Chapter One

"Inquisitor?"

Thana glances up from the papers scattered across her desk. She spies the commander and a familiar kind of lightness swells in her throat. She leans back in her chair, and asks, "Do I have to tell you again?"

Caught off his guard, Cullen clears his throat. "Have I done something wrong?"

The elf rises gracefully, shuffling a few papers into place as she does so. "You called me 'Inquisitor.'"

"That is your title," Cullen replies, nervously. He shifts his weight, awkwardly, as though unsure of how to handle himself. He keeps his eyes trained on the desk, avoiding looking at places like the empty bathtub, the wardrobe, or her bed.

She watches him through her bangs, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "That title is—well, it's almost as bad as 'Worship.' I asked you to call me Thana."

Cullen rewards her with a deep flush, the kind that makes her want to snicker in triumph. She refrains, the picture of professionalism. The commander recovers, and says, "My apologies, Inqui—err—." He coughs again.

"You're fine, Cullen," she says reassuringly, stepping around her desk and gesturing to the balcony. She steps out into the brisk air, the mountain wind tossing the edges of her hair around her freckled face. "What can I do for you?"

The commander tries not to stare as he follows her outside. "I'm sorry to bother you, but your ambassador and spymaster have concerns."

Thana faces Cullen, leaning back against the railing. She trains her expression into neutrality and asks, innocently, "Did they elect you to speak on their behalf?"

He glances up to meet her gaze, his honeyed brown eyes meeting her own green ones. Something seems to spark in the air, something that makes Thana's blood grow warm. To her surprise, Cullen does not look away.

"I volunteered," he says, his voice gone gravely.

"What are their concerns?" she asks, perhaps too quickly, breaking their gaze and turning to face the mountains. She cares for the commander but knows of his troubles and his devotion to his duties. She dares not trouble him more with her advancements.

Cullen appears in her peripheral vision, leaning against the thick stone railing, with a respectable yard between them. "Josephine is dealing with a few banns around Redcliffe, concerned over the events from last week. They think the Breach has opened again. She wants you to give a statement—in writing is fine, she says—to reassure them. Leliana's scouts have reports of the landing site. The impact was minimal, though it seems to have affected the vegetation. She says you'll want to see for yourself. I'm sure they can tell you more, individually."

Thana listens patiently. When Cullen finishes, she nods, shoves off the railing, and heads back in to her desk. "I'll write Josephine her statement. Tell Leliana that I'll arrange a visit to the site."

"Of course," Cullen says, following her. He stops a distance from her desk, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Anything else?"

She picks up a piece of paper off her desk—a written patient observation, by Solas, of his time spent with Skyhold's newest and most unusual resident. "Have you spoken with the fallen girl?"

"Have you?" Cullen replies, genuinely surprised. His concern is evident in his expression. "Tell me you didn't go alone. We've no measure of her power, or what she's capable of, if she's even human."

"Solas was there," Thana assures him firmly. She pauses for a moment, and then admits, "I appreciate your concern."

She is surprised when Cullen approaches closer. He places a hand on her desk. "Without you, there is no Inquisition," he says, with a passion that surprises her further. "I know you've just been elected, so to speak, but you've no idea how morale has spiked, how hopeful the soldiers are."

"I inspire a lot in people?" she says, half-asking, half-stating a fact. It is still unusual for her. A lifetime ago, when she was a Dalish scout and hunter, she inspired nothing except gratitude for another meal. To have an entire army look up to her is foreign. To have the fate of Thedas on her shoulders is unexpected and at times, frightening.

Cullen's voice breaks her from her thoughts. She shakes her head to clear it and says, "Say again? Sorry."

The commander flushes again, looks away, and stammers. "I only said…that you are—err—very inspiring. That's all."

She narrows her eyes and smiles a bit playfully. "Hiding something, commander?" she asks, fighting to keep her voice even. At times his shy awkwardness had her melting inside.

He looks alarmed for a moment before recovering his composure. He meets her gaze and again, something sparks. "From you? I would never."

She swallows back her thoughts and is the first to look away. "That's…good. If I can't trust my advisors, who can I trust?"

Something in her tone or her words seems to wound him. There is sadness in his own voice that makes her heart ache. "Your advisor. Yes."

"Cullen."

"I should be going," he says abruptly, holding up his hand to beg for her silence. He does not meet her pleading eyes. "If you will please excuse me, I'm sure the army scouts have a report waiting."

