Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I was running, full tilt, terrified, afraid to look back for fear of catching my feet on the rough ground. There was someone running beside me, their hand clutching mine, but I couldn’t risk looking at them, either. Not without risking biting the dust, and if I did that whatever was behind us would… do something horrible, presumably.

So, you know, pretty standard dream for me, really. Talking to people about my dreams was enough to know they were weirdly vivid, and usually excessively violent and upsetting. My little sister, Cathy, would never believe me when I told her about them. She never remembered any of her own, so assumed my long, rambling narratives were just me making shit up. While frightening, this one was pretty much par for the course.                  

Then, boom.

            A flash of fluorescent yellow-green and the sensation of falling, and suddenly I was kneeling in a freezing cold stone room, hands tied together in front of me, with four burly guys pointing literal swords at me. So, tied up in a dungeon while being menaced by a bunch of dudes who looked like they’d wandered in from a very serious ren faire. Probably still dreaming then, yeah?

            Except then my hand lit up with the same yellow-green light I’d seen in my dream, and with it came pain. Pain beyond pain, like someone had flayed me down to the nerves and then doused what was left with acid. I always felt some sensation in dreams, but never anything on that level. Agony like that could only be real.

            Before I could start screaming (for, like, so many reasons) the door to the dungeon was thrown open, and two women marched up to me. They were both also armed and armoured like they’d just escaped an HBO set, and they looked deeply unimpressed with me.

            “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” said the one in front, tough-looking with short dark hair and a scar on her cheek. As opening lines went, it grabbed my attention right away, I’d give her that. It also sent my cortisol levels through the fucking roof. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

            “The what? The… the what? No, I… You don’t understand, I –”

            She lunged forwards to grab my stinging, glowing hand (glowing, how was it fucking GLOWING?) and snapped, “Explain this!”

            “I… I can’t, it –”

            “What do you mean you can’t?”

            As she grabbed for my shoulders, or maybe even my neck, the other woman hauled her away with a cry of, “We need her, Cassandra!”

            “Please,” I said feebly as they glared at each other. “Please, I don’t understand anything that’s happening right now, alright, I don’t know anything about any Conclave, I didn’t even know the Pope was dead, I don’t know where I am or why I’m here, or why a bunch of cosplayers would want to fucking kidnap me in the first place, okay, I… I don’t…”

            Unable to meet those glaring eyes any longer I looked down… which was when I realised there was something worse going on than just my having been arrested by seriously committed LARPers. My body wasn’t mine. I was wearing an oversized jacket I’d never seen before, which had thrown me off initially, but right then is when I realised I wasn’t me. If it was just the fact I was thinner and paler I could have explained it, maybe I’d been unconscious in that basement for a while, but I was also shorter. My arms and torso clearly were, at least, and best I could tell while kneeling down, so were my legs. I was only twenty-two. You weren’t meant to start shrinking until osteoporosis hit in your seventies or whatever, right?

            “Oh fuck,” I choked out, looking up into those angry faces again, as if I was going to find any help there. “I’m… This isn’t my body. I know that sounds… insane, impossible, but it… This isn’t me.”

            The women looked at each other. Not-Cassandra, who was pale and hooded and sporting a ginger bob, stepped forward and sounded like she was deliberately maintaining her cool as she said (in a French accent, which was about as weird as everything else going on right then), “You are Ellana Lavellan, no? You attended the Conclave in secret along with several other members of your clan?”

            “None of whom survived,” Cassandra put in, which was when I realised she also had a non-UK accent, some sort of generic Eastern European – with all the stress I couldn’t really pin it down to a specific country. Why was everyone talking at me in accents? Where the fuck was I? “Leliana already knows everything, there is no sense in lying to us now.”

            “I’m not lying, and I’m not in any fucking clan.” I tried to sound certain, to convince them, but my voice was maybe shaking a little too hard for that. “Please, alright, I… My name is Emma, Emma Morgan. I’m from Caerphilly, sort of, in south Wales. The Valleys, you know? Technically it’s not really Caerphilly, like, not Caerphilly town, it’s this tiny place further up the valley, no one’s ever heard about it, but… You know Wales, right? The UK? Yeah?”

            They looked at each other again, for longer this time, as something unspoken seemed to pass between them. “A bizarre lie to tell,” Leliana murmured. “And the Breach is unprecedented.”

            “Where is ‘Wales’?” Cassandra demanded, turning back to me. “What country?”

            “It is a country,” I said, maybe a bit defensively. Pragmatism won out over patriotism, and with a sigh I added, “Between England and Ireland, more or less. Britain. The UK. Come on now, surely you at least know the UK?”

            “Give me a real country!” Cassandra was sounding more frustrated by the moment, and while I was also getting increasingly pissed off, she was the one holding a big fuck-off sword, so I held my tongue. “Nevarra, Tevinter, Ferelden?”

            “Beyond the Sea, perhaps?” Leliana put in softly, watching me closely.

            I couldn’t answer for a long, horrified moment, my throat going tight. This wasn’t a dream, but it was also impossible. At what point, when faced with something that couldn’t be, did you have to just give in and roll with it? At what point did insisting something couldn’t be happening become detrimental to your own survival?

            “I don’t know what any of those places are,” I admitted in a whisper. “And I can’t be from ‘Beyond the Sea’, because we know every country there is in my… my world.”

            We stared at each other in silence for a while. Then Cassandra turned to Leliana, “Go to the forward camp. We will meet you there.” Once Leliana had left, Cassandra came toward me, showing me her empty hands when I flinched away, before helping me to my feet with surprising gentility.

            “You believe me?” I said in a pathetic, watery little voice as I stumbled against her, my legs numb from so long spent kneeling on the stone.

            “I believe that you believe what you’re saying,” she said, thankfully sounding less furious by then. “And I cannot deny that the situation we are dealing with is unprecedented. Beyond that… we shall see.”

            “Situation. The thing you said earlier, the… the Breach? What is that?”

            “It will be easier to show you.”

            She led me, still bound, down a corridor, up a long flight of stairs, and out through some impressively large wooden doors… into a snowy village where the sky had broken open.

            Cassandra was talking, saying something about rifts and Breaches and the Conclave, but I couldn’t process any of it. I just stared up at that split-apart sky, the swirling acid-green clouds, the floating rocks… Magic. It was magic, real magic, couldn’t be anything but. Right then I was emptied out of everything but a sort of horrible overwhelming bewilderment, my knees sagging as I tried to process what I was seeing.

            Maybe this was all a weird prank. Maybe Derren Brown was fucking with me or something. None of what I was seeing was real, it was all hypnotism and paid actors, maybe Cathy had signed me up without my knowledge for a laugh.

            Then the clouds pulsed with yellow-green lightning, my hand responded by erupting into searing pain, and my legs did give out, dumping me into the snow. The damp chill soaking through to my skin just served to reinforce the fact I was awake, this was all real, and the pain… I didn’t care what release forms someone signed, they wouldn’t be allowed to hurt me like that. I couldn’t even scream, the agony was so immense it locked my throat tight and I could only emit a little squeak, like a guinea pig being stepped on.

            “Every time the Breach expands, your Mark spreads,” Cassandra said sharply, crouching beside me, “and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

            “You really think this,” I waved my sparkly hand around, suddenly realising that was why it was glowing, because it was fucking magic, I had a magic hand now what the fuck man, “can somehow fix all of that?”

            “I think it is the only option we have.”

            I stared down at the glowing, lipless wound on the palm of the hand that wasn’t mine. This wasn’t my world, but I still didn’t want it getting swallowed up by some rejected Doctor Who event-of-the-week. Besides, maybe closing the damn thing would send me home. Save a world and be back by breakfast. Fine. Time to crack on.

            “Then let’s give it a go.”

            Cassandra looked surprised. “You mean to help? Truly?”

            “I truly do.”

            She helped me to my feet and drew a knife, again holding out her free hand reassuringly when I flinched away. Cutting the ropes around my hands, she said, “Afterwards, I can promise you a trial. No more.”

            “Groovy,” I sighed. “Let’s get rambling.”

*

                        We made our way through the little village, which Cassandra said was called Haven. It was a cute little place, all wooden huts and snowy paths, though I’d probably have liked it more if every single person we passed didn’t look like they were seconds away from shivving me. Apparently, being the only survivor of an explosion that killed hundreds of people and blew a big fuck-off hole in the sky didn’t make one especially popular. It was like a sort of enforced survivor’s guilt. Hey Em, you don’t feel bad about being alive when their Space Pope exploded? Well, here’s the local populace to literally spit at you to make up for it. Have fun!

            Beyond the village, the trip turned out to be less hideous than I’d expected. The snow was only shallow, and we followed a well-trodden path. Not just that, but whoever Ellana Lavellan may have been, she clearly spent more time and effort on her cardio than I did, even if she was, best I could tell, a full half a foot shorter than me. And I’d only been 5’6 to start with, not exactly statuesque. Stupid tiny legs had to work double-time to keep up with Cassandra.

            It was going surprisingly well, apart from the tiny legs issue, so I suppose I should have expected things to go to shit at some point. The Breach would occasionally spit things at the ground, and as Cassandra and I jogged across a scenic stone bridge a cloud of green energy slammed down in front of us, demolishing the stones under our feet and sending us tumbling down onto the frozen lake below.

            No bones broken, at least, and I didn’t even hit my head too hard, so of course things had to get worse some other way. Another burst of green slammed into the ice, and a monster crawled out of it. A literal monster, hunched and robed with a rotten, jagged face straight out of a horror movie.

            “Demon!” Cassandra barked, shoving me behind her and charging the thing, sword and shield in hand.

            I backed up towards the fallen bridge as they fought, feeling horribly exposed. Then another burst of green, another demon, this one closer. It glanced at Cassandra before, with a bubbling growl, coming at me. Unarmed, terrified, still not fully in control of my newly short-arsed body me.

            Stumbling back, I frantically looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. “Cassandra!” No swords. No knives, even. “Cassandra, demon!” My options were a rock and a stick. I picked the rock up and hucked it at the demon as hard as I could, to seemingly no effect. “Cassandra, HELP!” Fuck it, at least the stick had metal spikes on the end.

            Stick in hand, I waved it threateningly as the demon slithered towards me, emaciated arms reaching for my throat, a wave of piercing cold advancing ahead of it, stinging my face and making me blink. Stick in hand, I wished desperately that somehow, someway, I could hold the demon off just long enough for Cassandra to save me.

            Then ice came flying from the tip of the stick, pelting the demon in the face and stopping it in its tracks. We stared at each other for a baffled moment, that demon and I, and then I started waving the stick around again, sending icy blast after icy blast into the damn thing. I’d probably have looked very brave, if it wasn’t for the fact that I squealed and scurried aside every time it came too close.

            It was Cassandra who actually dealt the killing blow, though I could at least tell myself that I’d clearly injured it and made it easier to be stabbed. Yes. Clearly. I looked at her as the demon gurgled and bubbled away into nothing, letting out a laugh that bordered on the hysterical.

            “Thank fuck for this magic stick I found!”

            “Drop the staff!” Cassandra barked, coming at me with a sword and a scowl.

            “Alright, Jesus, I’m sorry!” I hastily tossed the stick to the ice, hoping the movement wouldn’t set it off, like a gun. “I thought you might want me backing you up with a magic stick, but whatever.”

            “It is not a ‘magic stick’, it is a mage’s staff,” Cassandra said archly. Sensing I was about to ask the difference, she added, “The staff is not magic in itself. The mage uses it as a focus to direct their power safely.” On seeing I still wasn’t getting it, she slowly said, “You are a mage.”

            “Fuck off am I,” I scoffed. “We don’t even have magic back home, how the hell could I be a mage?” Before I even fully finished speaking, I looked down at my unfamiliar hands. “Oh.”

            “Ellana Lavellan was the First of her clan.” Cassandra was still speaking slowly, like she was carefully considering every word. The woman caught on quickly, too, because I barely had time to look confused before she explained, “Dalish elves don’t submit their mages to Circles, but rather allow them to lead their clans. They call these mage leaders Keepers. The Keeper’s protégé is called the First.”

            There was a lot in there that just ended up making me even more confused, but one thing jumped out at me right away. “Dalish elves? Elves are a thing here? And this Lavellan…” My hands shot to my ears, which were indeed pointy. A bubble of hysteria welled up in my chest, but I managed to force it down, just barely.

            Cassandra stared levelly at me for a while, eventually gesturing towards the stick – staff – whatever. “Take it. You have the right to defend yourself. Even with… everything, I must remember you agreed to come willingly.”

*

                        We jogged on, getting into a few more fights along the way. That bubble of hysteria kept repeating on me, but for the moment I was able to choke it down, focus on the novelty of working ACTUAL MAGIC instead. I still wasn’t sure how I was doing it. Maybe I was operating on a kind of muscle memory. Ellana Lavellan’s muscle memory. And just like that, the hysteria was back.

            This continued until we came across this… thing. Like a blinding yellow-green slash in the air, which had just vomited out a bunch of demons. There were a few other people fighting alongside us, but I barely noticed them until the last demon turned into a puddle, and one of the guys grabbed my fizzing left hand. With a yell of, “Before more come through!” he wrenched my hand upwards, towards the green tear. The pain in my hand increased to an almost unbearable level as a sort of tether of light sprang from the shining wound in my palm to the one in the air… and then, just like that, the tear was gone, and everything was quiet.

            “Oh wow,” I said, pulling my hand back to stare at the gleam as it faded back to normal. “How’d you do that?”

            “I did nothing,” the guy said, “the credit is yours.”

            I looked at him for the first time, and felt like I’d been smacked when I spotted a pair of pointy ears. An elf. They genuinely had elves. This one, apparently called Solas, was quite a bit taller than Ellana, and shiny bald, with a very angular face and a Welsh accent. Welsh! I was better disposed to him immediately. Though him saying I was their ‘key to salvation’ came close to making me panic again.

            They quickly introduced me to Varric Tethras, an actual, honest-to-God fantasy dwarf, because they had those too, who was distractingly hot in a blond, rugged, exposed-chest-in-zero-degree-weather sort of way. He’d named his crossbow Bianca, and had an American accent. I was keeping track of that shit by then.

            Varric got out just enough for me to know he was also there under duress (Cassandra was just wandering the mountains collecting kidnap victims like Infinity Stones, good lord) before Cassandra impatiently cut him off. “Solas, the prisoner says she is not Ellana Lavellan, that she is instead a woman from another world who has somehow found herself in this position. You are our Fade expert. Is she lying, has Lavellan gone mad, or could she be telling the truth?”

            “That’s the story you’re going with?” Varric said through choked laughter. “I’ve got to give you points for ingenuity, Dreamer, even I’d never have tried spinning that one.”

            “Varric, please,” Solas said, staring intently at me. “Is that true? You remember another world?”

            “Yeah. There’s no elves, no… well, there’s dwarves, but that’s a medical thing, not like a race. No magic. Just, like, planes, and computers, and uh… the internal combustion engine…”

            “May I?”

