Standing in the Gallows courtyard now was a bit different than it used to be. He was no longer required to do so, being the new knight-commander, but old habits were hard to break. Cullen used to enjoy watching the recruits as they sparred, seeing the mages out for their daily exercise, smelling the scents of Solivitus' herb stand just a few feet away. But now as he began pacing the perimeter he couldn't help but notice the changes in his once comforting home.

The largest change was obvious, at least to him. The shadows on the ground from the towering bronze statues were gone, making the area brighter than he had ever imagined it could be. The massive structures had been destroyed in the recent battle, both a curse and a blessing. Cullen involuntarily brought a hand to his temple as he remembered seeing the suffering slave figures come to life, their larger guardians before them. The way the ground shook as they walked, the sound of bronze against steel. A faint haunting echo still lingered in his mind. That part of the battle did not make it into the official reports. Living statues? Surely they'd label him mad, no matter who backed up his story.

The corners of the courtyard were eerily vacant, the merchants that used to dwell there had either been killed or ran off when the fighting began. Enniel always had a smile for Cullen as he brought out his blades in the morning. Qilan, his partner, was less polite but still a familiar face behind the armor he sold. Both gone now, to places unknown. Their stalls had been removed only last week, forgotten merchandise not completely useless was placed in the templar armory.

The pillars and platforms, naked without their statues, rarely gave him pause. But every day since the Chantry was destroyed Cullen couldn't continue beyond the very center of the courtyard without stopping. A moment in time continued to replay in his mind, refusing to let him forget what happened that day.

I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad, but this is too far.

The look in her eyes when he had said this, the vibration of her sword as she pointed it towards his chest, these things he would not forget any time soon. The hissing sound each swing made as it cut through the air brought a familiar shiver down his spine. This memory always came back to him in a flash as he stood on top the darkened stone. Though her "body" had been long removed, the marble beneath was still scorched in black.

This is not what the Order stands for!

Cullen tried to remind Meredith of her duty before asking her to step down. She insisted on killing the Champion without cause, a decision that was completely irrational. When her eyes widened, accused him of falling prey to blood magic, Cullen knew in that moment she was lost. She had truly gone mad, may have been the entire time, and he didn't realize it until it was too late. He put his life on the line that day, standing alongside Carver Hawke to protect the Champion. Cullen knew he couldn't change the errors he had made, but he would certainly try to make up for them.

Dwelling on such matters would do him no good; he knew this. With determination Cullen moved towards the Gallows Hall to his office and prepared for another pleasantly uneventful day of paperwork and scheduling.

._.~`~._.*~*~*._.~`~._.

The rain began to fall as she stepped off the barge, thankful to be near solid ground again. The trip to Kirkwall had been dreadful aboard the cargo ship; ignoring the men with their prying eyes, roaming hands, and stale ale breath was no easy task even for her. It seemed they'd take anyone with a pair of legs, and apparently it'd been some time since they did so. All it took was one look from beneath her hooded cloak though and the men backed away quickly. Her scarred face, white hair, and stormy eyes were both a blessing and a curse.

Supply vessels had no cabins for passengers. Her bed for the last week was the hard deck, and her body ached as she walked down the plank to damp yet figuratively dry land. Her stomach continued to argue with her that food was now an immediate necessity, and other bodily functions were demanding her attention as well. The only woman on the vessel, she didn't have it as easy as the men did when it came to such things. Being new to the city however, she didn't want to risk doing anything until she became familiar with her surroundings.

After tossing a few gold sovereigns to the ships captain, the second part of her payment, she inquired about where she may find the knight-commander. The heavyset man looked down at her and gave her a toothless grin. "Other side of the city I'ms 'fraid. Needs a lift by boat."

"You could have told me that before Lenny," she said to the captain with a frustrated sigh. Not surprising to her though, luck had never been on her side. Back aboard yet another ship? No, her body reminded her. It's now or never. "Food?"

"We can show ya missy," one of the barge workers offered. "Headin' that way ourselves."

Blighted memory, did she know his name? She couldn't recall, or hadn't even bothered to find out, and a small twinge of guilt twisted her inside. He was one of the nicer ones; always made sure she had an extra blanket when the night chill came in and usually offered extra rations when the others weren't looking. "Thank you," she said quietly, now paying careful attention to their movements as they walked through this strange new place.

The local tavern seemed typical of other establishments she had frequented in her travels. Always stew, always watered down ale. If you closed your eyes, the smell and sounds of the place could be any one of the more shadier establishments across Thedas. Except of course for the boisterous dwarf in the corner; you'd think he was out of place somehow, but he appeared to be right at home.

She ate quickly and quietly, keeping company with those she had traveled with to avoid suspicious eyes had she dined alone. Doubtful anyone here knew her, but she kept the hood of her cloak over her head just in case. Can never be too careful, especially when on the run. Now if only she can make it to the washroom without incident...

"Need help miss?"

Blighted dwarf, where did he come from? "No, thank you," she whispered hoarsely as she stepped around him on the stairs. Please don't keep talking, please don't keep talking...

Her inner mantra seemed to have worked as she heard the dwarf yell something about a bet to whomever he had been drinking with. The clink of coin on a table echoed from the main room as she safely made it to the washroom.

._.~`~._.*~*~*._.~`~._.

