#expect amelia pavus!! who is she??? i need to know

[beaulesbian]

#i understood that reference

(part 2)

[dreadfutures]

Blue’s DA: Absolution Post

Just finished my first viewing. Impressions, spoilers, and some rambling. Let’s go! Stream of consciousness, baby.

When I first saw my little sisters playing DAI, it struck me as “THE GAY GAME” and BOY is this THE GAY FRANCHISE. And it’s so normal. No one makes a big deal about it at all. It’s just fuckin normal and everyone is so flirty from square one. There ain’t no one gonna watch this and then go into DA4 not being aware this is a queer friendly world.

The big things I’m taking away, besides that:

- Where do people go when they die? Death seems to be a central question of Absolution. Immortality is a central question in Thedas tbh, and I have so many questions that I am betting will absolutely be answered in DA4.

- The architecture: Nevarra has domes, and its mage tower is very very square. Ziggurat-y. Tevinter reminded me a lot of parts of Spain with its architecture, the mosaics in particular, but other things to. Morocco. A lot of Morocco actually. I love that. The canals, the verdantness, the tiered city on a mesa, I really loved.

- Parkour. And gameplay. Or at least the vibe of what I imagine DA4 is trying to go for.

- The politics of Tevinter.

SO here’s my first thing. If this is what one powerful Magister can do with blood magic and an ancient artifact--and ONE high dragon’s blood.... What the FUCK will Solas’s ritual do? (obviously, tear down the Veil.)

Also there wasn’t a lot of Veil being explained, but I feel like the most important thing for new people is the Spirits, Demons, Magic, Blood Magic, and Slavery.

Wisdom/Memory’s 8 eyes (as a Spirit) became 6 eyes when they were corrupted to Enmity/Pride.

Speaking of Memory--Amelia Pavus? Hello.

I 100% expect to hear something about Rezaren’s aspirations to become the Black Divine, in DA4. I 100% expect we’re going to see Dorian’s efforts to reform Tevinter, and the position of Black Divine will be incredibly relevant.

Honestly the internal politics in Tevinter are so fascinating. Tassia’s honest, earnest desire to make Tevinter better than its worst rumors. Trying to hold the people around her to higher standards--even when they are someone she loves. In the end, when her people need her to help the wounded, that’s what she does. That’s when she steps out of Rez’s games, and she goes to help people.

How does that play into Dorian and Maevaris’s efforts and the Lucerni?

We also, I don’t think, get a great view of how Tessia treats and thinks of elves and slaves. Is that something she also wants to fix in Tevinter? No idea.

I don’t think it’s a cheap throwaway that the Templar who tried to stop the gang in the wine cellar got the voiced line: “you’re the reason all my friends are dead.” They did a really good job I think emphasizing, with the camaraderie of the Tevinter Templars WHO DONT USE LYRIUM TO NEGATE MAGIC. THE POOR FOOLS. They’re just people.

I'm a little perplexed that Tassia didn't seem to know Neb was dead/an elf. She seems so in tune with the Templars under command, and while I get that he seems to be Rez's personal guard, he also somehow seems to be rank and file with the guards she works with? I don't know. But the way she talks to him makes it seem like she thinks he's living and conscious.

Someone said that Hira knows Meredith (The Crimson Knight) is going to wage war on all mages. I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s more likely that Hira has no idea the Crimson Knight is Meredith? And Meredith’s war is against the world, or Tevinter. It seems like Meredith may have been taken over by something or left a Demon of something or is channeling something at the heart of the red lyrium consciousness that just wants war, vengeance, bloodshed.

I honestly thought Hira would have been loyal to the Qun. This feels like it came out of nowhere, but at the same time, so did Meredith’s appearance here:

Someone suggested that we see Meredith in the Black Emporium in this show, but I really don’t think so? It doesn’t look like the BE. I know she was shown in DAI. I know.

I know most of the stories told in Dread Wolf Take You in Tevinter Nights were lies, or partially so, but I still feel like we should have heard about this. So I don’t know. Either way, Meredith shouldn’t have the idol, though.

We knew that the Venatori were still around post-Inquisition. Now we know there are still Red Templars about.

I think fewer people knew that the Venatori have (supposedly) been around longer than the Inquisition and Corypheus...? It took me a little bit and I’m still not 100% sure, but Hira being a child when the Venatori killed her family wouldn’t make sense with an Inquisition timeline.

Tinfoil hat: There are actually two factions within the Evanuris. Both evil and terrible, both going to destroy the world, and Solas stands between them. One is Red Lyrium aligned and one is Blight aligned, hence why we have Meredith vs. Corypheus (red lyrum vs. darkspawn) in the mural above. I know, I know, they’re intertwined. But I feel an itch. And I’m mighty suspicious.

I’m so suspicious about which Evanuris are in Trespasser’s Elven Mountain Ruins and which aren’t. It feels like factions. It feels like the Forgotten Ones/Evanuris split isn’t the only split, or it’s more significant than we realize.

Okay so what happens to dead people? Was it really Justinia we saw in Here Lies the Abyss in DAI? Was this really Neb? You could say “it was really a Spirit who took Neb’s form, embodied Neb’s love for his sister, and stood against blood magic and so decided to destroy Neb’s body.” But I think it was really Neb. I really do. So what happens to people when they die? Is it only elves? Is it humans?

