When half the bloody fortress fell into the abyss along with the Inquisitor and her companions, Cullen had been elbows deep in demons, leading a company of men to the central yard of the fortress.

Word had reached him that the Grey Wardens were successful in tearing open the Veil in the hopes of summoning a nightmarish demon through. Followed quickly by the appearance of Corypheus' dragon, and having not heard from the Inquisitor yet, he decided that was all the information he needed on the current situation inside the fortress to take action. The battle in and around Adamant was beginning to die down, thanks to the correct assumption that many of the Wardens would surrender and his weeks of meticulous planning of the siege. All those nights pouring over old battle accounts and maps of the fortress paid off as he targeted the ancient wounds in the walls, exploiting their weaknesses. She fought like a battle-hardened Mabari, who was too stubborn to die, but in the end, modern siege equipment proved too strong against her brittle bones.

With their defenses down, it was up to his soldiers to do the rest. Holding an intact fortress, such as Adament was easy, but with the crumbling outer walls exposing them to multiple points of attack, the Inquisition forces quickly overwhelmed them. In one swift coordinated attack, his men pushed in backing the Wardens into the center of the fortress with nowhere to run. And at the center of it all was Evelyn facing down Clarel, Erimond, and the blighted dragon.

When one final charge was needed to get to the Inquisitor, he gathered together a contingent to lead himself. He was glad for it, for unlike the battle at Haven, he had been forced to stay back and coordinate the various elements of the siege this time. Itching to get a piece of the action, even though he hated fighting demons, he would never send men to do a job he wouldn't, and eagerly joined the fray. Progress was slower than he wished having to stop and hear reports from his officers, and by the time they finally reached the rift, a terrible earthquake stopped everyone in their tracks. Searching the courtyard, the Inquisitor and her companions were nowhere to be seen, but the flashes of magic now brightened the central tower. In his inspection of the ground, he saw deep hairline fractures in the stone that had been sealed by cooled magma. Two Pride demons lay slain in the yard, their innards spilled about making the place reek of spoiled meat. Other minor shades were strewn about flattened by various wounds, but the Warden mages were visably the worse off having lost the fight against their own blood magic.

"Inquisition, who is your commanding officer here?" One of the Grey Wardens who had been ordered to guard the rift by Stroud addressed them.

Standing tall and flipping up his visor, his soldiers parted for him to approach the man. "I am Commander Rutherford," the Warden straightened recognizing the name, exchanging gazes with the others, "which way did the Inquisitor go?"

Before he could answer, the menacing black wings of Corypheus' dragon flapped frantically caught in a huge electrical explosion. They couldn't see much from down in the courtyard beside the rift, but the chilling sound of stone cracking and falling was both felt and heard. Cullen looked to the ground below his feet to make sure the courtyard had not been compromised, but soon everything went eerily quiet.

Satisfied that they were in no danger, except for the large open rift, he began recalling from memory the schematics of the fortress and how to get up to where the dragon was when a familiar voice called down to him. "Commander!" Hanging over the crenellation was Henley, his deep voice carrying over the din, "Commander," he pointed towards the dragon, "the Inquisitor is down!"

"What do you mean?!"

"She fell, ser! The fucking dragon took everyone out!" His heart stopped, as did everything else around him as he tried to process what he had just been told. He absently ordered his lieutenant to hold this position in the courtyard with the Wardens as he headed up onto the ramparts. Only taking a few men with him, they wasted no time racing up past a number of tired and wounded Wardens.

By the time he reached the edge of the collapsed wall, he, Henley, and Owayne peered down into the darkness, afraid of what they'd see. "Maker," he panted having run the whole way up, but what he saw was nothing - no bodies, not even the blighted dragon. Her brother knelt just staring down into the darkness, having unceremoniously discarded his short blades to the side. Sheathing his sword and dropping his helmet in disbelief, he wiped a hand down his sweaty face. "Henley, report. Where is the Inquisitor?"

The man looked as if he was in partial shock, "From what I saw, Clarel ignited her mana in an attempt to save the others, but it caused the dragon to stumble breaking the ramparts where the Inquisitor and her companions were standing. We were over there," pointed back across to the ramparts behind them, "when the whole fucking thing collapsed, we couldn't get to them in time. When we did get here there was a rift, but it closed a minute later. We heard their voices shouting back and forth to each other, but when it closed it cut them off." Henley sighed wiping a slew of mixed blood from his cheek, "From what we heard, E opened a rift but they were still falling."

"She purposely opened a rift?" He tried to wrap his head around just what that could mean. "And they all fell into it?" The Knight-Captain nodded a bit unnerved. "So, that would mean they are in the Fade?" A cold terror suddenly seized him, "Maker's breath, they're in the Fade! They are physically in the Fade, not like Harrowing where it's just their consciousness!" His reaction startled Owayne who turned to watch him with a fear in his eyes he had never seen from the rogue.

Henley added, "And some aren't even mages. Isn't this E's second time in too?" His words hung between them as the two veteran Templars tried to understand the depth of danger the Inquisitor and her party were in having entered the Fade in such a way.

"Send for Sister Nightingale and Solas," Cullen commanded and Byron immediately summoned one of his men to fetch the two. "While I meet with them, I want one more sweep of the fortress done. I want every demon and maleificar dead. Then set up a perimeter around the large rift and stay with it. I want your assessment of its stability once I'm finished."

"Yes, Commander," Henley saluted and went to carry out his orders.

Turning back toward the damaged ramparts, he reigned in his emotions, trying to calmly reassure himself that they hadn't gathered enough information yet for him to wallow in despair at her disappearance - again. For now, the Inquisitor may have saved herself and her entire party with quick reckless thinking, though unintentionally placing them in far greater danger.

"Cullen," Owayne stood and walked to him as if the few feet he took were through heavy snow, "I'm no Templar, w-what you two were talking about, what does it mean?" The Commander's face turned sympathetic, "That's my sister, and… Cass. Maker, I can't lose them both." The pleading brown Trevelyan eyes looked darker as his skin paled.

Cullen gripped his shoulders, "I won't lie to you, it means they may indeed be alive, but in more danger than what any of us can comprehend. The Fade is a dark twisted place where demons lurk waiting to prey on the living. It's all around us, and the Breach and the many rifts have weakened the Veil making it easier for them to come through." Owayne's eyes looked distant as he stumbled a step backward as if she were going to faint, "I've already sent for Solas, if anyone can tell us more about their current situation it's him. But until we know more," his hands squeezed him harder, gently commanding his attention away from his troubled thoughts, "do not give up hope. They aren't alone, and the two of them are exceptionally skilled and intelligent." Seeing someone react the way he felt, gave Cullen the strength he needed to confront it and think rationally. He was in command now, despite Leliana's presence, this was a military operation that gave command over to him by default.

"Find me Knight-Captain Rylen, he should be somewhere by the western wall," he barked to a nearby soldier who ran off. There were suddenly a great many things that needed to be done threatening to overwhelm him. Already the hammering of a headache was beginning in his left temple and he could feel a slight tremble in his hands. It had been a long few days with little rest and heaping amounts of stress. One thing was certain, he was going to rely heavily on his two most trusted Knight-Captains as the dust from the battle settled and the search for the Inquisitor began.