Cullen sat back in his chair and observed the recruits training from his office window. The Order had an astounding number of volunteers after the fall of the Chantry; mainly religious folk, but a handful of guards had asked to join as well. Given the numbers they had lost that day, Cullen accepted nearly all who showed promise. In the beginning it was harder to distinguish those who were sincere in their request and those who wanted revenge against the mages, but now they had a better handle on it.

The group training below appeared to be a capable bunch. The heavy rain that had fallen throughout the day didn't stop them from their drills. Each row remained in pristine formation through lunges and forward attacks and defensive stances. Cullen made a mental note to commend their trainer for the obvious time and hard work he had invested.

With a heavy sigh Cullen pulled himself away from the window and went back to the several missives and scheduling requests he had to sort through before the days end. He was starting to realize why Meredith was locked in her office for most of the day; the paperwork was never-ending. And yet another task he had to perform; cleaning out her office. He preferred to remain in the familiar surroundings of his own office and had no intentions on changing that. But she would no doubt have paperwork left over that he should've attended to months ago.

Maker, why does every noble insist on inviting me to their parties? Most of his letters were just that, and his head began to ache with the amount of excuses he would have to come up with. He'd have to wait for his meeting with the captain of the guard later in the week; Aveline always had the best excuses.

The knock at his door was a welcome distraction, and he called for his guard to enter. An unnecessary precaution he felt, having a guard, but Aveline had insisted that until all of the mages were accounted for he needed the added protection. "My apologies for the intrusion Knight-Commander," Brodie said as he stood in the doorway. "There is a messenger here for you."

Cullen didn't bother to look up when the man entered. He continued to read yet another invitation as he extended his hand to receive the letter. "Thank you Brodie," he responded.

Brodie gently coughed to get Cullen's attention. "No letter Sir," the guard told Cullen when he made eye contact. "She says she has to speak with you personally. Says it's news from Kinloch Hold."

Cullen quickly pushed his chair back and stood to look over Brodie's shoulder. An outline of a figure dressed in a black hooded cloak casually leaned against the opposite wall. Cullen rested his fingers on the hilt of his sword that stood next to his desk and then nodded to Brodie. "You can send her in."

The guard bowed as he moved aside and gestured for the woman to enter. Cullen noticed simple leather armor beneath the cape, but could see no obvious sign of weapons. The lack of muscle tone on her exposed calves told him that she was no warrior or rogue. She stood with her head down so he couldn't see her face, drops of rain falling from her hood to the floor. Her traveling clothes did not appear to be of Ferelden make. His curiosity was nearly killing him, so he decided to allow this person his time.

"You may leave us Brodie," Cullen told his guard while keeping his eyes on the woman.

Brodie hesitated before his departure, searching for any sign that Cullen may be trying to signal him or be in danger. When he saw there was none, the guard reluctantly exited the office, closing the door behind him.

"Shall we get down to business then?" Cullen asked the mysterious messenger. "What news do you bring from the Circle?"

The woman that stood before him remained silent as she slowly brought her hands to the front of her hood. Her movements were full of apprehension as she pulled back the damp material, her wet hair clinging to her forehead. She didn't dare look up at him, keeping her chin tucked closely to her chest.

He didn't need to see her face. Her white hair gave her away instantly, though it was much shorter than the last time he had seen her. Her hands were trembling as she finished removing her cover, allowing the hood to fall into position on her back. Cullen took a deep breath before circling his desk, his sword long forgotten.

She shied away from him the moment he was within arms reach, turning her body to her left. "Don't," he said as he brought his hand to her face, gently resting his fingers under her chin. Cullen felt the pressure within his chest as he looked into her eyes. The same smoky gray eyes that had haunted him for years now looked back at him. Her skin seemed darker, harsher than the soft pale he used to know, but this was her; she was here.

It wasn't until he caressed her face that he brushed upon what she had been hiding. He delicately ran the pad of his index finger across the scar that ran from the tip of her brow to the middle of her cheek. Cullen saw the shame in her expression, the fear in her eyes. It broke his heart to see her sadness, but Maker knows it was never her looks he fell in love with. "Solona," he whispered her name, as if saying it too loudly would make her disappear. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help Cullen," Solona replied quietly. "I know I shouldn't have come, but there's no one else I can trust."

"What's happened?" Cullen asked as he pulled his hand away from her. He scolded himself for even touching her. It has been years, they were no longer...whatever it was that they were. But to see her again, here, standing in his office...

She tried not to let him see that his sudden withdrawal hurt as much as if he'd hit her. "Please hear me out, that's all I ask," Solona said quickly. Now that she was here, standing before him, she felt nervous. Not only did all of the old feelings she had long since buried come to the surface, but she feared that their time apart would prevent him from helping her. If he refused, she didn't know what she was going to do. He was her last option, her only option.

"Please don't make me ask again," Cullen warned a bit more harshly than he had intended. She certainly hadn't changed that much; her tone was similar to the many times she had done something she wasn't supposed to in the tower, and then had come to him for help. Only they weren't in the Circle any longer. She was still a mage, Hero or not, and he was now the knight-commander of Kirkwall.

Solona almost smiled at his familiar lack of patience. She would've, if it wasn't for the severity of the situation she was in. "It's the Seekers," she whispered as if they were listening. "They are coming for me."