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Chapter Text

Velania sat, on her bed, looking at the yellow sandstone wall of the Kirkwall Circle, waiting. What for, she didn’t know, but she knew it wasn’t good.

            “Enchanter Velania.” Speak of the demon. Knight-Commander Meredith stood in the doorway, a triumphant look in her piercing blue eyes and her hands held behind her back. “I have come to…speak…to you of your little stunt this afternoon.”

            At her words, Velania stood up and let her mana spread out in the air, the sheer power of it a silent threat.

            Meredith wasn’t fazed, merely tsk-tsking before continuing, “Now, now, girl, there’s no need to get all angry. After all,” she brought her hands out from behind her, “you won’t have your emotions much longer.” Velania looked down, and, to her horror, the knight-commander was holding The Brand.

            “Meredith, stay back,” Velania commanded. “I’m serious.” She took a step back, hands at the ready.

            Meredith moved just inside the door. “I am as well. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”

            “Stay back!” Velania threw a fireball at Meredith, but it just disappeared on contact. She tried again, this time with ice. Didn’t work. Meredith started walking closer, slowly, steadily. Velania kept going, but nothing worked. She tried setting Meredith’s skirt on fire. It wouldn’t ignite. Froze the floor. Meredith didn’t falter. Whipped cords of lightning at her. They passed right through the Templar. Velania even tried force magic and barriers to keep her away, but to no avail.

            Meredith kept coming, coming with her hand outstretched and her face smiling, coming until she could almost touch the mage.

            Velania, with shaking hands, tried one last attempt, a stonefist.

            It worked.

            Meredith shot back, through the doorway, to the wall, colliding with a sickening crack.

            Despite the obviously broken stone behind her, Meredith merely stared at Velania, mouth agape.

            The mage, after a moment of hesitation, saw her chance and she took it. She scrambled out of the room and booked it down the hall. Maker’s breath, why was each turn a dead end?

            Armored footsteps started up behind her.

            Maker, she prayed, don’t let them do this.

            But nothing happened.

            Nothing smote her pursuers, nothing lifted her out of the tower, nothing.

            The hallway she was in continued onward, bending some 100 yards along the way. She ran on, hoping it’d come out to the entrance hall. She rounded the corner, and…

            Dead end.

            She stopped for a mere moment to pivot, and metal-clad hands grabbed her arms. She struggled, kicking and hitting nothing. She felt a grip loosen, and she barely made it a foot back down the hall before she was being held again. Farther away, the First Enchanter was exiting a room, locking it behind him.

            “Orsino!” She called to him. “Help me!”

            He turned his head and looked at her calmly, as if she wasn’t fighting the most feared fate to befall a mage, as if she wasn’t screaming at him, as if her heart wasn’t racing and her veins weren’t turning cold. He blinked, then smiled sadly and started to walk away without looking back.

            “ORSINO!” She cried. “PLEASE, ORSINO! DON’T LET THEM DO THIS! I’M BEGGING YOU!”

            A brand was being raised to her forehead.

            “ORSINO!” She attempted to worm away, anything, but she was helpless, and the brand made contact with her skin. Everything went cold, and she was thrown into darkness.

            Velania woke up screaming and covered in a cold sweat. It took her a moment to remember that she wasn’t in Kirkwall anymore, hadn’t been in years. Breathe, she told herself, breathe.

            Specks of dust floated in the morning sunlight that illuminated the opening of her cliff-side cave. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Her hands, when she lifted them, were trembling. She snapped her fingers, and a flame erupted from the top of her thumb. A heavy sigh of relief rushed out of her, and she laid back down in her bedroll.

She was about to fall into what would probably be a restless sleep when there was a commotion outside.

Rising with an irritated grunt, she rubbed the sleepiness from her face and went to the cave’s entrance.

Chapter Text

Raising a hand to block out the sun until her eyes adjusted, Velania picked her way along the cliffside footpaths and followed the clamor of metal and dragon roars. To the north, she saw her friendly neighborhood Fereldan Frostback fighting with some invaders. Sunlight glinted off of armor, and Velania figured it’d be good to see if she could take it before the dragon ate the gear’s owner. Who knew, maybe they even had some half-decent food or coin. However, as Velania got closer, she saw blue shards of ice being thrown up amid the dragon’s claws.

That’s a mage!

She broke out in a run, eventually reaching an outcropping from which she could more clearly see the battle. There was the mage, who was an elf with a very surprising lack of hair despite his seemingly youthful age (the half-asleep part of Velania’s mind thought of his head as an egg, and she couldn’t make the association undo itself), as well as three more figures, a brownish-blonde dwarf and a platinum blonde elf, both archers with shoulder-length hair, and a dark-haired human woman who, based off of the shield and aggressive yelling, was probably the warrior of the group. It was a strange crew if Velania had ever seen one, but still, she wasn’t about to let one of her mage brethren die just because of unusual company.

She spent too much time focusing on evaluating the fighters instead of watching the dragon. The behemoth of a reptile drew back its head, an orange glow in its chest. Velania had seen it before; she knew what it meant. Mierda!

Her arms moved before her brain did. Quick, a hand moving from her opposite shoulder out, flinging the Veil outward, toward the group, a blue glow beneath their feet. Just as flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, the barrier stabilized into something she could strengthen, but it took a plethora of mana to maintain. She gasped when the fire made contact, burning so hot that she could feel the heat from her perch 50 feet away. The four fighters were surrounded by the wave of orange and red and yellow and blue, blocked from her view, but, hey, she didn’t smell burning flesh, and her barrier seemed to be holding, so there was hope.

The dragon sustained its hot assault for all of a minute (yes, she did count), and the effort of keeping up the barrier forced Velania to her knees. In that minute, she considered how she wished she had had time to make her usual layers of five barriers, but, sadly, time never really seemed to care, and a single stronger, but more mana-consuming, barrier was all she could throw up in a split second.

When the fire stopped, Velania felt her body shudder with relief. The group was alive and well, if not a little thrown off, but that was a worry for a later minute. After all, there was still a huge Frostback to drive off.

The dragon itself looked rather confused, tilting its head to look at these puny creatures at its feet. How did they survive its mighty blaze? Was it some witchcraft? Would that affect the taste of their flesh, the crunch of their bones? Blue circles formed under its feet during its moment of contemplation, and the sudden cold encasing its claws was startling. Yellow wings unfolded, and it hopped backwards. More blue circles formed on its chest and legs, making the creature very uncomfortable indeed. The cold seeped into its bones, made its toes start to feel numb--No, it did not like this at all. This dragon could just devour some rams for its breakfast, thank you very much. These things would make it sick with their scales anyway.

And with little effort, the Frostback took off from the ground and sailed farther to the north, and Velania was free to release all the ice glyphs she had made. She sat back on her heels, threw her head back and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was too early for this level of exertion.

VELANIA WHAT WAS THAT?! Her Voice demanded. He got a little shock every time she cast a spell, and it was proportional to how much mana she was using, or so she had been told. He didn’t wait for her to answer, instead continuing to panic. WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR AGREEMENT FOR YOU TO WARN ME BEFORE DOING STUFF LIKE THAT? THAT WAS SO…BIG! You know, Velania was pretty sure her head wasn’t hollow, but her Voice’s shouting made everything hurt with its echoes. She felt herself wince, and her hand raised up to hold her aching head.

Another voice, softer, but more honeyed, got in her head. That was big, indeed. Think of the power we could have together, Velania. Let me in. I can help. We can show all the fools of the world that you are something to be shown off and praised. Quick shocks of energy started in Velania’s chest, spreading outwards into her bloodstream. It created a tension throughout her body, made her tremble. She tightly clutched her free hand to where the source seemed to be.

An additional purring voice joined the first. We know you’re still angry, Velania. They hurt you, they all did, even your Voice. Let me in, and we can make them pay. This voice also had an accompanying sensation, but this one felt like fire, heat filling the mage’s head. Smoke seemed to appear behind her eyes, blinding her to the world outside.

One more entity wanted in. Velania, you must be so tired. Wouldn’t it be nice to just…forget about it all? I can show you how. You just have to say yes, and then you can rest. This one brought a cold air with it, a slowness in Velania’s thinking, an invisible claw prying her mouth open in a yawn and making her eyelids heavy.

The amalgamation of VELANIA ARE YOU LISTENING? SAY SOMETHING! And let me in—no, let me in—no, ME, became a huge overwhelming wave of velaniavelaniavelaniaVelaniaVelaniaVELANIAVELANIA PAY ATTENTION TO ME! She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see or hear anything going on around her.

ALL OF YOU--

--“SHUT UP!” She screamed, both mentally and aloud.

There was a moment of silence, and then her Voice began again. Velania? Are you alright?

NO, I’M FUCKING NOT, AND YOU YELLING AT ME WHEN THREE DEMONS ARE GANGING UP ON ME DOES NOT HELP ME EITHER, SO SHUT IT, YOU FUCKING WALNUT!

…Did you just call me a walnut?

YOU BET YOUR USELESS TEMPLAR ASS I DID, AND I’LL CALL YOU MORE THAN THAT IF YOU DON’T HUSH!

I’m sorry, I just-

¡SILENCIO, PENDEJO! ¡YO ESPERO QUE TE FOLLE UN PEZ!

The demons started up their prattle again, but the moment of peace let Velania get her bearings. They were met by one wall after another, her mind fortified with focuses on brick walls and combination locks. She built up defenses quicker than they could scratch at them until she had a labyrinth in her head and they were forced to give up.

The slow retreat of the demons, combined with the burn of mana loss, left Velania sapped of all her strength, but the world was coming back into focus. She was on all fours, staring at the ground. There was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and her tongue stung. Her hands were clawing at the ground, dirt buried in her fingernails, and she could feel herself swaying with every puff of wind that hit her sides. The air still smelled like dragonfire and dirt. Birds whistled in the surrounding trees, hawks screeched, and in the distance the faint roar of the Frostback could be heard. There was…something…nearby as well, but Velania’s mind didn’t center in on it. She didn’t care. She was conscious. She was alive. She wasn’t possessed.

She tried to lean back, to stand up, but upon finding her footing for a mere moment, the fatigue turned out to be too much. The world lurched toward her as her legs turned to jelly. Two…things caught her, and darkness enveloped her.

Chapter Text

The next time Velania opened her eyes, it was only for a moment. Everything hurt, from her head to her toes. She heard voices, but nothing was discernible, instead sounding distant and garbled, like she was underwater. There was an orange glow somewhere, like her magefire, and then she was curling up on her side and falling asleep again.

Later, she was roused by what she guessed was a firm hand lifting her head up momentarily, forcing a little bit of water and a bitter-tasting potion through her lips. Elfroot, her mind registered through the haze.

“Indeed,” murmured a calm voice. “There’s also a small bit of sleeping draught so that you can rest for a while longer.” Velania felt her throat make a rumble of acknowledgement, and then more black came.

After maybe two or three near-awake occurrences, the mage found herself able to move and think without hindrance. However, she had a couple realizations, and none of them made her want to get up immediately.

One: She wasn’t where she had collapsed. Instead, she was looking up at her cozy cave’s stone ceiling, and her bedroll was beneath her. She would have thought she had been having a really weird dream, but the aches and pains in her muscles were real enough. So, someone had moved her. Other people meant bad things for apostates in Templar-ridden war zones.

Two: There were indeed shadows of firelight flickering on the walls and ceiling, and it wasn’t Velania’s fire. Fire also meant other people.

Three: She was in the back of her cave, so the other people must be near the entrance. She was trapped, wounded, and probably outnumbered. If they had any Templars, then ‘defenseless’ is another word to be thrown in there.

This was shaping up to be just a fantastic day. Spectacular, even. What more could an apostate want? Peace and quiet? The ability to just live and let live? Of course not! Never! Obviously the only option is to be hunted and cornered and poked and prodded like a wild animal! Totally!

¿El Creador, por qué?

She closed her eyes, partly in exasperation, partly so she could fake sleeping until she thought of something. First things first, she needed to know what time it was.

Hey, she said to her Voice, how long has it been since we last sp-

You’re alive! You’ve been silent-

No shit, I’m alive! It takes more than that to-

I thought you were dead-

Sorry to disappoint you and interrupt whatever party you were probably throwing to celebrate, but, listen, I need to know-

Can you stop interrupting me?

You interrupted me first!

Velania heard something like a sigh from his end, and she could imagine that, whatever he looked like, he had his fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose. He said, exasperated, You are such a headache.

Well, I learned from the best, she spat back. Now, listen up: I fell unconscious, and I need to know how long I was out.

Can you not just look outside yourself?

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Can you just answer the question?

Fine….It’s probably been ten hours. It’s a little after dark.

It’s already nighttime?!

Yes. Now, do you need anything else at this moment?

Outside of Velania’s head, a deep voice said, “Seeker, come and have some dinner. The dragon probably won’t come back tonight.”

The word ‘Seeker’ bounced around Velania’s head a couple times, taking some time to register, and when it did, her blood ran cold. Oh no. Oh nonononono. Can we not deal with a super-Templar? Let’s not. Let’s not and say we did.

Meanwhile, her Voice was still waiting on an answer. She sassed, Well, I need several things, primarily a solid chance of getting away from this Seeker with my magic and my life, but you can’t work miracles.

A pause. You’re near a Seeker?

Yep, and I’m pretty sure they’re blocking my only way out. Looks like all your prayers will finally be answered. Sorry you didn’t get to make me Tranquil or kill me or whatever yourself. I’m sure the Maker will give you peace and quiet for the rest of your miserable little life to compensate for putting up the horrors of having a mage Voice. Now, I need to think, soooo bye!

She could hear the eyeroll. Stop being so melodramatic and calm down. Is this Seeker alone?

He wasn’t getting an answer.

Velania, don’t you go silent.  

She was going silent.

Are you really doing this?

She was.

Fine, don’t get my help, you absolute child.

If she could have, she would have stuck her tongue out at him. Unfortunately, the Voice Channel, as she called it, only allowed for words and inflection, meaning images were impossible. She turned her attention to the matter at hand.

Soft footsteps, almost inaudible, were approaching. She tensed up, curled up tightly on her side, and raised her balled fists in front of her face like a sleeping kid. There was a bunch of quiet shifting against the dirt beside her head, and then gentle hands were trying to uncover her face. Velania scrunched up her neck and locked her arms, hoping that it could pass as an unconscious act. The hands rescinded, only to return with a small sigh from their owner. One hand firmly placed itself on her forehead, and Velania stopped breathing. The cool, calming sensation of a minor rejuvenation spell washed over her, and she relaxed enough to breathe. It was a mage. She could do mages. Better yet, a Seeker that could tolerate the presence of magic? Yes, please.

“She will rise soon,” the mage called to his companions, his clear voice marking him as the same person that gave her the elfroot potion and water. Velania heard him rise and move away.

“Good,” replied a female voice. “We must move on soon. She would probably be fine if we let her be.” It was dawning on Velania that the group she had saved from the dragon must be the same group of people now. So, the mage was the egghead (she really had to stop that association), and this woman, as the only human and warrior, had to be the Seeker. Well, that, and she had that whole stone-cold tone to her voice, just like Velania imagined all Seekers did.

The next voice was male and completely new. “Cassandra, we can’t just leave her in this state!” It was almost silvery, with a little bit of a lilt, and the man’s accent was something to be wondered at, sounding like a mix of Fereldan and Marcher. If Velania didn’t know better, she’d also have thought that she had heard it before. “She’s obviously hurt, and she did save our lives. We owe her the decency to make sure she’s okay, at least. And, I kind of know her…” he said, trailing off at the end sheepishly. That gave her pause. Okay, that explains the familiarity, but who were you?

Luckily, the other woman was on the same path of thought. “You do? How so?”

“Well, she spent a couple weeks with my clan about, what, a year and a half, two years ago? Her name was…I don’t remember all of it, but it started with a V. I mainly just remember the hart that accompanied her. His name was Sachi, and he had the most beautiful coat, with shiny chestnut fur and little tan stripes near his hindquarters, and these big amber eyes, and he really liked apples! Oh, and his favorites were the ones we traded with some humans near Crestwood, and-“

“We get it, Birch. It was pretty,” amusedly said the deep voice from earlier. Velania pegged him as the dwarf. “Do you remember anything else?”

While the (Dalish elf, she presumed) thought, Velania was running her head through the male archers she had met in the Liv—no, Lel—L-something Clan. Not him, he was a jerk…Not him either, I only saw him once or twice… And she suddenly remembered.

Sweet Maker, it’s Apple Boy.  

That wasn’t his real name, of course, that started with Fel-something, but she messed up his name every time he came to feed Sachi an apple. And that was a lot. (He also practically worshipped the hart, and the giant brat ate up every bit of love, attention, and apple slices that he received.) In any case, she remembered him now: pale skin and hair, bright amber eyes, and rather lanky, even for an elf. He was awkward and rather shy until you got him talking about something he cared about, and then he was off to the races! For instance, Velania once asked him about the Dalish pantheon, expecting a small explanation of what deity controlled what part of life, and instead she got a two-hour-long speech about the Creators and their domains and different vallaslin markings, and who Fen’Harel was and why he doesn’t have his own vallaslin, and—You know what, for the sake of time, let’s just say that it was a lot. The young man could talk, and Velania hadn’t had the heart to tell him to stop. (She still remembered almost every bit about who was who, though, something she was proud of, given how long it had been, but let’s stop digressing.)

Apparently having remembered something, Apple Boy said, “She wanted to stay longer, I think. She liked the outdoors, the openness of it, and she liked us, and we liked her. Well, at least I did.” He sighed before continuing, “But one day a group of Templars came, and they threatened to attack the Clan if we didn’t hand her over. So, before the elders could even discuss it, she packed up her things and ran.”

The Seeker interjected, “Did you ever find out why she is an apostate?”

“I would imagine most apostates became such because they were dissatisfied with or endangered by Circles?”

“You know what I mean: is she a blood mage?”

Excuse you, Seeker! Velania irritatedly thought, holding back a huff. She heard the crackle of the fire get louder, and someone gasped.

“Solas, what did you do?!” It was the Seeker. Ooooh, look who’s scared now. Maybe you shouldn’t make assumptions about people. Huh.

“I did nothing,” the egghead-mage responded, sounding very much like he was biting back amusement, “but I believe she did not appreciate the question.”

“Oh, she did once make the Clan’s fire spout sparks when she laughed really hard,” added Apple Boy.

The Seeker was persistent. “You didn’t answer the question, Herald.”

Herald? Velania made a mental note of that.

“Not to my knowledge, no, she is not a blood mage. She has plenty of mana on her own.”

Slowly, and as stealthily as she could, Velania opened her eyes and shifted her body enough that she could see past her feet, to the fire and the people sitting around it, and then to the open air outside. On the cave floor between her and the people, Velania’s personal belongings were strewn about, a testament to the two years she had dwelt there. There were notes on magic all over the place, stuck to the walls, put in organized piles on the floor, put in less organized mounds in the corners, and she had a couple bags of supplies here or there. The image didn’t sit with her well. It felt too much like the Circle, to have strangers so close to her space.  Speaking of said strangers, she could see the backs of the Seeker and Apple Boy, and through the space between those two she could see the faces of the dwarf and the mage.

Her gaze fell upon a crossbow near the dwarf’s feet, and her mind brought forth a memory:

Small waves crashing on rocks, the smell of salt swirling with the wind. Metal boots clanging on wood, chasing her. Shouting, yelling, for her to come back that instant. Her yelling back at them to sod off. The coolness of the water on her hand, energy surging through it to propel her rowboat over the waves. Passing the last rock before the open Waking Sea. A ka-thunk in front of her face, and a bag swinging in the wind. Taking the bag down, looking inside. Food! She hadn’t thought about food! Looking back at the docks, catching a glimpse of a wooden crossbow on the back of a stout, retreating shadow.

The dwarf glanced over to Velania, and their eyes made contact before he blinked and smiled broadly. In a warm tone, he called, “And so she wakes up! Welcome back to the land of the living!”

At his words, Apple Boy and the Seeker turned around. Aside from a couple little signs of aging, the elf looked the same, his amber eyes and Juno’s dark red vallaslin standing out from his pale skin. He gave a smile, small but sincere. The Seeker, on the other hand, made Velania want to become invisible. She had several scars on her face, and her cheekbones and steely gaze were sharper than any blade Velania had seen. Her expression was not unlike that of a resting bitch-face, to put it nicely.

The dwarf started to stand up and approach Velania. She shot up into a sitting position, and stars exploded behind her eyes. Ohhhh that was a mistake, she quickly thought, now nursing a killer headache. That was not a good idea. I regret everything. It was a good thing that Velania was near a wall that she could lean on for support, or she might have passed out again. She measured her breaths carefully, and the world stabilized again. Footsteps, carefully maneuvering the mess on the floor, got closer, then stopped. She looked up just as a hand was being extended in front of her face.

“Varric Tethras,” the dwarf introduced himself good-naturedly. “Writer, rogue, and occasionally unwelcome tag-a-long. Pleased to meet you.”

She squinted at him. Slowly and tentatively, she reached out and shook his hand. “You know Hawke.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do…Didn’t I help you get out of Kirkwall?”

“You technically just shot a bag of food at me, but it was still greatly appreciated.”

He huffed in amusement and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the rapid clip-clap of hooves. Velania got to her feet just in time to see Sachi the hart himself enter the cave. He was panting hard, barely paying the strangers any mind as he darted to Velania’s side.

He was also dripping blood.

She reached out to him in a second, the best healing spells she could manage already working. His injuries consisted of a large slash along one side and arrows sticking out of the other, but he was alive. Yes, for the moment! He won’t be if you don’t focus!

“There are bandages in there,” she directed Varric, pointing to her nearest bag of supplies. The dwarf moved quickly and passed her gauze and healing salves within seconds. Sachi, being a good boy for once, stayed still while she worked. The cut was deeper than she initially thought, and she was starting to panic. The red just kept flowing; she didn’t know enough healing magic to stop it. She didn’t think it was important when she had the chance to learn. She should have at least tried it, should have learned, should have-

Varric seemed to understand her shaking hands and frantic eyes. “Chuckles, come help,” he called urgently. He switched places with the elf mage, who had gotten up with the others when Sachi entered and were now standing alert at the cave entrance. The elf mage’s steady hands joined hers, and he was able to do what Velania could not.

She moved on to the arrows. After many grimaces and about ten minutes of digging arrow-heads out of muscle, Velania removed her blood-stained hands and began pressing gauze to the holes. The hart weakly lowed at the pressure, but otherwise gave no protestation.

“Yo sé, Sachi, yo sé,” she soothed. The other mage looked at her briefly, probably wondering what the Void she was saying, but didn’t say anything. She caught his eye and quietly asked, “How are you doing over there?”

“I am making progress, even if I am starting to expend most of my energy,” came the cool response.

Velania gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have any lyrium potions. I don’t use them.”

His blue eyes blinked in surprise. “You don’t?”

“No, they make me sick to my stomach.”

“Ah. I see.”

Apple Boy ask-called, “Miss, do you have any idea who would do that?”

Do you really need to ask? “Probably some hungry Templars that can’t tell the difference between a hart and a ram. Maker knows they’re stupid enough.”

“Thank you very much, miss.”

Way to go, Velania. “Sorry, Seeker. Not what I meant.” Maybe just a little bit.

“More importantly, would they come after him?” Apple Boy asked. “I mean, now that he’s here with us.”

“They shouldn’t,” the Seeker responded. “Not with me here.”

Velania flashed her eyes at her and irritatedly shook her head. “That’s not how they work, Seeker. Anyone that they see as being mage sympathizers is killed. They’re just that radical.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Because I do! If it wasn’t for the dragon, this area would be a warzone, too, and even then, there’s at least one group that tries to come up every month, and it’s only gotten worse since that damned thing in the sky happened.” The campfire flared up again at her indignation.

The Seeker looked back, shocked at her outburst. “I-I apologize for offending you. The Inquisition has only been here for a handful of weeks, but we wish to bring peace to the region.”

Velania had never heard of that organization. “The Inqui-what now? You know what, whatever, I’m digressing,” she said, waving a hand dismissively and calming the flames to a normal level. She reined in her emotions and continued, “The point is, yes, you will give the Templars pause, but once they know mages are here, they will not make the distinction between you and me. So, unless you’re planning to kill me and Egghead here,” she pointed at the other mage, “to gain their allegiance, which would be a real shame since you’re the first Templar I’ve met in a long while that didn’t froth at the mouth upon seeing magic, I would strongly advise that you keep your sword out.”

As if talking about them summoned them, an arrow whistled past Velania’s head and hit the wall with a clatter. She put a barrier on herself and Sachi and put a hand at the base of his neck to steady him. A group of six Templar warriors jumped out from the shadows, two by two, and made a shield-wall. The Seeker met them head-on and knocked one off the cliffside path. Varric and Apple Boy disappeared, only to reappear for a second to shoot at the chinks in the Templars’ armor.

There wasn’t enough room for the two mages to get any hits in, but they didn’t need to. Another arrow sailed out of the shadows, and Velania retaliated with a fireball. The moment of light revealed three archers on the ground a distance away from the base of the cliffs. The fireball hit the ground and exploded, lighting one of the archers on fire. He panicked and screamed, which made his companions panic, and a triplet of projectiles were hurled toward the mages and hart. Velania made another barrier, slightly leaning on Sachi to compensate for her still-present dizziness. A pulse from the elf made the barrier stronger, strong enough that the arrow that hit Velania in her chest felt more like a dull poke than, you know, something that was supposed to shish-kabob her. On the ground, the one archer fell over and succumbed to its burns, and the elf’s ice erupted from the earth and impaled the others.

Apple Boy and Co. were faring well, having only two enemies left. They had been keeping the warriors off of the mages, but the firefight drew attention. One Templar got past the Seeker and charged for Velania. Since the campfire was still lit, Velania took it, twisted it into a rope of flames, and wrapped it around the Templar’s midsection, and then she yanked on the Veil. Hard. There was a sickening crunch as armor was shoved into bone, and the warrior fell at her feet. The other and last warrior hit the ground with a thud, and the skirmish was over.

Aaaand now there’s blood all over that note pile. Great.

“Alright, I’ve decided,” Apple Boy panted, bringing her attention away from the gory surroundings. He was staring thoughtfully at Velania and gave a little nod. “How would you like to join the Inquisition?”

Chapter Text

Nameless Interviewer: Hello! Nice to meet you!

            Velania: Likewise! *smiles* I’m ready to start whenever you are!

Okay! What’s your full name?

            I’m Velania, just Velania. In the Circles I was Enchanter Velania, but I like Velania better.

You have an interesting accent. Where are you from?

            Oh, I’m Antivan, but my accent is all over the place. I transferred to Kinloch Hold when I was 13, and then I went to Kirkwall a year or two after the Fifth Blight. Now I’m back in Ferelden, but I don’t talk to people enough to have a really Fereldan accent, with all those flat vowels. It’s just a mess.

So, I, the interviewer, am apparently blind for some reason (thank you for that, author). Tell me what you look like.

            Well, I’m Antivan, so I’m pretty tan, and I’ve got long dark hair and brown eyes. I’ve got a beauty mark under the end of my right eye and a scar on the inside of my left wrist from a fight with a bear(but more on that later). I’m kinda tall? I guess? I don’t know what you want me to say. I'm not short by any means. I’m a mage that’s lived almost exclusively outdoors for a couple years, so I have some muscle, but I’m still pretty small. Fereldan winters are harsh.

What’s your favorite element?

            Oh, fire, by far. Ice comes in handy, too, but I kind of like destruction, so, you know. *shrugs* And fire is nice because Fereldan is really cold. Like, colder than Meredith's bitchy heart.

Tell me a bit about yourself. What are you like?

            Uh, well, I’m an apostate, loud and proud. I’m not going back to a Circle, not now, not ever. My Voice says I’m impulsive and brash, but I like to call it ‘acting on my instincts’.

I see. And does your Voice say anything else about you?

            HA! Of course he does, the hard-ass. Aside from being impulsive, I apparently am *uses finger quotes* ‘disrespectful’ and ‘overdramatic’ and ‘have absolutely no regard for authority’.

Do you have no regard for authority?

            *has flashbacks to calling Meredith a bitch to her face and flipping off Ser Cullen* Mayyyybe *smiles cheekily*

Alright…If you could be anything, what would it be?

            Free, without a doubt. Or did you mean like an occupation? I’d want to experiment with magic, dabble in some alchemy. I already do those things; it’d be nice if I could get paid, too. Astronomy is cool, too.

Wait, you’re an apostate. Are you not already free?

            *smiles sadly* Meredith may be physically dead, but she lives on in the memories of those she terrorized and those that still follow her mentality. I doubt I’ll ever be free of Kirkwall entirely. I’ll save you the rest of the speech for another time.

Understandable, I suppose. And are you enjoying your apostatehood?

            Aside from the constant hunting and moving, it’s been…enriching, let’s say. I think a lot more on my feet than I did before, and I’m a lot more comfortable outside. It gets a little lonely, I suppose, but I have Sachi, and he’s quite the character. Speaking of which, where is the giant brat?

Uh, I thought you knew where he was…

            I thought you knew…Maker's breath, we are doomed.

            *Sniffing noises as Sachi hunts for apples and looks around. He bends down, his nose close to the earth so he can smell them better, and he prowls around like a jungle cat.*

            Sachi! Come back!

            *Sachi the Hart will not come back. He must find the apples! Does Velania have apples?*

            Sachiiii, that tickles, stop!

            *Velania does not have apples. The quest continues. Sachi searches the wonderful and beloved readers of this terrible fanfic for apples, but they do not have any. What a travesty! (He does get lots of pets and scratchies, though, so it’s not a complete waste of time)*

            Really though, come back!

            *Sachi returns to Velania momentarily, before he picks up the scent of his beloved, treasured, worshipped apples! They are in the direction of the interviewer. Sachi comes very close, sniffs all around, his greedy mouth already drooling (maybe on the interviewer, maybe not). These words smell like apples! Can he eat them?

            No, Sach, we still have ques-

            *crunch noises as Sachi eats the words. They do not taste like apples. This was a mistake.*

Chapter Text

One body-burning, a couple hours, and a full meal later, Velania had gotten an extensive explanation of everything she had missed while she was in the backwoods of Ferelden. At the moment, they were all seated around the campfire, finishing the last bits of ram. Velania sat a few feet farther away from the rest of them, partially because she still wasn’t sure about the Seeker, but also partially because her brat of an animal companion had decided that her lap was the perfect place to lay his giant head, and a full-grown hart really needs its own space when it’s asleep.

            “So, let me make sure I have this all right,” Velania slowly pondered, taking her braid out and starting to remake it. “The hole in the sky is a hole in the Veil, and you have a bit of it in your hand, which gives you the ability to close the rifts, and because of that, people call you, the Dalish elf, the Herald of Andraste, and you somehow went physically into the Fade, and the Seeker reformed the Inquisition, which is going to try to close the Breach with the help of either the rebel mages or the Templars, and you want me, the apostate that you barely know, to help you.” She paused, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Do you hear how crazy all of that sounds?”

            Apple Boy snorted good-naturedly and nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m Fellassan Lavellan, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you remembered me,” he said, extending a hand.

            She took it, gave a small smile, and replied, “I’m afraid I had forgotten your name, but I remembered your face. I’m sure Sachi here will, too.” She scratched between said hart’s ears and added, “Just give him a while to rest, and I’m sure he’ll be eating a-p-p-l-e-s from your hands again in no time.”

            The Seeker raised an eyebrow. “Why did you feel the need to spell out ‘apples’?”

            Oh no. She said it.

            Velania threw her chest back just before Sachi’s giant antlers almost decapitated her as they shot into the air. He started sniffing wildly, and once he had established that no apples were in sight for his consumption, the fuzzball put his head back down and was snoring within seconds. Velania exhaled and leaned back against the wall. “That is why that word shouldn’t be said aloud.”

            The Seeker still wasn’t impressed. “So I see. If we are doing introductions, the elven apostate is named Solas, you seem to already know Varric, and I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine.”

            That final name rang a bell. The Seeker most likely to take action immediately, Cassandra Pentaghast was at the top of a long list of Chantry officials that Velania had written to after leaving Kirkwall. Velania’s goal had been to use documents borrowed(maybe stolen, but shhhh, it doesn't matter) from Kirkwall’s vaults to prove that Meredith had done the illegal act of making a mage Tranquil post-Harrowing, but she had never heard anything back, and as far as she knew, nothing was done about Meredith. Then Anders happened, and the world as everyone knew it went to the Void.

            Had this Seeker liked her arguments? Laughed at them? El Creador, did she even read them, or did she disregard them entirely, like Grand Cleric Elthina had?

            While Velania was off in her own head, the other woman was looking at her expectantly, and Velania abruptly realized she must have been asked a question. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?”

            “I asked you what your name was.”

            “Oh-uh-Velania.” The words came out of her off-put brain before she could stop them, and as the Seeker and Solas snapped to attention and stared at her, she deeply wished she could take it back. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” As a sense of uneasiness grew, she subconsciously reached for the fire, weaving a few tendrils into a thicker cord of flames. Her mana started to protectively gather around her and Sachi. “If you’re here to try and make me Tranquil, you can get lost or die.”

            “Whoa,” Varric interjected. “Not here to do that, or hurt you, or anything negative. We are here on completely unrelated business. The Seeker has merely been wanting to meet the person that told her to, what was it, ‘get her colleagues together and do their fucking jobs and police the Templars’?”

            Heavens, I did do that, didn’t I? I swore at a woman capable of setting my blood on fire. Velania internally screamed and wondered why the Maker hadn’t descended to her and whacked her with a giant ‘DON’T’ sign.

            But the Seeker popped a completely unrelated question. “Is it true that you set 13 angry geese loose in the Kirkwall Circle during a Satinalia Chantry service?”

            Velania tried really hard to keep a straight face; it was 100% true. What’s more, she had fed each of the birds their weight in laxatives shortly before she unleashed them. The room became filled with feathers, honking, and horrid smells, and Velania will never forget how one bird in particular was determined to sit on Meredith’s head. It was pandemonium, glorious pandemonium, and Her Blessed Bitchiness was so mad that she didn’t think to make the mages clean it up.

            The Antivan’s stomach shook with suppressed laughter at the memory, and she pursed her curving lips as she quietly replied, “I don’t believe the culprit’s identity ever came to light.”

            Seeker Pentaghast leaned forward slightly. “What about all the scissors and letter openers that went missing?”

            “Blame was never placed.”

            “And the Ice Jester incidents?”

            “All still unsolved, unless you know something I don’t.” Velania cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. She fell into old baiting habits all too well. “I would hope that whoever’s been talking about me has at least some kind of accusation they can prove. It’d be a shame if you’d placed your faith in a liar.”

            “Commander Cullen is not a-“

            Commander Cul—oh no.

            Velania felt her whole body go cold with dread and then relax into a steely seething. She tapped her fingers on her leg repeatedly, each time adding another layer of barriers. Sachi woke up, and when she didn’t stroke his head in reassurance, he lifted his head and zeroed in on the Seeker, snorting.

            Varric noticed. “Curly isn’t the same as he was in Kirkwall. He’s a lot less crazy now, he won’t hurt yo-“

            “I don’t care.” Velania and Sachi stood. With a twist of her hands, a staff made of ice appeared in her left hand, and she spun it once before slamming it into the ground. A ball of fire erupted from the top and hovered at that end. She curtly commanded, “Get out of my cave.”

            Apple Boy started, “He really isn’t-“

            “I. Don’t. Care. I want no part in anything involving that…person.”

            “But-“

            “Now, you are going to leave, or I will make you, and if Noodle Hair has told you anything about me, then you should know that’s a bad idea.” And with that, she stared each of them down in turn until they dragged themselves into the night.

            As soon as she couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, she created a thick wall of black ice around the front of her cave. It was thick and black enough that no one would be able to see through it, just how she liked it. Beside her, Sachi huffed.

            “I know, mi amigo, you wanted to nap and get the elf to give you love and apples. I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

            “Brauuuuuuu.”

            “I don’t want to leave, either, but I can’t risk them going back and telling him where I am. Maybe we could go farther north, like Starkhaven or Nevarra, where it’d be warmer during the winter. Now, can you pass me the clothes bag? I’d rather not be covered in blood.”

            Twenty minutes later, Velania had all of her things packed up and sitting in a pile of several bags near the ice wall. The bloodied clothes from before were somewhere in there, and now she was wearing a warm, brown long-sleeved tunic, black cotton pants, and a pair of worn leather boots. She checked, double-checked, and triple-checked that she had everything, from her extra clothes to her potions recipes to her notes on how to make a good glamour.

            It was strange to see her cave so barren. Two whole years there, and all it took was twenty minutes for it to seem like she was never even there. She could still imagine their first day of residence like it was yesterday: they had run from the latest group of Templars to try to kill her, and they ducked into the first cave they could find that night. Making light was too risky, so they sat in the darkness, praying that there weren’t any bears hiding farther in. Velania felt so sure that the Templars would find them, but they lived to see the dawn. When they ventured out the next morning, they found bones and Templar armor littering the ground near the stream, and not long after that they saw the Fereldan Frostback flying overhead. The dragon landed in front of them, and it was only through a lot of frantic barriers that the pair survived the creature’s stream of fire. When the flames ended and the two were no worse for wear, the dragon looked at them, and though she would later chalk it up to near-death experience delusions, Velania was sure it had nodded at them before it took off into the sky. It felt like a sign that they could stay, and so they had.

            Until now, anyways.

            With a last sad glance around the walls, Velania swung the bags up over her back, put out the fire, and lowered the ice wall. Keeping a hand on Sachi’s shoulder, they started walking up the path to the top of the cliffs.

            There was a curved rock outcropping about ten minutes’ walk from the edge, hugging a tall rock face, and it was there that the pair walked to. The moon shone brightly and gave them the minimal light they needed to walk the frequently travelled path.

            Why was the path frequently travelled, you ask? Well, situated between the outcropping and the rock face, there was a space about the size of her cave. One had to squeeze through a crevice and follow it before turning right through another crevice in order to get to the clearing, and with high walls on all sides, if you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t be able to see it from the outside.  Having hidden from many a Templar in it, Velania had grown to like the space and, in time, made it her own.

            And as she and Sachi shuffled through the narrow cracks, she lamented how this would be the last time she’d be doing this.

            Why not just kill these intruders? Asked a demon. Velania didn’t know which one was speaking, but it rarely mattered. She could feel the others listening and agreeing. It wouldn’t be your first kill, and we all know it won’t be the last.

            Because, idiot, if that elf can close the rifts, then the world needs him, she replied. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. I can see through you; I know you just want him dead so more of you can run around.

            The demon didn’t respond, nor did the others. She sighed, alright, guess they’re going to wait until I’m asleep to mess with me tonight.

            The human and the hart entered the clearing, and Sachi darted to one side, where a pile of paints and paintbrushes sat. Velania turned away to put all her bags down, and when she turned back, Sachi was holding a brush in her face. A little ball of warmth flared up in her chest, and she snorted, smiling fondly at him as she took the brush from him.

            “I was just thinking the same thing, Sach. Thank you.”

            “Brauu!” he replied, nuzzling her face. She made a noise of protest as he got slobber all over her, and even though she couldn’t see him very well, she was positive that the goofball was making his best ‘I am completely and totally innocent and can do no wrong’ face. She tried to wipe the spit off with her sleeve and then wipe it on his fur, but he dodged. She tried again and was evaded. Once more; no dice.

            “Sachi,” she playfully warned, “Come take your nasty spit.”

            “Mauuuuu!” Velania was pretty sure that meant ‘Never!’

            And thus ensured a game of cat and mouse that left both parties panting and Velania smiling. In the end she backed Sachi into a corner and made her move when he tried to run past her.

            “Victory!” she gloated. “The day is min-AGH!”

            Sachi, ever a sore loser, had lightly shouldered her in the side, making her lose her balance and fall onto her back. From her new spot on the ground, the mage rolled around and laughed until she cried, and the hart, satisfied with his actions, laid down beside her.  She reached out absentmindedly and scratched between his ears, and he hummed happily.

            “Thanks again, Sachi,” she murmured. “I needed to laugh. I know it’s been a weird day.” The hart snorted his agreement, and she started to get up. “Well, I came here to paint one last thing before we leave. I may as well do it.”

            Among her paints were almost every color in the rainbow (red was hard to get this time of year), and then some blacks, greys, browns, and pinks. Velania tapped her chin, pondering what to paint tonight. She was about to give up for the moment and focus on finding wall space that wasn’t already occupied with one of her many murals, when the Breach crackled.

            A large bolt of energy snapped from it, making the sky flash bright green in a way that both terrified and thrilled her. Oooooo, she thought to herself, already considering how much green and black she had. The sudden light also lit up an empty area of rock about the size of her a little ways up the outcropping. It was perfect.

            Once she had all the necessary paints and brushes in a bag, she scaled the rocks with relative ease (she only almost-fell twice, a new record for her first try!), and when she saw the view from up there…

            El Creador.

            As terrible as it was, the Antivan had found herself becoming more and more Fereldan by the day(the horror!), and it was times like this that the feeling was almost tangible. She couldn’t help it! The land was just so free and feral and fair, where eagles screeched over mountaintops before diving beside a waterfall, only to swoop up at the last second, twisting and turning through the sky. The air was so fresh and clear and cold, cutting in the winter and whispering in the summer. It had enchanted and ensnared the apostate, body, mind, and soul, in its majesty. Green light from the Breach aside, tonight’s moonlight turned the shadows of pine trees and mountains into an all-encompassing blanket. The Fereldan Frostback’s lone shadow soared in the distance, its leathery wings’ thundering barely audible over the din of hundreds of cicadas chirping their last for the year. A gust of wind whipped through Velania’s braided hair, tearing free whatever strands of hair it could. She inhaled deeply, almost able to taste the sticky tree resin in the air. The whole environment was uncivilized, barbaric, with no rules whatsoever-

            -and Velania loved every single bit of it.

            Okay, she sighed to herself, my Voice may be right; I may be a teensy bit overdramatic.

            Remembering what she actually came up there to do, Velania tore herself away from the landscape and focused on the Breach. She put a streak of dark green paint on her face, as was customary before beginning every painting so she wouldn’t be scared of getting anything on her while painting, and then she started with a base coat of black.

            The thing about painting the Breach was, it reminded her of the Inquisition, which reminded her of Ser Cullen, and thus the normally soothing act of painting was not at all soothing. It wasn’t that she was scared of her old Knight-Captain. No, she was far past Kirkwall, and now she just wanted to get rid of all of it. The less she saw of anything that directly reminded her of Meredith, the better. She was also just really sick of zealots that were incapable of seeing reason, something that she should have considered before she ever decided to stay close to a warzone. In any case, she didn’t want to have to deal with some lecture on how she was ‘a stain on the Circles’ or ‘yet another of the Maker’s mistakes’ from Ser Noodle Hair. Not to mention, he was probably still convinced that she was a blood mage and wanted to run her through with his sword. Or make her Tranquil.

            Okay, maybe she was a little bit scared.

            But she dealt with Templars regularly, and she wasn’t quaking in her boots every time they came around. She knew their tactics by this point, while Ser Cullen probably expected her to keep up with the Circles’ expectations of flawless techniques. He had formations, she had fireballs. If it ever came down to a fight, she could probably take him one-on-one.

            Speaking of combat, of all the positions he could have, he was the bloody Commander, so he had an entire army at his disposal. Part of her wanted to ask why he was given that position, but she knew he was certainly intelligent. Andraste, she had been stuck with him through Ferelden and Kirkwall; she had seen the fervor and effort that he put into everything he did. It had just so happened that what he did often involved scaring, capturing, and/or threatening mages.

            Yes, she probably should have heard Fellassan out when he and the others tried to say Ser Cullen had changed. The group didn’t seem all that anti-mage, especially since there was a mage among them and he wasn’t in chains. No, he seemed to be treated like a person.

            Velania internally groaned. Her mind said that joining the Inquisition would be a bad idea, but her gut was curious. Saving the world from a seemingly unsolvable issue? All things considered, it felt like the kind of bullshit to be right up her alley. Joining an organization that at least appeared to think of mages in a non-degrading light? Definitely a good thing. Maybe confronting Ser Cullen and attempting to convince herself that she wouldn’t need to hide from Templars forever? She’s had worse ideas.

            As she considered it more and more, her instincts started to chant yesyesyesyesyes while her mind went nononoNOnononoNolikewhatareyouthinkingNO. There was nothing else for it.

            She’d need a second opinion.

            Her Voice had said that he was in the middle of that Breach mess when it happened, and knowing his messed-up sleep schedule, he was probably up at this lovely pre-dawn hour.

            Hey, are you awake? I need a second opinion on something.

            Velania, if this is like when you asked me if I thought that mushroom you found was safe to put in a drink-

            No, it’s not like that, I swear, and that mushroom wasn’t even that bad. I was only transparent for like two or maybe five days-

            You were transparent?  The exasperation in his voice was palpable. She could almost see his hands-on-hips stance. Maker preserve me-

            Yes, yes, I messed up, but that’s over and done with, and we are moving on! I just need to know what the Inquisition is like!

            Oh, um, well, it’s very…modest, he said, now sounding more curious than irritated. We’re based in the small pilgrimage town of Haven, and most of the people here are the ones that were left behind after the Conclave: Templars, mages, some Chantry officials. Why, are you thinking of joining?

I don’t know, probably not. I mean, our two peoples living in the same proximity? How often are the riots?  In the real world, she started on the dark green that would make up the shadow of the Breach.

Never, actually. It’s almost like we can be civil to one another.

Two people could play that sarcasm game. I’m sorry, what was that? I-I thought I heard you sassing me about being rude to the other side when I’m not even the one that decided to be a twat in the first place. Hmm.

Oh, did I say that out loud? Maybe it’s just your punishment for giving absolutely no warning whatsoever this morning.

Well, excuuuuse me, I didn’t realize we were still following that rule! Here I was worrying about my friendly neighborhood dragon, but no, I apologize, I should have said something-

Hold on, since when do you live near a dragon?!

Since two years ago. Silence. So he wasn’t actively keeping tabs on her. Good to know. Anyways, back to the Inquisition: how does it stand on our kinds?

He remained silent for a moment longer, during which Velania started on the lighter green bulk of the Breach, and then he grumbled, At the moment, I believe it wishes to make contact with the rebel mages first.

I see. And, Templar-ness aside, you disagree with this because?

More magic might make the Breach worse. Gaining the support of the Templars would allow us to be able to control it.

Velania made a face at the rock, both in response to his words and to a brushstroke that had gone too far. Um, magic would be able to control it as well. Barrier spells to confine it, some nullification spells here or there, and boom! Stable.

Yes, because you’re just an expert on both of our capabilities. Templar training and nullification spells are very similar in effect, you know.

True, but still, how would the Templars get their stuff to go up to the sky? Magic is just better for long range.

He seemed to consider it for a moment. I see your point, even if I do not like it. It’s just that there’s no proof that it would work.

She snorted. There hasn’t exactly been a precursor to ‘giant hole in the sky that pops out demons’ either. It’s possible that neither group will be able to do it, and we’ll just be fucked.

Velania, don’t start being pessimistic. I have a lot of work to do, including a couple reports due in the morning that you are keeping me from doing, and I don’t need the negativity.

Fair. So…What is the Inquisition really like? I know you said it’s small, but what else? What’s the work like?

It’s…good, he said, his voice turning softer. Definitely good.

She raised an eyebrow, even if he couldn’t see it. Good, as in objectively good, like ‘stopping the Fifth Blight’ good, or more subjective, like ‘protecting mages from themselves’ good?

Objectively. I…I like it. I think you would as well. It’s a worthwhile cause where everyone can make a real difference through a combination of different talents working together. Why, what’s the hesitation?

She flatly said, Ser Cullen.

Oh…I see. So you are not going to join because of him?

Probably not. The Breach finished, she used the edges of her pinky fingers to make the little yellow-white of the stars. But…I don’t know…I’ve met a mage that was with a group of people that know him, and since he wasn’t in chains with his mouth sown shut…I don’t know…I could try to find him and ask him to spar, and if he’s close to my level then I know Noodle Hair can tolerate someone like me existing. I’ll have to think about it some more.

Did you just call him…? Nevermind. I feel like I should scold you for trying to fight your way through things, but at least you have a plan for once. Just warn me beforehand, please? This morning you made me fall flat onto my face in front of my colleagues, and I doubt they’ll ever let it go.

Sure, as long as you tell these colleagues of yours that I want them to remember the look on your face for all of eternity. Maybe get it made into a bust and give it to you for your next birthday, that kind of thing.

Maker, you’re terrible.

She smirked at the stone. I do try. ‘Night!

Goodnight, Velania.

She felt the little pinch in the back of her mind, signifying her Voice’s closing of his end of the Channel, right as she made the last dot. She looked at the mural, seeing that it was at least somewhat well-done, and then descended from her perch.

Sachi was watching her, and once she had cleaned up her supplies and packed them away into the bags, the two went to the curve in the rock opposite the entrance. Velania didn’t bother to get out her bedroll, merely laying down on the ground, and Sachi laid himself around her protectively.

“Buenas noches, Sachi.”

“Puphh.”

And then she was out.

Seagulls cawed outside the walls of the Gallows. Bells on ships chimed and tolled as they passed, and Velania was overlooking the sea from a high-up balcony.

Why was she standing on a balcony?

“Velania!” She turned just as oak doors behind her opened, and she was suddenly being hugged by two old friends. Their clothes still held a hint of Ferelden’s more dusty tomes, and the three of them still fit together like puzzle pieces. She grinned, reveling in the familiarity of it.

“Anders! And…Karl?” But that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. “Karl, you were dead. I went to your funeral.”

Karl smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Anders brought me back. He saved me, and now we’re saving you. We’ll be together again, just us against the world! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“Yeah, but…” She wanted this, she had wished and wished for it, but the ball of wrong in her stomach just wouldn’t go away.

            “What is it?” Anders asked. “Is something the matter?” He and Karl tilted their heads in sync. That was weird.

            “Karl was dead.” She said sadly. “You can’t just bring people back from the dead, or if you can they won’t be the same. No one’s ever tried and succeeded.”

Anders grabbed her face between his hands and stared at her, as if eye contact would make her understand things the way he did. He pleaded, “Velania, please, just trust me. I found a way.” He grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the balcony railing. “But right now, we are getting you out of here. There’s an escape waiting for us below here. You just have to jump.”

“WHAT?” She tried to pull away, but he held her in a vicelike grip. “ARE YOU INSANE?”

“I know you’re scared, but trust me. We have to go, now, before—“

The doors opened again, and there was Ser Cullen towering over her, brand in hand. His unbridled loathing made her blood run cold as he glared at her, and she felt her stomach drop to the floor.

“Escaping, I see, or at the very least trying to,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere, maleficar.”

She glanced back at Anders, who had climbed onto the other side of the railing and was reaching out his hand to her. Karl had already jumped. The blonde said, “Velania, please, take my hand!”

She stared at his face, all wide eyes and worry, and his eye color changed for a split second.

            Ah, she thought to herself. Of course.

            She sighed, not even surprised when, after walking over to the edge of the balcony, she grabbed what was supposed to feel like Anders’ stubbly chin, but instead felt slimy and revolting.

            “Good try, Desire, but Anders doesn’t have purple eyes.” And then she shoved Not-Anders off of the railing and, sure enough, his form didn’t fall back, but floated backwards before turning into the purple, horned, and still nude-as-ever bitch of a demon. Velania turned to Not-Ser-Cullen and, reaching out to flick his hair, said, “And Meredith always did the Rites, not him.”

Her outstretched fingers were met with empty air, merely passing through the illusion, and then the dream shattered, leaving her and the demons’ true forms in a black void. She crossed her arms as she looked between the two of them and dryly said, “Desire and Fear working together. Interesting, considering you can’t share a vessel.”

“Velania, why didn’t you save me?” wailed a new, feminine voice behind her. She didn’t even need to turn around to know whose anguished-filled tone the demon was impersonating. Instead, she mouthed the too-often-heard words along with it. “You were right there, but you did nothing! Why did you let me die?”

“Nice to see you’re late to the party as always, Despair. Now, if you’ll cut the façade as well, I’d like to get right to your possession offers so I can reject them like usual.”

            “This isn’t about possessing you,” boomed a hulking, multi-eyed, gray mass as it materialized in front of the mage. “This is about you joining the Inquisition.”

            “Pride,” Velania shakily greeted, taking a couple steps back. “Here I was hoping you’d stay out of my dreams, considering what a disaster my Harrowing was because of you. I could have died, and then you’d have to look for some other poor wretch to torture.”

            Velania’s literal worst nightmare didn’t respond, just smiled. Desire stepped forward, crooning, “You don’t want to join the Inquisition; you want to stay free.”

            Despair’s hood nodded as it floated forward and squeaked, “They would chain you, imprison you. It would be like Kirkwall again. You can’t win if you go.”

            The mage scoffed, drawing herself up and crossing her arms as her eyes flitted from demon to demon. “What is this? Some kind of intervention?” But she was ignored.

            “I bet they’d take Sachi away from you,” added Fear’s rough voice. “I bet Ser Cullen would kill him and make you watch.”

            “Just think of all they’ve done to you, girl,” Rage’s scratchy tone growled as the fiery creature appeared. “Do they really deserve your help?”

            The demons started to surround her, closing in slowly. Pride’s eyes glowed as it thundered, “You can’t join them.”

            That was the wrong thing to say to a defiance-prone apostate. She glared up at the monstrosity and sneered, “Oh? I say I can. It’s not Kirkwall, it’s a pilgrimage town. The place is probably made of wood, so worst-case scenario I burn the place down and run away with Sachi. If they’re good people, I want to help. If I left innocents to suffer because I was scared of what they could do, it wouldn’t make me any better than the Chantry. I’m not one of you assholes, nor will I ever be. I want to be treated as a person, and I will never be treated like everyone else if I’m being a jerk or hiding all the time!”

            Even asleep, Velania had mana in her blood, and it thrummed outwards like soundwaves from a drum. She could feel her heartbeat syncing with the beats of her mana’s radiation. Something in her head clicked, and the demons were surprised enough that they stepped back. Who knew, telling someone what decision to make was a really good way of making them decide on their own?

            Just as she was about to open her mouth again, a bright white light shone down from above, and the end of a rope was flung down in front of Velania. She reached out and lightly tugged on it, and she felt a slight tug in her stomach, the beginnings of waking up.

            “Velania,” the demons growled in chorus. “Do not go.”

            She took one last look at the group and smirked. “Pendejos, for all the time you lot have been around, you still don’t know shit about how my mind works.”

            With that, she wound the rope around her wrist and yanked on it, and it rose up into the light, taking her up with it while the demons roared in irritation.

Chapter Text

Velania POV

Velania woke with a start, already reaching out for Sachi. Her hand was met with empty air, but she didn’t have time to question it before she felt her Voice open the Channel.

Are you alright? He called. I thought I felt something flare up. Were the demons bothering you again in your sleep?

Still not possessed, Templar. Don’t worry about it. The mage inwardly groaned and started to redo her now-messy braid into something that didn’t look like matted druffalo fur. She really needed to develop a potion to help her toss and turn less.

You always say that, Velania. Ah, yes, there was the arms-crossed tone of voice. Just what everyone wanted to hear first thing in the morning. I’m going to worry about you regardless. If something happens-

Templar, not now, please.

But-

My friend was injured yesterday, and he wasn't beside me when I woke up. If you spare me the lecture, I promise not to talk to you and interrupt your work at all today. Deal?

…Deal.

She felt his end of the Channel close, and she let hers go as well. That settled one problem, but now she had to deal with the one she was actually concerned with.

Where the fuck is Sachi?

Switch to Sachi POV

Sachi was on a mission.

Was it a very well-thought-out mission? Arguably.

Was Velania going to be mad at him for it? Absolutely.

But was Sachi going to make sure it happened anyway? Oh, without question.

Mission objective: Adopt the friendly Bearer of the Blessed Fruit, who apparently had a glowing hand now, not that Sachi was complaining. Maybe the glowy-ness would make it easier to reach fruit somehow. Sachi didn’t know, he didn’t understand magic; he was a hart.

In any case, Sachi was adopting the elf. Sachi liked him; he was good at collecting apples. Also, Sachi already had a pet human; how hard could it be to have a pet elf as well?

So, how exactly was the hart going to achieve his mission?

First, he had to locate and retrieve the elf’s company, something he had already achieved. While Velania slept, Sachi rose and tracked them down. At dawn he had approached their campfire, waiting until he was noticed, and then loudly declaring his entrance when he was not given the attention he needed. Once they were being good little people, he turned back the way he had come, walking a little bit before stopping and looking over his shoulder at them.

Well, don’t just stand there, he thought. Let’s go!