The Spirit says at the beginning: “By name and by nature, mortals are doomed to die.” Which by the way is a very Cole way of saying things I think, and I love it.

I don’t think it was a coincidence that the dragon doesn’t attack Qwydion the Qunari and likes her.

Speaking of Qwydion, she’s introduced as a rebel mage. Which to me implies that she’s from a faction that rebelled against the Circle. Not that she’s someone who left the Qun.

It’s so interesting that we can see Rez’s mother remove a demon from her son and put it in someone else. So we could deal with abominations and with Harrowings all along, huh. lol.

I’ve been making a list of silly Andrastian sayings and Thedas-isms lol. There were some good ones in this show.

The magic in this show was badass. Super awesome. Beyond just the scale of it. The dome that gets put around the circulum looks like the one Corypheus put around Calpernia's old master. Rez’s magic feels way more powerful than other peoples, and it looks awesome. His multi-threaded missile attack when he’s defending against the sloth demons that attacked with Pride look awesome.

If you think about it this whole show revolves around what is acceptable collateral damage. The whole temple is going to kill everyone inside. That’s lit.

I wish I knew what those bird things were that were setting off the traps throughout the temple.

In general this temple makes me scratch my head. Andraste (who loses her nose in the finale lmfao) is holding magic in her hands. Andraste seems to be more of a saint than the pinnacle of the religion in Tevinter, so it’s weird that she’s all over. Cool I guess, I don’t have anything else to say, really. Except that in Rez’s dream of being Black Divine, his outfit was terrible. LOL

I actually really loved the dream sequence. It felt super validating to how I’ve always imagined Fade sequences going lol.

They also I don’t think mentioned the Fade at all lol.

okay okay i’m done for now x) I’m stewing up some other theories and stuff but yeah.

[shannaraisles]

Her Beacon And Her Shield - Chapter 23

Commander Cullen Rutherford was not enjoying the delights of Halamshiral. As a Ferelden, he held an inherited distaste for all things Orlesian; as a soldier, he despised all the scheming and politicking. He was a practical man; if a problem needed solving, he preferred to solve it, not wait around and trap someone else into doing all the work for him. Yet here, he was obliged to stand and wait, trusting that others had the situation well in hand. It did not sit well with him, especially when the most prominent of those others was his own wife. The Imperial court watched her like a flock of vultures watches a dying man in the desert, each player just waiting for the opportunity to strike, and he hated it.

It made his blood boil to hear them discussing her - their petty judgments based on her looks, her bearing, the power she held, the influence she wielded. To him, she was beautiful, strong; to hear them dissect every nuance of her being in such derogatory terms was infuriating. They saw her as vulnerable, and were eager to take aim; yet, as the night wore on, he noted a change in those overheard conversations. Plain became striking; dull, charming; weak, strong; and all the while, one word was hinted at, but remained unspoken - dangerous. Whether a danger to themselves or to others, the court began to recognize the merits of staying on the Inquisitor's good side. And this, he approved of ... until they started to involve him.

It began simply enough. Cordial introductions, asinine comments on the ball, futile invitations to dance, that sort of thing. When this didn't draw him into offering anything even remotely resembling a hint of support for their interests, it became flattery - comments on his handsome face, his broad shoulders, his remarkable eyes. Then the innuendo began. Surrounded by courtiers both male and female, he was besieged with increasingly tortured metaphor - offers to tame his dragon, ride his bronto, pet his serpent, and other terrible, obvious attempts to seduce him into coming down hard on their side. Each one he politely rejected, gritting his teeth against angry words when, finally, they began to pass comment on Amelia. He didn't want to know that Comtess Emilie thought his wife's naked body must be glorious in the moonlight, or that Marquis DuBarron had speculated with several of his friends on the sounds the Herald of Andraste would make in bed. He had to quite literally bite his own tongue when the Baron of Val Chevin suggested that the Inquisitor should pose nude for him, so he could paint her as Andraste In Ecstacy at The Maker's Love. But perhaps he should have reacted to that. Perhaps then they wouldn't have started ... fondling him when he wasn't looking.

Maker, the way they behaved was appalling! Didn't they care that he was married? Not only married, but devoted to his wife, who was quite possibly the most powerful woman they were ever likely to meet. Did they think that the whole world should join them in their casual disregard for their marriage vows? Even if he were not in love with Amelia, he would never shame her by responding to these selfish, thoughtless solicitations. Honestly, did anyone ever respond favorably when a pampered nobleman just came right out and offered to be not only their mistress, but their spouse's, too? Quite apart from the sheer presumption of such an offer, it galled Cullen to know that the man didn't make the suggestion from any particular interest in himself or Amelia, but as an attempt to place himself in a position of influence within the Inquisition. He couldn't help wondering if any of them would dare to be so bold if his wife were with him, only to discover that, yes, they would.

