Warning: Sensitive content at the end of the chapter.
Miriam stepped out of the Commander's chambers and donned her mask, feeling the chill of the metal against her flushed face. Relief and joy swirled within her, elusive to capture in mere words. With a sigh, she inhaled deeply, drawing in the frigid air and the myriad scents that permeated the fortress. With renewed vigor, she traversed the Skyhold to her quarters, each step buoyed by an unseen spring, a testament to the weight lifted from her shoulders.
The kiss she exchanged with Cullen bore no resemblance to the tormented experience she had known with Gaspard. There was no metallic tang of blood, no icy grip that seized her soul from within. Instead, she savored the warmth of his lips and the gentle caress of his breath, enveloping her in a cocoon of tenderness. In his embrace, a delicate balance of strength and gentleness, she found solace, as if her hero were cradling her heart in his tender grasp.
As the mage pondered the notion of passion, she recalled the often-spoken metaphor of butterflies fluttering in the stomach. Halting abruptly in her stride, she pressed her hand against her midsection, eyes tightly shut, seeking that sensation. Yet, despite her earnest effort, she found no trace of wings in motion nor even the faintest stirrings within. Instead, a vivid image blossomed in her mind's eye: the roots of a mighty tree entwined around her heart, its branches weaving their way through her being. It dawned on her that, with fervent prayer and nurturing care, the branches of her heart's tree would begin to bloom. And it would be these flowers that would attract the butterflies, heralding the arrival of passion and fulfillment.
Elated by this revelation, she felt a surge of gratitude overwhelm her. With purposeful steps, she hastened to the Skyhold's Chapel to offer thanks to the Maker and His Bride for granting her the chance to embody all that Cullen deserved in a partner.
The next morning, Miriam stuck to her usual routine as breakfast arrived in her quarters, delivered by a maid—a simple yet filling spread of fresh bread, cheese, and a steaming mug of tea. While, as the Inquisitor, she could have indulged in more luxurious meals, those options only served as stark reminders of her past loneliness within the Trevelyan estate. Opting for modest fare, though, brought forth cherished memories of her time in the Circle, prompting her to consistently choose the latter.
Once she had replenished herself, the mage made her way towards the kitchens of Skyhold, where the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat welcomed her, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of pots and pans. Despite her inability to taste anything beyond blood, Miriam still found solace in the tantalizing scents that surrounded her.
With confidence, she approached the cooks, a smile gracing her lips as she meticulously gathered an assortment of food for Cullen, ensuring it was impeccably arranged for delivery.
With breakfast in hand, she made her way to the Commander's quarters, her steps steady and purposeful. As she approached the door, she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She suddenly felt a little shy, though she didn't know why. Knocking softly, she waited for her betrothed to answer. The door swung open, revealing Cullen in his customary attire, his countenance lighting up at the sight of her.
With a nod of acknowledgment, Miriam presented him with the meal she had brought. "Good morning," she greeted him warmly. "I trust you found rest last night?" Knowing all too well the torment of nightmares, their concern for each other's sleep was a familiar refrain.
Cullen's expression softened as he accepted the offering, gratitude shimmering in the depths of his gaze. "Thank you, Miriam," he replied, his voice suffused with appreciation. "Your kindness never goes unnoticed. Yes, I enjoyed a peaceful night's rest with no nightmares, quite the opposite actually…" His words trailed off, a subtle blush gracing his cheeks. "And you?"
"No nightmares for me either!" the mage uttered with enthusiasm. "My dreams were filled with the beauty of flowers and butterflies dancing in the sunlight, a symphony of passion and joy."
His eyebrow arched in a subtle but telling manner, but before he could speak, the arrival of a messenger interrupted their exchange.
The woman saluted Miriam and the Commander before delivering her message. "Knight-Captain Rylen requests your presence at the training grounds, Ser, at your earliest convenience," she announced briskly.
Cullen's expression shifted swiftly, his countenance assuming a composed and formal air with practiced ease. "It seems duty calls," he remarked, his eyes flicking towards the messenger, who awaited his response. "I must bid you farewell, Inquisitor."
"Of course, Commander," she replied with a nod. With a graceful pivot on her heels, she hastened off to attend to her own duties in her quarters, content in the knowledge that, thanks to her, Cullen would at least have the chance to eat breakfast at some point during the busy day ahead.