After a short time of deliberation, (“The hart wants us to follow it, doesn’t it?” “It would indeed seem so.” “It was a rhetorical question, Chuckles.”), as well as some well-deserved love, (“Aw, Sachi, I’m glad you like us. Do you want some scratchies?” “*happy hart noises!!!*”), Sachi was trotting in front as he led them back to Velania’s alcove.

Once they arrived, Sachi plopped down on his butt and waited for them to go through the crevice. When none of them moved, he tilted his head toward them and then to the crevice.

Come on! I hope you’re not as brainless as you are furless.

“So, who wants to go first?” asked the dwarf. He had the most fur. Hopefully that meant he had some intelligence. Everyone turned to look to him. He sighed, “Just because I’m the only dwarf doesn’t mean I’ll fit through there the easiest. Birch is plenty lanky; he could probably get through just fine.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, because the Inquisition was full of only the most mature adults, Sachi’s future pet elf suggested, “You wanna rock-paper-scissors for it?”

 The dwarf obliged and did rock, Future Pet went paper, and then the dwarf, defeated, started to wiggle his way through the crack. Sachi followed suit and nudged him along when he almost got stuck. Once through, Sachi spotted Velania sitting up and squinting at them in confusion. The dwarf, however, wasn’t even paying attention to Sachi’s favorite human, his shoulders sagged and his jaw dropped.

“Uh, Chuckles, you like painting, right?” He called, dumbstruck. “You’re going to want to see this.”

Varric POV

Shit, was the only thought Varric could muster. To make him speechless was saying something.

Murals covered almost every inch of visible stone. There were a few failed attempts at making Sachi, all covered with giant Xs. On another portion, purple thunderclouds shot a bolt of lightning into a dark ocean, and next to that a yellow tent glowed amid a nighttime forest, a sign in front of it saying ‘circus’. Above those, a green hill rose to meet a few orange aravels. Farther along, two girls sat at a table piled high with books amid a cramped library. One with light brown hair was clearly no older than 14, and the other was a young adult with black-brown hair. Opposite those paintings were more, the closest one being of a young boy (with a great resemblance to Velania) smirking conspiratorially. Varric recognized Anders and Karl in the next, their matching smiles reminding Varric just how long ago it had been since he’d seen Anders smile, even before he started wearing those stupid emo feathers. Still, as he gaped at the sheer amount of detail that Velania put into these images, Varric found himself wanting to hear the stories behind each of them. Curly hadn’t mentioned half of this. Maybe he didn’t even know.

Up near the tops of the walls were more murals, these of little things: apples, flowers, fire, flowers made of fire, even an attempt at the Fereldan Frostback, but for the most part there were stars. As he looked at the walls further, he saw that there were constellations littered in the spaces between the main paintings as well, some of which were properly named while others merely had descriptions beside them like ‘the tree one’ or ‘the one you could never remember from class.’ Each word was painted on messily, like their creator never thought that anyone except herself would ever need to decipher it.

Varric glanced farther into the clearing, and it was there that he saw slightly sloppier but still vivid flashes of the stories he probably never wanted to hear: a brown sloth demon stretched out a hand amid a bloodied backdrop; a young ginger girl’s face screwed up in agony as a claw erupted from her chest in a spurt of red; glowing purple eyes and a pointy-toothed grin stared down, as if it was waiting for someone to come close enough for it to snatch them up and consume them; and a faded stain of what looked like the purple and black of a smashed phylactery served as a companion to the words ‘FUCK THE CHANTRY’ in pitch-black along the back wall.

Andraste’s ass, she’s as extreme as Anders. Maker, don’t let her be possessed, too.

He heard Solas’ soft footsteps getting closer, and Sachi brushed past Varric to make room. The hart bumped into Varric, jolting him out of his wonder-induced trance, and the dwarf noticed the mage herself sitting under the black words, looking rather confused. He gave her a reassuring smile, but her expression didn’t change as Sachi laid down beside her. She seemed to say something to the hart, but aside from that, she just watched silently.

Sachi POV again

“You didn’t,” she hissed at him. “You didn’t bring them all here.”

And if I did? Sachi gave her what he knew was an adorably guilty look. He leaned in to nuzzle her face, but she pushed him away!

“No, you don’t get any cuddles, and you don’t get any apples either,” she sternly said.

No apples???!!! Her mood was worse than he thought!!! Well, he knew what would get her out of it.

Okay, give her the big cute eyes…

She looked at him. “Sachi, I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work, so don’t even try it.”

Now add the drooped ears and head tilt…

She glared at him, but she was fighting a losing battle. He could see it in how her eyebrows turned up and how her lips quivered slightly. She shook her head. “Sachi…”

Time to whine for effect and at least try to pout…

His favorite human lasted about three seconds longer before she broke. “Fiiiiiine,” she sighed, reaching for the food bag, “you can have some apples.” That solicited a big lick up one side of her face.

“Thanks, Sach,” she said with a wry smile.

You’re welcome, Velania, he thought with a happy ‘nghh.’ Then he nuzzled her until she hugged him(gingerly, mind you, arrow wounds don’t heal in a night) and held out an apple.

Meanwhile, the mage elf, the Pet-to-Be, and the lady with cheekbones sharper than her sword all walked into the clearing, each stopping to gape at Velania’s creations and apparently ignore their creator.

“Wow,” murmured Cheekbones, arm outreached toward the one closest to her, the one of the thunderstorm over the ocean.

Velania swiftly asserted, “Don’t touch that.” The Seeker looked at her as if she was just noticing her presence. Then she blushed and averted her gaze, embarrassed. The mage continued, “That one took me several days to get the colors right, and if you mess it up, I don’t care if you’re the Right Hand of the Divine or not, I will drop-kick you into Orlais.”

The warrior blinked. “I apologize, I wasn’t thinking. I just…These are amazing.”

Then it was Velania’s turn to blush slightly, her voice muffled as she hugged Sachi’s neck a little bit harder. “Everyone needs a hobby…But thank you.” Louder, she asked, “So, why did my hart bring you lot here? Especially after I told you to leave?”

The furry dwarf shrugged and said, “No idea, but, say, who is this?” He pointed to the painting of the boy that looked like Velania.

“That would be my twin brother, Ignacio,” she responded, and only Sachi knew how hard she was working to keep her face calm instead of overly fond.

Furry blinked. “You have a brother? Where is he?”

She hesitated. “I had to leave him when I transferred to the Fereldan Circle 15 years ago. For all I know, he’s long dead or made Tranquil.”

“…Oh.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Velania said, “Anyways, if Sachi led you here completely of his own accord, he probably wanted to judge you for me.” At everyone else’s confused looks, she explained, “He’s a good judge of character-“

That’s right, as sure as apples are delicious.

“-and we have a general scale set up.” Then she looked at Sachi. “Go ahead, mi amigo.”

First, the dwarf. Sachi sniffed him up and down, and upon finding nothing wrong, shoved his head under the dwarf's little hand. Once the hart received the (albeit unsure) scratchies he deserved, he licked up one side of the dwarf's face, and, to his credit, the furry person grimaced but didn't pull away.

“Is that a good thing?” the dwarf asked.

“Generally,” came the response.

Next was the elven mage, who, if Sachi was being honest here, was kinda weird. Seriously, who wears a wolf jaw around their neck? With how much mysteriousness was emanating from the man, Sachi fully expected him to have some big secret that would seem laughable until people realized he was serious, like he was a god in disguise or had a hidden wish to have sex with a bear. Who knew, honestly, but Sachi wasn't there to judge. Well, technically he was, but that's not important. The important thing was, the man was reaching out to scratch underneath Sachi's chin, and as Sachi's back leg began to shake and his tongue poked out of his mouth, the elf went up at least 10 points on Sachi's approval scale. However, that didn't do much for the man due his preexisting -5 points for being weird. Sachi bestowed upon his forehead the Tongue Blip of Neutrality.

Then there was the cheekbones lady. Sachi wasn’t sure how to feel about her. She looked at him warily, but was good and didn’t move while he did his thing. He circled her, and to his surprise there were little hearts on the edges of her scales. He liked them; he thought they were cute. Her eyes were intense, and grey as stone, but then again, you could always count on stone to be there. She evidently knew who Velania was, as per her earlier words and actions, but all things considered, she didn’t seem hostile. Still….hmmm…this called for an honesty test. He looked at Velania and rumbled, their sign for initiating the test.

“Seeker, do I frighten you?”

Cheekbones shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering…” Velania stood up before putting a hand on her hip. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was entirely on fire, the only visible part of her being her eyes. “What about now?”

The warrior confusedly responded, “I must admit I did not expect that, but no, not frightened. Did you expect to be scary?”

Velania put the fire out with a flourish, a small, thoughtful smirk growing on her face. She coolly said, “Yes, actually, considering this is an honesty question. Now, I’m going to ask one more time, and I want you to answer with nothing but the truth.” She let flames lick up her body once more, except this time they were black, shielding her from the group’s eyes to where she was just a floating head. On the wall, the grinning, purple-eyed face glittered in a flash of light before a pride demon sprung forth from it. It landed in a kneel beside Velania then rose to roar. Velania, meanwhile, had pushed up her sleeves and stuck her arms outside of the fire to reveal several cuts, all oozing blood from glowing purple veins. Her wolfish grin contained fangs that glinted in the light; when she blinked, her eyes became pure black boring into the other woman.

And in a voice deeper than her own, she boomed, “Do I scare you now, Seeker?”

The warrior swallowed, going pale as her hand reached for her sword, and her companions had matching expressions of shock.

Sachi snorted and tossed his head. He thought, Honestly, it’s like they’ve never seen a decent glamour before.

Apparently being the only one to take initiative and save his pet’s skin, the hart stepped forward and through the pride demon, making it flicker once, twice, and then it was gone.

“Sachiii!” Velania complained, still using the fake-deep voice. “Do you really have to-“ She broke off into a fit of coughing, and just like that all the other illusions disappeared, from the fire, to the black eyes, to the cuts, as if they were never even there. Velania beat her chest, casting a small spell to help her calm down. Once she caught her breath, she turned to Sachi. “Really?” she whined, her normal voice back, if a little bit rough. “You couldn’t let me mess with her for a moment longer?”

The warrior, her sword frozen halfway out of its sheath, looked between the mage and her hart. “Wait,” she growled, “you mean to tell me that you conjured all of that up?”

Elfy Mage supplied, “Illusions are not unheard of. Do they not teach them in your Circles?”

Velania snorted, “No. Of course not. What would we use it for, when the only time we left was to serve as the Chantry’s personal powerhouses?” She coughed again, looking up at Sachi with a pleading expression, and like the good little human-caretaker he was, he brought her the bag of potions. She fished out a mix of honey, lemon, and water and sipped on it while giving him a little scratch under his chin. Oh Velania, he thought, what on earth would you do without me? He nuzzled her lightly, brushing some of her hair out of her face.

“Um, Velania,” the dwarf gently began. He was glancing at her forehead meaningfully, his lips barely suppressing an amused smile. “I believe you may have….not done that spell the best way.”

She looked at him and paused. Then she deadpanned, “I burned my eyebrows off, didn’t I?”

“Eh, well….yes.”

“Completely?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Damnit!” she muttered under her breath. “I thought I bloody fixed—and of course I’m out of the growing salve. Fantastic.”

Cheekbones brought things back on track with a confused, “So, what exactly did that establish?”

Velania grinned at her. “Aside from the fact I have a flair for the dramatic and irritating Templars? Although, honestly, if Noodle Hair didn’t tell you about that, he probably didn’t tell you anything of import. I wanted to see if you truly believed I wasn’t frightening or if you were bluffing to seem scarier, and you passed. Now, if Sachi will give the final verdict…”

In the end, Sachi gave her the cheek lick, same as the furry dwarf.

And then the time came for Sachi to commence phase 2 of Operation Adopt the Good Elf: communicate to Velania that he wanted to keep said elf.

He stood behind the elf and placed his head on top of his, rumbling contentedly. Again, the ear droop and big eyes were employed on his pet human, except this time she was confused for a moment, after which-

“Sachi, no.”

But why nooootttt? He whined.

“I’m glad to see him too, but we cannot keep him. He has responsibilities, things to-“

“Brauuuu!!!!”

“Nope, not happening.”

The elf grinned, held up a finger and said, “Actually, I would very much like to be kept, and I just had an idea as to how he could do so. Presuming you would be willing to listen, of course. If you truly don’t want us to even speak of the possibility of you joining the Inquisition, I’d be sad, but I promise that we would leave, in peace, and Commander Cullen wouldn’t be any the wiser.” He paused. “Though, I have to ask: why do you call him ‘Noodle Hair’?”

Velania gave him a long look. “Beeecause his hair looks like a bunch of noodles plastered on his head?”

“No it doesn’t.”

“…Yes, it does…Are we really talking about the same Ser Cullen here?”

The furry dwarf interjected, “Yes, except Curly has now discovered the wonder that is quality hair product.”

“No. No! You’re joking.” Velania gaped, snorting. “Him? Hair product? And it actually working-El Creador, it really is the end of the world, oh my goodness…I leave for four years and the bastard...” She gave her head a shake. “Anyways, yes, I suppose I will listen, considering my hart companion-“ she glared at Sachi. He nuzzled Future Pet’s hair some more. “-did drag you lot all the way up here. So, you talk, and I’ll eat some food. Would anyone else like anything?”

There were murmurs of affirmation, followed by the food bag being passed around and a fire being lit, and then they sat down while Future Pet talked (and gave Sachi scratchies, thank goodness).

…….

Velania POV

“So, condensed version of everything you just said,” Velania stated, pacing back and forth. “I pose as a Tranquil, work as an assistant to your overworked, semi-grumpy alchemist named Adan in the apothecary, live in a currently empty cabin in the woods, stay away from Templars, and avoid Noodle Hair as much as possible, assuming he will work too much to come anywhere near where I am. Granted, I could see that, knowing him, but…”

“Curly won’t find you,” Varric spoke up. “I’ll bet you five sovereigns as such.”

Velania was quiet for a time. Again, her instincts said yes, but her mind said no. “You do realize I would be leaving what I have made my home, right? Something I’ve worked hard to maintain and protect?”

The dwarf raised a knowing eyebrow at her. “Based on all those bags, I’d say that’s what you were doing regardless.”

Dammit, I hate when people are right.

She thought for a moment more, took a glance at the others’ curious and hopeful expressions, and then opened her mouth—

Don’t you dare, the demons said.

“Make it ten sovereigns and I’m in.”

Fellassan fist-pumped the air while Sachi started to raise his head to the sky. “Yes!”

“On two conditions.”

“Aw…”

Velania held up a finger. “One, while I am generally open to questions, that only goes to a certain extent. I reserve the right to choose to not answer anything I deem to be excessively prying. Sorry if that makes certain people unsure of me,” she shot a glance at Seeker Pentaghast, “but that’s just how it is.”

The warrior nodded. “Very well. We will respect your privacy.”

Velania expected more of a response. When it didn’t come, she cleared her throat and turned to look at the other mage, who raised an eyebrow. “Spar with me. You win, I know Noodle Hair can tolerate a free mage of a power similar to mine, and I definitely join. I win, I make no promises on anything, and if I still choose to join, I can and will run at a moment’s notice if I feel it necessary.” That probably covered all the bases, right? Sure.

You’re a fool, Pride whispered.

Takes one to know one, she hissed back.

The elf looked at her curiously and answered, “I am not opposed to it, as long as enough of your strength has returned to reflect your abilities accurately.”

She shrugged. “I’ve done more with less. Rule suggestions: One barrier spell each, no limit on how strong or weak it is, aside from it being the single barrier layer. First person to break the other’s barrier spell wins, and if the first round is close, we do best of three. Any issues?”

“None.” He stepped closer to her alcove’s entrance and gestured with a hand. “Shall we go to the bottom of the cliffs, where there is more space?”

……..

Fellassan POV

“Okay, Birch, place your bets,” Varric said, rubbing his hands together and lightly elbowing Fellassan. “Who do you think will win?”

The elf grinned and kept his eyes on the mages as they faced one another, roughly ten feet apart. “Velania, of course.”

“Mmm, I would have gone in favor of Chuckles, but now your certainty’s got me second-guessing.” The dwarf thoughtfully scratched at his stubbled chin. “Do you think she’ll knock him on his ass?”

Solas called, “Just because you four are over there doesn’t mean we can’t hear you, you know.”

“Sorry, Chuckles, it was just a question!” Quieter, Varric asked Cassandra, “Thoughts, Seeker?”

“I am not going to engage in speculation,” came the serious-as-always response. “Even if I wanted to, I do not have enough information to do so.”

“Oh, come on, Seeker. What’s your gut saying?”

“I already refused, and I am going to stand by it.”

“Brauu.”

“See, Seeker, even the hart wants your opinion~.”

“You have no idea what the hart-“

“Shhh!” Fellassan shushed his companions. “They’ve started.”

Velania struck first, forcing Solas on the defensive with a fireball thrown at his feet. Her staff made of ice had reappeared, whirling through the air as she deflected Solas’ icicle counterattack. The two traded melee blows, but only Velania’s hit to his side connected. Even that was a grazing at best. Fellassan had to give Solas credit: the Antivan’s movements were rapid and strong enough to push Solas back, making the Dalish suspect the use of haste and force spells, and yet his fellow elf seemed to be holding his own.

Velania put some space between them, and while the pair circled each other, Fellassan studied their faces. Solas’ expression was as vague as ever, but Velania was grinning widely. It made her seem more than a little bit insane. There was a mutual pause, and then she threw a massive fireball at her own feet.

The miniature explosion sent up dust, dirt, and smoke so thick the spectators could barely see their own hands in front of their faces. Fellassan’s elf ears picked up the hum of lightning and crackle of fire. Purple and red collided amid grey and brown in little spurts, although the smokescreen was already fading. If Velania was going to finish strong, she needed to act soon.

“Can either of you two see anything?” he said.

“Nope.”

“I cannot either.”

“Sachi?”

“Bruh-uh.”

The cloud went silent, the wind picked up, and everyone could finally see again.

And Velania was standing over Solas, victorious.

“That was great!” she slightly panted, enthusiastically helping him to his feet. “Do you want to go again? It was pretty close.”

Varric shook his head as Solas agreed and stood opposite Velania again. “It’s a bit merciless to insist--oh shit.”

Velania’s entire body was encompassed in thick ice, immobilizing her. Solas took his sweet time strolling over before tapping on her cold prison. As it shattered around her, Velania shivered, her teeth chattering. “You can’t just one-hit me!” she irritatedly fumed.

Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “And why not? I followed your rules, did I not?”

“….Fine. 1-1. Last round. Get ready to be destroyed.” Velania’s demeanor had changed completely. Gone was her grin, replaced by a hard line, and her fists glowed red.

Despite Cassandra’s verbal disinterest in the fight, Fellassan saw her leaning forward eagerly. “Velania wants to win,” she thoughtfully murmured. “Badly.” The elf and dwarf nodded in agreement.

This time, Solas struck first, a stonefist narrowly missing Velania’s head as she ducked. Her ice-staff disappeared, and her hands cut through the air as she made fire mine after fire mine at Solas’ feet. He dodged each one, jumping out of the way just before it exploded. Velania was forced to retreat when he retaliated with a fireball immediately followed by an assault of energy bolts. Another fireball was thrown, and she didn’t have time to evade it. Instead, she summoned an ice shield on her right arm and tilted it down. While the flames splashed off away from her face, she shot a stonefist, and Solas barely dodged it.

“I thought we agreed on one barrier,” he panted. “Is a shield not a barrier?”

“I said one barrier spell,” she growled.

“Very well.”

Solas was getting tired, that much was clear. He hid it well, but Fellassan noticed the sheen of sweat that ran down his face. Velania, on the other hand, seemed fired up as ever despite her heavy breathing. Maybe deep inhales helped mages recharge their mana; Fellassan didn’t know. He wasn’t a mage.

However, he knew things were about to get even more interesting when Velania made copies of herself, surrounding the other mage. There must have been at least twenty, if not thirty of them, and they all immediately started running around and making noise.

“Confused, Solas?” One said.

“I wonder which one is the real Velania,” said another, dashing by the elf.

“As long as one of us deals damage to him, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” said one more.

Fellassan lost track of the real Antivan within the first two seconds, so it didn’t come as any surprise when Solas sent out a wave of fire. Some of the illusions disappeared, but others merely rolled out of the way. The remaining Velanias charged, fists blazing. The elf raised his arms and braced himself, but there was no need. Each figure disappeared just as a single Velania popped up behind Solas, wielding her ice-staff again and swinging it at his shoulders. Fellassan gasped, fists clenched and silently cheering her on.

And then she stepped on a twig. Audibly.

Instead of her blow connecting, it missed completely as Solas side-stepped and grabbed her arm. He readied another energy attack, yet she spun out of his grip just in time. They exchanged blows with their staves again, but this time the two were so evenly matched that Fellassan couldn’t tell who was winning. Solas swung at her head. Velania ducked. Their weapons interlocked, she spat fire at him, and he pulled away briefly before pushing back at her. She needed to make an opening or a diversion. Fellassan saw her blink, and for a second her eyes lit up before they became shielded again. Lightning arched from the sky toward her opponent, and when he tilted his head up to watch it, Velania made her move. Ice appeared underneath Solas’ bare feet, and when his weight shifted to dodge the lightning, he slid and fell. The lightning made contact, and though it bounced off the invisible barrier at first, it quickly shattered the shield. Luckily, Velania retracted the spell before Solas was hurt, but it was clear who the winner was, and in case it wasn’t…

“EEEIIIIIIII!”

Everyone jumped at Sachi’s joyful exclamation, and then Velania started laughing. She looked at the giant hart, her face screaming multitudes of ‘are you serious right now, you dork.’

Once Solas got up and brushed himself off, the others approached the duelists and expressed how impressed they were with Velania’s fighting.

“It was nothing, really,” she brushed off, blushing slightly and crossing her arms. “Solas, if you ever want to go again, count me in.”

Fellassan’s ears perked up at that. “Wait, so if you’re offering to spar again, does that mean….?” He smiled at her hopefully, to which she rolled her eyes and smiled just a teensy bit.

“Yes, I will join the Inquisition, for better or worse.” At Fellassan and Sachi’s cheering, she muttered, “Besides, I can’t have Noodle Hair of all people showing me up.”

“We’re glad to have you aboard,” Fellassan declared, fist-pumping the air. “Next stop, Horsemaster Dennet’s to get some mounts!”

“Herald,” Cassandra sweat-dropped, “we should probably let Velania retrieve her belongings.”

“Okay, let’s do that, and then we’ll go get mounts!”

The Dalish elf looked around the group, and when Velania picked up her bags, slung them over her shoulder, and looked around her area of residence one last time, she was smiling.

“Eyebrows, you ready to go?” Varric called.

She gave him a look. “Please don’t call me Eyebrows.”

“Too late! Now, let’s go before we lose any more daylight!”

And thus they set off, and before nightfall they were halfway to the Crossroads.

Chapter Text

Varric POV

Before Varric knew it, almost two weeks had passed since Velania joined the group, and frankly, he was starting to wonder how she and Cullen had managed to live in the same Circle for however many years. Not that Velania was particularly irritating or anything, it was just that she and Cullen had very different personalities, to put it gently.

Of course, Varric had figured as much; when they were bored on the ship from Kirkwall, he took the liberty of asking the Templar about his former charge. Cullen then proceeded to talk his ear off for hours, and later Varric would learn that he had spoken to the others at length as well. Cassandra had heard the most about her activities in the Circles; Solas knew about her expertise in pyromancy and lack thereof in magical theory; Josephine had received several questions about the Antivan language; Leliana had asked about Velania’s beliefs; and Varric had been privy to matters such as Anders in relation to Velania, as well as a certain circumstance between the mage and the Templar that Cullen made him swear to never tell anyone about.

But that last part was a matter for another day.

Anyways, Cullen’s inability to let Velania go gave Varric a lot of information and yet gave him nothing at all. Why, might you ask?

Because Cullen seemed to not know a single damn thing about what Velania liked doing aside from practicing magic, backtalking, and criticizing the Chantry.

The painting? Curly never mentioned it. The intricate illusions? The eyebrows? Not once.

So, to help him keep track of all of her little traits, Varric started a list of them.

1. Liked her space.

She and Sachi spent as little time in camp as possible. Where they went or what they were doing, she never said, but no one argued with her. The duo ate dinner, took first watch, and then disappeared each night. In the morning they consistently reappeared, often with darker under-eye circles, elfroot, potions, and occasionally paint streaks, and Varric couldn’t help but notice that her potions bag had an awful lot of alertness potions in them. Anders had made a science out of seeing how long he could stay awake on those, but since Velania never got even close to his record of 9 straight days, Varric figured she had to be sleeping at some point and thus didn’t worry about her nighttime activities. However, some parties were apparently curious, so one night Cassandra asked her why she left.

Velania crossed her arms and gave an honest, but guarded response. “If you must know, I have nightmares. Pretty bad ones. If I slept in camp, I’d likely wake everyone up.”

“Are they caused by demons?” the Seeker immediately said. “If you are at a great risk of possession, we need to know about it.”

Brown eyes narrowed against grey, and a trace of venom edged into Velania’s voice. “The Chantry believes any mage is at great risk of possession, right? Because we’re all just that stupid to give away what little autonomy we have. Not to worry, Seeker, I enjoy pissing off everyone in the vicinity too much to take orders, demons included.”

Solas suddenly spoke up. “If I may, Seeker Pentaghast, I have seen her interactions with the demons in the Fade, and she is quite capable of handling herself. If she were not, I’m sure she would have been possessed already.”

That seemed to satisfy Cassandra for the time being, but Velania was curious. “How did you see me in my part of the Fade?” Her eyes became alarmed and wide, and she hid her hands behind her back. “And just how much did you see?”

That led to Velania finding out that Solas was a Dreamer and subsequently nerding out about it, which was when Varric tuned them out.

In addition to nighttime, Velania would sometimes leave the group for no other reason than to take look around. She knew the terrain well and could scale a cliff faster than they could find a way around, and if she came back with a few more scratches and torn clothes, well, she always had some animal in hand for Fellassan to make dinner out of while Solas patched her and Sachi up.

It was kind of weird, to have a companion that just up and left whenever, but hey, if she was comfortable, Varric wasn’t going to stop her.

Though, one night he caught a glimpse of an old, thin scar on her left wrist; she picked at it when she told them about her phobia of bears(“Sorry, but if I see one, I will bolt and leave you behind. I can’t…I can’t.” “So, you can’t ‘bear’ them? Huh? Anyone?” “*groan* Fellassan!”). The picking seemed to be habitual action, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it. Varric kept a closer eye on her wrists and her wellbeing after that, although whether he was more concerned about any new scars being from blood magic or another cause, he couldn’t say.

2. Was very friendly

Aside from Anders, two girls in Kirkwall’s Circle, and Fellassan’s clan, Varric didn’t know much about Velania’s acquaintances. Based on her reserved demeanor thus far, she seemed kind of like a more socialized version of Solas, where she was good around other people, but still kept to herself most of the time. Oh, how Varric was wrong.

When they stopped at the Crossroads, Velania and Sachi broke off to talk to an older woman named Gladice. Later, when the group went to find the duo, they found themselves being roped into Gladice's house through the power of sweet rolls, pink lemonade, and aggressive grandmothering.

"My wife and I took care of this one-" Gladice said, throwing a sun-spotted arm around Velania's shoulders, "-when she first came to the area."

“I’ve tried to convince them to go to a safer place, like Redcliffe, but they won’t budge,” Velania said, lips quirking as she wrinkled her nose and side-eyed Gladice. “Tough as old nails, these two.”

The old woman’s green eyes glittered. "The phrase, Antivan, is 'tough as nails' or 'tough as old boots', and Lucille and I aren’t old!" she corrected, playfully swatting Velania over the head.

The mage grinned and tried to dodge the woman’s hand. She quipped, "Oh, then what are we calling it now? Long-lived?"

"Experienced," came the matter-of-fact response.

Velania fondly rolled her eyes. "Ah. Of course."

The banter only increased when Gladice’s Orlesian wife, Lucille, returned home for dinner (yes, Gladice insisted on them staying for dinner, too), and then there were three women backtalking one another while asking them to pass the salt. Sachi seemed to enjoy it; he got a lot of affection and was in a constant state of what Velania called ‘blepping’. It was almost as loud as being back in the Hanged Man, and the fire certainly glowed more warmly. Velania laughed and talked the entire time, with the exception of when Varric accidentally referenced her lack of eyebrows. While Gladice and Lucille gave her shit about messing up another spell (apparently it was a frequent occurrence), she gave Varric a look that, admittedly, he deserved, but she got her revenge when she asked him to explain why Hard in Hightown II was so terrible. As soon as the words were out of Velania’s mouth, Gladice started on a rant about grammar and the difference between ‘there’, ‘their’, and ‘they’re’, and Lucille sweatdropped as she tried to calm her wife. Varric launched into an attempt to convince Gladice that he was completely uninvolved in that garbage, and when he glanced at Velania, she was watching him with this smug little smirk, the cheeky mage.

When the group finally made their goodbyes, it was with full bellies and hearts. (Really, even Cassandra found it within herself to withstand Gladice’s hugs. It was like a Satinalia miracle.)

“Take care of our girl, now!” The couple called after them, as though the group was merely taking their daughter on a day trip. Velania blushed slightly.

“Don’t worry!” Fellassan beamed. “We will!”

As they were leaving town, a blonde boy, no older than 7, came running up. He called, “Velania! Velania!”

Her brow furrowed as she picked him up and spun him around, settling him on her hip. “Jonathan? I thought your family went to Redcliffe last month! What are you still here for?”

“Mama got a cold, so we had to stay,” he panted. “We leave in two days.” His grey eyes drifted over her shoulder to Fellassan. “I like your face stuff. It’s pretty.”

The elf smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

Velania then introduced everyone to little Jonathan, who had a couple things to say.

“You don’t look old. Why are you bald? It makes you look like an egg.”

“Why is your shirt open like that? It gets cold soon.”

“Lady, you need to turn your frown upside down!”

For that last one, the kid actually reached out with his little fingers and stretched Cassandra’s lips into a smile. Velania looked equal parts scandalized and amused, and it was with a suppressed snicker that she swiftly whisked the kid off to his home before he could say anything else. She told the others to go on ahead, that she and Sachi would find them later that night or in the morning.

Varric expected that to be the last time they came across someone she knew, but they briefly spoke with Scout Harding, who apparently was acquainted with her as well.

“Pretty much everyone around here knows what she looks like, even if they don’t know her name or haven’t spoken to her much,” she said. “That hart of hers isn’t exactly difficult to notice. She comes by for a couple days every month to sell potions and visit people, and then she just…disappears. Drops off the grid entirely. I didn’t realize she was crazy enough to live near that dragon.”

That night, Fellassan and Cassandra wrote Sister Leliana a letter explaining their intentions for Velania with the Inquisition. Ravens flew while they slept, and by morning Leliana had sent an affirmative reply, assuring that the Commander “wouldn’t be any the wiser,” because that didn’t seem particularly shady or anything.

The next day, Velania and Sachi found them, as promised, and Velania was more upbeat and happier than ever. Varric tried to keep it that way as long as he could by asking about the people at the Crossroads, but eventually he ran out of questions.

Out of nowhere, she asked, “Hey, you guys haven’t seen any mountain lions around here, have you?” At everyone’s head shake, she continued, “Seeing everyone yesterday got me thinking. I met a Rivaini Seer once, and she said something really vague about lions and dragons and ‘the dragon shall realize she had the key to her shackles all along’. Now, I don’t know what that means, but I already almost died to a bear and a dragon, and I have no wish to meet any other large carnivores up close. No? No lions? Great.”

3. Must be kept with Sachi at all times

This kind of went without saying, but a Velania with her hart was a Velania with her heart. She was anxious for Sachi’s arrow wounds to heal, and she bugged Solas incessantly about it. How long would it take to heal? Would her minor healing spells do anything to help? Could she do anything to help Solas move along quicker? All these questions and more provoked Solas to snap at her that she needed to calm down and that Sachi would heal with time and patience.

Despite being wounded, Sachi didn’t seem to be especially hindered. As long as direct pressure wasn’t applied to the wounds, he was fine. He ran around with Velania, kicked in attackers’ heads, got bags stuck on his antlers, and stole apples right out their hands like he was completely fine. The little shit wasn’t in any apparent pain when he got stuck on top of a bush (long story short, he tried to jump over it but didn’t jump high enough; Velania took one look at his embarrassed pout, started giggling, and murmured, “Oh, Sachi, how does this keep happening?”).

Also, Velania somehow was able to understand Sachi’s rumbles and ‘eeeIIIIEEs’; how, Varric didn’t know. To him, they all sounded similar, but Velania could have a brief conversation with the hart.

“No more apples for you this morning.”

“Bruahhhhhhhhhh!”

“I don’t care if you only had two, there are more people than just us now. You have to share. There’s plenty of bark around for you to eat.”

“Pupph….”

“Good Sachi. Now, let’s go find a stream so I can give you a bath.”

“EEIIII!”

“I’m not letting that blood dry on your fur. You know how it makes you itch, and then you’ll complain for days. Come on, let’s go.”

Shit got real when Velania started talking in rapid Antivan. It only happened once, when he charged Cassandra for practicing her swordplay at a distance he deemed too close to Velania, but after the scolding he got, Sachi’s ears and tail drooped, and he hung his head. At dinner he snuggled up to the Seeker, and when she assured him that his mode of apology was appreciated but unnecessary, he licked up the side of her face (“Ugh.”) and returned to the side of his favorite human, who let the incident go.

Not that Sachi didn’t get on Velania’s case about anything. No, no, he doted on her like a mother hen. If she didn’t eat enough, he wouldn’t let her go anywhere until she ate more. If she was trying to say something but kept being interrupted, he made a loud screech to get everyone’s attention before resting his head on Velania’s head. He began showing similar behavior to Fellassan, who had somehow begun learning Sachi-speak within a day or two of the duo’s joining.

One night, Varric woke up during Velania’s watch to hear her softly singing something in Antivan while Sachi’s head lay across her lap.

“Velania? Why are you singing?”

“It helps Sachi go to sleep,” she plainly said, as if that were all the explanation required.

“….Alright, Eyebrows. You do you.”

It was the weirdest person-pet relationship Varric had ever seen.

4. NERD

One morning, early on in Velania’s joining, Varric’s morning began with the oh-so-lovely sounds of:

“What do you mean, the glyphs need to combined?! What’s wrong with merely overlaying them? They still create the desired effect!”

“Oh, for the—It throws off the balance of the spell completely! This is the reason why you burn your eyebrows off. Did they teach you nothing in the Circles?”

“Nothing on magical experimentation! So, you’re telling me, that if I merely combined them, I wouldn’t have any issues? How do I do that?”

“……You may want to get out some paper. I expect this to take some time. And why are you talking with your hands that much?”

“I’m Antivan, Solas. Hand-talking comes with the citizenship.”

As it turned out, Velania pulled a good part of her magic spells out of her ass. Solas “refused to tolerate such sloppy work”, and thus began a debate/lesson that lasted three. Fucking. Hours. Solas would say or demonstrate something, she would write it down, and if she had an issue with what he said, she would challenge it and fight him tooth and nail over it. Varric eventually blocked it out, thank the ever-loving Maker, and soon Fellassan persuaded them to continue their ‘discussion’ on the road.

However, the day only got worse from there.

They helped a Dalish mage enter a cave and acquire a necklace (shortly before convincing her to hand it over to them, but whatever), and in the cave were two more things: some artifact Solas said would strengthen the Veil and a Veilfire rune. While Velania was intrigued by the artifact and the necklace, she practically squealed and got hearts in her eyes when Fellassan activated the Veilfire. She started messing with it almost immediately, playing around as though the blue flames were a toy. Again, Solas was subject to her questions.

“Ooooooo! Why is it blue-green? How is it cool on its own? How did the markings on the wall get there? *gasp* Qué linda…”

Varric didn’t comprehend a fraction of the magic-y stuff Solas said in reply. Velania seemed to understand some of it, but she was a bit preoccupied with gleefully twisting the flames around her hands and arms.

Less than an hour after they managed to drag the mages away from the cave, they found their first astrarium, and then Velania lost her shit again.

“But it’s daytime! And cloudy!” she muttered to herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked at the images of the stars. “Who put this here? How does it work? Oh, there’s Fervanis, and Eluvia, and Servani, and Satinalis, and- Creador, es-“ And then she made a bunch of stifled noises in her excitement.

Varric raised an eyebrow. “Don’t hurt yourself over there, Eyebrows.”

“Oh, hush, dwarf, let me be happy about this. I don’t know how I didn’t find these before. Sachi, do you want to look at the stars?”

It may have only been the afternoon, but Varric was eager to get mounts and then return to a proper bed in Haven as soon as possible. He expected the day to go down the drain when Fellassan, with an amused glance at Velania, suggested that they make camp there, since it was at a good vantage point. Cassandra insisted that they actually make some progress, but just as they were beginning to move on, the skies decided to suddenly open up and downpour on them. They ended up going back to the Veilfire cave for shelter, and Varric went to sleep to the sound of the two mages debating barrier modifications to accommodate the rain, or some shit like that.

Maybe this was what Cullen meant when he said, “Velania is certainly….dedicated to her studies.”

Sweet Andraste.

5. Ready to fight the Chantry anytime, anywhere

The group eventually made some progress (thank the Maker), but along the road they heard news of a Templar camp terrorizing mages and non-mages alike. Of course, Fellassan’s bleeding heart demanded that they clear out the camp immediately. The only issue was…No one knew its location.

(Or, well, Varric was under the impression that no one in the group knew its location. Very different concepts, as it turned out.)

Now, Velania and Cassandra were on sort of rocky ground. They were civil, but they each seemed to harbor some innate suspicion of the other. They typically stayed far away from one another during battle, and any conversations were short-lived and curt. Frankly, Varric half-expected a small explosion when they finally went at it.

“So, you read my letter, but you didn’t do anything until after Anders fucked everything up?” Velania started, and Cassandra crossed her arms.

“I never said that. I will admit that I delayed addressing the issue and instead attended to other matters first, but I was already on the Waking Sea when the Chantry explosion happened. Even from a week’s distance on boat, we could see the most awful red light shooting up into the sky…”

The mage huffed. “Well, I sincerely hope that whatever you delayed for was worth the lives lost in the meantime.”

“We had received reports in the past about Knight-Commander Meredith,” Cassandra tried to explain. “When investigated then, we often found enough corruption within the Circle that we felt her methods were justified.”

“So you doubted me…I sent you documentation of no less than seven occurrences of the Rite of Tranquility that happened over the previous year, all with made-up justifications, and all on full mages, none of which had any close connections with one another other than being in the same Circle, and you thought I was another filthy little blood mage crying ‘wolf.’” In the middle of camp, the fire hissed and spat. “You must be very proud of yourself right now, Seeker. Congratulations.”

Cassandra fixed her with a hard stare, and Varric’s stomach started to churn a little bit. She harshly replied, “Commander Cullen was right: you do seem to enjoy backtalking.”

Velania’s lip curled as she smiled coldly. “Yes, he would know plenty about that, as well as how effective my left hook is.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I don’t know, does it need to be?”

Cassandra shook her head in disbelief and snorted. “You wish to be treated as an equal, and yet you act as though authority does not affect you at all.”

“Oh, playing the authority card now, are we?” Velania laughed. “Am I supposed to cower in fear and reverence of your righteous power?”

“I did not intend to play any card. I merely meant that you should learn to control your tongue.”

“No, no, I’m invested in this now. Does this mean I can play my magic card and freeze your underclothes while you sleep? Make your bedroll uncomfortably warm? Spell nasty images on to your face for an unknown time frame?”

Gray and brown eyes narrowed at one another, and Fellassan stood up, shaking his head. He said, “Both of you, stop! Velania, you’re going to cause a forest fire if that campfire gets any bigger. Cassandra, keep your hands away from your sword; you’re making Sachi anxious. Give each other some breathing space!”

The women glared and huffed at each other, but neither made any effort to further their squabble. Velania and Sachi took the first watch and then left camp, and the next morning was when the Templar-hunting quest began. During breakfast, Solas examined Sachi one last time before declaring him fully healed from his arrow wounds, much to Velania’s relief, and Cassandra poured over a large map of the area.

“The Templars have to be around here somewhere.” She gestured with a finger, and Fellassan looked over her shoulder.

“Cassandra,” he said. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but that’s kind of the entire region west of us. We can’t possibly search all that today.”

She sighed, “I know. It does not help that we have so little to go on. I can’t believe we haven’t run into a single person that would be able to lead us to the camp.”

On the other side of camp, Varric saw Velania pause as she cut an apple in half for Sachi. She silently glanced at the Seeker for a moment before resuming her actions.

“There has to be someone! A local, most likely. Should we return to the Crossroads to ask them?”

Again, Velania said nothing, just averted her gaze from Cassandra and took a long sip of her flask.

Aside from Varric’s slight attention, Velania was seemingly forgotten about by their companions as she wordlessly moved about the camp, picking up a few pieces of food and a bag. It wasn’t until Sachi was kneeling to allow her to climb on that anyone said anything.

Cassandra demanded, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I want to get another look at the ocularum we found yesterday,” she calmly responded, not even looking up as she got on Sachi’s back. The hart started to move, slowly at first but steadily accelerating.

“So, you’re not going to help find the camp? You’re just going to leave us?”

“Surely you don’t need my help to locate some Templars. Remember to take deep breaths, Seeker. Maybe take a walk by the river if you get stuck.” Velania kept her expression and tone calm and cool, but Varric saw that little twinkle in her eye. He could see where this was going.

Andraste’s ass, she’s going to make us walk around all day.

In a last-ditch effort, Varric called to her shrinking figure, “You know where it is, don’t you? Just tell us!”

Velania glanced back, and this time her lips were curled into a smirk. “Sorry, Varric, I’ve decided to control my tongue today! Have fun!”

And with not a single word more, she spurred Sachi onwards and out of sight.

(Vaguely, Varric remembered Cullen’s story of how Velania once twisted the Fereldan Knight-Commander’s words to make it sound like he gave her permission to be out of bed after lights out. He should have seen something like this coming.)

The dwarf turned to give Cassandra an unimpressed look and saw the two elves doing the same. She was turning red, although whether it was from embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t tell.

She muttered, “I cannot believe her. Perhaps I had been a bit harsh last night, but she still didn’t need to do this just to prove a point. All of you, I’m sorry.”

“No, she’s being childish, too,” Varric said, sighing deeply.

It was going to be a long day.

Morning came and went, then noon, and afternoon was well on its way out when the group took a break near one of the streams.

“I wish Velania had taken me with her,” Fellassan muttered as he wiped sweat from his brow.

Varric couldn’t help but agree. He was the one stuck with the heavier of Velania’s bags that she left behind, and carrying it around all day was taking its toll.

Solas’ voice piped up, “Seeker, what did she tell you before she left? Something about this river?” At the Seeker’s nod, he suggested, “Let’s look around here. It may not be an actual clue, but it is one of the few places we haven’t thoroughly searched yet.”

Farther along the river to the South, a sudden explosion sent up a bunch of smoke into the otherwise blue sky.

“Velania?” Varric suggested.

The Herald shrugged. “Probably.”

Sure enough, as the area came into view, so did Sachi, who was peacefully grazing on some grass. A Templar with scorched armor came running out of the charred remains of palisades, screaming bloody murder. He saw their group and started toward them.

“Help!” he yelled. “There’s a crazy witch inside, she-“

He was cut off as a whip of flames snaked out from the smoke cloud, coiled around his foot, and pulled it out from under him. The cord lifted him off the ground before it brought him crashing back down once, twice, three times, until his screaming stopped (did Varric mention how glad he was to have Velania on their side?). Then it lifted his limp form over what used to be the camp’s entrance and started shaking him like a ragdoll. A small coinpurse fell out, and a tanned hand reached out of the smoke to catch it. Its owner followed a moment later.

Velania, having fought with a full store of mana, looked none the worse for wear, despite having just fought an entire camp of Templars by herself. A bit soot-covered, but no obvious wounds or anything. No, she was fine, just standing in the entrance with a paper in one hand and the coinpurse and flame cord in the other. She didn’t look up as she exited, for she was intently reading the paper and scowling at it. The cord disappeared, letting the body drop with a thud, and she pocketed the money before balling up the paper and chucking it onto the grass. She still didn’t notice the group as she went back inside the smoke cloud. Velania re-emerged a moment later, carrying a chest that looked way too big for her. She plopped it down on the ground and, upon finding it locked, looked around. In her scanning, her gaze finally fell upon her companions.

“Oh. Hello,” she greeted somewhat sheepishly, her tone posing more confidence by the second. “Took you long enough. I waited, but then one of them saw me and, well.... You see what happened.”

The Seeker walked right up to her and looked her dead in the eye, an action that intimidated Velania enough to make her hands twitch and her foot step back.

Cassandra cut to the chase. “I do hold myself accountable, at least in part, for what happened in Kirkwall. I failed the people there, and if I could do it over, I would stop Meredith. I apologize.”

The mage, clearly surprised at this development, gaped for a moment before smirking. “I-I’m sorry, can you say that again? I’m not quite sure I caught all of-“

“Eyebrows,” Varric tiredly interjected. “Just take the damn apology so we can make camp and take a nap.”

She blushed, a hand rising to scratch behind her neck. To the Seeker, she responded, “I’m sorry, too. I was being immature and let my desire to blame someone fuel my actions. Sorry about a moment ago as well. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Templar apologize to me that quickly, that’s all, and you surprised me. All is forgiven. And,” she genuinely smiled and gestured to the chest at her feet, “speaking of surprises, I believe this thing should be filled to the brim with sweet rolls. Who wants to help me break it open?”

It was a pleasant evening, or as pleasant as making camp near the fire could be. On the bright side, the fennec foxes they had for dinner had a nice smoky flavor, and any ashes on clothes could be washed away in the river. Velania and Cassandra still gave one another some space, but they tried to seem more welcoming toward the other than usual.

The peace, unfortunately, did not last in full.

“You were raised in the Circles! How are you not Andrastian?”

“It’s not like I don’t believe in the Maker, I just think the Chantry’s full of liars and scumbags!

It was a long conversation. At this point, Varric was just hoping that yelling would help them get their thoughts out quicker, so they could all move along. In the end, things evolved into an actual civil interaction.

“Look, Seeker, you can believe whatever you want, but I can’t follow a religion that claims that the Maker is loving of all of his children, and yet is also all-powerful and did nothing while demons and blood magic ripped apart the Ferelden Circle, or while the Blight devastated these lands, or while the Qunari attacked innocent civilians in Kirkwall over mere ideologies. And don’t even get me started on the Exalted March, just….I can’t follow the Chantry. Things don’t add up for me.”

“…I understand your questioning, even if I wished that you did not turn your back on the Chantry as a result. No organization can be perfect for long, if it can be at all.”

“Of course. I applaud you for having found something that you so deeply care for.”

“And I you for questioning when others have followed blindly.”

It was a start.

6. Doesn’t hate her Voice.

When they got to Horsemaster Dennet’s, Fellassan went off to talk to him and complete some races, and the others were left to hang out outside. Varric glanced around and did a double-take when he saw Velania smirking at…a pile of druffalo dung?

“Velania, what are you thinking?”

She blinked and smiled at him sheepishly. She said, “This is going to sound really childish, but I told my Voice that that giant pile of shit reminds me of him. He can’t come up with a good comeback, which means that yours truly gets a point.”

He raised an eyebrow at her; that did sound really childish. “Is this a normal thing for you two?”

“What, giving each other shit? Absolutely. I’m in the lead right now, but he’s starting to catch up.” Velania grinned at him and tapped her fingertips together in mock deviousness. “Unacceptable.”

“Huh.” Varric shook his head. “You know, Cullen made it seem like you despised your Voice.”

“It’s…” she trailed off, the smile slipping from her face in favor of something more hesitant. “It’s complicated. He’s a pain in the ass, but if he dies from anything else than me irritating him to death, someone’s getting incinerated. Does that make sense?”

He thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Anders and Carver were the same way.”

“Maker, I completely forgot they were Voices. Anders would complain about him all the time.”

Thus commenced a long talk about Voices and how weird the whole setup was.

Varric, being a dwarf and thus having no connection to the Fade, did not have a Voice. He considered it a blessing, to have his mind be completely his own, but he knew it was a big deal to a lot of people. Andraste and Maferath had been Voices, so for a while the Chantry proclaimed Voices to be a sign of who would be another’s end. Over time, that view fell apart in favor of the current idea of Voices merely being someone that the Maker had decided to pair one with for however long both of you lived. From there, the relationship was what one made of it, but usually people were Voices with their long-term spouses, friends, rivals, or siblings. In more tragic cases, like Marian Hawke and her younger sister, one half would die early, and the other would live on with the void of a severed connection and the knowledge that they at least were there for their other half’s life. Some said that it was possible to get another Voice once one’s first had died, but that was the stuff of fairytales and myths. No, Voices were stuck together, no matter how dearly they may have wished to be apart.

Like Velania and her Voice.

“So,” Varric asked, “let me get this straight: they sound differently in your head than how they do out loud? How does that even work?”

Velania shrugged. “I don’t know. My Voice explained it to me as being like how we apparently sound different to ourselves when we talk versus how we sound to other people when we talk. Like, in our heads we sound how we think we sound, which isn’t how we actually sound.”

“…Say that again, but slower.”

“Okay, so, I once had a demon trying to mess with my head by impersonating me and insulting me,” she explained, “but while it sounded kind of similar to how I hear myself, there was still a really foreign voice coming out of it. I think it’s kind of like that. In any case, my Voice says that he didn’t recognize me when we first met.”

That sounded like some bullshit if Varric had ever heard it. “What’s the purpose of that? Dramatic irony?”

“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter, though.” She paused. “We had agreed to not reveal our identities anyway, since there was a high likelihood of us being in the same Circle, and you surely know how the Chantry feels about Templars treating their charges like friends.”

“True, but he still figured out who you were, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Isn’t it only fair that you know who he is, too?”

She sighed, “If he doesn’t want to tell me, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like not knowing stops me from messing with him. I still bring up embarrassing things he said without thinking when we were kids, and he still wonders how on earth I’ve made it this far.” Her lips quirked up as her eyes became distant, and if he didn’t think she’d deny it, Varric would have accused her of speaking fondly. “Whoever he is, he’s stuck with me until the end of the line, and that’s just how it is.”

Varric glanced at Cassandra and Solas, neither of which liked talking about their Voices enough to add anything. They returned his look of consideration, as they were also aware of the secret situation between Cullen and Velania, and they let Velania’s words fall into silence.

Oh, how fun Haven was going to be. Or a headache.

(Probably a headache.)

7. Wanted to belong

The last thing they did before returning to Haven was tracking down the lost druffalo, Druffy. It was probably the most time-consuming task yet, as they literally had no clue where to start looking. Fellassan decided to begin with a high vantage point, see if there were any obvious places (they were looking for a pretty big druffalo, after all), and go from there with Velania and Sachi scouting ahead.

Their last morning before finding Druffy, Varric was looking around when he saw Velania making a weird face. She was gazing into the distance with her eyes slightly narrowed and lips curled into a little smirk.

“Eyebrows,” he asked, “what’s that look for? Do you see something?”

She snapped to attention and shook her head. “No, I was just thinking. ’A worthwhile cause, where people of different talents can come together to make a real difference,’ my Voice called the Inquisition, and so far we’ve hunted several rams and possessed wolves, found a bunch of supply caches, cleared out a single Templar camp, and now we’re…tracking down a druffalo.”

Fellassan shrugged, nonchalant and matter-of-fact. “Is there something wrong with that? These people asked for our help, so that’s what we are going to do. That ‘we’ includes you now, Velania; you’re one of us, no matter what you are or were before. Does that bother you?”

Her brown eyes blinked in surprise, and then she relaxed, her smile growing as she shook her head again.

“No. That doesn’t bother me at all.”

Velania stopped straying from the group during the day not long after. Instead, she asked Solas to teach her some better healing spells, and she consoled him for how she could make improvements to her potion recipes. Cassandra started having her back in battle, and in return she would have Cassandra’s. She joked more with Varric and badgered him about plot holes she had found in his books, and on the rare occasion that she seriously bickered with her Voice, she came to him to judge comebacks before she said them. Sachi wasn’t the security blanket he had been previously, always within an arm’s reach of her, but he still cuddled up to her whenever possible.

And at breakfast every morning on the way back to Haven, Fellassan insisted that Velania sit and let him redo her long braid, and they would always sit in comfortable silence while he worked. When possible, he wove wildflowers into it, and Varric made a mental note that she smiled the most when dandelions were the flower of the day.

Of course, there were still bad days, when Velania would have a rough night and come back to them jumpy and almost trembling, or when she and Cassandra would bicker and she ended up with steam coming out of her ears.

But for each bad day, there were two more good ones, when she made the fire burn as bright as her smile, or when a quick remark was preceded by a sparkle in her eyes that shone brighter than the stars she fangirled about so much. In those days, she grew comfortable and warm with them. Varric learned firsthand how her hugs, albeit rare, were welcoming and always accompanied with a rejuvenation spell and a genuine grin.

It gave Varric hope to see her like that. After all, she had been a good friend of Anders’ once, and he could clearly see the concerning resemblance between their two mindsets, complete with a strong connection to the Fade and the demons residing there. But she wasn’t Anders, and she certainly seemed to enjoy her autonomy too much to even think about letting anything like Justice get to her. What’s more, she seemed dead set on proving every radical Templar and Chantry cleric wrong about mages, and the more time she spent with the group, the more one quote from Cullen kept popping into his head:

“When she puts her mind to something, she’ll find a way to do it, and do it on her own terms.”

Yeah, she’d be fine.

Chapter Text

Velania POV

“I don’t know if I can do this, Varric.”

“Eyebrows, relax. It’s going to be fine.”

Velania anxiously tapped her leg, making barrier upon barrier while the demons screamed at her about how much of a mistake this was. She was in Haven, standing behind the hut that was to be hers, and Varric was staying with her while Fellassan went and got their Spymaster, Sister Leliana. Solas and Seeker Cassandra had gone and unpacked their things like normal so as to not raise any unneeded suspicion, but Velania had missed their presence the moment they had left. Admittedly, the hut was a good couple hundred meters away from the rest of the town, just how she liked, and no one seemed to be carrying pitchforks and torches, but she couldn’t help being nervous. Somewhere around here was Ser Cullen, and the gang was having a field day with that knowledge.

He’s going to find you, Fear whispered. You’ll never be rid of him.

Maybe you should just go climb up a mountain and jump off? Despair suggested. It’s likely your best and only path out of here.

Rage growled, Velania, just let me in, and we can find him and kill him! Get his head on a pike!

“Oh, shut up,” she quietly hissed. Varric gave her a strange look, and her eyes erratically scanned the snow-covered landscape while she growled, “Having demons that try to exploit and amplify every negative emotion is just such a great time, Varric. I would highly recommend it, right after delivering myself to Meredith.” Before she could get too far off in her head, he pinched her hand. “Ow! That hurt!”

“Yeah, it was supposed to. So, do you need to sit and do that meditating thing you did last night? Granted, setting yourself on fire just to get rid of extra energy isn’t exactly inconspicuous, but if it’ll help you calm down…” he trailed off, looking up at her face. “Andraste’s ass, Velania, you look like a scared kid about to ask for my hand.”

She glanced at his hand, and her own twitched, but she didn’t move or say anything. He sighed and lifted his hand up, and she took it gratefully. Sachi nuzzled her face on the opposite side over her shoulder, and she leaned into his fur. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing and blocking out the demons.

She wasn’t even sure why she was suddenly so nervous. Everything was fine. She was fine. Sachi was fine. Her Voice was fine (yes, she checked, and it took ten minutes to get him to stop asking why she was checking if he was okay).

Ser Cullen really wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just another Templar. She had killed countless Templars. But she couldn’t kill him, he was the Commander, and besides, she didn’t really want to kill him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do to him, but killing didn’t quite feel right.

Maybe she was nervous about the number of people, or the idea that she was pretending to be Tranquil. It was only slightly more crowded here than it had been in the Crossroads, and it’s not like she hadn’t pretended to be Tranquil before to avoid suspicion, but the larger population meant she had more people to convince. The biggest group prior had been Fellassan’s clan when they found her and Sachi, not that the Keeper really believed her in the first place, but still, she put on a fairly convincing performance. All she had to do was keep her tone and face blank and blink as little as possible as she did whatever she was told. Easy peasy, and if she remembered the phrase right, lemon squeezy. Oh, and she had to control her mana and keep it close to her. That might cause some issues, but she’d manage. She had this!

“Varric?” asked a lilted, Orlesian voice. Velania quickly let go of Varric, and her eyes snapped open to see a woman with a hood and short red hair coming around the corner of the house, Fellassan following closely behind.

“Sister Leliana, I would like you to meet Velania and Sachi,” the elf said, his amber eyes looking at the woman expectantly. She gave Velania a once-over, and then she gave a small nod.