He had no idea how she could just laugh off that indecent proposal, but it was a relief to be claimed and pulled out of sight of his annoying band of admirers. It was only a couple of minutes, but it was time enough to reassure her that he was not tempted to stray, and him that she was handling the poison of the court without harm. He envied the fact that she was going to escape for a while, even if knowing she was going in blind gave him more cause to worry. Still, he would prefer a straight fight to all this Orlesian nonsense.

Thank the Maker for that short reprieve, though. The comments renewed as soon as he returned to his post, and this time, there was no gentle build up.

"Tell me commander," the curious comte said conversationally, "are you familiar with the concept of ménage à trois?"

As it happened, Cullen was familiar with the concept, and his angry flush said as much to everyone there. "I don't believe that is an appropriate topic, comte," he managed to say, but the man couldn't take a hint.

"I mention it only because you and your wife seem to share an uncommon bond," the comte went on. "It is well known that the couple who plays together, stays together."

"Let me assure you, my lord, that fidelity is not uncommon in Ferelden, or the Free Marches," Cullen told him firmly. "My wife and I need no assistance to stay together."

"But I have heard that your marriage was not desired by you," a giggly marquise interjected, her eyes fixed on his lips as he gratefully took another glass of wine from the elven servant who offered it. "A man ordered to wed is not expected to be faithful in Orlais."

That bloody book again, he thought, silently cursing Varric for ever having started the damned thing. "I am not Orlesian, my lady," he pointed out through clenched teeth, swallowing another mouthful of wine. "I do not need to take a part in Orlesian pastimes."

"Would you like an Orlesian to take part in you?"

Cullen choked on his wine, groping for a napkin to wipe his mouth and chin as the nobles gathered around him erupted into tittering laughter, delighted with his response to the blunt tease offered to him. He scowled, trying to restrain himself from punching the baron who had made that suggestion. What was wrong with these people? Any answer he might have come up with, however, was thankfully forestalled by the unexpected arrival of Solas at his side.

"Commander, may I?" Without waiting for the requested permission, the elven apostate took the glass from his hand, raising it to sniff delicately at the contents. "Ah, I have discovered the source," the mage said cryptically, removing a small vial from his pouch. "Drink this, commander. I would not recommend taking any more drinks offered by the servants."

"What is wrong with the wine?" Cullen asked with a suspicious frown.

"Aside from being an inferior vintage, it would seem to have been poisoned, commander." Solas made no attempt to lower his voice as he said this, sending Cullen's gaggle of unwelcome admirers into panicked retreat. They scattered from the commander's side, abandoning their own glasses in favor of finding somewhere reasonably private to force themselves to vomit before swallowing down as many antidotes as they could find in the immediate vicinity.

Amusing as that might have been, the context deeply worried Cullen. "How did you know about the poison?" he asked the elf, pausing to drink the contents of the vial. He may not have liked Solas much, but he trusted the man. It was certainly an astringent mixture, the painful tang as he swallowed suggesting it was freshly made from whatever had been harvested within the last hour. "Did Amelia discover something already?"

"In a manner of speaking." Solas was a master at giving unsatisfactory answers, and it seemed that was all Cullen was getting out of him. "You were the target, certainly. Excuse me, I must speak with Lady Leliana."

As the elf slipped from his side, Cullen realized with a start that someone here had tried to kill him. Not Amelia, not any of her private circle, but him. Yet who could have tried it? He doubted his now absent crowd of hangers-on had been responsible, given their collective horror at the mere idea of poison. No, it seemed more likely that the ineffectual contamination had been supplied to him by the servant who had refilled his glass. That, in itself, pointed the finger of blame at Ambassador Briala, but what did she have to gain from poisoning the Commander of the Inquisition? Unless she was the agent of Tevinter ... but if she wanted him dead, he doubted she would have used a poison that didn't seem to have had any effect on him at all. And since it had no effect, how had Solas known to check his glass for poison?

He scowled, angry at the lack of answers, casting his gaze about the room. The familiar bulk of the Iron Bull had taken up station beside Josephine and her sister, no doubt delighting young Yvette; a flicker near Vivienne suggested that Cole was not far from the enchanter, summoned back from his snooping to stand guard. Solas and Leliana had their heads bent together across the room ... and it wasn't long before Dorian came sauntering to his side.

"What is going on, Dorian?" he demanded in a low growl. It was plain to see that the Inquisition had closed ranks in the Inquisitor's absence, but the lack of information was sorely testing his temper.

"My dear fellow, do relax," Dorian told him, but he knew his friend well enough to recognize the tense undercurrent in the urbane tone. "Never fear, for I, Dorian Pavus, am your bodyguard for the remainder of the evening."

"Dorian ..." Now was not the time for teasing. "How did Solas know there was a poison in my wine?"

The Tevinter mage seemed surprised he needed to ask. "Process of elimination, dear chap," he said in a level tone. "When Amelia collapsed, it was simply a case of retracing her steps." He blanched - Cullen was suddenly gripping his upper arm far too tightly for comfort.

"Amelia collapsed?" the worried husband repeated, his voice low but frantic. "Where is she? What happened?"

Dorian stared at him. "Solas didn't tell you anything, did he?"

"Tell me what?" Cullen demanded, fighting to keep his voice low. "What the hell has happened to my wife?"