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After the battlefield and prisoners were secured, the Commander called a meeting in the Command Tent hours later. The sun was rising, and though everyone was dead on their feet, time was of the essence to come up with a plan to retrieve their missing party. As the problem to discuss dealt with the Inquisitor, the inner circle was summoned along with Leliana, Rylen, Owayne, Henley, and Ilara. Of the companions, only Solas, Sorin, Vivienne, Bull, Sera, and Cole remained in camp. Filing in, word had spread like wildfire of the disappearance of the Inquisitor, which showed in the frowns and grim demeanor of all those present. One of his aides had made a fresh pot of coffee and scrounged up some biscuits for the impromptu gathering. Having met with the Spymaster and apostate elf, it was time to debrief the rest of the group and see if they could collectively come up with a solution.

Cullen looked around at them with a deep frown, for addressing them all was the Inquisitor's job, "The situation is dire…"

"You think?" Sera chimed in, "And arrows won't fix it? Rubbish. Stupid Inky, stupid magic." It sounded more defeatist than her usual level of sarcasm.

"When the fire goes out, how do we see? She was the fire, she lit the path ahead. Now lost in the dark without hope." Cole commented in his haunting and cryptic manner.

"Silence, demon," Madame Vivienne scolded coldly. "Really, Commander, why is it here?"

Before he could respond, Solas interjected, "Because the Commander understands what is at stake wishing to use every advantage at his disposal. Cole, as a spirit, has a unique connection to the Fade."

"Then he can aid the Inquisitor in getting out of the Fade and stay there, where it belongs," The two mages glared at each other.

"No, no, no, no, no, it's not home! It should be. It's not. This isn't me, not this part. I will be stuck there! No, no, no, no, no…" Cole continued to spiral as Solas tried to calm him, but instead, he vanished in thin air.

"Creepy. I hate when it talks at us," Sera spat and in a rare moment, she and Vivienne shared a nod of agreement. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache throb at their squabbling. Angered by their treatment of the supposed spirit, Solas opened his mouth, but the Commander halted any further arguments.

"Enough!" Lacking the diplomatic voice of the Inquisitor, he addressed the group as if an undisciplined gaggle of recruits, "If the Inquisitor trusts Cole, then that should be sufficient enough for all of us!" While he shared their concerns about the odd young man, Evelyn had passed her judgment on him allowing him to stay, and he would abide by her decision. He shook his head, endeavoring to bring his tone and volume back to a respectable level. "We are here to discuss possible solutions in bringing the Inquisitor and the others back. We cannot afford to dismiss any possibilities when the fate of all of Thedas relies on her mark." His words put everyone in a contemplative state, "Solas if you'd please share what you've found."

Nodding respectfully, the elf cleared his throat, "From what I was able to discover as I walked the Fade, was that the party is intact." Cullen's eyes caught Owayne sigh with visible relief. "However, I was unable to see them with my own eyes, for what I impart to you comes from what the spirits spoke of." At that, the Templars and other mages sighed with doubt. He didn't blame them for it, part of him felt the same, but for her, he'd be willing to quiet his uneasiness… for now. Solas continued, "Corypheus is the only one who knows how to enter the Fade physically, besides the Inquisitor. Since cooperating with him is assumingly out of the question--"

"Undoubtedly," Leliana said definitively.

"Then, perhaps someone in Tevinter could aid us. Perhaps Altus Pavus' father, since he too is trapped in the Fade?" Both he and the Spymaster exchanged looks, having already discussed it between the two of them in private immediately after his Fade walk. They deemed that it would take too long and no doubt be an extensive political process to elicit the aid of Magister Pavus. Yet, they watched and waited to hear from the others at his proposal.

"This is the Boss we're talking about. She isn't just going to play the damsel and wait for us to rescue her. If anything, she's already got a plan and will be back any minute. And let's not forget who she's with, I mean, she and Dorian already came back from the future in Redcliffe. The whole group is full of kick-ass people." Bull was right, of course, and most in the room seemed to nod in agreement.

"Hold up, if Inky's mark opened a veil-hole, what's to say she can't do it again and just pop back?" Everyone was silent for a moment thinking over Sera's rather obvious theory. "Wot? Did I get it? All you big hats and it's me who figures it out."

"If it was as simple as that, don't you think the Inquisitor would've done so by now?" Solas offered, to which the city elf stuck her tongue out at him, punching a hole in her idea. "In fact, I would hope Dorian and Cassandra would caution her against using the anchor in the Fade for fear of how it would affect its spread. Perhaps, she can't use it in there because it's meant to be used on this side of the Veil."

"So, I'm not an expert on, well, anything we're talking about," Owayne began, "but, if they entered through a rift, what's to say we can't go into the Fade through that big arse one in the fortress and save them?"

"Darling, no one should go into the Fade physically. Of that, I believe Solas and I can agree, and we can count the number of things on which we agree on one hand," Vivienne elegantly put. "We have no idea what would happen if someone tried to cross through it."

Solas added, "Quite right, the transition across the Veil could tear you apart. The rift was opened using blood magic, not the mark. There are too many unknowns to safely surmise the potential risks and consequences."

"If Dalish can be of help to you, just ask," the elven apostate looked at him curiously, and the Qunari cleared his throat, "You know… she's Dalish and, um… archers know things…" Cullen shook his head at the continued pretense.

"Thank you, but the Knight-Enchanter Cyrus has volunteered to help already." Looking over to the mage, Cullen found him staring off looking slightly unnerved. His dark swirling locks fell about his face as if trying to hide his rare show of emotions. When Henley elbowed him, Sorin stirred and nodded to Solas in recognition. "My recommendation is that we wait. As The Iron Bull said, they are resourceful. We can try and learn what we can, but I fear there is little we can do from this side of the Veil."

"As it stands, in the center of Adamant is a large rift which is periodically spawning demons. When word of its survival reaches the Elder One, he will come for it. If he still wants his demon army, there is the means by which he can obtain it. We are guarding his next target, and make no mistake, he will send the army we saw at Haven against us." Cullen's mind flashed back to the battle months ago against the Venatori and Red Templars. The Siege of Adamant suddenly felt like child's play compared to fighting that army. "The Inquisition's army must remain here until we discover a means of closing the rift, whether that means bringing the Inquisitor back or discovering other alternatives." The intensity of his gaze on each of them conveyed just how dire the situation was. After a long pause, the palpable tension was becoming unbearable, and he sighed turning to Leliana, "I will summon Master Gatsi and his crew here with all haste. Adamant must be repaired if we are to defend this position. At this time, I see no other alternative." At having worked so hard to break the old fortress, he cursed himself for being so proficient at destroying it.

"Understood. I will take over the search for retrieving the Inquisitor and researching other solutions," a fixed frown had set upon the redhead's lips. At that moment, they shared the weight of the great burden now placed upon them.

The thankful disruption of a raven from Skyhold was excuse enough to dismiss them all as the two advisors went to read the Ambassador's letter. Having lingered giving him a knowing look, once everyone had filed out, Ilara relieved the horrid pain of his headache to a dull annoyance. Without Dorian, he was thankful for her assistance and discretion, relaying the sentiment before she left. While he was treated, Leliana had read the letter's contents and handed it over to him with a frown. Cullen had assigned one of the administrative aids to send regular updates back to Josephine throughout the battle, but they had yet to hear from her until now.

Dear Commander Rutherford,

I appreciated the regular updates, as did all of Skyhold who were eager to know how their comrades faired in battle. I have announced the outcome to the major powers, but have said nothing of the fate of the Grey Wardens. As you can imagine, King Alistair and Queen Elissa are pressing us for details, threatening to send emissaries to Skyhold to demand answers from the Inquisitor. Additionally, I have left out the fact that the Inquisitor remains missing, for even as the news would be shared with allies if the information fell into the wrong hands its repercussions could be severe.