            He held out his hands, and I reluctantly nodded. Resting one palm on my forehead and the other on my chest, just below my throat, he stood with his eyes closed for a moment, a weird humming sensation spreading from the points of contact. Then he stepped back, cocking his head.

            “Remarkable,” he said. “While I cannot speak for her memories, I can confirm that there is a soul within this body that is not the original. A true soul, at that. She is no abomination.”

            “You don’t think I’m crazy?” I whispered.

            His answering smile was the most reassuring thing I’d seen since waking up, though admittedly it wasn’t like there was a lot of competition on that front. “No,” he said, “I don’t believe you are.”

            “Andraste’s tits,” Varric said, earning a disgusted noise from Cassandra. “That hole really is spitting out the weirdest crap.”

            “It would be unheard of.” Cassandra sounded like she, at least, would still need some convincing. “Not to mention the possibility of other worlds –”

            “Those interested in these matters have long considered such a thing to be possible.” Solas’ voice was calm, almost lyrical, especially against the background of rumbling thunder and the distant crash of Breach-stuff falling to the ground. “Different universes pressed as closely together as leaves in a book. It might be possible that other worlds, even those without conscious connection to magic, may have access to a Fade of their own, a land of dreams that abuts ours. If the explosion at the Conclave was large enough to drive a path deep into the Fade, perhaps it was also able to tear a hole into this parallel Fade. Not a large one; barely enough for one sleeping soul to slip through, becoming trapped in the body of the person who was at the epicentre of the event.”

            “Ellana Lavellan,” I said.

            “Then she was the one who caused the explosion?” Cassandra demanded.

            “I cannot speak to that either way. Only that she must have been very close to the point of ignition, and your prisoner now occupies her body as a result.”

            “What about my body?” I asked hesitantly. “Is it just… dead in bed back there? Or will it look like I’m in a coma? Or Ellana, is she, I mean, could we maybe have swapped or something?”

            Christ, I didn’t know which option appealed least. After uni I’d gone back to living with my mother and little sister, saving up for a house deposit while working a shitty office job. What was the better outcome for them, that they just couldn’t wake me up, that they found my corpse, or that some terrified elf woke up there and, presumably, immediately started throwing hands?

            Oh Jesus, my cat. My cat would never understand what had happened to me.

            “Ellana will almost certainly have perished in the explosion,” Solas said, looking like he was choosing every word with care. “Beyond that, I could not speak with any confidence. I am very sorry.”

            “Thanks all the same.”

            “We must continue to the Breach.” Cassandra’s voice was firm, though not without sympathy, and her gaze was a lot softer when it met mine. “Whether you are trapped here or linked to your true body, you must agree that the world you now inhabit being destroyed will help no one.”

            Unless closing the Breach trapped me there, I thought as we set off, jogging ever upwards through the snow. Unless letting that whole world get swallowed up sent me home. Could I do that? Could I let an entire world fall into ruin and death, just for the chance at going home?

            “I’m sorry,” Solas said after a while, “I do not believe I caught your name.”

            “Emma.”

            “A good name,” he said with this funny little smile. Kind of a weird response, but the guy was an elf, so, what did I know, right? For all I knew, elves just went around marking people’s names out of ten as a cultural thing.

            We met up with Leliana on a bridge (one that thankfully didn’t blow up under us) where she was arguing with a guy in the fanciest outfit I’d seen that day, which was saying something. I gathered his name was Roderick, and he was being a real Roderdick, yelling about how I needed to be dragged off and Old Yeller’d. I let Cassandra handle the explanations and just stared at that swirling green mess in the sky. Magic. Even using the staff all the way up there hadn’t dulled the wonder of it any.

            Oh shit, they wanted me to make a decision. An actual tactical decision, one that actual lives depended on. I struggled to choose what to have for dinner most days. But someone had mentioned there being people lost up the mountain, people who’d just be left to die if we went the other way, and I couldn’t do that. There’d be deaths either way, yeah, but sending soldiers out to fight somehow felt less cold-blooded than abandoning people to certain death on a freezing mountainside.

            I ended up glad to have done it. After closing another of those rift things up on top of the mountain, picking up a compliment from Solas along the way (“You are becoming quite proficient at this”, “Thanks, I just wave my hand around and it sort of happens”) I found the survivors of the missing scout patrol. Now they were still alive. Because of me. Not going to lie, that gave me the warm fuzzies.

            “Thank the prisoner,” Cassandra said, in answer to the scouts showing gratitude.

            “The prisoner?” the leader of the scouting party, a woman in her thirties with short blonde hair and very blue eyes, sounded like she’d just been told to thank a cockroach.

            “Hi,” I said, awkwardly waving with my glowing hand. “Couldn’t just leave you up here without backup, you know.”

            “Thank you,” the leader said, and this time she sounded so genuine, so fervent, it made my face go very warm.

            “Look at that,” Varric chuckled, patting me on the back as Cassandra told the scouts to head back the way we’d come. “You’re a hero, Dreamer.”

            “Makes a nice change to everyone I meet wanting me put down like a lame horse,” I said, earning another chuckle.

            Down the other side of the mountain then, trying not to trip over my unfamiliar feet and tumble the whole way. We came out beside what looked like an impact crater, peaks and ridges of molten-then-solidified rock lit from within by veins that glowed the same colour as the shimmering mark on my hand.

            “Seeker!”

            The voice was deep and rich, and even before I turned, I assumed it would be a man. Then I saw him, armed and armoured, heading towards us at a brisk walk.

            Time stopped. Heart lurched. Mouth went dry. Brain stopped responding.

            Deep Trouble Spotted.

            I couldn’t even say whether he was super attractive or not – it was a far too regular occurrence for me to point out someone I thought was hot, only to then be mocked mercilessly for my… particular taste, though usually that was more common with people I’d known for a while. Also, my taste in men ran to the twink, and this guy was burlier than I’d usually have gone for (or was that just the thick fur of his collar making him look bigger, like a cat puffing itself up?), but he had a good strong jaw and thick blond hair, and despite the general shittiness of the situation the instant I saw him my brain fell out. Smitten.

            He was deep in conversation with Cassandra, giving me a chance to hear that he had something like an RP English accent, and he seemed to be trying to peer around her to get a better look at little old me. I tried my best to smile attractively, only to be distracted by the reminder that my face wasn’t my face.

            Suddenly he was right there in front of me, having stepped around Cassandra. He was a full foot taller than me, maybe more, with eyes that were such a light hazel they looked almost amber, and I’d probably have said something stupid if he hadn’t spoken first, his sharp brusqueness a dash of cold water to my fevered mind.

            “They’d better be right about you.”

            I wanted to snap back something snarky, maybe something a bit cheeky. But between that glare and the way those frozen-molten-rocks loomed over us, all I managed to squeak out was, “I… I’m going to try.”

            Solas and Varric closed in on either side of me, lending me some silent moral support, which was so welcome right then I’d have hugged them both, if it wouldn’t have looked unprofessional. Anyway, Hot Angry Guy grunted and took off down the valley, calling something about watching our backs over his shoulder. I noticed he stopped to help an injured man on the way, which sort of made up for the meanness. After all, as far as he knew I could have –

            We turned towards the ruins of the temple, and as we did I realised what I’d taken for statues all around us were actually bodies. The scorched, in some cases still burning, corpses of people who’d clearly died in extremes of terror and pain. Some were cowering, others seemed to be making futile attempts to shield those around them. All were nothing more than leathery husks. I let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a groan, clamping a hand over my mouth.

            “What?” Cassandra demanded, trying to look in all directions at once. “What do you see?”

            “The… the bodies…”

            “What about the bodies? Speak, girl!”

            “They… Oh God, look at them all…”

            “Ah,” Solas said softly. “I see.”

            “What do you see?” Cassandra asked impatiently.

            “She has never seen bodies before, Seeker,” he said, with enough patience for both of them.

            “She… Oh? Is this true?”

            I nodded slowly. “Not even… I mean, not even peaceful ones.”

            “Not a great first experience,” Varric muttered.

            “I see,” Cassandra said, relenting slightly. “Will you be able to continue?”

            I knew there was no real option not to. I knew I had to get close enough to the epicentre of that nightmare to try to close it. I knew the choice she was giving me wasn’t a real choice at all. But she bothered to ask, and she sounded genuinely sympathetic when she did, and I really appreciated that right then.

            Steeling myself, I willed back the horrified tears and said, “Yeah. Let’s get this done.”

*

                        Leliana joined us as we made our way inside the ruins, her people taking up positions all around the walls. When a voice started speaking out of the huge rift in the centre of the crater I flinched, but realistically it was no worse than hearing a voice over a loudspeaker, so I pressed on. Past the glowing red rocks that had Varric panicking (“Don’t touch it,” he said, as if I had any desire to start juggling burning hot magically radioactive rocks) and down onto the ground under that weird broken patch of air.

            My magic hand crackled, sending stinging pain across it like I’d shoved it into an ant’s nest, and figures appeared in the air – a hulking man (?) with glowing red eyes, and an elderly woman with the most amazing hat I’d ever seen. It made Roderick’s fancy outfit look like shit in comparison. The old lady called for someone to help her, and an elf jogged into the fuzzy scene, asking, “What’s going on here?” in a thick Irish brogue (I added that to the list of accents, and was starting to become mildly concerned that every single person I met would sound different, which I felt would become distracting).

            “You were there!” Cassandra gasped, grabbing my shoulder hard enough to bruise. “And Most Holy called out to you. But –”

            “That wasn’t her, Seeker.” Varric raised his hands to ward her off as she turned sharply towards him. “It was Lavellan. Aren’t you meant to be perceptive? As your actual job? Not only did the elf in that vision not move or sound like our one, but Dreamer here pretty clearly didn’t recognise Lavellan as herself.”

            Hang on, that elf had been Lavellan? I quickly looked back at the vision, but all of them – monster, Space Pope, new me – had vanished back into nothingness.

            “It’s true,” Cassandra breathed. “By the Maker, it’s really true.”

            Solas wandered back over from fucking about with his staff to interrupt, telling me I had to open the big rift in order to close the Breach properly. I didn’t fully follow his reasoning, but then he was the Fade expert (whatever the fuck that meant) and I was just a dumbass who’d gotten sucked down the universe’s plughole, so, whatever.

            There was one point I had to make, quietly, as everyone took up defensive positions in case something nasty popped out. “This will trap me here, won’t it? Closing the Breach? I know I have to do it, I know there’s no real choice, but… Just tell me the truth. Please.”

            Solas gave me a searching look. “If I told you letting the Breach expand would send you home,” he said slowly, “would you allow it to happen?”

            It was close enough to my earlier thoughts to spook me a little bit. After a moment I sighed and admitted, “No. I couldn’t. Not even to get home.”

            Before either of us could say anything more, Cassandra was yelling, and I reached out towards the big rift, reaching with my mind as well as my hand, only this time instead of willing it to close I willed it open, open, open…

            The air tore apart, and I had a split second to feel very proud of myself before a demon popped out. A demon almost as big as an elephant, crackling with energy and looking like a fursona on steroids.

            “Pride demon,” Solas said.

            Appropriately enough for a deadly sin, the Pride demon was what we’d call in the trade a ‘double-hard monster bastard’. But we fought it, all of us together, and somehow managed to take it down. Then, per Solas and Cassandra’s shouted instructions, I reached out to the Breach, this time willing it closed.

            There was more resistance to this one than there had been to any of the others, much more, so much it felt like my brain was going to come dribbling out of my ears. The stinging in my hand spread out to cover my whole body, my heart beating so hard I could feel my pulse in my eyeballs, and right before the world around me erupted into lemon-lime light I thought, “Wow, never mind getting home, this is going to kill me.”

            Then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

I jolted awake, woken by the tingling in my hand. I was, frankly, astonished to find myself alive and in one piece. After a brief moment of hoping everything had just been an especially vivid dream, I realised the wooden cabin I found myself in was more of a Breach-world place than a Welsh one. If I was back in Wales, I’d also been kidnapped in my sleep by some sort of woodsman. Seemed unlikely.

            At some point while I’d been unconscious, I’d been changed out of the green roughspun outfit (with chainmail accents) I’d worn on our trip up the mountain, and they’d put some sort of thermal leather pyjamas on me instead. Alright. Not what I’d have chosen, personally, but at least Ellana was lean enough to pull it off.

            Ellana. The thought had me stumbling to a nearby dressing table, which had a proper old-fashioned silver-backed-glass mirror on it, all ornate frame and patina around the edges. As desperate as I was to get there, once in front of the glass I couldn’t bring myself to look at first. Had to give myself a quick pep talk before I could bear to face my, you know, face.

            She was pretty. Not breathtaking or anything, but pretty, roundish chin with quite a sharp jaw. Pale, with a smattering of freckles over her nose and those high cheekbones. Her hair was a lot shorter than mine, chin-length, and it was a really beautiful rich red, shot through with strands of blonde and a coppery ginger.

            She also had a face tattoo, this pretty spiralling design in black ink that encircled her left eye, twisting down her cheek. Her right cheek was marred by a deep scar, a sort of upside-down y, the long end extending up over her eye to carve through her eyebrow. Whatever had caused it, she must have barely avoided losing the eye.

            As for her eyes, they weren’t mine, but I assumed they weren’t hers either. They were the same bright yellow-green as the rifts, as the Mark, almost fluorescent. They must have been changed when… when she’d… when I’d…

            A scream bubbled up from my chest, only being held at bay by the way my throat had closed up. In the mirror, Ellana Lavellan’s chest hitched with my attempts to catch my breath. Ellana Lavellan’s eyes welled with my tears of panic, frustration, dread. Her hand slowly rose to her face, short-trimmed nails digging into the scant meat of her cheeks, as I fought down the urge to rip that whole face off like a mask, hopefully to find my own face, my real face, underneath.

            The cabin door opening jolted me out of my trance. I just managed to fight back the incipient panic attack as a young woman walked in and, on realising I was awake, dropped to her knees and started begging my forgiveness.

            “It’s okay!” My voice came out weaker and waterier than intended. “Hey, you’re an elf too, aren’t you?”

            “Um. Yes, my lady? I hope that doesn’t displease you?”

            “No no no, not at all! I just meant, what with,” I gestured to my own new ears. I’d gotten a proper look at them now, and they put the discreet points of Lord of the Rings elves to shame, damn things were a full handspan long, like pink rabbit ears grafted onto the side of my head. “It’s just… Sorry, I don’t even know what I’m saying. That I won’t stand out so much if there’s other elves around, maybe.”

            “Uh. Yes, my lady, you won’t be the only elf in Haven. But the rest of us are city elves. Servants. You’ll be the only…” She trailed off, leaping back to her feet. “Excuse me, my lady, Seeker Cassandra will want to know you’ve awakened.”

            Before I could say anything else, she’d taken off back the way she’d come. I followed her, moving much slower. I’d clearly been asleep for a while, and my muscles all clicked and crackled with stiffness as I limped outside, finding myself in the same pretty medieval village I’d seen before… this time with what seemed to be the entire population lining the streets to stare at me.

