This is the prologue for my story that has Jethann as Inquisitor- I mean, you probably figured, but I just wanted to elaborate a bit. Jethann's always been one of my favorite NPCs, and I wanted to expand his character beyond what we get in canon, since there is so little. Basically, his scene in The First Sacrifice is one snapshot of his life, and this story is about what becomes of him after the events of DA2. There will probably be a lot of anti-sex worker language, most specifically the word 'whore', because that's a term both Jethann and others use to refer to himself, so I want my readers to know that I do not condone such language at any point, including the contexts it is used in text.

The prologue will be quite a bit shorter than the other chapters. Hope you enjoy the fic.

All these noble people coming together for a noble purpose, and Jethann was their whore.

It wasn't a terrible fate, of course. He did feel a bit guilty for soiling the Temple of Sacred Ashes like this- but when he was told he'd be paid in sovereigns, not silvers, the offer was too tempting to say no. If someone's interests extending to fucking in a sacred area, it wasn't his place to judge.

When he was done with his work, he was told to leave, and as fast as possible. It wouldn't do, he was told, for the Chantry to find someone like him in the building. A condescending grin right after he'd had his hands clutching at Jethann, fingers clawing as he gasped his release. He'd seen it a thousand times.

So he'd put his clothes back on and left, rubbing the sovereigns together in his fingers to quench his annoyance. Ever since the Rose had laid him off, finding work had been getting harder and harder. He'd never expected he'd leave the Free Marches in the first place, but he'd spent too many months almost starving to do anything else.

He resisted the temptation to whistle as he walked through the hall, shirt only half buttoned. He didn't care in anyone saw him, really, but he supposed it would be smarter not to draw undue attention. Didn't want some Chantry nag telling him how he should live his life.

He stopped walking, eyes drawn to a door to the left of him. It was shaking, almost bursting open, green light glowing past the edges.

Don't do it, he told himself. Don't you dare go near that.

He couldn't help it. He crept toward the door, opening it slightly and peeking through. When he saw what was within, he thrust it open and rushed forward.

"Help!"

"What's going on here?" he said loudly, the sight of the terrified Divine filling his vision.

"Run while you can! Warn them!"

"Kill the elf."

Just like that, everything was changed.

When she saw him walk out of the Breach, Cassandra thought he looked more powerful than anyone she had ever seen. In that moment, she feared him.

When they found him, he was nearly dead. Cassandra thought she might kill him herself. To murder the Divine- to kill all the people at the Conclave- to break the world itself- she wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and get it done with.

She didn't because she was a Seeker and the Right Hand of the Divine. She didn't because a part of her wondered if the bruised and burned man she carried to the apostate mage could really have been behind all this. She didn't because of those few seconds where his blue eyes had opened and had filled with terror.

She would find out the cause behind the Divine's death one way or the other.