I do believe we should craft a simple statement about the Wardens to pacify the Fereldens until the Inquisitor, Maker willing, is returned to us to pass her official judgment on them. As to what information you believe we should share, I leave it to you.

Maker watch over you all,

Ambassador Josephine Montilyet of the Inquisition

"Josie's right, we need to make a statement," Leliana grazed her fingers across her lips and chin in thought.

He couldn't help but absently mimic her, listening to his soft leather gloves scrape against his scruff, "Then let us only relay the good news, that we saved as many Wardens as possible from the Elder One's corruption and ended Lord Erimond's scheme."

"Yes," she pointed a finger, "let the powers that be focus on Erimond and his treachery, rather than everything else. Their outrage will buy us time."

"Agreed. I will--"

"No, Cullen," she gave him a chastising sisterly look, "you need rest. I've seen how hard you've been pushing yourself, not to mention not having stopped since the battle ended. Go. This mess will still be here when you awaken, or would you rather I go fetch Enchanter Ilara back here?"

He sighed in defeat, placing his hands up, "No, I'll go. I should recruit that woman to be one of my officers with the way she commands everyone about. Clearly, all her experience came from dealing with Evelyn…" Both shared a pained look and without another word, he trudged off towards his tent to try and get some sleep.

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Standing in the empty halls of Kinloch Tower, Cullen's breathing quickened hearing voices in a nearby room. The moonlight cast his path in an eerie blue light as he walked cautiously to the door concealing the source of the sounds. The halls were surprisingly peaceful, yet his gut was in a knot. Pausing before it, his breathing picked up as he recognized the sounds of intense lovemaking. Faint rhythmic thuds coupled with the woman's wanton moans made him hesitate before opening the door, yet he was compelled to catch the rulebreakers in the act. The weight of his Templar armor hung heavy upon him, as he shifted in it uncomfortably thinking about his duty.

The wooden door creaked as he slowly opened it feeling an odd sensation of dread as to who it was he was about to interrupt. Undisturbed by his presence, having opened it the rest of the way to fill the threshold, the man rose to his knees above the woman sprawled on the bed. He had a messy full head of short and straight raven hair and a warrior's physique. With each thrust, his back and glute muscles flexed with effort. Cullen couldn't see the woman's face, which remained obscured from the angle from which he approached them, but he saw tuffs of blonde hair spilling out from beneath her.

The Templar's armor clanked and he began to call for them to stop, but his commands went ignored. Picking up his pace toward them, now angered at the blatant disregard for his orders, he stopped dead when he noticed a large curved scar that cut up the woman's thigh to the side of her hip bone. Her legs wrapped around the man as she tugged him closer to her yelling desperately, 'Harder!'

"Evelyn?" He felt the blood drain from his face, for he knew that singular voice.

The man bent down stealing a passionate kiss from her eliciting another moan. "Mmm, Phoenix," he growled out. Pulling her head up slightly as they parted, the blonde hair he saw was just the ends of her two-toned mutation.

Cullen stood frozen as he watched the two rutted into each other, seemingly unable to stop them. His mind spun as to why she'd place this man before him in her affections, but then remembered they had fought or something… His mind felt hazy and disoriented. Despite knowing they might have separated, his anger rose to bring a hot flush to his face at her betrayal. Allowing his feral rage to take hold, he grabbed the man's shoulder trying to turn to see who it was but was batted away with inhuman strength, until finally he turned to look at his assailant.

"Hawke?!" Cullen's breath caught in his throat at the shock.

"That's right, Knight-Commander. We mages take care of our own, and she will not be tainted by your hate! You don't deserve her for your past sins, I would know." His words were seething, coming out of his mouth like a hiss. "Did you really believe a sensual woman such as she would not seek comfort in another after you spurned her, and over what? Hurting your delicate feelings? Did you think you were the only one who could pleasure her, oh but you didn't, did you?" Hawke gazed down at her as she arched into his embrace, "I'm sure you'll get over it, she's not really a person in your eyes anyway. You haven't changed. Stay or go, it matters not, for she's mine now."

Backhanding Cullen to the ground, he looked up towards the bed as Evelyn finally was aware of his presence. Before she could say anything, Hawke grabbed her by the throat, making her eyes widen in horror. Her limbs began to kick and fight her attacker, but for the life of him, he couldn't move to help her. Cullen's limbs grew so heavy that he could no longer lift them, "No! Evelyn!" He tried to silence the Champion, but it was as if he had forgotten how. Looking down at himself, his Templar armor disappeared and he remembered he was no longer part of the Order. His veins were devoid of the strength lyrium had granted. Helpless, he could do nothing but watch as the woman he loved was at the mercy of a deranged Hawke.

Jerking with unnatural movements, Hawke began to transform into a Desire demon. Horns curled about its head as the skin turned a shade of sickly purple. Its sultry voice held the mage up so her back was now off the bed, but Evelyn was still struggling to breathe. "How selfish of you to keep her from me. Just look at her," Desire's claws traced the contours of the naked woman's body leaving trails of blood in its wake. It purred before laying her back down on the bed rustling its chiming chains.

As the demon continued its invasive exploration of Evelyn's body, Cullen fought as hard as he could to free himself of whatever force held him in place. "Do not touch her, demon!"

"You mean like this?" Desire's claws opened the mage's recent injury on her chest, causing her to scream in agony. "Or this?" The creature drilled her nails into Evelyn's scared shoulder, resulting in wild thrashing. "None of that pet," it spat back at her as its limbs and tail held her down. The mage deliriously cried his name in a way that tortured his soul more than Desire ever could.

As before, there was nothing he could do but whimper prayers. He tried to close his eyes but the demon's power was strong, pulling him over to the bed beside them. His limbs were locked at his sides as he and Evelyn's eyes held his unable to look away.

"I sense that you've stolen her heart. Shall we take a look and see?" Desire suddenly split her ribcage open peeling back the skin to watch her heart still beating in her body. Stabbing a hand into her chest, the demon watched his face with great pleasure as it squeezed the organ like it was a soft rotten fruit, raising it to its mouth to drink the juices. The mage's eyes stared back at him lifeless and dull. Her face relaxed, no longer feeling pain as her limbs fell from Desire with a thud.

That's when he noticed it. Evelyn had no mark on her left hand. Trying to fight through the grief and rage with his rational mind, he attempted to reason his way out of this nightmare. "That's not her," he chanted like a mantra, "it's not Evelyn. It's not Evelyn." His defiant glare, though wet with tears, bore into the purple creature, "She would never succumb to the likes of you! She'd see through you as she's too strong!"

With a growl, it jumped him now with its bloody claws and mouth. Asserting more power over the dream, he found Desire's behavior odd, for they were never this aggressive physically always relying on their tricks and manipulation over violence. It was then his dream flickered, wavering the more he applied reason as he fended the vile demon off of him.

"Your name, demon! I will have it, for you are not Desire! I know its tricks far too well and you are not it," he roared back at it before everything disappeared and he was left in a black void. Hopping to his feet, his amber eyes looked about the darkness for his foe, but all was quiet save for his heavy breathing. His hands shook trying to calm himself, rubbing his hands about his sweaty face.

Suddenly, Evelyn appeared again in a panic and ran at him. She grabbed him, partially pulling him down as she pleaded, "Please, you need to help me!"

"What's wrong?!" He had never seen her so desperate.