            My immediate instinct was to duck back inside the cabin and slam the door. Maybe push something heavy in front of it for good measure. But no, couldn’t do that with everyone staring expectantly at me, and in fairness they were staring expectantly, rather than looking like they were conspiring to kill me the way they had been before. So instead, I set my new head high and strolled through those ranks of whispering gawkers, trying to look like I had any idea where I was going.

            I guessed if Cassandra was going to be anywhere, it would be the biggest building in the village, so that’s where I headed. Along the way, I kept my eyes peeled for anyone I recognised – Solas, Varric, I’d have been willing to speak to Hot Angry Guy right then, just so I wouldn’t be walking that gauntlet alone.

            But there was no one, only a sea of strangers, so I walked all the way to the big stone church-looking building by myself. Once inside, I could hear Cassandra’s voice, and Leliana’s, and Fancy Outfit Roderick’s, all raised. All yelling about me, because of course they were. I followed the shouting to a door at the very end of the hall, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

            “Chain her!” Roderick said immediately. Like, I don’t think he even really had time to register that I was there, the guy was just operating on some kind of dickhead autopilot. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”

            I barely had time to let out an aggrieved squawk before Cassandra jumped in, warding the guards behind me off with, “Disregard that, and leave us.”

            “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick sneered as the guards hastily left. I wished I was going with them. Just, you know, not in chains.

            “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” Cassandra said, squaring up to Rodders like she was about to start throwing hands, something I’d have paid to watch. If I had any money. Oh shit, I’d left my bank account in my other world. “I will not ignore it.”

            “I almost killed myself trying to close that bloody thing,” I pointed out, emboldened by the fact Cassandra appeared to be on my side.

            “And yet you still live! How convenient for you!”

            I could only stare incredulously at him for a bit, too stunned by such an amazing display of idiocy to speak. Eventually, in the voice you’d use to speak to the slowest of dumbasses, I said, “Yes, Roderick. The fact I only blacked out for days, rather than dropping dead of an embolism, is very convenient for me.” Then I gave Cassandra the most ‘can you believe this shit?’ look I could muster.

            “Enough,” she said, spooking me for a second, before I realised she was talking to Roderick again. “Emma has proven her trustworthiness to me. She, at least, has proven her commitment to our cause.”

            “What are you saying?” he demanded.

            “Someone set off the explosion at the Conclave,” Leliana cut in. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others… or have allies that yet live.”

            “I am a suspect?” Roderick burst out.

            Laughing right then couldn’t have endeared myself to him at all, but I couldn’t help it. Only a little snort, I wasn’t cackling or anything. Still, it was enough to make him puff up like an angry toad. Good. Fuck him.

            “You,” Leliana agreed, “and many others.”

            “But not the prisoner!”

            “I heard the voices in the temple,” Cassandra said. “I am convinced our prisoner is who she says – a soul from another world trapped in the body of the person closest to the explosion. As for Ellana Lavellan, Most Holy called out to her for help.”

            “This is nonsense –”

            “Your opinion on the matter has been noted, and disregarded.” God, I might have been falling in love with Cassandra. She was such a boss. “I believe Emma coming to us was an act of providence. She and her Mark have been sent to us by Andraste herself in our time of need.”

            That woke me up a bit. “Uh. That… I mean, I’m glad you don’t think I’m a terrorist anymore, but I wasn’t sent here by any sort of divine decree. I was just sleeping in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

            “I disagree,” Cassandra said firmly. She turned and grabbed a massive book covered in more metal than was typical of something you’d find in Waterstones, slamming it down on the big wooden table we’d all clustered around. “This is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn!”

            Ohhh, that didn’t sound great. I knew I was dealing with a whole different set of history and such out there, but when I heard “inquisition” my brain went straight to images of racks, thumbscrews, and the pear of agony. Still, I wasn’t about to argue with Cassandra and Leliana, they both seemed pretty jazzed about the idea.

            Roderick stomped off around that point, serving immense ‘my father will hear of this’ energy as he went. Meanwhile, Cassandra and Leliana launched into an explanation of the previous Inquisition, which they said was made up of “people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad”, something that sounded much less horrific than the name suggested.

            From there, they made it very clear that a) they saw me (or my Mark, at least) as the intended figurehead for the organisation, b) I was technically free to go, but c) not only did I have zero fucking clue about the world I was in, but there were a lot of people out there who thought the same way as Roderick.

            Essentially, either way, I was fucked.

            “Viva la Inquisition,” I said, wondering where Hot Angry Guy had gotten off to, and whether he’d be willing to smack me over the head hard enough to potentially send me home.

*

                        Apparently, being a figurehead meant my actual input wasn’t necessary in any of their planning, so Cassandra waved me away, telling me I should try to find Solas. Coming on the heels of being told a lot of people still wanted me dead, I had to admit to being a little unnerved by the prospect of wandering around on my own. As it turned out, I needn’t have been, since Solas was waiting right outside the meeting room.

            “I came looking for you when I heard you had awoken,” he said. “Though I thought it better not to interrupt your meeting. The Seeker has arranged for me to instruct you in the safe wielding of magic, as well as the necessary knowledge to assimilate into our world. I hope you have no objections?”

            “No, please, knowledge me up! I’m already sick of the fact that everything everyone says to me sounds like gibberish.”

            He smiled. “Well then, let us begin.”

            That first day, most of what I learned was basic shit – countries and regions, history, religion. By the end of the day I understood where we were (Frostback Mountains, between Orlais and Ferelden, Thedas), when we were (9:41 Dragon, and frankly I found the whole ‘naming the centuries’ thing charming, but there was absolutely no chance I’d ever learn all of them), and also why I was the only elf in town with rad face tats.

            “I probably shouldn’t call myself an elf, really, should I?” I said on the second day, as we trudged out into the mountains together. He’d said he wanted us to allow a ‘safe distance from populated areas’ for him to train me in magic, which boded well.

            “Why not?”

            “Well, I mean… I wasn’t one back home. It’s a whole history, right? Centuries of bullshit, and then Ellana will have spent a whole lifetime dealing with nonsense, so for me to just hop into her body and start calling myself an elf, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like I’m… claiming a history that isn’t really mine.”

            Solas didn’t respond for a while. Eventually he stopped, leaning on his staff. “To be frank, your feelings on the matter have little relevance.” He smiled to soften the words. “The world will look at you and see a branded face, pointed ears, and a staff. Unless you wish to adopt another accent, when you speak, they will hear a Dalish voice. You will learn quickly enough what it means to be an elf, whether you were raised one or no.”

            I drummed my fingers against my own staff for a moment. “Hm. You know, back home, I’m Welsh, right.”

“You might have mentioned it, yes,” he said with something of a smirk. Sassy bitch.

Giving him a look, I continued with, “We used to be all these different nations under one broader people, with our own rulers and language and legends. And then our next-door neighbour became an empire, and they invaded us and suppressed all that stuff. By my time there’s only something like a third of our people who can actually speak our language, because they tried so hard to stamp it out. I’ve been insulted, assaulted, heard endless ‘jokes’ about how I must be some stupid savage. All because of where I come from.”

            “Then yes,” Solas said, with something of a wry smile, “under the circumstances, I feel most would allow you to call yourself Elvhen without argument.”

            “I have your permission?” I grinned as I said it, but for some reason his smile faded.

            “You have it,” he said softly. “For what little that is worth.”

            Alright, something was clearly happening there, something I didn’t understand. Before I could decide whether to push him on it or not, I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look and let out a horrified yelp, stumbling back, unthinkingly putting Solas in front of me.

            “What the fuck is that?”

            Solas whipped around, staff crackling with energy as he scanned the snowy hillside, demanding, “What? What do you see?”

            “There, there, that thing! Jesus fuck, did someone skin a rabbit and then set it loose?”

            A frozen pause, before Solas threw his head back and howled with laughter, the sound echoing down the valley. I smacked him on the shoulder, staring fixedly at the horror still loppetting towards us.

            “Why are you laughing? Oh no, is that a thing it does? Is it a demon?”

            “It is a nug,” he choked out, pressing his hand over his eyes.

            “That tells me literally nothing!”

            “It is an animal, nothing more!” He’d have sounded more reassuring if he wasn’t still laughing at me, even if he was mostly down to chuckling and coughing by then. “That is how they are meant to look, though some come in different colours. They are utterly harmless, I assure you.”

            “Oh. Well, I suppose it’s not –”

            “Though some people find their hands unsettling.”

            “It has HANDS?”

            Thus was my planned magic lesson briefly put on hold in favour of a quick rundown on local fauna. I had to admit the handsy bunny-pig was weirdly cute, once I knew what it was, and since it seemed entirely nonthreatening, I was happy to leave it be.

            When we finally got around to my lesson, I turned out to be surprisingly good at magic, for someone who hadn’t even known it existed a week ago. Turned out I showed a particular affinity for lightning, which tickled me a bit. I’d always loved watching storms.

            “Always remember to hold something back,” Solas said after I set off a particularly impressive bolt of lightning. There was concern in his eyes, badly hidden, worrying me that I might have just almost killed myself without even realising it. “Picture your magic reserves as a well. You may draw from it, even draw deep, but always try to leave yourself something for the next time you visit. Try to use the least amount of power possible to accomplish your goals, in case you are surprised and need to push further unexpectedly. Does that make sense?”

            “Try to leave one in the chamber, right.” I set off another bolt of lightning, this one much smaller and more controlled.

            “Perfect. You have the makings of a fine war mage.”

            I lowered my staff and turned to see Solas looking a little sad again. “Is that… a bad thing?”

            “No, not at all. Forgive me, my mind had wandered, but that was a compliment. You have a great deal of power, and with the road you stand to walk, offensive magic will likely serve you best.”

            “Ellana must have been a real badass, eh?”

            “Yes. Remember, however, that there are still limits. You are able to wield a great deal of power, but push too far and it can have dire consequences.”

            “Don’t get cocky and burn out my borrowed brain, duly noted.”

            Solas nodded slowly, turning to stare out at the village with an expression so thoughtful I kept quiet, assuming he had something else to say. “Emma… I know it must be hard for you, adapting to a new world and a new body both, and it is good of you to be so concerned with honouring Ellana’s memory. But you cannot dwell overmuch on the specifics of how you came to be here. Hesitance and distraction can prove lethal, in politics and battle both.”

            “How can I not feel guilty?” I scoffed. “I’m wearing the poor girl.”

            “But you did not kill her,” he said sharply. “You did not ask for any of this to happen. You are a victim in this, just as she was. It is not your guilt to carry.”

            For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then, so quietly he could have pretended not to hear me, I said, “You can’t send me home, can you? Whether the Breach is closed or open, whether the world is here or sucked into the Fade, it makes no difference. I’m stuck here.”

            With a sigh, he sat down heavily in a snowbank. “No. I would have no idea how to go about doing so, whether the Breach is closed or open, here or in the Fade. That is not to say it would be entirely impossible – the Mark you bear has great power over the Fade, and nothing is inevitable. There is always the possibility that you might find your way into the Fade, then find the gap back into the Fade of your own world, locate your own sleeping body and slip your soul back inside…”

            “Yeah,” I sighed, “when you put it like that.”

            I trudged over to sit beside him, and there we stayed for a long while. I cried a little. That’s a lie. I cried a lot. I thought of all of them, my family, my friends, my darling idiot of a cat. All gone. Never to be seen again. Never to know what had happened to me. I briefly considered just running off into the hills, letting the cold take me. But no. That would do nothing for the people I’d left behind. All it would accomplish was making everything that had happened so far pointless. I had to make it all mean something.

            I’d just have to save the world, then.

            Solas seemed to know what I needed, and just sat there in comforting silence as I went through all five stages of grief at once, really speedrunning that shit. Occasionally he’d gently rest a hand on my shoulder. When I finally came out of my hysterics he was looking upwards, watching a flock of the weird crows they had there flying past.

            “Wish I could fly.” I tried to sound normal, and mostly succeeded. Mostly. “Is that a thing I could learn here? Ride the staff like a broomstick or something?”

            “Nothing like that,” he said, interrupting my disappointed sigh to add, “though some mages are able to shapeshift.”

            “Shapeshift? Shapeshift?” I grabbed him by the shoulders, my Animorphs-kid heart leaping. “Can I learn? Can I do it? Can you teach me, oh my God, can I do shapeshifting, please?”

            He shook his head with a chuckle, gently removing my grasping hands. “I cannot, sadly. However, I am aware of the theory behind the process, and I would be more than happy to teach you.”

            “Fuck yeah!”

            “One thing it is important to bear in mind is that anything much larger than yourself will require exponentially greater power expenditure, so becoming anything too large might cause you pain, if not kill you outright. Also, any injuries you sustain in your alternate shape will follow you when you change back.”

            “So, bear in mind that bears aren’t the best choice?” That made him give the sort of polite, strained smile I always got after dropping one of my puns back home, so, nice to see some things were the same. “I’ve always really liked wolves, like, loved them. But I guess fighting as a wolf means whoever I’m fighting has a chance to stick me in the ribs, so… Yeah, fine, let’s stick with birds. Mobile. Flying. Cool. A raven?”

            For my final hour of training, before it began to get dark and we had to start the long trudge back to Haven, Solas instructed me in the theory of changing my shape. I even managed it once, right before the sky began to tinge pink. As happy as I was, it turned out flying didn’t come naturally. After doing a few big fluttering hops that accomplished nothing more than sending myself crashing headfirst into the snow, Solas called an end to proceedings, probably because he was worried I was going to die of hypothermia.

            Hot Angry Guy was standing near the gates when we got back, calling orders to the people who were setting up a tent village around the outside of Haven’s walls, presumably for all the people not important enough to warrant actual houses. Poor sods. Part of me wanted to go over and say hello to the guy, or even just wave, but with the emotional rollercoaster I’d already been on that day I was afraid that if he so much as gave me a sharp look I’d dissolve into tears again, and we couldn’t have that. Couldn’t be melting down in front of a guy that hot, it didn’t bear thinking about.

            Instead, I put my head down and pretended I hadn’t noticed him, following Solas in through the main gates. Varric was waiting for us on the steps just inside, clapping me on the shoulder as he said, “There you are! Now you’re up and about, I thought you might enjoy a nice quiet evening in the tavern. I can even teach you to play Wicked Grace, what do you say?”

            “I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Solas said. When we both looked at him, he added, “I will have to decline, I am afraid, but it would be a good experience for Emma.”

            “Uh, I’m not –”

            Solas leaned in, lowering his voice. “I feel this would be better for you than sitting alone in your house, waiting for the sun to rise. You would benefit from some good cheer and companionship, and I fear I am inadequate to that task. Go with Varric. Have fun. I will meet you here tomorrow morning, to continue our studies.”