"Far less than could have happened to you," Dorian said calmly. "Let go of me, and I will tell you."

Reluctantly, Cullen released his grip, feeling slightly ashamed of himself as his friend rubbed the offended limb. He didn't like being kept in suspense, but he knew someone would have come for him if Amelia was in serious trouble. "I apologize," he murmured. "Please, Dorian. Tell me what's happened."

"Very well." Behind the cover of smoothing his mustache, Dorian filled him in. "Shortly after she left the ballroom, Amelia collapsed into Cassandra's arms," he told the worried man beside him. "She is perfectly fine - as far as I know, she is busy slaughtering Venatori in the servants' wing as we speak. Solas identified the poison as he healed her and enlisted a couple of the servants to help him create the antidote; a nasty little concoction from my homeland, I am ashamed to say, known as mortsomnus. Quite literally, the sleep of death. It does have one interesting peculiarity, however - it only takes effect on those who have lyrium in their system. Someone is operating on out-of-date information about you, Cullen."

"But they used it on her," Cullen pointed out, not sure he was happy with Amelia fighting so soon after being poisoned. Still, she was stubborn enough to stay upright until she was out of the ballroom; who was he to suggest she should take better care of herself?

"Interestingly, no," Dorian said, his tone light. "The dose she took was minuscule, or she would certainly be dead."

"And the poison was in my glass," Cullen said slowly, the truth dawning on him. Again? He had put his own wife's life in danger again? "I kissed her. I had a drink, and then I kissed her. Maker's breath, Dorian, I almost killed my wife. For the third time!"

For a long moment, Dorian said nothing, his expression making it absolutely clear how stupid that declaration was. "Glossing over the unnecessary guilt and inappropriate angst," he said eventually, as Cullen flushed under that look, well aware that he wasn't reacting entirely appropriately to the situation. It wasn't his fault someone had tried to poison him, and kissing his own wife was not a crime. "Someone in this room wants you dead. Leliana and Solas are investigating; I am here to defend your noble life. And your virtue, if it comes to it."

"My virtue does not need defen - my life does not need defending," the commander bristled. He was angry now - angry that he had been attacked personally, angry that Amelia had almost died because of it, and angry that he couldn't do a damned thing about it. Leliana was the right person to investigate this, and he knew it.

"Do you have any idea what my favorite cousin would do to me if I allowed anything to happen to you?" Dorian asked, both brows raised above a teasingly serious smile. "Terrible things. Probably starting with my testicles."

Despite himself, Cullen let out a low laugh. The thought of Amelia ever raising a hand against Dorian was patently absurd. "You're sure she's recovered?" he asked, letting the anger go to indulge his concern.

"Perfectly well," Dorian assured him. "Furious, which is just as well. She was wilting a bit before this. And with the antidote in your system, no more ill effects from illicit canoodling on the job."

"We were not -" Catching Dorian's smirk, Cullen sighed, rolling his eyes. "All right, fine. I had her half-naked on the balcony. Better?"

"Not as good as you half-naked on the balcony, but I'll take what I can get," his friend chuckled warmly.

With Dorian at his side, there were no more admirers brave enough to approach Cullen. It was clear to everyone that something had happened - the Inquisition had closed ranks, and as the rumor of poison spread, very few were inclined to continue imbibing so freely as they had before. An aura of tense fear settled over the ball, made somehow worse when it became obvious that the peace talks were breaking down. Gaspard was seen marching away from Celene, shaking his head in disgust. Increasingly, talk turned to war, with the various factions making themselves known as they separated from one another throughout the ballroom.

Into all this walked Amelia, cheeks flushed from exertion, with Grand Duchess Florianne on her arm. Seeing her upright and unharmed, albeit a little disheveled, Cullen found himself breathing more easily again, flashing her a brief smile as the two women passed on the way to the dancefloor. She couldn't respond, but that moment of eye contact unwound the tight knot in his stomach. As the music began, a gentle hand touched his back, Leliana's voice close to his ear.

"Ambassador Briala has someone she wants us to meet," she murmured to him. "Dorian can stay here as our point of contact. I think you will want to hear this, commander."

Tearing his gaze from his wife, Cullen nodded, glancing to Dorian just to make sure. The mage toasted him with his own personal hip flask in answer and, reassured, the commander stepped back into the shadows, turning to follow Leliana around the edge of the room and out onto the opposite balcony. The ambassador was waiting for them, with two of the elves who had been serving drinks all night.

"Commander," Briala greeted him with a nod. "Nightingale. I trust there have been no further attempts on the Inquisition?"

"Not yet," Leliana answered levelly. "We have taken steps to protect our own."

"Then allow me to solve the mystery," the elven ambassador offered. "In exchange for protection, Jennet and Silas are willing to testify against the one who attempted a poisoning in the Imperial ballroom."

"Are they?" Cullen turned a stern gaze onto the two elves. They looked vaguely familiar, but sadly, he had not truly noted the faces of the elves who had been serving him tonight. He would have to improve on that - just because they were elves and servants did not mean they were below his notice. "Who do you need protection from?"

"Lord Trevelyan, the Duchess' betrothed," Jennet burst out. "He wants you dead, commander, and he'll kill us for failing."