“Greetings, Velania,” she said. “Though, I believe we met while I travelled with the Hero of Ferelden.”

Velania looked at her face for a moment, and if she imagined a slightly younger version of this woman, she faintly remembered the archer that had Sofia Amell’s back the entire way up the Ferelden Circle. Velania bowed deeply, saying, “I recall Sofia treating you as she would one of us. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Her blue eyes blinked, but otherwise didn’t change. “’One of us?’ I presume you mean a mage.”

Velania nodded. “Some things you can’t go through without becoming like family, the Circles being one of them. It was a compliment.”

“Noted.” She paused, her pink lips having the slightest bit of a smirk. “I must admit, you seem much…calmer than expected. I distinctly remember candles glowing white while a 17-year-old girl, barely out of apprenticehood, spat at a young Templar.”

Velania sighed, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly. “Then you surely remember why I had every right to be upset with Noodle Hair.”

Sister Leliana’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes twinkled with the mischief of one with new blackmail material. “Noodle Hair? Is that what you call our dearest Commander?”

And, as if mentioning him brought his presence forth, Velania heard a voice that brought back so, so many memories.

“Herald! There you are!”

Fuck.

Velania rapidly put a cloaking on herself and prayed to the Maker for strength before he came into view. She could do this. It was just another Templar. She was prepared.

And then he came around the corner. She was not at all prepared.

She wasn’t prepared for how he didn’t glare at everything. His shoulders were back, almost relaxed, where in Kirkwall they had been hunched over, ready to lunge at someone. His mouth was a neutral line instead of that deep scowl.

She wasn’t prepared for how he rolled his eyes but smiled slightly at something Varric said. Velania couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. He was still business, speaking respectfully to Fellassan and Sister Leliana, but there was no trace of a growl or grumble in his tone of voice.

She wasn’t prepared for the sincere lack of Templar imagery. It was the first time she had ever seen him without the Templar skirt, not that she was complaining (why the Chantry had skirts as part of the uniform, she couldn’t say). No flaming sword was to be seen on his chest, an exposed section of armor covering his heart instead. His shoulders were covered with a soft-looking piece of fur where she had expected spiky pauldrons. The lack of spikes in general was a shift all its own. Her old Knight-Captain didn’t seem like he was still Meredith’s little soldier, but a softer, more human individual all his own. It was weird.

But most of all, she wasn’t prepared for how fucking good he looked.

Honestly, it wasn’t fair. She left for four years, and the man suddenly finished puberty! His well-groomed chin showed how he must have finally learned to shave properly. He had some worry lines, but his face no longer looked like that of a zombie, and was that…? It was! He had the audacity to get a scar on his lip to add to his ruggedly handsome look! What the fuck!

And then the reality that she was admiring Cullen fucking Rutherford came crashing down on her shoulders, and she reined that shit in.

Velania hated it. She hated him and his dumb face and his stupidly smooth hair that she really wanted to run her hands through and ruin-

Nope. Stopping that train of thought right now. Absolutely not.

(And if Desire started chanting hate sex, hate sex, hate sex! in the back of her head, well, no one needed to know.)

Beside her, Sachi snorted, which got Noodle Hair’s attention as he finally noticed the giant deer.

“That is…a very big hart,” he said, and Sachi strode up to him and circled him once, twice, thrice before looking him dead in the eye.

Sachi POV

Look at him, Sachi thought. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. The man’s eyes were wide and unsure as he glanced at Sachi’s pet elf.

“Herald? What is it doing?”

“Just hold still. He’s thinking.”

His brow furrowed in a way that, to Sachi, made him look like rather dopey. “…What?”

So this is the man that Velania was so worried about….He’s going to be fun.

Sachi decided that he liked this man and simultaneously pitied him.

Because no one messed with his favorite human and emerged unscathed.

Velania POV

Velania watched in amusement and horror as her beloved hart used his nose to ruffle those golden locks and push Ser Cullen around. Somehow Sachi managed to get that furry mantle off of his broad shoulders, only to drag it through the snow to Velania’s feet.

“Hey!” He said, chasing after him. Sachi let him stoop to pick up the now-soaking material while the hart returned to his place beside Velania. When Ser Cullen straightened, he was standing close enough that Velania could have reached out and touched him, but those amber eyes were too focused on brushing the fur off to see through her cloaking spell. He gave Sachi a dirty look before turning back to Fellassan. “Why did you bring this back?”

While Velania’s temper flared up, Varric shrugged and interjected, “We found him wounded in the Hinterlands, and he wouldn’t leave us alone, Fellassan more so than the rest of us.” Sachi huffed in agreement and moved to nuzzle Fellassan so as to emphasize the point.

Ser Cullen shook his head, started to step away from Velania, and grumbled, “Bloody beast.”

Later, Velania would wonder what made her do it, whether it was old resentment rearing its ugly head or mere protectiveness of her hart, but she reached out and whacked Ser Cullen up the side of his head.

She yanked her hand back as fast as his head whipped around. His eyes searched the seemingly empty air, but they didn’t focus on her. Despite his hand drifting toward his sword, Velania found herself grinning madly. She had missed this, this adrenaline rush she got by messing with him. It was dancing with death, tranquility, whatever, but she didn’t care. She just watched with rapt attention as his face flashed with alarm, curiosity, and then settled into suspicion while he glared at what he thought was nothing. He stepped closer to her, and her heart hammered in her chest as she froze, staring dead ahead at his shoulder.

“You all saw that happen, right?” he called back. “Something hit my head.”

“I didn’t see anything,” said Sister Leliana.

“Me neither,” added Fellassan.

Ser Cullen looked at them incredulously, but turned his head back in her direction to scan again. “So, Velania,” he said, and for a moment she thought he was talking to her and she felt her heart stop. It restarted when he stepped away and looked at Varric and Fellassan, his back now to Velania. “I don’t suppose you, by any chance, found her or encouraged her to join us?”

Fellassan and Varric looked at each other for a split second before Varric explained, “Listen, Curly, I will admit, we found her. She saved our lives from a dragon, actually. But we mentioned you once, just once, and she freaked and sent us away.”

Ah, lying by omission. Velania’s favorite form of deception.

Ser Cullen’s shoulders sagged slightly, something that peaked Velania’s curiosity. “Oh.”

Varric, the little shit, asked, “What would she even do here? The Inquisition isn’t exactly in need of battlemages right now.”

“She’s more than just a battlemage, Varric. She could help with research, or be a scout. Four years is a long time for someone to disappear, and if trying to find her has taught me anything, it’s to never underestimate her abilities and adaptability. She would be a valuable asset to any organization,” he said, crossing his arms, and Velania found herself incapable of little more than staring at him in shock.

He’s lying , the demons hissed. He has to be. Why would he say anything good about you?

But of all the things she had ever called him (which was a long list), a liar had never been one of them. For as long as she had known him, Ser Cullen always told the truth, or what he believed to be the truth. Of course, that meant that he was legitimately praising her to others of his own accord. Velania didn’t know what to do with that.

The Templar sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “With the proper supervision, of course. As much control as she has, Haven is mostly flammable structures.”

And there it was. She was starting to wonder where her old Knight-Captain had gone. He hadn’t started frothing at the mouth yet, but he was still there.

“Fair.” Varric shrugged. “So, what did you need?”

“Oh! Yes, Herald, I merely wanted to ask you what you wanted to do with the extra funds.”

Fellassan thought for a moment. “Let me think about it. I’ll tell you in the war council meeting this evening.”

Cullen nodded, and then Varric managed to get him to accompany him into town.

Desire whispered, Check out his ass, Velania. Do it. Just once.

Absolutely not!

And then, because she apparently wanted to give the demons more teasing material, she looked at Noodle Hair’s ass anyway. She was not disappointed.

Desire cackled, and Velania determinedly looked at the upper portion of that damned Templar’s back until it disappeared from view and Fellassan gave her a thumbs-up. Then she let go of the cloaking spell and took a deep breath of air, feeling a little bit lightheaded.

“Fuck,” she murmured, laying herself down in the snow. “I need to take a minute.”

How is this possible? I only left for four years!

Fellassan walked over and leaned over her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just…I think I’m going to kill Varric. He tells me about the hair, but not…the other stuff? When did the scar happen?!”

“Velania, your hand-talking is getting dangerously close to hitting me in the face.”

“Sorry.” She brought her hands down to the ground. “I’m merely shocked at this development. It would be like if tomorrow Solas suddenly had dreadlocks.” Fellassan made a face. “Yeah, exactly. No one would see it coming, and I…I’ve never seen him in pants before.”

Fellassan looked at her, smirked, and tilted his head. “You think he’s attractive, don’t you?”

“Of course not!” Yes, yes I do, and I hate it. “Are you kidding me? He’s my Knight-Captain!” Please don’t tell anyone.

“Oh? Then why are you blushing?”

“Because….Because I’ve lived in Ferelden so long, their prude society has rubbed off on me, and the mere notion of attraction is something to be discussed behind closed doors.”

“Uh huh.” And then he crossed his arms.

She grabbed a clump of snow and threw it into his face. “Oh, sod off.”

The elf grinned, successfully dodging her attack. “So, how close to you was he after you messed up his hair?”

“Andraste’s knickerweasels, he was right in front of me,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I could smell his leather polish and something lavender-y.”

“Ooo! Do you think he’d let me steal some?”

“Knowing him, you’d have to ask pretty nicely,” Velania laughed. She looked up at the sky and took another long breath, but then her vision was obstructed by a big head with antlers. “Hello, Sachi,” she cooed, smushing his face against hers. “ You, mister, are a little mischievous monster, you know that? Putting that big, grumpy Noodle Hair in his place! I’m so proud of you!”

“Eeeeiii!”

“I love you too, my friend.”

Sister Leliana cleared her throat, and Velania blushed as she got back up.

“Sorry,” she said, raising a tanned hand to rub the back of her neck. “You probably have more important things to do.”

The older woman’s lips twitched while her eyes twinkled mischievously again, but she merely said, “Do not apologize. I found it quite entertaining to watch. Now, this-“ she stepped forward and handed Velania a key. “-is for this cabin here. You should find it has everything you might need inside, along with a little bit of money to hold you over until you get paid at the end of the week. You will start working in the apothecary with Adan tomorrow morning. He works from dawn to dusk each day and will set your hours, but our researcher, Minaeve, may wish to borrow you as she wishes. You are to do as Adan bids you, and if you need something, you may order it from our quartermaster, Threnn, or purchase it from our merchant, Seggrit. Do you have any questions?”

Velania blinked, and then shook her head. “No, miss.”

“I will leave you to it, then. Welcome to the Inquisition.”

………

And thus Velania began her work. On her first day, she almost got lost on the way to the apothecary, which, if she was really Tranquil, probably wouldn’t have happened, so she was kind of worried about keeping up the façade. However, her anxiety ended up being for naught.

Adan was more than a bit of a grump, but she managed. Despite her ‘tranquility’, he treated her like a person, praising her when she had done particularly well and not being a moment late with payment. He may have scowled at her on a regular basis, but he scowled at everyone like that, and Velania relished in that equal treatment.

Minaeve, although stern at times, turned out to be a real sweetheart. When she initially showed Velania where all the research materials were, she introduced herself with a firm, “Hi, I’m Minaeve. I’m in charge of finding more effective ways of defeating our foes in combat. If anyone ever gives you trouble for being Tranquil, come find me and I’ll take care of it.”

Velania never had need to take her up on that offer, but knowing it was an option was already more than she expected.

As far as the actual work went, she loved how busy it kept her while staying interesting over time. There was something to be said about seeing a stack of potion requests decrease as a day went on, just as it was so satisfying to clear out all the traces of enemies that Mineave had collected. Velania got to dissect countless demon remains, and she barely stopped herself from squealing when they received a spellbinder’s book. Unfortunately, it was all in Tevene, so she couldn’t read any of it, but Minaeve was determined to find out what it said as soon as they could locate someone that could translate.

It was a pretty nice setup, being able to learn new potions and battle tactics while still helping out. The most stressful part of her day was having to go past Ser Cullen’s training each morning at dawn, but that was swiftly remedied with a hooded cloak and keeping her head down. He had better things to do than seek her out, it would seem, and as a few weeks of this routine passed without incident, she became more comfortable in it.

That said, Velania’s favorite part of the day was when the sun went down. She missed Sachi’s presence dearly (or, if one prefers, deerly), for he couldn’t follow her if she wanted to remain somewhat inconspicuous. What he got up to during the day, she didn’t know, but each night he waited outside her cabin, antsy to get some exercise. As soon as she had eaten her dinner, she grabbed some alertness potions and painting supplies, locked up, and mounted Sachi, and then they tore through the surrounding forest. Between the mountains and the transition into winter, the air was colder there than in the Hinterlands, but Velania found something about its sharpness to be almost refreshing. Perhaps that was merely because she was a fire mage with the ability to warm up her skin and the skin of those around her, but, hey, she wasn’t complaining. To her, the forest was where she could relax and let all of her emotions and mana out. She painted on random rocks, experimented with potions, and practiced her magic, just as she did back in her clearing with the dragon.

However, unlike her previous dwelling, she sometimes had visitors that were actually welcome. Fellassan came out a couple times a week just to talk and hang out, and Varric would check up on her every now and then. If she had made eye contact with Solas and tried to get his attention during the day, he would find her that night, and he ended up being a well of information when Adan had her start making potions that she wasn’t as familiar with. Cassandra really didn’t visit so much as accidentally stumble upon her one night when she was on a walk, and soon they got to talking about how Velania found the Inquisition so far.

“It’s been good. Pay’s good, hours are good, work and working conditions are good,” Velania told her. “I really can’t complain, though you could probably take away my bed. It would seem that I’ve spent so much time sleeping on the ground that an actual bed is entirely too soft. Besides, Sachi gets lonely if I’m away for a while, so I typically sleep outside anyways.”

Of course, the demons were still pissed about her disobeying them and not giving a single fuck about it, so they did their best to make sure that she didn’t sleep. Well, the joke was on them, because one of the most highly requested potions was the sleeping draught. While she didn’t at all enjoy the idea of becoming dead to the world for a couple hours, she needed sleep to survive, and she had the resources and the knowledge to do so. She would do what she had to, just as she always did.

She settled in to her role with the Inquisition over a matter of weeks, and as Varric had told her so time and time again, she wasn’t bothered by anyone. She just went about her business, and others went about theirs. Ser Cullen didn’t come busting down her door, nor did he ever come close to the apothecary.

She felt safe. The realization hit her like a sack of bricks one afternoon when someone screamed near the tavern and she rightly assumed it was a couple kids playing tag instead of someone being murdered. Nevertheless, she kept as many of her things packed as possible and made sure to take note of all the ways she could leave town, just in case.

After all, if she messed up and someone found out about how she got the scar on her wrist, she’d have to run again.

Cullen POV

The past couple weeks had been…odd, to say the least.

It started when the Herald returned from the Hinterlands and Cullen had that strange interaction with them behind the empty cabin. Despite what Sister Leliana and the Herald said, Cullen knew he hadn’t imagined being hit in the back of the head. However, it would seem that there was nothing to be done about it, and he was forced to move on from the incident.

He tried to focus on his duties and training of the recruits, but as of late, an obstacle had made itself known on several occasions. It wasn’t as common or distracting as his frequent headaches or insomnia, but it was quite irritating.

It was that damned hart.

“That’s a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man were your enemy, you’d be dead!”

The recruit nodded, gave him a concerned look, and went back to training. It was odd, and when Cullen glanced around, he noticed that others were looking at him with confused expressions. He didn’t know what was the matter, but he soon found out as he felt fur brush his ear and-

“EEIIIIIII!!!”

Everyone froze, and Cullen’s mind blanked for a good ten seconds before he glared at the group.

“Did I say you could stop? Keep going!” The recruits looked at each other unsurely. “Now!”

When he turned his head, he bumped his nose into the fuzzy muzzle of the hart. It looked down at him with its big brown eyes, as if to say, ‘who, me? I’m an innocent little cinnamon roll that can do now wrong!’

It took ten minutes for Cullen to shoo it away, and even then, it very clearly ran into the forest when it decided to.

This, much to Cullen’s irritation, became a regular occurrence. The beast would show up at some point throughout his day, do something to cause a disruption, and then leave before it could be caught and dragged to the stables. It knocked over weapon racks, pushed around supply crates, and tried to eat Cullen’s hair. The Templar Order had demanded organization and order, which this was most certainly not. Needless to say, he had a semi-permanent eye twitch whenever the hart got too close to him, and when he returned to his tent one day to find the hart eating the report he had worked all bloody night on— Well, let’s just say that he was internally screaming several, several choice words.

He was going to go insane. He had always expected Velania to be the one to break him, but no, it was going to be this fucking hart.

Night was the only time he consistently had peace, but on one fateful night in particular, he just couldn’t focus on this one report.

With a groan, Cullen threw down his quill in exhaustion. He felt the beginnings of yet another headache, but he couldn’t bring himself to try sleeping. The previous night had been.... bad, to say the least, more so than usual, and he still saw the nightmares every time he closed his eyes.

From his stomach flared that familiar sensation of his Voice spellcasting, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel their bond pulling him toward her. Oddly enough, it soothed him to a certain extent to know that he wasn’t alone at this ungodly hour of the night.

Let’s go take a short walk,  he decided, leaving his tent.  Some fresh air can’t hurt.

He wasn’t sure where exactly to go, so he wandered wherever his feet wanted him to.

Tonight, that was into the forests surrounding Haven, and as he got farther into them, Cullen felt the Voice bond pulling on him more and more. He didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she was nearby.

He felt the current of her magic rush through his veins again, and simultaneously he saw a moment’s flicker of flame in the distance. Cullen stared at in the direction it had been.

And then he stared some more.

And then some more. But the flame did not reappear.

He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.  I am imagining things,  he told himself.  She’s not here. She made her position on joining very clear. She absolutely, completely, 100%-

And then he felt the little zap as he saw the fire appear and disappear again.

A rush of feelings hit him all at once, his stomach dropping out, his heart rate doubling, and above all else, their bond insisting that he see her again.

He wasn’t ready. Maker, he really wasn’t ready. She hated him. He needed to apologize, to try to convince her that he wasn’t a threat, while also not encroaching on her too much...Except he wasn’t really sure how to do that. Granted, he had done it before, as her Voice, but not as himself, in front of her, where she could incinerate him if she felt so inclined.

Maybe it would be best to turn around and go back to those reports.

He tried to walk away, he really did, but somehow his legs always brought him to face the distant flame. After a solid 5 attempts, Cullen accepted that the bond would not be ignored after 4 years of separation.

Sighing, he took the first step forward, and the change was immediate. The tension made by the bond’s demanding dissipated, not quite completely, but to an extent that it was only noticeable if one acknowledged it. As a test, Cullen took a step away, and sure enough, the bond tightened again, making him stumble forward a few steps.

You are seeing her whether you like it or not,  it seemed to say,  and you’re hopefully not going to make things worse.

Not that that was a particularly high bar to start with. Still, he had to try, didn’t he?

And thus he became like a moth drawn to his Voice’s flames, gravitating nearer and nearer to her. The light disappeared and reappeared for moments at a time, but the pull of their bond never faltered. Eventually he got close enough that he could see her shadow moving through the trees, as well as that of—

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

It was the bloody hart.

Of course it’s hers, he deadpanned. The hart that has been harassing me is hers, because whose else would it be?

But before Cullen could thoroughly consider the implication that his Voice had been right under his nose for weeks and he hadn’t had a clue, he noticed the moonlight glinting off the hart’s eyes as it looked straight at him. His Voice, however, had yet to notice him, and for the first time in four long years, Cullen heard her speak.

“Sachi, look!” she said. “I’m going to try it again, and this time I’m going to get it.”

“Pphh.”

“Yes, I know I said that the last four times, but now I really, really, really mean it.”

The hart snorted and turned away. Cullen followed, hesitant. Was this really happening? Was she really here? He stuck to shadows the best he could, not wanting to scare her off before he could be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But as she conjured up a flame, he laid eyes upon her, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It really was her.

She was facing away from him, stretching while fire twisted with her movements. Her brown hair had always been pinned up in the Circles, but that was no longer the case. Instead, it poured down her shoulders in waves, longer and more unruly than he had ever seen it. Also gone were the mages’ robes, for she now wore a loose tunic and breeches. He watched as she reached out with both hands, forming a bird of fire.

“Alright, Sach,” she murmured, “Ready? Here we go.”

Cullen felt the familiar flicker of flames in his stomach before he saw her hands move. She wasn’t using a staff, and her motions flowed in a natural manner that went against every Circle’s stiff technique. It spoke of hours spent practicing until it became muscle memory, and despite it seeming so different from her training, the instinctual feel of it was so  her.

Speaking of feelings, the bond had let go of him completely. The Maker was probably watching him carefully, going, ‘I got you this far. You have to fix your own mistakes.’ Cullen could turn around and walk away if he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

Instead he reveled in how it felt to be near her again, mana flowing through the air and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Her voice sailed on the wind, that Antivan accent even more diluted than he remembered. He had forgotten that she had a presence all her own, a way of commanding all attention to herself, and he found himself enraptured as she moved without faltering. The fire made her brown hair and tan skin glow as she pushed it through the air, doing something evidently complicated as she moved her fingers methodically. The fire-bird burst forth, sailing away into the trees. Cullen heard a river of excited Antivan obscenities emerge under her breath as she worked, and the swearing turned into a gasp when the bird started flapping its wings as naturally as though it were alive.

“Sachi,” she breathed. “ Sachi. ”

The hart nuzzled her from behind her shoulder, making a low rumbling before snorting.

“Hold on, I want to try something.”

She stuck out an arm and pivoted, and the bird turned with her arm’s movements, still moving fluidly. She made it come back around and then loop around her. As she turned, Cullen caught a glimpse of her focused face and bright eyes, before she faced back her initial direction.

The bird came to land on her outstretched hand, and she murmured, “I did it....I made a bird move like an actual one...fuck yES!” She giggled, shedding embers as she fist-pumped the air.

Masking Cullen’s amused huff, the hart snorted, and the mage put a hand on her hip and looked at it.

“What, did you think the timing was off?”

“Bppphhh.” It shook its head.

“That’s what I thought. I know it seems relatively simple, but there’s a big difference between simply chucking a fireball versus shaping and directing it in a specific manner.”

Cullen found himself shaking his head in disbelief.  She’s here. She’s really here.  Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he couldn’t even tell how much of it was from her spell and how much was from his own emotions. In spite of everything that had happened, she was happy  and here  and still experimenting  with magic despite knowing next to nothing about magical theory. He had never expected that.

But, then again, his Voice had never failed to surprise him.

Hopefully she would surprise him again, if he was really going to try to talk to her. He half expected her to merely incinerate him in a second, but if she really had been in Haven for weeks, she probably would have done so long ago.

Gathering his courage, he cleared his throat and called her name.

“Velania?”

Her head shot up, and Cullen’s stomach dropped out when her eyes found his and narrowed. The smile dropped from her face, replaced by a hard line. Her posture slowly changed from excited and bunched up to cool and open. Cullen wasn’t quite sure whether she was going to stay there or launch herself at him.

“Well,” she enunciated, “the next time you see Varric, tell him he owes me ten sovereigns.”

“What?”

She ignored him, instead looking at the hart and nodding her head to the forest around them. It trotted off into the shadows, but Cullen could hear it sniffing the air every few seconds. Velania started talking to him again. “They really underestimate you out here, don’t they? I mean, no one expected you to find me, but you’re a Templar, not an idiot. There is a difference, even if the line blurs, more so in some individuals than others…”

She was talking about him, wasn’t she?

Velania continued, “So, before you try to kill me, tell me, how the fuck does your hair-“

“I’m not going to kill you. I actually want to apologize,” he interjected. “Wait, why do you want to know about my hair?”

She looked at him like he had grown two heads. “Why do you want to apologize?”

“Because I was terrible to you?” he said, wondering why this was even a question. “I made extremely negative generalizations about mages based on the actions of individuals. I blamed you for what happened in Ferelden when you didn’t have anything to do with it. In Kirkwall you came to me to try to convince me that Meredith was insane and things were only going to get worse, but I didn’t listen.”

“…But you don’t apologize,” she said, eyebrows scrunching together, and Cullen flinched at her sincerity. “Name one time you’ve said you’re sorry.”

Cullen opened his mouth.

“ After Uldred happened.”

He thought for a moment, then closed his mouth.

“Exactly.”

Cullen took a step closer but stopped when she backed away. He said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Velania, I was wrong and I’m incredibly sorry.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, her shoulders rising defensively. “You’re being weird.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you should know that I’m not going to hurt you in any way.”

“ Templar- “

“You should also be aware that I’ve left the Order and have no intention of ever returning.”

“Maker’s fucking breath, stop! You can’t just say things like that!” Velania burst out. Cullen might have pushed things a bit too much, if the flames surrounding her talking hands were any indication. “You don’t get to just waltz in here and say sorry and suddenly think everything’s okay!”

“I don’t think it’s suddenly okay,” he tried to explain. “That’s why I’m telling you that you don’t have to forgive me!”

She took a step away, and it was with a sinking feeling in his chest that he could see her locking herself up. This was not going how he wanted it to. “Why are you being so nice ? This isn’t how this was supposed to go! You were supposed to be a grouch and try to kill me, and I was supposed to run away like I always do!”

“But I’m not going to kill you!”

“And that’s weird!”

Cullen suppressed the urge to sigh. “Velania-“

“No.” She shook her head and muttered, “I’m dreaming. The demons are messing with me again. Maybe I’ve eaten something. This can’t be happening.”

“But-“

“SACHIII!”

And then she just…took off. Fade-stepped away and left Cullen in darkness. He stared after her and called her name, but she didn’t reappear from the shadows. There was the faint sound of hoofsteps, and then nothing but the howling of the wind.

And Cullen thought two things to himself:

1) What on earth just happened?

2) How did I get into this situation?

However, he knew the answer to the latter; it had been all his fault.

Chapter Text

When Cullen was about nine years old, Mia and Branson found out they were Voices, and Mia wouldn’t rest until Cullen tried to contact his Voice. She was hoping that he and little Rosalie were Voices, so that as long as one from each pair stayed together, the others were sure to be close by. Their family would be united throughout their lives. Mia was so determined to get him to do it, in fact, that she promised to do all of Cullen’s chores for a week if he succeeded.

Of course, Cullen jumped at that offer, and thus spent an entire day alone on the dock on Honnleath’s nearby pond, trying to contact his Voice. Emphasis on trying . He didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like when he succeeded. Was he supposed to talk in his head like when he prayed? Would audibly shouting work? Was he even doing anything when he tensed his muscles, or did he just look constipated? How was he supposed to ‘reach out with his mind,’ or whatever rubbish Mia had told him? And, Maker, why was it so hard?

By the time Mia came to collect him for dinner, he had given up and was just angrily skipping stones. Of course, Mia wouldn’t have any of it.

“Could you walk when you first stood up?” she asked him, hands on her hips. He shook his head. “No, you couldn’t, not until you practiced and practiced and practiced. According to the book I got for my birthday, opening the Channel is a muscle, just like walking or lifting things. If you practice enough, you’re bound to get it, okay? Do you want to try again?”

He did want to try again (after all, a week without chores was still on the line), so he sat down once again. This time, he didn’t know what he did, but he felt something shift in his mind. It could only be described as a sort of click, of something sliding into place and staying there until he released the trigger. In his excitement, several words flooded through his mind that, if he had said them out loud, would have had him practically dining on soap for the next three meals. He was scared to even breathe for fear of messing something up, so before he could ruin the moment, he called out:

Hello? Is someone there?

But there was no response. He waited with bated breath, and nothing happened.

Ugh, I knew this was stupi-

¿Hola? ¿Quién es?

He gasped audibly. Suddenly, Cullen physically felt like someone was tying him up and binding him before a warmth settled over his body, like a really off-putting hug that dissipated a bit every second. He looked at Mia in alarm, but her eyes were shining as she rapidly gestured for him to keep going.

Um, hello. I-uh-I take it you aren’t my little sister.

¿Qué dice? They asked confusedly. It sounded like a girl’s voice. ¿No sabe antivano?

“What are they saying?” Mia asked.

“I don’t know, I can’t understand it!”

His sister blinked. “Your Voice doesn’t know Common?”

“It doesn’t seem like it. Let me ask.”

Do you speak Common? The Common tongue?

¡Común! ¿Sabe común? No lo sé, lo siento.

Cullen shook his head at Mia. “Definitely doesn’t know Common.”

“Well, keep talking, and maybe they’ll say something like a country name.”

Yo necesito ir. Adios.

There was a pinching sensation in the back of his head as the Channel slid shut, and just like that, Cullen’s first ever conversation with his Voice was over. His heart hammered in his chest, terrified, and at the same time, the boy felt that something within the world had locked into place, like perfectly fitting a piece into a puzzle. His feet were light, so light he thought he could have flown into the heavens. He had a Voice, someone he and he alone could talk to whenever he wished. Cullen’s little mind was blown.

But more importantly...

“I DON’T HAVE TO DO CHORES FOR A WEEK! YES!”

And thus Cullen’s life became intertwined with another’s. They didn’t talk very often, a biweekly basis at most, but Cullen was more occupied with figuring out where in Thedas his Voice was.

(He also started feeling a buzzing sensation in his stomach a lot. It was new, but when he asked Mia, she told him he probably just ate something weird and didn’t need to worry about it.)

A few months later, a travelling Antivan merchant couple had gotten lost and ended up in Honnleath, and when Cullen heard them speaking in their native tongue, he found he recognized the sound of the language. He raced home, burst into Mia’s room, and panted, “My Voice was speaking Antivan. How far away is Antiva?”

Their parents came to see what the problem was, and once Cullen calmed down and told them why he was running in the house, they shared a sad look and brought him to the town’s library to look at some old maps.

Antiva turned out to be pretty far away.

...........................................

Some years passed, and Cullen left home to start his Templar training. He and his Voice talked on a weekly basis despite their language barrier. Well, perhaps it was less of a conversation and more of each saying things just for the sake of saying them. Cullen didn’t mind their odd arrangement; in fact, he found it rather comforting. He may have been in an unfamiliar environment, the only physical semblance of home being a lion Branson had carved out of wood with Cullen’s initials on the bottom, but his Voice was there through it all. He even picked up some Antivan words from her from time to time, like one night, when:

-And then we had to return to the dormitories, and here we are, he finished.

¿Dormitorios? She curiously asked, followed by fake snoring noises.

Yes! Dormitories!

¡Dormitorios!

Each time felt like they were curing the Blight, or something equally amazing. Occasionally they tried repeating the other’s word for something, and it always lead to laughter as each butchered the foreign tongue. Cullen never expected anything more than the little interactions, but as his Voice would many times over in the future, she surprised him.

One day, less than a year into his training, she sounded anxious as she called, ¿Hola? ¿Puedes hablar conmigo?

I’m here. What is it?

There was a pause, and then...

Hello, my Voice.

Her pronunciation was a bit off, but Cullen had heard worse.

You’re learning Common, aren’t you? He excitedly said. That’s really good, because I looked at an Antivan dictionary the other day, and you have so many tenses, and-

My Voice, she interjected, the sweat-drop expression audible. Slow. Please.....un momento.... I... I... dictionary.....here.... Need......to say..... Cullen heard her take a deep breath. I...mage.

What? What do you mean, ‘I mag-‘ And then Cullen got it. Oh. Oh .... I....I Templar.

.....oh.

Oh indeed. They didn’t talk until the next week, and it wasn’t the same, both parties being more reserved.

Neither of them seemed to know how to proceed, far too aware of the rules surrounding mage-Templar friendships. Cullen thanked the Maker that their language barrier had prevented them from properly introducing themselves. If they were put in the same Circle, as mage-Templar Voices often were, and people found out about them, they’d be separated. Depending on the circumstances, his Voice might even be deemed too open to corruption and made Tranquil, and he might be discharged from the Order.

So, when his Voice suggested that they swear to never talk about names and personal things, and to keep this solely in their minds, Cullen jumped to agree.

A little over 4 years and the end of Cullen’s training passed, and his Voice became practically fluent in Common. Their relationship had flourished again in the presence of their promise, both deciding that keeping this constant in their lives would be good for them.

Seeing as he still had the occasional buzzing in his stomach, and it didn’t show up until their first conversation, he asked her about it one day. After some experimentation, they determined that it happened every time she did magic, and it increased in intensity when her spells became more powerful. They made another agreement, that she would warn him before doing anything drastic, and he would tell her if she ever really hurt him.

She helped him study for his final exams, taking it upon herself to learn the material just so she could quiz him at random times of the day. However, the ‘random’ part had to stop after she startled him so bad one afternoon that he fell out of his chair in the middle of class. (She thought it was hilarious. Cullen, having had to scramble for a plausible excuse for his mentor and his fellow recruits, most certainly did not see the humor in it.)

Taking the actual exam was both better and worse with her there. She apparently had study hall during it, so he was able to nervously vent to her in the hours prior. He made the mistake of talking to her in the middle of his exam, also anxiously.

What on earth am I supposed to do first in the face of a sloth demon?

....Do you want me to actually answer that for you, or are you really that determined not to cheat even a little bit?

He was tempted... but no, his mother raised him better than that . He responded, No cheating.

Well then, you better not be asking me, right?

Cullen stared at the question. Then he stared at it some more. ....I know this! I do! But then why can’t I remember?!

His Voice soothed, Because you’re stressing out so much about taking the test itself that you can’t think straight for this one question. Take a deep breath, my Voice. We drilled this material all of last night. You’ve got this, and when you pass with flying colors and become an amazing Templar, you’ll thank me for the support. You’ll also hopefully get some sleep for once, but that’s neither here nor there.

...Do you really mean that?

What, that I want you to get some sleep for once instead of staying up studying? Absol-

He almost rolled his eyes, but that wouldn’t be smart in a public place. No, the part about me being an amazing Templar.

He could hear the grin as she said , You know how to take care of us while not treating us like wild animals. Any Circle would be absolutely blessed to have you.

Cullen finished the rest of the test with a fuzzy warm feeling in his chest, and when he was informed that he had indeed passed, his Voice was the first person he told.

See? she said . I was right. Again. You’re welcome, my Voice.

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Thank you, he said falsely begrudgingly, only to drop the tone a moment later . I need to write home and tell them. What are you going to do tonight?

She sighed heavily. Huge magical theory test coming up. I’m about 87 different kinds of fucked if I can’t memorize these glyphs and runes in the next two days.

That’s too bad. Don’t overwork yourself, alright?

Oh, look who’s talking. You go enjoy the night off, Templar Knight.

He got his official assignment as well as his first vial of lyrium not long after, and then he was off to Kinloch Hold. It wasn’t until he got there that he learned that there were two female mages there that had transferred from the Antivan Circle some years ago. One of these mages was Sofia Amell.

Sofia Amell was everything Cullen hoped his Voice would be--smart, funny, kind, beautiful, and talented. She worked well with her fellow apprentices and helped those that struggled. Her smile lit up a room, and her laugh echoed in Cullen's mind for hours. The girl was fluent in Antivan and Common, and she was learning Tevene and Elven. She was studying to become a spirit healer, and when she and Enchanter Wynne were together, they exuded a great, welcoming energy. It took less than a week to convince Cullen that she had to be his Voice, the ever-encouraging person at his side. By the end of his first month at the Circle, Cullen had to admit that he was completely, utterly, and hopelessly smitten with her. Even her name sounded like a song, a blessing upon the earth. Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. She was absolutely perfect.

And then there was the other Antivan transfer.

"VELANIA!" He banged on her door, not for the first time that morning. Honestly, she had been a full mage for barely a week, and it was like she thought the rules didn't apply to her anymore. "You're going to be late for roll call again if you don't get out here right now!"

"One minute, please!"

One minute wouldn't do. "Velania," Cullen warned, "I'm going to give you to the count of three, and then I'm going to come in."

"I said a minute!"

"You said that the first time I made my rounds today. One."

"Well, now I mean it!"

"Two." No interruptions this time, just a faint scratching of a quill moving quickly. "Three!" Cullen burst into the room to see the mage jump and accidentally jerk the quill across a page of parchment. She made a noise of despair as she surveyed the damage to her writing, but he really wasn't paying attention since--"What in Andraste's pyre happened in here?"

It looked like a tornado had whipped through the room, with papers strewn all over the place and...was that ink on the ceiling? Cullen picked up one of her papers off from the floor and looked at it, but it was all written in messy Antivan.

The mage plucked the paper out of his hands and put it on her desk. She led the way out the door, saying, "Good morning to you, too, Ser Cullen. Nothing happened; I just got a little excited when I had a breakthrough last night."

He ran in front of her, stopping her. Upon further inspection, he saw that she had dark circles under her eyes. "But, you were asleep," he said. "I checked on you."

"Yes, you did." She yawned and continued, "But I knew you wouldn't like it if I stayed up. I will say, you almost caught me the third time. Guess I'm just better at not getting caught and pretending to be asleep than you are at catching me." And then she sleepily patted him on the head and kept walking.

In case you missed that: she patted him. On the head .

Cullen shook his head. "So, what exactly was this revelation you had?"

"Well, I've been tracking the trends of the...the..." Velania trailed off, gesturing vaguely. "What do you call them? The opposite of the sun, we have two of them-"

He raised an eyebrow. "The moons?"

"Yeah, those; we call them las lunas," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Anyway, I've been tracking their movements in relation to the sun's movements, and if I'm right, then I think we're in the right spot to experience a total solar eclipse!" She looked up at him as if he was supposed to be jumping for joy. In reality, he was just happy she was still moving. At this point, everyone else was already in the main hall, leaving them two alone in the hallways. Knight-Commander Greagoir wasn't going to like this.

His charge still awaited his response. He deadpanned, "Is a solar eclipse something important in Antiva?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, spoilsport, I suppose it's not that amazing of a thing. But you know what is?" Velania gave him that expectant look again, and he gave her a dry look. She excitedly continued, "Being able to predict when it's going to happen. No one in Thedas, or at least no one that I know of, has been able to get even the month right, and I'm sure it's going to be next month, all of my research says so, and if I can get it down to the week, or maybe even the day, then it'll be...I don’t know what it’ll be, but it’ll be something ! And, aside from that, it’s a bloody total solar eclipse! We might not be able to see another from here for decades!”

He sighed, “Velania, you’re making the torches grow again.”

Her brown eyes flashed at him. She snapped, “Well, excuse me . I’m just trying to find some fun amid the lifelong imprisonment, but no, my bad. Sorry for inconveniencing you with my wish to not want to die of sodding boredom…” With that, she huffed and crossed her arms, grumbling in Antivan before falling silent.

They were halfway through the second floor when Cullen’s conscious took the form of Mia and started scolding him. Cullen Stanton Rutherford , it yelled at him, you know better than to behave like that! And to a lady, too! Didn’t your own ruddy Voice tell you to treat your charges like people? What would she say if she could see you acting like this, huh? She’d tell you to forget what the Chantry told you about them and apologize, is what she’d say.

Of course, there never was any arguing with an angry Mia.

“I apologize,” he murmured.

Velania merely side-eyed him before looking ahead. “I don’t think I quite caught that.”

“I apologize,” he repeated.

“Hmmm, maybe just a liiiitle bit louder?”

“I apologize!” The side of her lips quirked up, and she blinked at him in a silent I’m listening . He continued, “If you really think you’re on to something with your predictions, I can ask Greagoir and Irving if they would allow you to get some astronomy books from the Enchanters-only section. Who knows, maybe they’ll let you go to the roof and watch the eclipse-“

The Antivan grabbed him by the wrist and doubled their pace to the stairs. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m planning on spending most of today in the library with Anders anyway, so you can pass me off to Ser Wilhelm.” She side-eyed him knowingly and gave her signature, wolfish grin. “Which, if I remember correctly, will leave you open to go assist supervision for Sofia’s demonstration of nature magic for the newest apprentices.”

Aaaaand she’s back, Cullen thought to himself. He took back his wrist and hid his blushing with a hand, or, well, tried to, but if Velania’s wagging eyebrows were anything to go by, he epically failed.

Then the day began, and true to his word, Cullen did speak to the heads of the Circle the first chance he got.

“Library permission, yes,” the Knight-Commander said. “But she’s not going to watch this eclipse, if there even is going to be one. Solar eclipses are supposed to be very dangerous to the eyes, and we can’t have anyone going blind if we can help it.”

Of course, Velania wasn’t too happy about that, but she took what she could get and threw herself into her research. There were several occasions on which Cullen walked past her room on his curfew patrols and saw a light from under the door.

“Velania, go to bed.”

“No can do, I almost have this.”

“I will take all of your candles.”

“You do know I’m a fire mage, right?”

It was a long month until the eclipse.

Oh yes, she was right about the eclipse, much to her excitement. Her prediction of the day was wrong, but she was spot-on with the week and time of day. The mage even located two crystals dark enough that, when tested during the monthly exercise outside, let her look at the sun without getting hurt.

“Don’t worry,” she had told him. “I know I don’t have permission to go up to the roof during the eclipse.”

Contrary to popular belief, Cullen wasn’t stupid; he knew she was going to sneak up there. He knew also knew that she carried those crystals around the entire week of the eclipse.

When the moment happened, the Circle was eating lunch when the windows suddenly darkened. Since Anders had misbehaved yet again and was confined to his room for the day, Velania sat alone near the dining hall doors. Cullen approached her as soon as he saw the realization and excitement cross her face, but, alas, she was out of her seat faster than he could follow. In hindsight, he should have stood where he quickly could use a purge on her in anticipation that she’d use haste spells. As the events took place, Cullen barely had time to blink between seeing her get up, feeling a hand tap his armor as his body locked up with a freezing spell, and a murmured, “it’s nothing personal.” Then she was gone and the door swung shut. Cullen could barely move his eyes, and with more than a bit of fear, he saw Greagoir approaching quickly.

“Ser Cullen, why did you let her go?” He demanded.

“Hmphhh!”

The Knight-Commander reached out and poked Cullen, and much to Cullen’s dismay and embarrassment, he fell over rather comically.

With a muttered curse and instructions for newly-full-mage Sofia Amell to defrost poor Cullen, Greagoir sprinted out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, Greagoir returned and told Cullen two things: 1) Velania was going to be the death of the Knight-Commander, and 2) Cullen didn’t need to worry about watching her for the next two weeks. Apparently when she was found on the roof and Greagoir insisted on her coming down, she stepped off of the roof. She was fine, Greagoir assured everyone, because she had grabbed onto a rope that Anders had made out of his bedsheets and flung out of his small window with the intent of being able to pull her inside. Now the two of them were sitting in solitary, and Cullen was utilizing every bit of willpower he had to not run down there and shake Velania as he asked her what on earth she had been thinking.

In those days, Cullen’s time was mostly taken up by keeping her out of trouble. She was just so frustrating, and nothing at all like her fellow Antivan! In terms of physical appearance, Sofia Amell was Cullen’s age and as tall as most men, if not taller, with straight blonde hair coming down to her waist and eyes the most beautiful shade of caramel. Velania, on the other hand, was two years younger and only came up to Cullen’s chin, and her brown hair was almost always tied into a tight, low bun where it wasn’t in the way of her matching dark eyes.

Where Sofia was careful and cautious, Velania would shrug and go ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ and then accidentally blow up something. Sofia had just enough mana to control her magic safely, but if Velania sneezed hard enough, candles became torches and fireplaces became large bonfires. That said, Sofia was more inclined toward stable elements, like earth and ice, and while she was certainly fantastic at those, she had nothing on Velania when it came to fire. No one did. Flames flowed like rivers under Velania’s command, coming to her aid as easily as she breathed, and few things were more entertaining and endearing than watching a bunch of young apprentices tug at her robes and beg her to show them how to change the color of fire.

As for his relationship with his Voice, things really couldn’t have been better. They always spoke right before lights out, and despite Cullen thinking that his crush and his Voice were one and the same, chatting through the Channel felt so much more comfortable than the soul-crushing experience that was actually trying to talk to Sofia. Their conversations were usually filled with teasing back and forth, with actual care underlying everything.

So, now that you’re in an actual Circle, how do you like it? Is all that perfectionism and technique-drilling paying off, or was I right when I said that you could get by with an average skillset?

I’m not going to answer that second part-

So I was right.

-and it’s been fine.

…Just ‘fine’? Out with it, Templar, is someone giving you trouble or not?

A few individuals, yes, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Not everyone can be model charges like you.

From her end came a choked noise. You’re kidding, right? Did you miss all the times I barely passed a magical theory test? Not to mention, I am staying up long after bedtime just to chat, and I think nothing of it. You’d be surprised how little ‘model charge’ applies to me.

Cullen laughed, Fair point.

It was a strange existence, being a full Templar, but Cullen found it rewarding and, often due to Velania’s antics, pretty challenging. The mild chaos of each day and the long talks of each night just served to make every moment all the more memorable. For a time, Cullen was happy.

Then everything started crumbling down.

First, the Knight-Commander found out that Cullen had smuggled Branson’s lion in with him, thus breaking the no-personal-items rule, and so the last physical memory of home was confiscated. It wasn’t long after that that the Blight started, and the Grey Warden came to the Circle. Then Sofia was taken away to become a Warden without even being able to say goodbye, and later news of King Cailan’s defeat at Ostagar spread throughout Ferelden.

The tipping point was Teyrn Loghain taking control of the country, and on the other side of that point was Uldred’s lot.

The less said about those days, the better. They were too dark, too painful, too loud to dwell upon.

Later, Cullen wouldn’t be able to recall just how it felt to have every fiber of his being in utter agony, save for when the demons decided to remind him in his sleep. The memories became a haze of no and wrong and please, please stop, Maker, make it stop , until they were interrupted by the return of Sofia, thank the Maker.

The woman he thought to be his Voice came bursting into the room where he was being imprisoned, and she wasn’t alone. With her came Wynne and Velania, as well as two others: a red-haired woman, and a man with brown hair. The group closed the door as soon as they opened it, holding it shut with their bodies while Sofia froze it in place.

Oddly enough, Cullen didn’t feel the buzz in his stomach as she performed the spell. She was his Voice; he was supposed to feel something, right?

The door shook as creatures on the other side beat against it, but they eventually gave up and left the door alone. Velania was the first one to notice his presence, weakly dropping to her knees on the other side of his prison.

“Oh, Ser Cullen,” she whispered in horror, “what did they do to you? Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of there, okay?”

But the damage done to him left his mind cracked, and in his brief interaction with the group he lashed out like a wild animal, even at his precious Sofia. Once he determined they weren’t demons trying to trick him, he urged them to purge the entire Circle.

“There are good people here!” Sofia argued. “They are my family!”

“They are maleficar and abominations that need to be killed, every last one!” he shot back, and he didn’t miss how Velania recoiled from his harsh voice. Everyone looked at him like he was crazy, and maybe it was a bit extremist, but it was also entirely necessary for the good of the Circle.

Sofia ignored him, instead handing out lyrium potions and healing potions. When she turned to Velania, the younger mage shook her head.

“You lot go ahead,” she said, eyes hardened. “I’m getting Ser Cullen out of that thing if it’s the last thing I do.”

Wynne spoke up, “Defeating Uldred should have the same effect.”

But the pyromancer merely shook her head again. “With all due respect, Wynne, I don’t care. Sofia, if you really need me, set the door to upstairs on fire, and I’ll come running. Otherwise, I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

The spirit healer frowned, but said nothing more. Sofia ascended the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber, but at the top she hesitated. “Velania, what if I don’t-“

“It’ll be okay, Sofia.” Velania placed a firm hand on Cullen’s prison, not even wincing as it tried to throw her own power back at her. “Now, stop wasting time and go show them what we Antivans are made of!”

The older Antivan nodded. “Buena suerte, mi hermana.”

“Buena suerte.”

The group left, and the Templar and his charge were left alone. He didn’t think for a second that Velania truly intended to free him. As she tried and failed to free him, he hurled accusations of blood magic at her, and when she didn’t give him any regard aside from the odd pitying look, he got louder.

“DIRTY CONSPIRATOR!”

“Ser Cullen!” she hissed, her wide eyes shifting to the door. “Keep it down! Do you want demons to come running in here?”

“WHY NOT? THEY’VE ALREADY TAKEN OVER THE ENTIRE MAKER-FORSAKEN TOWER!” Overhead, thunder cracked and battle cries echoed against the walls. The fight had begun.

However, Cullen had been feeling the pulses of energy from his Voice since the group left. Why was he just now able to hear the battle, when it should have started several minutes ago?

Velania’s panicked mutterings brought him back out of his head. “Please don’t bring the demons here! For me, if for no one else!” She had stopped trying to free him, now focused on silencing him. The buzz in his stomach from his Voice had also ceased, despite the upstairs noises raging on.

“WHY WOULD I OBEY THE WISHES OF A FILTHY BLOOD MAGE?”

On their floor, booming footsteps rapidly approached the room. Whatever the creatures were, they were strong enough to send a shockwave through the floor when they slammed against the sealed door. Velania turned away from Cullen with a gasp, but he kept on yelling.

The monsters hit the door again, and this time the doorframe cracked.

It was with a frustrated shake of her head and tears in her eyes that Velania stood up and stood opposite the door. Her hands shook with both terror and power, and as they rose into a ready position and began to glow, Cullen felt the buzz start in his stomach again.

He started to have an awful, horrible, absolutely miserable realization about his Voice.

The door burst into fragments as 4 abominations smashed into it. Shards of ice flew toward Velania, but she didn’t move. Instead, Cullen watched as she pumped out multiple fireballs, all of which hit their targets, before ducking under their outstretched claws. She picked up a larger chunk of ice and stabbed one, two, three of her attackers before impaling and felling the last. Her staff lay discarded on the floor before she snatched it up as well, and with it she created a mind blast that stunned the abominations. Velania struck as fast as was humanly possible, bashing each monster’s body in until she was covered in their red-black blood. When all four were killed, their corpses ignited with a wave of the wooden staff, and the fight was over.

Cullen, however, was having a crisis all on his own.

From the moment that Velania had shot off that first fireball, Cullen had been paying close attention to her movements. Each flicker of flame, every little boost in physical power that she gave herself, had been exactly in time with the shocks that Cullen received from his Voice.

Oh. Fuck.

He had been wrong. He had been so, so wrong.

Chapter Text

Cullen later wouldn’t be able to recall how he was freed and brought down to the first floor. His memories cut from gaping up at Velania (his Voice!!!) from his prison to arguing with the Knight-Commander in the foyer. Sofia and that brown-haired man were speaking with Irving, and Velania was watching with the rest of the mages.

“Any one of them could be another blood mage! We can’t risk a repeat of what happened here; we need to clear any doubts we have about the safety of the Circle,” Cullen loudly said.

He glanced at the cluster of robed figures, and as the mages worriedly looked at each other, Velania stepped to the front. She looked him dead in the eyes, spread out her limbs, and made a barrier in line with her body, separating the mages from the others. With a determined expression, she said, “The only one endangering the safety of the Circle is you. No one else is getting hurt, Templar; you’ll have to get through me to do it.”

“You?” he scoffed, walking closer to look down at her. He sent a purge through his finger as he poked her in the chest and said, “As if that will be difficult.”

Her body visibly sagged as he disrupted her spell, and then the barrier fell. She made a shocked noise in her throat. The torches in the hall flared up, their blazes mirroring the fire in Velania’s eyes.

“Both of you-“ Irving started to say.

And then she slapped Cullen across the face.

The sound echoed through the hall, and for a moment there was a stunned silence. It was broken by Irving’s sharp bark of “ Velania! ” and Greagoir’s armor simultaneously clanking as he rushed to stand between them. Wynne grabbed Velania’s arms and held them behind her back. The younger mage didn’t try to resist; she merely glared at Cullen as she was pulled out of the room.

Apparently, his stinging skin wasn’t enough to convince Cullen to leave well enough alone. He growled, “Had to stretch up for that, did you?”

“You’ve sunken low enough for me to reach!” she spat, and then the door closed behind her.

…….

A week passed after Sofia’s departure from the Circle, and Velania and Cullen were being kept separate at all times, except for meals. Yet, almost as if he hadn’t messed things up with her enough, he somehow found a way to dig a deeper hole for himself during breakfast one morning.

Um, sorry to ask this in case you’re busy, but can you just talk to me? She said to him. A decade later, he would look back and sadly think that she had turned to her Voice for comfort, some sense of normalcy, but at the time?

Not a single trace of comfort was to be garnered from him.

No, he spat. Why would I want to talk to you, Velania?

Across the room, he saw her freeze mid-bite, her back to him. You know who I am. You’re here....I swear, I’m not an evil person-

Yes, you are. You and almost every mage in this room. Greagoir should have done the Rite of Annulment and saved us the trouble of dealing with you lot later.

Her voice got quieter and more confused. I....I don’t understand... Why are you being like this? This isn’t you, Templar, this isn’t you at all-

You don’t know anything about me! He roared, glowering at the back of her head as she started trembling. You are a worthless, lying, immoral piece of scum. I never want to speak to you like this again. We should have stopped a long time ago.

But-But I thought-

And then he drove the last nail in the coffin.

You thought what? That we were friends? Don’t make me laugh. I would never be friends with a mage, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

Her chair scraped against the floor as she got up, head down, and ran out of the room. Cullen made to go after her, but was stopped by an angry Greagoir.

“I saw your face before she left, and I don’t know what just happened,” the older man lowly growled, “but I want you in my office, and by the time I get back up there, you better have an explanation.”

Cullen tried to protest, “But she-“

“Is crying, Knight Cullen, and unless you want to be doing the dishes for a month, I highly suggest you remember your place and do as I say. Now.”

And so Cullen went up to the Knight-Commander’s office. He was waiting for quite a while, and while he waited, he was alone with his thoughts.

He had made his Voice cry, and he didn’t care. Oh, a great part of him cared, of course, but that part was locked up alongside other foolish notions like leniency and trying to reason with the mages. Instead, Cullen’s mindset was cold, harsh, and demanding of absolute obedience. And so it would stay for some time.

When the Knight-Commander finally joined him, he had Cullen take a seat.

“I just spoke with Velania. She told me what happened with her Voice, Ser Cullen. All of it, and frankly, I don’t know how she doesn’t realize it’s you. Get comfortable.”

Then he gave Cullen a long lecture about how everyone in the tower was hurting after everything that had happened, and taking his anger out on an innocent girl was unacceptable.

“Templars are not supposed to befriend their charges,” Cullen defended.

Greagoir glared at him. “They aren’t supposed to emotionally tear their charges apart and throw them away, either!”

“When she gets possessed because of her stupidity and emotions-“

“If she gets possessed, it will not be because of her stupidity, but because you gave the demons something to latch onto!”

“Our job is to control the mages!”

“No, our job is to provide them with a safe, stable environment for them to practice their magic in!” Greagoir seethed. “We are to protect them from all threats, and if you are going to be a threat to Velania’s mental health, we are going to have an issue, likely resulting in you being discharged from the Order.”

“I am her Voice! In theory, I should be discharged from the Order!” Cullen narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s the Chantry’s rules! I am discharged, and she is made Tranquil; that’s how it’s supposed to go.”

Greagoir paused for a moment, gathering himself, and then he asked, “Do you know why we keep Voices apart, aside from wanting to restrict any traces of sentiment?” Cullen shook his head. “Having a strong emotional bond with a mage Voice makes them more powerful in certain regards, and thus more dangerous. In this case, however, I think you have rendered the girl nearly despondent. She has run down to the magic-proof cells and refuses to come out. She doesn’t want to know her Voice’s identity or make an effort to find out. In fact, she explicitly stated that, if her Voice really hates her that much, it would likely be best for them to never speak again. So, I am not worried about Velania becoming more of a threat due to your...situation. You will stay in the Circle as long as you do not make anything worse, as will she.”

“But, Knight-Commander-”

“Ser Cullen, I am already going to give you serious consequences as a result of this. Try to back talk me again, and you’ll be cleaning the toilets. Do I make myself clear?’

“....”

“ Do I make myself clear? ”

“...Yes, Knight Commander.”

Cullen was punished severely, confined to his quarters for a month and only allowed to leave to do the nightly dishes. Velania wasn’t seen by anyone besides Greagoir and Irving for about the same amount of time. Apparently she was intelligent enough to lock herself in the magic-and-demon-proof dungeons until she had better control of herself. When she came out, she was different. Her generally happy demeanor had almost disappeared, and in its place was a solemn cloud. She almost never laughed, and since Anders escaped during all of Uldred’s chaos, Velania was left with no close friends to talk to. Whereas the library was usually where she could be found before, she now spent all her time locked away in her room. Irving tried to get her to cheer up by giving her things to do, and for a while she was more cheerful when helping to restore order to the library. However, it didn’t last, and soon enough she would retreat to solitude again. She had to be encouraged to eat, and even then her hair and eyes became dull and lifeless from how little she consumed. The torches in the tower used to glow in her presence, but now they grew dimmer instead. She rarely summoned fire anymore, and her endless notes on the stars and moons were stuffed into desk drawers that weren’t opened again.