Entering the Grand Hall, she found herself enveloped in a sea of nobility, where conversation swirled thickly, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and intermittent bursts of laughter. With a heavy sigh, seeing as the daily trading of secrets and gossip was already underway, it was enough to relieve Miriam of her pleasant mood. Each time she entered their den, she told herself to ignore them, but her personal affairs had been made public and now this was an entirely different game. Despite her best efforts, her heart fluttered nervously, while a faint warmth prickled her skin. Each laugh felt like a jab at her inability to bear children, each glance scrutiny of her emerald veins and masked face. Though Josephine extolled the nobles' support as invaluable, she found herself yearning for them to depart from Skyhold's halls, believing they could just as effectively render their financial assistance from the comfort of their estates. Lost in her thoughts as she navigated the crowd, she collided with an aristocrat, causing a flurry of papers to scatter in all directions. "Oh, my apologies!" she exclaimed, but the man brushed past her without a word, swiftly vanishing into the throng. She couldn't even discern his features—just a fleeting glimpse of vibrant fabric before he disappeared from sight.
Bewildered, Miriam kneeled to gather the scattered papers, intending to return them to the Ambassador, who would surely know their rightful owner. As she collected the documents, her gaze fell upon the writing etched across them, immediately recognizing Lysette's distinctive script. Confused, she hesitated for a moment before giving in to the temptation to steal a glance at the contents.
Her heart raced as she absorbed the details of the report, disbelief washing over her in waves. The words seemed to leap off the pages, each sentence more shocking than the last. Her friend was describing to someone named 'L' the events that unfolded when they emerged from the Fade at the Western Approach, including the kiss Miriam shared with the Emperor. She had confided in Lysette about that vulnerable moment in private, only to find it now laid bare on paper for prying eyes to dissect and scrutinize. Dismay, like a coiling serpent of venom, gripped her heart. One need not possess genius to discern that 'L' referred to Leliana. The revelation that the Spymaster had employed her friend as a pawn in her schemes did not surprise her; she had never expected decency from such a woman. Lysette though... Her thoughts spiraled as she grappled with the betrayal of her trust by her friend. What justification could redeem such treachery? Her confusion morphed into anger. The noble who carried the report must have been one of the Spymaster's agents. If he hadn't been in such haste, she realized with growing indignation, she might have remained completely unaware of the Knight's deceit. Wrath fueling her determination, she stormed toward Skyhold's Garden. This was where her guard often spent her free time, near Brother Sebastian, who tended to the herbs thriving within.
As she entered the garden, clutching the damning papers tightly in her fist, she frantically scanned the verdant expanse. In a moment, her gaze alighted upon Lysette standing near Sebastian, the very epitome of camaraderie, as they shared laughter amidst the fragrant blooms of Crystal Grace. Standing beside them with a somber countenance was the imposing form of Fenris, his steely gaze fixed on the pair. Annoyance flickered across his features, a silent testament to his disapproval of the scene unfolding before him.
As she approached the trio, her voice rang out like a clarion call, cutting through the air with a sharpness that silenced the laughter and drew all eyes upon her. "Lysette, we need to talk. Come."
"Inquisitor, what..." The Templar began, but she was ignored as Miriam grabbed the confused Knight by the forearm and dragged her to a more secluded corner of the garden. Abruptly halting, she turned to confront Lysette.
"How could you?" the mage demanded, thrusting the papers into her guard's hands, her voice quivering with indignation. "You were the one I trusted, the one I confided in. And yet, you saw fit to betray that trust, to divulge my most intimate secrets to Leliana."
Lysette's countenance wavered, a fleeting moment of fear and surprise flitting across her features as she glanced at the documents. "Where did you…how?" Yet, she swiftly regained her composure, meeting Miriam's gaze with defiance. "Why do you assume they were penned by me?" she countered. "It could have been any other of her agents."
"Do you take me for a fool?" The enchanter snapped, her voice rising with each word, a torrent of emotion pouring from her lips. "Do you dare to think that after all this time I would not recognize your hand? Besides, apart from the Emperor and myself, only you knew of the kiss."
Lysette shifted uncomfortably, a fleeting grimace contorting her features before she spoke, her words weighted with resignation. "I acted as duty demanded. If the Knight-Commander decrees obedience to the Spymaster of the Inquisition, I must obey, regardless of my personal feelings. Leliana instructed me to report any significant events happening in your life, and so I did."
Miriam's anger brooked no excuses; her heart was raw with the sting of betrayal. "You could have followed her orders, but gave me a simple sign, a whisper of warning about them. That would have sufficed to preserve the sanctity of our friendship. Why didn't you? Why!?"
"I couldn't risk even the subtlest hint of defiance," Lysette countered, her voice firm with conviction. "To disobey the Spymaster's directives, even in such a manner, would jeopardize not only my standing within the Order but also our cause as a whole." The Templar's expression softened. "I wish it wasn't that way," she admitted, her voice tinged with sorrow. "But duty leaves little room for sentimentality."
Miriam's countenance hardened, her frustration bubbling over as she struggled to reconcile her friend's obedience with her sense of betrayal. "So you would sacrifice our friendship for the sake of duty?" she asked, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"I sacrificed nothing," Lysette countered. "I merely upheld the oaths that bind me, as any true Knight of the Order would."