"How much did he pay you?" Leliana asked sharply. "Where did you get your hands on such a rare poison?"

"It-it was the lord," Silas stammered. "H-he gave us the b-bottles."

"There was no payment, Lady Nightingale," Briala added. "Lord Trevelyan discovered them working on my orders. It was a choice between obedience and death, and his offer of death would have been lingering."

"He'll not have the chance to harm you," Cullen promised the pair. Perhaps he should have resented their actions, but he knew how this world worked. Don't blame the weapon; blame the hand that wields it. "Do you know why he wanted me dead?"

"It-it was a test, ser," Silas told him nervously. "If you went down to the poison, we were to give it to the Lady Inquisitor. It must have been a bad batch."

"Serves him right for wasting money on Tevinter rubbish," Jennet added in disgust.

"All right, come with me," Cullen told them. "I'll see you to safety."

It was the work of only a few minutes to deliver the two elves to his sergeant, their safety assured in exchange for their testimony. Well worth missing Amelia's dance. So Lorent Trevelyan had finally made his move. He had made no secret of his desire to see all his siblings dead; it stood to reason that he would focus on Amelia now she was the last remaining rival to his inheritance. Cullen wondered if the man even suspected the real reason his plan had failed. If Amelia had not been so insistent on weaning him off the lyrium slowly, he might well have gone back to it, and thus Lorent's poison would have done its work on him tonight. It seemed gloriously fitting that she'd saved both their lives month ago, probably even before her brother came up with his scheme. Lorent had never been able to outwit his baby sister, even when she had no idea what he was up to.

Leliana rejoined him as he entered the ballroom, both of them heading to where Josephine had drawn Amelia to one side.

"Were you dancing with Duchess Florianne?" the spymaster asked, sounding inappropriately excited to Cullen's ears.

"More importantly, are you all right?" he interjected, meeting his wife's eyes with anxious concern. "What happened in the servants' quarters? I heard there was fighting."

"The Venatori were there," Amelia told them in a low tone. "Blackwall took a bad hit - Solas is seeing to him now. Between us and Briala's agents, we managed to clear them out, but Briala lost a lot of people down there tonight."

"That explains a little help she just gave us," Leliana said thoughtfully. "I had wondered at her motivation."

Before Amelia could ask, Josephine spoke up. "I hope you had some success in narrowing the field," she said worriedly. "It appears the peace talks are crumbling."

"I'm not sure you could call it success," Amelia answered. "The Grand Duchess just tried to convince me Gaspard is the traitor, but I'm not sure I buy it."

"Florianne and her brother are as thick as thieves," Leliana mused. "But if Lorent was acting on her suggestion ..."

"Wait ... Lorent?" Amelia frowned, glancing between the three of them with curious eyes.

"Is our poisoner," Cullen told her as gently as he could manage. "We have proof, and that you were the ultimate target."

She seemed to sag imperceptibly. "I had hoped he wasn't involved in this," she admitted in a reluctant tone. "Just conspiracy to murder is enough to rob my father of his last remaining child."

"You cannot focus on that right now," Leliana told her - unnecessarily harsh, in Cullen's view, but unfortunately warranted. "What did Duchess Florianne tell you?"

Straightening her shoulders, Amelia pulled her thoughts away from her foolish brother and the consequences of his actions. "She said Gaspard's mercenary captain is in the Royal Wing," she told them. "That he knows about the assassination."

Cullen snorted with derision. That was an even more obvious set up than Redcliffe had been. "Trap," he said simply.

Amelia nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought."

"So what should we do?" Josephine asked in a hopeless tone.

"Well, I'm going to the Royal Wing," Amelia told her confidently. "She's gone to so much effort to set this up, I feel I shouldn't disappoint her. Leliana, have your agents arrest Lorent as discreetly as possible. If I'm right about all this, Florianne won't even notice he's gone." As Leliana nodded, Amelia turned her eyes to Cullen. "It's time. Get your soldiers into position."

"At once." But before she could walk away again, he reached out to catch her hand. "Be careful, Ame."

She paused, looking up at him with a confident smile. "For the first time this evening, I know what's going on," she assured him, rising onto her toes to kiss him in front of all those curious eyes. "I'll be fine."

He didn't wait to watch her walk away, oddly reassured by her confidence that she knew what was happening. The momentum of the evening was finally rushing toward its inevitable conclusion, and he had work to do. He just had to hope that she really did know what she was doing.

[shannaraisles]

Her Beacon And Her Shield - Chapter 8

It was a peculiarity of the Haven Chantry that candlesticks were only used in the chapel proper. In the war room, once the Revered Mother's quarters, an entire sideboard was devoted to candles, stood randomly in groups of three or four, set in place by the spilled wax of their predecessors. When one burned out, it was customary to set its successor in the molten remains, thus adding to the accumulation obscuring the original surface. It was a habit that seemed to deeply offend the Herald of Andraste, but not even her fussy habits could make a difference.