Cullen saw how she was an abomination waiting to happen, but Greagoir wouldn’t listen to him, instead sending him away on a holiday to ‘clear his head.’ The holiday didn’t help at all. The nightmares still followed him, the demons laughing at his screams each night. He tried to forget about Velania, but then he would get that little buzz through their connection again when she used magic, and he was right back to cursing her name. In addition, he had felt a physical pull to her ever since his revelation about her identity, and by the time the holiday was over, the pull was practically dragging him back to the Circle, to her.

The pair’s non-Voice relationship got worse as well, despite Greagoir’s threats to send Cullen off somewhere else if he didn’t control himself. If Cullen snapped at Velania, she would snap back, and more than once others had to interfere to keep them from getting in each other’s faces. If he grabbed her arm to get her attention, she’d yank it back and growl at him. If they had to be in the same room, they stood on opposite sides.

How she hadn’t figured out that he was her Voice was beyond him. Almost all of the Templars that had survived Uldred shared his sentiments, sure, but he was the most vocal about it. Was she really that dense? Apparently so. Cullen didn’t care; he just wanted to be rid of her.

At his request, Greagoir started trying to contact Circles for open Templar Knight positions, but the impending Blight prevented the messages from going through. Escaping his Voice would have to wait.

………..

When the darkspawn attacked Denerim and Warden Amell called upon the Circle to defend the city, Cullen found himself fighting alongside Velania. He kept a close eye on her in case she decided to kill him and blame it on a darkspawn, and if her frequent wary glances were any indication, she was doing the same. At some point that stopped, as though they reached a silent agreement to live first and argue later, and they actually worked pretty well together. Turned out, being able to feel when she was about to cast a spell was a great way to prevent getting in the way, and she seemed to be anticipating his movements. When he got a bit tired, she took it upon herself to notice.

“If I offered you a rejuvenation spell,” she asked in between fireballs, “would you take it?”

He shook his head. “Magic from you? It’s more likely to blow up in my face than anything else. ....Although I’ll take any elfroot potions you have.”

While he took a moment to catch his breath, she covered him, incinerating anything that came close with a snap of her fingers.

“Ready yet, Templar?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because the next wave is well on its way.”

………….

Warden Amell, apparently coming from an Antivan branch of Free Marcher nobility, executed Loghain, stopped the Blight, and married her companion (and Voice, as it turned out) Alistair Theirin all in the same week. The couple was crowned King and Queen of Ferelden, and nobles frantically searched for a way to prevent a mage from becoming queen. When they found none that wasn’t overruled by her lineage or her great deeds, they had no choice but to accept it. Both the Ferelden and Antivan Circles were invited to their coronation (although the Antivan Circle wasn’t able to attend), and to make things even more unorthodox, Amell insisted on having her mabari, Barkspawn, bring her crown to her.

It was rather odd for Cullen as he watched the woman he had been infatuated with kiss and beam at another man, but it was also odd to think that she, a mage from Antiva, would be running Ferelden. Nevertheless, that old pre-Uldred part of his mind was happy for her and wished her luck in dealing with the Orlesians. As he silently stood while the other attendees cheered for their new monarchs, he let the last traces of Sofia Amell slip out of his mind like sand through fingers. She was never really his in the first place; he knew that now. He moved on.

As for Velania, one could say she was feeling better. Not long before the coronation, something seemed to change within her, like she had made some great decision, and then she was determinedly working on things again, eating, sleeping normally, and practicing her magic like her life depended on it. She cried with joy and pride with her fellow mages at the coronation, and when the attendees were allowed to greet the King and Queen, she ran up and hugged Amell. While they were chatting, the Queen said something that made her husband blush and Velania laugh, and the torches in the hall shone brighter than before.

Cullen caught Irving looking at him as the Templar glared at his Voice, and at the First Enchanter’s stern expression, he waited a little longer than he would have liked to drag Velania back to the group.

…………

Greagoir eventually brought Cullen some good news and some bad news: Knight-Commander Meredith was willing to take in Cullen in Kirkwall, just across the Waking Sea. The bad news?

His parents didn’t survive the Blight.

The letter from Mia was tearstained, but as much as Cullen wanted to run to them in South Reach, he couldn’t. He was too different a person from when he left home. They might have been upset with what he had become, and they would have wanted an update on his Voice situation….It was better that he didn’t go.

He wrote Mia a short letter back, making excuses that the Circle needed to be rebuilt. He didn’t mention that he was leaving for Kirkwall as soon as possible.

………...

Kirkwall was a stark contrast from Ferelden.

Sandy, rocky, and with remnants of its slave trade roots everywhere, it was a lively city, if an incredibly crime-ridden one. However, the major difference was how the Circle was run.

Cullen carried Greagoir’s words with him, as well as his own memories of his training. He decided that he was going to try to think of this as the fresh start it was supposed to be, and in the process of that he did a lot of thought about what a Templar did and what that meant.

A Templar’s job was to protect mages by taking any and all apostates to the Circles and managing them there, away from the public.

It was also a Templar’s job to keep their charges safe.

It was not his job to be an ass, and with the exception of those that either were too weak to survive their Harrowing or made the mistake of using blood magic, he generally had little reason to be such, even if he was one of the coldest Templars in the tower.

Knight-Commander Meredith seemed to have differing views, though, and Cullen found himself swayed more and more to her side as she took him under her wing. He rose to the position of Knight-Captain within months of his arrival, and despite her claims otherwise, he had a hunch that Meredith passed over far more deserving members of their Order just to give it to him.

Nevertheless, Cullen took the position gratefully, and he became colder and harsher with his charges under Meredith’s guidance. He stopped caring about Greagoir’s words at some point, and instead he trusted Meredith’s word as law. The Templars had the power to deal with any issues that arose however they wished, and if Meredith occasionally kept things from him, it was all in the greater interest of the Circle.

As for things involving his Voice, they hadn’t talked since he exploded at her. The physical pull to her had lessened greatly, but he still got the little pulses. For him, very little was known about different effects of being Voices aside from those he experienced. So, he scoured every section of the Circle’s library for information on Voices, and soon he created a small list of his new findings:

1.      The pulses and physical pull were both normal. Several people even reported being able to differentiate between spells through the feelings of the pulses, and even more believed that, if one wandered with no specific direction in mind, they would eventually turn up at their Voice’s location.
2.      Famous Voice pairs in different cultures included: Andraste and Maferath, Mythal and Fen’ Harel, and Teyrn Loghain and King Maric.
3.      In Tevinter, any slave with a non-slave Voice was considered the non-slave’s property from birth, regardless of the non-slave’s social status or who owned the slave’s parents.
4.      In the Qun, Voices weren’t allowed to communicate, period.
5.      Voices could not be changed (unfortunately), not even when one half died.
6.      Once one half of a Voice pair found out the other’s identity, the first would suffer the pull just as Cullen had, while the other would continue their life as if nothing had changed until they came to the same realization as the first.
7.      In the case of mages specifically, a strong emotional connection between Voices would give a mage a significant mana boost and shield them from possession. (This one came from a Chantry-sanctioned book, and a footnote read: ‘It is for this reason that mages must be kept from their Voices if at all possible; if a strong bond is formed and maintained, the mage would be nearly unstoppable.’)

None of it was particularly helpful to him, and further information would require requests from outside the Circle, which would mean others knowing about his efforts to understand this curse. He couldn’t have anyone aside from Greagoir finding out about it. He refused to let her tarnish what he had made.

Speaking of Velania, her old friend Karl had just died when Cullen arrived at the Circle. He hadn’t ever personally met the mage, since Karl had been taken away to Kirkwall months before Cullen had finished his training. Nevertheless, Cullen knew of his friendship with Velania and borderline romantic relationship with Anders, and he couldn’t help but feel glad that all external traces of his Voice were gone.

He thought of telling her about Karl, but that would be something a friend would do, and they weren’t friends anymore and had never been friends.

Not that he thought of her often, of course, and he certainly didn’t miss how things were before.

Yes he did.

…………

(A/n: If you want to break this up and have an intermission, here is a pretty good place. Grab a snack, take a nap, whatever, and then come back to this point.)

………….

A couple years passed. The name of one Marian Hawke rose to infamy when she went on an expedition to the Deep Roads and got rich, and her younger brother, Carver, joined the Order shortly after her return. The young man seemed irritated that most of his peers only tried to make friends with him because of his sister, but he was nothing but patient with their charges. He was determined to forge his own path, away from his family and on his own terms, and for that he swiftly earned Cullen’s respect.

One day, Carver knocked on his office door and asked a question.

“Sorry to bother you, Knight-Captain, but I was wondering whether you wanted us to put the Fereldan transfers into their own rooms or have them bunk with one another.”

Cullen’s heart stopped in his chest. “What transfers?”

Carver produced a paper and handed it to him. “You haven’t heard? The entire Circle’s talking about it; we’re getting two mages from Ferelden on Tuesday. Their Knight-Commander’s trying to get the stronger ones out, something about the Veil being too thin there for it to be safe and a drastic increase in failed Harrowings…Are you alright?”

“This has to be a joke.” Cullen glowered at the paper, an announcement ripped from the Templar quarters’ noticeboard. There, looking back at him mockingly, sat the names of the two transfers, one of which was—you guessed it—Velania.

The Maker must hate me.

“What,” Carver joked, “is one of them your Voice or someth-“

“No! Of course not!”

Even Cullen had to admit that that was absolutely obvious, but Carver just raised an eyebrow.

“Aaanyway,” he continued, “as I said, we need to determine whether we want to put them in the same room or let them have their own rooms. We have enough room for them to have separate quarters-“

“Sure, put them in their own rooms.” Cullen waved a hand. “Just make sure they’re not close enough that they could conspire in the middle of the night.”

Carver nodded and exited, leaving Cullen with the notice paper. He looked at it a moment longer before crumpling it up and flinging it at the wall.

Of course. I really can’t escape her.

He slept especially poorly that night.

Tuesday eventually loomed over Cullen, and, as luck would have it, he and Carver were the ones assigned to meet the transfers at the docks. As they neared, he felt that stupid physical pull reestablish itself like a fishing line reeling him in, and if Carver wondered how Cullen knew exactly which pier they were headed to, he didn’t mention it.

And then he saw her standing there as she looked up at the tall buildings.

She really hadn’t changed: same hairstyle, same height, same mud-brown eyes that narrowed when they fell upon him.

He called, “Come on! We don’t have all day!”

She and the other mage, Rose, gathered their things and approached, and she came to a stop in front of him.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Funny,” Carver said. “He said the same thing when he saw your name on the notice.” Cullen fixed him with a look, and he refocused on leading Rose away. “Apologies, Knight-Captain.”

Cullen grunted, and Velania crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She coolly said, “Knight-Captain? Look at you, Templar, putting on the big boy pants. Though, it’s a shame your hair didn’t get an upgrade as well.”

“Just as it’s a shame that you still reek like a campfire,” he retorted.

“Ooo, sassy, now, are we? Is this a normal thing, or just for your least favorite mage?”

“You bring it out in me so easily.”

“Well, don’t I feel special. So, this is where you up and left to.” Her eyes surveyed the crowds of people around, buying equipment and potions. He watched her for signs of anything malicious while they walked, but his efforts proved fruitless.

He said, “What, did you not know that I was here?”

Her eyes flitted back to him, and she solemnly shook her head. “No. Greagoir was very hush-hush about your transfer, and now the lyrium’s starting to get to him. Honestly, it’s a wonder he can remember his own name, let alone make sure I didn’t follow you. Irving’s been trying to get him to retire for months, but he refuses and holes up in his office until Irving gives in.” She sighed, reaching into a pocket in her bag and pulled out a small bag of cookies. “All he really cares about now is lyrium and keeping his position, unfortunately. I didn’t realize before, but you lot’s fate is almost as shitty as ours...”

Cullen didn’t know what came over him, whether it was seeing her again and feeling like he needed to assert himself or what, but as she brought a cookie closer and closer to her lips, he reached over, plucked it out of her hands, and took a bite of it himself. She squawked, murder gathering in her shocked eyes as he finished it off.

“Hmm, good, but a little bit dry.”

She blinked rapidly. “You know I almost killed Anders once when he did that, right?”

(In front of them, Rose was being escorted by Carver, who momentarily froze at Velania’s words before continuing).

Cullen remembered; that was precisely what gave him the idea. He tsked, “Threatening your Knight-Captain on your first day…I wonder what the Knight-Commander will think when I tell her?”

She crossed her arms and looked ahead of their path, and though her lips were pursed, she didn’t make any sound aside from a defeated huff.

“Good blood mage.”

“I’m not a blood mage.”

He side-eyed her. “Yes, you are.”

Her jaw clenched, and she full-on glared at him. “Tell you what, Templar, the moment you find enough evidence of your delusions being true that even I believe it, your sword gets first dibs on my neck. Until then, stay off my ass about it.”

“ Language .”

“Fóllete, hijo de puta.”

“Velania, keep that attitude up, and you’re going to get in trouble. Things aren’t as lenient here as they were in Ferelden.”

“I’m not a child, Ser Cullen.”

“Fine, don’t listen to me, and when you end up Tranquil, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

The first couple weeks put her through a series of trials. The Order unearthed a group of blood mages within the Circle, and so one morning she woke up to find several of her ilk gone from their beds. When the other mages found out, they just shook their heads and murmured, ‘should have known better…’ while Velania was wondering why everyone was so desensitized to it. Cullen made sure she was closely watched, and he could see how it irked her. It wasn’t long until she backtalked one of the Knights, and the swift backhand she got was enough to make her quiet for some time. She adjusted well, even if she hated it. After all, she didn’t need to like her situation; she just had to be kept safe.

………

“Why don’t you talk to your family?”

Velania had gotten in trouble and was supposed to be quietly sitting and awaiting punishment in Cullen’s office while he was retrieved. However, because she was Velania, Cullen opened his door to find her standing and reading an open letter left on his desk.

The letter was from a rather livid Mia, wondering why on earth he didn’t tell them where he was. It was one of the last things he ever wanted Velania to see.

Her brown eyes looked at him in disbelief, and she shook her head even as he snatched the paper off of the desk. “You have people that cared about you enough to track you down, and you just left them hanging. You’re going to write back, right?”

“We are not having this discussion. You misbehaved. I’m giving you your punishment, and then you will go back to your quarters for the evening.”

“They deserve a response!”

He seethed, “You, mage, are in no position to lecture me about anything, let alone family. Now, you’re getting an apprentice.”

At that, she paused. “You’re putting me in charge of the education of a child? As punishment? Seriously?” she said skeptically.

He templed his fingers and explained, “Apparently Lily Bernheart is having difficulties with barriers and lightning, and Meredith thinks training her will prevent you from having the time to get into trouble. Thankfully, you won’t be wholly responsible for her training; she intends to become a spirit healer with interests in earth and ice magic, but she still needs to complete her basic classes for lightning and barriers.”

“Which is where I come in.” She nodded. “So, who will be teaching her the other subjects?”

“Shiari Nese. You are to start as soon as possible, so Lily can have the maximum time possible to prepare for her Harrowing in less than five years. And before you ask, yes, this will make you an Enchanter. You’ll need to have had several apprentices before you get to be a Senior Enchanter and have access to that section of the library.”

“Understood.” She made to leave, but paused at his doorway. “You should really write your sister back.”

“Get. Out.”

Cullen did end up replying to Mia’s letter, if for nothing else but to keep her from coming up there and demanding answers in person. He wouldn’t put it past her. However, he did it of his own accord, and certainly not because Velania suggested it.

Even if he knew she was right.

…..

More time passed. Velania ended up being a, dare he say it, fantastic choice for a mentor for a more mild-mannered girl like Apprentice Bernheart.

The child was barely in her teens, and though she was relatively calm, she was a tad skittish. Her big brown eyes stood out from her pale complexion, and her small frame was usually hidden behind a book. On past library duty shifts, Cullen had honestly walked right past her a couple times before noticing her light brown hair peeking up above the giant tome she was reading. Between her demeanor and her rather average class performance, Cullen didn’t really expect anything more than the standard level of power from the girl.

However, once lessons with Velania began, he saw a definite increase in power. Such an increase, in fact, that he felt that he had to know what she had Apprentice Bernheart doing.

“Good! Let’s try it again. If you feel comfortable, give it more power, but if you don’t want to, that’s okay as well. Just take your time with the spell, and if at any time you feel like you’re losing control, tell me and I’ll take over so you don’t get hurt, okay?”

“Okay!”

Cullen slipped into the unfurnished practice room and stood on the wall beside Enchanter Shiari, a rather sharp-looking elven woman. From the first second, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as did the front of his hair. He saw Velania glance at him momentarily, but her focus was on her student. Lily’s staff glowed purple as she aimed the spell at a target painted on the far wall, but when her movement followed through stiffly, even Cullen knew it wasn’t going to work. Sure enough, the lightning bolt came out of the staff, but it landed a few meters in front of Lily.

The apprentice looked at the point of contact defeatedly and shook her head. She murmured, “It’s just too unstable for me. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Velania drummed her fingers on her thighs as she did when she was thinking. Then she stopped.

“Come put your staff down.”

“What?!” Cullen burst out, and Velania slowly gave him a controlled look through narrowed eyes. “Using a staff helps to keep a spell stable.”

She cooly responded, “Yes, Knight-Captain, but she is accustomed to earth and ice, the more stable elements. Lightning is not a spell that likes stability. It flourishes in chaos and split-second movements, not practiced technique. One must be able to conjure it before they can control it.”

“Lightning can barely be controlled as is! You need the stability.”

Velania’s eyes flashed as she huffed and placed her staff against the wall. She clapped her hands repeatedly, and each time brought with it a thunderclap and a crackling word that floated above her.

She wrote: ‘DON’T TELL A MAGE HOW TO DO MAGIC.’ And she let it sit there in the air for a moment all while using that intense gaze of hers to stare Cullen down before she released the spell.

“Enchanter Shiari,” she gently said, “do you see issue with trying something different?”

The elf’s jet-black hair moved as she shook her head. “If the current way is not working, it only makes sense to try it a different way. And,” she said, her deep blue eyes piercing into Cullen, “lucky for our apprentice, she has two skilled mages that, in addition to their own abilities to manage stray magic, have taught her to use barriers quite proficiently. Proceed.”

Apprentice Bernheart looked unsurely at Cullen, but then her lips became a hard line. Dropping her staff, she said, “Alright, so, what, do you want me to just fling my hand toward the target and summon lightning from it?”

Velania nodded, arms at the ready, and Cullen felt the firm stiffness of a barrier spell shift into his veins. The girl looked at her hand, then at the target, then at her hand again. She drew her arm back before letting it whip forward. Sure enough, a bolt sprung forth and hit the target dead center. Velania whistled as she looked at the blackened mark on the wall.

“Couldn’t have done better myself,” she said, and the child beamed.

“May I try it again?”

“Of course.”

Cullen didn’t stay for much more of the lesson, since he never oversaw other apprentices’ trainings and didn’t want to seem too interested in a particular mage’s activities. Over the next months he saw Apprentice Bernheart grow less jumpy and more kind-hearted. She grew rather close to Velania, who had mellowed somewhat, and Enchanter Shiari followed the girl’s lead not long after. The elven woman showed a solemnity past her mere 19 years, but then again, her apprentice was 11 and dealing with lightning. They formed a trio of sorts, where their dynamic could be shown by an interaction Cullen saw one morning at breakfast:

Apprentice Bernheart made to leave the room, forgetting some papers at the table she and the other two mages had been sitting at. Velania called to her, “Lily! Your notes!”

The girl hurried back to the table, taking the papers and carefully checking that she had everything before she smiled, waved, and said, “Thanks, moms!”

“You’re welcome!” Enchanter Shiari said, while Velania had apparently stopped functioning and was staring at the girl as she hurried into the hallway. “Velania, what’s the--Wait, did Lily just--?...Did she call us her mothers?”

Velania, still staring at the empty door, murmured, “Uh huh…”

“....I guess we have a child now…”

The two women looked at each other.

“....Agree to be the best fucking parents?” Velania raised a fist.

Enchanter Shiari’s fist bumped Velania’s. “Agreed. And what have I told you about the swearing? There’s little ears!”

“I know, I know…” Velania sighed, fingertips tapping her side. “Do you think she’ll be fine? I mean, she’s only taking the test that will determine whether or not she has to wait another year to start learning spirit healing….Shiari, she’s going to be so disappointed if she fails-”

“She’s not going to fail, alright?” The elf sternly said, taking Velania by the shoulders. “I’ve taught her everything I needed to know for my test, and you’ve filled in any blanks I left. As long as she doesn’t psych herself out, she’ll pass with flying colors. Now, waiting for her to get out won’t do us any good, and we have free time until the Senior Enchanters are done with their meeting with Orsino. Let’s go to the library.”

As Cullen watched the pair go, he couldn’t help but wonder if his Voice was that anxious when he took his Templar exams. Despite hating himself for thinking of her wistfully, he couldn’t deny that his heart felt a small pang as he later watched an excited Apprentice Bernheart tightly hug a surprised but smiling Velania. In another world, maybe he could have gotten to truly know his Voice as he once thought he did….

But that other world didn’t exist. It never had, and it never would. His Voice was still probably a maleficar, and she was definitely a stain upon his life. He was cursed to be bound to her and subject to her magical machinations while she glided through life. She was nothing but a nuisance to him. If the next day were her last, he wouldn’t shed a tear, unless they were tears of joy.

But that was a lie.

…….

More time passed, and Cullen was becoming glaringly aware of how Velania was definitely his Voice. It wasn’t a conscious action, of course; she would just say or do something that made his mind unearth some deeply repressed moment of happiness. No matter how swiftly and harshly he tried to squash his feelings, he couldn’t forget how it felt to excitedly open the Channel and just talk. Mia had been right when she compared the Channel to a muscle, and in its disuse Cullen knew that, should he ever be foolish enough to open it again, the Channel would fight against him. Still, there were some days when his mind lingered on it ever so slightly before ripping himself away as though burned. He didn’t even feel the physical pull as strongly anymore, just the magic pulses. They may as well have not been bound when she wasn’t spellcasting.

However, the moments that he felt their connection most was when he was dreaming; his nightmares featured Velania with more and more frequency. One night she was the one locking him up in Ferelden; on another she merely stood and stared at him while her flames cast shadows on her face; and on yet another he said something that made her expression go shocked, sad, and then livid, and he woke up with roaring in his ears and a possessed Velania on his eyelids. Thus he kept an even closer eye on her.

……….

For the record, Cullen hadn’t liked the Qunari being in Kirkwall in the first place. Then there was the poison gas incident, the Qunari killed by a mob, and the death of the viscount’s son. In hindsight, the result was inevitable.

“Knight-Captain!” Carver said, bursting into Cullen’s office as he wrapped his sword around his armor. “The Qunari are attacking the city! Come on!”

He so called it.

Cullen met Knight-Commander Meredith in the Gallows courtyard, where she and First Enchanter Orsino were gathering some of their respective fellows to go defend the city.

“There you are, Cullen,” Meredith greeted. “I want you, Ser Carver, and Ser Elise to come with me.”

Cullen nodded. “What mages are coming with us?”

“That’s for the First Enchanter to judge. He’ll catch up with us later.”

Cullen glanced over to see Velania rapidly talking with Orsino, who wore a tired expression.

“Knight-Captain!” Meredith called, and Cullen realized that the group had moved on without him. He ran to catch up, and as he left the Gallows, he thought, She better not be asking Orsino if she can fight.

She was asking Orsino if she could fight.

……….

“We need to attack now!” Meredith hissed.

The two Circle groups stood behind a corner near the Viscount’s Keep with Marian Hawke, Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen, a grumpy elf with white hair, and a tanned, dagger-wielding woman that kept leering at Cullen. Just around their cover, through a small square, and up some stairs were several Qunari warriors guarding the Keep’s front doors.

Orsino harshly replied, “Are you mad? They have hostages! We need a distraction.”

“We don’t have the time for a distraction!”

“If I may,” Marian Hawke interjected, “I would much rather lose time than the lives of those inside. We should make a distraction.”

Orsino shot Meredith an almost smug look, and then Cullen heard the voice that grated most upon his nerves.

“First Enchanter, let me draw them off,” Velania said. “Please.”

Cullen recognized the determination in her eyes, but Orsino looked at her like she was crazy. “That is surely too much to ask of you, child.”

“They don’t even have any Templars with them. I can do it.”

“I think you are far underesti-”

“Just let her go.” Cullen didn’t even realize he had spoken until he caught Velania’s surprised but grateful gaze. Picking his words carefully, he added, “I’ve seen her take down two ogres by herself in less than two minutes during the Blight. She’ll be fine, and if she’s not, well...It’s better for her to die than the First Enchanter.”

While he spoke, Velania’s expression became unimpressed, and he knew she was probably thinking something like, ‘really, Templar?’

“Wow,” she dryly said, taking her staff off her back. “Love you too, Knight-Captain.”

“Just a moment,” Meredith asserted. “Does she even have a plan?”

Velania looked almost offended. “Of course I have a plan.” She started walking out from behind the corner before she added, “It’s the most Ferelden plan ever, but it’s a plan.”

Behind Cullen, Marian Hawke approvingly said, “Ah, a good old-fashioned fuck-shit-up. The best of Ferelden strategies, aside from a mabari swarm.”

Then Velania went into the open before anyone could stop her, and if Cullen thought his dreams were the most threatening image of Velania, he was clearly wrong.

As she entered the courtyard, her head was raised high, her lips curled in a cruel smile. Her staff made a little click-click against the stones, and with a snap of her fingers flames sprung forth between the nearby pillars.

Cullen followed the others into the area between the fire and the wall, a little pocket hidden from the Qunari, just in time to hear the invaders cry, “Saarebas!”

Spears were thrown at her, but she merely swept them aside mid-air with a gesture, not even pausing in her slow stalk.

“Did you really think you’d take the city that easily?” She called, tone dripping with grandiose. “I’m afraid that the inhabitants of this city are more tenacious than your ox-brains can imagine.”

Then three Qunari charged.

Velania sidestepped the first and incinerated the second. A third leapt at her while the first swung again, but she ducked under them both. The two collided, and before they could regain their bearings, Velania used a combination of force and haste spells to kick them down. Dropping her staff, she stomped her foot and made a gesture like a child having a temper tantrum. The ground trembled beneath her magic, and Cullen could see her two foes being pushed into the stone while the other Qunari dared not approach. There was a great crack! and then the two at her feet were still.

There was a small moment of silence in which the Qunari at the top of the stairs paused, and in that moment Velania stepped over to one of the dead. She looked up at the others, face hard with defiance, as she raised her foot over a limp Qunari neck.

And then she brought it down, hard.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Maker’s breath, Velania! Cullen wanted to mutter.

It was past the point of excessive, and when she finally stopped, the hem of her robes was caked in blood. The several remaining Qunari, focused wholly on her and having clearly gotten the message, all gathered at the top of the stairs. Velania blinked, picking up her staff again. Cullen saw her eyes scan the line of enemies, counting them. Her brown orbs gained a small bit of fear, and her hands clutched her staff tight.

But it was Velania. She couldn’t be afraid of anything. She just had to be acting. Yes, acting.

As one, the Qunari ran down the steps, battleaxes raised, and Velania slowly started walking back. She threw a line of fire at them, but it was weaker and felled only a few foes. Her footsteps came faster as she left the square, her mouth curled in a sneer that didn’t reach her eyes.

Then she turned tail and ran out, and the Qunari gave chase. The last glimpse Cullen saw of her was as she dashed around the corner, and then Cullen’s veins were almost constantly vibrating. The flames shielding their group from the rest of the square vanished, and they snuck up the stairs to the Viscount’s Keep.

What happened in the Keep is the story that Varric Tethras would later document in The Tale of the Champion. When it was all over, Cullen found a very bloody Velania sitting on the Keep steps. She wasn’t playing with fire or tapping her fingers or meditating, no. She was just sitting with this grim look on her face.

He said to her, “What’s wrong with you?”

Velania jerked to look at him as though coming out of a trance, and Cullen saw a sadness in her eyes as they turned back to the rest of the city. Her voice came out strained as she said, “I can’t decide whether the mindless slaughter of Ferelden or-or this-“ she gestured to the rest of the city “-is worse. Someone had to plan this, and that’s so-“ she broke off, growling and shaking her head. “When I was running around, I saw a child’s head impaled on a spear while his body swung in the breeze. To kill fighters is one thing, but this. ...You know what I mean, right?”

Her big brown eyes latched onto his, and before he could even think, he heard himself say, “Yes. Civilian deaths are always brutal, no matter who does them, but putting calculation into it only serves to make one more of a monster.”

She nodded. “Well, if something like this ever happens again, I want in.”

“You don’t get to make demands like that, you know,” Cullen said, crossing his arms.

“But these people were defenseless, and we aren’t! Why shouldn’t the Chantry use us to fight when that’s literally all they keep us around for?” Her tone had an edge of bitterness, but it was gone when she stood up and continued, “Don’t answer that. Anyways, how does my back look? I think one of them got me pretty good earlier.”

Deciding to let her earlier question go, Cullen looked, and he saw a long gash going straight down from her right shoulder to her hip. He tsked, “Mage, I think you’ve landed yourself in the infirmary for a week. Come on, let’s gets moving.”

“You aren’t going to wait for Meredith and the others to come out of the Viscount’s Keep?”

“The Knight-Commander can be irritable when she’s tired, as she is now. Do you want to wait for her?”

“....Fair point. Are you going to want something in return for speaking for me earlier?”

Cullen thought for a moment, then said, “Four months of you behaving perfectly would be nice.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “Four straight months? I can do three.”

He side-eyed her, and she returned it. “Four.”

“Three and a half.”

“Deal.”

And thus the Knight-Captain and the Enchanter left for the Circle.

Chapter Text

The next several months were filled with the lovely cycle of rising tensions between mages and Templars. Mage after mage was made Tranquil, and mage after mage would grow angry and rebel, which resulted in them being made Tranquil.

But it was what Meredith thought was right, and Cullen would not turn his back on his superior. They were servants of the Maker, and they followed his teachings. Magic was made to serve man, never to rule over him, and Cullen would be damned if he let that change. He cracked down on the mages when he felt that it was necessary, and after a particularly large ring of blood mages was found out and eliminated, he ordered that the mages have an earlier curfew.

Less than a week after this rule was instated began the incidents that would later be referred to as the Ice Jester Era by enthusiastic mages and tired Templars alike. At first, it was as simple as a single Templar lieutenant slipping on what he claimed to be ice and bruising his rear end during his night patrol.

Except it was late spring, and the last frosts were long behind them.

It was peculiar, to say the least, but everyone assumed that the Templar had fallen of his own accord but didn’t want to be embarrassed about it. The event was brushed off.

Until a different Templar had the same experience.

And then another.

And then another.

Never the same Templar twice in a row and never in the same part of the Circle, Meredith’s forces fell down one lone patrol after another, and each time they said the same thing: they had slipped on ice, and they hadn’t seen anyone else around.

It had to be a mage proficient in ice and cloaking spells, then. If their selection of Templars were any indication, they were a rebellious one; the more lenient Knights were left alone, while the stricter ones were targeted relentlessly. The unharmed men seemed to almost find amusement in the majority’s suffering, and Ser Carver often whistled a happy little tune on his solo patrols. Meanwhile, Cullen found himself falling victim to the culprit three times in the same month, and although he thoroughly searched the air, he couldn’t find anyone in the vicinity.

Of course, their charges had a field day with the events, and each breakfast was filled with little titters and guesses at who had been targeted the previous night. They became bolder as the culprit, the newly dubbed ‘Ice Jester’, continued to undermine the Templars’ authority, which resulted in Templars cracking down, which then resulted in more Templars being targeted. Two months in, no one had any evidence to figure out who it was, and Cullen had to deal with Knight after Knight refusing to go on patrol alone or demanding a bribe beforehand. He hated to admit it, but whoever was behind all this had the Order tucking its tail between its legs. They were clever and clean, and he was left stuck and frustrated.

Or so he thought, until the night that Cullen was targeted a fourth time, and just before he fell down, he felt a small pulse go through his body. It was small, as insignificant as a mosquito’s bite, but he noticed it. His body hit the cold hard concrete just as Cullen’s realization hit him.

Of course it’s her.

Velania was a fire mage; she would have been last on his list of people to suspect. Her behavior had been abnormally well since her three and a half months had been up, but Cullen had been occupied with other matters.

(Well, maybe that wasn’t completely true; they had merely been living in unspoken avoidance of one another. It wasn’t like he wanted their connection to be found out, you know.)

In any case, Cullen would have never expected her to be the culprit, and knowing the truth did nothing to help him. He had no evidence aside from the pulse, so attempting to expose her would expose their connection as well. That wasn’t happening, so Cullen remained silent. He hated it, but he refused to risk being discharged from the Order. The Templars were his life, and even Velania would not take that away from him.

He was severely tested, of course; Meredith became more enraged with each incident and demanded that Cullen figure it out with the utmost haste. Things became more difficult as the Templars started patrolling in groups and the Jester became more careful in her targets. There were two straight months where nothing happened, and everyone thought that the Jester had finally stopped her shenanigans.

Cullen guessed differently, and his suspicions were proven correctly one morning at breakfast, when the Ice Jester made her final target.

It began like any other, with Meredith entering the dining hall last before approaching the front of the room to give announcements, but as the Knight-Commander took her last step, there was a bright blue glow beneath her foot. Everyone that saw the glyph forming would later tell the story as though it were happening in slow motion: the flash, Meredith’s boot slipping, her face going blank with shock, her body falling until her rear slammed into the ground, and a moment of dead silence before-

“WHEN I FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE,” she screeched, “I’M GOING TO HAVE YOUR HEAD!”

No one dared to utter a single word as she stormed out of the room, but as soon as the door swung shut behind her, the entire Circle burst into whispers and chit-chat. Cullen glanced at Velania and saw her staring after Meredith with her hands clasped over her mouth. Without being able to see her mouth, he couldn’t quite make out her expression, but he was willing to bet good money that that spark in her eyes was triumph.

Meredith never got the evidence to figure out who the Ice Jester was, and Cullen never snitched. The case merely stayed open, and Cullen learned to never doubt Velania’s skill in stealth again.

…………

Although the Jester never struck again, there were still little incidents that reeked of Velania but had no trail leading to her. Cullen’s letter openers and scissors went missing and were later found taped to the ceiling; he opened his office door one day and a bucket of water fell onto him(the bucket and the water, because Velania apparently hadn’t looked up the proper version of the prank); a 6-foot snowman in the middle of the hallway didn’t melt for a week; all of the salt shakers at the Templar tables had loose tops during several meals; Cullen’s office door, which swung inside the room, had rope tying it to the door across the hall, locking him in one night; and one morning Cullen came into his office to find an upside down glass of water waiting for him atop what had been a nearly finished report.

And then there were the geese.

He honestly never figured out how Velania managed to sneak over ten angry geese into the Circle’s Satinalia service and not get caught, but she did it and did it without leaving a single trace of evidence behind. Meredith didn’t even make the mages clean it up; she made the Templars do it. It made him frustrated and amazed at the same time, something Velania seemed to be especially good at.

Later she would pull a similar stunt, except this time it was roughly 20 sheep in the Gallows courtyard. He was standing in the same room as her when they were discovered, but he was still convinced it was her doing. However, he needed evidence in order to accuse her of anything, and that he greatly lacked.

Damn it.

………….

There was a knock at his door. “Knight-Captain?”

He sighed internally. Why was she bothering him?

“Come in, Enchanter Velania.” He heard the door click shut behind her, and before she could speak, he tersely asked, “What. Do you want.”

“May I...May I ask you something?” At the nervous note in her voice, Cullen looked up at her. Her eyes were full of solemnity, and she wrung her hands as she awaited his response. He didn’t have a good feeling about this uncharacteristic tone, but he nodded nevertheless. She hesitated before saying, “The Knight-Commander, is she doing alright? Not that I really need to know, it’s just that lately it seems like she’s getting almost unreasonable in some of her punishments-”

“You dare call your Knight-Commander unreasonable?”

“Can you not interrupt me?” The candles on the walls crackled and spat, but they remained steady as Velania’s eyes flashed at him. “And to answer your question, yes, I do dare, because she does things like ordering the Brand to be put on those three apprentices last week-”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “They were disorderly and weak.”

“They were children!” she burst out. “That’s how kids are! They yell and scream and cry because they don’t know how else to express themselves, and they’re only weak because they don’t know what they’re doing!”

The candles grew larger, but Cullen knew how to make her calm down. He dismissively said, “Mage, if you don’t stop acting like one of those children, perhaps you’ll join them.”

Barely concealed fury crossed her face, and loathing oozed into her eyes as she stared him down. Still, the candles shrank even while they turned blood red and cast the pair into the same color of lighting. In the dimmer environment, Cullen swore he saw actual fires glowing in her eyes. Clearly choosing her words with great care, she gritted through her teeth, “What I was originally going to say is that I want you to know that I don’t see things ending well for anyone with how it’s all going right now.”

That sounded like a threat if he ever hear one. “If you know of any conspiracies within the Circle, you need to come tell me immediately.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she sighed. “I’m just saying that I don’t think that there’s a peaceful way out of all this mess. We can bicker all we want, but one day a sword’s going to be wielded instead of words, and I would rather that didn’t happen. I’m sick of seeing defenseless people be hurt.”

“No mage is defenseless,” he retorted, “and I don’t understand why you’re worried about this. After all, any violence will just let you practice your blood magic, right?”

Her expression morphed from irritated to just plain tired, and something buried in the deep reaches of Cullen’s mind (was it his conscious? It might have been his conscious) wanted to rise up and smack him upside the head. “Are you honestly still going on about that?” she asked. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you about a highly possible life-or-death scenario and how it can be prevented, and you- ” He saw the fight leave her body as she shook her head and made to leave. “I knew I should have given up on you earlier.”

Her words, though spoken as softly as a whisper, bounced around his head worse than if she had yelled into the Channel. Automatically, he said what Meredith consistently said:

“Hey, everything the Templars do, we do it for the good of everyone!”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

And then Velania closed the door.

……….

A month or two passed by in a blur of paperwork and Rites of Tranquility. His conversation with his Voice lingered in Cullen’s mind far longer than he’d ever care to admit, and he took every opportunity to internally justify his side of things. However, as time went on, he found doubt clouding his thoughts. If the Rite of Tranquility was supposed to be a last resort, why was Meredith ordering it every other day? When had Meredith started this? Why wasn’t she letting a new viscount be chosen for the city?

The cracks in the facade existed, even if Cullen tried to glue them back together the best he could. More and more people, regardless of whether they were his men or his charges, came to Cullen to complain. Apparently Orsino was starting to feel frustrated with Meredith blocking every bit of progress he tried to make, and no one dared to approach the Knight-Commander herself. Thus, Cullen became the most approachable person of power.

That didn’t seem like it was right.

Velania was uncharacteristically uninvolved in all of it, and Cullen let his focus drift to other matters besides her.

Which, of course, turned out to be the worst possible thing he could have done.

Velania’s last day in Kirkwall started like any other: Cullen got up, got dressed, and reported for duty. Around noon was when things started changing.

He was standing in the Gallows’ courtyard on one of the few days a year that the mages were allowed to come outside and barter with the few merchants there. Enchanter Shiari and Apprentice Bernheart had elected to stay inside, and Velania was standing near the gate to the docks. She wasn’t doing anything. Just...standing, watching, and leaning against the wall.

That should have been a red flag, but, again, Cullen’s focus was on other matters.

Thus, he didn’t see her run through the gate. Instead, he noticed her absence, paced over to where she had been, and saw her jumping into a rowboat.

“VELANIA!” he shouted. “YOU BETTER COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!”

She untied the boat and stuck her hand in the water even as she looked back at him. Maintaining eye contact, her hand flexed and glowed, and then she was speeding toward the main docks of Kirkwall. Cullen ran back momentarily to order another Templar to gather a search party, and then he took off down the dock to find the next boat.

He couldn’t see her when he got into the city, and their Bond wasn’t helping. It had been left in disuse for too long, and now the physical pull had lessened to a feather’s touch. He would hate himself for it later, but at the time he was too desperate to do anything else but whatever it took to find her.

For the first time since that breakfast in Ferelden, Cullen dragged open the Channel.

Velania, he growled. A search party is leaving the Circle as we speak. Come back.

From her end, he felt the Channel open, and then there was a lot of irritated grumbling. Ohhhhhh, I should have known that you’d come to Kirkwall, too!

Come back. Now.

Fuck. Off. And then she closed the Channel on him. He tried to talk to her to get her to open back up, but she never did.

On the bright side, the pull was back. Not as strong as it was, but enough for him to notice it and follow. Oddly enough, it took him out of the docks and through Lowtown. Why was she going farther into the city?

He lost the pull when he entered Hightown, and he had to slow down to actually search the area. The search party caught up with him, and unexpectedly, the Knight-Commander was with them. When Cullen asked why she had come along, she merely said, “I remember how brutal she was with the Qunari warriors. We have to get her back as soon as possible.”

They continued on, and quite the scene awaited them when they arrived in front of the Chantry: a large crowd stood at the base of the steps and muttered amongst themselves. One of the city’s Comtes saw their party and ran over.

“Thank the Maker!” he said. “Knight-Commander, there’s a mage at the top of the steps. She went inside the Chantry, then came out, and now she’s just sitting! One of the children ran up to her, and they’re talking! What if she’s planning something?!”

Meredith nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.” She turned to Cullen. “Do you know what she wanted in the Chantry?”

Cullen shook his head. “No, but I’ll find out.”

He walked closer, and sure enough, Velania tiredly sat against the wall atop the landing. A boy, no older than 5, stood in front of her, and as Cullen watched him reach out and give Velania a small, bright yellow dandelion. Her lips formed a soft ‘thank you’, and she gave a small smile.

“Velania!” Cullen barked, and she instantly tensed up. Before she could even turn her head, the child stepped to the top of the stairs, looked straight at Cullen and cupped his little hands over his mouth.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you!” he called. “She’s upset and is giving herself a time-out!” Behind him, Velania’s eyes widened at the child before softening. Armor nudged against Cullen’s arm, and all watched as Meredith stalked up the stairs.

She growled, “Move aside, boy.”

“No!”

Cullen never thought he’d see a child, hands on his hips, stand up to Meredith and give her pause, but here they were.

“She says you’re mean!”

“I said-” Meredith raised her hand.

She’s going to strike the boy, Cullen realized, and although he dashed up as fast as he could, he knew he wasn’t going to get there in time.

Luckily, Velania darted in front of the kid in an instant. Her hand latched onto Meredith’s wrist, and she loudly said, “Are you insane ? Just because you backhand my people’s children doesn’t mean you can do the same to the rest of them!”

A thought occurred to Cullen, and he looked back at the crowd. Oh no, it’s more than doubled in size. Meredith almost hit a noble’s kid in front of half the city. Coming up behind Meredith, he hissed, “Knight-Commander, we have an audience, and they don’t look all that happy.”

Meredith had the sense to listen to him, at least, for she yanked her hand away from Velania, who said, “Brantley, you should probably go back to your mother now.”

The child did as he was told, and Meredith grabbed ahold of Velania’s arm. She said in Velania’s ear, “What were you doing in the Chantry?”

Velania stared her down and replied, “Let’s just get back to the Gallows.”

……….

“You’ve done it now.”

Velania’s eyes flashed at him. The two of them were on a rowboat back to the Circle, with Meredith and the others on a boat farther ahead.

“Excuse me?” she hissed back.

“Meredith is going to make you Tranquil, and it’s going to be all your fault. You couldn’t have thought she’d just let this go.”

Velania blinked before looking away. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and her fingers dug into her palms. She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the boat ride.

……….

One last meal, and one last night.

That was what Velania was getting before Meredith put the Brand on her.

Cullen expected to feel giddy, but instead he just felt numb. He couldn’t imagine Velania really being Tranquil; she oozed emotion and magic from every fiber of her being. It didn’t feel real.

However, he shouldn’t have ever expected her to just sit and wait. He should have known that she would cannonball into the hole she had dug for herself, but he didn’t and was thus caught unawares when she tore away from him to get into the hall for dinner.

He was also caught unawares when she jumped onto a table and started shouting.

“If I may have your attention please!” she called, and instantly every Templar in the room was zeroed in on her. “I have some information that you’d surely like to hear!”

Velania, he said, dragging the Channel open again. Get off of the table.

Over my dead body . In the entire hall, the overhead candles burned white, bathing the room in pale light. Velania’s voice echoed throughout the room as she continued, “I went to visit Grand Cleric Elthina today to ask her to do something about the ever-growing numbers of Tranquil among us. And do you know what her response was?”

Cullen started walking toward her. “That’s enough-”

“SHE IS TOO FRIGHTENED ABOUT INCITING CONFLICT TO STOP OUR SUFFERING!”

Meredith entered the room. Cullen went to grab Velania’s arm, and she fade-stepped onto a different table. When had she learned that?

“WE CANNOT COUNT ON THE CHANTRY TO SUPPORT US, ONLY OURSELVES.”

Across the room, Orsino gaped at Velania in shock before slowly rising. “Please, Velania,-”

That was a mistake; she whirled around on the First Enchanter faster than Cullen could keep up with. “And you! You’re supposed to be our leader, yet you can apparently do nothing to protect us!”

In her raving, Meredith grabbed ahold of her right arm, and Velania’s body sagged as a purge went through her. Despite it, Velania’s mouth curled into a malicious grin and her eyes glittered as she leaned toward Meredith. Whatever Cullen’s superior saw there gave her pause, and for a moment the entire Circle watched in silence and held its breath.

“I’m left-handed, bitch, and I don’t need magic to kill you.”

And then Velania punched Meredith’s nose and broke it.

After that, it was a solid two minutes of chaos: the two women were engaged on the center floor, Meredith’s sword cutting through the air while Velania swung one of the room’s floor candelabras; the mages grabbed their staves; and the Templars rushed to surround the mages.

Cullen tried to wade through it all to Meredith’s side, but he needn’t have tried: Velania fell when Ser Carver snuck up behind her and knocked her unconscious with the butt of his hilt. Carver caught her in his arms, and Meredith raised her sword to finish the job-

“NO!” Cullen cried, and Meredith looked at him as though he were mad.

“ Excuse me ?! Did you see what she just-”

“I know!” he interrupted, feeling an oncoming headache. It wasn’t like he’d meant to stop Meredith; it had been a knee-jerk reaction. Later, Cullen would think back and decide that he truly could not fathom a world in which Velania did not exist beside him with fireballs in each hand. However, that was later, and right now he had to come up with a good excuse that Meredith would believe. “She always said she’d rather be dead than Tranquil.”

The Knight-Commander’s bright blue eyes glittered as Cullen’s stomach churned. “So she’ll receive the worst punishment! Good thinking, Knight-Captain!”

Then she instructed Ser Carver to take Velania down to the magic-proof cells in the basement for the night. Around them, the Templars restored order with no bloodshed, and all of the mages were sitting down again. Although, Cullen noticed that the environment had changed: the room was significantly colder; the candles maintained their brightness as set by Velania; and the hair on the back of everyone’s necks stood straight up.

The other mages, regardless of their preferred element, were not happy.

Before Cullen left the room, he caught a glimpse of Enchanter Shiari holding a seething Apprentice Bernheart with one hand and a frozen fork with the other.

Cullen really couldn’t have just one day of peace, could he?

……….

Nightmares plagued him that night, and once again Velania was the prominent figure. This time, she lounged on a throne drenched in blood, an easy smile on her face. Cullen called her name, and her burning eyes bore into him as though she could see into his soul.

“I know it’s you, you know,” she said. “No one else could be such a heartless coward.”

He said something in return (what, he couldn’t tell), and she stood and appeared in front of him. A bloodstained hand grabbed his chin and dragged him down. She murmured, “It’s strange. Once I cared for you as you cared for Sofia Amell, and now I feel nothing at all. Goodbye, my Voice. We won’t meet again.”

She let go of him to push his chest away, and he woke up just before he fell backwards.

Cullen jumped out of bed to the bowl of water in his quarters. He lit a candle and splashed water onto his face.

“It was just a dream,” he told himself. “That was just a demon pretending to be her. She is not leaving. In the morning, she’ll be made Tranquil, and then I’ll be free.” But even as he spoke, part of him knew that he was lying to himself. He’d always carry Velania, his Voice and the strongest mage he’d ever known, with him. Tranquility wouldn’t stop his nightmares, nor would it stop his thoughts of her every time he looked at the moon. Still, he looked at his reflection in the water and tried to convince himself otherwise. She is a mage, she is untrustworthy, she is-

Faint as a whisper, he felt a pulse go through his arm.

Doing magic. How is she doing magic if she’s in the magic-proof cells?

He had a bad feeling about this.

Not even bothering to put on his armor, Cullen grabbed his sword and shield and raced down to the basement. Sure enough, she wasn’t in there.

As he stood in the open doorway to her cell, he slammed open the Channel.

VELANIA!

From the other end came a calm yes? But Cullen could hear the smirk in her voice.

WHERE ARE YOU?!

Um, I’m in my magic-proof cell, obviously.

NO YOU AREN’T! I AM STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF IT, AND YOU. ARE NOT. HERE!

Oh? Good, I was hoping someone was going to trigger it soon.

Trigger what?

You’ll see.

Suddenly, there was a loud BOOM! and then flames sprung up near the basement steps. Cullen was trapped in.

VELANIA!

Get fucked.

He yelled and yelled for help, and eventually Ser Carver found him and did a purge to let him out.

“Velania’s escaped.”

Ser Carver looked at him with a confused expression. “How would she have even done that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m getting the Knight-Commander.”

Ser Carver didn’t stop him, but instead looked after him in alarm as Cullen sprinted down the hallway.

If Cullen had stopped to think, he probably would have wondered why Ser Carver wasn’t running with him. Who knows, maybe Cullen would have questioned why Ser Carver was out and about when it wasn’t even his shift for the night patrol.

But Cullen didn’t stop to think, nor did he pay enough attention to notice the magic-proof cells’ key ring hanging from Ser Carver’s hip.

Oh well.

………….

Later Cullen wouldn’t be able to reason how he did it aside from sheer desperation, but he got the entire Order up and moving in less than five minutes. He briefly stopped by his quarters to get dressed, and then he dashed out of the Gallows, following the ever-faint pull of his Voice.

Where did you go?! He yelled into the Channel.

Without missing a beat, she replied, Lowtown. I hear the swill at the Hanged Man is almost as bad as Ferelden’s piss.

Snide comments? Really?

Why would you expect anything less of me?

His search led him to the docks(why didn’t he think of that first?!), and he had Templars on every single pier. The pull took him along the main dock, so she wasn’t in a boat just yet. He scoured the area, but he couldn’t find her. The pull eventually dissipated, much to his distress.

Velania, come out here, and maybe Meredith will let you live.

Don’t lie to me, she spat. We both know this night only ends with my freedom or my death. Congratulations, you’ll finally be rid of me, one way or--Oh no. Seriously?!

Oh no? Velania, tell me what-

But he didn’t have time to finish his thought, because a glowing blue man, no, an abomination sprung out from behind a rock and tackled one of the Knights. It leaped over Cullen and attacked the larger group of Templars, and of what little he could make out in the darkness, Cullen thought it almost looked like...Anders?

Yes, that was most certainly Anders, and if he was here, then Velania had to be somewhere nearby. Sure enough, behind Cullen (and where there were no Templars), he heard a grumble.

“Great. My friend is a ruddy abomination, my Voice is hunting me down, I have to go across the damned ocean, what’s next? Will Her Blessed Bitchiness’s head explode with rage? Will pigs fly? Who fucking knows anymore?”

Velania clambered out from behind the rocks as well, except she was carrying a small satchel and stomping straight for a small rowboat at the end of the dock. Cullen ran over to her, his bootsteps sounding loud against the wood. He grabbed her right arm and sternly began, “Velania-”

Wordlessly, she turned and decked him in the jaw.

His rear slammed into the wood for a mere second before he was being raised up into the air by the collar of his armor, and Cullen’s muscles ached with the power of a force spell. Velania held him up high enough for his feet to dangle, and she looked at him as though looking at an ant. He tried to make a purge, but his body refused to cooperate under the stress of her magic. She held him a moment longer, and then she flung him away as though he weighed little more than a cat.

She turned away from him before he even hit the wall. Cullen’s last glimpse of his Voice was of her sitting in the little rowboat all alone, gazing off into the sea as she stuck her hand in the water and fired up another force magic spell. His head slammed into the stone, and all went dark. When he woke up in the infirmary five hours later, Velania was long gone.

………….

The first week without Velania would later hurt Cullen to think about. Physically, he was in constant pain as his entire being tried to drag him to wherever she was to the south. His mood was disgruntled at best and livid at worst, and he couldn’t help but notice that his charges and his fellows alike avoided being around him when there were breakable materials at hand.

He saw her determined face every time he closed his eyes, and he slowly came to realize that he had never seen Velania reach her limits. She had gotten close on one occasion in Ferelden when she heard demons in her head for the first time and became so distressed that she blocked herself in one of the practice rooms and conjured up blocks of ice, only to incinerate them a moment later. The stunt landed her in the infirmary for a few days, after which she insisted that Greagoir and Irving put her through her Harrowing.

“If the voices are going to be a regular thing, I refuse to risk harming anyone,” she had argued. “I’d rather die than be made Tranquil, so just let me be tested already!”

One of Cullen’s first Harrowings had been hers. She had a somewhat rough Harrowing, making it out mere minutes before Greagoir called time, and afterward she sobbed on the chamber floor until Irving led her away. Cullen never knew what she saw in the Fade, and to his knowledge, nor did anyone else.

Since then, Cullen had seen her conquer challenge after challenge with a combination of ingenuity, skill, and, if all else failed, her fists. In her absence he found enlightenment, and it was with the knowledge that the Circles didn’t truly test her that Cullen came to understand just how strong she was.

Back before the Blight, she was a pain, sure, but that was only because she was bored and resigned to the fact that she would spend her days in the Circles. When she first came to Kirkwall, she kept herself busy with her studies and her tutelage of Apprentice Bernheart, determined to make sure the child made it through her Harrowing. She had expected to be dependent on the Circles for everything.

Now was different.

Now she had looked to her leaders and shook her head, not only dissatisfied, but frustrated as well. She had been pushed around and roughed up, and instead of becoming afraid, she had become hardened. Cullen would never forget the sheer disinterest in her eyes at the docks, as if she didn’t need him and never had.

Of course, Velania didn’t really need him or the Circles to survive. With her abilities, she could bring entire nations to their knees and raze the countryside with a single gesture. Demons circled her like vultures, yet she rose above them all. She knew who she was and what devastation she was capable of, but instead of going on a rampage, she controlled herself and wielded her power with a certain art that, from Cullen’s perspective, no other could ever contend with.

Neither the Chantry nor the Templar Order could truly control her, and she knew it.

Thus, Cullen was somewhere between terrified and in awe of his Voice. Each day was a cycle of glaring at maps, overthinking, and trying to get Velania to tell him where she was, with eating and sleeping scattered in between. Of course, nothing worked, Still, he had tried, and he had tried very hard.

Alright, Velania, where are you?

Up your butt and around the corner.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. Nevertheless, it became somewhat routine for him to slam open the Channel each morning and demand answers.

I’m going somewhere you’ll never find me, came the response one morning. I’ve already passed your morality and your sense of compassion, so I think I’m going the right way.

Another time, she said, Unlike you, I’m not an idiot that follows orders without a second thought. I actually think for myself.

Time passed, but their hostilities did not. Meredith sent for Velania’s phylactery from Denerim, and Cullen awaited the chance to go seek her out.

But the phylactery did not come.

They sent for the phylactery again and received nothing but an apologetic reply. The phylactery had been sent with a travelling merchant along the road to the northern ports of Ferelden, but the merchant had been slain and the phylactery stolen. A suspect had returned to Denerim for a time before vanishing, seemingly into thin air; they had no way of reclaiming the phylactery or tracking Velania.

Or, well, they would have had no way of tracking Velania if Cullen wasn’t her Voice. Their bond had been pulling him toward the south whenever possible, and, keeping in mind that her phylactery would have been near the coast, it wasn’t too difficult to determine that Velania was heading deeper into Ferelden. Cullen begged Meredith to let him go after her, but his superior insisted that she needed him to handle magic threats in their city. It took a lot of willpower to not declare Velania as his Voice, if for nothing else but to convince Meredith, but fear silenced him. Samson had been discharged for merely passing letters between mages. No matter his position, Meredith would surely send him away in case Velania had poisoned his mind somehow.