Thana straightens, and gestures towards the exit. "Of course."

The commander bows, stiffly, and exits quickly.

In her quarters, Thana bangs her fist on her desk in frustration, throwing herself into her chair and sighing sharply. How infuriating her position, to be torn constantly between her professional duty as head of the Inquisition and her personal desires. She shuffles through her papers, until she finds her sketchbook, and flips open to the middle. The beginning pages are old, from when she was but a simple Dalish: sketches of leaves, plants, animals. Useful things.

Towards the middle, the sketches change. She begins to experiment with hands, mouths, faces. The same hands, those stubborn lips, the planes and angles of his face. She opens to her most recent sketch, capturing a moment when she caught him laughing. The crinkle around his eyes, and the light within them fascinates her. Now matter how she tries she cannot seem to properly capture him.

With a sigh, she finds her charcoal, and tries again.

In the hall outside her quarters, Cullen bangs his fist against the wall and sighs sharply. He never says the right thing. It is her fault for being so—no, no, he cannot fault her for being as lovely as she is. He recalls, as he often does, the attack on Haven. He remembers it not as the night he lost good soldiers, but as the night he almost lost her.

"Inquisitor," he says aloud to himself. "…Thana."

With a sigh, he gathers himself, and returns to work.

The sun moves not half a mark across the sky when there is another knock at her door. Thana glances up, putting the finishing touches on her official writ for Josephine. She expects to see the ambassador herself, or one of her inner circle. They are the only ones, save a few select servants, to have a habit of bothering her when she is in her quarters.

Instead, she is surprised to see a stranger—no, not a complete stranger: the girl who fell from the sky.

At first the Inquisitor does not recognize her. The girl—Lunete, wasn't that her name? —has clearly refreshed. Perhaps it is the open and airy lighting of Thana's quarters, but Lunete seems more human and less like the waking dead. Her thick red hair has been washed and pinned up back from her face, the rest falling in damp waves down her shoulder blades. Her skin is far less pale and more freckled than Thana remembers. She wears a dress of blue and gold that fits her well enough in most places, though it seems to be loose around her shoulders and waist. She stands with her back ramrod straight, her hands tightly in front of her, as though she is nervous.

Two soldiers flank Lunete, and salute Thana with one arm across their chests when she rises to her feet.

"Hello," Thana greets, crossing around to the front of her desk and giving the soldiers a nod. "I'll take it from here, gentlemen."

The soldiers exchange glances, as though daring the other to speak. Finally, one soldier with a nose that clearly been broke once or twice speaks up, "Pardon me, Worship, but Commander Cullen gave us orders—!"

The other soldier pipes up. "Very strict and specific orders!"

"We're not to leave you alone. Not until the mystery surrounding our—err—visitor is solved," the first soldier finishes firmly. They salute her again and step back, taking positions at the top of the stairs leading up to the main chamber of Thana's quarters.

With a sigh, Thana gives Lunete a kind look and gestures to the white couch. "Would you care to sit? I can send for drinks."

Stiffly, Lunete shakes her head at the mention of sustenance. "No, thank you. I've had enough food forced on me, and I'm not even hungry. Your servants are very…persuasive."

The Inquisitor laughs and lowers herself onto the couch. "They were under instruction from Solas, the mage who oversaw your recovery. His orders are taken seriously. Please, sit."

Lunete eyes the seat yet remains standing. "You are very trusting," she says flatly, and Thana realizes that she has an accent, albeit a slight one. It takes her a moment to recognize it for what it is: Tevinter. "Since I awoke…I understand I am not a welcome guest. I seem to be the herald of bad news."

Unable to resist a good chuckle at the poor girl's choice of words, Thana readily admits, "Commander Cullen often slaps my wrist for being too quick to drop my guard. Among my clan, trust was necessary. We depended on one another for survival. It breeds a particular kind of loyalty between your clan members. When I was sent to the Conclave—when I woke up with the Mark, I was suddenly the untrustworthiest person in Thedas. I hated it."

Lunete glances out the window, her lips a tight and thin line. "You have their trust now."

"You might earn it as well," says the elf, leaning back against the cushions and regarding her visitor. "What do you remember?"

The girl sighs and turns listlessly away, folding her arms beneath her chest. "Bits and pieces, fragments of memory. Sometimes I remember voices, but I don't know who they belong to."

"I've read the report from Solas," Thana says softly. "Last time you were awake was the Black Age? In Tevinter?"