            I nodded, and he strode off into the village, leaving Varric to lead me to the tavern. As he sweet-talked the people at his favourite table into moving so we could sit there instead, I was more than a little anxious. I’d never been great at making new friends, always too shy to really put myself out there. My friends were mostly extroverts who felt sorry enough for me to let me hang around with them until I came out of my shell.

            That turned out to be a non-issue with Varric. While he talked enough for three people, he also proved remarkably adept at getting me to join in, cheerfully ploughing ahead even when my responses came out awkward and stilted. Of course, the ale he kept buying couldn’t have hurt. I’d always been a gregarious drunk.

            “Blew up a chantry?” I gasped, after he’d dropped another terrible tale of Kirkwall on me. “Hawke’s boyfriend blew up a chantry, and then she skipped town with him anyway?”

            “Hey, love makes us do strange things, Dreamer. Don’t tell me you’ve never done something you shouldn’t for love?”

            “I mean, yeah. I sort of became a bit of an alcoholic when I found out my first real girlfriend had been cheating on me. And then one time I walked for over an hour, on my own, at one in the morning, just to meet up with a guy I was sort of seeing.”

            “Well, there you go.”

            “But neither of them were domestic terrorists, Varric!” I said, laughing. I felt a brief clutch of panic, thinking that might have been a bit far, but he was laughing along.

            “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t excuse what Anders did, friend or otherwise. But those two are in love. Real love. I guess none of us know what we’d do unless we lived it.”

            I hummed, taking a sip of ale. “I can’t say I’d forgive a partner who screwed me over that hard, honestly. With that being said, I reckon if my sister or best mate or whoever blew up a church, then I’d probably be like ‘nah, she had her reasons’, so, yeah, I’m in no place to judge.”

            “Here’s to never needing to find out!” Varric raised his glass, and I obligingly clinked mine against it. “I’m telling you, one crazy friend trying to change the world by lighting fires is one too many. That’s aimed at you, by the way, Madam Face-Of-The-Inquisition.”

            “I think I’m technically the shiny hand of the Inquisition.” I waved the hand in question around, showing off the weird diamond-shaped scar in the palm, always gleaming with that lemon-lime light. “It makes a pretty good nightlight, actually. I think I could use it as a reading light, in a pinch.”

            “That’s the way, Dreamer. Always look on the bright side.”

            We both snickered at the pun, but fell silent as a woman stopped beside our table to hesitantly say, “My lady?” She was human, ruddy complexioned, with curly blonde hair cut short and a wicked scar on her chin.

            “What can we do for you, friend?” Varric asked, quickly realising that I’d frozen. Unexpected interaction + alcohol fog + suddenly remembering there were still people out there who wanted me dead had my brain locking up like a car on ice.  

            “My name is Bette, my lady. I’m the leader of the group of scouts you met in the mountain pass?”

            “Oh! Yeah, of course, sorry. There was a lot going on, and I’m not great with, like, recognising people out of context, but uh… Anyway, it’s great to see you again, are you doing okay?” 

            “Very well, my lady. Those of us who made it off the mountain are all doing well, thanks to you.”

            “Oh, no, I mean, I’m glad you’re alright, obviously, but I wouldn’t say –”

            “We know it was your choice to check the pass for us, my lady. Without you, we would have been left to fend for ourselves, and with that rift still spawning demons it was only a matter of time. You saved us.”

            “Oh,” I said in a little voice. Somehow, paradoxically, what she’d said made me feel infinitesimally small. I didn’t know if there were psychologists in Thedas, and maybe that was for the best. “Well, like I said, I’m glad. When I heard there were people still up there, I just… had to be sure, you know?”

            Without another word, she dropped to one knee, making me jump. “I am already pledged to the Inquisition, my lady, but please allow me to formally offer my blade to you, personally.”

            I gave Varric a wild-eyed look, only to realise he was having far too much fun at my expense and was going to be absolutely no help at all. So, falling back on my extensive knowledge of, uh, Game of Thrones, I put a hand on Bette’s shoulder and said, “Please, I didn’t save your life because I wanted anything from you in return. I did it because the alternative didn’t sit right with me.”

            “But that is exactly why I want to pledge myself to you, my lady!” she said earnestly, staring into my eyes with an intensity that made me want to look away and pinned me in place all at once. “Because I know you value people’s lives, so even should I die in your service it will mean something, rather than serving someone who would throw our lives away on a whim.”

            “Uh. Alright. As long as you’re sure.”

            “I am. We are. The survivors of my party feel the same way, and we have found some others who agree, to make up our numbers.”

            “Then I’d be, uh, honoured to have you in my service.”

            “The honour is ours, my lady.” She got back to her feet and, with a low bow, left. I turned back to Varric, wide-eyed, which set him cackling into his ale.

            “What the fuck just happened?”

            “You just acquired a personal guard, Dreamer.”

            “Yeah, I thought it was something like that. Oh shit, does this… Am I meant to pay them? I don’t have any money!”

            “Nah, they’ll still be operating under the banner of the Inquisition.” He waved a hand airily. “They’ll be your people in name only. Listen, I’ll have a word with the Seeker while you’re training tomorrow, get all this smoothed out. How does that sound?”

            “Thanks, Varric, mate, you don’t have to –”

            “It’s fine! Honestly, she’ll probably be glad to hear the shiny hand of the Inquisition is popular enough to have people swearing themselves into her service already.” He grinned. “And I get to be the one to tell her.”

            “If you’re sure…”

            “I am. Now, let’s play another hand. Time to see if you’ve actually learned anything today.”

Chapter Text

That day set the standard for how I spent my time over the week between the Inquisition being called and it beginning in earnest – wake up early, trudge out into the hills for mage-training, trudge back and spend the evening in the pub. Then I’d go to bed, sometimes have a bit of a cry, sometimes read (histories, legends, travelogues, always something nonfiction, always something to help understand my new world). Regular as clockwork, tick tock ‘til ale o’clock.

            Except for day five. On day five I came out of my house to find Solas waiting at my door, rather than at the top of the steps by the gate as usual. An elf woman stood beside him, lean and dark-haired with a beautiful vallaslin that looked like a willow tree branching over her forehead, and a staff at her back. I smiled, though quickly stopped when I registered how serious they looked.

            “Hi, Solas,” I said, picking at my thumbnail. “Everything alright?”

            “Good morning,” Solas said. “Emma, this is Deshanna Istimaethoriel. She is the Keeper of Clan Lavellan.”

            The world jerked around me, out of focus, into focus again. My stomach lurched, and as I forced out the words, “Andaran atish’an,” through numb lips, that strangling claustrophobia washed over me again – not my face, not my body, not my world, not me, not me, not me…

            Keeper Deshanna smiled a little, and in the same accent I’d heard Ellana using (it was giving Northern Ireland, maybe Coleraine) said, “I’d hoped we might talk, da’len. Privately.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose we probably should. Um, please, come inside. It’s warmer. A bit.”

            As she slipped past me, I looked back at Solas, who gave me a nod. “I will be right outside, should you need me.”

            Swallowing hard, I closed the door and went to sit on the bed, since there was only one chair and Deshanna was already using it. We just sat in silence for a while, because I couldn’t begin to think of anything to say to her. My attempt to avoid meeting her eyes was foiled when she put a hand under my chin and, gently but firmly, raised my face.

            “It’s true, then,” she sighed. “I’d hoped… I cannot say. That it was a lie, or misinterpretation. But I knew my Ellana better than anyone, and you aren’t her. A stranger, though not a spirit, wearing her face.”

            “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t want this, I’d never have… I’m just sorry. If I could give her back to you, I would.”

            “I know, da’len.” She moved her hand to cup my cheek, wiping my sudden tears away with her thumb. “I have spoken to your Keeper about the circumstances of your arrival. I know you have suffered your own loss, your own grief. I cannot bring myself to hate someone who is as much a victim of circumstance as Ellana herself.”

            “Would you tell me about her? All I know is she must have been brave, and kind.”

            She cocked her head. “And how would you know that?”

            “In the temple, or what’s left of it now, we saw… like a vision of what happened right before the explosion. Ellana was an elf, a Dalish elf, not to mention an apostate mage, surrounded by Chantry and templars, all of her own volition. She was meant to be staying undercover, just watching what happened, right? And still, when she heard someone calling for help, she ran right in. She didn’t have to, she could have pretended not to hear anything and walked away, but she didn’t. She tried to help.”

            I wasn’t the only one teary-eyed by then. Deshanna told me all about Ellana (I’d been right about something else – her eyes had been blue, not the Fade-green they were now), and I told her about my progress in magic training. It seemed our styles were similar, though Ellana preferred fire to lightning. The shapeshifting was something she’d never been interested in, however, leaning more towards Keeper-specific magic instead, healing and working with nature and such.

            Solas was still waiting outside when we emerged, sat on a crate reading a small book he slipped back into his pocket. Keeper Deshanna hugged me, which came as a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. Nodding to Solas, she turned back to me to say, “I understand that you have your own people here. But know that should you need us, Clan Lavellan will be there for you.”

            With that she was gone, striding off through the snow. I sat beside Solas with a sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face. “That was a lot.”

            “Are you alright?”

            “I feel a bit better in myself now. Less like a body-snatcher, at least. She kept calling me da’len, what’s that mean? Is it elven?”

            “Yes. It is a term of endearment used for those younger than you. Literally, it would translate into something like ‘little one’.”

            “Oh, I like that, that’s cute. I used to call my younger sister Little. She called me Large, because I was taller and older, not, like, as an insult.” Kicking my heels slowly against the crate, I added, “She called you my Keeper, too.”

            “I never named myself such,” he said with surprising force, enough that I blinked at him. He sighed. “I would not have you feel as though I am putting myself in a position of authority over you.”

            “But a Keeper’s also like a teacher, yeah? And that’s what you are to me. I don’t have much here, Solas. I’ve got you, Varric, a gang of lunatics who’ve pledged their lives to me, and a magic stick I found on a mountain. That’s it, that’s everything. So, if it’s all the same to you, you’re my Keeper.”

            “I stand so corrected.”

            “You’re sitting down.”

            “The sentiment remains the same.” Smiling, he got up and gestured towards the front gates. “Shall we?”

            That was the day I finally worked out how to fly. Soaring over the valley on raven wings, the whole world laid out below me, horizon to horizon. It was beautiful. Not especially colourful, what with all the snow, but still.

            And on the way back into Haven I risked a little wave at Hot Angry Guy, and he gave me a polite nod and smile in response. So overall, a decent day.

*

                        A week and a day after the Inquisition was called, Cassandra was waiting for me when I came back from training. After giving Solas a curt nod, she turned to me. “I hope your lessons have progressed well?”

            “Yeah, really well, actually. I know all about avoiding possession, and how to use a staff properly, and most importantly, how not to accidentally immolate anyone if I get emotional!”

            I’d probably been a bit too cheerful with that last part, judging by the way her eyebrows furrowed. I could have sworn I heard Solas snort. Nevertheless, Cassandra nodded and said, “Good. It is time to forge ahead. Please meet me at the doors of the chantry tomorrow morning, and I shall introduce you to the other leaders of the Inquisition.”

            “Okay, cool. Looking forward to it.” Once Cassandra had walked away, I turned to Solas. “Do you think they’re going to be mean?”

            “No more so than the Seeker, I’m sure. Perhaps it would be better to avoid the tavern tonight and get a good night’s rest instead.”

            “Yeah,” I sighed, “probably for the best.”

            “I will inform Varric. You know where I will be tomorrow. If you need to talk to someone after the meeting, I will be waiting.” He smiled. “Just in case they are mean.”

*

                        Cassandra met me at the chantry doors as promised, and we headed on inside. As we walked, she looked down at my hand. “Does it still hurt?”

            “Honestly, if it wasn’t for the glowing I’d have forgotten it was even there,” I admitted.

            “That’s good. I wouldn’t like for you to be in pain. Solas told me he believes it may be the key to sealing the Breach for good, now it is stable.”

            “Here’s hoping,” I mumbled.

            “And Varric tells me you have acquired an honour guard.”

            “Oh. Yeah. Listen, I don’t want you to think I’m going around poaching good Inquisition people, or –”

            “I think it is a fine idea. Once you venture further from Haven it will be easier to assign people to protect you if they are willing. If they are eager, so much the better. Now, let us call to order the first official meeting of the Inquisition.”

            She led me into the same room as before, small and stone-walled and containing a table that took up half the space, covered in a giant map. There were three people stood behind that table facing me; Leliana, who smiled and nodded; a pretty woman with black hair in a neat bun who was wearing just the gaudiest blue and gold dress; and Hot Angry Guy, who was looking just as hot, though much less angry. In fact, he was also smiling. At me, no less.

            “Emma Morgan,” Cassandra said, “may I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

            “Such as they are,” Hot Friendly Cullen said with a sigh. “We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

            “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

            “Andaran atish’an,” the pretty lady in the hideous dress said.

            “Oh!” I said, the back of my neck suddenly red hot. “Elven, uh, that’s really sweet of you, genuinely, but uh, Solas hasn’t actually gotten around to teaching me much elven yet, and I’ve never been that great at languages, and –”

            “I’m so sorry, my lady,” Josephine cut me off hastily. Her accent turned out to be a kind of quasi-Italian/Spanish deal, so, you know, add that to the list. I was sure it would make sense eventually. “That was the extent of my knowledge. I did not mean to embarrass you.”

            “No, no embarrassing,” I said, dying of embarrassment. “I just, I mean, I didn’t want you to go to the trouble of forming complete sentences or whatever when I wouldn’t even have… I mean, uh, it’s a real… real pleasure to meet you both.” Fucking kill me.

            “Likewise,” Cullen said warmly, still smiling, as if my brain hadn’t just fallen out onto the table right in front of them all.

            I mostly kept my mouth shut from there, as the others discussed the fact we needed to pour power into my Mark, or maybe that really we needed to suppress the Breach instead, so we needed to make contact with the mage rebellion, or maybe the templars, or maybe the mages, or maybe the templars, or…

            Afraid of looking like a halfwit again, I kept quiet until Josephine mentioned that I’d been ‘denounced by the Chantry’. Then I couldn’t help yelping, “Whuh? What’d I do? They still think I did the explosion?”

            “Some are calling you – a Dalish elf, for all intents and purposes – the ‘Herald of Andraste’,” she explained. “That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harbouring you.”

            “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra said, giving me a sidelong look. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt, earning the barest of smiles.

            “It limits our options,” Josephine pressed on. “Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

            “Could we maybe circle back to the part where I’m the Herald of Andraste?” I said, hoping I didn’t look as dizzy as I felt.

            “People saw what you did, in closing the rifts,” Cassandra said. “They have also heard that there was a woman behind you when you came out of the Breach. They believe this to be Andraste.”

            “Even if we tried to quell the rumours –”

            “Which we have not,” Cassandra cut Leliana off, and they gave each other a look.

            “The point is, everyone is talking about you,” Leliana finished sourly.

            “It’s quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen said. He had a nice voice when he wasn’t yelling, soft and sort of rich. God, how was I so down bad for him so fast? Thank Christ he was wearing gloves, if I could see his hands I’d probably have jumped the table. “How do you feel about all this?”

