Chapter Text
Cullen had hurried up from Haven just after the explosion rocked the surrounding area. He was filled with grief at the knowledge of how many had lost their lives inside the Temple for nothing remained of the large building but a few broken stones.
He could still feel the shake of the earth and see the ash rising into the air. For one terrifying moment, he was back in Kirkwall when the Chantry had exploded. A wave of nausea clung to him as he tried to focus past it.
He knew the same had been done here. That someone had once more murdered those who sought nothing but peace.
He had crested over the edge of a hill when there was a crack in the air and a flash of green light as if the very air tore to some hellish nightmare.
He swore to the maker as he shielded his eyes with the edge of his sword and swore again when he realized something stepped out of the green light.
Cullen watched as the tiny thing – something he realized was a child – slumped to the ground unconscious.
“Andraste preserve me…” He mumbled as he approached. He got close enough to get a good look at the child and he froze.
One look and he recognized the child. A young girl, no more then ten, perhaps even younger. Her hair was wrong colour, an almost coppery tinged blonde compared to the dark brown he remembered but there was no mistaking that tangle of hair or that nose or the spattering of freckles or any of the miniaturized features. There were enough differences that he knew it was not the woman he once knew but the similarity was downright frightening.
A mixture of emotions went through him like a runaway wagon. He remembered the circle mage he had been captivated with even though it had been years since he saw her last. Uldred had taken the tower and murdered or twisted those within. He had been the last templar to hold out even as demons taunted him with what he had desired most.
It had been years but he still remembered how he had reacted to her. How he had demanded that she kill every mage in the tower.
It had been years since he stood at her grave and begged forgiveness.
“Commander?” One of his soldiers questioned. “What… what do we do?”
The question snapped him out of his staring and he turned to his men. They all looked shaky, frightened and surprised; and he knew his place in this. He was their leader. There was no time to let indecision or confusion affect what decisions he had to make.
“Take her back to the Chantry.” He barked even as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had been looking at.
For sure as the temple was destroyed, he was certain he was looking at the child of hero of Ferelden.
A woman who had died nearly ten years before.