For the next several months, Cullen was stuck. Whatever he tried to do to catch her, Velania would just barely slip through his grasp. He sent five Knights to go after the rumors of her near Redcliffe, and she appeared behind them near Denerim. Meredith agreed to send a spy to find her, and the spy’s ashes were shipped back to Kirkwall in an urn with ‘nice try’ burned into the side. Each attempt showed her another opportunity to evade them, and Cullen found himself admiring and abhorring her simultaneously. It was terrible.

The frustration was more than enough to keep him up at night, but the few times he did get rest, his mind never ceased to betray him. He couldn’t say how many times he dreamt of Velania atop that bloody throne again, except now the throne was in a matching hall, and demons stood and roared at him as he approached her. She would always send him slipping either into the waking world or a nightmare about Uldred, but before she did that, she always said something like ‘Why are you back?’ or ‘You shouldn’t have come.’ Over time, Velania’s form started turning purple and saying things like ‘We’re getting close. Stay away from her.’ or ‘Just stop it already! You’re protecting her!’, things that made Cullen unsure about whether he should be scared of Velania or scared for her.

Unrelated to the demons impersonating his Voice, Cullen did attempt to let her go in part, but he couldn’t. Every night, he looked up into the sky and remembered how excited she was about the eclipse. If a candle so much as flickered in his office, he looked toward the door, half expecting her to sweep in as though she owned the place. Enchanter Shiari, then in her early 20s, and Apprentice Bernheart, nearing her 14th birthday, seemed to be missing something when they sat together at meals. The halls felt quieter, dimmer without Velania’s energy there, and Cullen got dressed each day with a slight ache in his chest. Did he miss her? No, of course not. Knight-Captains didn’t miss mages, regardless of any other connection to them. He cursed her name whenever he felt another pulse from her, and he still wanted her back in the Circle where she belonged and was safe. Who knew what she was up to out there, all alone? Was she planning revenge? A revolt? What if she really was a blood mage, and now Cullen had failed to protect the public from such a menace?

She just had to go be defiant, didn’t she? She couldn’t just be good and keep her head down, no, she had to make trouble for herself and for him. Maker’s breath, Cullen was never going to get a break at this rate.

Worst of all, Velania apparently thought she could contact him whenever she wanted, so he was constantly bombarded with thoughts that were to the rhythm of her footsteps as she travelled.

It’s-so-fuc-king-cold-in-this-Ma-ker-for-sa-ken-shit-hole-of-a-coun-try-and-if-you-think-I’m-going-to-stop-any-time-soon-then-guess-a-gain-bitch-be-cause-I-live-to-ru-in-your-life-now-

That one particular monologue went on for a straight three hours. Cullen knew she was stubborn, but damn.

………………..

They ended up arguing on a regular basis. Cullen hated hearing her voice (no he didn’t, he actually preferred it over the thought of her talking to demons), and he hated the confirmation that she wasn’t dead yet (still lying).

At least I do not come from Boringtown, population 10 Mabari! She yelled at him one evening. In Antiva, we have things like sriracha sauce and seasoning! You idiots just have biscuits and mashed potatoes!

He hastily replied, Yes, we do! And you know what?!

What?!

They are the most delicious things on this earth!

UGH! They are BLAND!

They are PERFECT! And we have seasoning, too!

Salt and pepper do not count!

It was a very aggressive tone of conversation to merely be talking about food, and later Meredith asked him why he got a triple helping of potatoes at dinner.

It may have been childish to open the Channel during dinner and yell, You know what I’m eating?? Potatoes! And they’re great! , but hearing Velania’s irritated roar was well worth it..

………….

One afternoon, when Cullen was going about his business like normal and merely walking in the hallway, pain unlike anything he’d experienced before shot through his body. He fell to the ground feeling as though he was being burned alive, and he couldn’t hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. Nothing was wrong with his body, he knew, but something was wrong with Velania. Very, very wrong.

What just happened?! He called out.

No response.

Velania?!

Nothing.

VELANIA!

Still nothing. The pain stopped, and Cullen was rushed to the infirmary against his wishes.

That night, Cullen was declared free to go, and Meredith sent for him. As soon as he closed her office door behind him, she asked, “Cullen, what is the meaning of whatever that was earlier?”

He didn’t know what to say other than the truth.

“My Voice is a mage. She did...something. I don’t know what, but she’s never done it before.”

Meredith looked at him and crossed her arms. “Do I need to remind you that relationships of any nature with mages are strictly forbidden? Especially those between Voices?”

“Knight-Commander, you have nothing to worry about.” He mirrored her body. “You know I’m loyal to you and the Order.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Softer, she added, “I need my Knight-Captain at my side. I know how difficult it is to have a mage Voice, but you have to focus on your duties. Is your Voice here? We could always make her Tranquil, if you just say the word.”

Cullen shook his head, swallowing hard. Was he really going to say it? “No, she’s not here….It’s Velania.”

There it was. Meredith’s eyes widened in surprise before she blinked. “Well, I can’t say I expected that, but it does make a fair amount of sense.” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, “Don’t worry, we’ll find her, and we’ll make sure she’s not a threat anymore.”

“Thank you, Knight-Commander.” It was good to know that, even if Cullen felt as though he was slowly going insane, his commanding officer still cared about and encouraged him. He owed her so much.

Velania never responded to his attempts to talk to her, and since he couldn’t make her open her end of the Channel, he was forced to wait for her. Months passed while the Channel lay untouched, and Cullen’s curiosity waned. After all, Velania didn’t seem to be actively doing something like blood magic, while the mages in front of Cullen were starting to become maleficarum more and more. He had more pressing priorities than one rogue mage as relations between mages and templars fell apart even more.

Oddly enough, Cullen started noticing fear in the eyes of both parties in the presence of Meredith. He took care of most disciplinary measures, since mages were scared of being made Tranquil, and Templars were scared of being discharged or restricted on their lyrium supplies. Meredith became almost irrational in her duties, but Cullen still stood by her and defended her when others spoke ill of her.

But he didn’t like it.

………….

Less than two years after Velania left, Anders blew up the Chantry and Meredith called for the Rite of Annulment. Marian Hawke stood with her fellow mages, and as the Order prepared for the battle, Cullen dragged open the long-untouched Channel.

Did you know about this? he demanded. Anders blowing up the Chantry?

The response was immediate. Anders did WHAT?! You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding.

Unfortunately, no, and Meredith has called for the Rite of Annulment.

What? She whispered, worried mutterings growing in volume. No. No, no, no! You can’t go through with it, Templar,-

Orders have been given.

Fuck the orders! Just because the bitch claims to be doing the Maker’s will doesn’t mean she actually is! Even you surely can’t see the reason in this, blaming an entire Circle for one apostate’s crimes! This isn’t what Templars are supposed to be about! Please, Templar, don’t kill innocent people just because Anders is a radical dumbass!

He did not respond. The barrier between his mindset now and his mindset pre-Blight became even more cracked, but it held nonetheless.

Velania sighed heavily through their connection. Fine, ignore me. Just....when it’s all over, tell me about it. Please. And if Shiari or Lily die and I find out about it, you lot better be ready to face me.

Cullen didn’t have time to respond. “Templars!” Meredith called. “The Champion approaches! Get ready!”

Marian Hawke always struck fear into the hearts of her opponents. Her blue eyes were razor-sharp, and if you dared to disrespect her loved ones, her tongue would cut you as well. Seeing as how sarcastic Ser Carver could be sometimes, being a smart ass must have run in their family. At her side, as always, was Messere Varric Tethras and the rest of her ragtag band of misfits, minus Anders. However, this wasn’t the usual pop-in visit, as was reflected by their solemn faces, drawn weapons, and the Champion’s staff that glowed with power.

“Meredith,” she called. “I’m giving you one last chance to stand down.”

The Order’s leader laughed heartily, “ You’re giving me a chance? Look around you, Champion. My knights stand ready to obey the Maker’s will at a moment’s notice, and if you don’t surrender right now, you will join your brethren in their slaughter.”

That last bit wasn’t right. “We agreed to arrest the Champion!” Heads turned to look at Cullen as he spoke, but he refused to falter, not even as Meredith’s own steely gaze fell upon him.

“You will do as I say, Cullen,” she commanded.

“No.”

“ What ?”

Cullen shook his head. “This is too far. I have defended you when others started saying you were insane, and I did not question when you kept things from me, but something this major? Killing someone instead of arresting them as planned? This is madness!”

“I will not tolerate insubordination! ” She cried, and then Meredith pulled out the giant glowing sword. As she explained to the Champion how she acquired the red lyrium idol, Cullen began to notice the wild look in her eyes. It became more obvious how far gone her mind was as she lovingly ran a finger down the flat side of the blade. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed it sooner, and when Ser Carver refused to fight the Champion, he stood right alongside him.

“Knight-Commander, I relieve you of your command!” Cullen said. “Step down!” Meredith’s glare bore into him, but he stood his ground. Velania’s words echoed in his ears; he had to do what was right. “This isn’t what the Templar Order is about!”

“ My own Knight-Captain, turned against me? ” she muttered. “You, who couldn’t even control your own Voice? Velania has poisoned your mind with blood magic!” When Cullen didn’t bat an eyelash(although he certainly didn’t appreciate her announcing his connection to Velania to everyone), Meredith turned to the rest of their group. “Yes, I see now! All of you, manipulated by the evil mages and their corruption! It would seem that I have to do the Maker’s work by myself, as his humble servant!” She spun erratically as she spoke, her sword humming with energy just begging to be released.

Beside him, Ser Carver remained silent and unsheathed his sword. Cullen did the same.

Was he really going to fight the woman he had faithfully served and followed without question, who had encouraged his ideologies and took an interest in his career when others thought him to be crazy?

Yes. Absolutely.

He had joined the Order to protect others. This wasn’t protection. This was destruction.

A moment before the battle began, he pulled open the Channel again.

You were right.

.......

After the battle, Cullen lead the Templars in taking care of their own injuries and those of the few mages that hadn’t left with the Champion. His own injuries were on a lesser scale, merely a few scratches and a small cut that would scar over on his lip from Meredith’s foul blade. He worked with Guard Captain Aveline and her men to coordinate efforts to unearth anyone that might be trapped under the rubble of the Chantry. The Gallows had so many empty rooms, they were able to open up several of them to the public as an infirmary, and the Viscount’s Keep did the same. The mages weren’t allowed near the civilians, of course, save for the odd spirit healer. The ill and homeless from Darktown came to the infirmaries as well, but at this point Cullen didn’t really care. His first concern was stopping those hurt in the events from dying, and then he could worry about rebuilding the Chantry.

However, any plans he might have had were interrupted only a week after recovery began, when one of the younger templars came into his office.

“Kn-Knight Captain,” the boy nervously said. “You have a visitor.”

Cullen made a grunt of annoyance from his desk. “Now? Who on earth is it?”

“She didn’t say her name, sir, but she is wearing the Seekers’ emblem.” At that, Cullen froze and swallowed hard. Had word of the Chantry explosion really travelled so fast that a Seeker was already here?

“Very well. Send her in.” In the few seconds he had, he tried to tidy up the papers strewn around his working space as much as he could. He was in the middle of shoving some things in a drawer when the door reopened and in stepped a female Seeker with dark hair, grey eyes, and some rather striking scars on her face.

“Are you Knight-Captain Cullen?” she asked in a Nevarran accent.

“I am.” Cullen stood up, coming around to the front of his desk.

“Good. I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine.” She strode forward to meet him and look him dead in the eyes, because apparently dropping ‘Right Hand of the Divine’ wasn’t intimidating enough. “Since my arrival, I have been informed that Knight-Commander Meredith is that statue outside, and you are now in charge. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Cullen said. “I presume you are here regarding the events that have happened as of late?”

“I am not, although I am curious, and my business is certainly connected.” In a harsher tone, she shoved a paper into his face. “Explain this. ”

He gently took it from her, and upon seeing that it was a letter, skipped to the sender’s signature. He had a hunch just based off of the familiar handwriting, but he needed to be sure.

‘ Yours truly ,’ it read, ‘ Enchanter Velania ’.

His hunch was correct.

Cullen inwardly sighed as he went back to the beginning. He glanced at the Seeker, who was taking a moment to walk around the room, before he began to read.

The entire letter covered a single page, front and back, and in it Velania described the several offenses done to her people under Meredith’s regime. Some things Cullen had never heard about, but he made a note to ask his men about them. After all, if Meredith didn’t tell him about her true intentions with the Champion, who knew what else she kept from him?

Ser Alrik had an entire paragraph dedicated to him, including, but not limited to, his Tranquil Solution and his...unrequited fondness...for some of the female mages and Tranquil. The latter Cullen had no prior knowledge of, but then again, if he thought enough about it with that in mind, strange occurrences involving that man were suddenly cleared up, and Cullen thanked the Maker that Alrik was dead and gone. Another mental note was made to be specific to his men later that anyone preying on their charges would have to answer to him.

Among the other actions listed were using the Rite of Tranquility as a punishment (also given an entire paragraph), Meredith’s intolerance for criticism, Orsino’s inefficiency as a group leader, and Grand Cleric Elthina’s inaction. Cullen saw his own name written several times when Velania used him as an example for how Meredith encouraged radicalism in those under her command, contrasting his quick promotions with Ser Thrask’s stagnant progress in his career despite carrying out his duties just as well as Cullen, albeit with a more sympathetic mindset.

The closing was focused on urging the Seeker into action.

‘ My people, those I consider to be my family, are too frightened of Tranquility to do anything ,’ it wrote. ‘ Those with the local authority to do something also refuse to take action. I am only one mage against an entire Circle of anti-magic soldiers, and even as I write this, I am a runaway expecting to be found any day. I acknowledge that my mere status as a wanted apostate may deem my words worthless to you, but I’m running out of options. Without outside intervention, violence between our two groups is the only outcome I can see. I beg of you, please, just get your colleagues together and do your fucking jobs. Police the Templars already, before innocent people get hurt. Please.

Yours truly, Enchanter Velania .’

Cullen let his hand holding the letter fall to the side, and his other hand rose to rub his temples. He could feel the oncoming headache, both metaphorical and literal, but he had to give Velania credit for her work. It, for the most part, was well-written and relatively objective. Seeing it all on paper made it seem like a mountain of evidence against the Order, and Cullen felt his stomach start to churn. What did the Seeker plan to do?

Coming back to stand beside him, the Seeker said, “Attached to the letter were no less than seven mages’ documents for the Rite of Tranquility, as well as the papers showing their prior Harrowings. My colleagues received similar letters, but I was the only one to receive the documents. I presume she must have stolen them from your vaults.”

Cullen nodded. He had thought some things down there were out of order. “That would be correct.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, Knight-Captain, but does the Templar Order not reserve the Rite of Tranquility as a last resort even before a mage has passed their Harrowing? In which case, it would be very curious indeed that you would have seven mages in that situation over a short period of time in one Circle, wouldn’t it?”

Cullen nodded again, fighting back a grimace. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Well, this Velania certainly went through a lot of trouble to try to support her case.” The Seeker crossed her arms. “However, it would seem that things have changed since she became an apostate….That settles it, I’m staying.”

Cullen couldn’t believe his ears. “I beg your pardon?”

She gave him a stern look. “Knight-Captain, your Circle is in shambles, as is your city. You have no viscount, no Grand Cleric, and no Knight-Commander. I think you need all the help you can get.” Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but she gestured to Velania’s letter and added, “And, while I’m helping, you can tell me all about this letter.”

And so Seeker Pentaghast stayed, as did the Left Hand of the Divine, Sister Leliana. The latter recognized Cullen immediately from the Ferelden Circle during the Blight, and as she somehow managed to get whatever information she wanted out of people without physically harming them, Cullen grew to almost fear her. He thought she enjoyed it, though, so he tried not to think about it too much.

Cullen didn’t mind their help; it was actually rather nice to have the responsibility shared. However, it soon became apparent that the help came at a price.

“They say that your Voice is a mage,” Sister Leliana said as she cornered him at breakfast. “And I can’t help but notice that Velania has been in the same Circles as you.”

“Not quite true,” he responded, trying to keep his nerves down. He’d kept his relationship with Velania secret for years when they were kids; he could probably evade any questions, even if Sister Leliana was looking at him as though she knew something he didn’t. “Velania came from Antiva, where I have never been.”

“But you’ve spent almost all of your time as a Templar with her.”

“I’ve also spent almost all of my time with Enchanter Rose. Are you going to question me about her, too?”

“Ah, but her Voice was her little sister that died of a fever before the Blight.”

Cullen looked at her incredulously. “How do you know that?”

“I know a lot of things,” she said. “It’s my responsibility as the Left Hand of the Divine. So, if Velania isn’t your Voice, who is it?”

Shit. Cullen’s mind went blank, and he could feel the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of some answer to this before? “It’s, um,” Sister Leliana looked at him curiously, letting him flounder like a worm on a hook. He internally sighed before looking around him. No one else within earshot. Quietly, and with enough venom to let her know he wasn’t happy about this, he hissed, “Fine. It’s her.”

She smiled triumphantly, and Cullen had a hunch that she merely wanted him to confirm it. Later that day, Seeker Pentaghast came to his office to badger him with questions about his relationship with Velania, and it took all of his willpower to not slam the door in her face.

Speaking of Velania, she hadn’t taken the news of Anders’ actions very well. When Cullen told her about Orsino’s fate, she started feeling sick and made him change the subject. She laughed at Meredith, singing under her breath ‘she had it coming, she had it coming, she had it coming all along~’, and Cullen really couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. She was beyond relieved when he told her that Enchanter Shiari and Apprentice Bernheart had indeed survived and left with the Champion.

What about Knight-Captain Cullen? She eventually asked.

Cullen hesitated. This was a chance to tell her who he was, and since the Circle wasn’t functioning like normal, there wouldn’t be any immediate repercussions for telling her, right? Still, he worried. What if she cut off all communication with him when she found out? He hated to admit it, but it had become routine to open the Channel on a whim and shoot smart comments back and forth. He didn’t want to lose that.

So, he merely said, He’s…. struggling with some things. He really thought he could trust Meredith. We all did.

She said nothing for a moment, then quietly muttered, Yeah, I know what it’s like to have someone suddenly turn on you.

The words hung in the air. They hadn’t ever talked about that morning back in Ferelden. Maker, he had been rather harsh, hadn’t he? Mage or no, she really hadn’t deserved that.

About that, Velania…. I think we need to talk about us.

Again, she hesitated. Tone controlled, she replied, There’s no ‘us’ to talk about. You know that. You just go be the Maker-sent knight you’ve always been, and I’ll keep being the public menace I’ve always been. Goodnight.

Cullen felt her start to close the Channel. Wait! He called, but she ignored him. I know I messed up back then. I was angry and scared, and I hurt you because of it. Andraste knows I’m about as close to being Maker-sent as you are to being a magical theory expert, now more than ever. He took a deep breath. While my emotions explain my behavior, they don’t excuse it. I’m sorry.

There, he said it; however, she didn’t respond.

Velania? Nothing. I suppose I can’t make you talk. Sweet dreams.

That night, Cullen was dropped into the bloody throne room yet again, except this time Velania’s form was less humanlike and more demonic. Horns erupted from her head, and she was three times her normal height. Grey scales covered her arms and legs, but her face, despite being the most human, unsettled Cullen most of all. It looked like Velania, if she had eight purple eyes and fangs the size of a pointer finger. In a voice not her own, the monstrosity growled, “First Sloth gets in the way, and now you. You know, I thought I scared you enough the first time, when I pretended to be her-”

“So that was you. She never talked to me like that.”

“Of course it was always me! Have you met her? She has absolutely no desire for power over others, no need for extra mana, and all that stupid morality --” It groaned, rolling its several eyes. “She would never imagine herself on a blood-covered throne, and she certainly has no idea that you’re her Voice! But enough about that, since you clearly didn’t pick up on the biggest shocker of that conversation. So, what do you want in exchange for her, hmm? Glory, to be the one to strike down the greatest abomination this world has ever seen? The comfort of knowing she can’t hurt anyone else? Everyone has a price. Name yours.”

Cullen looked at it unwaveringly. “I don’t make deals with demons.”

The demon growled again before tromping in front of him. Towering over Cullen, it hissed, “I don’t think you understand how close we are. She has nothing except for her life and that dumb creature, and she knows it. Her power will be ours, Templar; it’s inevitable. The only thing truly holding her back from us is this teeny tiny little scrap of a relationship with you. All you have to do is speed it up a little; break her heart again or something. Do that, and we can give you whatever you want.”

“Never.”

It narrowed its eyes at him. “Very well. Perhaps reliving your imprisonment in Ferelden will make you more agreeable,” it said, and with a snap of its fingers, Cullen was cast into yet another nightmare. He woke up covered in a cold sweat, but when he looked himself in the mirror that day, he took a page out of Velania’s book.

He would not give in to demons.

He would protect his Voice.

And if that was a problem to anyone, they could kiss his ass.

……….

Every night before going to sleep, Cullen started talking to Velania as he had back when they were kids. She never responded, but he had a feeling she was listening regardless. The demon didn’t reappear to him, which was hopefully a good thing.

Today, Ser Andrew and Ser Yolanda decided to start a band. I can’t remember the name, but it was some awful pun that you would probably love. With so few charges, we have the free time for them two to schedule practices every other night for the next three weeks. Needless to say, I’m going to try to find someone to sell me some earplugs. Ser Andrew may have been nice enough to make cookies that one Satinalia, but I can’t bear to listen to the man when he cannot sing to save his life. What else happened today….Oh!.....

It may not have done anything; perhaps it made Velania want to strangle him if it meant he was quiet. He didn’t know.

But he was willing to try if it meant she’d be safe.

…………….

He continued to talk to Velania about the daily ongoings for three weeks straight. The parts about the Seeker and Sister Leliana he accidentally forgot to mention; they had gone off on some task for the Divine (something about finding Messere Varric Tethras). Velania still wouldn’t answer, and frankly, Cullen didn’t blame her. Did she hate him? Was he pushing the issue too much? If he had been treated like he’d treated her, Maker knew how little he’d want to do with the person afterwards. Just when Cullen was wondering if this was Velania’s way of breaking all ties with him, she answered.

Templar, she said, what do you hope to gain from this? I’m not going to tell you where I am, no matter how many times you ask.

I…. What did Cullen hope to gain?... I suppose I don’t know. But I know I want to talk to you.

You know you want to…. You don’t make any sense, you know that? First you flip from whatever we were to hating me on principle, and now, after you’ve been in Kirkwall and probably treated my people poorly, you flip again? Pick a side, Templar; you can’t keep doing this.

Then I pick your side, Cullen responded immediately, and he heard her sputter before hissing, For the last time, I’m not going to listen to you fuckers.

Alarms started going off in Cullen’s head. Velania?

….Ignore what I just said.

It was a demon, right? It’s okay; I know. One came and talked to me the other night.

She groaned. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know which one bothered you or what they said about me. Just, let’s get back on track. You can’t up and decide to pick my side on things.

And why not?

Because of who we are, dummy! You’re a Kirkwall Templar, and I’m an escaped Kirkwall mage. There’s no way on this earth that we have a happy ending. In another world, maybe, but in this one we’re only going to crash and burn again.

Cullen thought for a moment. She had a point, but couldn’t they at least try ? Perhaps she would listen to a more logical perspective. Tentatively, he suggested, If I may, we are fated to meet again and again as long as we both shall live, remember? If you don’t want to talk to me for emotional reasons, then look at it from the standpoint of us never being rid of each other, so we may as well be on good terms.

She hesitated, and then sighed. I suppose I could do that, Templar, just- She paused, sighing again. Promise me something. This time, no rules, labels, or commitments. Nothing in here changes how we act outside our own heads. We simply are what we are, and when the day comes that we can’t stand each other anymore, we stop talking and go our separate ways.

Is that what you want?

It’s what I can afford.

Still holding back, then. Understandable, considering everything. Alright.

It didn’t feel like progress, but he’d take it.

…………..

Months passed. Velania began to warm up, bit by bit. It started with smart comments on Cullen’s activities, but soon it turned into her sharing parts of her day too. Maybe she was expressing her hate for needles as she fixed a hole in her pants, or perhaps an attempt to make sweetrolls turned sour when she somehow got covered in flour. It was the little things, the mundane of everyday. Or, well, as mundane as things were where Velania was concerned.

Hey Templar, she called one evening, I found this mushroom that I’ve never seen before. What do you think will happen if I put it in a stew?

Um, I think that is an absolutely horrible ide-

Too late. Adding it now….Ooooh, it turned bright orange! How much of the stew do you think I should ingest?

None of it.

But Templaaarrr! She whined. That’s no fun! I’m going to drink at least half of this bottle.

Velania, please-

Too late; bottom’s up…..And now I kind of feel funny.

…..Maker. Have. Mercy.

She was going to be the death of him at this rate, but if this was how Cullen lost his mind, maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad.

…………..

Seeker Cassandra was offering him a job. Not ordering him to take it, as she clearly stated, but offering it. A clear choice. Part of him felt guilty for even considering turning his back on the Order after so many years of devotion, but at the same time, Cullen was just done. Once he factored in the possible benefits of leaving the Order behind, as well as the fact that going south with the Divine’s agents might bring him closer to Velania, and it was a sealed deal.

One good thing about the Order’s ‘no personal items’ rule was how it took Cullen all of an hour to pack up his things. The last thing he put away was his lyrium kit; it was about time for his next dosage. Yet, as he looked at the kit and thought about how this job would hopefully be a new start, he wondered: how much did he want to break away from the Order? He knew the consequences of going off of lyrium long-term, but still he wondered. In the end, his attempt to free himself of his addiction was more of an impulse, a thought of I can just take the dosage later , just a simple, small thing that became one of the biggest struggles in Cullen’s life.

But he didn’t know that then. At that moment, he packed up his lyrium kit and stowed it away with his things, and he left for the docks without looking back.

After all, Kirkwall was the City of Chains, and Cullen was done being tied up.

……….

“Ferelden may not be any better.”

Cullen looked at Varric Tethras as they stood together on the deck of the boat. It’d been years since he’d seen his home, and for a good part of that time, Velania had been running amok. Still, there was only so much damage that could have possibly been done. “I was there during the Blight,” he responded, a smile just barely registering on his face. “It can’t be worse .”

Varric raised an eyebrow, snorted, and changed the subject, “So, Curly, word on the street is that the Antivan pyromancer is your Voice.”

“What makes you think that?”

The dwarf shook his head. “I cannot reveal my sources.”

Cullen side-eyed him. “It was Carver, wasn’t it?”

“Still not telling, Curly.” But the dwarf had a twinkle in his eye that said Cullen was right. “Seriously though, I’m sure you must have some interesting stories to tell about her, and-” he gestured to the sea around them “it would seem that we have plenty of time.”

The dwarf had a point, and Cullen was starting to get bored, so he started talking. He didn’t tell Varric everything, especially anything that he thought Velania would want to conceal, but he told Varric an awful lot. When he finally had to stop before he lost his voice, Varric looked at him and shook his head. “You really miss this mage, don’t you?”

Cullen looked at him, and for the first time, he truly and fully admitted it to himself.

“Yes, it would seem so.”

…………..

Please tell me I’m hallucinating right now.

Everything that could go wrong seemed to be going wrong. The Conclave was a disaster, Divine Justinia was dead, there was a bloody hole in the sky , and now Velania was distracting him.

Cullen cut down another demon. Unfortunately, no, and I’m kind of in the thick of it right now, so if you could please shut up , that’d be great.

YOU’RE RIGHT NEAR THAT THING?!!

A Terror’s claws missed Cullen’s head by inches. Velania, you’re being a distraction-

Alright, I’m out, just don’t you dare die on me. She closed the Channel, and Cullen snorted despite the demon lunging toward him. She had told him not to die; coming from her, that was big.

………..

The first part of Cullen’s time with the Inquisition flew by in a blur of paperwork and withdrawal-induced headaches. The Herald went off to the Hinterlands, and then Velania started talking about meeting a Seeker. He had gotten his hopes up, sure, but they were dashed when Velania explicitly stated Ser Cullen as the issue. He had given up until he saw that flicker of flame on that night in the forest, and it was like the world was right again. She was there with him, at long last.

And then he went and overwhelmed her with apologies again, and she ran away into the night.

Maker's sweet breath, when was Cullen going to stop fucking up?

Chapter Text

Cullen POV

Cullen wandered back toward his tent. He could feel Velania’s presence pulling him toward her, but he resisted. He had only made things worse, it would seem, and now he didn’t know what to do. What could he do? Talking to her would scare her away again, and what if Cullen drove her so far as to run-

“Commander?” Cullen looked up and saw the glow of Messere Lavellan’s elven eyes. “What are you doing out here?” Lavellan asked, holding his hands behind his back like he was hiding something.

He was there, Cullen thought, when I saw the hart the first time. She had to have been there. He knew! He knew, and he didn’t tell me.

Cullen said, “You knew. She’s been here since you got back, and you kept that from me.”

At his words, the Herald’s shoulders sagged. “Mythal’s tits, you found her,” he sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with this anytime soon.”

“Why did you lie to me?” Cullen accusingly asked. He had already had Meredith lie to him, and if the Herald was going to start lying, too, he wanted to know. “I won’t hurt her.”

Lavellan explained, “But she doesn’t know that. This was the only way I could get her to join, Commander. Varric wasn’t lying when he said that she kicked us out as soon as we mentioned you. Now, please just...just stay here or something. And hold this.” Cullen was briskly handed a basket of apples. Turning away from Cullen, Fellassan ran off somewhere to the north, muttering to himself, “...and now Varric owes her ten sovereigns….”

And then he ran out of earshot, and a very confused Cullen was left in the snow holding the big basket of apples. While Cullen waited, he looked at the basket, and he found that there were over thirty apples in the basket. (Yes, he counted; he was bored.) The basket wasn’t even that big; it was a wonder Fellassan had managed to make them fit somehow. What did he need this many apples for?

Don’t harts eat apples? He thought. That hart of Velania’s does seem like it’d need to eat a lot. Still, aren’t apples rather sugary? I don’t want to know how often she has to clean his teeth. How would she even do teeth cleanings on a hart?

Cullen suddenly realized that he was seriously pondering hart dental hygiene. How did he end up in this position, again? Oh, that’s right, he was bound to Velania, and she had just swept into his life yet again and turned everything upside down.

Well, maybe not everything , but Cullen wouldn’t be standing here and holding an excessively full basket of apples if it weren’t for her.

Cullen looked around himself (still alone, still cold) and sighed, nodding to himself. This was his life.

Velania POV

Fuck, she didn’t know what to do.

“Sachiiiii,” she groaned, pacing back and forth. “Why do I have to be indecisive?”

“Mrph.”

She paused, readjusting her arms full of bags so she could put a hand on her hip. “Of course I want to stay, but I don’t really have a choice, do I? Ser Cullen knows I’m here, and he’s….” She trailed off, putting her bags down so she could easier pace and run her fingers through her hair. To herself more than anyone else, she muttered, “A lot of things is what that man is.”

“Eeiooooo.”

“Ooohhh, don’t give me that!” she snapped. “I know he seemed genuine! He’s been genuine from the moment I met him! He genuinely threatened to make me Tranquil before I left! He genuinely believed in Meredith! He’s just a genuine person without a single dishonest bone in his stupid, determined, genuine body!”

One of the demons, probably Pride, muttered, Girl, you have some serious issues.

You don’t fucking say.

“Brauuuuu.”

At that, she felt herself start to deflate. “I know, you’re right,” she sighed, reaching out to give her hart a hug. “I shouldn’t get so worked up over him. He just… He’s so…” She sighed again, and Sachi nuzzled her hair and messed it up sufficiently. “He just sweeps in and says things with such conviction , like there’s nothing I can do about it, so I may as well accept it as fact. It reminds me of what it was like to be sick and tired of being pushed around and still having to take it and take it and take it. He can’t possibly break away from the Order. Not really, anyways; he’s too devoted to it. Even after the Blight, he stayed; he wouldn’t just shake the Order off now. He’s boxed in, as am I, it would seem. See, you’re lucky, Sachi, because you’re a hart, and you don’t have to worry about these things. Our stupid people culture is meaningless to you.”

“Eiiuuu.”

“Yes, all is well as long as you get your apples.” She pulled back, then kissed Sachi on his wittle soft nosie nose. “Speaking of apples, I wonder if Fellassan will come looking for us tonight. I would like to at least say goodbye if I stop being stupid and just leave. I mean, we should probably go. Ser Cullen’s going to get on my ass about everything if we stay, if he’s not still convinced that-”

“Please don’t leave!”

Velania turned and was immediately embraced by two lanky arms. She smiled. “Hey, Fellassan. I was just wondering if you were going to show up.”

“Of course,” he said, grinning as he pulled away a bit. “I left the apples with the Commander, though, so the three of us have to go talk to him.”

At that, she pulled herself completely out of his arms, clasping his wrists in her fingers. She sternly said, “Fellassan, no.”

“Fellassan, yes,” came his shameless response, and he tugged at her hands in the direction he had come from. “You two need to talk things through.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“Why should I? So he can once again accuse me of blood magic and call me irrational and overly emotional?” She shook her head firmly. “Even if I wished to subject myself to such things, his head would likely implode from how little control I’d let him have over me. He probably thinks I’m incapable of functioning without him watching over my shoulder.”

Fellassan drew closer, wrestling his wrists free from Velania’s grasp. His bright amber eyes bored into her solemnly as he said, “Then prove him wrong. Stay and show him up. Be the contradiction to every word he’s ever breathed about you.”

She started to protest, “Fellassan-“

“There is so much that he doesn’t know about you,” he continued, “He blabs about you and your fire for hours, but he never mentions your paintings or your thoughts on religion and philosophy. He doesn’t know about how you can just create spells and potions through trial and error.” He paused, taking her face in his palms, and earnestly said, “My friend, you are so much more than whatever Commander Cullen saw in the Circles; you just have to give him time to see it.”

He lies. You’ll never find peace, the demons cried, Take one look at your wrist and tell us otherwise.

The demons spoke the truth, most likely, but alas, for Velania was a selfish fool. Her heart was already set on staying, while her mind screamed at her to leave before she ruined everything.

“Somehow I doubt he honestly wants me around,” she said.

Fellassan brightened; he knew her well enough to know that entertaining the idea was almost the same as agreeing to it. “He will, I’m sure of it. He may just be a little bit…...timid. But it’ll be fine.”

“He has every right to be scared of me.” She crossed her arms. “I’m terrifying.”

He gave her a look, eyebrow raised and head tilted. He said, “Velania, just last week you ran from a moth.”

“Nothing should have a curly mouth or fuzzy antennae!”

He rolled his eyes, smiling, and soon enough she was smiling. Just a teeny bit though, because now she was thinking about moths and shuddering. Moths were the scum of the earth, the real demons, and Velania was willing to stand by that, as sure as her Voice thought salt was a proper stand-alone seasoning.

Fellassan interrupted her thoughts with an outstretched hand. “So, Velania, are you in?”

She looked him in the eye, and, not for the first time, she found the sheer confidence in his gaze almost unnerving. Really, it was like he had maxed out persuasion skill or something. Had he been a demon, she would have given in long ago.

But he wasn’t a demon; he was a dork of an elf, and the closest thing Velania had to a non-furry friend. Was she in?

“Fuck it. Not like I have anything better to do.”

He beamed as she grabbed his hand. “Excellent. Now let’s go find ourselves a Commander.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just shove a basket into his hands and run off.”

“Well……”

“Fellassan, you shouldn’t just do that!”

“I didn’t know what he had said to you! I had to make sure you were okay!”

Velania blinked. She was still getting used to non-mages worrying over her well-being, but she was better than she used to be. Slowly, she said, “You know I can take care of myself.”

He shrugged, then moved to hug her again; she let him. “I know, but just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you have to. I’m totally game for trashing people from time to time, you know,” he said, his tone quickly turning from serious to a joking whine. “Everyone’s so stand-offish here, and I swear, Fereldans don’t hug at all! Just you and Varric like hugs, and that’s it! Like, where’s the love, you warm-blooded heathens?!”

Despite herself and the fact that staying near Ser Cullen should have made her blood boil, Velania found it within herself to laugh. She eventually got Fellassan to pipe down long enough for them to mount Sachi(who had been placing Velania’s bags up in the trees for them to come back to later), and then the three of them went off wherever Sachi thought he smelled Ser Cullen.

Cullen POV

Cullen was still awkwardly waiting in the cold, still holding the basket of apples, and still hoping no one found him and asked what he was doing.

Two more minutes, he told himself, and then I’m going back to my tent.

So he started counting, and with less than ten seconds before time was up, he heard the hoofsteps. When he looked up and watched the big shadowy mass slow down before him. Velania was here; her mana oozed into the air and into every pore of his body, making old Templar instincts kick in and make him more alert. He couldn’t see very well, as the moon had gone behind a cloud, but the Herald’s eyes still glowed faintly behind a smaller shadow on Sachi’s back.

“Hello again, Commander,” he greeted. “You could have put those apples down, you know.”

He opened his mouth to stammer something, but he was interrupted by the voice he knew better than the back of his hand. It murmured, “All the better, I think. Sachi can get at them much better this way.”

Sure enough, the ravenous shadow of a beast reached out and carefully plucked an apple from the top of the pile. Fellassan dismounted, but Cullen didn’t hear another pair of feet hit the ground. Then, once the hart’s munch-munch-munching had stopped, Velania snapped her fingers and made a flame bright enough to see by, and all of Cullen’s thoughts fled from his mind.

The flame hovered in front of her chest, casting shadows on her face. Her hair shone, reflecting some of the light; her eyes burned into him, gaze locked on his. In their previous conversation of the night, Cullen had been too wrapped up in her presence to notice the subtle changes to her appearance: her eyes were much sharper; her skin was a bit darker; she wore a long-sleeved black shirt that was slightly too big for her and black leather pants that hugged her hips in a way Cullen couldn’t help but notice; both pieces of clothing had several mends scattered throughout; and her shoulders and arms seemed more defined than he had ever seen them.

“What’s the matter with you, Templar?” she said (in a slightly more diluted Antivan accent), and Cullen quickly closed his mouth that he hadn’t realized was gaping open.

“I-um-I was just….” Maker’s breath, he didn’t know what to say, and that was never a good situation. “Have you lost weight?”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Velania looked at him confusedly, eyebrow arched as far as it could possibly go. “ Excuse me? If this is your idea of flattery, it’s a shitty attempt.”

His hand rose to rub behind his neck while he silently prayed to the Maker. He nervously said, “I didn’t mean it like that! I just….You seem a bit smaller than you used to be. Are you eating enough?”

That apparently wasn’t a good response either, because Velania gave him a dry look. “I believe that’s my business and not yours.”

The Herald cut in, “Yes, she has been eating. Sachi gets upset with her if she doesn’t.”

At the mention of his name, Sachi let out a little ‘pphh’ and stepped forward to grab another apple. Velania was still on his back, and Cullen asked, “So, are you going to stay up there, or-“

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Her eyes roamed over him, and Cullen wanted to say she was studying him just as much as he had studied her. She eventually added, “I think I like being taller than you for once.”

Lighter conversation! Cullen could surely do lighter conversation! “You’re not that short.”

She shrugged and reached out a hand. “Basket, please.”

Fellassan interjected, “Velania, there’s actually something in the basket for you. It’s just under all the apples.”

Giving the elf a curious look, Velania dismounted and took the basket from Cullen. She put it on the ground and started sifting through it until she found a blue cloth with red cords attached to it. Her brow furrowed as she stood up with it, unfolding it until-

Oh. It was most certainly something bra-like. Cullen felt blood rushing to his face. Why was the Herald giving her something like that?

Velania apparently had a similar train of thought, because she flung it away from her into the snow. “Eelgh! What the fuck , Fellassan! You don’t even like girls!”

“It’s armor!” the Herald argued, picking it up and brushing the cloth off.

“It is not !”

“It’s light armor, called an antaam-saar! I think only mages can use it, and Solas won’t wear it!” he whined.

“For a perfectly good reason!” she shot back.”Find someone else to wear your weird bondage armor!”

“What if I paid you?”

“Absolutely not.”

They bickered for a moment longer, but Cullen zoned out. His mind had tried to imagine Velania in that ‘armor’ (not intentionally!!!), which was a big, large, huge mistake, and he spent the next few minutes blushing at the ground and trying to clear his head. He didn’t really want to think about the implications of his reaction, so instead he focused on the fact that Velania surely wouldn’t appreciate his thoughts drifting in that direction. Yes, this reaction was completely inappropriate given their current position and relationship, and…. and….

He was looking down at the basket. “Velania, there’s another piece.”

“There is?”

Cullen nodded, delicately picking up the red cords. Hopefully this part will be more protect...ive….

His eyes went wide; it was little more than a loincloth.

(In the background, Fellassan cried, “That’s what I forgot! The pants to go with it!”, but he was ignored.)

Cullen and Velania looked at each other, mirroring disgusted expressions. Her lip curled as she said, “ Please burn that.”

“You’re the fire mage,” he said, throwing it to her.

“I meant use it for kindling in one of the town fires! Actually give it a purpose!” She threw it back.

“And have people wonder where I got it? Absolutely not.” He returned it to her.

“Just tell people you found some useless armor! I’m not going to burn it just for the sake of burning it!” Back to him.

“No one would possibly believe that I just found it!” To her.

“I assure you, no one looks at you and thinks ‘that man likes it rough!’” To him.

“ Please never comment on my sexual habits again.” To her.

“As lacking as they are? Sure thing.” To him as he blushed further.

“ Velania .” To her.

“ Ser Cullen. ” She tried to throw it back to him, but Sachi had chosen that moment to try to snatch an apple from the ground between them. The hart moved in before Velania could notice, and it wasn’t quick enough to move away before the bottom half of the ‘armor’ was airborne. The red cords snagged on his antlers, and the poor creature didn’t realize it until the cloth was hanging down over his eyes. Its head shot up, and the apple fell out of its mouth.

“Euuu,” it said, walking backwards and shaking its head. When the cloth didn’t come off, the hart cried in distress, “EIUUUUUUU!”

Velania was at its side in an instant, stroking its neck and murmuring something in Antivan through her pitying smile. Once the creature was calmed down, she carefully removed the cords of fabric and threw it on the ground.

“There you go,” she said, “now you can see.” She was rewarded with a big lick up the side of her face, but she merely smiled and rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome, you big baby. Who’s my good boy?”

“MRRRRRRRPH!”

“Yes, you are!” Then she snuggled its long face. Cullen thought it was a bit over-the-top, but that was Velania for you. Something of it must have shown on his face, because she glanced at him and her eyes narrowed. “Something wrong, Templar?”

Cullen crossed his arms. (Did he look like a grumpy toddler? He felt like it.) “He’s not that good of a boy.”

The Herald put a hand to his chest, and Velania gasped and covered Sachi’s ears, “How dare you! He is the best boy!”

“He is not.”

“Yes he is!”

“Do you even know what he does during the day when you’re not around?” Cullen asked, and when she tilted her head in a silent question, he irritatedly continued, “He interrupts my trainings on an almost daily basis and mocks me constantly, he knocks over things, he has eaten my reports-”

“Is that why the last one had teeth marks?” the Herald asked.

“Yes! Not to mention, there have been several occasions on which he tried to chew on my hair, and--What are you doing?”

Velania was bending down and grabbing an apple off of the snow. She looked Cullen in the eye and, maintaining eye contact, slowly fed the apple to Sachi. “Good Sachi,” she said, gently kissing the hart on the side of his face. Cullen felt his expression sour further, and she smirked at him in response. “Templar,” she teased, “better watch yourself, or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Velania.”

“Ser Cullen.”

“A hart should not be interrupting the troops’ training.”

Cullen’s Voice continued to stare him down, but something faintly purple crossed her eyes. She blinked, and her smirk seemed a little more strained than it had been a moment ago. Looking away, she shrugged, gathered all the apples in the basket, and abruptly started to walk away with them, taking the light with her.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

She shrugged again, still not looking at them. “I’m tired, Templar. Thanks for the apples and the psychological trauma, Fellassan.”

“Anytime!” the elf called. “You are staying, right?”

“As long as certain people stay off my ass!”

“He will!”

Because apparently Cullen couldn’t speak for himself.

And just like that, Velania and her hart wandered off into the distance, leaving the Herald and Cullen behind.

“That was a rather...odd exit,” he said to the Herald.

The other man nodded, his face suddenly solemn. “How often does she have trouble with demons?”

Cullen quickly tried to remember if he had told the Herald that he was Velania’s Voice. He had not done so, so he tried to evade the truth. “Herald, I haven’t seen her in four years.”

“No, but you’ve talked to her almost every day that she was gone.”

Damn it.

When Cullen didn’t respond, the other man calmly continued, “I know you’re Voices, Commander. As does Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and the other two advisors…..Which I’m realizing is the whole inner circle. You’re kind of obvious, since you talk about her for hours on end.”

Cullen sighed. Fantastic. “From what I can gather, the demons dog her almost constantly. Some nights are worse than others.”

The Herald nodded again. “Understood. Sometimes she worries me,” he said, fixing Cullen with a curious look. “Tell me, Commander, are you ashamed of her?”

Well, that was a weird question, but Cullen answered it nonetheless. “No.”

“They say that mages’ Voices feel a shock of energy with each spell the mage performs, and sometimes their bond is almost inescapable….Have you recently found yourself wishing that you weren’t bound, or that you’d never met her?”

Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Why on earth are you asking that?”

The Herald blinked, shrugged vaguely, and gazed off into the distance. “Varric’s asked her if she wanted to know who her Voice was, and she basically told him that not knowing hasn’t affected her relationship with her Voice. However, I found her the other night after the demons gave her a bunch of grief, and I asked if talking to her Voice face-to-face might help, since, you know, Voices are supposed to be there through thick and thin and all that stuff. Her response was negative, but the way she worded it was...strange. It was something like, ‘The only thing that knowing would do is give the demons a face to taunt me with. Besides, it is not my place to demand that he bind himself to me outside of our minds.’ And then she mumbled something about her Voice putting up with her magic. Now, I suppose that could mean a whole slew of things, but to me it sounds like she’s convinced herself that her Voice doesn’t want their connection to be known. A rather odd conclusion, considering how much myself and the others have mentioned that we know who her Voice is, but if that’s what she wants to believe, I’m not in any position where I can change that.” He paused, still not looking at Cullen, and then he yawned, stretching his arms into the air. When he finally did turn to Cullen, he was starting to walk away, and his demeanor had changed to his normal, slightly more cheery self. “Well,” he said, “that’s all I have for tonight. See you tomorrow, Commander!” He gave a little wave and left Cullen standing in the snow again.

When did his life become this full of people with penchants for abrupt exits?

……………….

Cullen couldn’t sleep. After returning to his tent, he had laid in his cot for what felt like hours, but the sun wasn’t up just yet. His mind wouldn’t be silenced, instead playing and replaying Fellassan’s words. He supposed he hadn’t really considered what it would be like to be in Velania’s shoes, where your Voice knew who you were for over ten years but didn’t ever tell you who they were. So, he asked himself: what would he think if he were Velania?

Well, he’d likely think that his Voice wasn’t ever going to tell him who they were. It would be unfair and frustrating, but there wouldn’t be much he could do about it. A mage’s Voice was at an advantage because they could figure out the others’ identity as Cullen had, by seeing them perform magic and feeling the matching pulses. A mage with a normal person for a Voice would have….well, not much, really. Just bits and pieces, especially in his and Velania’s situation, where they specifically avoided telling one another personal details. He hadn’t ever talked about his family with her, nor his appearance or his interests.

Still, Velania could have tried to figure it out based on his personality. Really, how many other Templars could there be that became radical after the Blight and left Ferelden to go to Kirkwall?

She must have an inkling, surely, he thought to himself. If Carver could see it plain as day, she must have seen it at some point.

But if she had, why hadn’t she said anything?

Okay, I’m Velania. My Voice is an ass. I just figured out that he’s even more of an ass in real life. What would I do?

Cullen thought for a moment.

She would ignore it. She would try to move on. She would accept that the Voice she knew as a child was never coming back.

Such ideas bounced around Cullen’s mind, and his stomach flipped. He had messed up, he really had. He had convinced his Voice that he was a lost cause, or pretty close to it. Maybe he had changed things with his insistence that they be as they were now, frequently talking and bickering, but he could see how she might doubt that this was permanent.

Well, he had to change that, now didn’t he? He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that (Maker knew he couldn’t do it now, when Velania thought Cullen Rutherford to be an ass but her Voice to be decent), but he was going to try.

And he also wanted to talk to Velania anyway. She was funny. Maybe more than a little maddening, but funny. Cullen’s mind was also going a thousand miles a minute, and listening to her sometimes helped him quiet himself. (But only sometimes. Other times, she had a completely opposite effect.)

Velania? He softly called. Are you awake?

Yes, came the gentle response. Can you not sleep either?

I’m afraid not.

Very well. She paused, and then, casually, nonchalantly, she said, I’ve joined the Inquisition, like Cullen’s mind hadn’t already imploded on itself with this news. Still, he tried to keep his tone light in his response.

I know.

You….know? You know, and you didn’t say anything?

It’s a relatively new realization. I thought I saw you the other day . And Cullen had; he saw a glimpse of tanned skin beneath a large hood passing him, and in that glimpse he thought he saw the beauty mark below Velania’s right eye. However, he had disregarded it as wishful thinking and thought nothing more of it.

Until tonight.

Okay, but, she pushed, what made that ‘thought’ a ‘realization’?

Oh! Um… Cullen didn’t know what to say, seeing as the truth was not at all an option. He mumbled, Voices can sometimes feel the location of the other, if they know who their Voice is. When I saw you after so long, I found myself drawn to you until I was sure it was you.

It wasn’t a lie. He had indeed been pulled to her until he saw her again.

M’kay.

Cullen breathed a sigh of relief-

Hey, would you mind if I tried something?

-and then immediately sucked it back in again.

He warily asked, What does this something entail?

I want to see if I can make you see through my eyes.

He was silent for a moment. Honestly, you would’ve thought that he would have been used to this by now, but no. Her random ideas still confused him, but she was always curious where he was content to let things be. They complemented one another, perhaps, seeing as he spent half his time telling her to slow down and she constantly told him to speed up. Letting him see through her eyes, though, Maker’s breath-

I don’t have to if you don’t want to, she said, interrupting his thoughts with an unsure voice. It was just a question.

He sighed internally. He had let his silence go on too long, hadn’t he? And now it was still continuing! Speak, Cullen!

I’m not too keen on the idea, he said, but you can try it. Carefully.

Really? You’re okay with it?

Yes.

You’re sure?

Yes.

Absolutely positive?

Velania.

Okay, okay, just checking. If you change your mind-

I’ll let you know.

Okay….Ready?

Cullen shifted in his cot, staring at the roof of the canvas tent, and took a deep breath. As I’ll ever be. Do you need me to do anything?

I don’t think so…..Just keep your end of the Channel open.

Alright.

In all honesty, he didn’t expect it to work. There was no disrespect or rudeness in that; Velania just usually took a few tries to get something right. Thus, imagine Cullen’s surprise when he felt something tug at his mind, and when he let himself follow it, he blinked and suddenly saw the night sky.

Wow….You did it, he said, breathless.

She matched his tone in her response of, So I did.

He could barely believe it: his world had fallen away completely, and in its place was hers. Large pine trees loomed in the shadows and reached out long arms, breaking up the dark sky. He saw Velania’s breath on the air, right where his mouth should have been; her hands went up into the air as she stretched, likely laying on her back; and a large mass of fur blocked his view to the right.

The sensation was more than jarring, but Cullen trusted Velania enough to know that she wouldn’t endanger him on purpose. Still, old memories of Kinloch Hold and magical hallucinations threatened to cloud his mind until he wrested them back. He could do this for a few minutes, but perhaps nothing more.

They sat there for a moment in mutual shock, which was broken by the large fur mass moving. A large nose came closer and covered all eyesight until tan hands gently pushed it away, but the latter action didn’t happen until the same hands rubbed farther up the nose.

Excuse him, Velania said with no small amount of fondness. I’ve been….preoccupied tonight, and he gets needy when his routine is disturbed. And then she reached up and kissed the great creature, or at least that’s what Cullen could get was happening, based off of how her vision moved.

He thought for a moment, deciding against speaking of what had kept her ‘occupied’, and instead took a little bit of a chance. He replied, I’m, um...I’m glad to see you’ve found another companion.

She paused, her hands faltering as they returned to the ground, and the field of vision darkened and lightened as she blinked. Another?

Yes, another; unless, of course, you would not consider your Voice to be a companion?

Oh! He saw a great cloud of air go up, like she was exhaling sharply. Was it a laugh? A scoff? A snort? He didn’t know, but her voice seemed a bit higher when she stiffly replied, Um, yes, I suppose us being bound to one another would make us companions, wouldn’t it?....Anyways, I just wanted to try that, so I’ll put you back in your head now!

Cullen blinked, and he was staring at his canvas again with a sinking feeling in his chest. Did he...Did he really manage to overstep things with Velania not once, but twice in the same night?

It would seem so.

He hastily called, Are you going to sleep?

I think I shall try, came the immediate response.

I see…. Yep, Cullen had pushed a bit much. I will leave you to it, I suppose. Have a good rest of the night.

Thank you. Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?

Like that was likely. An attempt shall be made.

And then they both closed their respective ends of the Channel, Cullen doing so reluctantly. He wished to speak with her more. It felt like he was living some double life when he spoke to her so casually as her Voice less than an hour after seeing her be so reserved in person. Part of him wished that he’d just told her everything back in the Circles, but he knew that wouldn’t have fixed the issue. If anything, it would have made things much, much worse.

He didn’t know what he was going to do.

Then, the ever-poetic Maker decided to bestow Cullen with a pounding headache to pair with the metaphorical one on the horizon.

Well, it wasn’t like he was planning on sleeping anyway.

…………..

The next morning Cullen felt a definite decrease in his body’s condition. It would seem that the lyrium withdrawal was shifting from occasional headaches to a more widespread pain that came and went while his head constantly felt like it had holes drilled in it. To top it all off, the previous night had been the latest of three consecutive nights he hadn’t slept, and it was starting to actually impact his functioning. His mind felt fuzzy, Cullen snapped at the recruits more quickly, and a few times he almost fell asleep on his feet.

Thus, it wasn’t very surprising when his body won out, and he actually fell over, asleep.

During training.

In front of all the recruits.

……..Which, of course, was just dandy. Spiffy, even.

He woke up as soon as his face hit the cold snow, but it was too late: Knight-Captain Rylen had seen him and rushed over; training drills stopped; the recruits stared at them.

“Jim!” Rylen ordered, “Go get a healer!”

“I…” Cullen breathed, drawing himself up off of the snow, “I am fine. A healer is not necessary.” But no one listened to his protests, and Rylen insisted that he go lie down until the healer arrived.

“Commander,” Rylen said once they were inside the tent, “With all due respect, I do not think this will be of any harm to you if you take a moment to yourself.”

“I have things to do,” came the irritated response. Cullen was readying more excuses, but Jim’s shadow appeared outside the tent.

“Commander!” The young recruit called, “Adan wasn’t there, so I’ve brought his Tranquil. She has potion supplies.”

Great. Because Cullen wanted to be around the exact kind of people that reminded him of Kirkwall.

Rylen went to open the tent flap, and Cullen sat on his cot and looked at his hands as he wrung them. “Thank you, Jim. Go back to training with the others,” Rylen said, and one set of feet retreated while another came into Cullen’s vision. Cullen still didn’t look up at whoever the Tranquil girl was; he was fine. None of this was necessary.

Rylen eventually left the tent, but just before he did, he ordered, “Tranquil, I want you to have a look at him, regardless of any complaints he may have. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cullen knew that voice. He looked up, and his stomach dropped out when he saw her.

“Velania?” He whispered, his voice filled with horror.

She was wearing dark grey mages’ robes, and her hair was pinned back in the same way it had been in the Circles, not a hair out of place this early in the day. In her hands was a wooden tray upon which sat various herbs and potions. But, worst of all, her face was as blank as a slate, and on her forehead sat the very thing she had spent her entire life avoiding.

The Brand.

Cullen’s jaw dropped, and he had to suppress a shiver just looking at her. The worst part, however, was when she opened her mouth to speak.

“Velania is my name, Commander Cullen,” she said in a tone devoid of all emotion, and when she finished, she gave him one of those horrible, unnerving, placid smiles that Tranquil did not because they were happy, but because they knew smiles set people at ease.

Somewhere, perhaps in the deep reaches of his mind, he acknowledged that this would have been Velania’s appearance if she had stayed a moment longer in Kirkwall, and Cullen thanked the Maker over and over that she had left when she did.

She turned from him, placing the tray on his desk, and she moved almost mechanically. Before she could move away, he rose quickly and grabbed her shoulders.