"Is that so? How very noble of you," Miriam uttered, each word laced with venomous contempt. How foolish she had been to believe that Lysette cherished their bond as deeply as she did. The Templar likely never regarded her as a friend at all, but merely as the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor—a figure to defend but also one she could deceive if ordered to do so.
A desire for vengeance surged within the mage, fierce and unrelenting, urging her to repay the betrayal. An eye for an eye. Her lips curled into a smirk, she knew just the secret that, if revealed, would cut Lysette to the core. With a tempest in her heart, Miriam marched back to Sebastian, her every step fueled by a righteous fury. "Brother Sebastian! I believe it is my duty to tell you something," she shouted, her tone commanding attention as she approached him.
Lysette's countenance swiftly shifted from bewilderment to dread, her hand reaching out to grasp the mage's wrist. "Please, don't!" she implored urgently. However, her plea fell upon deaf ears as Miriam, with a brisk motion, broke free from her guard's hold.
"You must know," she pressed on, her voice carrying an intensified fervor, "that this woman," she gestured towards the Templar, "the one with whom you were just moments ago sharing a laugh, is the very same person who proposed that your wife remain behind to confront the Nightmare demon within the Fade. Lysette was well aware of Hawke's boldness, her readiness for a challenge, and she exploited it!" Shock registered on the faces of both Sebastian and Fenris, their eyes shifting towards the Knight, whose countenance now bore an unmistakable mask of horror. Yet, undeterred by their reaction, Miriam forged ahead. "There was no genuine need for your wife's sacrifice, Brother, the Chevaliers of His Majesty would have sufficed, but Lysette hoped that this foul deed would give her a chance with a man she had long desired—you!"
A heavy silence descended upon the garden, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Sebastian's gaze bore into the Templar with piercing intensity. "Is this true?" he inquired, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. Lysette hesitated, her eyes flitting nervously between the trio before her. "Is this true?!" Sebastian's voice escalated, infused with a potent mixture of anguish and fury. The Templar's gaze fell, her hands methodically crumpling the papers into a tight ball, all the while she maintained her silence. "SPEAK!"
The Knight jerked as if struck, raising her now pallid face to meet the Brother's gaze, her movements slow and deliberate. "Yes," she confessed, her voice barely rising above a whisper. "I am so, so sorry, Sebastian. I swear I…" Before she could finish, the elf emitted a guttural growl, his markings coming to life, and darted forward with lightning speed. In the blink of an eye, his right hand plunged into the Templar's chest. Lysette's countenance froze in a ghastly mask of shock and agony, her eyes widening to the point of nearly bulging from their sockets. The documents slipped from her grasp as she instinctively reached out, her hand grasping the elf's arm in a futile attempt to halt his assault.
"Stop!" Miriam and Sebastian cried in unison, their voices echoing in a chorus of desperate protest.
"Why!? She deserves to be punished for what she has done," the elf spat, his voice heavy with a mixture of anger and frustration.
The mage was about to speak when the Brother put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it as if to tell her to keep quiet. "She does," he started solemnly. "And believe me, I understand your thirst for vengeance. But Lysette is not just any member of the Order. She is the personal guard of the Inquisitor. If you were to take her life, the consequences would be dire. You will be arrested and face imprisonment, perhaps even death."
"I do not care," the elf announced defiantly, his gaze fixed on the Templar, whose face began to take on a sickly blue hue, her lips turning almost black from the strain. It was clear she couldn't endure the pressure on her heart for much longer. Miriam, her resolve firm, stood ready to unleash her flames upon the elf if he did not release the Knight in the next few moments. She desired for Lysette to suffer the same pain she had inflicted, not for her life to be taken.
"But I care, Fenris, deeply," Sebastian's voice cracked with emotion. "With my wife lost in the Fade and my best friend rotting in the cell, or worse, how am I to go on living? Don't abandon me..."
"Kaffas!" the elf snarled. He swiftly withdrew his hand from the Templar's chest, and Lysette crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Fenris spat contemptuously onto her prone form. "Count your blessings, bitch. If it weren't for Sebastian, you'd be dead." With that, he turned away and strode from the gardens.
Meanwhile, Miriam kneeled before the fallen Knight, a spell at the ready to assess any damage, but the Templar slapped her hands away. Lysette then looked up at the Brother, tears welling in her eyes. "Sebastian..."