             Our eyes met, and I had to battle to keep my words from turning to mush. With a Herculean effort, I managed to mumble, “It’s a lot, if I’m being honest. For one thing, I’m very much not from around here, so the idea of one of your religious figures choosing me as her… uh… chosen, or whatever, is a lot to take in. I didn’t even know I came out of a rift, was I conscious when that happened, or…?”

            “Yes, briefly,” Cassandra said. “You have no memory of this?”

            “Nothing until the chantry basement. And from what Solas says, I must have taken up residence pretty much as soon as the explosion went off.” I sighed, rubbing my eye. “Memory loss, then, on top of everything. Stunning.”

            “Given the circumstances, a certain amount of memory loss might not be too unusual,” Cullen said gently. “Sometimes when something is too much to bear, our mind chooses not to.”

            I smiled shyly at him. “Thanks. But I, uh, if there’s people out there like Roderick, kicking up a fuss because my name’s attached to the Inquisition… I mean, would it be better for everyone if I wasn’t here?”

            I said it like the thought of leaving, of walking out into those snowy mountains all alone, didn’t make me feel sick. Where could I even go? Maybe I could talk Cassandra into releasing Varric as well, and he could take me back to Kirkwall with him, another stray to add to his coterie of weirdoes. That might not be so –

            “No!” Cullen said sharply. Clearing his throat, he added in a more reasonable tone, “We would have been censured no matter what. And your not being here… isn’t an option.”

            “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted, at least,” I said weakly. Cullen laughed. I laughed. We were both bright red. I was genuinely in awe that two people could be so fucking awkward.

            “There is something you can do,” Leliana said after a pause, sounding like she was similarly awed but trying to cover it. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you.”

            That was that. Mother Giselle was off somewhere called the Hinterlands, so that’s where I was headed. I finally got a chance to speak to the guy I liked, and as a result I was immediately exiled to the godforsaken, war-torn wilderness. My game was just that good.

            I didn’t have anything to my name but a few extra pairs of clothes, plus my staff, so packing when I got back to my cabin was easy enough. Just stuffed the clothes in a backpack that had been left out for me, swung the staff over my shoulder, and stepped outside to find Solas and Varric waiting for me, similarly kitted out for travel.

            “You lads are getting exiled to the Hinterlands too?”

            “Of course!” Varric said brightly. “Can’t let you run off and have all the fun, can we?”

            It was almost enough to make a girl go all weepy, pathetic as that sounds. “Thanks, boys,” I managed to mumble without my voice wobbling too much. We headed off to the meeting point, the bridge near the village which Cassandra referred to as the Penitent’s Crossing, which was where I realised we were joining a wagon train. “Oh, thank Christ!” I said, louder than intended.

            “I take it you aren’t familiar with riding a horse?” Cullen asked, appearing from the milling crowd.

            “Honestly, I just thought I was going to have to walk the whole way,” I admitted. “The horse thing is a new fear to have, though. Damn, I’m going to have to learn how to ride a horse at some point, aren’t I?”

            “One thing at a time,” Cullen chuckled. “For the moment, your carriage awaits, my lady.”

            He held out a hand, steadying me as I stepped up into my ‘carriage’, which was actually a basic open-top cart lined with straw. Held my hand and helped me up, like a knight in a story. My legs went so rubbery I almost tumbled straight back out, but I managed to drop down opposite Solas and Varric, my face feeling very hot.

            “Take care of yourself, and, uh, everything,” I said.

            “Be safe out there.” He looked like he might have said more, but that’s when Cassandra came by on her own horse, yelling at everyone. Instead, he nodded and smiled, and before long we’d left Cullen and Haven behind in the snow.

Chapter Text

The Hinterlands turned out to be quite a pretty part of the world, once we got there. It felt weirdly like home, all rolling green hills and an abundance of sheep-adjacent-things (they looked kind of like goats and Solas called them rams, but they were the size of ponies and snorted like horses, so, fucked if I knew what they were, at that point I was just glad they didn’t have hands).

            It was quiet out there, too. At first, anyway. We set up camp and met with this scout the local team had acquired, this cute little red-headed dwarf who introduced herself as Harding. According to the other Inquisition soldiers, she’d turned up the day after they set up camp, offering her services as scout, making it very clear she wasn’t going to be turned away. She also didn’t seem too phased about the glowy hand. I liked her.

            From there, we set off down a grassy hill, following her directions towards the tiny crossroads village where we were due to be meeting Mother Giselle. Given I’d spent my entire life in Thedas on a freezing, snow-covered mountain, I was having a surprisingly fun time out there. Cassandra was marching along with her hand on her sword hilt, Bette and her team seemed to be trying to look in all directions at once, meanwhile I was skipping through the grass with Solas teaching me the names and uses of various Thedosian plants while Varric tried to talk me into reading his novels, rather than just The Tale of the Champion.

            “Why that one, of all my books?” he asked. “Not that I think it’s my worst, that honour goes to Swords and Shields –” I noticed Cassandra spin around at that and worried we were being attacked, but she turned back just as quickly and nobody else seemed to notice, so I didn’t mention it. “—but all the same, most of my readers prefer Hard in Hightown.”

            “I’m not much for crime novels,” I admitted. “And the Tale is nonfiction. I thought it would help me understand stuff.”

            “And did it?”

            “It helped me understand that Kirkwall was a bloody nightmare.”

            “Oh good, then it did its job.”

            “Commander Cullen was in Kirkwall too, was he not?” Solas asked, watching a nug hop past with a faint smile.

            “He was indeed,” Varric said. “Worked under Crazy Meredith herself. Thankfully, he seems to have mellowed out since leaving the city. But I guess, who among us hasn’t?”

            “Hang on,” I said, “the Cullen in your book is our Cullen?”

            “One and the same!”

            Varric spoke as brightly as ever, not seeming to realise how the information had hit me. Because it was a hell of a blow, finding out the guy I’d developed a giant crush on was also virulently anti-mage. I thought back to his obvious dislike of me outside the temple, before Cassandra decided I was basically indispensable, and my stomach lurched. Was the polite friendliness nothing more than an act? Just something he was putting on to keep me on side? I’d thought the blushing and awkwardness was because he might be starting on a little crush of his own, but what if he was just upset at having to pretend not to hate me? Suddenly I felt small and stupid and pathetic.

            That’s when we reached the crossroads, and shit really hit the fan.

            “We are not rebel mages!” Cassandra yelled as a group of people, men and women, charged towards us with their swords raised.

            “They don’t seem to be listening, Seeker.” Varric unlimbered Bianca, slipping neatly back into the narrower confines of the pass we’d just emerged from, a natural choke point.

            To my own shame, I froze, and Solas had to shove me in after Varric. It was such a silly thing – I’d fought so many demons on the way to the Breach, after all. But they’d been so monstrous, the situation so outside my frame of reference, it had all felt more like a nightmare than reality. I’d barely taken anything in.

            That battle, though, in a quaint little village set in a valley that might have been home, in broad daylight, with our opponents nothing more fantastical than men and women with cold steel in their hands… that was something else. That was real. Cold, hard reality.

            My involvement didn’t seem to be required at first. Cassandra and my scouts fought well, taking down templar after templar, blood and viscera staining the lush grass and shallow water underfoot. Solas kept them well covered with barriers, until even he was sweating with the effort, while Varric rained hell down across the field with Bianca. It looked like I might just be there to spectate, given Solas had deemed my own attempts at barriers as not being sturdy enough to risk in a crisis.

            Then I realised Solas’ attention had wavered, just a little, just enough that one of Bette’s men, this city elf guy called Marcus, wasn’t properly protected. One of the templars picked up on it right away and charged straight for Marcus, who was distracted, sword locked with another. I yelled something inarticulate, extended my staff, and shot lightning into the charging templar, who crumpled to the ground in a charred, smoking heap.

            All around me, the world seemed to recede and become crystal clear all at once. I froze again, though not for as long as before. As if that first death had broken a dam in me, I began to fight in earnest, lightning lancing across the battlefield to strike people down. They tried suppressing me, I felt it happen, like a wet cloth laid over a grease fire, but I think I must have been more powerful than they expected. By the time they realised, they were dead. One by one, by my hand or those of my team, they died. Eventually, we were the only ones standing.

            “Is everyone alright?” Cassandra demanded after despatching the last of them. She spoke to everyone, but looked for me in particular, still huddled behind Solas and Varric as I was.

            “Didn’t lose a man,” Bette said, wiping her brow with the back of one hand.

            “Might have lost me, if it wasn’t for the Herald,” Marcus said, coming over to slap me on the back with a beaming grin. “Ma serannas, lethallan.”

            “Just glad you’re still here,” I said with what I hoped would pass for a smile, slinging my staff up onto my back with trembling fingers.

            “Not as glad as I am!” Marcus said cheerfully, booming out a laugh before he moved off to see to his friend Gael, who’d taken a flesh wound to the arm.

            “I will speak to the refugees,” Cassandra said, “see if Mother Giselle is among them.” She paused, still eyeing me closely. “Perhaps you gentlemen could find a quiet place indoors for the Herald while you wait.”

            “Sure thing, Seeker.”

            Varric patted me as he passed, and I followed him mechanically, Solas trailing behind. We headed up some steps to a cabin that was sparsely furnished, yet comfortable. I sat down on the bed, took a deep breath, and burst into tears.

            “Whoa! Hey, Dreamer, what’s with the cloudburst?”

            “I believe this is why Seeker Pentaghast sent us away from prying eyes. Master Tethras, might I ask you to step out for a moment?”

            “Sure thing, Chuckles, but if you need someone with actual experience in the field of cheering people up, I’ll be right outside.”

            The door closed behind him, and as Solas came to sit beside me, I choked out, “I swear, I hardly ever cried before I got here. I used to be pretty mellow.”

            “What troubles you, da’len?”

            “I just killed people.” I forced myself to be calm enough for the words to make sense, willed myself intelligible. “There’s four men lying dead out there because of me. Everything they were, everything they might have been, all gone. Their families… their families will never know… And I know it’s stupid and pathetic to be sad about that, I know it was us or them, and if I hadn’t done it Marcus would be dead, maybe even more of us, but –”

            “Do not ever feel that grieving for a life you have taken is stupid, or shameful.” His voice was soft as ever, but right then it was all steel underneath. “Yes, you should not feel guilt for necessary death delivered in battle, nor should you ever let anticipation of that grief prevent you from doing what you must to keep yourself safe. But the day you stop seeing the killing of an enemy as a necessary evil is the day you reduce the people around you to no more than things. Emma.” He waited for me to look up at him. “Remember this feeling. You stand amongst the highest ranked members of the Inquisition. They heed your voice. When the time comes to make decisions, for your own people and those who oppose you, remember this moment. Remember the first life you ever took. Do not allow yourself to become just another despot, who views the lives of those around them as no more than pieces on a board.”

            Rubbing my eyes with a watery little chuckle, I said, “I promise, if I ever get the barest scrap of power, I’ll keep being miserable.”

            “Excellent.”

*

                        The actual meeting with Mother Giselle went surprisingly well. She seemed like a decent sort, with a big fancy hat and a refreshingly positive attitude towards mages, at least so far as allowing them to heal refugees and such. Then it was time to go back to Haven.

            No, seriously. We travelled for days, killed a whole bunch of people, picked up a nice lady in a stellar hat, then turned around and went right home, like the world’s least fun school trip. We did also assign people to help out a local horsemaster in an attempt to get him to send us horses, I guess, and also sent some people out looking for food and blankets for the refugees. Oh, and I made a quick visit to this cult out in the hills, which I thought sounded like a terrible idea, but when I closed a rift in front of them they decided to start helping the refugees in my name, so, that was nice.

            We also fought five bears. Five. That wasn’t counting the additional eight we saw at a distance and desperately avoided. Bloody Hinterlands.

            Anyway, we returned to Haven just in time to walk into a screaming match between a mage, an ex-templar, Cullen, and Roderick, who was back from fucking off. For just a moment when I heard the commotion, I thought it might be a welcome home party or something. That was some fun emotional whiplash.

            Cullen seemed to be trying to catch my eye as the crowd dispersed, but with my new knowledge about his time in Kirkwall I didn’t want to risk talking to him right then. I’d always struggled with hiding my feelings, which had only seemed to get worse since I’d ended up in Thedas, and we still needed to be able to work together. Probably best to let things settle before our next conversation. Instead, I headed straight into a meeting with The Ladies Who Got Shit Done.

            It was something of a whistle-stop talk – good job on recruiting Mama G, and the cult to boot, thanks bunches, now you’re going to Val Royeaux to get yelled at by a bunch of angry Chantry people, oh and if you could swing by the Hinterlands again and try to find this one Grey Warden guy because the rest have all disappeared and that’s kind of weird, that would be great, kay thanks byeeeee…

            After it was all over, I went to stand outside, by which time the angry villagers had thankfully dispersed, and I managed to take one deep, cleansing breath before a quiet voice said, “Uh, s’cuse me, ser. I’ve been trying to find someone in charge to talk to and I’ve just been given the runaround.”

            I turned to the speaker – a cute human guy only a little taller than me, wearing a very nice suit of armour – and admitted, “Well, I’m Emma Morgan, the, uh, Heraldy-type person. If you’ve got a message for the top brass, I can pass it along? They might listen if it comes from me, maybe.”

            His eyes widened, and I was worried he was about to either start gushing, or maybe attack me. Thankfully he reined it in before doing either. “Good to meet you, my lady. I’m Cremisius Aclassi – Krem – and I’m here representing the mercenary captain The Iron Bull. He got word of Tevinter nationalists massing out on the Storm Coast, and wanted you to know, no strings attached. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers have to offer, meet us there and find out.”

            “Right. Um. It’s just… I sort of have a meeting to get shouted at by ladies in silly hats over in Val Royeaux, and it’ll be a while before we can even set out for that, because we’ve just got back and all, and that sounds like something I’d be interested in, personally, but it’s not like I’ve got a lot of say here, and –”

            “No problem there, my lady,” Krem said hastily, seemingly realising I was spiralling. “They’re not coming for a week or so, and there’s a few groups of them coming in separate ships. If you’re happy for me to speak to whoever’s in charge of your schedule, I think we can work something out that suits everyone.”

            It was only as I was introducing Krem to Josephine that I realised I had no idea why I was doing it. Some pretty boy gave me the doe eyes as he told me his merc band wanted to work with me, and I just rolled with it immediately. Still, Josephine seemed happy to hear the offer, given she sent me straight out to grab Leliana for planning, so I must have done something right.

            By then I was so tired I was ready to crawl into bed, never mind that it was the middle of the day. Talking to people was tiring. Worse than talking to people was cart travel. You know how even being the passenger on a long car journey can be weirdly exhausting? All you’ve done is sit there and stare out the window, maybe had a bit of a karaoke session, but still, you get to the other side and you’re knackered? Cart was worse. Cart was much worse. Probably because you got thrown around more.