“Velania,” he said, panicked. What was she doing? He may have been tired, but he knew what he saw last night. Still, his mind didn’t want to work in his state, and his heart sent his nerves on edge. “ Please, you-you….An illusion spell, that’s it, it has to be-“

Her hand shot up and covered his mouth. His body sagged as his heart stilled, and his hand went from her shoulder to clasp her hand and gently pry it away from his face. She whispered, “I’ll explain some other time, but you need to be quiet, got it?” He nodded, and she seemed as though she was going to pull away when she continued, “And stop looking at me like I’m Andraste reincarnate. We both know I’m not.”

He hastily nodded again, which was a mistake; his vision swam momentarily while his legs became unsteady. Velania had to help him sit back down, and when she turned back to the little wooden tray of herbs, she glanced at him several times out of the corner of her eye.

Louder, and in that horrible, dreadful Tranquil tone, she asked, “Are you feeling any symptoms other than dizziness?”

He internally sighed, wishing that she’d find some way to not make this medical. “I’m just suffering from a bit of sleep deprivation. I’m fine.”

She blinked at him. “The recruit said you had passed out.”

“Because I fell asleep on my feet.”

Outside the tent, Rylen, passing by, called, “Let the Tranquil look at you, Commander, or so help me Maker I’ll make you come to drinks at the tavern for a week.”

Cullen huffed, and the corner of Velania’s mouth quirked up. She side-eyed him and raised a smug eyebrow. He rolled his eyes.

So he let her examine him, which involved a lot more of being in close proximity to her than he would have expected. Not that he was worried about Velania doing something wrong and hurting him (he did trust her), but… Cullen didn’t know, it was just different. She still smelled a bit like a campfire, but now there was a tad of pine as well. It was rather nice. She touched him gently as she worked, just a tap or two on the side of his jaw to tell him to turn his head, or a few fingertips under his chin to hold him still while she looked at him.

Her expression remained unchanged and focused for most of the time, but then her brow furrowed.

“Commander,” she said, “When is the last time you slept for the majority of the night?”

“Six days ago.”

Her eyes widened before she schooled her expression. She turned to her wooden tray and, glancing at the tent flap, conjured up an ice knife. She expertly cut up a bunch of herbs, examining each piece before adding it to an empty bottle. Her eyes flitted  between her work and the tent flap as she melted the ice knife above the bottle. The water dropped into the bottle, and once she put a stopper on the bottle, she shook it. The mixture turned a bright green, and when she occasionally applied heat to it, it gradually turned blue until it was midnight blue. She turned the bottle upside down and rightside up a few more times, and then she held it out to Cullen.

“This is a sleeping draught,” she said. “Take it before you go to sleep tonight.

But Cullen didn’t reach for it. “I dislike sleeping draughts. They make me feel like I’m dead to the world.”

She paused, considering. Still, she gestured to the bottle again. “Have it in your possession.”

So he took it. He expected her to pack up her things and leave, but she still stood before him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Suddenly, Velania knelt and took his hand. Her tanned fingers tapped the vambrace on one arm.

“Remove this,” she whispered.

He matched her volume but made no movement to obey her. “Why are you being so quiet?”

She fixed him with a stern look. “Remove the vambrace, Templar.”

Outside the tent, Rylen called, “Tranquil! Are you almost finished?”

“......Yes.” Velania released Cullen and rose, gathering her things on her little wooden tray. Before she turned to leave, she hissed, “Find me tonight. I’m not done with you, and if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you-“ she broke off, looking for words, but she must not have found any, for she finally frowned and rolled her eyes. Then she schooled her expression again into that of a typical Tranquil, pivoted on her heel, and exited the tent before Cullen could ask what on earth she thought he was doing.

A moment later, Rylen came into the tent and insisted that Cullen rest for the remainder of the day. Cullen was about to start arguing with him, but then he realized that it was about midday.

He had a war council meeting he needed to be at.

(He also had several reports with teeth marks on them. Damn that hart.)

…………

The war council meeting went well: the Herald would leave for Val Royeaux in three days, taking Solas, Varric, and Seeker Cassandra with him. Cullen was tasked with raising funds for the Inquisition in the meantime, and before long everyone was getting ready to leave the room.

Just as the Herald was opening the door, Cullen said, “Herald, I would like a word with you, if I may.”

The other man rose an eyebrow but nodded, and the women filed out of the room.

“Commander?” Messere Lavellan tilted his head at him. “What’s up?”

Cullen inhaled deeply and took a page out of Velania’s book: blunt and to the point. “Please don’t hide things from me again. It’s rather jarring to call for a healer and get my Voice pretending to be Tranquil.”

The elf’s large eyebrows rose. “Wait, what did you need a healer for? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.” Cullen waved a hand dismissively. “Velania said she’d explain later why she’s posing as Tranquil-“ though he had a feeling the reason boiled down to avoiding him “-I just….Meredith did and tolerated things behind my back that were worse than I thought, and people were hurt for it. You hid Velania from me, which I’m fine with due to the reasoning, but I have no intention of putting my trust into the wrong people again.” Cullen crossed his arms.

Lavellan’s eyes widened as he nodded solemnly. “Commander, I swear I didn’t intend to keep Velania from you forever. To be honest, I meant to have her talk to you last week, but time got away from me, and I wasn’t sure how she was feeling, and…..” He shook his head. “I’m going to ramble again if I don’t stop myself. My point is, I have no intention of being another Meredith to you. I don’t want to hide things from you, and in the name of that intent, you should know that I am rather set on getting the rebel mages’ aid as full allies. I’m also sick of Fereldan beer and people expecting me to know the Chant despite the fact that I did not ever step inside a Chantry before the beginning of this mess. And if I hear one more shem call another of my people ‘knife-ear,’ I’m going to tie my daggers to my ears and stab them.”

Cullen’s heart rate increased. “ Please don’t do that last bit. I think Lady Montilyet would have a heart attack.”

“And Sister Nightingale would cheer me on.”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen shook his head.

The Herald snorted. “Is that enough to assuage any worries of yours?”

In spite of himself, Cullen amusedly huffed, “I suppose so. Thank you, Herald.”

“No problem!” Lavellan’s amber eyes brightened as he grinned, making his way to the door. On his way out, he paused and looked back. “One more thing, Commander: the other day, when I asked you whether you had taken vows of celibacy, I was definitely flirting. That said, you seem as straight as you are oblivious, so I figured I’d tell you that I’m backing off.”

Cullen blinked several times, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. “I-um-you-uh….I beg your pardon?“

Lavellan gave him an almost pitying smile and muttered, “Creators, you’re so cute when you’re blushing. Dammit. Anyways, Commander, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Have a good day!” Then he waved and closed the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Cullen took a few minutes for his brain to reboot. Maybe he really was oblivious, if he had no idea that the Herald had been flirting. Part of Cullen wanted to go after the Herald and apologize that he couldn’t return the other man’s affections, but that’d only rub salt in the wound, wouldn’t it?

He shook his head. He just needed to get through the rest of the day and find Velania that night so she could do whatever it was that she ran out of time to do.

Maker preserve him, but he really did think more strange things happened because of her.

…………..

Velania POV

Velania conjured up another fireball at the boulder. It was far past midnight, and no Ser Cullen. At this rate, he probably wasn’t going to show, and as if that irritation wasn’t enough, the demons wouldn’t. fucking. shut up.

Stop caring! Rage roared. You may not even be right, and if you are, then you can kill him in his weakened condition!

Or, Despair cut in , you’re right and he’s just going to die anyway. No use worrying about someone that’s a dead man walking.

Pride and Desire were uncharacteristically quiet, but Velania could hear them muttering something somewhere. She didn’t know what they were saying, and frankly, she didn’t really care.

Where is that damn Templar? She threw another fireball. I could have spent this night painting!

Yes! Get angry! Get mad!

Rage, just shut up, everyone knows you’re the stupidest here.

Why, you little-!

Velania rolled her eyes. It really was too easy to piss them off. Sachi returned from a little jog around, and he immediately started nuzzling her.

“Sachi, sweetie, you were gone all of ten minutes.”

“Mrph.”

She snorted. “I missed you, too.”

The demons tried to distract her further, but she managed to block them out for the time being.

In the quiet, Velania stretched her arms up, up, up. Now, in the dead of night, with nothing but herself and her hart moving, she could hear everything around her: every owl hooting, every gust of wind whistling by, probably even the sound of a snowflake landing on the ground. It was peaceful.

It was also very late and very dark. Naturally, this was an easily remedied problem for a fire mage, especially one that was really bored.

Cullen POV

In his defense, he hadn’t meant to be late.

The rest of the day had been a struggle, but Cullen worked through it somehow. He had even gotten an hour of sleep!

(It may have been sleep obtained when he passed out again at his makeshift desk while trying to complete some reports, and the nap may have been completely devoid of dreams in a way that only the truly exhausted achieve. But that wasn’t important.)

Unfortunately, he had woken up from that hour with a realization that it was indeed past midnight.

And that was how Cullen Stanton Rutherford found himself walk-jogging out of his tent, wiping the drowsiness from his eyes as he followed the connection to Velania. It occurred to him that he wasn’t even sure what Velania needed him for, aside from looking at him again (could she somehow tell he had gone off of lyrium?), but he trusted her enough to listen to her. When he found her, he didn’t approach her initially. Why, might you ask?

Because she took his breath away.

Fire formed a floating ring around her, rippling out like water with each movement. She stood in the center of the circle, and her fingers smoothly glided through the air. Her body swayed slightly, and when she turned toward Cullen, he could see that her eyes were mostly closed.

Back in the Circles, Cullen hadn’t allowed himself to watch Velania spellcast during any time other than a battle or an educational demonstration he was monitoring. He couldn’t think of a time before now that he had seen her like this: she glowed with power, moved with surety, and stood looking as regal as a queen. Cullen’s blood thrummed through his veins, and he honestly couldn’t tell if it was the pulse of Velania’s magic or his own heart causing it.

Then, as if the universe knew exactly what to do to mess with Cullen’s head, one of Velania’s hands brushed against the back of her head, and she paused. Her hair was still up as it had been earlier in the day; this was evidently something to be remedied immediately. A moment later, a dark waterfall flowed down Velania’s shoulders and framed her face. Cullen felt his stomach swoop; he elected to duck behind a tree and try to ignore it.

Instead, he found himself feeling...what exactly was this emotion? Admiration? Admiration felt right; how could he not admire her? She had always been a force of nature when angry, but when at peace, she was actually rather….graceful.

(Cullen never thought he’d use ‘Velania’ and ‘graceful’ in the same sentence.)

Her fire still flowed like water under her ministrations, but now her movements were less showy than they had been in the Circles. Cullen supposed that made sense, since Velania didn’t know she had an audience, but still, it felt rather ethereal to see her simply reveling in her own power.

“Mprh.”

Cullen froze, the outside world drop-kicking him out of his head. The hart stood in front of him, looking at him curiously. Velania was still spellcasting, and if Cullen listened closely, he could hear her singing under her breath.

(Little did Cullen know, she was singing, “Templar igniting, fire inside me, cuz he’s fuckin late! ”)

“Mrrrph.”

The beast nudged Cullen’s face, and Cullen figured that he may as well say something. Velania talked to the creature as though it could understand her, right?

“Hello again,” he whispered, trying to edge away from it and failing as it pinned him against the tree. He could see up the hart’s nostrils, and that was far too close. “Sachi, was it? You need to give me some space.”

“Pphh.” And so it backed up. Cullen was about to thank Sachi, but then it jerked its head toward Velania, then Cullen.

“What? I’m going to talk to her in just a moment, I just need to….calm myself.” Maker, that sounded bad, even to him. It was a good thing Varric wasn’t here, or he’d never hear the end of it.

Unfortunately, the hart must have been smarter than Cullen thought. It looked at him for a minute, ears perked up curiously, and then its big eyes widened. Sachi nodded at Cullen, tilted its head to the side, drooped its ears, dropped its jaw, and looked at him with big eyes. All of this was done in a non-genuine manner, like Sachi was pantomiming something. Then the beast nodded in Velania’s direction, and Cullen thought he understood Sachi’s meaning.

“I wasn’t staring at her!” He hissed.

“Mrph mrph.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Mrph mrph.”

“No. I. Wasn’t. I was just… observing. Her technique is much changed over four years.” Cullen crossed his arms, and for a moment he expected the hart to give up.

He really should have known better, since it was Velania’s hart.

“REIIIIIII!”

“Sachi? What’s wrong?” Velania called. Cullen, now out from behind the tree, froze as her alarmed eyes fell upon him. “.....oh.” Her fire stilled, but now it was full of the entire color spectrum. She must have been messing with the color while Cullen was squabbling with Sachi. “Kept me waiting long enough, Templar,” she snapped, her moment of uncertainty over and replaced with a cool exterior.

He quickly said, “I-uh-I got caught up with work. I apologize.”

She blinked several times, expression wavering before it settled on irritated again, narrowed eyes included. “Don’t say the a-word again. A single day doesn’t change how weird it sounds coming from you.”

“But-“

“Just shut up and let me see your forearm. And don’t even think about trying to refuse; I’ll freeze you like I did during the eclipse if you do.”

Cullen didn’t say anything, just started to wordlessly unbuckle the vambrace. He couldn’t do it with gloves on, so he took them off and stuck them in his pocket. Velania, quickly tying her hair back in a braid (why couldn’t she have left it down?) saw his dry, cracked hands and made a little sound in the back of her throat.

“What?”

She dissipated most of her fire and stepped close, but she didn’t reach out to take his hands as he had expected. Simply, she said, “You need to start moisturizing. Your hands look like shit.”

Blunt as always. “Thank you, Velania,” he dryly responded. “Nice to see you haven’t changed much.”

The corner of her lips quirked as her eyes glanced up at him. “Well, you know me, and you’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes, and she visibly fought off a smirk. “So, may I ask why you need to see my arm?” he asked.

She replied, “I want to look at your veins, and in order to do that easily, I need a major pathway, like your wrist, or preferably near your elbow. The other option is to let me put my hands near your neck, and, well, we both know you wouldn’t be comfortable with that.” As she spoke, she wiggled her fingers, embers dancing between them; Cullen understood her meaning.

“Velania, if you wanted to kill me, I think you would have done it already.”

“Probably. Now be an obedient little Templar and give me your arm.” Cullen rolled up his sleeve to the elbow and held it out for her to examine, but she hesitated. Slowly and unsurely, she said, “Would you mind if I did a quick scan of your body? I promise it would be minimal, just a small test to get your vitals and any locations of pain. I wouldn’t be going into your mind or anything like that.” Cullen immediately nodded, and she blinked. “Really? Just like that?”

He shrugged. “You said it was minimal and wouldn’t touch my mind.”

“Yes, but…” she paused, looking down at his arm as she gently took it in one hand while the other hand conjured up a small flame. “If my memory serves me correctly, magic hasn’t treated you well in the past, and you’ve also expressed distrust in my morals on several occasions. I wasn’t sure how you would feel about meeting me in a secluded location, alone, in the dead of night, let alone letting me perform magic on you. I didn’t know if there was a risk of me accidentally…. triggering something.”

Cullen blinked. She had considered all of that? “I….I appreciate the thought, Velania, really, but I believe I’ll be okay with a little scan. Thank you, though. That’s very kind of you.”

She shrugged, not looking at him. “I know what it’s like to have things haunt you.”

Her words hung for a moment, and Cullen wondered what exactly she meant by that. He had never found out what had happened that day she had done something strong enough to make him pass out; sure, she could have been referencing other things, but he was curious. “Do you want to talk abo-“

“Nope.” Alright then. “I’m going to do the scan in three, two, one-“ and then Cullen felt the magic pass over him in a few cool waves. After a minute of silence, Velania’s hand on his arm stiffened. Her free hand suddenly grabbed his chin and tilted it down toward her. Her little ball of conjured-up fire floated in front of his face, and she squinted at him. “Open your mouth, tongue out.” So he did. Did she have suspicions about his condition? She was silent for a moment, and then- “You little motherfucker.”

“What?”

“’What?’ he says, like you don’t know!” she hissed, starting to list symptoms off on her fingers. “Trouble sleeping, increased heart rate and blood pressure, nerves firing off intense pain signals, and you have a tinge of blue around your bottom eyelids and along the back of your throat, all of which are signs of low lyrium levels in the blood, which shouldn’t be an issue for the commander of an army unless he was being stupid. So, Templar, tell me: when’s the last time you took lyrium?”

He hesitated; that was a lot of anger in a few seconds. “It’ll be five months next Tuesday.” Velania’s entire body froze, and her expression morphed into something that screamed, ‘I am five seconds away from murdering your dumb ass.’ Cullen needed to divert her attention quickly. “Wait, how do you know all those symptoms?”

Her burning eyes cooled, and for a moment they seemed almost sad. She stiffly said, “I’ve seen what this does to people, Ser Cullen. I met a Templar once that had run away from the White Spire with his mage Voice, and the last I heard from him, the withdrawal caused daily hallucinations bad enough that he couldn’t tell reality from fantasy, and he was sick more often. That was probably...8? 9 months ago? For all I know, he could be-“ she broke off, letting him go so she could pace back and forth. When she spoke again, her harsh tone berated against Cullen’s ears. “You can’t just die. That’s not happening, not on my fucking watch. You and your stupid Templar ass have to go this crazy-ass bullshit-“ she pointed to the Breach “-with me, whether you like it or not! You don’t get to leave this shit unfinished!”

Maker’s breath, he really hadn’t been expecting her to go off like this. Did this...Did this mean she cared ? “Velania.”

“If I have to live through another world crisis, so do you,-“

“Velania.”

“-or so ayúdame El Creador, yo voy a encontrar ese díos y-“

“ Velania! ” Cullen grabbed her wildly moving hands, a task made more dangerous by the orange aura surrounding her. Her glare was unrivaled to any other, but he held his ground. Slowly, deliberately, he told her, “I have no intention of dying. I will break this addiction.”

“Why?!” she shot back. “Staying on lyrium would be so much easier!”

“Because I don’t want to be a Templar anymore!”

That made her blink several times. Good. She needed to calm down. “Still, you could stay on lyrium.”

“No, I can’t.” She opened her mouth to protest again, so he pleaded with her, “I cannot bear to be bound to the Order any longer, and, Velania, if I can do this, it will change so much! Templars would have proof of a way out of the Order and into a better life. Even in the months I’ve been off it, I can think clearer and I’m in a much better mood, and those are just the most noticeable parts. Yes, things may flip and get drastically worse, and yes, I may be reduced to a weakened state in the coming months, but I have to try. ”

Velania’s arms relaxed as her eyes searched his, and whatever she found must have verified his intent. “You’re really serious about breaking away from the Order, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“More than anything.”

She took a deep breath, trying and failing to find words. Finally she quietly exhaled, “Well, Ser Cullen, you have me properly confused now. I don’t know whether to call you the stupidest or the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

Despite himself, he snorted and gave a small smile. “Is it possible I’m both?”

She gave him a bemused look, but the corner of her lips quirked up. “Is that an almost-joke I hear?”

“What? I could be funny.”

“More like funny-looking.” Aaaand back to the banter. Cullen released her hands, rolling his eyes, and Velania returned his small smile. They gazed at each other for a moment, and Velania’s expression faded to something unreadable. She murmured, more to herself than him, “You’re such a confusing man, Ser Cullen.”

He was about to say something, but he was interrupted by a big ball of fur shoving its head between them. “Pphh,” Sachi said. “Eeeeiuuuuu.”

Cullen couldn’t see Velania anymore, but he could hear her chuckle. “Fine, Sach, we can go find a place for the night. Just give me two minutes.”

“Mrph.”

Sachi pulled away, and Velania was smiling at the hart. Her eyes lit up like she remembered something, and she said, “Wait, Sachi, I still need you to do an official judgement of Ser Noodle Hair for me.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at Cullen like she hadn’t meant to call him ‘Noodle Hair’ to his face and was internally swearing. To her credit, her efforts to fight back the guilty grin were valiant, even if they gave out in the end. In a slightly higher tone, she evaded that part of her statement and said, “Sachi is an excellent judge of character, believe it or not.”

He gave her a dry look. “Is he now?”

“Yes, actually, he’s sniffed out many an undercover Templar.”

“And you have nothing else to address aside from his...judgement abilities?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” She flashed a mischievous grin at him (Maker’s breath, how he had missed those), then turned away. “Sach!”

Sachi returned begrudgingly, moaning, “Errrrrrrrph.”

“Love, I know you’re tired, but cooperate and then you can lay down, okay?”

“Mrph,” he snorted, and then he stood in front of Cullen and stared at him. Cullen looked back unsurely, glancing over a few times at his Voice, who was calmly cleaning her nails. Sachi huffed, and Cullen’s focus went to the big beast. Sachi’s long face came closer and closer to Cullen, and despite his best attempts, Cullen couldn’t avoid the lick upside the face that was bestowed upon him. Then, the top of his head was being applied pressure to, and it took him a minute to realize that the beast was gently placing its head on top of his.

“Sachi, you can’t be serious,” Velania muttered.

“Eiu,” the hart replied, unmoving.

“Traitor.”

“Pphh!”

“Because two days of acting decent doesn’t make up for years of being a dick, that’s why.”

Cullen flinched at that; Sachi finally backed off. “Mrph.”

Velania opened her mouth again, but Cullen cut in, “So, I take it I’ve been deemed ‘alright’ then?”

Her sharp gaze turned to him, and he tried not to be disappointed. He still hadn’t expected her to forgive him for anything, of course, but oh, how he wished he hadn’t been so deserving of her ire in the first place. She coolly said, “Sachi has decided that you are not just harmless to me, but you also have the potential to be….good...for me. How that might be possible, I don’t know-” Oh, Cullen had a few ideas “-but I have no intention to find out tonight. See you around, Temp-”

She had started to walk away, Sachi following, when she cut herself off.

“Commander,” she corrected. “See you around, Commander. ”

Cullen blinked, the significance of the change not lost on him, and he managed to get out, “Goodnight, Velania.”

He turned to leave, as did she, but he could feel the distance between them increasing more on his end of their connection, like she was hesitating. Once again, she surprised him when she called, “And Ser Cullen! If you change your mind about sleeping draughts, or if you need any potions, to help with the pain or anything….well, you know where to find me!”

He looked back. “Is that an offer of your support?”

“Yes, for as much as it’s worth. Not that I’m letting you off the hook for Kirkwall, of course, ‘cause I’m still really pissed, but…. Yes, I believe so.”

Cullen smiled softly, not that she could see it when she had taken the light with her, and he nodded. As he took his leave, he found himself feeling warm inside, and it wasn’t just from her spellcasting.

‘For as much as it’s worth,’ he thought. As if her support could be anything but priceless.

…………..

Velania POV

It had been about an hour, and Velania was painting and trying to sort out her thoughts. Sachi, meanwhile, was being subjected to her confused ramblings as he tried to get some rest.

“Things must have been even worse than I imagined in Kirkwall if they drove him , of all people, to leave the Order,” she muttered, getting out the next color she wanted. “I mean, I’m glad for it, Maker knows the world needs more people that are trying to be decent, but still, I remember hearing that Meredith had him on an increased dosage of lyrium. If this doesn’t kill him, it’s going to be even more of a pain in the neck than I ever was, and that’s saying something.”

Just watch him die, Despair cried. No one’s been strong enough before. Why would he be any different?

Velania didn’t know. But what she did know was that Ser Cullen Rutherford was one of the most stubborn and most determined people she had ever met, and if he said he was going to do something, then dammit, he was going to try his hardest. Despite all the experiences that shaped him over the years, he was just as passionate as he had been when he first stepped into the Fereldan Circle, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. That was one of the many things that he and Velania’s Voice had in common.

Huh. Now that she thought about it, Ser Cullen and her Voice had several similarities. Not to mention, Velania had been in the same Circles as Ser Cullen for almost his entire Templar career, just like her Voice. That was weird.

Wait, she thought, Is he--

WONONONONONONONONONOOOOOOON ! The demons cried in varying shrill pitches. Fear screamed; Rage banged two pans together rapidly. Desire pulled a cowbell out of nowhere and shook it like their life depended on it; Despair played an out-of-tune violin and made it screech. They continued, BALALALALALLALLALALALLALALL!

OW! Velania yelled at them, clutching her ears. WHAT THE FUCK??!!

The noise stopped as abruptly as it had come, and no demon gave a response. Velania was confused, but decided to shake her head and move past whatever the fuck just happened. What had she been thinking about? She couldn’t remember for the life of her. What was it…...Oh! Ser Cullen and….. Lyrium? Was it lyrium? She thought it was lyrium, but she wasn’t sure.

(Somewhere in the Fade, farther than Velania could sense, the demons gathered and sighed in relief. Well, all except Pride, who was feeling very, very unhappy. That was too close of a call, and even then, they had only delayed the inevitable. All of them had felt how Velania’s connection with her Voice had strengthened, if only slightly; if Velania was a more perceptive person, she would have noticed that from then on, her eyes instinctively flitted to the door right before Ser Cullen walked through it, nine times out of ten.)

Anyways, Ser Cullen deciding to go off of lyrium had Velania thinking: if he , an exemplar Templar that could recite the Chant of Light in his sleep, if that man could decide to break away, who else could swayed to leave as well? Could a world exist where people just didn’t think Templars were necessary?

Was it possible that peace could be made?

Girl, Pride growled, That world doesn’t exist. Peace will never be achieved.

Velania’s painting was finished. It was kind of a wreck, honestly, seeing as she running out of three different colors, but it was finished. The image itself was simple: the Circle emblem combined with the Order emblem. The special thing about it was how every other flame from the sword went over the Circle’s ring, the others going under. The hilt of the sword extended into the Circle; the two images weren’t separate, but one intertwined, both emblems being shown as equals. Instead of using blue for one side and red for the other, she used purple, and the background was pure white.

The demons tried to dissuade her, taunting her with old wounds. Stupid girl, idealist, naive, they muttered, you’d think she’d know better, doesn’t she remember what happened with her Voice in Ferelden, when she trusted a Templar?

Oh, she remembered; she remembered very clearly what happened. But this wasn’t just about her, but all mages and templars. Everyone in Thedas, really. Was it idealistic of her to want to live in a world where no one lived in fear of themselves? Where no one thought themselves to be a mistake of the Maker, a freak of nature, for something they were born with? Where every kid knew more than stone towers and hard cots, and never laid on said cots wondering if they’d live to see the next year?

If that last one was idealistic, then Velania was Orlesian.

That’s all impossible, Velania. You know this.

Maybe she did know it wasn’t possible. At the same time, maybe she didn’t. Nevertheless, her doubts didn’t stop her from picking up the black and reaching above her painting to write the six words bouncing around her head:

‘But what if it was possible?’

Chapter Text

“Hey Eyebrows, catch!”

Velania looked up in time to see two dark gloves fly through the air. They hit her face, and she fumbled with them before holding them close to her chest. The fire she had been playing with floated beside her head as she sat in the snow with her back to the wooden exterior of her little hut.

It was the night after her conversation with the Commander, and Velania was still trying to get a grasp on her thoughts. She had been thinking before Varric interrupted, but she probably needed a break. The demons were chiming in too much to think straight.

The dwarf continued, gesturing to the gloves, “Well? Don’t just stare at them!”

Turning them over in her hands, she held one glove up. They were fingerless, made of dark brown leather with long wrists that, when she put them on, stretched halfway up her forearm. She wiggled her fingers experimentally; the material was oddly comfortable, not restricting her movement at all. She said, “Varric, these are fantastic, and I hate to complain, but why did you bring me gloves that only protect my wrists?”

Varric’s content expression started to fade a little bit. “Birch told me about you and Curly; I figured I owed you ten sovereigns.”

Velania looked at the gloves with wide eyes. “ Please tell me you didn’t buy these for ten sovereigns.”

“Oh no, those cost one. Would have only cost 50 silver if Seggrit wasn’t so stingy, but-“ he shrugged “-it is what it is.”

“Thank the Maker. You scared me for a minute there.”

“Give me some credit, Eyebrows. I’ve done enough dealings with the Carta and the Merchant’s Guild to know when I’m being cheated. Anyways, Birch, Seeker, Chuckles, and myself are leaving for Val Royeaux the morning after next, if everything’s ready by then. I’ll buy something worth the rest of my debt there.”

“Somehow I doubt there’d be very much in Val Royeaux that I’d want-“

“Ruffles knows this little paint shop. Apparently they have over 50 different colors to choose from.”

Velania’s jaw snapped shut. Her heart stopped. She blinked at Varric. “Continue.”

He smiled. “I have a few ideas in mind. You’ll have to wait until I come back to find out.”

Velania sighed good-naturedly. “Fine, keep me in suspense, but you still didn’t say why you brought me gloves in particular.”

“Yeah, about that....” Varric looked away, seeming like he was picking his words carefully. “If Curly is going to be hanging around you more, I figured you might want something so you won’t have to worry about him accidentally seeing anything that might... alarm him.”

Velania tensed, and Sachi, who had been sleeping beside her, lifted his head and huffed.

Told you someone would notice the scar, Fear whispered. Time to get out.

“I don’t know what you think you’re talking about,” she lied through her teeth, giving Varric a cool look. “But if you’re going to start making presumptions about me, this conversation is over. Please leave.”

“Look, it’s alright, I know this Dalish elf, Merrill-“

“Goodnight, Varric.”

“I just wanted you to know, if you need-“

Velania snapped her fingers, and Varric’s voice died in his throat. He tried again, and all that came out was air. He looked at her as though to say, ‘really?’ and she said, “I’ve been an apostate for four years, Varric. Anything I need, I can take care of myself. Now go; the spell should wear off by morning.”

Varric looked at her a moment longer, and she returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow. Was she being harsh? Maybe. But it got him to drop the subject, didn’t it?

Varric shook his head but left; Velania listened for his footsteps. She waited a few minutes after they faded away, just to be sure, and then she got up.

“Sachi, stay here. I won’t be more than a few minutes.”

“Brau.”

Just inside the door of her hut was her emergency bag, which contained a week’s worth of food, two full flasks of water, some extra clothes, and a little wooden object wrapped in paper and preservation runes. The last item on that list had been with her since just before the Blight, and part of her was convinced that it brought good luck. If she really had to run from Ser Cullen and her Voice all over again, she’d need all the help she could get.

However, in that situation she likely wouldn’t have time to come back, unlock the door, grab the bag, and then go. So, she took a bit of time to stash it in a tree on the way out of town. When she returned, just the person she wanted to see was waiting for her.

No, that wasn’t sarcasm. Velania had asked Solas to meet her, and he was usually good on his word. She found him petting Sachi, who was clearly enjoying the attention. Both males looked up at her as she approached.

“Hey Solas,” she said, smiling. “Thanks again for agreeing to this. Sparring helps me clear my head.”

He nodded and rose, gesturing with a hand toward the forest. They walked together, Sachi trotting behind them, and looked for somewhere with enough room to fight. After a moment, Solas asked, “Has your mind been especially troubled lately?”

She took a deep breath. “Ser Cullen found me.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Ah. And yet you are still here.”

“Yes. Fellassan wanted me to stay, and if Ser Cullen wanted to kill me, he likely would have done it already.”

“You would trust him so easily?” he asked, brow slightly furrowing.

She shrugged, just barely blocking out all her loud thoughts before they could make her head hurt again. “Oddly enough, he has been pleasant in our interactions, and he was never one to be two-faced. If he has an issue with you, you’ll know it.”

They had found an open enough space. Sachi wandered off into the nearby forest, probably to eat some bark or something, and the two took up positions across from each other.

Solas said, “Still, I am surprised, considering your adverse reaction to his presence previously.”

Velania shrugged again. She was surprised at herself as well. “He’s.....He’s really weird now. Different and weird. Maybe I’m just curious as to how long it’ll last, you know? How long can it possibly take to elect a new Divine and blame everything on mages again?”

The demons whispered Or the elves .

“Or the elves,” she agreed, almost growling. “Or Tevinter, or literally anyone else but the Chantry.”

Now she was fucking irritated again. Deep breaths, deep breaths were things. She was surrounded by flammable things and needed to control herself.

“I apologize for increasing your agitation. Shall we begin?” Solas asked.

“Yes, please,” she breathed. “Same rules as last time?”

He nodded, then threw the first fireball.

She dodged and retaliated with one of her own. He ducked before fade-stepping right to her. His staff cut through the air, and she just barely caught it with her ice staff.

Except now her balance was off.

Velania jumped back to avoid his staff sweeping at her feet, and he followed her, taking on a much more aggressive approach. It was really all she could do to keep up, and even then, she was definitely losing. Unacceptable.

Haste spells coursing through her veins, Velania began to press back, gaining some ground. Her staff spun fast enough to make a small wind, and her mind raced through different strategies she could use. Solas tried to flank her and avoid her staff in front, but she saw it coming. She turned to meet him, and he retreated, jumping into the shadows. He vanished into thin air, and Velania was left peering into the darkness around her and quickly turning around and around. Honestly, she was getting kind of dizzy.

So, she slammed her staff into the ground, and from its bottom shot tendrils of flame. They surrounded her, making a protective shell of fire. Solas would have a hard time getting through that, surely.

Right? Wrong.

There was a sound to her left, and then the earth under her feet sagged. The damn snow was melting and turning the dirt to mud more and more by the second, and Velania was sinking. Her fire would have been cool to the touch until she commanded it otherwise; this wasn’t her doing. She tugged at the mud, but her feet were stuck. If she pulled any more, her feet would come out of her boots.

Right beside her heel, a fire mine glowed. Then another, and another, and another.

Alright , she thought, fuck the boots.

She used force magic to jump out of them and the mud, but she also fell onto the cold snow, getting a mouthful. She rolled onto her back, only to feel the end of a staff poking her chest. Solas looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you concede?”

She thought for a moment. “Depends. If I say yes, are you willing to go another round?”

His lips tilted downward in a frown. “Velania, it only does you a disservice to put in lackluster effort, does it not?”

“Do you honestly see any way that I could get out of this and win?”

“I can think of several methods.”

So be it. “Alright. Three, two,-“

Velania scooped up snow and threw it into his face. He turned his face and brought his staff down. She barely rolled out of the way, only to be struck with lightning when she tried to get up. Her barrier broke, and Solas quickly retracted his energy before it could touch her.

He simply said, “You turned your back to me when you got up.”

She nodded. That was fair. “Again?”

“As long as you try harder.”

“Alright, but remember you asked for it.”

She retrieved her boots, and they took positions opposite each other once more. He wanted to see her try harder? Then he’d get it.

She started with a fireball, followed by her body shooting toward Solas. He made an ice-shield, and it was a miracle her barrier didn’t break when he pushed her to the side. She rolled on the ground again, checking her barrier; it was barely there. Any more direct hits, and it’d be 0 for 2.

Solas frowned, evidently thinking she still wasn’t trying. Her veins began to heat up at that; she was trying, just not like her life depended on it.

Oh. There was an idea.

He started to summon another bolt of energy. She summoned a fireball the size of a large dog and threw it at him. The fire mixed with the bolt, crackling and casting the area in purple and red light. Her hands glowed orange, and the fire won out, pushing the bolt back the way it had come. Solas’ eyes widened as it grazed his body, and Velania saw the glow of his barrier shimmer weakly. He had to be in the same boat as her now.

“Was that better?” she said, perhaps a bit irritatedly. His blue eyes were still wide as they turned to her, but he wasn’t frowning anymore. He nodded once, sharply. Good to know she could please him.

She rushed forward again, staff at the ready. They fought head-on, staff against staff. She had a few close calls, but then again, so did he. Eventually, she needed a break, so she made a fake version of herself and merely controlled the ice staff from a few feet away while she snuck around the shadows and laid five fire mines, stealth spells active.

While she was sneaking, however, she heard something, or at least thought she did. She didn’t know what she heard, but she definitely felt like someone else was nearby. Thus, she scanned the surrounding area, until her eyes landed upon the one person she didn’t want to see.

Commander Cullen was watching Solas and ‘Velania’ fight.

Honestly, Velania was debating just giving up trying to understand him. After all, she could mess with him no matter how weird he was being.

Speaking of messing with him, Velania, still invisible, made her way over. She quietly crept up behind Ser Cullen.

If I go up on my tip-toes, like this-

She tilted her head up, and her lips could just barely reach his ear height. She lowly whispered, “Should I get you a cat bell?”

He whirled around, gasping and pointing between her and the illusion of her fighting Solas. Velania fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“No, Commander, that’s not actually me,” she continued. “But seriously, three nights in a row I find you watching me from behind a tree? Really?” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. He spluttered, looking at something over her shoulder, and she waited. Unfortunately, Velania didn’t have time to wait.

Behind her, which wasn’t at all the direction that she had left him in, she heard Solas say, “Did you truly think I would fall for the same trick twice?”

Shit.

She fade-stepped backwards as quickly as possible, and she did actually dodge Solas’ attack. However, she didn’t dodge the tree about ten feet back.

“Ow!” Velania’s head slammed into the damn thing, and then when she tried to hold her head and stagger to the side, she tripped on a root and fell on her ass. “Oh shIT-!”

And if that wasn’t bad enough, it turned out that crashing the back of her skull into a tree trunk 1) made her see stars and 2) also broke her barrier, signifying her loss.

So much for fighting like she meant it.

She took a deep breath. Ohhhhh, when I die, the Maker better be ready to catch….shit, what was the phrase? She threw open the Channel. Hey, native speaker, what’s the end of the phrase about fighting someone that involves catching something?

He responded immediately, sounding confused as ever. What? Velania, are you alright?

I’m fine, just sparring, but I swear there was a phrase.

Well, I don’t remember it, then...Are you sure you’re alright?

I am just peachy , little Templar, she remarked almost dryly, then continued to audibly half-sigh, “Solas, can we go again? Please?”

She opened her eyes to see Ser Cullen start to approach her, and she quickly got up, brushing herself off. He stopped, but still looked her up and down with a (worried?) expression. She tried to shoot a stern look back; just because he wasn’t taking lyrium didn’t make them on good terms.

“I accept,” Solas said.

Velania quickly tore her eyes away from Ser Cullen to look at Solas. She fought the urge to shake her head and try to refocus her thoughts. “If I set little glyphs around the area, may I keep them?”

Solas shook his bald head. “That would give you an unfair advantage. Dispel the five fire mines.”

Damn, she really needed to give him more credit. With a wave of her hand, she did as he bid her, saying, “There, done. Shall we begin?”

So, once Ser Cullen was shooed a safe distance away by the best creature Velania had ever met (she had to remember to give Sachi an extra apple later), Velania and Solas stood across from one another yet again.

Velania , Pride warned, you better not show off just because that stupid man is watching you.

She didn’t respond, instead biting back a smirk as she summoned her staff again. She twirled the staff once before slamming it into the ground, and flames erupted from top. What could she say? Old habits and all that.

You’re going to want to sit down for a minute, she told her Voice.

When Solas counted down and got to 0, Velania threw up a wall of flame. Solas shot bolts of energy at her. She dodged them easily and retaliated in kind. Haste spells made her movements swift, sharp, sure. A roaring white blizzard started to form around her, blinding and deafening in its power. Velania created a ball of energy and started heating it up. It grew and grew in pressure, and when she could barely contain it, she unleashed it in a small explosion that had melted snow raining down from the trees above. Velania brushed a piece of drenched hair out of her face, and Solas charged over her dampened fire wall.

So he had figured out that she wasn’t as effective at melee. Noted.

She dodged his staff and fade-stepped backward. He pursued. She kept Solas at bay when her staff disappeared and was replaced by a whip of fire.  For a minute, they both deflected the other’s attacks, neither willing to give ground.

Damn, I actually might not get anywhere with this.

The first chance she got, Velania swept his feet out from under him. He hit the snow, and now it was Velania’s turn to hold him at staffpoint. His blue eyes locked on her brown ones, and without moving a muscle, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

She jumped back from where he had been. Two could play that game; she fade-stepped erratically around the area, becoming more a glowing blur than a solid person.

Her evasion ended when Solas’ arm wrapped firmly around her waist, partially halting her. Emphasis on partially. She grabbed onto him and dragged him with her as she tumbled end over end in the snow. He ended up on top, but his staff had fallen to the side. If she could grab it before he could-

Aaand his haste spell had been faster than hers. She could still work with that. What could she do, may you ask?

She could punch him in the jaw; and she did, the first opening she got.

(Next to Sachi, Cullen grimaced, for he felt a force magic spell tense in his arms. He couldn’t say he envied Solas in that moment.)

Solas was thrown to the side, and Velania rolled to the other side. He shook his head as he tried to get up, his barrier barely holding, but was knocked down by Velania’s cracking whip. Her ice-staff poked him in the chest, and her foot lightly pressed on his stomach.

He looked up at her, and she raised an eyebrow. If he had so many ways to get out of this situation, as he had said earlier, let him prove it. And he did. He grabbed hold of her staff faster than she could follow and sent a nullification spell through it. The staff shattered, but the spell continued on into Velania.

The thing about nullification spells was that they felt like an icy rush of water being poured over your head. Or maybe they felt like you’d just been dropped into the sea in the midst of a roaring storm. Or perhaps they felt like a thousand leeches had grabbed ahold of you. Most people felt them a little differently to each other, but the sensation was always cold, draining, and depressing, like a part of you was missing, never to return.

For Velania, nullification spells felt like Templars’ Purges. They felt like fear and panic. They felt like a time, not-so-long ago, where she was scared of her own shadow, where she stood for hours at the tops of cliffs, looked down, and wondered what if I did, though? They felt like decisions made that wouldn’t ever go away.

And for a moment, she was back in a springtime forest in Ferelden. She could smell the blossoms on the trees and the blood on her clothes. She could hear the Templars’ curses and the shiing of swords being unsheathed. She could feel her entire being tremble as the scar on her wrist, not yet a scar then, but a scab, throbbed beneath the bandages wrapped around it. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. They were going to kill her. She hadn’t really hurt anyone. They were going to kill her. It was just a single bear. They were going to kill her. Her magic, or what remained of it, rather, screamed and spat, snapped and snarled, and sneered and seethed. She was going to explode.

“BRAUUUUUU!!!”

Sachi hadn’t been there back then; she wasn’t there anymore.

With that thought in mind, she was back. It was winter. She wasn’t in mortal danger. Her wounds had healed. She was okay. It had been the first time in a long while that she’d had one of those episodes, but she was okay.

Solas’ blue eyes were wide as he stared at her. He was on his feet about a meter away. Her heart raced in her chest, and Velania could feel herself trembling.

Are you okay? Her Voice asked.

She hesitated. Did you feel that?

Yes, and you avoided the question.

Don’t worry about it; just some bad memories resurfacing. I can handle it.

Are you sure?

My Voice, I’m not possessed. That in and of itself is evidence enough, surely.

But-

I got it. She silently willed him to let it go. It was fine, really. She was fine.

...Okay.

Solas was still staring at her. He raised an eyebrow in question. She nodded. He furrowed his brow, and her eyes flashed at him. Her magic formed a blazing whip in her hand again. He frowned, but accepted the fact that she still wanted to fight. She held up three fingers. Two. One. Go.

Solas threw a few icicles at her. She brushed them aside mid-air with a nonchalant wave of her hand. It was kind of funny to see Solas’ enigmatic expression momentarily falter in favor of surprise, but she really wanted to keep a straight face while she did this.

What was ‘this’? Well, it was scaring Solas. After all, he had (not on purpose, but still had) made her relive an unpleasant time. Really, he knew she was from Kirkwall, a place infamous for its mistreatment of mages, and he used a nullification spell on her? Even if she didn’t have other traumas, revenge was indeed in order.

She flung a fireball at him. He dodged it and tried to fade-step away. Her whip wrapped around his waist and placed him in front of a tree ten feet from her. He tried to fade-step again. The whip put him back in front of the tree. His brow furrowed; good. Let him be confused.

He looked up at her, and for a moment neither of them moved, each just staring the other in the eye. Then Velania’s whip snapped against the ground, and when the crack cut through the air, fire sprung up from the snow in two lines. The flames ran from Solas’ feet to Velania’s, lining a path between them.

She saw the understanding forming in Solas’ eyes. He tried a few more tests, fade-stepping as far away as he could, and each time Velania’s whip snaked around his waist and gently brought him back. He tried to move through the fire lines, but Velania just made them higher and hotter. If he threw more projectiles, she just brushed them aside again.

And amidst his evasion attempts, Velania started walking slowly toward him. She remembered Kirkwall and her nightmares; she knew how to make her steps eerily firm and unfaltering as they crunched on the snow. She knew how to simultaneously make herself composed and yet more threatening than a madman, and she knew how to stare someone down with the thinly veiled threat of a devastating storm. She knew how to make the firelight cast shadows on her hard face, and she knew how to make her skin glow with power. Her Voice had been right all those times that he called her dramatic, and it was one of her greatest advantages.

At last Velania came to stand just before Solas. She reached out her right hand. Solas looked at it warily. Smart man. Still, she waited. He tossed an energy bolt at her hand, and she brushed it aside. He did it again, and she repeated the action. Another time. One attempt more. Then Solas seemingly gave up and started to put his hand in hers. When he did, Velania’s whip disappeared, and she gently held his hand in hers.

“You have very pretty hands, Solas,” she told him. “I like them.”

“....Thank you.”

Her left hand, her dominant hand, was still free, and Solas held his staff in the hand she wasn’t holding. In one second, she was just enjoying her own power and Solas’ confusion, and the next she made her move. Her right hand latched onto Solas’ left hand, and her left ripped Solas’ staff away and over the top of the fire walls. His staff-less hand tried to summon ice, but she was faster. Her finger darted out and poked his nose, and the force spell she put behind it was enough to shatter his weakened barrier.

Solas froze, his brows furrowing yet again. He stared at her left hand as it retreated to her side. Velania smiled slightly (and maybe a bit smugly), leaned her head into his line of sight, and lowly said, “I believe I win this round. Do you think I was trying enough that time?”

He looked at her, seemingly in disbelief, and nodded.

“Good. And Solas?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t suggest using nullification spells on me going forward, yes?”

He nodded. His body, still rigid, started to relax when she let go of the hand she had been holding. She checked him over for injuries, though she quickly realized that any bruises would be hidden by his clothing. The demons didn’t help, Fear whispering you fool, you used your whip on him, you know you have a higher heat tolerance than most, you could have roasted him alive , and she grew worried.

So, she asked, “Are you hurt anywhere? Any bruises? My whip didn’t burn you, did it? I tried to make it a tolerable temperature.”

Solas shook his head. “You did not burn me, and any bruises I develop will be my own fault. However, I think I will take my leave for the night.”

“Okay.” She really couldn’t blame him; she could probably use the time to herself.

He began to move away, bowing slightly, before he looked back over his shoulder. “Buenas noches, Velania.”

The corner of her lip twitched; they had been teaching each other bits and pieces of their respective languages for a few weeks now. Thinking quickly, she responded “Dareth shiral, Solas. Ma serannas.”

“De nada,” he said, after which he didn’t turn back. Velania watched him go as she leaned against Sachi and sighed. Once he was out of sight, she let her eyes slip shut as she took another deep breath. A peaceful moment passed.

And then Sachi licked her face, getting a bit of her mouth.

Velania sputtered, wiping her face with a sleeve. She side-eyed Sachi, and he tilted his ears, trying to look cute. She nudged his side with her hip. He returned it. She returned it, but harder. He did the same, making her stagger away a step-

-where she bumped into another person. Gloves hands steadied her, and she smelled leather polish. Then she remembered that someone else had been watching her and Solas fight.

“Velania,” Ser Cullen said, “I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but are you alright?”

His chest vibrated pleasantly as he talked, and Velania swiftly moved away, crossing her arms. She snapped, “Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because you had a flashback about when you hit rock bottom right in front of a Templar? Despair suggested. And then you acted like a menacing presence for the sake of proving a point?

Fear added, He probably thinks you’re mentally unstable now.

That’s what you get for trying to show off, hissed Pride.

The demons were rather correct, unfortunately, because the next words out of Ser Cullen’s mouth were, “I’m not stupid, contrary to popular belief, and something happened when Solas performed that nullification spell. What was it?”

She hesitated. “Nothing you need to worry about. I’m fine. Not possessed.”

He frowned. “Velania, I’m serious.”

“As am I.” Her fingers started to tap on her leg.

“Locking up and shaking isn’t ‘fine.’”

“I’m not possessed, I have never been possessed, and I’m not going to be possessed. Now, what do you need?”

He said nothing, instead merely glaring at her in frustration. She glared back. A moment passed, and then his gaze softened ever so slightly. “Velania,” he said, not snapped or growled, just said , “What happened to you while you were gone?”

She blinked and swallowed. Her mind took it as a challenge: how long could Velania deflect? “For the last time, Ser Cullen, I am not-”

“Possessed, I know.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But I’m not asking about that, I’m asking if you, as a person, are alright.”

She blinked again. That was rich, coming from him, it really was. She scoffed, “Don’t pretend that you give a shit.”

Of course, this bitch thought he was going to interrupt her. “Velania-”

She stepped toward him, and her eyes flashed. “And you know what? Push all you want, Commander, but I will never, ever tell you about my other shit, just like how you’ll probably never, ever tell me about your Uldred shit.”

He visibly stepped back, because yes, she went there, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it either. Velania could feel how her fear still had her in its clutches, and she clenched her fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking. Of all the people she could be vulnerable in front of-

Sachi came close to her again, warm, comforting, and protective. He really was the best boy; her heart started to calm.

However, she could tell Ser Cullen didn’t want to let things lie. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sachi shut him up with a rumbling sound that reverberated through Velania’s chest. Finally, Ser Cullen nodded, and fell silent. Good. Very good.

She took a moment to gather herself before she sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, “Well, I m presume you came to ask me for a potion of some sort. Come on.” Without looking back, Velania started briskly walking, Sachi trotting beside her. She heard Ser Cullen start to jog after her, heavy footsteps thumping through the snow. When he finally caught up and started to step in time with her, she could feel him looking at her every couple seconds. She focused her gaze on ahead, pointedly walking a little bit faster.

She retrieved some of her extra potion supplies from a little bag she had stashed between two boulders.

One, two, three, four, ...I need more elfroot. Okay. She sighed quietly, and she saw him staring at her again in silent question. Still, she didn’t look at him, instead tossing the bag over her shoulder and walking on. Eventually she came to a little hollowed-out log, and as she approached it, she finally allowed herself to glance back at Ser Cullen.

“You’re going to want to stay back.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Velania?”

“Last time there was an angry nug eating all my plants. Nearly took a chunk out of my nose.”

He still didn’t know what she was doing, if his expression was any indication, but he obeyed. Velania found the loose piece of bark she’d been looking for, took a deep breath, and quickly removed it. After a moment of barriers and silence, the coast was apparently clear, so she carefully looked down into the log. What she saw wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Damn.”

“....Is everything alright?” His footsteps fell closer and closer until his arm brushed against hers. Sachi looked over her other shoulder, humming in curiosity. Ser Cullen asked, “Velania, what is all this?”

She reached in and scooped up a dead elfroot plant, examining it for any useful leaves. Nope. Nothing. “Well, I was trying to grow my own elfroot, but the soil here might be too rocky. Or I didn’t let them have enough sunlight. One of the two,” she grumbled, tossing the dead plant aside and beginning to examine another one. “Either way, it looks like they’re all dead now.”

Ser Cullen leaned over the plants, then pointed to one. “That one still has green leaves. Can you use those?”

Velania shook her head and replied, “No, but that plant might be alive. It’ll need to need grow some more, though. My old place was a much more stable environment than this place.”

“Your ‘old place’?”

Velania swallowed and realized very quickly that she just said a lot more than she needed to. Quieter, in a more clipped tone, she responded, “I, um, I lived in a cave in the Hinterlands near the dragon’s den for two years before coming here. I grew elfroot and blood lotus plants in a few gardens nearby.” She felt a pang in her chest and fought the urge to sigh, though Sachi exhaled slowly. She reached up to scratch at his neck; they both missed the dragon’s clearing more than they expected to. “So, yes, that is my ‘old place’.”

She finally looked up at Ser Cullen to find him staring, mouth agape.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “Surprised I could take care of myself or something?”

He floundered for words for a moment, then incredulously said, “You lived in a cave ?”

“Yes.”

“For two years?”

“Uh huh.”

“In Ferelden?”

“Yep.”

“......But you’re from Antiva . Isn’t it much colder here?”

She squinted at him and conjured a flame. His mouth made a little ‘o’, and she continued, “I also haven’t been back to Antiva in 15 years.”

He nodded, thinking for another moment. “Wait, did you say you grew blood lotuses? As in, the plant that gives off hallucinogens?”

Velania didn’t respond at first, looking away and picking her words very carefully. “Yes, that would be the one. I was doing research.”

He leaned into her field of vision and gave her a look. “Velania.”

She didn’t dare make eye contact for fear of her twitching lips becoming a smile. “What? It’s not like I kept it right next to my cave!” she said, then quietly mumbled, “The Templar camp was a much more suitable location.”

Wait for it.

“Velania!”

There we go. She risked a glance at him, which was a big mistake; his scandalized face made her crack up.

Had she missed this? No, she couldn’t recall a time when she had laughed at him but not at his expense; yet, something about this felt familiar. Good. Fun. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason, though.

Gently removing the rest of the dead plants from the log, Velania snorted, “Oh, come on, are you really surprised? They were pricks anyway, spewing garbage about how mages are ‘the Maker’s mistakes’ and we need to be ‘purged from the land’ as part of their ‘sacred duty,’ blah blah blah, you get the picture.”

Sachi moved to let her step away. Velania rinsed the dirt off her hands in the snow, and when she finished drying her hands (fire magic really had its advantages), she noticed Ser Cullen staring at her again.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head and quietly said, “I suppose I forget that I really don’t know what you were doing while you were gone. Sometimes it doesn’t quite feel like you ever left.” Then he lifted his hand to rub behind his neck. “In Kirkwall, if the wind so much as blew a candle-“

“No,” she interrupted, pointing a stern finger. “Don’t start with things like that, Commander. Just….don’t do it.”

He was about to say something sappy! Him! To me! She internally screamed. I leave for four years, and he loses his mind! The fuck!

She shook her head as though to clear it and gently replaced the loose piece of wood over the baby elfroot plant, strengthening a warming barrier around it as well. “Getting back to the matter at hand,” she said, taking a deep breath, “since I don’t have enough elfroot to make you a strong potion, your options are to take a weaker potion, take nothing, or let me perform some creation magic. Scans, pain relief spells, that sort of thing, just enough for me to know what you need and where you need it.” She turned back to her bag of potion supplies, fished out an alertness potion, and threw it back while Ser Cullen thought. Her fingers twitched with the potion’s effects, so she played with some fire for a bit.

“What would you suggest?” He said.

“Not the first one. A weaker potion might not be enough to work in the first place, not to mention the resistance you’ll likely build up over time, so why waste the elfroot?”

He nodded. “Alright, then please perform whatever spells you deem necessary.”

Velania blinked, her fire vanishing into the air and casting them into moonlight alone.“You’re sure?”

“I let you do something similar last night, did I not?” he said, stepping closer to her. “I trust you.”

She crossed her arms and gave him an incredulous look. (Though the effect may have been lessened by the angle she had to crane her neck up to to see him. He hadn’t allowed for much space between them.) “Don’t lie to yourself, Ser Cullen.”

“I’m telling the truth, Velania.”

“You just admitted that you don’t know what I was doing for four years. For all you know, I could be a wanted murderer of babies.”

“But you’re not.”

Velania recognized the stern tone of his voice (she’d really spent too much time around him) and knew there was no arguing with him. “Commander, just shut up and kneel.”

And he did, without another question. The two amber pools he called eyes glanced down to make sure he didn’t accidentally kneel on a rock or root. When they came back up, it was accompanied by a slow blink under long eyelashes and an intense look, like he was lowly saying ‘See? Tell me to do something, and I’ll do it.’ Velania’s breath caught in her throat. She was used to glares and rolled eyes, not….whatever this was. For a moment, she couldn’t look away, time seeming to stand still. Then he blinked, and Velania quickly gathered herself, looked down, and kneeled before any other weird shit could happen.

When she sat down, Sachi quickly curled up beside her. She gave him a good pet, sending a supporting pulse through the warming glyphs she’d put on him.

“What’s that?” Ser Cullen asked, brow furrowed.

Oh, that’s right, he wouldn’t have seen her do this before. “It’s my secret to avoiding frostbite, because believe it or not, fire magic actually has its-“ Velania suddenly noticed that parts of his face were paler than normal, and his jaw was quivering ever so slightly. A little light came on in her head.

“Shit, you can’t keep yourself warm!”

Ser Cullen’s head tilted to the side, his lips twitching as he looked at her in a silent ‘No, I can’t, thanks for noticing.’