Lunete shrugs and speaks distantly, staring off into the mountains without actually seeing them. "I remember a castle—a grand tower, surrounded by forests. I lived there. I remember…receiving news of the war. It was cold, in that tower, and there wasn't another village in eyesight. I—that is all I can recall. That, and my name."

Rising from the couch, Thana crosses to one of her bookshelves, scanning through the titles. While she has barely any time to read, there is one volume she knows she possesses. "Perhaps—yes, here we are. A Thedosian History, by…some Chantry sister. I admit that I haven't read it—Vivienne recommended it—but it might help you 'catch up,' so to speak."

She extends the book to Lunete, who takes it gingerly and flips it open, scanning the table of contents. "Thank you," she says with a sigh. "It is overwhelming, to have missed so much." Her brow furrows. "I—I can't read half of it."

Surprised, Thana crosses to her and glances over her shoulder. "You speak the common tongue. Can you read?"

"I…I thought I could. I can make out certain words. It is not…what I am used to reading, I don't think," Lunete says slowly, tracing a sentence with her finger and puzzling through it. "The Rise of the…the…Qunari? What on earth is that, some kind of hostile plant?"

Immediately Thana laughs, though she quickly recovers. "I'm sorry—I'm not laughing at you—I wouldn't say that around the Iron Bull, or any qunari, for that matter. They might be offended."

The human girl's confusion does not lessen. She shoots the Inquisitor a glare. "I've never heard of such a creature. It sounds like foliage to me."

Recovered, Thana considers. "I suppose—the qunari didn't arrive on mainland Thedas until after you were 'asleep,' or whatever you were. You wouldn't know." She sees Lunete's frustration, and gives her a gentle smile. "Qunari are—well, they're very large, and they have horns, and grayish skin."

"Now they sound like demons," Lunete says with a shudder, growing a touch paler at the thought.

Thana shakes her head firmly. "They fight like demons, but they are not of the Fade. Right now, they are our allies, thanks to the Iron Bull. I will introduce you, later."

Her words seem to alleviate a touch of Lunete's anxiety. "I…suppose. It's distressing. So much has changed."

Placing an encouraging hand on her shoulder, Thana offers, "We ought to go see Solas. He has been working with my spymaster to solve the mystery of your arrival. Perhaps we can determine what sort of magic kept you alive."

Lunete shivers. "Something terrible. It was—magic has always been—nothing good comes from it," she says with passion, meeting Thana's gaze. "I want nothing more to do with magic."

A third voice interrupts them. "That is unfortunate."

The two women turn to see Solas standing near the guards at the top of the stairs. He gives a polite bow to the Inquisitor. "Pardon the interruption," he says, "I had hoped to catch you in private."

Thana asks honestly. "Is this about Lunete? She deserves to know any information we have."

Solas glances coolly at the Tevinter girl. "You might rethink that stance, shortly."

"What is it, Solas?" Thana presses, glancing at Lunete, who stares determinedly at the floor.

The bald elf crosses towards the pair. "When Lunete was brought to Skyhold, I noticed she was wearing a peculiar necklace. If you recall, she was bereft of any other clothing when the scouts found her. I took this necklace to study it, thinking that it had something to do with her unusual arrival."

Lunete's eyes grow wide. "My—you took a necklace? What did it look like?"

Solas extends his hand and opens it, palm up. In his hand lies a token on a leather cord. Both Thana and Lunete lean forward to examine the token.

Thana is the first to speak. "It's a bone. A tooth, or something."

"Not just any bone or tooth," Solas begins, but Lunete cuts him off.

"It was a gift," she insists. "He…he said it was from a dragon."

Solas shakes his head.

"This is the tooth of an archdemon. It is filled with taint. It practically drips with echoes of a long forgotten Blight," he reveals, looking hard at Lunete. "Chances are, you are tainted as well."

Lunete balks. "I am not. I feel fine."

Thana intervenes. "Wouldn't she have died?"

"Not if she was frozen in stasis. She may very well die soon, if the disease catches up with her," Solas says, his tone colder than Thana has ever heard it before. "There is another possibility. No one should be able to survive exposure to this level of taint. Your prisoner, Inquisitor, is either a Grey Warden or…"

The Inquisitor's face grows pale and she steps away from Lunete as though she were on fire. "Is that possible?"

Lunete looks nearly ready to cry. "Or what?"

Solas clasps his hands behind his back. "Call you guards, Inquisitor. Your new friend is either a Grey Warden…or a darkspawn."