            That’s why, when I reached the door of my cabin only to hear, “Ah, there you are!” I nearly screamed.

            “Hello, Cullen.” It came out sharper than I’d intended, judging by the brief flash of hurt confusion on his face. God help me, I’m such a wuss – even knowing the Kirkwall stuff, I couldn’t bear being mean to someone who wasn’t actively being mean to me first. Hitching a smile into place, I said, “Long trip, sorry. What’s up?”

            “Cassandra suggested I give you a brief riding lesson, while we still have some daylight.” My change in tone must have worked, because he was smiling again too. “You’ll be leaving before Master Dennet and the horses arrive, but the Seeker would prefer for you to have a grasp of the basics by then, and given you have a free afternoon…”

            “Cassandra hates to see people sitting idle, doesn’t she?”

            “It’s the training,” he said apologetically. “Never waste a moment that could be better spent on self-improvement. Shall we?”

            Cullen led me to a sort of corral beside the blacksmiths, where the handful of horses the Inquisition had already managed to get hold of were being kept. One horse had been brought out and tied to the railings, standing there placidly as we walked up. I knew just enough about horses to recognise her as a bay, and I could make a decent guess at her being a mare, but as for what type of horse she was, I had no idea. Closer to a shire horse than a racehorse, that was the best I could say, though she wasn’t quite as thick-legged as an actual shire horse.

            “She’s gorgeous,” I said, stroking her neck.

            “She is,” Cullen agreed, busying himself with the stirrups. “We’ve been together since Kirkwall, Honey and I. Haven’t we, girl?” He patted her shoulder, and she leaned against him with a huff. “Now, how much experience do you have with horses?”

            “Very little that’s of any use,” I admitted. “My mother –” I had to take a breath against the sudden slash of grief. What a wonder it was, all the ways something like that could creep up on you. All the ways memory could turn, like a knife held carelessly, and carve you open before you even realised you were in danger. Clearing my throat, I pressed on. “My mother loves riding. She stables a horse with a friend, I think they’ve got part shares in him or something. I’ve ridden a few times, but always when I was a kid, and she’d either be up there with me or walking next to us, holding the reins.”

            “I see.” His eyes, which looked especially amber in the afternoon sunlight, were soft and sad, which I took to mean I hadn’t hidden my grief as well as I’d hoped. “Well then, we can take things one step at a time. Firstly, let’s get you seated.”

            It took surprisingly little assistance for me to make my way up, despite my newly stubby legs, though I did give it a bit too much juice and would have toppled headfirst over the other side if Cullen hadn’t grabbed my belt and yanked me back, something he politely pretended not to have noticed. We walked slowly to the Penitent’s Crossing, following the well-trodden path of compacted snow, with Cullen on foot beside me to give the occasional pointer on how I should be holding the reins, or a better way to sit.

            As unfailingly polite as he was, I didn’t allow myself to get all giggly and red, the way I wanted to. Not now I knew. I watched him closely the whole time, searching for any gaps in that polite façade, any sign of him being secretly disgusted by my mageness. By the time we reached the bridge, which was empty but for us, I hadn’t noticed anything obvious.

            “Aren’t your hands cold?” he asked suddenly.

            “Hm?” I stupidly looked down at my hands, which were admittedly quite red from exposure to the icy air. “Ah, right. A bit, yeah, but I’ve always had this… issue with stuff touching my hands. Mostly my fingers, really, like my fingertips, you know? It’s a sensory thing. I’m also not a fan of hats, scarves, socks if I’m indoors…”

            “It might be worth investing in some fingerless gloves, at least. Keep you as warm as possible, as well as making this a little less obvious.” He took my Marked hand between his gloved ones and turned it over to look at the wounded palm, then went still. Again, I stared hard at him, searching for any sign at all, of disgust, distaste, whatever. Instead, softly and with what seemed to be complete earnestness, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

            “Isn’t that the rub?” I snorted. He looked up at me, confused, and I explained, “It used to. Really badly. Like… fire and ice and acid, all at once. But over time, it… it’s like it’s hurting less, but going deeper. When I first woke up, I’d have sworn I was going to look down and see the skin splitting, or the meat melting off the bone. Now it’s more like an ache, and it’s further in, like… a bone I broke weeks ago. But that’s only when I use it. Unless I’m actively messing with rifts, I could forget it was even there. Well, apart from the glow.”

            “It is quite eye-catching,” he said wryly. Tracing gloved fingers gently over my chilled skin, he followed the lacework of green that had spiderwebbed out from the Mark, staining the veins all the way down past my wrist. “This is odd. It’s almost like –”

            “Blood poisoning,” I agreed, leaning over to get a better look at it myself. “Yeah. It hasn’t spread at all since I woke up after trying to close the Breach, so I’m hoping whatever Solas did when I was asleep stopped it, but I’m keeping an eye on it anyway.”

            “Better safe than sorry,” he said, nodding. “Regular blood poisoning is no joke. I can only imagine what the magical version could do to a person.”

            “Yeah,” I snorted. After a moment, not sure why I was saying it, I added, “I actually had it once, back home. The regular kind of blood poisoning, I mean. Cut my thumb getting something out of a cabinet and didn’t even bother to rinse it off. Next thing I knew the thumb’s all puffy and purple, and there’s this dull red tint to all the veins up to about my mid-forearm.”

            “You have healers in your world, I take it?”

            “Yeah, but I didn’t bother seeing one. Just reopened the wound and dunked my hand in a bowl of peroxide until it stopped stinging. Stung all the way up to my wrist, too. Then I just did that a few times until the redness went away.” I laughed at the look of shock on his face. “I was nineteen, convinced dying was something only older people did, and I had better things to do than hang around in a doctor’s surgery waiting for a prescription. Besides, you can’t mix antibiotics with alcohol.”

            “That was madness!” Cullen said, almost laughing.

            “Fucking worked though!” I said cheerfully, which made him laugh outright.

            Shaking his head, he looked up as I looked down, and for a second our gazes met and held, our faces very close together. Then he dropped my hand like it was on fire and stepped back smartly, putting distance between us as I blinked in surprise, slowly pulling my hand back into my lap.

            “Perhaps you should try a trot on the way back,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly all cool professionalism.

            “I’ll give it a go,” I said, matching his tone as I nudged Honey into turning. There I was looking for ‘little tells’ that he might not like me, only for the man to physically recoil after touching me.

            I really should have just gone to bed.

Chapter Text

Cart again, cart again, jiggety jig. We shook, rattled, and rolled all the way through Orlais to Val Royeaux. I’d heard Bette and her team (Fereldans all) talking shit about Orlais the whole time I’d known them, making disparaging comments about the city in particular, until I went into the place expecting something even less impressive than Newport.

            So, despite the fact one of our forward scouts warned us on arrival that we were pretty much walking into a lynch mob, I couldn’t really care, because it turned out that Val Royeaux was absolutely gorgeous. Gleaming white marble and glinting gilding, blue enamel and fluttering banners, it was without doubt the most beautiful city I’d ever seen. As I walked into the baying crowd that surrounded the shouting Chantry woman, I was staring open-mouthed at the buildings like the hick I was deep down. Everything was concrete and glass where I’d come from. Grey, grey, more grey. Maybe I could talk Cassandra into letting me do a bit of sightseeing afterwards.

            The little rally we were there to attend didn’t go great. The Revered Mother shouted at me for a while, and I couldn’t shout back, since all those staring eyes made me so tongue-tied I just stood there, turning red. Then a guy who was apparently Cassandra’s boss, Lord Seeker Lucious, turned up and sucker-punched the Mother. Boss man didn’t stick around much longer after that, the dramatic bitch, he just pulled a “templars, roll out!” and marched straight out of there. Cassandra asked why he’d even bothered to turn up, and the guy, no word of a lie, smugly and loudly announced he was there to “listen to the wailing of women, and. To. LAUGH.” I barely managed to resist laughing in his face. Weird, weird guy.

            So, didn’t make any friends there. As we were leaving, however, an arrow thudded into the marble at my feet, and after I stopped screaming I realised it held a note inviting me to a meeting at some villa north of the city. Then I got an invitation from some ‘Madame de Fer’ to a party at a mansion in the same sort of area (Cassandra confirmed we’d be able to hit both places, while still making our rendezvous with the Chargers). Then an elf woman stopped me as we were leaving town, introduced herself as Fiona, the leader of the rebel mages, and invited me to meet with them in Redcliffe.

            For those keeping score, that meant two people with power now openly hated me, versus three potential new allies. Plus, I got to see Val Royeaux. It wasn’t the worst day I’d had since getting to Thedas, overall.

            Turning up to a proper rich person gala in nothing more than my cleanest set of road clothes was a tad embarrassing, admittedly. Not that I looked like a scruff, exactly, my go-to outfit was a sort of snatched-waist top with a leather jacket that had a long flappy tail, plus the closest thing to jeans I’d seen over there, so, pretty snazzy gear for a medieval world. Still, not what you’d call gala-worthy.

            Surprisingly, the first people I bumped into in my search for Madame de Fer were nice to me, despite my being so dressed down (the man called me dashing, the woman called me darling, I blushed, it was sweet). Then some guy challenged me to an honest-to-God duel, but before I even had a chance to accept a woman turned up, froze him (with literal ice), and offered to kill him for me. I turned her down, partly because murdering a guy for being mean to me at a party seemed a tad extreme, partly because I’d played enough Dishonored to understand the concept of a cruel mercy, and letting him leave humiliated was more fun.

            The lady, Vivienne, took me off upstairs for a private conversation afterwards, and I instantly began to feel inadequate again. She was so refined, all high cheekbones and violet eyes and a voice that wouldn’t have been out of place in Buckingham Palace. She said she wanted to bring sympathetic nobility to the Inquisition. Who was I to turn her away?

            “Oh, no my dear, I’m afraid that doesn’t appeal at all,” she said when I told her about our itinerary. “I have never enjoyed sea travel, and Fiona and I simply do not see eye-to-eye. No, my dear,” she patted my forearm in a friendly sort of way, “I believe I shall see out my hostess duties tonight, to allow the servants time to pack, and then make my own way to Haven, where I shall await your return. With your leave, of course, darling?”

            “Of course, yeah, whatever works best for you!” I said, feeling a little like I’d been mown down by a velvet steamroller.

            No time to worry about that, anyway. Cassandra hung back to discuss plans with Vivienne’s head of staff, under the assumption that the lads and I were capable of handling another quick meeting with an interested party. Not a bad assumption to make, given I’d just recruited a mage with significant social standing all on my lonesome, but it still gave me a warm feeling, knowing she trusted me to get shit done.

            Shame it was a trap, really. As soon as we walked through the front gates people started firing arrows at us. We fought our way through to the apparent owner of the villa, some dickhead who greeted us with a fireball and a rant about how much time, money, and effort the Inquisition must have expended to find him.

            “I don’t even know who you are!”

            “Impossible! You could never –”

            He broke off as a woman with a longbow appeared through a door behind him, a tall elf younger than me with blonde hair cut so short and so badly I could only assume she’d chopped it off herself without the benefit of a mirror. “Just say ‘what’,” she said.

            Old Fireball Dickhead said, “What is the –” at which point she shot him in the mouth. The fucking mouth.

            “Was this specifically a problem with him, or are we next?” I asked cautiously as she strolled over to yank her arrow out of the guy’s face.

            “Nah, you’re alright,” she said casually. “This guy was just… aaand you’re an elf. Well. Hope you’re not… too elfy.”

            I swear, I heard Solas pull a bitchface. I hastily tried to cover the moment with a laugh that bordered on the manic and said, “Oh mate, you have no idea. Who are you, by the way?”

            Sera, as she turned out to be called, then broke into one of the most stream-of-consciousness rants I’d ever been subjected to, full of wordplay and references that presumably made sense to her, but which sounded next door to gibberish to me. I was briefly concerned one of us was having a stronk, until I risked a glance at Varric and found him looking equally mystified.

            When she finally stopped talking, I hazarded, “You’re saying you want to join the Inquisition?”

            “That’s what I’ve been saying, innit?”

            “Is it?” Varric said under his breath, prompting a snort from Solas.

            “Okay,” I said, “cool. How do you feel about ships?”

            Returning to Cassandra that time felt less like I’d brought a valuable ally into the fold, and more like I’d turned up with a feral cat in a sack. Sera crawled straight into the back of the cart, covered herself with straw, and fell asleep.

            “Have you ever heard of a group called the Red Jennies?” I asked Cassandra quietly.

            “By reputation, yes. While they seem to be far from a tightly knit organisation, they would be better to have on our side than working against us.” She patted my shoulder. “Good work for one evening. Now, get some rest.”

            The lads and I grabbed a musty, worn old blanket each, crawled into the bed of the cart after Sera, and we all fell asleep together like puppies in a basket.

*

                        As tight as we stayed to our itinerary, we still very nearly missed our meeting with the Chargers. Our ship came into shore about fifty metres down from the skirmish we were there for, a mix of Inquisition agents, people in a black uniform I assumed were the Tevinter nationalists, and people in no uniform at all who must have been the Chargers.

            “Join us when you can!” I called, before vaulting the side of the ship, turning into a bird, and bee-lining for the battle. It was only when I heard Varric and Cassandra cry out behind me that I realised nobody except Solas knew about the shapeshifting thing. Probably should have mentioned that at some point. Whoops.

            Long story short, we mopped the floor with the Tevinter. Honestly, it seemed like the Chargers could probably have dealt with the Vints on their own, so the local Inquisition force plus my little gang was maybe overkill. In the end, all but two of the bodies on the ground were wearing black, and they were both from the local Inquisition team. The Chargers had a few wounded, but they hadn’t lost a man.

            “Hi Krem!” I sidled up to the only person I recognised, avoiding eye contact with anyone else, standard house party protocol. “Good to see you again, glad you’re safe.”

            “Thanks, my lady, you too. Hey, Chief, this is the Herald. My lady Herald, this is The Iron Bull, leader of the Chargers.” He smiled, nodded, and wandered off. “I’ll get to work on those casks, Chief.”

            Fuck knows how I hadn’t noticed the guy before. I always seemed to get tunnel vision in battle (not that I had much experience, obviously), not quite red mist but close. Even so, you’d think I’d have picked up on a seven-foot-tall, grey-skinned, half naked guy with a massive set of horns and an eyepatch. I’d heard about Qunari while learning about the world, obviously, but I just… having no frame of reference, I suppose I hadn’t been able to really conceptualise them. Now I was face to, well, nipples, with a horned giant, and I got it.

            Horns!

            “So, you’re the Herald of Andraste, huh?” he boomed, taking a seat on some rocks. “A Dalish elf. Man, Chantry must love you.”

            “You heard about my appointment to get shouted at by a Revered Mother, then?”

            “No, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

            I remained standing for our conversation, so we could stay eye-to-eye. I might not have been into big guys (though I had a few friends back home who’d have gone feral over him), but even so, I could barely hear him over his tits.