An odd surge of guttural sounds rolled up through her, "You need to kill me, now! I'm an abomination!" Letting go of him she thrust a vial of lyrium into his hand, "Take it, and destroy me before I hurt them!"

His eyes widened in horror as his hands trembled at the feel of the poison in his hand. The natural vibrations of the mineral sent goosebumps up his arms as his breath hitched remembering its taste. Blinking a few times in need of a distraction, he asked, "Who do you think you're going to hurt?"

Her shaking hand painfully pointed to a charming farmhouse that had appeared. Suddenly, the landscape around them revealed that they were at his family's home in South Reach. Evelyn cried out in pain as her body slowly began to burn up. Her irises were orange and her veins were glowing, "Please, it's too much! Kill me now before I hurt them!" The door to the house opened and everyone stepped out to greet the two of them with innocent smiles. He began to yell over to them to stay back, but they didn't listen. Trying to hold herself back, Evelyn growled and lunged at them from her knees as her skin began to glow red. "Take the lyrium, Cullen! I will kill them and I'm too powerful for you without it!" Her voice fluctuated between that of hers and the demon breaking her.

"No! You know I can't! Don't ask me to do this!"

"You'd let me kill them all to save your pride?" He couldn't answer her, just swallowing hard, looking from his family to the vial. Her words became venomous, "I knew you were too weak to keep your post. The Seeker should have had you removed long ago. Only a madman would refuse to take it to protect those he loves."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"I can still protect them without it!"

She laughed at him through her growls, "You may need this then." Tossing something through the air at him, he caught it in his hands. It was incredibly hot, burning his palms several times before it dropped to the ground. His lucky coin. As he bent to pick it back up, she had begun her attack.

"No!" He roared as tears streamed down his face as he was once again frozen and powerless to do anything but watch the slaughter. It was his fault. Every life decision he made had resulted in this, and now he was doomed to live through his just reward. For forsaking lyrium. For allowing a mage into his life. For thinking he was fit to be Commander of the Inquisition. He felt the hot blood splatter across his face and neck as he turned numb.

When the carnage had ended, he looked up as Evelyn finally came for him. Covered in the blood of his kin she panted as her eyes roved about him wildly, trying to figure out where to begin. Before she could, however, he plunged a blade into her gut. An otherwordly shriek echoed about the farm as she fell onto her back clutching at the blade. Cullen looked down unable to watch being so emotionally spent. Wriggling and straining in pain, the wails finally subsided into human whimpers.

When her soft pleas reached him, he looked up once more seeing that they were back at Skyhold in her quarters. The olive-green velveteen dress that she always wore had a dark stain growing on it from where he ran her through with his sword. Confused again, as everything seemed normal, she held her hand out begging him to come to her, "It's alright, I know it wasn’t your fault. Do not blame yourself." Evelyn's voice was labored as she gasped for air, "You hallucinated… thought I was a demon. But it's alright… I…" Her eyes fluttered shut as her head hit the stone with a thud. She was dead.

Overwhelming panic and grief tore through him, whispering to himself over and over again, "What have I done?" He had gone mad; It finally happened after almost a year without lyrium. He looked about the room again for signs that he was dreaming, but nothing was out of place.

Faintly, he heard the running of soldiers' boots coming from the stairs. "Commander, what have you done?!" It was Rylen, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him in his shame, "You've doomed us all. Arrest him!" Hands grabbed his upper arms dragging him away from her lifeless body. He struggled, but he didn't have much fight left in him.

"Maker's mercy, I thought she was a demon," his voice was meek, so unlike himself.

"After all this time, you still don't see mages as nothin' other than monsters," Rylen spat at him in disgust. "She was our only hope to stop the Elder One. The Seeker should've relieved ye of duty a long time ago. This is all because of yer selfishness; because ye refuse to take lyrium."

"No, I've had it under control!"

"How dare ye say that with her blood on yer hands! Take him out of my sight." As they dragged him around the corner, his last slight was that of the glowing mark on her hand fading to black.

"Cullen! Wake up, ye bloody bastard, and stop hittin' me!" Rylen's hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinct took over and the Commander grabbed his friend in turn, still not fully out of the Fade. Tears threatened his eyes as he focused on the Templar's raspy voice as he tried to reach him over the last remnants of his nightmare. "Andraste's mercy, it was just a dream! The whole bloody camp is bein' plagued with nightmares!" Calming down slowing as he took stock of his words and surroundings, while a trickle of cold sweat caught the light desert breeze as it snuck through the tent flaps. Rylen's steely eyes softened as he saw the visible signs of relief wash over Cullen, and he released him, flopping down to sit on his cot across from him.

Laying back down and running a hand through his blonde hair, he tried to slow his breaths, "Sweet Maker!" His mind raced through a recap of the horrid dream, shuddering a few times at its memory. Turning to peer at Rylen, he noticed the grimace that was set on his face. "You said the whole camp is suffering from nightmares? Mine, as you know, is caused by lyrium withdrawal, what could make the whole army…" His voice trailed off as the answer stood out clear in his mind, "A demon?"

"Aye, the elven apostate confirmed as much. Says there's one just on the other side of the bloody rift. With the Veil so thin, it's feastin' off the soldiers' fear as they sleep."

Sitting up again, the Commander racked his brain for any memory of a similar situation from his Templar days. However, the appearance of rifts is a new problem and his memory failed him. "Has Solas given us any guidance on to how protect ourselves?"

"He and Sorin have been placin' powerful wards around the camp in a hope to create a barrier against its attacks, but the demon is so large and powerful it may still be able to affect the most vulnerable of us," he paused, "such as yerself."

After assuring his tentmate that he was alright, he skipped having food to delve back into his newest challenge of securing the rift from Corypheus. Heading into the Command Tent, Cullen began pouring over the observations of the rift from Leliana's scouts, his soldiers on duty guarding it, and the mages who volunteered to study it. It was at this time he was sincerely missing Dagna and thought about sending for her, as they had no idea how long they'd be here. The quirky dwarf always seemed to conjure a plan out of nowhere, giving them all hope on each impossible problem she set to tackle. The reports indicated that the rift was vastly unstable which the mages theorized was due to the amount of demons crossing the Veil in one place. Those observing also all reported seeing something resembling a giant spider lingering just on the other side, but the distortion of the rift made it impossible to truly tell what they saw if anything at all.

For the remainder of the afternoon into the evening, the Commander remained in the Command Tent writing countless requests for building materials, laborers, and supplies to continue their extended stay in the Western Approach. Not only that, but he had guard rotations to establish, troops to reinforce, and reports of their dead and wounded to get through. Now and again, flashes of his nightmare invaded his thoughts making him sweat. Only wearing a linen maroon shirt, he rolled up his sleeves past the elbows and loosened the ties at his neck so his skin could breathe in an attempt to gain some comfort. He ignored the nagging thought that it could be the withdrawal symptoms charging up for another assault on him like what happened at Caer Bronch. Forgoing solitude, he had the tent's sides rolled up to collect as much of the weak breeze as he could. It was only when the sun began to set that some relief was to be had. He was Ferelden after all, and this arid climate did not make life any easier for him. He avoided drinking anything hot, including his coffee, asking his valet to leave it even after it had sat out for hours cooling to an acceptable temperature.

Taking a break while staring out at Adamant Fortress, Cullen couldn't help but feel the weight of recent events upon his shoulders. He had just claimed a great victory for the Inquisition, leaving the historic fort in ruins; Adamant was no more. As a military veteran, such nostalgic feelings of remorse over such a place as this should not have bothered him, yet it did. Brooding over it, he perhaps thought because, like him, it had once stood for something before being defiled by demons.