“Why didn’t you say something? Andraste’s bloody knickerweasels, you must be absolutely freezing !” Without thinking, Velania trapped one of his gloved hands between hers, brought it close to her lips, and lightly blew on it. Orange air came from her mouth, spreading farther and farther out around the hand. Eventually, it entirely encompassed Ser Cullen, giving him a good foot to move around inside the bubble. The orange flashed brighter for a moment, forming a web of glyphs, and then it vanished from the naked eye’s capabilities. Velania glanced up and, when she saw Ser Cullen’s wide eyes, quickly let go of his hand. Should she have asked first? Probably. And yet- “Last night when I said you weren’t dying on my watch? That includes frostbite. Tell me if the temperature needs to be readjusted.”

His eyes snapped away from her, looking down at himself in...wonder? No, Ser Cullen didn’t think magic was wonderful. Maker, he was weird now. His tongue tripped over his words as he said, “I, um, I think it’s….it’s alright. Thank you.”

Velania shrugged. Fereldans. You give them a second of physical contact, and their brain explodes. “If you change your mind, let me know; I try to strengthen the spell regularly anyways. Now, give me your head.” She reached out her hands, and when his brow furrowed, she explained, “Last night most of the pain was in your head. Has that changed?”

He blinked and said, “No.”

She gestured with her hands again. “Well, then, give it here, Commander.”

Ser Cullen obeyed, and her index and middle fingers on each hand placed themselves on his temples. The rest of her body she tucked close to herself; if he couldn’t handle her performing magic on his hand very well, it probably wasn’t a good idea to risk losing her balance and falling on him. He’d likely think she was attacking him. Thus, she tucked.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“3. 2. 1.” She closed her eyes, and she was in. Some of her magic traveled around his nerves and rode through his bloodstream while another bit worked on fixing that stubborn headache of his. If her searchers found something, it’d come back and tell her, and Maker’s breath, this man had a lot of lyrium in his veins. She tried to poke at it, to get it to leave, but it didn’t budge a bit, instead pushing back at her. Rude.

She would have tried again, but something else caught her attention. If she looked closely, every muscle, vein, and nerve had this little magical current running through it. That was very, very odd. Curious(obviously), she asked him, “What’s this energy you have? It feels kind of like magic.” Velania tried to strengthen her spell to look at it closer, and the current simultaneously swelled. She didn’t need the strengthening spell then, so she put it away. To her irritation,the current immediately shrunk. She continued, “Seriously, do you know what is this? It’s a mischievous little thing, and it doesn’t seem like your body is making it, but if you aren’t making it, then who is?”

She felt his heart rate pick up as the muscles in his neck worked to swallow hard. For a second she was worried he was going to say something like ‘oh, surprise, I’m possessed.” He swiftly shut that down with his whisper of, “That would be my Voice, actually.”

That, of course, brought on an onslaught of more questions, as Velania realized she hadn’t ever heard anything about Ser Cullen’s Voice.

“Wait, does that mean your Voice is a mage ?”

“.....Yes,” he said, tone cautious.

She murmured, “So that’s what that feels like. That’s kind of cool, actually. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Only during strong spells. One grows accustomed to it over time.”

Velania frowned. She had grown accustomed to Kirkwall over time; just because something was normal didn’t mean it was good.

Ser Cullen added, “What I meant is that my tolerance to the bond grew as my Voice’s power grew. I’m sure that your Voice felt the same.” Velania considered it. It was possible, perhaps. It was certainly a happier thought than her Voice being hurt every time she did a spell until he was numb to it.

“Is there anything else that changes over time?” she asked.

He made an affirmative noise. “I, um...I’ve developed the ability to tell the difference between the spell types.”

Now that was interesting. “How? Do they feel different?”

Velania opened her eyes to see Ser Cullen staring at the ground. She left her magic doing scans and investigating the magical current in him, but mainly listened to his words as he said, “Yes, actually. It, um, well….It generally feels like that current in whatever part of my Voice’s body that the spell is being done in, but sometimes spells are more specific. For example, fire spells often make my chest and stomach feel warm, especially when my Voice is preparing a spell.”

She snorted. “What, like some sort of dragon?”

He thought for a moment, then added a little laugh. “Yes,” he said, “I suppose so.”

Velania leaned forward a bit more, and Ser Cullen’s eyes flew up to her. Her scans came back and told her that his heart rate had increased. She could have backed off, but now she was too interested in the subject matter. She said, “So, what is your Voice doing right now?”

Ser Cullen looked away quickly. “I believe the current you are detecting is due to a spell from the school of Creation.”

“Oh! Are they a spirit healer then?”

“No, my Voice prefers the Primal school of magic.”

Velania blinked in surprise. So much information all at once! “So they’re like me?” she asked.

Again, her magic spoke of his increased heart rate. “......One could say that.”

She thought for a moment, then pushed further. “Do I know them?”

“I, um-“ Ser Cullen began a slight coughing fit, one that had her breaking her spell until he could recover. “I would most certainly expect that you know her.”

‘Her.’ ‘Her?’ Velania covered her mouth and gasped. Ser Cullen seemed to brace himself. She said, “You mean to tell me that you’ve been talking to a girl ?!”

Ser Cullen deflated, slowly blinking at Velania. “ That’s what you latch onto?”

“Yes, because I remember your face when Sofia passed by.”

He blushed at that, averting his eyes yet again.

“Is it Enchanter Rose?”

“No, and, Velania, I don’t want to-“

“What about Carmen? She’s nice.”

“It’s not her either, and we aren’t going to play this game-“

“It couldn’t be Shiari, could it?”

“Still no, and-“

Velania interrupted again, and Ser Cullen took a deep breath. “Well then what’s her name?”

He looked at her, and in a serious voice, said, “Velania.”

(Deep in the Fade, Pride, Desire, and the rest all snapped to attention. Pride rose from its bloody throne and summoned its purple whip forth. They hadn’t expected the cowardly boy to just up and say it like that! They weren’t ready! Their prey wasn’t nearly weak enough for them to easily take control. If they needed to, they probably could, but it’d be bloody, and-)

Velania waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. Keep your secrets.”

(.....And then the demons relaxed again. Trust Velania to completely misunderstand something she’d been waiting on for years.)

She beckoned with her hands. “Give me your head again.”

Ser Cullen blinked at her again, frowned, and then leaned forward. “....Alright.”

She hesitated for a moment. He seemed disappointed by something, but she couldn’t tell by what. Maybe he doesn’t like talking about his Voice. It was a thought. She reached out and touched her fingers to his temples. Re-activating the spells, she found most of the pain was still in his head. She ended the scans and said, “This next part will feel a bit cold. Tell me if it helps.” She closed her eyes and sent a couple pain relief spells his way. Once she was able to relax his muscles a bit, she started to rub little circles on his temples.

One minute passed, then five, then ten. Velania had built up a sort of rhythm as she worked silently, but Ser Cullen hadn’t said anything in a while. Sachi was still warm beside her leg, taking a little nap, so nothing was wrong, or at least no danger was on its way from an external source.

“Are you doing okay, Commander?” she asked, her voice coming out softly. “You’re being unusually quiet.”

She didn’t get a clear response; he just made an affirmative noise in his chest and lowly murmured, “Mm…feels…nice…” before falling silent again. Velania opened one eye, and the sight before her was something….she didn’t know what.

Ser Cullen was very obviously feeling relaxed. His brow had unfurrowed itself, making him seem several years younger; his lips were parted; his armored chest rose and fell as he took slow breaths; and his eyes had slid shut, though they blinked every once in a while in a possible effort to stay open. A golden curl hung in front of his forehead, and another stuck up on the side.

So…..yes, Velania could only describe this sight as something . Still, she focused on her work, closing her eyes again, which, of course, went smoothly, because, contrary to belief, Velania was actually a capable mage.

Or, well, the spell would have gone smoothly, had Velania remembered that Ser Cullen was still running on empty. However, she did not recall such information, and thus when his head unexpectedly pitched forward to fall on her shoulder, fast asleep, she was quite alarmed.

What the fuck, she thought, her eyes shooting open as her entire body locked up. What the fuck is he doing.

Fear screeched, WHAT IF YOU KILLED HIM?! IS HE BREATHING?!

OhnowhatifIkilledhim. It was plausible; panic flooded her veins. Shitshitshitshitshit what the fuck am I going to tell the others.

Then this sleeping beauty/son-of-a-bitch turned his head, did a little wiggle thing (like he was getting more comfy or something? It was a ‘what the fuck’ kind of thing in and of itself, honestly), and then sighed rather close to Velania’s neck.

In the back of her head, Desire yanked the bucket of popcorn away from Fear, shoveled in another mouthful, and said, You know, girl, I remember when you and that Zevran elf were in a very similar position, though I suppose this situation is different since you don’t currently have this man’s fingers in your-

tHAT’S QUITE ENOUGH! Velania internally screamed. She did not need to be thinking about Ser Cullen and…. activities . Maker’s sweet breath, this was too much weird shit for one night. Anyways! Waking up the Commander!

She poked Ser Cullen’s shoulder. He didn’t respond. She shook his shoulder and hissed, “Ser Cullen. Hey. Ser Cullen. Come on, wake the fuck up.”

He stirred, but didn’t wake up. Instead, he mumbled something like, “...warm…”

Velania, again, internally screamed. Externally, she grumbled, “Wow, imagine that! The fire mage is warm.” Then she looked at the little bit of his face that she could easily see and continued, “This, Ser Cullen, this right here, is why we called you Noodles-for-Brains in Kirkwall.”

He still didn’t wake up, the bastard.

She took a deep breath, but still felt rather frazzled. Beside her, Sachi had woken up and was looking at her with curiosity. She panickedly said, “Sachi, help me.”

He looked at her and had the nerve to amusedly huff before curling back up.

“That is not helping! That is sleeping!”

“Mrph.”

“Come on, please!”

“Mrph?”

“I can’t wake him up with magic! Trust me, Sach, that wouldn’t end well at all!”

“Pphh.”

Velania obeyed Sachi and looked at Ser Cullen's collar. Sure enough, there was some space under his armor in the back. Not much, but she wouldn’t need a lot, probably. She reached to the side and gathered a bunch of snow before bringing it to the back of his neck. She hesitated for a moment. Andraste preserve me, he better not be mad at me about this. And then she dropped it.

Ser Cullen straightened immediately, eyes flying open as he rolled back onto his feet. He yelped, “Cold! Coldcoldcoldcoldcold-“ and when he saw her still kneeling there, a little light went off in his eyes. “What was that for, Velania?!”

“You fell asleep!” she defended.

“I-!...I did?”

“Yes!” She got up, dusting herself and Sachi off. She sternly pointed a finger as she rapidly continued, “You fell asleep, on me , and I didn’t know how else to wake you up, so yes, I put snow down your back. Now, you , mister, are going straight back to your tent this instant, and then you are going to go to bed. Got it?”

Ser Cullen nodded, blinking with wide eyes.

“Good.” She swallowed, and both of them stared at the other for a moment. “Well, come on! Let’s go!” Velania gestured with a hand, and Ser Cullen started walking.

She didn’t speak to him the entire way back. Granted, that was only ten minutes of walking, but it was still some time. Ser Cullen didn’t say much either. Sachi, on the other hand, was walking a little ways ahead, drawing in the snow with a large branch he had found, and he made little whines when he made something he wanted Velania to see. Of course, she cooed over every last one, praising him until his chest fluff puffed with pride.

(What else was she going to do? Even if they were just blobs he wanted to call flowers, she wasn’t going to be rude. She was a smart-ass, not an asshole.)

When they got within sight of Ser Cullen’s tent, she stopped. Ser Cullen, in front of her, didn’t notice for a minute, and then he glanced over his shoulder. She looked back, just for a moment. Sachi dropped his stick and bent down to allow Velania to climb on top of him. Once she was seated, Sachi rose and turned sharply before beginning to walk, then trot, then canter. Velania put a few haste spells into him before she looked to see if Ser Cullen has gone into his tent yet. He hadn’t; he was just...staring.

Velania rolled her eyes. What a weirdo.

She clicked her tongue, and Sachi burst into a full-on gallop. When they finally settled down in blissful peace, the moons had begun their descent in the sky, and Velania had to get what sleep she could before reporting for work.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Velania had hoped that Ser Cullen would leave her alone after that occasion. After all, properly ordering elfroot potions from the apothecary would allow him to get the pain relief he needed; he shouldn’t have any need to come talk to her. Unfortunately, he clearly didn’t have the same thought process.

The next night, she heard him first rather than saw him. Honestly, the man was in armor and heavy boots, walking on crunchy snow. How on earth he had ever snuck up on her, she didn’t know.

In any case, she had some warning before he appeared, and when he did, she turned to look at him and press a finger to her lips. In her lap, Sachi snored, and she was loathe to wake him. However, Ser Cullen was apparently oblivious as fuck and couldn’t take a hint, so he just plopped down beside her. Sachi stirred, and Velania leaned back to allow room for his antlers.

(in the back of her head, she reminded herself to watch for signs of his antlers shedding; the season was indeed creeping up on him. The previous year, Sachi may or may not have startled himself when they came off, much to her amusement. He didn’t like to be reminded of it.)

Velania gave Ser Cullen a hard look, then slowly blinked. She had papers in her hand, and she fought the urge to whack him over the head with them. He looked back blankly, and when Sachi yawned loudly (“braaAAUUU”), Ser Cullen’s eyes widened. He arched an eyebrow, and Velania could see the slow realization of ‘oh, I woke Sachi up’ cross his features. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. She shook her head at him in disapproval, sighed, and slowly said, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Commander?”

“I-um…” He trailed off, fidgeting. “You never told me why you’re posing as Tranquil.”

Damn. She had rather been hoping he’d forget about that. She dryly asked, “You’re not going to be going away anytime soon, are you?”

“Velania, if you want me to leave, I can. I don’t intend to bother you-“ like he wasn’t already “-but you said you’d answer a question, and I’d like you to follow through,” he said, polite but firm.

She internally inhaled, then thrust a paper into his hands and said, “Well, in that case, you can listen while you make yourself useful and hold this.”

He took them, but not without a confused glance at her. She didn’t blame him; he couldn’t read the Antivan scrawled all over them. He asked, “Papers? What is all this?”

Velania turned to her bag, which lay open to reveal stacks on stacks on stacks of paper, and said, “My notes. You should know, you interrupted my work on them several times in Ferelden. Now hold it up so I can see it.”

His expression morphed into surprise, and then he murmured, “I…I didn’t know you still studied the stars. I thought you hadn’t taken it up again after…” When he trailed off, Velania’s breath caught in her throat as she realized, my Voice must have told him about that morning in Ferelden , and then she summoned the most devastating death stare she could. Ser Cullen saw it, he clearly did, because his expression froze, and his voice died in his throat.

“Yes?” she asked coolly. Noodle Hair, you made your bed. “ After what?”

Sachi put his nose up and his ears back, and huffed. Ser Cullen’s gaze unsuredly flickered between Velania and Sachi, and Velania waited. Ser Cullen swallowed, and eventually managed to say, “After the Blight.”

Velania waited a beat, then decided to turn back to her work and let him off easy this time. “Well, you thought wrong. A girl needs hobbies when she travels; it was either stars again, or incinerating stubborn ex-Templars that wake up my hart after I just spent the last hour trying to calm him down.”

Maybe she wasn’t letting him off that easy after all.

He turned to Sachi, and in a surprisingly solemn voice, said, “I apologize for waking you.”

“Mrph.” Sachi re-adjusted himself before curling up closer to Velania, who rubbed the soft skin on his lil nosey-nose.

“To answer your question,” Velania said, trying her best to stay on track tonight, “I am posing as Tranquil because it allows me to function in an intermediate manner of freedom compared to what I’m used to, yet I’m still putting my knowledge to good use. An enjoyable side benefit is staying out of the eye of most Templars, though that obviously has not deterred all of them.” She glanced at Ser Cullen meaningfully, and he had good enough manners to avert his eyes momentarily.

He remarked, “But, you can’t pretend to be Tranquil forever.”

To this, Velania merely shrugged and said, “Why not? I’ve already been here for a little over a month, and I’m only staying until the Breach is closed. I’ve kept things hidden from others for longer.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Ice Jester .”

She looked at him in surprise, then recovered the best she could. Velania had underestimated him far too much back then. “ That you can’t pin on me, Commander.”

“Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m a fire mage.”

“And yet you wield an ice staff.”

“Yes, and Senior Enchanter Randall’s spells sometimes blew up in his face.” She rolled her eyes as she turned back to her papers. “Doesn’t mean he blew up the Chantry.”

“That’s true, but you’re still the Ice Jester.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Velania said as she side-eyed him. “But you can’t prove it, can you?”

He opened his mouth as if to deny it, then closed his mouth. Velania’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Then I guess we’ll never know,” she smugly said, eyes drifting back over the notes. Sachi nuzzled her hand, and she scratched hard between his ears. Still, he whined. He was a tired little boy, and the big, weird ex-Templar was keeping him up!

So, Velania said, “Now, Commander, if those are all the questions or requests that you have, I will take that-“ She plucked her notes out of Ser Cullen’s hands. “-and you can be on your way for the night.” When she took the papers from him, her eyes caught on her records of when different regular astronomy events took place and where they were visible from. One in particular, if she was thinking about it correctly...

Holy fucking shit I’m actually far enough south to see it this year. Wait, when does it show up-

“What?” Ser Cullen asked, rudely interrupting her thoughts. “What is it?”

She barely even looked up from her notes, instead drawing more out of her bag. “Nothing bad, I assure you.”

“Well, I know that . They’re stars, what’s the worst that could happen?”

That made her look up and pause. “Actually,” she said, “There have been several theories suggested over the last couple ages that suggest that stars only survive for so long, then they explode and sometimes become these giant vacuums that squeeze anything within into the shape of a noodle.” Ser Cullen looked at her with wide eyes, and she gave a tight-lipped smile. “So there you go: the worst thing that could happen because of stars, not to mention that our sun is a star and will possibly become one of those vacuums one day, obliterating us all regardless of who has magic and what we believe in.”

Ser Cullen blinked, mouth slightly hanging open.

Velania continued, “I know, you missed me so much, and as much as I would love to sit here and talk about it, I have work to do, as do you, surely. Therefore, if you would so kindly fuck off and leave me and my sleepy hart alone, that would be fantastic.”

He blinked again, then nodded and got up. His feet turned to leave, but paused. “It’s strange,” he said, mostly to himself, as he dusted the snow off of his knees. “You’re so different, and yet much the same. I didn’t expect that.” Ser Cullen’s eyes rose to meet hers, and he bowed slightly. “Have a good night, Velania. I hope Sachi goes to sleep soon.”

Then that strange man walked away, and Velania gazed after him. What’s that supposed to mean?

However, she didn’t have time to ponder such things, for Sachi nuzzled her hand again.  She quickly pushed all thoughts of that strange ex-Templar out of her head, instead raising an eyebrow and murmuring, “Yes, love, I hear you. Do you want the short lullaby, or the longer one again?”

“Pphhh.”

“Alright, though I’m not going to sing it for a fourth time. This is it. You have to sleep.”

Sachi sighed, but snuggled into her lap all the same. She huffed in amusement and shook her head. Her fingers combing through the scruff of his neck, Velania took a deep breath, leaned back against a tree, and quietly began to sing.

“Como una estrella es nuestro amor,
Que en la distancia nos da su calor,
Y con su tenue iluminar
Hoy nos recuerda lo que hicimos mal

Y aunque el orgullo nos separó
El destino hoy al fin nos unió

Nuestro muro se va a derrumbar
Puedo sentir la tierra vibrar

Yo quiero huir de esta prisión
Hacia la luz del sol…”

As Velania sang, and as she stared up at her beloved stars, she gave no thought to mages and templars, nor to demons and holes in the sky, nor to what the next day might bring with it. On that night, in that moment, there was just her and her heart of harts, and sometimes that was enough.

So it had been for the last two years, and so it would be as long as Sachi stayed by her side.

Cullen POV

Velania can sing.

That was the thought that kept him awake for half an hour before he plunged once more into the dark world of his nightmares, and it was the thought that distracted him from the morning training as she walked through the edge of his vision. He hadn’t heard her very clearly, of course, and he definitely hadn’t understood a single word of the song. Still, he had caught the general melody as he walked away, and it had wrapped itself around his heart until he could think of little else.

Velania can sing .

It wasn’t that she had the voice of an angel, but it also wasn’t that she sounded like a dying cat. Velania instead landed somewhere in the middle, where Cullen could stand to listen to her sing some more, but the world didn’t stop turning when she opened her mouth. She sounded….sweet. Gentle. Pleasant. For once, she wasn’t an extreme, and that made her seem softer somehow, more like a real person.

And suddenly, Cullen knew he’d have to come up with excuses to see her frequently. Well, he didn’t really need an excuse; his headaches were still frequent, if not constant, and pounding as ever. He needed treatment. He could always just order elfroot potions from the apothecary, but what if he built up a tolerance to it? Besides, increased orders of elfroot potions for himself would be sure to attract attention from others, and lyrium was his fight. Velania could keep a secret, and with her mana pool, any resistance that he might build up to her spells could surely be made stronger with some added power.  Not to mention that asking her to help him didn’t cost him anything besides sleep, and he had been raised to be nothing if not cost-efficient. Yes, he had valid reasons to see her again.

May he one day show her that he could be a better man; then he wouldn’t need a reason to see her. He could just pop in, say hello, ask her how she’s doing, maybe actually make her happy for once.

But that world was far away, if it even existed. For now, he had to settle for as much conversation as he could get without pushing it. Maker, he hoped she’d tell him about the stars again. She had figured out something exciting, he just knew it, and Velania was always a whirlwind when she was excited.

However, that wasn’t the case when he found her the next night. For one thing, Velania didn’t seem to have a bag with her as he approached. For another thing, Velania was...ice skating?

He didn’t hide himself at all, so her eyes found him well enough. She stood bathed in the blue light of several wyrdlights, and the ice under her skates reflected said lights. Her skates were her boots covered in ice, and this section of the forest definitely hadn’t had ice before that night. Snow, sure, but not ice. Did she...did she make all of this?

Sachi was eating some bark off of a tree and greeted Cullen with an “eeeiuu.” Velania was taking a lap around her little rink, and when her sharp gaze landed upon Cullen, she merely rolled her eyes and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Cullen nodded, not that she was looking at him anymore. He was looking at her, though, and he had to say he was impressed. Her hips swayed as Velania artfully weaved around the trees, and she rarely brushed against a trunk to steady herself. At a few points she twisted around to skate backwards, her thick, dark braid momentarily flying through the air before it fell back between her shoulder blades. After a couple minutes of this, Cullen was about to say something but stopped when he saw her biting her lip in focus. Velania sped up, put one leg out behind her, and then swung it up, jumping with the movement. Cullen’s heart stopped. She landed facing the opposite direction, and though her ankles shook for a moment, she did indeed stick the landing.

“Since when can you do that ?” Cullen asked, once he picked his jaw up off the snow.

Velania quickly whirled around to face him, slowly gliding in his direction as she said, “Successfully? About 5 seconds ago,” and Cullen didn’t miss the self-satisfied smile gracing her face.

He disbelievingly said, “What, so you just taught yourself how to do jumps?”

She shrugged. “I saw someone doing it a couple times and attempted to mimic them, but for the most part, yes.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say. He had had no clue that she was good at ice skating; he hadn’t had any clue that she even liked ice skating. For what certainly wouldn’t be the last time, Cullen keenly felt the space left empty by those four long years without her, and he breathed, “You never cease to surprise me, you know that?”

Velania’s eyebrows rose as her eyes went wide, blinking rapidly. “Um,” she said, and then she recovered, only to furrow her brow and frown. “I’m not entirely sure what that tone is, but cut it out. You’re acting weird.”

Ah. Too strong. Noted. Cullen nodded, noticing how Velania hadn’t accelerated, but was still gliding toward him. She only had a meter left before she reached him, with no sign of slowing. “Velania, do you know how to stop?” It was surely a stupid question; if she could do jumps she had to know how to-

“No, actually, so if you could just scoot to the side-” Cullen did as she bid him. “-Thank you.” Velania made to step onto the snow, melting the ice skate off of her right foot as she raised it. Her left foot ran out of ice, however, pitching her forward. Her right foot slammed onto the ground, and she stumbled. Cullen rushed to steady her arm, and surprisingly enough, she let him. The blade on the bottom of her left foot had dragged when her body tried to use it to support herself, and now Velania raised her ankle to rub at it, leaning ever-so-slightly against Cullen’s hand. When she sent a healing spell through it and put pressure on it again, Cullen let go, and she didn’t say anything about it. She merely turned to him and asked, “So, what do you want? Do you have a headache again?”

Cullen nodded.

“Is it a constant headache, or does it come and go?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Technically it comes and goes, but it’s there more often than not.”

Velania played with some fire as she nodded. “And, did what I did the other night help?” she asked. “Because I still don’t have enough elfroot.”

“Yes.” Cullen swallowed, as it occurred to him that Velania could very well refuse to help him. “If you’re willing, would you mind doing the same thing? I promise not to fall asleep on you this time.” He scratched the back of his neck when he said that last part, and Velania huffed and crossed her arms.

“Well, since you promised,” she said. “Just, close your eyes.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at her; while there wasn’t anything particularly suspicious about the request itself, her eyes glittered ever-so-slightly with the same spark of the morning Meredith fell victim to the Ice Jester. He asked, “Why?”

“Just do it.” When Cullen didn’t obey, she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, sassing, “What, Commander, have you finally decided not to trust me?”

Oh, she was definitely up to something. He held out his gloved hands and said, “I’ll close my eyes if you give me your hands.”

Her lips twitched, another sign of mischief, but to her credit, she held it together. “But, Ser Cullen, how will I be able to perform magic on your head while I’m holding your hands?” Too bad he knew her so well.

Cullen removed his gloves, pocketing them before he held out his hands again. “I don’t know, Velania, how did you do a scan of my entire body from a major blood vessel in my wrist?”

Now her eyes narrowed, just a little bit. She broke eye contact for a moment, looking past and to the side of him, then down, then back up at him again. Her round lips pressed together, but they couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at their corners. Cullen took it as recognition that he was on to her. Still, she looked up at him evenly, placed her hands in his, and coolly said, “You make a fair point, Commander. Shall we begin?”

A deal was a deal. He nodded, closing his eyes and resigning himself to whatever she was going to try to get away with. Her fingerless gloves, whose purpose he had yet to figure out since he first saw her wearing them, slid a little bit further over his calloused hands as they held him firmly.

Velania started with the same heating spell from the other night, which, if Cullen was being honest, was one of the best feelings in the world. Bond-caused sensations aside, her magic wrapped around him like a blanket, making him warm from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes. It was comforting, like he was sitting next to his parents’ fireplace again, and thus another item was added to Cullen’s mental list of reasons why he needed to see Velania more.

On this night, however, the comfort of the spell would only last so long, because just as he was settling into it, a shower of cold hit the top of his head and shoulders with a fwshhh . Cullen’s eyes snapped open. Velania hadn’t moved. Well, her lips had, right into a shameless, wolfish grin. Sachi, however, was nowhere in sight.

“It was the hart, wasn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What, did he somehow make a snowball?”

“No, you’re just standing below a big tree.”

Cullen glanced to the side; Sachi was removing his hooves from the base of a branch. Next, Cullen pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded slowly. A chunk of snow rolled off of his head and landed next to his boot. “...I suppose I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Originally I was going to just throw a snowball at you until you caught on and Sachi had to step in, but yes, you did,” Velania said, and when Cullen calmly fixed his gaze into the distance, she shifted her weight to one curved hip. Their hands were still joined; neither moved to disconnect them.

Cullen suddenly got an idea. The fact that his mind had even conceived it was a testament to how much she had rubbed off on him.

Velania recaptured his attention by stepping closer. She teased, “What? No complaints? Lectures? Admonishments?”

“Not tonight.” He could see another big snow-chunk on his shoulder, just on the edge of his vision. Oh, she’d be irritated and likely wouldn’t want to help his ailments, but it’d be so worth it just to see her face.

She shook her head at him. “Who are you, and what have you done with the goody-two-shoes from Kirkwall?”

Cullen made his move: one of his hands let go of her, and the other pulled her to him. He grabbed the snow-chunk. When she was close enough, he dropped it down the back of her shirt. She squawked indignantly against his chest, and then Cullen was five feet away and on his back. Groaning, he got up to see Velania wrap a blanket of orange aura around herself as she got the snow-chunk out of her shirt.

Now, take note, Cullen had not entirely lost his mind, contrary to what it may have looked like. In fact, every bit of his common sense was screaming at him to stop and be polite and courteous, but, you see, he was still adjusting to the idea that arguably one of the most influential women in his life had left for four years and then unexpectedly popped back up again like a little daisy. For Andraste’s sake, when they reunited in Kirkwall, he stole her cookie, right when she got off the boat! What grown man steals cookies? Cullen Stanton Rutherford, apparently!

If Cullen really thought about it, he probably had feelings he needed to sort through about her, seeing as he had kind of repressed any positive thoughts of mages for the better part of a decade. However, thinking wasn’t exactly Exhausted Cullen’s forte, and thus when Velania gaped at him as though he was insane, he merely shrugged and felt himself smile.

“I mean it when I say that I’m not the same man I was in Kirkwall,” he said, rubbing what was probably going to be a bruise by morning. “And now we’ve both put snow down the other’s back. We’re even.”

Maybe it was the fact that Velania liked being ahead of him whenever she could. Maybe it was that his smile may or may not have turned into a smug little smirk. Still, Velania stared at him in shock. Then her eyes morphed into brown abodes of fierce determination, and she growled dangerously, “Oh, Noodle Hair, you’re in for it now.”

Cullen’s heart skipped a beat, and he made a mental note: Feelings. Velania. Sort them out.

Then Velania swiftly stooped to scoop up some snow, and Cullen was rather occupied with dodging her missiles. He retaliated, obviously, and thus began the first snowball fight Cullen had had in years. She had mercy on his magic-less soul, restraining herself from using her powers. He did his best not to rely on their Bond if he lost track of her location. Of course, they teased one another on and off throughout:

“Come on, Velania, surely you can throw harder than that!”

“Says the man that can’t even hit me!”

Maker, it was exhilarating. Perhaps it would be a good idea to make the recruits have a snowball fight, if just to confuse them a little bit, Cullen thought to himself as he hid behind a tree. Then Velania jumped out at him, and another flurry of ammunition took to the air.

He dodged behind a bush, but when he peeked his head back up again, she was nowhere in sight. Cullen carefully scanned the area for signs of her, but couldn’t find any. Maybe if he just waited…..

………

……….

Alright, where was she?

“Parmesan!”

After Cullen’s ear was subjected to that exclamation, he slowly turned over his shoulder and said, “What in Andraste’s pyre-” And then he stopped short. “What’s wrong?”

Velania was crouched behind him, all trace of amusement gone from her face and replaced by confusion. She held one hand to her throat, and her brow was furrowed. She blinked, then looked up at him. She said, “Parmesa-” before cutting herself off. Nearby, Sachi’s ears perked up, and he quickly rushed over to check on his human. She tried again. “Parm-” And then clapped her hand over her mouth.

She...she’s only saying the one word. “Velania,” Cullen asked, “are you intending to say ‘parmesan?’”

She shook her head. Cullen’s gears started to turn.

“Were you trying to perform a spell on your voice?”

She nodded.

“...Did your spell backfire, and now you can only say ‘parmesan?’”

Velania’s eyes went wide. They stared at each other, Cullen fighting off a smile. Then he just couldn’t contain it any longer, and he started laughing.

“Parmesan!” Velania snapped. It only made him laugh harder, so Velania lightly shoved him. Then she crossed her arms and grumbled under her breath, “Parmesan.”

Cullen was trying, he really was, to regain his composure, so he forced out, “Velania, I sincerely apologize, but-” he broke off to giggle some more “-you have to admit,-” and then some more “-this is something only you could ever achieve.”

She flatly glared at him. In the background, Sachi chuffed with his own laughter, and so Velania glared at him, too.

Goodness, Cullen had to take some deep breaths. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded from all his laughter, not to mention the stomach cramps he was developing. “Look, we can fix this. You know the counter-spell, right?”

Velania shook her head. The smile slipped from Cullen’s face.

“You just used a spell without knowing it’s counter?”

“Parm-!” Velania took a deep breath, then raised her finger and wrote in floating fire, ‘It’s not usually that big of an issue for me!’

“Still, that’s so reckless!”

‘Wow, imagine that! I’m reckless!’

Cullen frowned, not wanting to start an argument. “We have to go get Solas, he’ll probably know some-”

Sachi suddenly took off, headed for the direction of the Haven gates.

“-thing…..Alright.”

Velania sighed, then brought out some fire to play with. Cullen merely twiddled his thumbs until Sachi came back with Solas and a bag filled with papers. Sachi placed the bag at Velania’s feet, then nuzzled the top of her head.

“Are you alright?” Solas asked.

Velania started to open her mouth, then closed it and looked at Cullen. He took the hint and said, “She was trying to do some spell involving her voice, but it backfired and now the only thing she can say is-”

“Parmesan,” Velania supplied, and Cullen nodded.

Solas looked at them, then blinked. Then he closed his eyes and muttered something in Elvish.When he opened them again, he beckoned with his hands and said, “You’re lucky the Herald decided to delay our departure by a day. I trust you have the spell in this bag; show it to me.”

As it turned out, the spell was of Velania’s own creation, and the issue was with a single glyph. Solas quickly restored Velania’s speech capabilities (her first words were “Thank the fucking Maker”) and showed her where her spell went wrong.

“This line needs to be at an acute angle, not an obtuse one, with this line here,” Solas told her. “Instead of achieving your intended goal of an amplified voice, with your current design all you can do is curse someone to only be able to say the last food they were thinking of.”

That’s what that was? Why was she thinking about parmesan cheese?

Cullen must have been making a face, because Velania snapped, “I miss parmesan cheese, okay? It’s not illegal; just look at your King.”

“Fair point,” he replied.

She made as if to turn away from him, but then froze and grinned at him. Her hand landed on his throat faster than he could register it, and suddenly all he could say was: “Potatoes.”

Velania, naturally, found it hilarious and positively howled with laughter. She muttered, “Fucking Fereldans.”

‘Potatoes are actually very good for you in moderation and have lots of vitamins,’ Cullen tried to say. Instead, he said, “Potatoes potatoespotatoes potatoes potatoespotatoespotatoes.”

Even after Solas performed the counter-spell on Cullen and left (looking very displeased, Cullen might add), Velania took some time to calm down. Cullen less said goodbye than was shooed away by a still-giggling Velania as she said, “Go get some rest, you potato man!” She had tried to sound harsh, he knew, but her brilliant smile and shining eyes had killed the effect completely.

When Cullen finally laid down in his cot, he had to pinch himself to make sure he hadn’t just imagined the past couple hours. Then he had to pinch again, just to be sure. Hmm, maybe one more time--Oh, that actually really hurt, alright, he was not dreaming or imagining things.

He, the 30 year-old ex-Templar Commander of the Inquisition, the organization trying to fix the giant hole in the sky, had actually had a snowball fight and laughed until he couldn’t breathe with his mage Voice.

His withdrawal symptoms had faded to a dull ache, and he had just had one of the most fun nights of his life.

Thank the Maker she’s back.

Cullen smiled and blew out his candle.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The next day, Cullen was utterly exhausted. His back was sore, his head hurt, his muscles ached, and to cap it all off, his throat felt scratchy from all the laughing the night before. He had gotten a couple hours of sleep before the nightmares completely kicked his ass, but he felt like he hadn’t slept a wink at all.

(But it was worth it. She was worth it. Maker help him.)

Still, he knew he’d have to endure worse from the withdrawal, so he beared through it. He saw the Herald and his party off to Val Royeaux, sent Rylen with small groups of their competent forces to work and collect coin for the Inquisition, and ran the less skilled recruits through their drills. The latter group was really coming along nicely; most of them could hold a shield correctly now, which was a definite improvement. By the end of the day, his work had distracted him enough for his ailments to subside for the moment, and as he ate a quick dinner in the tavern and determined what reports he wanted to get done that night, he overheard a conversation that, if he didn’t know the participants, he wouldn’t have believed:

“Ah, miss! Back again for more apples already?” Seggrit asked, Vendor Voice(™) turned on and going. “I thought you might be, so I got this whoooole basket just for you.” Cullen heard his voice become strained, and then there was a light thud. “Now, as my frequent customer, I’m going to give you a big discount and only charge you 15 gold for it! What do you say?”

Cullen rolled his eyes. No one in the Inquisition probably just happened to have 15 gold on them; they were a fledgling organization in the middle of a pilgrimage town for a reason, after all. Whoever Seggrit was trying to cheat, they hopefully didn’t need the apples all that badly-

“I’ll give you two gold for it.”

Now, that was Velania’s flat ‘Tranquil’ voice. Furthermore, Seggrit audibly gasped before recovering, saying, “Miss, I assure you, all of my prices are final. I don’t allow any haggling here, no siree. I know I let you have that sack for half off last week because they were about to go bad, but these are practically fresh off the tree! They’re prime specimens!”

Velania deadpanned, “That one has mold on it.”

Cullen ate faster, ears tuned in keenly. This is either going to be horrible or fantastic….I have to see it.

“Ah! So it does!” Seggrit said. “We can just throw that one away-“ There was a thud. “-and then it’s all okay!”

Um, no? If there was mold on one on top, there was probably mold on at least two of the hidden ones.

“That one has a hole in it, that one is bruised, and that one is shriveled. Based on the ratio of currently visible good apples to bad, the bushel cannot be worth 15 gold. The most efficient way to determine a price is to sort through all of them.”

“That-that isn’t necessary, surely! I’ll lower the price: 8 gold!”

“It would be unwise to sell it for any more than 2.”

Cullen finished his meal, and returned the dishes to Flissa. She smiled and whispered, “Maker have mercy on Seggrit, trying to scam that Tranquil girl like that.”

He grunted in agreement. “She seems to know what that bucket is worth, though.”

Flissa nodded, and Seggrit’s voice sailed through the window, “I’m sorry, miss, but a man has to eat. Final offer: 7 gold. Take it or leave it.”

Cullen slowly walked to the tavern door, peering down the path to Seggrit’s cart. Velania stood, staring at Seggrit, in those horridly grey robes, thinking. Please say no, Cullen wanted to call to her; he hardly hid his displeasure whenever Seggrit tried to sell him some overpriced, unnecessary rubbish. His face will be fantastic.

Velania opened her mouth to speak. “I reject your offer. Goodnight.” Then she pivoted in her heel and started walking away.

Seggrit’s eyes flashed as he rolled them and said, “Fine! Two gold!” Velania stopped and looked back. “I will sell the basket to you for two gold. Just… take the damn apples.”

Cullen leaned against the outside of the tavern wall, watching as Velania handed over the money. His arms started to surge with power as Velania picked up the basket effortlessly. Force magic. He waited until she was nearing Haven’s gates before he strolled up to Seggrit, who was grumbling to himself, “Can’t just say ‘yes’ and be content, no. Why does a Tranquil even barter so stubbornly?”

“Because you sell things at unreasonable prices,” Cullen said, crossing his arms. “Though, if you’re going to charge 15 gold for a bunch of bad apples, maybe you shouldn’t be selling things in the first place.”

Seggrit snapped to attention. “Commander! I didn’t see you there.”

“Evidently.” Cullen looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and walked on. He called over his shoulder, “Just because you’re one of the few vendors here doesn’t mean we won’t kick you out, you know!”

“Yes, sir!”

What a weasel of a man, Cullen thought, shaking his head. He made to return to his tent, but then Sister Leliana intercepted him with a letter from Rylen. Good news, of course, but now Cullen had another report that he probably needed to start on before he went and saw Velania.

Yes, he was going to see her again; no, he hadn’t set aside the time to let himself consider his feelings about her. He intended to get around to it, though! Just….not that day.

Despite it being the 6th night in a row that he’d left his tent in the middle of the night, following the pull to his Voice, Cullen couldn’t help but feel like he was sneaking around. His eyes glanced around the area, but there obviously wasn’t anyone around in the dead of night. Still, he tried to be quiet as he departed to the forest. He had expected to just go and talk to her for a while, maybe ask for a healing spell if she was willing.

He couldn’t have been prepared, emotionally, mentally, or physically, for what actually happened.

First of all, when he called to Velania, she turned around from her seat against a tree and smiled. He was glad that she didn’t look at him with murder in her eyes, of course, but while murder wasn’t preferable, Velania plus him didn’t usually equal smiles, either. Something was definitely up.

So, he hesitantly walked to her. She patted the snow next to her left side, as Sachi sat to her right. He slowly sat down. Her warmth spell enveloped him, and she looked at him with her big brown eyes that seemed... glossed over?

Why are they like that?

Velania didn’t allow him the time to ask, though, because she giggled (yes, giggled, Cullen couldn’t believe it either,), leaned toward him, and said, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come back. I’d kind of hoped you would. Last night was good.”

Cullen quickly checked his feelings around the Bond between him and Velania. Nope, he could still feel the draw to her, incredibly slack but ever-present in a way that his dreams were never able to mimic. He was awake. “Velania, are you feeling alright?”

She blinked. “Of course! I will admit, I feel a little bit….tipsy, I think is the word, since I started drinking this stuff Varric gave me before he and the others left-“ She produced a mostly-full bottle of amber liquid from her other side, and Cullen felt his entire being go Maker’s breath! as she continued, “-but I’m not drunk.”

He fought the urge to facepalm. “Why did Varric give you alcohol?”

She considered it for a moment. A floating flame above her head sputtered as it waved through the air. Then Velania’s flushed face fell, and she visibly deflated when she said, “He wanted to say sorry for pushing me. I’d already forgiven him. He was just trying to help, even though no one can help me.” Once Cullen’s mind processed that, his heart broke a little bit.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Is there nothing I can do to help you?”

Velania looked like she’d been slapped. “What? Of course not!” She looked away, fingertips twitching, and her right hand wrapped around her left wrist. “No, no, no. You wouldn’t like it at all. No one would. I’d have to leave again. My Voice would hate me. Everyone would hate me.”

Sachi rumbled, knocking her knee with his head.

“Well, everyone except you, Sach.” Velania slumped against the tree, bringing one leg closer to her chest. She brought the bottle of alcohol to her lips before gazing off into the distance, and Cullen’s stomach churned as he realized that he knew that look.

It was the same one she’d had when he found her after the Qunari attack. It was a look of sorrow and devastation, and of helplessness to stop it.

Yet, as much as Cullen wanted to know what shadows tugged at her in a moment of relative peace, he wondered if he actually wanted to know.

What on earth could make me hate her? What could make everyone hate her? Well, if Varric thinks he knows, it can’t be something incredibly bad, but still….Would it be better to never know?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he wanted Velania to be sober and in her right mind if he did find out and get upset. Thus, he swallowed his worry and calmly said, “Velania, I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

She snapped to attention, frowning deeply. “But I like it.”

“Velania. I will take it from you.” Cullen leaned to grab the bottle. She retaliated by leaning away from him until she was practically laying on her side.

“Noooooooo,” she whined, clutching the ¾-full bottle. “It’s miiiiiine.”

Great, she went from ‘miserable’ to ‘toddler’ in 5 seconds. “You shouldn’t have any more tonight.”

“I am an adult!” she declared as she pointed to the sky, as if she was telling it off. Then she looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore, you...you meanie!”

Oh wow. She called him a meanie. How hurtful. Cullen fought the urge to roll his eyes. Someone grab some ice.

“Vel-“

“Meanie.”

“Are you-“

“Meeaanie~”

“Seriously,-“

“Meeeeeeaaaaaanie!”

Cullen looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Part of him was seriously contemplating getting up and leaving her to her own devices-

“I just remembered! I can do this thing when I drink!”

I could be doing work right now.

Velania staggered to her feet, then almost tripped and fell on her face, then regained her balance. Cullen groaned internally. With one slender hand on the bottle and the other on her throat, she took a long drink. When she lowered the bottle, she pursed her lips and tilted her head back.

Then she breathed fire.

Orange and blue heat curled from her mouth into the air, illuminating the air above her and making her tanned skin glow. Her braid swung in the air as her back arched, one strong leg placed in front of the other.

The air left Cullen’s lungs at her impressive display, and his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed thickly and told himself that it was because of three realizations he’d had in the part of his brain that was still working. These realizations were:

1. Velania was a powerful fire mage.
2. Velania was drunk.
3. Velania was surrounded by very wooden, very flammable trees.

When she stopped, she turned to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, smiled and said, “I’m like a little dragon!”

He barely contained the little exhale of exasperation as his mind resumed functioning. Sachi, meanwhile, let forth a sound that, if he were human, would sound very much like ‘woot woot!’

Maker help me.

Maybe his prayers hadn’t fallen on deaf ears for once, because Velania suddenly yawned. Opportunity knocked, and Cullen jumped to answer it.

“Did that make you tired?” he asked. “It was positively stunning, but I wouldn’t be surprised It it took a lot of energy. Maybe it would be best to go to sleep.”

Hint, hint, Velania. Hint hint.

She seemed to consider this for a moment before pulling out a cork from her pocket and stopping the bottle. After gently putting the bottle on the ground (thank the Maker), she tilted her head and whined, “But you’d leave.”

She….doesn’t want me to leave? He thought, then scolded himself. Priorities! She is drunk and needs to rest. Everything else is irrelevant. Yes, he just needed to focus on that.

Cullen stated firmly, “I would leave, unless you needed help with something.” He stood up and brushed himself off. Velania fade-stepped to him, stumbling with the spell’s finish, and he barely caught her before she bumped into him. “I really think you should rest, Velania.”

She frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re kind of fun when you’re not being a dick,” she complained. She stood close to him, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath as she continued, “Well, maybe not quite fun, but….less of a pain in the ass? Yes, that sounds right. You, Ser Cullen Rutherford, are less of a pain in the ass.” One finger poked him in the chest with each syllable of her declaration, and Cullen had to bite back the ‘gee, thanks’ that sat on the tip of his tongue. He was glad he did, though, because he could listen to her next words: “It’s really nice, actually, not to fight with you all the time, but it’s also really weird and strange, and I dunno what to do with any of that.”

His heart skipped a beat again, and a little seedling of hope took root before he pushed it away. Priorities . “You don’t have to worry about that tonight. For now, why don’t you sit next to Sachi and get some rest?”

Sachi, who had done nothing but sit on the ground since Cullen first found Velania, lifted his head and ‘Ppph’-ed in...agreement? Protest? Fuck if Cullen knew.

“M’kay.”

Cullen nearly sighed in relief.

“But you have to stay.”

wHAT. “Why do you want me to stay if you’re going to sleep?”

“Because you’re warm.”

“I-uh...Sachi’s warm, too!”

“Then I can have Sachi on one side of me, and you on the other. I’ll be super-ultra-mega warm!”

Cullen was dreaming. He had to be. Then again, was his mind this creative? He thought not, and when Velania looked up at him with those big brown eyes, glazed over though they were, he thought to himself, What could the harm be?

But he had work to do. He couldn’t just stay because she asked him to-

“~I know what you’re thinking~” Velania interrupted his thoughts and poked him in the cheek. No, he definitely couldn’t dream this up. She said, “You’re thinking of all the reasons to go, but I think you should stay, because then you know that I did not get up to any drunken mischief in your absence.”

“Is that an admittance that you are indeed drunk?”

“.....Mayyyybe.” Velania held out her pinky finger. “Now, are you in?”

Cullen hesitated. Honestly, at this point…...Ah, fuck it. “You’ll go straight to sleep if I stay? No more shows of your pyromancy prowess.”

She giggled. “I like that. ‘Pyromancy prowess.’ Makes me sound important or somethin’.”

“Velania.”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll go to sleep if you stay, but you have to do the pinky promise.”

Cullen barely fought back the eyeroll while his pinky promised.

“Now take off your armor.”

Um, no? “Why do I need to take off my armor?” Cullen protested. “I’m comfortable in it!”

Velania frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. “Because your shoulder stuff is metal and pointy. And don’t try to get out of it; you already agreed. I would never trust you again for breaking your word if you left now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it is, is it?”

She shrugged, patted his cheek (don’t ask him why), and sat next to Sachi with a huff. Cullen weighed his options and looked up at the moons.

Maker , he thought, it’s always her causing my life to be so strange, isn’t it?

He figured he may as well jump right in, because the moons were already descending, so he quickly removed his armor and plopped himself beside Velania. Thank the Maker for warming spells, because otherwise he’d be freezing.

She immediately turned to him and said, “Oh, and don’t tell Sober Velania about what I said about you earlier. She doesn’t like to think about it too much.”

He nodded, leaning back against the big pine tree. “Ready to go to sleep?”

Velania didn’t respond, but Cullen felt her head rest on his shoulder. Sachi readjusted himself to curl around her, and one tanned hand came to bury itself in his fur. With a snap of her fingers, the floating fire above them went out, casting them into darkness, and Velania murmured, “ Now I’m ready.”

Cullen internally sighed, feeling a little bit like his heart was tap-dancing. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Was he supposed to fall asleep, too, or was he to stay awake? Velania’s magic wrapped around him, Sachi, and herself protectively as she relaxed. That was probably what was making Cullen’s heart race. Yep, that was it. Definitely not the unusual physical contact with his Voice.

“One more thing,” Velania suddenly said, picking up her head. When he looked at her dark form, he saw her eyes flash hot-red. She lowly and tiredly continued, “I don’t think you would, but if you dare try anything similar to what Ser Alrik tried while I’m still drunk, or not, whichever, I will give you the same treatment I gave him, okay?”

Cullen nodded silently, too shocked to reply.

“Okay. Goodnight, weirdo. ‘Night, Sach.”

“Mrph mrph.”

…..Well, he wasn’t going to sleep now. Now he was thinking about Ser Alrik. Eeugh….Wait.

He whispered, “Velania, what do you mean, ‘the same treatment you gave him?’” Cullen wracked his brain for possibilities, but came up with nothing. “Velania?”

But Velania was asleep and lightly snoring, and Cullen didn’t know whether to be worried or glad that someone had given Alrik the punishment that Cullen’s former ignorance wasn’t able to provide. She hadn’t killed him, but if she hadn’t killed him, what had she done?

Well, in any case, it’d have to wait until the morning.  Velania seemed so small like this, flopped against his side. The back of his head pulled forth her words from earlier, when she was worried about Varric and people hating her. Cullen took a deep breath.

“I’m not going to hate you,” he determinedly said, “though you may not be too pleased with yourself when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”

Then, before he could stop himself, he lightly kissed what little part of her forehead he could reach from his position.

“....I’m really not going to hate you. I don’t know if I even could, at this point.”

She didn’t stir, thankfully, and Cullen mumbled his ‘goodnights’ to her and Sachi and drifted off to sleep.

…………………..

Velania POV

Velania woke up a little before dawn, when the first pale tendrils of light wound their way over the horizon, and when a pinecone decided to fall down and scrape against her face. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, though, refusing to be roused. Her head pounded, and her throat felt dry and scratchy. The events of the previous night were foggy, only bits and pieces of her memory coming back: fire; alcohol; warmth; stars; and a pair of surprised golden eyes.

Initially she wrote it off as some really strange dream, snuggling her cheek against Sachi’s warm mass beside her. But...wait. Sachi didn’t smell like leather polish and heavenly lavender. He smelled like tree bark and smelly hart. Heart rate increasing, her eyes shot open.

Sachi was ten feet away, using a tree to scratch his back, and as one, every fiber of Velania’s being tensed as she internally squeaked, Oh no what did I get myself into.

Her body, tired though it may have been, jerked away from the warmth at her side, and she didn’t dare look back until she had crawled to Sachi.

“Brau?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she hissed. “I am going to turn around, and Ser Cullen Rutherford is going to be behind me, because apparently he slept beside me for some fucking reason, and you , you let him! Why did you let him do that?!”

Sachi lowered his head, nuzzling her. “Mrrrppphh.”

“I will not calm down! I don’t even remember everything! That man is lucky you’re here, because if you weren’t, and if I had no way of knowing if he had….. done anything to me, I would eviscerate him.” Her hands flew as she spoke, anxious embers flying from her fingertips with every flail.

Ser Cullen started to stir with a grunt, and as Velania finally turned to look at him, her magic wrapped around her like a protective blanket. He wasn’t wearing his armor. It lay on the ground, and he sat in just a light undershirt. Why wasn’t he wearing his armor?

He opened his eyes and squinted at her sleepily. In a hoarse, husky voice, he groaned, “Velania? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t respond. She hadn’t thought about what to say when he woke up. Shit. Her head still hurt.

“Velania?” he repeated, softer, and she refocused on him. She hadn’t realized she was staring at the tree behind him. “Oh. You probably aren’t feeling well. What do you remember?”

Sachi sat down beside her and slightly forward, protecting but unrestricting. She buried a hand in his fur and replied, “A little bit. I was drunk. You were here. You evidently stayed here. Sachi made sure nothing happened.”

His brow furrowed. “You didn’t really do much, I suppose. You just talked a fair bit, breathed fire, and called me a meanie when I tried to take the bottle away from you,” he said, gesturing to said bottle as it lay where Drunk Velania had left it on the snow. Then he added, “You also interrupted me when you called me a meanie.”

Good. You deserve it . “That does sound like me, but I meant Sachi was watching you.” Ser Cullen looked at her in confusion, so she added, “I don’t know if you recall Ser Alrik, but I certainly do.”

The change was immediate. His eyes went wide; his back straightened; and his face paled as his lips whispered in horror, “No. Maker’s breath, Velania, I promise you, I would never, ever do something like that. Ever. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t know what Alrik was doing back then. If I had, he would have been gone in an instant, I swear, and-“

“Did you really not know?” Velania interrupted, blinking in surprise. “I...I thought everyone knew. We all did. We made sure every new girl did.”

He shook his head sadly. “I really didn’t. I...I failed all of you.”

Velania shrugged tiredly. She’d spent years sure that he’d known, and to know he hadn’t was more reassuring than she expected. She merely said, “We were Kirkwall mages. We took care of our own.”

“Still, it was my job. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They looked at each other, matching miserable expressions, before Ser Cullen slowly began, “Last night, the last thing you said to me was that, if I tried anything like Ser Alrik-“ He grimaced. “-you’d ‘give me the same treatment.’ If I may, I was wondering what that meant.” Then he hastily added, “You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. We could just...go back to Haven and start the day.”

Velania bit her lip, considering it. She rose to her feet before she had voiced her thoughts, and Sachi and Ser Cullen rose as well. Ser Cullen began brushing himself off and putting his armor back on. Did she really want to talk about this? She could. It wasn’t the thing that kept her up at night. She knew she was safe. Besides, he’d likely make a face, she thought, and I do like his different faces. Alright. That settles it. She said, “Do you remember that fortnight where he had a ‘leg injury’ that he needed to be bedridden for?”

Ser Cullen paused in his belt-buckling, then slowly nodded. “Velania, please just say it outright-“

“I cut off one of his balls.”

A moment of silence passed, during which Ser Cullen’s soul practically left his body. He blinked rapidly, then whimpered, “You did what? He deserved it, of course, but….Maker’s breath.” Once he got his jaw to close, he said, “Wait. It would have gotten infected.”

“I cauterized it.”

“...Ah.” And if Velania paid close attention, she noticed that Ser Cullen stood with his legs very close together. “That is..um...Wow. Was that the only route you could have taken?”

Velania raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I just,” he said, sighing, “I just wish you’d told someone about all of this before you took matters into your own hands.”

She gave him a hard look, and the more her brain processed his words, the more she decided they were the biggest pile of druffalo shit she’d heard in a long time. It was stunning, really, how little he seemed to think of things sometimes.

Then the anger exploded over her, and with a quick fade-step to him, she snapped, “Who was I supposed to tell, huh? I thought everyone knew. We did, as did most of the Templars, if they weren’t being his accomplice. Meredith didn’t give a shit, Orsino was useless, as were our Senior Enchanters. Half of us were too scared to speak up about it, and the other half spent all their time trying to convince the themselves and their peers that blood magic was the answer. Not a single soul outside the Circle cared what happened to us!” Her voice shook, and she had to take a deep breath before angrily finishing, “Who was I supposed to tell?!”

Ser Cullen’s expression could only be described as heartbroken mixed with surprise. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes as she glared at him, and she hated it. He said, “Velania, I…. I’m so, so sorry.”

She let her eyes bore into his before she stepped closer and shook her head. “Sometimes ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it, does it, Knight-Captain? ”

Velania barely saw him flinch, saw the light dim in his eyes, before she turned on her heel and marched back toward Haven.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my research shift starts at dawn.”

Then she left, and she took her warmth spell with her.

…………………………………………………..

It took all of her willpower to keep her magic under control that day. Velania froze her facial muscles to keep from making expressions; torches threatened to lash furiously before she calmed them. Luckily, the mood passed with time, and getting food and drink in her stomach helped.

However, her mood dipped again when her abdomen began to ache, growing in intensity until it felt like her insides were being ground into bits. Velania counted the days since she’d last felt like this.

Shit, I am due, aren’t I? Dammit.