Cullen sighed as he set a new candle in place, a faint smile touching his weary features at the memory of the disgusted glance Amelia gave the sideboard every time she entered here. She was probably itching to clean it up, but she'd had no time or opportunity to do so. Oh, Amelia ... Their rooms in the Gallows had been spotless, lovingly maintained in a state of order and cleanliness he had never developed a knack for in his personal spaces. But he had appreciated the lack of clutter and dust, once he'd learned just where everything was kept. It may have seemed a small thing to her, but the order with which she helped him begin and end each day had been a balm to his troubled spirit.

He blinked out of his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose as he returned to the great map. His sleep last night had been disturbed, old nightmares coming to the fore once more to torment his mind and soul. They were easier to bear with lyrium, but he did not want to always be reliant on the stuff. Amelia's insistence on weaning him slowly off it had negated many of the unpleasant side effects he had been suffering alone with his ill-fated attempt to never touch the blue again. She had started him on just half the dose he had been taking in the days before he walked away from being a templar, and now, four months on, his daily philter had been reduced to just a fraction of that, a mouthful swallowed with the dawn every day. Oh, the pains still came, and likely always would, hitting him worst when he pushed himself too hard, or allowed fear and anger to ferment too long in his mind. Yet they were not so severe as they had been before his wife's gentle assumption of responsibility for overcoming his addiction. He could work through these pains, his mind still clear enough to trust in his ability to make decisions, his hand steady enough to bear a sword or write his orders. The nightmares, too, would never leave him entirely - he had seen too much, suffered too much, to ever expect to be free of them. But he had ways to cope with those sleepless nights, no longer too afraid to even attempt sleep. As he recalled, they had been easiest to bear when Amelia slept in his arms, but that was an intimacy he was not ready to venture yet. There were so many words still unspoken between them. It would take more than wishful thinking to clear the air and truly begin again.

His fingertips touched the owl marker on the map - her marker. Her last reported position had been in the foothills of the Frostbacks two days ago, making good time back to Haven in the wake of what sounded like a truly horrifying experience in Redcliffe. Time magic, demon armies ... Amelia's report had come by messenger, and that sheaf of parchment had made for sobering reading. She had left nothing out, including a graphic description of his own death in that dark future. As if he needed any more reason to despise red lyrium and those who moved it.

He had not been happy with Leliana's plan in the first place, and it had nothing to do with his frustration at the blindingly obvious necessity of removing the magister. He had spoken at some length on his objections - shouted was a more honest description - accusing the Nightingale of everything from deliberately withholding information to actively having a hand in the magister's presence in Redcliffe in the first place. But what had really set him off was her cavalier attitude to putting Amelia directly into danger. I will not allow you to send my wife blindly into harm's way ... or words to that effect. The thought of Amelia trapped in that impregnable castle, subject to torture and death at the hands of a Tevinter magister, had sent him over the edge from rational argument into blind panic. To her credit, Leliana had let him rant and rave, and then quietly punctured his rage by suggesting that he warn his wife of the trap in an addendum to her raven-sent missive. In response, he had fumbled his way through an apology, only to have her dismiss it with a laugh and a comment that it was good to see him caring for more than tents, swords, and drills. Come to think of it, Josephine and Leliana had been smiling at him a lot since that meeting.

The situation in Redcliffe had changed everything. Whatever the templars were doing at Therinfal Redoubt, there was a clear threat brewing at the hands of Gereon Alexius. It had to be dealt with, and if their intervention meant destroying all hope of approaching the templars, then so be it. Cullen wasn't at peace with the decision, feeling as though he had betrayed his brothers and sisters in the Order, though he knew there had been no choice. Setting Amelia's life into the hands of another Tevinter mage, despite the sound strategy of it, had not sat well with him either. Even though it had proved to be the right decision, he did not like this Dorian Pavus' proximity to the Herald of Andraste. To his wife. The man was too smooth, too charming, too handsome. He had his own agenda, and it worried Cullen to think of Amelia being hurt by some heedless scheme.

Not as much, however, as the decision Amelia had been forced into at Redcliffe. He had warned her against presuming to speak for the Inquisition, but given the circumstances, he knew he could not blame her too much. The presence of King Alistair and Queen Anora was intimidating enough, and the threat of violence had clearly been all too real. But a full alliance ... Maker's breath. Did she know what she'd done? The mages had already proved that they could not be trusted with their own freedom, and yet she had offered them a full alliance with the Inquisition, with no restrictions on their movements or activities. An offer witnessed by the King and Queen of Ferelden, no less, denying any hope of inserting some cautionary clause into the agreement. It was a disaster in the making ...

He stopped his thoughts before they could spiral out of control. Not every mage was like Uldred. Amelia was his proof of that. Each time he found his fears escalating, he reminded himself of the mage who had shared his life intimately for three years. Uldred was the exception, not the rule. Amelia knew mages. She had to have her reasons for this decision she had dragged them all into.

Reasons he would soon hear, it seemed, as the sound of cheering penetrated the thick silence. Haven only cheered like that for their Herald. He pushed away from the map, making his way out into the chapel proper. It was no surprise to find Josephine and Leliana already there, still discussing the pros and cons of their new alliance.

"... there will be alarm at the freedom we have offered the mages," Josephine was saying in a cautionary tone. "We will need to convince our noble allies of the wisdom in this arrangement."