            The upshot of our little meeting was that he was happy for the Chargers to be folded into the Inquisition’s mercenary forces, while he personally intended on being my ‘frontline bodyguard’. Cool, given he was more than twice my size I doubted anyone would be able to get around him to hit me. Oh, and he was a spy for the Qunari, too. There was that.

            “Hm. I feel like that’s something you weren’t supposed to tell me,” I said.

            “Like that’s the sort of thing I could keep from something called the Inquisition,” he scoffed. “You’d have found out eventually, and you’d have been pissed off. It’s better this way. Besides, my people are willing to share information with your spymaster, as part of the deal. They’re as worried about the situation as you guys are.”

            I couldn’t help glancing over at Cassandra, who was lingering nearby, not close enough to obviously be interfering, just near enough to hear what was going on. She shrugged.

            “In that case,” I said, “welcome aboard.”

Chapter Text

Bull joined us in the cart, making me briefly concerned for the horses, but they turned out to be surprisingly sturdy. As we rattled our way down to Redcliffe, he started pushing me to share songs from back home.

            “Tavern-worthy ones, obviously,” Sera put in before I even had a chance to come up with something.

            “Right!” Bull agreed. “Something fun!”

            That kept us distracted for a while. Especially me. You know that thing where someone asks what your favourite book or film is, and your brain immediately falls out of your head? That, but with the added layer of ‘how the fuck does one explain dubstep to medieval people?’

            I went for sharing all the folk and folk adjacent songs I could think of – Wayfaring Stranger, Wellerman, Lifeboat Man, Rocky Road To Dublin, anything I thought would benefit from being sung by someone who couldn’t sing very well and had only a cart for accompaniment. They seemed to like my choices well enough, at least. Wellerman and Rocky Road went over best, even if they didn’t understand all the references to Irish stuff (nice to get my own back a bit), and also I wasn’t even sure whether they had whales in Thedas. They probably had some horrible nightmare version, with shark teeth and hands instead of fins.

            We finally rolled up to the gates of Redcliffe, putting down a few demons and the rift that horked them up as we did. The locals at the gate were duly impressed.

            “There was something curious about this rift,” Solas mused as Cassandra strode off to speak to some of our scouts. “Did you notice?”

            “It was to do with time, wasn’t it?” I said. “A demon was coming at me, hit one of those glowy patches, and suddenly it was barely moving.”

            “Lucky,” Sera snorted from where she sat oiling her bow. “The one I got sped up when it hit a thing. Ugh.”

            “What could do that?” I asked. “Was I doing it somehow?”

            “No,” Solas said. “It was caused by the rift. As for how it occurred, I could not say.”

            “Great,” Bull grumbled, “time-travelling demons, just what we needed.”

            “Things are indeed strange.” Cassandra turned up beside us again with a face like thunder. “Our scouts have informed me that we were, in fact, not expected.”

            “But Fiona invited us here,” I said. “What, did she come all the way back from Val Royeaux and then just not bother to tell anyone else why she went there?”

            “The man I spoke to said we could discuss the matter with Fiona,” Cassandra continued, her tone suggesting someone was in for a good punching sometime soon. “She is in the tavern. She was previously a guest at the castle, but now the rebel mages are led by a Tevinter magister who resides there instead.”

            “Why… but… when?” I blithered.

            “That is what I would like to know,” Cassandra said severely.

            “We won’t learn anything lingering here,” Solas said.

            “Town full of mages, great,” Sera muttered.

            “Why don’t you hang back, stay with Bette and everyone,” I said. “I… want to keep people I trust at the gate, in case we have to leave in a hurry. Make sure the exit stays clear, you know?”

            “Oh, yeah! I can do that! Piece of piss!”

            “That was elegantly done,” Solas said quietly as we headed down the hill into the town proper. “Sera does not risk causing a diplomatic incident with the mages, yet she also does not feel slighted.”

            “Just seemed the right thing to do,” I said with a shrug.

            “Then perhaps you have a natural talent for diplomacy.”

            I snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

            As we walked into the tavern together my heart was pounding, my regular ‘meeting new people’ anxiety mixing with… well, everything else. There were various patrons milling around, all of whom hurriedly scuttled aside as I walked in, leaving me with just Fiona and two other enchanters.

            “Hi,” I said, offering her a little wave.

            “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” she said. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

            We were back in ‘does one of us have a brain injury’ territory. I couldn’t even fathom a response at first. I risked a glance at Cassandra, then Solas, but both were clearly waiting for me to say something, so I went with, “Your invitation? The one you came all the way to Val Royeaux to give me? Not even a week ago?”

            “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux for some time,” she said, looking about as bewildered as I felt, which only made things weirder. At least if she’d been lying or something it would have been one thing, but she genuinely seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.

            And then, just when I thought things were as bad as they were going to get, Magister Gereon Alexius walked in. As soon as I saw him, before the first word even left his mouth, all the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Then he started speaking, and instantly I got such rancid ‘secretly evil advisor in a fantasy movie’ vibes I almost turned around and left right then and there.

            But we still needed the mages to help us, so I sat down across a table from that Grima Wormtongue motherfucker and listened to him talk about how the mages were going to be conscripted into the Tevinter army (not just the men, but the women, and the children too), and how he’d somehow managed to turn up at Redcliffe pretty much the same day as the Conclave explosion, and the whole time I was sat there in utter disbelief like, “Am I the problem here? Is it just me?”

            By the time his son, Felix, fell on me as part of a plan to palm me a note telling me I was in danger, I was just relieved that yeah, I’d called it right. Alexius immediately dragged Felix (plus Fiona and her entourage) out to the castle, and I shared the note with my team. “You are in danger, come to the chantry.”

            “Trap,” Bull and Varric said in unison.

            “Probably,” I sighed. “This whole town is starting to feel like a trap at this point. What do you think, Cass, is it worth risking?”

            She grunted. “I cannot imagine any good coming from it. But anyone who wished to ambush us has already passed up a fine opportunity to do so, and I do not trust this magister. If there is a possible ally here –”

            “And if it is a trap, we just kill everyone,” Bull said.

            “Quite,” Cassandra huffed.

            On our way out some human guy with a forehead tattoo stopped me to ask about the Inquisition. It took a second to recognise the style of tattoo (and his weirdly flat affect) as being that of a Tranquil. I tried not to look as pitying as I felt, even though I knew he wasn’t capable of caring whether I pitied him or not.

            “I can mix potions,” he said as I made to leave. “I can be of use to the Inquisition. Alexius doesn’t like to see Tranquil. We are no longer welcome in the village.”

            “Yeah, we’d be glad to have you,” I said immediately. “Grab your things and head up to the main gates, there’s an Inquisition camp there. Tell them Emma sent you. Bring any other Tranquil in the village you think might want to get out as well.”

            “Yes, ser, I will. Thank you.”

            It was only as he was walking away that I realised taking him onboard probably wasn’t my choice to make. I turned to Cassandra and said, “Sorry, I should have –”

            “You acquired an extra hand for the Inquisition, and potentially saved that poor man’s life,” she said. “I would have made the same choice. When we return to Haven, the young man, and anyone else he brings with him, can be assigned to researcher Minaeve.”

            I smiled. “Just so long as I’m not in trouble.”

*

                        Stepping inside the village chantry, I think we were all expecting to be jumped by a dozen Tevinter mages. Instead, we found one guy, a fuckload of demons, and more of those weird timey-wimey rifts.

            “Good, you’re finally here!” the lone guy said cheerfully. “Help me close this, would you?”

            So we did. Killed the demons. Closed the rift. Then the lone guy turned, and I finally got a good look at him – light brown skin, thick dark hair, blue-grey eyes, with a carefully styled moustache and the most phenomenal bone structure.

            Time stopped. Heart lurched. Mouth went dry. Brain stopped responding.

            Deep Trouble Spotted.

            “Fascinating!” Hot New Guy, who was giving me Freddie Mercury vibes, slung his staff over his shoulder while peering closely at me. “How does that work, exactly?"

            “Fucked if I know, mate,” I admitted, waving my magic hand around awkwardly. “I just point it at a rift, hope for the best, and boom, closed.”

            “Very forthright of you, I must say,” he said with a grin. “I’d likely have made something up.”

            “Making something up just leads to follow-up questions. Then you’ve got to make stuff up to answer those, it just goes on and on. ‘Fucked if I know’ tends to forestall any further queries.”

            “Ah, good-looking and astute? With the addition of that miracle hand, you really are quite the package, aren’t you?”

            I went so hot I was sure I was about to burst into flames, which, you know, that was a genuine concern with magic and all. I was almost certainly as red as my hair by then. Words weren’t wording, either, one hot guy said something nice to me and my brain immediately turned to pudding. I just made a sound like “fnuhr” and flapped my hands around in what I hoped was a modest way. Pathetic.

            “Who are you, exactly?" Cassandra asked the guy, giving me a look that eloquently said she wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

            “Dorian, of House Pavus. Most recently of Minrathous.” He sketched a quick bow. “How do you do?”

            “Another Tevinter,” Cassandra grunted. “Be cautious.”

            “You always have to watch the pretty ones,” Bull agreed in a mutter.

            In that case, this guy needed plenty of watching, and I was fully prepared to devote myself to that task. It turned out he used to be Alexius’ protégé, was good friends with Felix, and oh yeah, he knew how the Fiona nonsense happened, and it was because Alexius had fucked with time. Because that was a possibility now, apparently. Time magic. That’s what was causing the weird speed-up-slow-down time rifts, too. Every day was a fun day in Thedas. Always horrible new things to learn.

            At least Dorian agreed to come back to Haven with us, disgruntled as everyone else might have been about that. Within an hour we were back on the road. An hour after that, we’d stopped to pick up the Warden loose in the Hinterlands, Blackwall, who had no idea where the other Grey Wardens had disappeared to, but who wanted to join the Inquisition himself all the same.

We were going to need a bigger cart, if I kept it up.

Chapter Text

I was actually starting to think of Haven as home. Freezing and isolated as it might have been, walking out of my cottage door the day after we got back from the Hinterlands (only two bear attacks that trip) was almost as comfortingly familiar as walking out of my front door back at my real home. I walked through the village to the chantry, nodding to people who were now familiar and no longer wanted me dead, walking a path I could have followed blindfolded. It was a strange thing to realise, but not unwelcome.

            I’d barely gotten through the chantry doors before Vivienne called my name, patting a chair beside her in the cosy little nook she’d staked out for herself. “I’ve been waiting for you, darling! Come, let’s have a chat.”

            Obediently, I sat, trying to look friendly and relaxed, despite the fact her whole demeanour was triggering the old ‘girl-bullied all through comprehensive school’ circuits. Still, she smiled warmly and offered me wine. I wasn’t usually a wine fan (especially not at 9am), but after taking a polite sip I found it to be sweet and crisp.

            “Oh wow, this is actually delicious,” I said.

            “It is a Montsimmard white, 9:21 Dragon. I uncorked it specially to celebrate our alliance, my dear. Now, you must tell me, given your unique perspective on the matter – what is your view of the Circles?”

            “Um. Am I really the best person to ask?”

            “My dear, not only are you the Herald of Andraste, you are able to approach the question of the Circles without the same prejudices someone born in Thedas would bring to the discussion.” She refilled my glass. “As you clearly hold some sway over the top minds of the Inquisition, I thought it might be worthwhile to discuss your stance on the matter.”

            I had to fight to keep from chugging each new glass she poured me. The wine was the perfect mix of sweet and tart, and each sip made me feel slightly less scared of her. “I understand you’re a fan of the system yourself?”

            “I believe it was foolish to break something that had worked for centuries, barring the actions of a few bad apples.” Suddenly there was steel under the silk of her voice, a cutting edge to her friendly smile. “The Circle was hardly a prison –”

            “Seems some people felt it was.”

            Her lips tightened. “Some people would have done well to remember the towers were there for our safety, as much as the common man’s.”

            “Right, right, but…” I took another long sip to give myself time to get my thoughts in order. “Maybe it’s that separation that’s the problem, you know, like maybe people wouldn’t be so scared and angry about mages if they actually spent time around them.”

            “Familiarity breeds contempt, darling.”

            “Yeah, but understanding a thing usually makes it less scary.”

            “You’re saying mages should be permitted to remain in public?” she said sharply. “Despite the obvious danger an untrained mage poses to himself, not to mention everyone around him.”

            “No, no, I’m saying…” What the fuck was I saying? How was half the bottle gone already, when Vivienne seemed to have barely touched her own glass? “I’m saying, maybe instead of locking all mages away in isolated towers and only letting a handful out if they end up being exceptionally useful, we should be treating Circles like centres of learning instead, with the intention of training them up and putting them to work. Anyone who proves they can’t be trusted or who can’t control themselves properly would have to stay in the Circle all their lives, for everyone’s safety, but I’d imagine the majority of mages could go on to be, like… healers, and advisors, and, I don’t know, soldiers. They could have jobs, you know? And the more regular people saw them out, working their jobs, the more used to them they’d get, until suddenly that’s the way things have always been.”

            She regarded me thoughtfully over the rim of her own half-full glass. “But surely that would make us no better than Tevinter?”

            “Not unless everyone was also doing blood magic en masse,” I scoffed. “If that’s something you’re worried about, leave in the part about mages not being allowed into positions of authority or whatever, fine. I just think… imagine if every village had a mage healer, not just an herbalist. If town guardsmen went to work with barriers to protect them. Everyone seems to be talking about this stuff like it has to be total freedom or endless incarceration, but what if we tried a bit of compromise instead?”

            “That is exactly why I wanted your opinion, darling.” The steel in her voice had disappeared again as she held her glass out to me. “Outside context thinking. A return to the old ways, in order to move forward.”

            I was pretty sure she was asking me to toast something more restrictive than I’d actually suggested, but I tapped my glass to hers all the same. I certainly wasn’t going to be making sense for very much longer, the wine hitting my empty stomach and bouncing straight to my head. I hung around for just long enough to be polite, then walked briskly to the old healer’s hut outside the village where, hidden from the training camp by the cover of trees, I spectacularly threw up.

            “Maker’s breath,” a surprised voice said behind me. “I hope you aren’t ill, Herald.”

            Of course it was Cullen. I was on my knees, spraying wine into the snow like a firehose, more than a little drunk (and it still wasn’t even 10am), and of course it had to be Cullen who found me.

            “I saw you come past looking… off,” he said, dropping to one knee beside me, one hand hesitantly reaching towards my back, like he wasn’t sure if he could touch me. “I thought I would… Should I send for apothecary Adan? Or Solas, maybe?”

            “Vivienne gave me wine,” I gurgled.

            “Oh? Oh! Perhaps I shan’t trouble them, in that case.”

            I snorted. “She wanted to pick my brain about the Circles, and I’m assuming she wanted my honest, unfiltered responses.”

            “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he muttered. After a pause, he added, “What were those honest, unfiltered responses, if I might ask?”