The next time she went to the toilets, her suspicions were confirmed, and she barely refrained from sighing loudly. On the bright side, Adan only kept her an hour after that, and then she was free.

That night, Velania curled up between Sachi and a boulder. Her sleeping potions she’d accidentally left in one of her hiding spots, and she didn’t like using elfroot for cramps when her supplies were still so low. Instead, she rubbed a hand over her stomach and tried to distract herself with ponderings of potential stargazing spots. If one wave of pain was especially bad, she used rejuvenation spells to relax the muscles the best she could. The first 24 hours were always the worst, but, hey, it was better than being pregnant. She just had to-

“Velania?”

.....Really? She just couldn’t get a break for one night, could she?

Velania, internally groaning, pushed herself up onto her knees, summoned a little floating light, and glared at Ser Cullen. “No,” she declared. “Absolutely not. Not tonight. For that matter, not for the next five days, minimum. Just turn your ex-Templar ass around and leave me alone.”

Another wave hit her, and she put a hand on her stomach and used magic. He noticed, and straightened his spine while his eyes widened.

“Are you alright?” he said. “What’s wrong with your stomach? Are you injured? Hurt?”

“No, of course not.” She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just....stuff.”

“So there is something causing you pain.”

Sweet Maker, how could she put this in a manner that wouldn’t destroy his female-inexperienced brain? Oh, wait. Velania knew how, if he even remembered what she was referring to. She took a deep breath and dragged a hand down her face. “Do you recall that morning in Ferelden where you helped me take care of a situation with my sheets?” She tiredly asked, peeking between her fingers.

Confusion crossed Ser Cullen’s face, then left. His eyes lit up with recognition, and he slowly said, “The one that you made me swear not to mention to anyone, ever?”

“That would be it.”

“Oh....I’m sorry.”

She shrugged.

His shoulders relaxed, and his feet started to point away, but he still stayed, fidgeting with one of his gloves. He hesitantly said, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

The demons, for the hundredth time that week, started screaming that he was up to something, but she just shoved them aside. “No. I can take care of it.”

Cullen frowned, and if Velania didn’t know him so well, she’d say he was determined to be helpful-

“I’ll be right back.” He turned on his heel and walked back toward Haven. “I believe Flissa baked cookies tonight.”

....She stood corrected, and her stomach gurgled at the word ‘cookie.’

No! Bad Velania! She didn’t need cookies! Especially not cookies from him ! He stole her cookie the moment she arrived in Kirkwall!

(Yes, she remembered. She never forgave, and she never forgot.)

“That really isn’t necessary!” She called after him.

He ignored her and kept on walking.

“I’m serious, Ser Cullen!”

Still walking. Velania’s stomach complained again; she turned her glare to it.

Traitor. I don’t need him to be feeding me sweets.

While that may have been the truth, she also sorely missed the sweet rolls and pink lemonade from Gladice and Lucille in the Hinterlands. She’d have to go visit them when she left the Inquisition.

But post-Inquisition plans were a matter for another, cramp-less day. For now, she was...waiting? With Ser Cullen apparently returning, she felt obligated to wait for him.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t flop back down beside Sachi, though. Sachi sleepily nuzzled her head, and by the time Noodle Hair returned, she was very comfortable. Unfortunately, that meant she had to muster the willpower to rise up when he returned with a murmur of, “Velania? Are you asleep?”

She slowly lifted herself up again, squinting when she saw a steaming cup in his right hand and a cookie in his left. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding to the cup. Beer doesn’t steam. Do they have apple cider in the tavern?

Ser Cullen offered both items to her; she took them as he said, “Chamomile tea, and I also have a chocolate chip cookie. I don’t know if the tea actually helps, but my older sister always insisted on drinking it when she was in pain. Flissa said you can just return the cup to her in the morning.”

Damn, he threw his sister in there. She couldn’t just diss his sister’s tastes when she’d never had chamomile tea before! Issues with him aside, there was a line, and for her that line was insulting the unmet family of her long-term pain-in-the-ass.

So, she looked at the the honey-colored drink and carefully took a drink. It was actually...pretty good. Light, flowery...hmm. She took another, slightly larger sip.

“I take it you like it, then,” Ser Cullen said, and she glanced up to see him smiling, pleased. When he smiled, he brought attention to that damned lip scar, just as he had when he’d smirked and taunted her during their snowball fight. It was unbearably distracting; that didn’t sit entirely well with Velania.

Luckily for her, she didn’t have to tolerate it much longer, because he quickly nodded and said, “I’ll take my leave. Goodnight, Velania.”

“You’re leaving? Just like that?” The words shot out of her mouth before she could catch them, and she saw a hint of surprise cross Ser Cullen’s features at being called back.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “You have expressed on a number of occasions a desire for me to leave you alone, and I have been rude enough to ignore them. I’m sorry about that.” He paused, giving a sheepish little side-smile, then continued, “I also believe I owed you a cookie, and now that debt is repaid. I’ll leave you in peace. May the Maker take away your pains soon.”

Then Ser Cullen walked away, and Velania was left wondering at his gifts. Really, she couldn’t believe him. There had to be a catch. People like him didn’t do stuff like this for people like her.

Was he trying to bribe her with food? That could be it! Yes, that was a solution. How dare he bring her food! Like her favor could be bought with something as simple as a cookie and some tea. Hmph!

I bet it’s not even chocolate chip, she thought, lifting it up to examine the cookie. She started to bring it closer to her mouth-

I bet it’s full of oatmeal and raisins and he thought he’d be sneaky and trick me-

She bit down. It was not oatmeal and raisin. It was gooey, soft, delicious milk chocolate.

Her favorite.

Don’t be fooled! She was still angry! Oh, yes, very, very angry! Extremely, tremendously, intensely, angry! Maybe, just maybe, she was slightly less angry, but the sentiment was still there!

........She took another bite of the cookie. It was still wonderful.

Dammit.

Chapter Text

Pride POV

“So, I have an idea,” Desire said. Pride turned their horned head, and when they beckoned with a talon for Desire to approach Pride’s throne, Desire continued, “What if we got her pregnant?”

Pride’s many eyes blinked in surprise, but then they thought about it aloud: “She’d be more hormonal and emotional, under constant physical duress.....But who would be the father?”

Desire shot Pride a skeptical look. “We all know who the father would be. Not that he’d be brave enough to stay long-term if she told him, and she’d probably feel obligated to tell him. If she carries the child to term, it will surely inherit her powers, and both of us get vessels. As long as the others stay in line, it will work out perfectly.”

Pride grunted in agreement. If she were pregnant, and if he left, she’d isolate herself again, and no one would be able to notice them closing in until it was too late. There was just one problem. “But Velania doesn’t like him ; she likes her Voice .”

“Yes, a man that seemingly doesn’t care enough about her to tell her his name.” Desire put their hands of their hips, raising an eyebrow. Pride nearly growled at the reminder. After all, who the fuck did that little prick think he was, emotionally wounding their prey and forcing her to become stronger?

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, Desire.”

Desire shrugged, golden chest chains clinking as they did so. “At least the Fereldan fool’s already given me something to work with, butting into her life and being completely obvious. I’ll probably have them lusting after one another by the end of the month.”

“Very well.” Pride waved a hand in dismissal. “However, you should still continue preparations for her punishment.”

“Consider it done.” Desire strutted away, but just before it reached the door, Pride remembered another thing on the to-do list.

“Oh, and send in Sloth. It’s time to warn the others of what happens to deviants.”

“Of course, your Maliciousness.”

With a snap of clawed fingers, Sloth appeared, bound and kneeling on the hard stone. Pride  rose and roared, and one by one, Rage, Despair, and Fear materialized on the sidelines. Sloth tried to speak behind its gag, but Pride swiftly kicked it.

“Do you know why I gathered you worthless creatures?” Pride hissed. None responded, instead looking at Sloth. “I gathered you because I’m done letting this traitor-“ it gestured at Sloth “-get a share of her power. You know what happened; I won’t recount it. I have been gracious enough thus far, but no more.”

With a single motion, Pride summoned its electric whip and brought it crashing down on Sloth. Then it was brought down again. And again. And again. Sloth whimpered, marks from previous beatings scarring its back.

But the wounds would not heal this time.

Pride beat Sloth into the ground, and when Sloth’s form went limp, Pride flung it into the stone walls. As Sloth’s body withered away into dust, the other demons tensed, and Pride growled, “This is your only warning. I will not tolerate insubordination again. Any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. You’re all dismissed.”

………………………………………………..

Velania POV

Ser Cullen kept his word. In the week or so that passed after their last midnight meeting, Velania only saw him when she passed by the training area. If he ever saw her, he didn’t show it. It wasn’t like Kirkwall, where sometimes she felt like he was actively avoiding her. This was merely coexisting.

It was nice, in some ways: she got more sleep, painted a bunch, and actually finished the bulk of her calculations for the upcoming astronomical event (only weeks away!!!). In other ways, however....

“I’m so bored .” Velania flopped onto the snow beside Sachi. With Fellassan and the others on their way back from Val Royeaux, and with Ser Cullen leaving her alone, things were extremely quiet. Her Voice had made himself scarce as well, something which rarely happened nowadays, and on restless nights like this one, she repeatedly wondered if he was awake, too.

Another thing that happened frequently on these nights was thinking. More specifically, thinking about Ser Cullen. Now that she’d had some alone time, it occurred to her that he was actually repentant. It also occurred to her that she didn’t know what exactly he was and wasn’t aware of in Kirkwall. If he didn’t know half as much as she thought, then 1) he’d be an oblivious idiot and 2) she’d feel almost guilty for wrongly blaming him. Staying quiet was always an option, but she’d done too much of that in Kirkwall anyways.

No, she wanted answers, and he was obviously eager as a golden retriever(was that the phrase?) to tell her ...well, she didn’t really know what he wanted to tell her. She’d kind of cut him off each time. In any case, they could both benefit from a conversation.

A flame sprung to life with a snap of her fingers, instantly turning sky blue, and she finally opened the Channel.

Are you still up? she whispered.

Yes, came the immediate response. Good, so she could talk louder.

Name an animal, any animal.

Um….a nug. Why?

Just wanted something to play with. The blue flame grew and molded as she bid it, until there was a nug before her. It moved stiffly at first, then more fluid as she got the hang of controlling it.

She closed the Channel most of the way, then hesitated. After all, her Voice did seem to know Ser Cullen pretty well. Maybe he could deliver a message for her?

Velania opened the Channel again.

Wait, was she really that determined that she’d ask her Voice to do that? Wasn’t that kind of overstepping things? She was capable; she could find her own way to tell Ser Cullen her wishes. Yes, that was right.

She closed the Channel.

Wait- She opened the Channel again.

I can feel that, you know, her Voice gently said. What’s on your mind?

She took a deep breath, then forced the words out as fast as she could. I want to talk to Ser Cullen about Kirkwall.

There was a pause. You do?

Yes. Not tonight, obviously. He ought to be asleep. But maybe tomorrow night. The fire nug’s form twitched nervously; she felt like she was confessing something terrible. She supposed that mages and templars just talking was something terrible, something almost unheard of. Sure, she talked to her Voice all the time, but he was always the exception. No one could prove they were in contact. At the end of the day, he could cut ties with her entirely, and that would be….fine.

Alright. I...I will pass the message along.

Thank you. She paused, then quickly asked, Would you like to see the nug? I’d have to pull you into my head again, but I’m not sure if that made you uncomfortable.

….I think that’d be alright.

If you’re unsure, that’s fine, you know I wouldn’t make you-

Velania, you’re rambling again.

Am I?

Yes. I merely have matters to consider, he firmly said. Please, show me this creation of yours. Velania took a deep breath and pulled him over. He gasped; maybe she’d gone too fast. Still, he would tell her if he wanted her to stop, so she called the little nug closer to her. Royal blue, it slowly walked over, Velania making miniscule corrections to its motions as she saw fit. It stopped in front of her, sniffing and making those strange little squeaks. Her Voice said almost sheepishly, I suppose I should have mentioned before that I’m not particularly fond of nugs. I’m afraid I’ve always found them rather ugly.

Oh, surely, Velania said, but at least the lack of hair makes it easier to animate them. I don’t think I could do something really complex, like a peacock.

I think you could do anything you set your mind to.

Velania’s heart skipped a beat. She already knew the answer based off his solemn tone, but she still asked, Do you really think that?

Yes, he said solemnly, then cheekily added, Provided that it isn’t your first attempt. Those tend to blow up in your face.

She rolled her eyes but felt her lips wanting to stretch into a smile. You’re hilarious. What if I wanted to change the world?

There was a pause. Then, shyly and nearly inaudible: Well, you’ve already changed mine.

….Maker’s breath, he couldn’t just say things like that. Despair and Desire always said she latched onto words too easily, and in moments like this, when her heart stopped and her cheeks burned, she knew it to be far too true. She’d already been there, done that, and only ended up locking herself in Kinloch’s magic-proof cells. When they started talking again, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let history repeat itself, and he’d tell her his name before she broke that vow.

And yet, it was so easy to give in to temptation.

How so? She said, smiling to herself. Endless supplies of snark? Creative insult ideas?

There was another pause. I was thinking more along the lines of why random mushrooms shouldn’t be ingested.

That was only one time!

It made you transparent!

Velania snorted and rolled her eyes. She’d missed this after the Blight; it was good to have him back.

..………………………………..

She and her Voice stayed up talking for much longer than Velania had intended, and she let him remain in her eyes as she climbed one of the many trees surrounding her, careful to crouch on the side of the tree facing away from Haven and its many scouts. She also may have descended in 0.5 seconds (thank you, haste spells) for the sole reason of worrying her Voice while she laughed, but that wasn’t important.

What was important was that she was in a good mood as the next day passed, and when night fell again, and when she stood waiting for Ser Cullen to join her, she wasn’t wringing her hands as much as she otherwise would have.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d forgotten about Ser Cullen entirely and had just started washing most of her clothes when she suddenly remembered. Velania was still going to let her laundry soak, of course; even magic couldn’t get some stains out. No, the issue merely lied in that she was rather stuck wearing black leather pants and a beige shirt that used to be long-sleeved and came down to her thighs, but due to a past bandage shortage, was now sleeveless and resembled the style of what she believed the youths called a “crop top”.

(Not that the style had anything about it that was obviously related to the harvest. Fashion was a very strange thing sometimes.)

So, Velania was in a good mood, but she was also waiting for a Fereldan Templar while wearing less clothing than she would have liked. If he faints at the sight of my midriff, he can just stay in the snow, she decided, playing with the edge of the gloves from Varric and a wyrdlight that bounced in the air.

Eventually she heard footsteps, and Velania’s traitorous hart made a little “brrph” of greeting as he trotted over. She made the wyrdlight brighter and was about to follow when-

“What on earth happened to your stomach?!”

She glanced down at herself. Scars littered her skin, the older ones distinguished from the newer by how faded they were. Not a single one was less than a year old. Velania glanced back up at Ser Cullen’s amber eyes and raised an eyebrow. “The last decade happened,” she deadpanned, “and good evening to you, too, Commander.”

He rolled his eyes as he made his last steps to her side, Sachi happily following. Ser Cullen solemnly said, “I apologize for the lack of manners, but in my defense, I was unaware that you had been harmed so much. Are you alright?”

Velania’s mind momentarily stalled at the question, but not for as long as it would have a month ago. it would seem that she was getting used to him asking about her. That was strange. Unexpected. Still, she was quick to shrug and brush it off. “It’s fine. My back looks worse.” She took a deep breath, crossed her arms, and continued, “Now, I have laundry to tend to, so let’s make this quick: I want to know what exactly you knew was going on at Kirkwall.”

His shoulders stiffened, like he was bracing himself. His eyes went to the ground, and when they came back up again, he met her hard gaze with his own, resigned but determined. “Alright,” He said firmly. “Where do you want to begin?”

She’d expected him to want to assume control of the discussion, to start trying to justify himself. If he wanted to put her in charge for once, she wasn’t going to complain, she just needed to think. Velania pulled away and started to pace, her braid brushing her shoulders with each sharp pivot, and she paused only to tiredly say, “You should probably lean against a tree or something so you’re not just standing there for however long this takes. And do you want a heating spell, or would you rather avoid magical applications to your person while we discuss the Circles?”

He blinked, and his breath, visible in the cold air, came out in a cloud as he deeply exhaled. “I appreciate you asking, Velania, but I’m not that sensitive, or at least not to you. Perhaps to others whose magic I’m less accustomed to, or maybe if we were talking about what happened during the Blight, but your magic is familiar and has little-to-no negative associations tied to it. A heating spell would be very welcome.”

Velania nodded and reached out a hand, her orange aura appearing above it. Sachi came up beside her on her opposite side, and she focused on petting him with her free hand so she could avoid staring at Ser Cullen. She, of all mages, was the exception to the rule? It was better than nothing, she supposed, implausible as it was, and she wanted to get through tonight with minimal bickering. She felt his gloved hand come into contact with her magic, and she gently let her warmth envelop him before she pulled away and started pacing again. He murmured his thanks, and she mumbled a quick, “Anytime.” Then she began her questioning with what she already knew: “So, you didn’t know about Ser Alrik, so you probably didn’t know about Ser Karras either.”

“Both of them? No, that makes sense; they did spend a lot of time together.”

Velania nodded and moved on; Rage was starting to hiss at her. “For the sake of not setting anything on fire, I’m going to skip thoroughly discussing the overuse of the Rite of Tranquility. You knew about it, no doubt-“

He hesitantly opened his mouth as if to speak, and when she raised an eyebrow, he said, “Sometimes Meredith would authorize Rites without my counsel. At first, it was maybe one or two over a few years, and by the end it must have been every other occasion.”

“Did you ever do anything to address this?”

“I attempted to bring it up a few times, but stopped after she dismissed my complaints as being ‘the will of the Maker’.” Ser Cullen used finger quotes as he spoke, and a bit of Velania’s unease uncurled itself around her heart when she saw the blatant irritation in his eyes. Good.

“Next on my mental list are the beatings. You surely knew about them, since they weren’t exactly hidden.”

“Yes.”

She paused in her pacing. “I heard Ser Ilia and Ser Patrick were punished for what they did to Apprentice Harold during his Harrowing. Is that true?”

He nodded and firmly said, “Yes. I saw to it myself. No lyrium for a month.”

“That long?”

“For beating an apprentice mid-Harrowing in hopes he’d fail?! Absolutely. I only wish I’d been supervising that day and had stopped it before they put the boy in the infirmary.”

Velania bit her lip in thought and resumed her pacing. “Alright, next: keeping food from us.”

“I was also aware of that, though in your letter to Seeker Pentaghast you mentioned more common instances and longer durations. I was only aware of a handful of occasions, all of which were only for a meal or two, and never two meals in a row.”

She shook her head. There were those mild occasions, but he’d still missed so much. “I don’t remember whether I put it in my letter, but Alrik had my food halved for about a month after I injured him.”

“....No, I don’t think you mentioned that.” A shadow crossed his face, and Ser Cullen grumbled, “The more I learn about that man, the more I’m glad he’s dead.”

Velania grunted in agreement, her glowing hands speaking her opinion more than words could. “Thoughts on his Tranquil Solution?”

“I never liked it. Looking back, it speaks volumes that even Meredith wasn’t in support of it.”

“Yet she had a Tranquil secretary.”

Ser Cullen visibly stiffened. Velania fixed her gaze upon him and raised an eyebrow. He looked her in the eye, shifted his weight to one side, and said, “Yes. She did.”

“And did you ever think to question this?”

“I….I did not.”

She nodded. “Final question,” she said, stopping before him, and she waited until he thickly swallowed to quietly finish, “Did you know how terrified we were of Meredith, and how helpless we felt under her rule?”

He hesitated. “There were signs for a long time, but I was too blind to see them for what they were until after you’d left. Others besides you, from both sides, came to me for aid, only to have me dismiss them. Then Anders attacked, and Meredith proved how insane she really was. She had no reason to call for the Circle’s annulment that day, even if she had already sent for permission to do so.” Velania’s eyes flashed, and he explained bitterly, “Yes, that happened as well. I was given the absolute pleasure of overhearing Ser Karras bragging about it to the Champion over a week after she had mailed the request, and when I confronted her about it, she told me that everything the Order did was necessary, including everything she hid from me, as if it could justify-”

He broke off to shake his head, and Velania’s burning glare melted a spot in the snow. Her magic fizzled and popped around them before she whipped out a flame to fidget with.

“Velania.” Her attention went back to his face, and the flame froze mid-air. He paused, suddenly seeming unsure, before continuing, “I would like to say, as I have before, that I would not blame you if you never forgave me. I don’t expect anything as a result of this conversation.”

She blinked, stepping close enough that she could see her little floating flames reflected in his amber eyes as she gazed up at him. He looked back, and to her surprise, she now saw more of the eager-to-please 19 year-old boy than she’d seen since the Blight.

But he wasn’t 19 anymore. No, he’d been through the Void and back, changed who he was entirely (understandably, all things considered, even if it was for the worst), and yet still came out with a good head back on his shoulders. It would seem that, as much as Velania had changed over the past 4 years, he had changed, too.

“Good.”

Ser Cullen blinked. “Good?”

Velania nodded. “Good.”

With a wary expression, he asked, “What….what does that mean?”

She tried her best to suppress her smirk. Changes aside, he had a right to be nervous around her. “It means, Commander,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “that I don’t forgive you, but I accept your apology and commend your growth.”

“....you do?”

She did. Still wanted to smack him upside the head, but-

“Mrph.”

Sachi appeared out of nowhere with one of Velania’s bags, holding it between her and Ser Cullen. She raised an eyebrow but accepted it. Inside the bag were several papers, and upon a quick inspection, Velania found that they were many of her more argumentative notes.

(Yes, she had an entire bag of them; it was a lot more difficult for someone could tell her to shut up when she started pulling out the receipts. Is it really a surprise?)

Papers could be rolled up. Velania wasn’t as eager to punch an idiot as she used to be, but papers?

“Correction: I accept your apology with a small….” she said, her hand curling around one paper that already had a ribbon tied around it, “Comment, let’s call it.”

Then she whacked his forehead.

“Took you long enough!”

Ser Cullen blinked in surprise, his lips slightly parting as she put her hands on her hips, but she wasn’t done.

“For all of your cleverness, you can be really thick sometimes, you know that?”

“I-um-“

She whacked him again.

“So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to, Commander,” said a third voice. Velania whirled around to see one of the men that helped run soldier drills standing with his arms crossed. What was his name again?

Knight-Captain Rylen , the demons supplied. Templar. Run.

Velania had scooped up her bag and made Sachi and herself invisible in the blink of an eye. In another blink, they were 30 feet away, barrier spells active, and hidden behind a boulder. Cold stone pressing against her back, Velania took a deep breath and contemplated summoning her whip. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look; did he have a weapon? Were there others?

“Velania!” Ser Cullen called. “You don’t have to run! He’s alright!”

She and Ser Cullen’s definitions of ‘alright’ had very rarely lined up.

Quieter, she heard Ser Rylen say, “ That’s Velania? As in, the Velania?”

“Maker’s breath, Rylen, I’ve only ever mentioned the one.”

How many people had he blabbed about her to?

Ser Rylen hmm-ed. “You make her seem taller.”

I’m not even that short? Velania peeked out from behind the boulder, and she felt Sachi’s neck fluff brushing against the top of her head. Barely illuminated by the moonlight without her floating flames, Ser Cullen and Ser Rylen stood looking around. Ser Cullen was looking more in her general direction; she could hear him better.

“Thank the Maker you didn’t bring any weapons,” he said. “She gets skittish.”

“I think I got that, Commander.” Quieter, so that Velania had to strain to hear him, Ser Rylen muttered, “...ran faster than a buttered cheese wheel in the Ostwick races.”

….. Excuse me?

Before Velania could talk herself out of it, she wrote in fire above them, ‘Faster than a what in the what? ’

“In Ostwick,” Ser Rylen loudly supplied, “they have races where they butter up a bunch of cheese wheels and roll them through the streets.”

She changed the fire to express her exact thoughts: ‘....That sounds fake.’

“I assure you, miss, it most certainly is not.”

Velania let herself consider this, and the mental image of such events threatened to make her break out into giggles. Southerners were so strange.

Sachi shifted, starting to creep out. She tried to hiss at him to come back, but he merely licked her face and tip-toed as quietly as a giant hart could toward the others. Well, he tip-toed until he could plop his big head on top of Ser Cullen’s, and then, perhaps in case any present were completely blind, he loudly announced his presence.

“.....Well, aren’t you a great beast,” Ser Rylen said, smiling amusedly as Ser Cullen wore an unimpressed expression.

“Brau!” Sachi left the noodle pillow to sniff at Ser Rylen, circling and circling him. Ser Rylen reached out a hand and, when it was clear Sachi wasn’t going to bite him, started scratching under his chin. Sachi gave a pleased little Brrrp! before licking up his face. Then, Sachi turned to face Velania, his message very clear: ‘Come on! He’s fine!’ He’d never given her any reason to doubt his judgement before. Dammit, I have to go out there, don’t I?

She had one hand resting on the boulder’s back side as she scooted her bag closer to the boulder, glowing orange fingers anxiously tip-tapping stone. There was a shadow in front of her face, and then something was touching her hand. She made more light to see by-

It was the biggest, fuzziest moth Velania had ever seen.

She shrieked. Her hand ignited as it flailed. She lost her footing and fell onto the snow. There were bootsteps.

“What happened?” Ser Cullen said. “Are you alright?”

Velania nodded, even as she pressed a hand to her racing heart. She conjured up a small flame and gasped, “There was a moth, but I think I killed-“

The moth flew around the flames.

“-iTISNOTDEADSACHIAYÚDAME-“

Sachi, Velania’s savior, her long-time companion and favorite creature in the world, bit that little flying bitch in two, one half falling to the ground, where hooves stomped it into the snow, and the other half being spit out by said savior to Maker-knows-where. Once the danger was gone, he nuzzled her forehead before moving to scrape his tongue on some tree bark. She was safe. She was alright.

“You’re scared of moths,” Ser Cullen quietly said, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Velania pushed herself up to a sitting position and pointed an irritated finger at him. “Shut up.”

“I have seen you singlehandedly take down ogres and over a dozen Qunari, and you’re scared of moths .”

“I said shut up!” Velania’s eyes drifted to Ser Rylen, who was looking between her, Sachi, and Ser Cullen with a bemused yet somehow amused smile. His eyes found hers, and she coolly said, “Hi. I’m Velania. Nice to meet you.”

“And I you,” he said, bowing, “I’m Knight-Captain Rylen. I apologize for interrupting, but I couldn’t help but notice that our dearest Commander had been sneaking out every night a week or so ago.”

He shot Ser Cullen a teasing glance, looking like a man that’d just gotten some dirt on his good friend. He likely thinks the worst, especially with how I’m dressed.

Getting up, she said, “Well, just to be very clear, we-“ she pointed to herself and Ser Cullen “-are not sleeping together.”

Ser Cullen gave her the most bewildered look and opened his mouth, but she beat him to it:

“I dare you to look me in the eye and say that that isn’t what this looks like.”

Ser Cullen hesitated…..and then closed his mouth. The tips of his ears started to turn red as he fixed his gaze at the snow.

Ser Rylen gave a little nod. “I appreciate the clarification, Miss,” he said casually, as if his use of ‘Miss’ rather than ‘mage’  hadn’t just gained 10 Velania Approval Points. It was the little things. Then he said, with an almost stunning lack of subtlety, “Were you, by any chance, the Antivan mage baby that killed 7 people?”

Velania froze and suppressed a sigh. She had really hoped she’d escaped that.

“I only ask because you killed my uncle on my mother’s side,” Ser Rylen continued nonchalantly. Velania, internally screaming, wondered if the Maker would listen to her prayers for once and make her disappear. She silently grimaced, and Ser Rylen caught on to her guilt. “Not that anyone was upset! Apparently he was all roses and kind words until he and my aunt married, and then he became an abusive asshole. My aunt has a ‘good riddance’ banquet, her words, to celebrate it every year.”

Oh. That was...better? Perhaps? Velania’s stomach still didn’t like this conversational turn.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Ser Cullen said incredulously, and he looked between the two of them with his mouth agape. “Velania, you….you what? ”

He didn’t know? Oh, it’s because he came to the Circle after Sofia told everyone. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ser Rylen looked to her and asked, “May I? I’ve heard the story many times from my aunt’s guests that witnessed it, though you’re welcome to add or correct anything.” She crossed her arms but nodded, and he turned to Ser Cullen. “One day in Antiva City’s marketplace, there was this sudden explosion from a nearby alleyway. The closest walls were scorched black, and flames pushed into the square and lit up two market stalls, killing the attendants and two customers. When the smoke cleared, a group of off-duty Templars rushed to the alleyway to find the charred remains of three children towering over what looked to be a little potato sack. They were about to leave when the little potato sack coughed. Wearing the sack was a half-starved but alive toddler. Since she was so young, the Templars weren’t comfortable killing her, and the Circle took her in.”

There was a bit more to the end than that. Velania tapped her fingers on her arm and said, “Actually, as dramatic as you’ve already made it sound, I’ve heard rumors that if the Circle wasn’t willing to take me in, the Crows were going to steal me.”

“Wait,” Ser Cullen said, his face pale even as his brow furrowed. “Velania, this may be a stupid question, but remind me of your surname?”

“.....Commander, the Circle raised me, toilet trained me, everything; I have no surname.”

He blinked, frowning.

Wow. He really only ever paid attention to my magic, didn’t he? Velania let out a little exhale, then started backing away. “With that,” she quietly said, “I think I will take my leave.”

You should have stopped Ser Rylen from talking, Pride hissed. Now someone that apparently can’t stop talking about you knows that you’ve always been a murderer.

“As you wish, Miss,” Ser Rylen said, bowing slightly again. “Might I see you around sometime?”

She silently shook her head. Ser Cullen stared at the snow in thought. She and Sachi disappeared into the night, and when they found another place to settle down, Velania took the last of her latest batch of alertness potions. The demons hissed old comments from buried memories, voiced by kids too jealous to stay silent but too scared to speak to her face.

Murderer. Couldn’t even talk, but she’d already become a monster. Maybe she killed her parents, too.

When her Harrowing comes, be ready; she won’t make it.

She’s only that skilled because she’s the First Enchanter’s apprentice!

I’m glad I’m not her Voice. Can you imagi-

“Brauuuu.” Sachi nuzzled her hand, and the world went quiet. Velania gave him a kiss on his nose and started to scratch under his chin, snorting at the pleased rumble vibrating through his chest.

She was young, and alive, and free.

And if Ser Cullen was honestly going to be upset and think of her in a different light now, she’d be able to deal with it.

……………………...……………………………………………………

Cullen POV

The next day, Rylen requested a word with Cullen after the dawn training session. Upon being let into Cullen’s tent, Rylen simply said, “I like her.”

“....I beg your pardon?”

“Velania. She seems like the kind of woman that’s willing to call you out on your bullshit, and Maker knows you need some of that.”

Cullen side-eyed him. He would have retorted something, if Rylen’s words hadn’t been so true. “She was actually in the middle of that, believe it or not, when you interrupted,” he said. “How much of that did you hear, exactly?”

“Not very much,” Rylen said, shrugging. “I lost you for a long while, until I saw her fire in the distance. She had already hit you with her paper once by the time I was within earshot and could see you both clearly.” Cullen grunted in acknowledgement but said nothing more, choosing to avoid eye contact and tidy the papers on his makeshift desk instead. Rylen, on the other hand, paused before continuing, “So, if you aren’t sleeping with her, what are you doing with her?”

Cullen hesitated. He hadn’t told Rylen that Velania was his Voice yet, nor had he mentioned the lyrium withdrawal. Something had to give. “I, um...I get headaches, sometimes. Fairly often, actually. She knows spells that help.”

Rylen raised an eyebrow. “Her magic doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Cullen said firmly. “I did spend the better part of a decade in close proximity with her, you know; I’m used to her.”

“I see.” Rylen nodded. His lips turned up at the corners as he asked, “And, when you fell asleep and she came as a healer that one week, and when you spent the rest of said week sneaking out at night and being in a better mood the next morning, all of that was only because of her assistance in your ailments?”

“Pain relief can be a great boon to those of us that feel it chronically,” Cullen said, feeling his ears start to turn red. He never was good at keeping secrets.

“Nothing else?”

Cullen, having nothing more to tidy, intertwined his fingers as he sat down on a wooden stool. He made eye contact with Rylen and said, “....No. Should there be?” Aha! Now Rylen had to answer questions! How the tables had turned!

….

…..

Rylen wasn’t answering the question. He was merely staring Cullen down, eyebrow still raised, arms crossed, with a knowing look in his eyes. Sweat started to form on Cullen’s forehead. No! He could do this! Evasion! If he could withstand hours of Velania talking just to be irritating, he could withstand this! Willpower!

…….

…….

Rylen exhaled in frustration. Victory was within Cullen’s grasp. Then, Rylen’s eyes flashed as if he’d gotten an idea, and he said, “Fine, if you don’t want to talk about you and her, let’s just talk about her. When were you going to tell me how pretty she is?”

The noise that came out of Cullen’s throat at that was not human. “I-Wha-Where did that come from, Rylen?!”

Rylen shrugged nonchalantly. “My eyes , Cullen. We aren’t in Circles anymore; I’m allowed to admire a woman regardless of her magic, am I not?”

Cullen scrambled for words, eventually spitting out, “Well, yes, I-I suppose-“

“With her background, it makes sense that an unfamiliar Templar would put her on edge, so she’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Rylen thought aloud, tapping his lip.

This can’t be happening.

“Speaking of which, her shoulders are very well-defined; you can tell she’s not just magical strength. Not to mention, her eyes are quite striking. I felt like she could have torn me apart with them even as she introduced herself.”

Cullen didn’t know which one was worse: the fact that Rylen’s eyes had a slight heat in them as he spoke, or the fact that Cullen knew exactly what Rylen was talking about.

Rylen caught Cullen’s bewildered expression, and he shrugged. “What? A man likes to be dominated every once in a while, Cullen. It’s nice.”

Cullen’s cheeks burned. He didn’t want to take part in this conversation anymore. “ Please stop.”

Rylen laughed, “Alright, alright. I suppose it’d be bad if the Commander of the Inquisition melted into a puddle of Fereldan modesty. However, even you can not deny that the Maker did well when he made her.”

Cullen’s eyes were tempted to roll at that. “One, I’m well aware of Velania’s...physical attributes,” he said firmly as images of curved hips, mischievous grins, and teasing eyes crossing his mind. “Two, you’re making her sound like her primary use is sex, and if you try anything without her consent, it might be the last thing you ever do.”

Rylen raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “I was just trying to get a rise out of you; you know I wouldn’t. I’m surprised you’re this protective of her.”

Then it was Cullen’s turn to laugh, and his whole torso shook with the force of it. “Protective? Perhaps,” he said, “though I’d be more concerned with how long it’d take to sweep up your ashes once she was done with you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” What? Cullen was a man with complete faith in his Voice’s battle abilities.

Rylen gaped at him, then shook his head and smiled. “You truly are something else when you’re smug, you know that?” he said, and he swatted Cullen over the head with a finished report. Stepping toward the tent flaps, he continued, “Since you’re acting like a madman, maybe you ought to consider learning some Antivan! Make your Antivan Voice happy!

“Maybe, though-“ Wait. “Rylen, I never said she was my-“

“It’s obvious! Just don’t butt into her life because you missed her, alright?

And with that, Rylen was gone, leaving Cullen to breathe in the fresh mountain air sailing through the tent flap. He sighed and considered the idea of learning Antivan. He supposed he could ask Lady Josephine about where to start. Maybe I ought to learn the swear words first, he thought, so perhaps I’ll finally know what she’s been calling me all these years .

Cullen suddenly felt exhausted. He was still reeling from the story of how Velania came to the Circles. No family, no last name, just a child and her fire. An accident leaving 7 people dead, and he didn’t even want to unpack the idea of the Crows and the Chantry fighting over her. How was he supposed to know all this, exactly?

Furthermore, what did it say about the Circles that they raised her, and yet she was desperate to get out?

He knew even before lunch that he wouldn’t go to see Velania that night. It wasn’t that he thought less of her; accidentally killing seven paled in comparison to the fact that she’d intentionally killed dozens of Templars during her apostatehood. No, he merely needed time to process this information.

She’s always taken such great care with others’ safety around magic, and she always looked after the newest apprentices…..

Cullen sighed, feeling like an oblivious fool. He understood her a bit better now, even if he had more questions.

………………………………………………………………………

Desire POV

“Despair, how’s our prey doing on this lovely mortal night?” Desire strode over to Despair’s short and hooded form, resting their elbow on Despair’s head.

“Velania’s out of both sleeping and alertness potions and has determined that the Templar must hate her,” Despair rasped. “In contrast, he is attempting to work but getting distracted because he doesn’t know how he missed this and how didn’t he know and-

Despair then proceeded to give a ramble that lasted roughly 15 mortal-minutes, consisting of all of that puny mortal’s inner thoughts. Wow, could he overthink.

Desire tried to get things back to business. “You told his regular demons that I’d be hijacking him, right?”

“Yes. They wanted me to tell you to go fuck yourself. Pride had to step in. They were so very sad at being starved for a night. It was wonderful.” Despair finished by wiping away a tear, and they both heard the faint sound of a thump from the section of the Fade next door. The Templar must have fallen asleep at his desk again, ripe and ready for Desire’s hungry presence. “Have a good feeding time. I hope they both wake up feeling scarred for life.”

Not quite the goal, but hey, encouragement was encouragement.

Desire went to the little Templar first; after all, he was the one with a minor obsession with his Voice. Desire could be a bit gentler with him than they would be with Velania.

So, they created a nice little night with a clear sky and a moon bright enough to illuminate the woods outside Haven, and then they waited for their prey to fall into their claws disguised as Velania’s hands.

“Velania? What are you doing?”

Ah. Right on time. Desire sauntered up to him, being sure to sway Velania’s hips just enough to get his attention. After a quick voice illusion check, Desire crooned, “I was waiting for you , of course. However, I’m afraid I may have, well…” A tanned hand disappeared from Cullen’s view, going behind Velania’s back so Desire could covertly summon a half-empty bottle. When Desire put the now occupied hand back into his view, his eyes flitted between it and Velania’s face before he frowned.

“After tonight, I am never letting you have alcohol again,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Desire giggled and said, “I suppose that would be for the best. For the time being…..would you mind staying with me again? I would still want you to take off the armor, but it’d make me happy if you stayed…” Desire shifted Velania’s weight to one hip, looking Cullen up and down before glancing up at him under long lashes. His eyes never once left Velania’s, and Desire relished in how his heart sped up as they took a step closer to him.

Oh, he did admire her despite any internal conflict on the matter, from Velania’s dark eyes, to her curved hips, to her strong legs and round backside. Desire couldn’t really blame him; he had a type, one that happened to be powerful Antivan women that could kick his ass any day of the week. To top it all off, Desire knew the coward would never realize his admiration of her, let alone act on it, without some external prodding.

So, when Cullen sat down beside Desire, they had already planned how they was going to pounce. He wasn’t looking at Desire for a moment, and in that moment Desire tapped Velania’s drab long-sleeved shirt and black pants, replacing them with that lovely antaam-saar. A tanned hand touched Velania’s hair; the braid undid itself, becoming the mass Cullen had called, “a dark waterfall,” because he totally wasn’t attracted to her or anything. Desire rose to kneel facing their prey and tapped his shoulder. “Cullen, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

He turned back, and Desire lunged to claim his mouth. His eyes widened, and he froze. Desire nearly growled in frustration, dragging Velania’s blunt nails over his scalp. When he gasped, Desire smirked and licked into his mouth, eagerly exploring every inch they could find. Desire wanted him to remember this in the morning, regardless of whether Cullen eventually figured out that they were a demon. They wanted him to remember what it was like to have Velania’s mouth on his, hungry and demanding more as her fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck, until he couldn’t so much as look at Velania without blushing and feeling filthy.

Desire broke away, only just far enough to see Cullen’s face, and with a low tone, pleaded, “I need you.”

Cullen’s jaw hung open, panting. “I...um… I don’t think-“ He broke off as Desire dragged Velania’s fingertips down his chest, making him shudder. This poor man just oozed raw energy, with his heart pounding and brain completely blank. It had been years since he’s gotten this kind of action, and it showed in the power pouring into Desire. Absolutely delicious , every last drop.

Suddenly, he grabbed Desire’s hands to stop their movements just before they could reach his belt.

“I think we should stop,” he firmly said, and Desire nearly rolled their eyes.

“But you like this,” they crooned, staring into his amber eyes with open lust. “You don’t need to feel ashamed of it, Cullen. There’s nothing wrong with giving in to temptation and taking what you want. Taking me.”

Desire thrust Velania’s chest against his thin undershirt and gently guided his hands to Velania’s stomach and those hips he always seemed so fixated on. He inhaled sharply when his eyes landed on the antaam-saar, but when he looked back up, he only said, “Velania, where’s Sachi?”

They blanked for a moment. Sachi had been seemed irrelevant, left out of the equation entirely; he wasn’t supposed to notice that. Desire recovered with a crooning “Why are you worried about a hart in a time like this?” before leaning forward to kiss him again. He shoved them away.

“Ow! Cullen! What are you doing?”

He scrambled to get to his feet. “I don’t know what you are,” he growled, “But you aren’t Velania. Get out.”

“What are you talking-?”

“I said, get. Out. ”

Desire looked up at him, standing there with a steely gaze and a disgusted sneer, and they sighed internally. They let the illusion spell drop, and as they floated into a standing stance, Desire grumbled, “It’s because I forgot the hart, isn’t it?”

The little Templar continued glaring and didn’t respond, merely turning on his heel and striding away. Desire didn’t miss how his hands were clenched into white balls.

It was easy to catch up with him, floating being far faster than walking. “Little Templar, I don’t like being ignored,” Desire said, laying on their side and facing him as they flew just as fast as he walked. He tried walking faster. Desire kept up. He tried jogging. Desire kept up. He tried a full sprint into the never-ending trees, but Desire. Kept. Up. Finally, they said, “You ought to remember who’s talking to you, you know,” and with a snap of their claws, Desire and Cullen were back in Kinloch Hold. Cullen’s face paled.

However, Desire had no torture plans for tonight.

“Don’t worry, little Templar. I just wanted to tell you something. Inform you, if you will.” Desire gestured with a hand to their surroundings. “This is where I was created. You seem to forget that myself, Pride, and the others wouldn’t exist without Velania’s emotions calling us into being first. Everything we are, we get from her.”

“She is nothing like you.”

“She is exactly like us!” Desire snapped, and in a burst of energy that they’d probably be scolded for later, they continued, “In case you haven’t noticed, little Templar, Velania is proud and greedy and angry and sad and scared!” Desire paused. “She is so, so very scared. Scared of being found out, scared of being alone, scared of losing everyone she has ever known. Oh, how she cried and cried when you abandoned her…” It momentarily looked at its claws, cleaning them. “Despair still has power from when you cast her aside in a matter of seconds. It’s a shame she didn’t learn then…..Well, no, it’s a shame for her; we get to sit back and watch as she sets herself up to fall down, down, down and never come out.” Desire’s hand jerkily moved down through the air to illustrate the point. “Voices you may be, but you don’t know half of what she’s done.”

“I know plenty.”

Desire grinned. No, you don’t. If you did, you’d never want to see her again. “I think we’re done here. Tell your regulars I said thank you for letting me butt in tonight.”

With another snap of claws, the little, puny, impossibly determined Templar was gone, sent off to the section of the Fade he was normally tormented in, and if Desire listened very closely, they could hear his screams.

Well, time to go see Velania.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

In hindsight, Desire should have known that trying to seduce Velania as Ser Cullen would only end in disaster. However, Desire was a demon, and demons are not known to have the most infallible logic. Therefore, the proceedings that happened were...interesting to say the least.

First, Desire started with a nice, spacious bedroom and the disguise of a shirtless Cullen. Jumping from a female to male form was very interesting; with these arms, Desire nearly felt like they needed to be bench-pressing something.

“What the fuck did you want? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Mr. Model Fereldan?”

Ah, Velania was here.

Desire moved Cullen’s legs to stride over to her. “Velania,” they said breathlessly. Grabbing her hands and kissing them, they used amber eyes and long lashes to look up at Velania. She didn’t move, eyes wide as she blinked in shock. Under her skin, her blood thrummed just a little bit quicker. Cullen’s lips smirked at her, and something hot definitely flashed behind her eyes.

For all that Velania mocked him and didn’t like him as a person, there was no denying that her body found him very agreeable.

“Um,” Velania said sternly, “Whatever you think is happening, isn’t. So stop it before I give you the Ser Alrik treatment.” Then she ripped her hands away and moved toward the door. Cullen’s body raced to get between her and the door.

“Velania.”

“That is my name, Commander. Good to see you know it.”

Desire grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against Cullen’s abs. She gasped, blinking again at the eyeful of pectoral muscles in her line of sight, before Desire tilted her face up with a strong, calloused finger. Desire declared, “I think we’ve both been rather uptight lately. I need to relax, and you need to be fucked.”

“ Excuse me?! ”

“It’s true and you know it.” That was a blatant lie. Velania’s shocked and almost indignant face proved that well enough. Desire should have known to stop there, but they didn’t. Instead, they continued, “You ought to be fucked, and fucked often, and by someone who knows how.”

Again, Velania ripped herself away, squawking, “‘By someone who knows-‘“ She broke off, and then she started giggling! “Is that someone supposed to be you?” She said. Desire couldn’t do anything more but stand there in shock. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!

But alas, for it was happening. Velania was giggling, then laughing, then full-on howling.

The bitch laughed so hard, in fact, that she woke herself up . Her form disappeared from the Fade, and Desire was dropped into the scene of their fellow demons having their own giggle-fest. Being laughed out of a dream was a new one; they’d never hear the end of it.

……………………………………………………………………

Cullen POV

Cullen’s day started like any other: waking up with the feeling of claws on his skin, then finishing whatever report he’d been working on. His dreams had been a blur of demons, and the little that he did remember, he was actively trying to suppress.

Then Velania walked by the dawn training session, and Cullen’s heart stopped.

Sweet Maker, I dreamt about her. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he very pointedly focused wholly on the troops. It was a demon! Not her! Just a demon! It was very obviously a demon, now that he was awake to think about it; disregard for Sachi aside, he should have known based off of 1) the fact that Velania had never called him by his first name alone a single day in her life and 2) the demon had forgotten the scars on Velania’s stomach. Nothing like that would ever happen between them. And yet…

Demondemondemondemondemondemondemon it was just a demon. Need to focus on something else.

“Good block, Jim!”

I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. I am 30 years old. I am a very busy man that does not have inappropriate thoughts about his Voice, no matter how stunning or powerful or...or brilliant or generally attractive I may find her………….Shit.

“The Herald has returned!”

Thank the Maker.

The call, initially taken up by one of the soldiers, spread to the gates, and then farther into Haven. Messere Lavellan and his companions sat atop their Fereldan Forders, and to his surprise, they’d brought with them two newcomers, an elven girl with a bow strapped to her back and a woman with dark skin and a fashion sense that left no doubts about her Orlesian residence. The latter woman also had magic surrounding her, in a weaker and colder manner than Velania did. Sure, she was strong, impressively so…..but Velania was better.

Since the soldiers were distracted with the Herald’s presence, Cullen strode over as the horses passed, and he bowed. “Welcome back, Herald. We weren’t expecting you for another day or so.”

Messere Lavellan had bags under his eyes large enough to hold a mabari, but he still managed to make his smile reach his eyes as he called, “Cassandra’s worked herself into a tizzy over what happened. Do you think you’d be able to hold a meeting at lunchtime? I’ll explain everything then.”

“As you wish.”

And until that meeting at lunch, Cullen was able to keep his mind occupied with speculation about what could have possibly transpired in Val Royeaux.

………………………………..

“So, long story short,” Cassandra growled, “Lord Seeker Lucius seems to have lost his damn mind, Grand Enchanter Fiona has expressly asked for our help, and we still aren’t any closer to closing the Breach.”

Cullen nodded. He stood with his back to the door, having been the last one to enter, and he couldn’t help but be glad for it when Cassandra, with her hair sticking up in several directions and her eyes glaring at anyone that addressed her, was on the other side of the table. Seriously, she looked ready to snap at any moment, even as Fellassan said, “On the bright side, we now have the resources made available to us by the connections of Madame de Fer and Sera, and the rebel mages seem non hostile. I can leave in a week for the Storm Coast and see about recruiting the Bull’s Chargers, and on the way back we’ll pick up Warden Blackwall and stop by Redcliffe. If we use fresh mounts, we can get everywhere in a matter of weeks. Does that sound agreeable to everyone?”

Suddenly, a voice outside said, “And if they’re having a meeting, just knock and tell them that you need a book from in there!” It sounded like Miss Minaeve, if Cullen remembered her name correctly, and sure enough, there was a knock at the door not 5 seconds after she finished speaking.

Cullen stepped toward the door and opened it to see Velania’s dreaded Tranquility disguise looking back at him. She bowed and flatly said, “I need a book from this room.”

He moved to let her in and close the door behind her, too surprised to say anything. Since when did she help Minaeve with research? Not that he was complaining, of course, not when she was likely one of the best experimental minds of their generation, but he kept being unaware of things and feeling like a lousy Voice because of it.

“What, not even going to say hi?” The Herald said, and when Velania whirled around from her position next to the bookshelves, he darted to hug her. She let out a little ‘oof’ as she received him with a smile, Tranquility mark gone. Cullen brushed off the little drop of jealousy that accompanied the pulse of a rejuvenation spell going through his hands as she lightly squeezed. The torches burned a little brighter.

She laughed, “You’re back! Did you say hi to Sachi yet?”

“Yes, and he is now 3 apples heavier.”

“Good.”

They pulled away, and Velania turned back to the bookshelf. Unfortunately, many of the books didn’t have their names on their spines but rather their front covers, so she had to pull them out to find what she was looking for. Messere Lavellan whispered something to her, and she replied with a shake of her head and an also hushed, “No, not tonight. You need to rest.”

He considered this, then nodded and went back to his previous position at the table. This left Cullen being the closest to Velania. “Shall we continue?”

“Actually,” Sister Leliana cut in, wearing the same calm yet sly expression she’d had when she cornered Cullen in Kirkwall and weaseled he and Velania’s connection out of him, “Miss Velania, you’ve known our dearest Commander the longest.” What was she up to? “How would you describe his character, so that his more recent acquaintances might get to know him better?”

Cullen tried shooting Sister Leliana a confused look of urgency, but she was pointedly staring Velania down. He glanced at Velania to see her eyes looking at him with hesitance, and he gave a little shake of his head in an attempt to say Please don’t expose me like this, you have so much dirt on me, and-

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Permission granted.”

Shit. The torches shed sparks for a second, and a dangerous light entered Velania’s eyes as she declared, “When I met him, I found him to be a goody-two-shoes without a single dishonest bone in his body but with the social skills of druffalo, and he has not changed a bit in those regards.”

Gee, thanks. Cullen pointedly turned away from her gaze and looked at the War Table. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his expressions.

“He’s an absolute workaholic and a perfectionist that will keel over before he goes against a schedule, and this goes to such a point that he likely needs reminding to sleep and eat sometimes.”

…….Cullen had no comment.

“If you do something to irritate him, he’ll let you know about it, though any disagreements could surely be smoothed over by bringing a mabari into his immediate vicinity.” She paused, then thoughtfully added, “Or some mashed potatoes. He tends to be very similar to my Voice in taste-”

Imagine that!

“-and my Voice and I once had a full-blown argument about the lack of seasonings that Southerners put in their mashed potatoes. But I digress.”

Why’d she have to say that? Cullen could feel the others’ eyes on him. They’d never let go of this. The next time someone made mashed potatoes, jokes would be made. Andraste preserve me, at least Varric isn’t in the room.

Cullen thought she’d be done, but no, Velania had a bit more to say. “He’s more stubborn than a mule and hates being ignored; he dislikes having his personal life talked about by others and thus is likely considering giving all of you the silent treatment for letting me drag him like this;-”

Yes, yes he was.

“-and if you had gone to Kirkwall and brought back anyone else to be your Commander, you would have been a fool.”

That made Cullen look at her, only to find her solemnly looking back. She really did keep finding ways to surprise him.

“He’s clever and is used to thinking on the spot and in dire situations, and I’ve yet to see him half-ass anything, for lack of a better phrase. However,” Her dark brown eyes got that wonderful yet terrible glint of mischief in them again, and she teasingly finished, “I wouldn’t suggest putting him in charge of any investigations. He tends to not be very good at solving those.”

That was it. Cullen wasn’t going to take that lying down! “Actually, it’s only where you were involved that I didn’t solve investigations.”

“Oh?” Velania crossed her arms, and a smirk gently played upon her lips, sending a little shock down Cullen’s spine. “But you have no proof I was involved in anything.”

Yes, I do, in the farthest reaches of my soul.

Cullen huffed, “If the Ice Jester wasn’t you, then who was it?”

She stepped closer to him and said, “Now, why would I snitch on someone that knocked you on your ass, what, 2, 3 times?”

Aha! “I never told anyone when I was targeted.”

“You were walking funny,” said her lips, while her eyes flashed ever so slightly. “And as I’ve said before, I am a fire mage.”

“Yet you ice skate and use ice to make more solid materials. Or is that something that changed while you were away?” Cullen stepped closer to her, away from the others, and mirrored her stance. Were the others still listening? Were they even there? Cullen couldn’t have told you; his focus lay solely with this woman, Velania, his Voice, who he could spend all day bickering with and not feel like a single moment of it was wasted time.

(Little did he know, the others were watching with varying amounts of enthusiasm, and when Cassandra opened her mouth to complain about the digression, Fellassan clamped his hand over her lips and cheerfully hissed, “Cassandra, I have not slept more than three hours in the past two days; let me have this entertainment.”)

Velania raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you want to talk about things that changed while I was away?” She reached up to point at his hair. “Because I’m still waiting on an explanation.”

He gently swatted her hand away. “I like it this way, you know.”

“Evidently.”

She seemingly didn’t have anything to add, and Cullen found himself less than a foot away from her, so he turned to the bookshelf. “I’m sure Sister Leliana now has all the information she’d ever want about me. What book did you need? Perhaps you can look on the lower shelves while I search the higher-”

She’d stepped on his foot before he’d even fully turned away, and he wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

As he bent down slightly to rub at his foot, he was roughly at her height, and he could look her dead in the eye and say, “You, Velania, are horrible.”

“And you, Ser Cullen, are an ass.” She met his gaze with her own, brown versus amber with mere inches in between, and Cullen noticed another thing that the Desire demon had failed to include: he and Velania’s relationship wasn’t one-sided. It was this, both of them looking the other in the eye and saying, ‘No, you move.’; it was this heated tension of equals, of the same challenger endlessly approaching; and it was her magic wrapping around him, making every hair on the back of his neck stand straight up as his heart raced, yet he was not afraid. On the contrary; there was no place he’d rather be, and nothing he’d rather be doing. Cullen’s face split into a grin, and she started, “Why are you-”

And then there was a knock at the door. Velania jumped away as though burned, and Cullen rushed to answer it. It was Minaeve again, and with her hands on her hips, she sternly said, “Commander. My Tranquil girl came in here to retrieve a book. Surely it does not take ten minutes to do so.”

“Uh-” Cullen snuck a glance at Velania. She was looking through the covers again, and when she turned around, she had a book held firmly in her hands. The Tranquility mark was back on her head, and her expression offered no evidence that their interrupted conversation had even happened.

She slipped beside him and simply said, “The spines of the books were not labelled. I had to pull out each one to see the cover.”

Mineave sighed, “Alright, well, come on. The day is still young, and we have a lot to do.” She walked away in the direction of Josephine’s office, leaving Velania to bow before closing the door. When Velania closed the door, however, she glanced up at Cullen with an unreadable expression, and her lips twitched ever so slightly.

As the door clicked shut, Cullen’s thoughts clicked into place, and he finally got it.

He’d known for a while that he wanted Velania at his side, through thick and thin, but he’d just chalked it up to them being Voices and it being inevitable anyways.

But that wasn’t quite it, was it?

Things were different during Cullen’s infatuation with Sofia Amell; he didn’t know how to act around her, so he fled more often than not and babbled his way through poor excuses for conversations. That’d never been a part of his relationship with Velania. No, them two together were a hot mess of sharp tongues and words, of two scared young adults yelling at each other amidst a broken Circle, and of begrudgingly having each other’s backs when a greater evil came knocking. They were both headstrong, their familiarity bringing out a lack of a filter even when others were around. Their problems never seemed to end, from their views to their history to their unknown future.

And yet, the world around Cullen could be made into an angry inferno, and he’d step closer to Velania with the knowledge that she’d roll her eyes and grumble even as she shaped a path out and grabbed his wrist to drag him along.