"Commander," Owayne was the only man in the camp who could get away with using the title teasingly, though his humor was subdued. “I was feeling especially serious tonight and thought you’d be the best man to brood with.”

Cullen didn't turn to look at him, he simply rubbed his hand over his face, "Thinking is exactly what I’m trying to avoid at the moment." The ache of his sore muscles and head made him stretch and groan at his discomfort. On his left arm were the usual bruises he sustained in combat, but the arm fared better this time having not fractured it again. He arched his spine massaging his lower back, as his companion crossed his arms peering out over the camp.

A rare moment of quiet with the Trevelyan stretched on until a small group of women scouts passed in front of them, eyeing them flirtatiously. Their smiles and whispers made him exhale heavily looking out beyond them. Owayne chuckled, "Hey, take it as a compliment if anything. If younger women are still fawning over us at our age, it's quite an accomplishment."

With a small snort of a laugh and sigh, Cullen couldn't help his sinking mood despite Owayne’s efforts, "I’m the same age as your sister, you know, and not quite as old as you. But one woman is proving to be trouble enough for me, let alone if I had a whole gaggle of them."

Lord Trevelyan chuckled heartily, "Cullen, you’re with my sister. If trouble is what you were trying to avoid, boy did you fuck that up.” After his laugh had faded, his mirth disappeared and was replaced by sadness. “Even growing up Evie attracted trouble. It’s part of the reason why mother and she fought so often. Yet, whatever mess she found herself in, she had always the best intentions. But that wasn’t what my mother wanted from her. She wanted an obedient pawn for her game of marriage and politics, not a girl who was running about like a Red Jenny do-gooder. My two older sisters were made of the best clay to form into miniatures of my mother, whereas Evie was tough and resistant to the mold. A few months before she came into her magic, I overheard our parents talking about sending her for Templar training. It’s funny how the Maker works sometimes.”

Cullen’s eyes drifted downwards from the sky to rest on the swirling sand. It seemed whatever path that was laid for Evelyn was to be treacherous, either having to be chained by lyrium to the Order or trapped in a Circle with someone like Ryker Aeron. Now, she was the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor with a mark that could be killing her. It would seem the Maker had a life of pain planned for her no matter what turns of fate found her. He remembered the look on her face after using the mark to break down the gates of Adamant. There was a tiredness to them, the same kind he knew well. By all rights, had the two of them just been average people living in Thedas, they would most likely be settled down with a family by now, not gallivanting about doing damage control from a darkspawn magister. He could be living with his family tending the farm leaving others to sort out the mess from the Conclave. The biggest headache he’d have would be the wellbeing of the crops and what price they’d fetch at the market. The thought was humorous to him, for he felt in his very being that he was meant to serve a higher purpose. It’s what guided him into the Templar Order and then to the Divine’s service. He was the one the people of Thedas left their fate to; one who could change the course of history along with those in the Inquisition.

Owayne carefully appraised him, watching his reaction deteriorating more, but he was unaware of the tangent his mind went on. "I'm sorry, Cullen, we don't have to talk about her. It’s just…"

With a deep breath, he exhaled, "It’s alright. She was on my mind anyway, as are they all.” He didn’t want to be insensitive, knowing he was worried specifically for Cassandra as well.

"We never got to talk again after the whole ‘Lord Armand’ incident, how are you holding up?”

“She and I haven’t talked about it yet, and quite honestly, I’m not sure how I should feel about it anymore.”

“What’s got you hung up?” Cullen turned to face Owayne, meeting him with a baffled stare. “Oh, come now, she told me everything while she was bedridden back at Skyhold.”

As he thought about the exact reasoning, he realized the list of things he was angry about would probably sound stupid to someone like the brunette rogue before him. Despite what Evelyn had told him, he knew she would not divulge the entirety of his dark past to him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” Owayne’s face grew stern and serious for once, “I’m the spare heir, my pride and feelings have been long tempered to accept rejection and disappointment. The day my eldest nephew was born, was the greatest day of my life, for it granted me my freedom from the family business and politics. Now, I’m the crazy uncle with questionable morals. So tell me, what has your pride so wounded that you’d rather hold a grudge?”

The ex-Templar rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that aside from all his deep seeded issues that had been amplified through his withdrawal symptoms during Aeron’s residency at Skyhold, there was one crippling problem that ate at him. He set his jaw, looking at Evelyn’s almost-twin, “Your sister expressed her concern that I could not support her later on in life. That with ‘Lord Armand’ she would be properly cared for financially.”

“Seriously?” Owayne pinched the bridge of his nose, “That is what’s so upsetting? Cullen, I had no idea you were so sensitive!”

“I told you wouldn’t understand,” he scowled at her brother. “I may hold a prestigious title now, but without the Inquisition, I am a commoner. The son of a farmer and miller. Your sister is not only high-born, but the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor. What makes me worthy of such a woman? What would your father say of it? To have his beloved daughter living on a farm in Ferelden, toiling away to earn a meager living.”

Lord Trevelyan gave him a lame look, “Should I hit you now or let Evie when you tell her that load of horseshit? Did you just hear yourself? My sister, care about money and social standing? Your fucking daft!”

“Did she tell you I stopped taking lyrium?” He nodded unimpressed, as his usual level of sarcasm made a comeback. “Then what of security? I’m not a Templar any longer, I can’t help her if she’d need it without lyrium.”

Owayne threw a hand at him in disbelief, “I’ve heard you tell her to cool it when her magic was burning too hot! Just because you couldn’t help her yourself, doesn’t mean you couldn’t do anything to help. Besides, even if you took as much lyrium as you used to, not even Cass can silence her alone. It makes little difference now if she’s with one Templar, let alone five and a Seeker to boot.” They stared at each other hard, “Do you have any other stupid fucking things you’d like to get out before you talk to her? I know you know her better than any man, so I’m starting to believe you just want to sabotage things to end it all. Is that what you want?”

“No!”

“Then stop being so bloody stubborn! Andraste’s tits, Cullen, you two deserve each other! It’s a wonder you two even got together in the first place being so…” He paused his tirade to let out a long frustrating groan. “She better be alive—they better all be alive and on their way back.” As their conversation cooled back down at his words, both looked towards the glowing green light coming from within the ruined fortress. “If I learned one lesson from all this since I first joined you all in Haven, it’s that life changes in a blink of an eye and is way too short to not try and be happy. I won’t be making that mistake any longer, will you?” The two shared a pained, yet consoling look, before Owayne gave a firm pat to his shoulder leaving him to brood alone once more. “Maker, I pray they return…”

Staring back out across the desert sands, Cullen couldn't help the ache gripping his heart. Life was short, and being made shorter for him by the effects of lyrium and the threat of Corypheus. How did he want to spend the time left the Maker was giving him? Holding a grudge against Evelyn? Who knew how much time she had as well? The thought made his heart quicken in panic that she could be lost to him. If his lucky coin brought her back to him, things were going to change.

----------------------------------------

It had been three days since they disappeared into the Fade. Cullen tore himself away from the work waiting for him in the Command Tent to check on the rift. He hadn't gone back to it since the end of the battle, and a strange feeling was nagging at him to go to it. Having felt like he hadn't slept since before they broke through the gates of Adamant due to the traumatizing nightmare that embedded itself at the forefront of his mind, he slowly felt he was losing a grip on the situation. When his mind had gone blank trying to respond to a missive, he knew he needed a break and gave in to whatever was compelling him to the rift.