"Do not sully my name with your foul lips," he interrupted with a cold, disdainful glare. "You must understand two things, first, I will leave your punishment in the hands of the Maker, and second, I will not waste hate or resentment on a wretch like you. To entertain such sentiments would require me to think of you, and you, you are unworthy of even that. When we cross paths again, for Skyhold is not so vast, I will simply ignore your vile presence, and I expect the same from you." As his gaze settled on the mage, gratitude draped Sebastian's countenance. "Bless you, Inquisitor, for revealing her transgressions to me. I wish this revelation had graced my ears sooner, but it seems the Maker decreed otherwise. And now, if you would be so kind as to grant me leave." With a fluid motion, Sebastian spun on his heel, a somber air enveloping him as he retreated, leaving the mage to confront the anguished Lysette in solitude.
As the Templar lay prostrate upon the cool, damp earth, wracked with sobs that reverberated through her frame, her fingers sought purchase in the soil beneath her. With a desperate fervor, she clawed into the ground, the earth yielding to her touch as her mailed fingers dug into its soft surface.
Miriam, observing the Knight's turmoil, felt a pang of conflicted emotions gnawing at her heart. She had achieved her objective, yet the victory tasted bitter upon her tongue, devoid of the satisfaction she had anticipated. While she pondered what to do next, Lysette's sobs seemed to still, her gaze turning towards the mage with eyes brimming with feverish intensity. The Templar rose slowly from the ground, her armor and gloves smeared with soil, and extended a hand towards Miriam, her grip firm yet tremulous. "Come," she commanded, her voice raw but firm, "let us retreat to your quarters." Without pausing for a reply, she pulled the mage to her feet and proceeded to guide her onward.
Miriam, confounded by Lysette's inexplicable actions, staggered forward in a haze of bewilderment. "For what purpose?" she ventured, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
But Lysette offered no explanation, her gaze fixed ahead as if driven by an unseen force. "I must compose a letter," she stated simply. This explanation did little to assuage Miriam's confusion, but in the absence of anger, a strange numbness descended upon her.
As they entered Miriam's chambers, the Knight released her grip on the mage's hand and made her way to the table with purpose. "Fetch me a quill and paper," she ordered, her tone clipped.
Miriam complied, handing over the requested items with a perplexed expression. As Lysette swiftly penned something onto the paper and folded it neatly, Miriam couldn't help but somehow find this whole situation surreal. "Give this to Brother Sebastian," the Knight instructed, laying the missive, its corners smudged with dirt, upon the table. "He will accept it if it comes from you. Denying one's final plea is a sin of the gravest order."
Looking at the letter with a furrowed brow, Miriam's confusion deepened. "Why would you call this your final plea?" she inquired, her voice betraying a tremor of apprehension.
Lysette didn't grace the mage with a response as she rose from the table, her movements possessing an air of solemn determination. With measured steps, she made her way toward the balcony, the faint rustle of her armor accompanying her progress. When she reached the balustrade she paused and turned to face Miriam with an intensity in her gaze that mirrored that of the battle. The brilliance of the day's sun lent an ethereal glow to her features, casting delicate shadows upon her countenance as it danced upon her chestnut locks. "Remember this moment, Miriam," the Knight spoke, her voice carrying a weight that belied its soft timbre. "Know that you bear the burden of responsibility for what is about to happen."
With a deliberate motion, Lysette leaned back against the rail of the balcony, her form silhouetted against the azure expanse of sky. She closed her eyes and spread her hands, a serene calm washing over her features.
"Lysette?" the mage called with a sudden surge of panic as she made a tentative step toward her guard, but the Knight ignored her. With a fluid motion, the Templar arched her back, and then, with a swift push of her legs from the floor, she surrendered herself to the motion, sliding over the rail with effortless grace.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as Miriam watched, in stunned horror, the empty space where Lysette had stood mere seconds ago. The bustling sounds of Skyhold faded to a distant hum, overshadowed by the deafening silence that enveloped her. Then, a faint thud pierced through the stillness, shattering her stupor like fragile glass, leaving behind shards of shock and sorrow. Miriam's heart clenched in her chest, her voice trapped in her throat as she dashed to the balcony's edge. With a grip so tight that her knuckles turned white, she leaned over, desperately scanning the area below for any sign of her friend. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she caught sight of a vivid red against the dull gray of the stone, far below and barely discernible in the distance.
The mage's legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor, her world crumbling around her. As she huddled against the cold stone with tears streaming down her face, a desperate thought began to take root in her mind. "This isn't real," she whispered to herself. "I'm in the Fade... None of this is happening. I'll wake up soon, and Lysette will be right beside me, safe and sound." Miriam forced herself upright, her hands shaking as she brushed away the tears staining her cheeks. Slowly, she turned away from the balcony and retreated to her room, the weight of exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Collapsing onto her bed, she surrendered to the overwhelming fatigue, seeking solace beneath the covers. Curling up beneath them, she murmured into the darkness, her voice barely audible, "Any moment now…"