"The nobles see all mages as a threat," Leliana said dismissively. "I do not see the need to impose restrictions on our new allies, They have already tasted the danger of giving anyone too much say in their affairs."

"The danger is not a matter for debate," Cullen told her yet again, coming to stand with them as the doors opened to admit Amelia, Cassandra, and the Tevinter mage, Dorian Pavus. "There is an increased risk of abominations so close to the Breach. We must be prepared."

"If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent, at best," Josephine pointed out warily. "Tyrannical, at worst."

"I said nothing of rescinding the offer," he said patiently, looking to the newcomers as they joined the discussion. "I am simply restating my concerns about mages with no oversight in such close proximity to a tear in the Veil."

"There will be oversight, commander," Cassandra assured him confidently. "Though we will have to mediate for a time, I believe, until a balance is found."

"What are you talking about, Cassandra?" Leliana frowned curiously.

"The Herald can explain better than I," the Seeker said, nodding toward Amelia. "I may not fully agree with her decision, but I support it."

Cullen's own curiosity focused on Amelia. She looked exhausted, heartsick, her eyes moving hungrily over his face even as he caught her gaze. She swallowed at the sudden attention, clearly her throat to speak.

"I have ... arranged oversight for the mages," she told them, her voice hoarse from her dry throat. "Cullen is right - there is an increased risk. I would like to believe all mages share my belief in peace, my self-control, but I am not so foolish as to think they all do. So the night before we left Redcliffe ... I sent a raven to Therinfal Redoubt."

"The Lord Seeker will not have read that message," Leliana warned her. "But thank you for explaining the whereabouts of my bird."

"I didn't send it to the Lord Seeker," Amelia said wearily.

"Then ... to whom did you send your message?" Josephine asked the obvious question, though she seemed more concerned about the way the mage was leaning heavily on her staff than the content of the conversation.

"To Ser Delrin Barris," Amelia elaborated. She looked at their confused faces, sighing through her tired smile. "In Val Royeaux, one templar objected to the assault on Mother Hevara; one templar questioned the Lord Seeker's actions. I asked Varric to use his people and discover his name for me. And the message I sent was very simple - I offered sanctuary within the Inquisition for any templar unwilling to follow Lucius, any templar who wants peace. Four days ago, I got a reply."

"Ser Barris believes the officers of the Order have been corrupted," Cassandra took up the tale. "He circulated the Herald's offer among those in the ranks whom he trusts, and reports that some forty are marching to Haven to join the Inquisition."

"So few," Josephine murmured, but Cullen was fighting the urge to hoot with delight. Amelia had done what he had been afraid to do without the agreement of all, offering a chance to the templars trapped within the Order who were loyal to Thedas. All right, so it was going to mean there would be an escalation in tension in Haven for a while, but he could deal with that.

"Why?" Leliana was demanding. "Why would you do this?"

"Because the templars deserve a chance," Amelia answered her. "Because we need people who can counter magic gone wrong, just in case. And because I believe it will take both mages and templars to close the Breach. Solas doesn't like it, but he agrees with my reasoning."

The Nightingale frowned deeply, crossing her arms over her chest. "Explain."

Amelia sighed once again. "We need power, yes," she said calmly. "But we also need control. Mages are used to channeling their energy through a staff - asking a group to focus their power into my hand has no guarantee of success. Templars cannot create it, but they can focus magical energy toward a certain place. I've seen them do it - taking hold of a released spell and sending it harmlessly away from them. Mages can provide the power we need; templars can ensure that I am the focus of it. Power and control, not one or the other."

"The idea has merit in more than one sense," Josephine spoke into the thoughtful silence that followed. "Cooperation in adversity often overcomes prejudices. If both mages and templars work together to seal the Breach, there will be the potential for a more lasting peace between them."

"The voice of pragmatism speaks," Dorian piped up, earning himself a rather hard look from Cullen. The mage had his hand on Amelia's shoulder, and the commander was trying very hard not to reach out and snatch it away from her. "Or is it fatalism? I can never recall the difference."

"Closing the Breach is our goal," Cassandra declared, defiantly looking Leliana in the eye. "I approve."

Leliana considered Amelia for a long moment, no hint of what she was thinking behind her steely gaze. Then she turned to Cullen. "Well, commander? Can you keep the peace with the war now transferred to within our own ranks?"

Despite his elation at this unexpected turn of events, Cullen could still foresee the potential for disaster. "We will have to keep a tight rein on both groups," he said thoughtfully. "But attitudes will change in close ranks. There may be a few expulsions in the first weeks, but the ultimate goal is peace. Yes, I believe this will work."

"Then we have consensus, for the first time." Leliana nodded, her eyes flickering back to Amelia. "But next time, Herald ... a discussion before you act."

"I didn't have a lot of room for finesse, Leliana," Amelia responded mildly. "But as you wish."

Finally the Left Hand cracked a smile. "You did well," she conceded, a hint of warmth in her usually level tone. "It was not what any of us might have done, but ... perhaps Andraste might have, in your position."

"I would never presume to have the wisdom of Andraste," Amelia demurred, but she was touched by the compliment, Cullen could tell. "Templars and mages are going to require a great deal of untainted lyrium," she added tentatively. "I ... made contacts in the Hinterlands who can help."