Walking briskly helped to dry the lather he somehow worked up simply standing over his work all day. The dry gritty breeze was refreshing, and he wondered at why he hadn't done this sooner, but there had just been so much to do. Now and then his eyes would drift skyward in search of the dark silhouette of the dragon coming to finish the job, but thankfully all he saw were that of their ravens. Around him, the camp was bustling as the soldiers were put to work gathering supplies to repair the fortress, as well as building temporary fortifications. The wounded were still healing and the dead had been burned. The Wardens were still being held as prisoners, helping Leliana's agents piece together the events leading up to Erimond's takeover.

Arriving in the central courtyard, the sickly green hole in the veil reflected light and images like a warped mirror. Several Templars and archers stood at the ready waiting for any demons, while a few mages, including Solas and Sorin, conversed in safety behind them. Strange sounds were emanating from the rift, causing them all to shift uncomfortably. Pausing trying to listen to what they could be hearing, he swore it sounded like voices raised in alarm and fighting.

Pulling his sword, he commanded, "Stand at the ready!" Immediately, the soldiers obeyed leveling their weapons at the center of the yard. The mages walked swiftly over to him, but he never took his eyes off the rift, "How long have these sounds persisted?"

"An hour or two, but nothing has appeared," Solas reported. "We think it may just be another attempt of the large demon to call others to the rift."

A wave of rage washed over him, “I should’ve been notified the moment they started!” The apostate began protesting that they had been hearing various forms of it, but Cullen didn’t want his excuses. "I want reinforcements brought here immediately! You there, go find Knight-Captain Henley and tell him to send a small detachment with as many Templars as he can spare," he barked at one of the archers who ran off. The mages fell in beside him grabbing their staffs off their backs.

"Do the sounds seem to be getting louder to the rest of you?" Sorin asked, and as Cullen listened, they certainly were. Gradually, the muffled sounds turned into voices and the thuds sounded like offensive spells hitting their mark.

"Something is coming through," there was a slight tinge of fear in Solas' tone as he strengthened the wards around the rift. "Sorin, if it is indeed the demon, I'll need your help." After his words, Cullen ordered the Templars to ready their divine powers against whatever was coming through, and for the next few minutes, everyone held their breath waiting. The creak of bowstrings and the gentle chime of metal was all that his mind allowed him to register as his eyes awaited confirmation of the noises coming from within the Fade.

Suddenly, the rift brightened and a man's yell was heard as he was thrown through the tear. Landing and skidding to a halt, Varric, followed quickly by Stroud, clawed up on their feet, "Shit! Don't shoot, it's us!"

Cullen rushed forward, "Where are the others?"

"They are coming, at least U hope they’re coming," the dwarf supplied, "there's a big ass demon on the other side!"

"We know," he kept his eyes trained on the portal before him anxiously.

"No, you don't, Curly!" His voice was hoarse and strained breaking his gaze away to look at the man. Varric's expression held one he'd seen in soldiers who had seen too much. Having already seen more than his fair share of unbelievable and frightening things, the dwarf’s reaction spoke volumes of the demon just across the Veil. The fear in his eyes made him shiver, "The demon calls itself Nightmare, and it is certainly that."

"Fasta Vass!" Dorian flew out next and straight into Cullen. The mage was coated in demon bile and the stench accosted his senses. The Commander steadied him, "Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Many thanks for the assistance, for the real nightmare would’ve been breaking this flawless face on the stone." Dorian groaned holding a hand around his ribs.

As he bent over his arm, Cullen saw the back of his robes and armor had been viciously slashed open, "He's wounded! Tend to him," he looked to the healers who were taking shelter. They quickly ran over and guided him to a safe distance. He eyed Varric and Stroud seeing they too bore many signs of battle from within the Fade, "Go with them, we'll get others!"

As they left, Sorin and Solas once again flanked the Commander in front of the rift. A massive beastly roar echoed out from it accompanied by more human-like sounds. Poking out through the illuminated green tear, two tarnished sets of armor slowly passed through it. The warriors' backsides were the first part he saw, watching them both pulling something with them. As Cullen went to help, Solas held him back explaining to him that their bodies were transitioning between the Fade and Waking World and to touch them could cause unknown harm. Barely able to restrain himself, they watched as they paused as if waiting for something, before frantically hulling their limp charges through the rift with them.

The bodies of Blackwall and Cassandra were littered with magical burn marks, no doubt from being beaten by demons for the past few days. Dirt and grime were smudged across their faces just like the other three who previously crossed the Veil. Extremely exhausted, the two panted and gasped for air along with the two mages sprawled on the ground. With a jolt of green magic, the Inquisitor perked up for a minute as the anchor was drawn to the rift. She cried out as she tried to lift herself up to seal it, but she struggled against her own fatigue. Able to assist her now, Cullen got behind to support her body. Evelyn rested her back on him and he steadied her arm as the mark exploded with energy. The vibrations of such power made its way up his arm, and he fought the urge to push her arm away.

The Inquisitor whimpered as her body was weakening, pushing against him for strength. "I can't…" She faintly cried, but before he could respond, Sorin shoved Cullen away to hold her.

"I've got you E! Take what you need just as you did at the Breach!" With another nudge and pointed look, the Commander let go but didn't retreat away from them. With a gasp, Evelyn drew from his mana and sealed the rift before both collapsed on the sandy stone. A loud thunderous clap resounded through the fortress as it shut and everyone around the rift relaxed.

Peering over at the Knight-Enchanters, Evelyn had her forehead to Sorin’s. The two conversed too quietly for him to hear, and despite his inclination to now shove Sorin away, he looked towards the others. Hawke was lying down trying to catch his breath, as lyrium was brought over to him. Blackwall took a knee, spitting some blood onto the ground while cursing the demon and Cassandra sat reclining her head back with her eyes closed and pointed to the sky. Solas was checking on them but they seemed to just want space to breathe and decompress.

"Commander," his head spun back to meet the soft voice which called to him. She was parting from Sorin, but he was able to get a better look at her condition as she dropped her helmet to the ground. The golden sheen of her Phoenix armor looked like it aged a century just after one usage, having served its purpose. The only blood he saw of hers looked to be on her legs from minor lacerations, the rest was black demon blood. There were a few scrapes on her chin and cheek, but he was relieved to see that she was whole and intact for once.

"Inquisitor, it is good to have you back. Are you in need of a healer?" Even though they conversed politely, there was a deep look in their gaze. It was the kind that blocked out all else as if they were alone. From behind her Sorin sat up, and he saw him roll his eyes and shake his head at them.

"No, poor Dorian had his hands full with this crew." She seemed to appraise his health as well, which was only made easier without his armor. "How did we fare after the battle?"

He blinked a few times with a snort, "There is time enough for that after you rest and clean up. Leliana and I have the situation in hand for a few more hours, I assure you. Though with the rift sealed, we can all breathe easier now." He stood from his crouched position, helping both she and Sorin up, though he hooked his arm with hers to help her walk.

There was a slight tremble in the hands that gripped onto his forearm. "Food and water are what we need. It's been days…" Cullen quickly sent another soldier to fetch more food and water for the group, as everyone around them offered up their canteens and anything they had lying around. It wasn't much but at least the group received some much-needed hydration.

"We should get you all back to camp if you're able?"

"I believe we can. None of us are that wounded, we are just tired and need food." Evelyn was swaying as if she were at sea and she was fighting to keep her eyes open. That was enough for him to unstrap her dagger-like pauldrons, leaving them with her sharp feathery helmet, before bending to scoop her up. Her arms went reflexively around his neck and her head fell to his shoulder. The Inquisitor sighed heavily as if the weight of the world had lifted from her for a moment in the safety of his embrace. Just as he was about to ask for volunteers with strong backs to help with the others Henley and Owayne came bounding around the corner with the reinforcements he had asked for.

Seeing his sister, Owayne quickly cupped her face pressing a kiss to her forehead. Seeing she was in good hands, he all but tackled the Seeker, who groaned grumpily too exhausted to do anything but submit to his fussing. With the help of the soldiers, they carried the starved group back to the tents where the quartermaster had prepared a table of food for them. They drank and ate a bit, letting their first food in three days settle in their empty stomachs before heading off to change out of their soiled armor and clothing. With the whole inner circle on hand now, Ilara took Evelyn and Cassandra in to their tent help them dress and heal any more wounds that had gone forgotten.

While he waited, he attended to some matters in the Command Tent but kept a trained eye on her tent. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew now was not the time. Yet, all he wanted to do since speaking with Owayne last night was to be with her. His own ailments had been pushed aside as all his focus was on her return, and she was a mere few yards away in her tent. Cassandra was the first to emerge from their tent, returning to the refreshments wearing a simple blouse and pants. Ilara followed shortly after, but another few minutes passed and Evelyn had still not come out. As the others were occupied over at the food, he quickly made his way over to her tent.

He didn't bother to announce his entrance, wanting to get in before the others saw. His sudden appearance startled the half-naked woman inside who quickly grabbed at a garment on the ground to partially cover her exposed upper body at the unexpected visitor. Turning angrily to see who her intruder was, she let out a long sigh seeing him, still holding the fabric up over her breasts with an arm.

"Fucking balls Cullen, you scared the shit out of me!" It dawned on him that after the horrors she must've lived through the last few days, startling her was not the smartest thing to do. There was dark discoloration about her pale form from no doubt taking a beating during the battle and then within the Fade. A dirty rag hung from the side of the wash basin stained black and red. She looked about the tent awkwardly waiting for him to explain himself, growing increasingly impatient in proper Evelyn fashion by the second. With a huff, she threw the shirt on the floor since she was still wearing a breast band, placing her hand on her hips becoming unsure of how she wanted to react.

With slow steps, she watched with wide eyes as he came to stand directly before her. He pulled a glove off and his calloused hand reached out to touch her beautiful face, careful to avoid the scrapes. She didn't make any attempt to stop it, and he gently held her chin with his thumb and finger. At contact, her eyes fluttered shut briefly as her hand came up to cover his own. Nuzzling into his hand, he could see her breaths were relaxed and deep while her glassy eyes still looked at him to say something.

"I thought I had lost you." It was quiet, but finally, he was able to articulate, albeit hoarsely, his appearance.

"So did I for a bit, but you know I always come back. I'm stubborn like that." They stared at each other for a long moment before he pushed his hand back through her hair, holding the back of her head. "Cullen, I'm sorry--"

"Shh, I don't want to talk about it now." With care, he brought her to him closing the distance between their bodies, as she welcomed the advance bringing her arms up around his neck. Despite the warm desert air, he felt goosebumps prickle up her arms at his touch. Their noses and foreheads grazed each other gently as he watched her eyelids become heavy. The pressure pulling him down towards her gave him all the permission he needed to let go of his tight restraint.

The sorely missed taste of her lips brought back a swelling of warmth to his heart. For months, he felt as if he had been frozen, numb to everything, but with one kiss she thawed his emotions breathing life back into him. Soon, the slow cautious kisses devolved into deeper hungrier ones. One of his hands dropped to the small of her naked back as she pulled him as close as possible by grabbing the sides of his airy shirt. She was slightly on her toes stretched up against him, melting into him. Taking a step back, he sat when his knees hit her cot. Without parting, she smoothly climbed atop his lap tucking her legs up on either side of his. Cullen could feel a smile spreading on her lips and wet tears on her cheeks, but he refused to surrender her lips back to her.

Despite his attempt, Evelyn pulled back taking his hand from her. His eyes watched transfixed as she brought it up her torso, and under her breast band. Releasing his hand, it naturally glided across her left breast and she watched him closely waiting for something…

"Is that…?" Cullen grabbed the small timeworn coin that rested against her moist skin. A small smile twitched at his scared lip, but it retreated when the tent flaps opened unexpectedly before he could retract his hand.

"Sweet Maker!" Cassandra walked in, quickly adverting her gaze. Cullen blushed before sliding his fingers clutching the coin out from her small clothes. Her voice lowered to a bit of a harsh whisper, as she searched for something in her belongings, "You two are going to do this now?!"

Evelyn's voice was froggy, but her stare conveyed her wish for privacy, "Cass..."

Having found what she came for, she simply said, "I apologize for the interruption." She eyed both of them as she backed out of the tent, adding one last sentiment, pointing to him sternly, "Watch her neck."

"Out!" He growled, having never taken that tone with the Seeker before - he'd probably regret it later. Turning back to Evelyn, she was laughing silently to herself, and he couldn't help but realize how long it had been since he'd seen her do that. "Maker's breath, am I ever going to live that down?"

"She was beside herself when she first saw it in South Reach, but then again, she was having a rough morning after my brother sent her sappy poetry."

"And yet, I'm the one constantly berated?"

"My brother is too stupid to care if he's made fun of. He did get the girl after all." He agreed with an unamused nod, before looking back down at the coin. Her voice was soft and melodic with her Marcher accent, "I told you I'd keep it safe, and now I return it to you." She stroked his hair, "That coin has literally been to the Void and back, it belongs in the Chanty as a holy relic."

He chuckled lightly, "All things considered, I think I'd like to keep it for a while longer. Corypheus isn't dead yet." They shared a knowing look before her grumbling stomach gurgled like a Rage demon. He groaned leaning down and straining his sore muscles trying to grab her clean shirt, "Come on, you need fed. Your initials are a constant reminder of it." He produced the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket, also returning it to her.

Still seated on his lap as she pulled the short-sleeved blouse over her head, she couldn't help the growing smile on her face, "I missed this. I missed you." Despite the smile, he could see her eyes becoming heavy and glassy again, and leaned forward capturing her lips knowing exactly how she was feeling. Her hands cupped his face desperately during the slow sorrowful kisses, reflecting on the unresolved issues that still loomed between them. After another minute, they parted silently, walking over to the tent flaps, but before they left she stopped him, "Um, this might look suspicious."

He sighed giving it a moment of thought, "We could've been doing anything in here, who are they to say for sure."

"You have a point," she seemed to be thinking it through, but then her stomach growled again. "Ah, fuck it, there are already rumors anyway. Let's go."

Emerging into the light, they made their way over to their private mess tent. Looking at the spread, it was the best food they could afford to break out in celebration of victory and for the team that had gone days without food. As they got closer, Evelyn took the last few strides to the table quicker than he, eager to get her hands on a pickle, even pushing her brother out of the way to poach it before he could. Spinning in victory back towards him, she bit it as if she hadn't eaten one in years.