"Contacts, meaning smugglers," Cassandra clarified, her expression disapproving.

Leliana, however, looked impressed. "Send them word," she told Amelia. "We need every advantage."

"We do have legitimate lyrium supply lines already," Cullen felt obliged to point out.

"And they don't need to hear of this," Leliana countered with a wry quirk of her brow.

Josephine sighed, but her eyes were bright at the thought of another challenge for her diplomacy skills. "Keep it under the table," the ambassador suggested. "I'll do what I can to quiet rumors."

That settled, Leliana's expression grew grave. "We should look into the things you saw in this dark future," she said seriously. "The assassination of Empress Celene, a demon army. It is troubling."

"Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do," Dorian interjected lightly, watching Cullen's face with an expression that made the commander feel deeply uncomfortable. What was the man looking for? "Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone."

"One battle at a time." Cullen broke in to avoid the inevitable debate. "It's going to take time to organize our troops, and settle the animosity between our new mages and templars. Let's take this into the war room," he suggested, his gaze softening as he met Amelia's eyes. "Join us. None of this means anything without you."

"And I'd thought to sit out the assault on the Breach," she sighed, a bright smile cracking her dejected expression almost instantly. "Take a nap, maybe go for a walk."

Cullen found himself chuckling at her tease, glad her spirit hadn't been broken in Redcliffe. "What is it they say? No rest for the wicked."

"I'm not wicked," she objected in amusement. "I'm mildly naughty, at best."

"Enough!" It was Josephine's turn to step in, laughing as she waved a hand between them. An argument between Herald and commander could go on for hours - who knew how long they could banter for? "Meet us there, Lady Trevelyan, when you're ready."

In spite of his levity, Cullen scowled when Dorian pulled Amelia aside, keeping her from following immediately. The man caught his scowl, throwing a delighted smile back at him before the door to the war room swung shut once more. What did that Tevinter have to smile about? All right, yes, in all probability he had saved Amelia's life, and consequently the world, but surely that was no reason to look so smug. Jealousy was not an attractive trait, he knew, but the level of familiarity between Amelia and Pavus set his teeth on edge. Was she having second thoughts about continuing their marriage?

Thankfully, she was quick to join them, bending her head over the map as Leliana and Josephine brought her up to speed on what had been happening in her absence. She had changed in the months since the Conclave, no longer shy of speaking up with her thoughts in these meetings. He had noticed that they all had begun to look for her opinion on a given course of action; her preference decided what they would do. Her contact with the templars showed a degree of confidence that had been lacking until now. She had seen a solution and taken it, trusting her own instincts, rather than seeking out the tedium of circular debate. He was proud of her; proud of the woman she had become, proud to be able to call himself her friend ... and, perhaps someday, he would be able to call himself her husband once more.

His thoughts wandered as he watched her talk with Josephine and Leliana, admiring her fondly in silence. She had filled out a little on the regular meals the Inquisition provided, some of her softness returning to compliment the toned strength of her core, hidden beneath her fitted armor. There had always been intelligence in her eyes to catch his attention, but she was learning quickly to grasp strategy after months of war room meetings, able to spot flaws he missed from his own perspective. Her smile came more readily as she relaxed into her position, sharing her humor with those she considered her friends. A lock of hair had fallen into her face; his fingers twitched against the pommel of his sword, wanting to tuck it back just for an excuse to touch her. Would she lean into that touch, the way she had before, or would she shake it away? Would she ever welcome him into her arms again?

"... commander?"

"What?" With a start, he realized he should have been paying attention, snapping his gaze back to the map under Leliana's knowing smirk. "I'll begin preparations to march on the summit," he said, hoping it was an appropriate response. "Maker willing, both templars and mages will grant us victory."

"Indeed." That smirk of Leliana's was going to make him blush, he was sure. "Then I think we are done for now. The scouts will need time on the mountain, and in any case, we have to wait for our new allies to arrive."

That was all they could do, for now. As they slipped away to their own business, Amelia hung back, catching Cullen's hand as he passed her. He turned ... and quite suddenly she was in his arms, hungry lips fastened to his own in a kiss he had not dared to even imagine, much less look for. But, oh, how he had missed this. The clutch of her fingers in his hair, the ease with which his arms found their place about her waist, frustrated by the separation of his armor and hers between them as she drank desperately from him. She was still soft, still tender, still tasting faintly of berries as she slanted her mouth beneath his, demanding affection that he willingly gave, losing himself to the heady sensation of his wife in his arms. And just as suddenly, the kiss was over, leaving him breathless and bereft as he looked into her flushed face.

"I just ... needed to know," she whispered, her gloved fingers stroking against his cheek for a brief moment before she drew away, disappearing through the door to leave him staring at the wall in complete privacy.

She'd kissed him. He'd kissed her. The first kiss in over a year, and still she could make him lose his mind in moments. And to pull away ... she had held all the power, and exercised it, and he had not felt the need to take charge as he once had. But ... needed to know what, he wondered. What had she been so desperate to know that had needed a kiss to confirm? And, more importantly ... how in the name of Andraste's frilly undies was he supposed to concentrate now?