The chatter around the table was lively enough for him to feel comfortable speaking unguardedly to her, "Three days with no food and you're ready to fight your brother for a pickle?" They shared a small laugh, as she shrugged, "You are something, Trevelyan." Her radiant smile fought through the layers of their conflict to bathe him in its splendor at the usage of her surname. He struggled with himself, wanting nothing more than to grab and kiss her again, but instead, he passed her a plate so she could pile on the food.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hawke's gaze watching them. His shifty eyes had black bags under them as he sat hunched over beside the fire before Varric joined him. Though the dwarf engaged him in conversation - at least he thought so, as Varric’s back was to him - Garret's eyes were still casually observing them. Squeezing in between the Trevelyan siblings, he grabbed himself a roll of bread unable to remember the last time he ate since his stomach had been too upset after the night terror. His hand hovered at the small of her back, then gently rested on it as he leaned over the table. Cullen felt her eyes on him, but he continued with his task, pretending to be ignorant of her gaze. His closeness allowed her to discreetly slip an arm around his lower back as well to gently massage circles into it. With no one, but the Champion to see the display, he hoped it was both a subtle and telling sign to Garret to back off. He hadn't had the chance to discuss him with Evelyn yet, but he fought against his treacherous mind recounting his nightmare of them against what he knew of Evelyn's character. Ignoring the chaos of his mind to look about, everyone was in a cheerful yet somber mood. The mission was a success, the rift was sealed, and the Inquisitor and her team were back safe.

"Excuse me, Commander," Solas cleared his throat eyeing his arm on the Inquisitor, "I need to examine the Inquisitor's mark." Trying to suppress the flush of his cheeks at the sudden intrusion, he simply replied with an innocent 'oh,' as if he hadn't known he had done it. Evelyn was biting her cheek trying not to smile at his reaction as she flipped her hand over for him to look at. Seeing the apostate's appearance, Leliana and the other four mages all convened around them to hear his assessment. After a few moments, he spoke, "Your mana fights the infection of the magic of the anchor. The veins have turned black because your fire has burned its advance up your arm."

Evelyn looked at him with hope, "So, it's not spreading, that's just scarring or discoloration?"

Suddenly the elf looked a bit uncomfortable, "No, I do think it is damaging your muscles and bone detrimentally."

Ilara chimed in, "Can we counter the damage? Rebuild what she loses with each use?" Vivienne seconded her need to know if there was another recourse other than the acceptance that her limb was deteriorating.

Solas sighed heavily, "I'm not sure. This magic was not meant for a human, or mortal for that matter it would seem, to wield."

As options were discussed, he turned his attention to Evelyn, who was staring off lost in thought. It was not what she wanted to hear, despite having even admitted to Arl Tegan that she suspected the mark would kill her. Part of her had to have held out hope that it could be removed or that the collective minds of the mages could come up with a treatment for its spread.

"If we can do nothing to slow the spread of the anchor's magic, can we stop Evie's from attacking it when it spreads? Would that help stop her hand and arm's deterioration?" Dorian asked. Solas' face held a sour expression, and the more they questioned, the less hope he had to offer. One by one he watched their expressions deflate in defeat as the conversation came to a halt.

Picking her head up and holding it high, she spoke with a practiced serenity, "Thank you all for your concern and efforts. We can discuss this later when we've all had some rest." As she walked through them, she patted some shoulders in passing, never stopping until she was behind the canvas of her tent. There was a despair in some of her companion's faces as if they had failed her. One by one they turned away heading for their respective tents. Owayne accompanied Cassandra, no doubt believing his sister needed some cheering up, and Cullen had to stop himself from following them in. Instead, he went back to work.

After an hour or two of quiet and dozens of reports indicating an increase in Red Templar activity in the Emerald Graves and Emprise du Lion, Evelyn emerged from her tent. She walked over to the fire waving a hand at it making it dance, before noticing him staring at her. Walking over to him quietly on the sand, she greeted him with a wan smile. Viewing the map and pieces placed about, he watched her finger the area of Orlais he had just been focusing on.

"With the threat of the rift gone, I issued orders for the army to pack up and head out in two days. The Trevelyan cavalry will secure the road back through Orlais for us. Despite the end of the civil war, a new enemy, the Freemen of the Dales, has emerged to take back Orlais for the people, so they say."

The Inquisitor looked up in thought, "There was a man who had sent word a while ago about them. Fairbanks, I believe that was his name. We should contact him immediately and set up a meeting to find out what he knows." She sighed heavily, "So much for some time off."

"Speaking of," Cullen tilted his head to look into her chocolaty eyes, "can't sleep?"

"I'd like to do nothing more than that, but… I fear the nightmares." The Inquisitor hugged herself and rubbed her arms.

He couldn't help but snort a small laugh, "You and me both." He groaned wiping a hand down his face before placing both hands on the table. For the next few minutes, he summarized the last few days of the Nightmare demon's effect on their people and what they were trying to do to bring them home.

"We lived our nightmares. If it wasn't for the spirit that guided us through, we would have been separated and picked off by Nightmare." He shivered at her words, thinking back to his night terror, imagining what it would've been like if his other senses were engaged. Her eyes grew distant, and though he wanted to hear more, she needed rest. There was a heaviness to her brow, like she was in pain and her yawns were contagious.

Catching her gaze, he walked around the table to take her hand, "You need rest, come on. We can speak of it after you've rested." Still grasping her hand gently, he began to walk in the direction of his tent, but she tugged his arm making him turn back to her.

"Only if you plan on sleeping as well?" A pointed look told him he better agree, and he consented with a nod hoping her presence at night once again would be enough to ward away the dark - for them both. Once inside, she stood back by the entrance as he pushed the two cots together, explaining that Rylen wasn't expected back until morning. Henley was taking the day shift and Rylen the night so the former could spend his evenings with Ilara when she was off-duty.

When the cots were ready, the two paused looking down at them as if they had never laid together before. The uncertainty only lasted a moment before she spun grabbing him by the shirt to pull him down with her. Their combined weight instantly collapsed the cots, shooting a fine dusting of sand out to the side. Thankfully the light padded bedroll helped cushion their fall, but when he looked over to make sure she was alright, she was quietly chuckling. Smiling over at her and shaking his head, he suddenly realized why he needed her. She lived in the moment, something that was hard for him to do always trying to plan ahead as if his life were a game of chess or stuck in his troubled past. He never simply enjoyed the present, and something as simple as her laughter after falling on their cots, made him realize this. If he were alone, he would've got up and cleaned it up, thinking that come morning or a pending emergency he didn't want his tent in such a state. But, her firm grip on his arm and laughter made him not care about anything beyond her smile.

"Oops," was all she whispered after calming down. Evelyn ran her fingers through her long hair, after shaking out her braid.

"I'm too tired to adequately make fun of you, Trevelyan," he opened his arms as she scooted over into his embrace. Even though they were still completely dressed, the Fade beckoned to them uncaring of their attire. Their leather boots kicked together with soft thuds as they wove their legs together. Her spicy-sweet scent floated about, coaxing deep relaxing breaths out of him.

She faced him looking up at him, stroking a finger along his jawline, "I appreciate that, though I fear exhausted or not, I still would've done it." Evelyn hummed a chuckle again, but despite the levity of their reconciliation their eyes were fighting to open.

Pulling her closer, before he fell asleep, he spoke into her hair, "I love you, Trevelyan."

Nuzzling up into his chin, he was awake just long enough to hear, "I love you more, Rutherford." In the safety of each other's arms, both slept soundly for the first time in days. He had missed the peace that her presence produced, as if he were a child again unable to sleep without his favorite toy. Except she was a living breathing woman who had him at her mercy. Having been without her for so long, this time he would not let her go again at any cost.