            So I told him, as best I could, bringing up a little more wine in the middle, which he graciously pretended not to notice. I expected him to be dismissive of my thoughts, or even combative, but instead he seemed to be giving the whole thing genuine consideration.

            “It would be difficult to convince the mages to return to the Circles at first, even if we made it clear that was a temporary measure while we arranged for their… Secondments? Placements?” he mused. “With the way things stand at present, they would likely view it as imprisonment by another name. But overall, I feel the idea has some merit.”

            “Oh,” I said, staring at him, still waiting for him to dismiss the idea, or start ranting about how mages needed to be contained.

            Cullen picked up on it, cocking his head at me. “What?”

            “No, nothing, nothing. It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be on board, is all.”

            “Because I was a templar?” he said, moderately aggrieved. “I’m not entirely unreasonable, you know. If we can devise a compromise that keeps people – mages included – safe, while preventing mages from becoming abominations, then I’m all for it.”

            “Okay,” I said. “That’s good to know. And reassuring, that I haven’t come up with something completely stupid.”

            “Not at all,” he said firmly. “Now, are you feeling well enough to return to the village? I don’t know about you, but I am far too cold for comfort.”

            I laughed softly. “Give me a second, don’t want the public seeing me in this state.” I pressed a handful of clean snow to my forehead, hoping the headache I was developing was caused by throwing up, rather than an immediate hangover. “Jesus Christ, this was a bad idea.”

            “I’ve heard you say that before,” Cullen said. “I take it that’s an oath of some sort in your world?”

            No idea what he meant at first. When it hit me, I laughed again. “Oh, right, Jesus, yeah. Funny thing, I’m not really a believer, it’s just, you know, something you say. He was sort of like our Andraste, thinking about it, like, someone who was meant to be in some way divine who ended up dying for people’s sins. Except he was a man. So he was like a… Mandraste.”

            At best I was expecting a polite chuckle, more likely the pained grimace usually reserved for puns. Given it was a religion-based pun, I would also have expected a short lecture on impiety. I was a little surprised, then, when Cullen responded by really, properly laughing, going scarlet in the process. I giggled along, then allowed him to pull me to my feet.

            He started walking me back to Haven, and I couldn’t help taking glances up at him. God, he was pretty. He had this scar on his top lip, and all I wanted to do right then was run my thumb over it. Then kiss it. Why did I have to read Varric’s stupid book? If I didn’t know anything about Kirkwall… Whatever. Couldn’t be helped.

            As we came into view of the gates, Solas, who was lingering out front with Varric, waved me over. Exchanging a nod and a smile with Cullen, I ambled over to join them.

            “I hear you had a discussion with Vivienne,” Solas said as soon as I came within earshot.

            “Looks like it was quite the meeting,” Varric grinned.

            “Don’t get me started,” I said, managing a chuckle. At least I was mostly empty by then. Shame about the headache.

*

                        I did some more training with Solas that day, trying (and failing) to improve my ability to cast barriers. I told him about my Circle idea, and he deemed it “potentially better than the alternatives”, which was about the best I could have expected.

            Varric again intercepted us on our way into Haven. “There you are! How do you feel about some hair of the dog?”

            I glanced up at Solas. “You up for the tavern?”

            “You enjoy yourself, da’len.” He patted my shoulder. “I plan on retiring for the evening.”

            Wishing him goodnight, I followed Varric to the tavern, where I was greeted by a wall of noise so great I’d probably have backed straight out if Varric didn’t know me well enough to already have an arm around me, steering me inside. Bastard.

            “Hey, Boss!” Bull yelled as he spotted us, shoving Rocky, the Chargers’ dwarven sapper, off the seat beside him. “Take a seat, first round’s on me!”

            Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall were all clustered around the same table, while the Chargers were mingling with Bette and her crew around the room. Marcus was in a corner, very enthusiastically making out with the Charger I’d only heard referred to as Dalish, the only other person in town who wore vallaslin.

            “Are we actually trying to take on a bunch of bloody mages?” Sera demanded as soon as I sat down. “Aren’t the mages we’ve already got more than enough?”

            “I’m honoured that you think I have the power to rival an entire village-worth of mages, Sera,” Dorian said, placing a hand over his heart. “But tragically, you have overestimated my abilities.”

            “What?” Sera pulled a face. “No, I mean, like, we’ve got, what, half a dozen mages now. You’re telling me that’s not enough to close that big rift thingy?”

            “It’ll probably take a few more people, yeah,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Got to charge up the old magic hand, you know how it is.”

            “And you lot, and Solas, aren’t enough to do that?”

            “Alas, we are not,” Dorian said.

            Sera grunted. “What’s the point of having you around then?” she said, which set Blackwall off laughing. He had a great laugh, suited him perfectly – rough and gruff and like he’d just gotten off a truly great-horrible pun. Coupled with the big black beard, ruddy face, and the fact he looked to be in his late forties, he gave me immeasurable Dad Vibes.

            “I’m here because they literally won’t let me leave.” I waved my magic hand again. “Can’t tell you everyone else’s excuses.”

            “Clearly I’m here to bring a certain level of panache to proceedings,” Dorian said.

            “A role you perform admirably,” I put in, feeling myself immediately turn scarlet when he responded with a wink.

            “Chuckles is here to keep Dreamer’s magic hand from unravelling the world by mistake,” Varric said.

            “Vivienne’s mostly around the remind the rest of us of our stations in life,” Blackwall added.

            “And Dalish is here because her clan was sick of looking at her,” Bull said. “Right, Dalish?”

            Dalish detached from Marcus for just long enough to call over, “I’m not a mage.”

            “Sure you’re not,” Bull chuckled.

            Sera had watched all this unfold with a look of befuddlement. Now she said, “You lot don’t half talk weird.”

            I genuinely thought Blackwall was going to choke.

*

                        A few days later I was heading out to meet with Solas when Leliana intercepted me, jumping down from where her tent was set up as she called my name. I stopped, instantly worried I might have somehow done something wrong without realising it. Instead, she said, “A letter has arrived for you. We are having a meeting to discuss it. Would you be able to summon Dorian while I seek the commander?”

            “Yeah, of course.” She looked in a bit of a rush, so I didn’t waste time asking why we were having an emergency summit over my mail. I assumed they’d tell me when I needed to know. “See you in a minute, now.”

            Once she was on her way I headed over to the little house Solas, Varric, and Dorian shared and knocked. It was Solas who answered, looking surprised to see me.

            “I thought we were meeting at the gate?”

            “I’m here for Dorian, actually. We’ve been summoned to some big meeting, for whatever reason.”

            “Oh,” Solas said, “of course.”

            “We’ll probably just be discussing Redcliffe and Alexius,” Dorian said, appearing beside Solas and patting his shoulder as he slipped out to join me. “All things not pertaining to the Fade, and so surely of no interest to yourself.”

            Solas looked very much like a man about to go off on one, so I cut in before he could. “They said something about a letter, so yeah, probably some boring meeting about Redcliffe. I’ll meet up with you after?”

            He nodded. “Alright, da’len. I will be waiting here, should you need me.”

            As Dorian and I set off towards the chantry together, he said, “Well, that was surprisingly tense.”

            “I think he’s worried about what would happen to him – an elven apostate – if the people at the top ever stop finding him useful.” I rubbed at my Marked hand. “Can’t blame him, really.”

            “I wouldn’t worry about yourself, my friend. You’re gifted, intelligent, and attractive. They’d be fools not to keep you around.”

            God, I was giggling like a schoolgirl, it was embarrassing but I couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re pretty safe on those fronts yourself.”

            “That goes without saying. No wonder we’ve been summoned to their little meeting, really, it truly wouldn’t be an event without us.”

            There wasn’t anything I could think to say before we reached the meeting room, my brain opting to fall out of my head again instead. It only got worse when Cullen followed us in on Leliana’s heels. Two hot guys, both of whom left me a blushing, breathless mess individually, both in the same enclosed space with me. I barely even heard Josephine as she explained that we were there thanks to a letter Alexius had sent me… though I zoned back in sharpish at the word ‘trap’.

            “Being cordially invited to what’s probably a trap again,” I said with a snort. “Great. Though last time I walked into a probable trap I found this guy,” I hooked a thumb at Dorian, making him chuckle, “so unfortunately I think I’m a little tempted.”

            “Flattered as I am, he’s certainly planning on killing you, at the very least,” Dorian said.

            “He’s right,” Cullen said, his voice tight. “Alexius has requested your presence inside a castle he now has total control over, a castle which has never fallen to invaders. If you go in there, you will be going in without an army, and you will die, and I… We will lose our only hope of ending the threat of the Breach for good.”

            “Alright, but if I don’t go, do you really think he’s going to accept my rejection and leave it there?” I shrugged. “Like, ‘fair cop, you got me, foiled again!’ or what? He doesn’t just have an army of Tevinter nationalists at his disposal, he’s got all the rebel mages. If it comes to a fight, can we stand against something like that?”

            “The templars –”

            “The templars told me to fuck off, Cullen! They came all the way to Val Royeaux specifically to tell me to get fucked, alright? The templars, quite frankly, seem about as likely to murder me on sight as Alexius. The rebel mages seem like a better bet to help with the Breach, so long as we can get them out from under the Vints.”

            “And what makes you so sure the mages are the better option?”

            “Solas is certain. That’s good enough for me.”

            Bafflingly, he looked hurt at that. “I see,” he said softly, looking away from me, one hand rubbing at the back of his head.

            “For what it’s worth, I also believe empowering the Mark with more mages is the better option,” Dorian said. “However, I do have to agree that walking into that castle with anything short of an army would be tantamount to suicide.”

            “And as we’ve established, there is no way to sneak an army into that castle,” Josephine sighed.

            “That may not be the case,” Leliana said. “There is a secret tunnel beneath the castle. It was intended to be used by the family, should they need to escape, but it can just as easily be used to gain entry, and so few people know of its existence it is unlikely to be guarded. A small force could –”

            “You would be stopped long before you made it to Alexius,” Cullen broke in.

            “Not if there was a distraction,” she said, looking pointedly at me. “Say, the very person he wishes to trap walking in through the front doors?”

            “You’re saying we use Emma as bait?” Cullen cried.

            “Allow her to walk into a trap in order to spring one of our own,” Cassandra said thoughtfully. “The idea is interesting.”

            “It’s madness!” Cullen protested. “You’re saying we take the one person we know he wants dead, and we send her in there by herself –”

            “She would not be alone, Cullen,” Cassandra said sternly. “I would of course be by her side the whole time.”

            “But you cannot –”

            “Do I not get a say in this?” I asked, shutting them up immediately. “I mean, I’m the one who’d be putting my life on the line for this plan, right?”

            “Of course,” Cullen said, throwing Cassandra and Leliana dark looks. “It’s your life you’d be risking. We wouldn’t force you to do anything like this against your will.”

            “Well, that’s good to know. I’m going into the castle, though. I have to,” I said, speaking louder to cut off his spluttered protests. “We need those mages. Almost as important as that, those mages don’t deserve to be enslaved by Tevinter. If we do this right, the Breach gets closed, the mages are safe and working for the Inquisition, and Alexius gets to rot in a dungeon somewhere.”

            “If we do this wrong, you die,” Cullen said bluntly.

            With the best attempt at a smile I could manage under the circumstances, I said, “So, let’s make sure we get things right. Alexius knows I’m from another world, right? Well, I can’t have a private meeting with him in that case, can I? I need my various advisors with me, to make sure I understand what’s going on.”

            “Very good,” Cassandra said. “Bette and her team can remain just outside, as a show of minding what they ask of us. They can secure the main entrance while Leliana’s team make their way inside.”

            “While I sneak in and neutralise Alexius’ nasty little trinket,” Dorian said with a smile and a nod. “I do so love a plan with a lot of moving parts.”

            “You’re certain you’re willing to put yourself in danger like this?” Cullen asked quietly, coming around the table to stand beside me as the ladies started laying out more specific plans.

            Part of me wanted to snap at him, but when I looked into his eyes, they were so earnestly troubled that I found I couldn’t. Instead, I smiled, patted his hand, and said, “Yeah, I’m certain.”

            I mean, it’s not really a lie if it’s to save someone’s feelings, is it?

Chapter Text

Things went astonishingly well at first, which should really have been my first warning. I showed up at the castle right on time, accompanied by Bette’s people, along with Cassandra, Solas, Varric, and the Bull – I reasoned that the Right Hand of the Divine, my elven mage mentor, and renowned author Varric Tethras could all be considered ‘indispensable’ to the poor lost lamb from another world, while Bull was clearly born to be a personal bodyguard.

            Besides, we were still just five people walking into a castle crammed with Tevinter nationalists, who Dorian said called themselves Venatori. We made it to the throne room, where Alexius was waiting, without incident. I did get a bit thrown off when I tried to play it cool, stalling for time, only to have Felix come right out and tell his dad why I was really there, but given Dorian turned up a second later (having been smuggled in earlier by Felix) and Leliana sprang her own trap not a minute after that, I was only thrown off very briefly.

            Yes. It was all just going too well.

            “No!” Alexius yelled once he realised we had him outclassed, pulling out this floating metal cube that glowed an eerie sort of bluey-green. “The Elder One will not be denied!”

            Dorian slipped in front of me before I could react, sending a lash of energy towards Alexius. The glow from his Lament Configuration-looking thingy leapt across the hall, enveloping me and Dorian and sending us flying. The last thing I heard before the rush of air grew so loud it deafened me was Solas yelling my name. Then there was just the rumble of a tornado, and my own bewildered shrieks.

*

                        I landed heavily on a stone floor, flooded knee-deep in stagnant water. As the dizziness began to recede, and my ears stopped ringing, I realised Dorian was right there with me. I also noticed that despite the fact he was soaked and shaking and should have looked like a drowned rat (as I did), he instead looked like he’d just escaped a nautical-themed GQ photoshoot.

            Before either of us could speak, the heavy wooden door to the basement room we’d found ourselves in flew open, and two guys in truly ridiculous helmets rushed in, yelling shit like, “Blood of the Elder One!” which was a new one for me. Whatever it meant, they tried to stab us, so we killed them, pulling a keyring from the bigger one’s pocket.

            “Dorian, where are we?”

            He went into some ramble I probably would have struggled to follow even at the best of times, though I understood the end result well enough – “It’s not just space, we’ve also moved in time!”

            “What?”

            “Alexius must have been trying to remove you from the timeline entirely. I countered it, the spell went rogue, and here we are. Make sense?”

            “No.”

            “Oh, well –”

            “No, we can’t have. We can’t. It. No, no, fuck no, not again, I’m not fucking starting over AGAIN, fuck, no!”

            “Hey, hey, calm down.” Dorian looked deeply concerned as I leant over, wheezing with my hands braced against my knees. “There’s no need for… Maker, are you quite alright?”

            “Back home we’d call this a panic attack.” I managed to force myself upright, one hand pressed to the centre of my chest, willing the pain and tightness to ease up, willing the tears away. “I’m sorry. I know I should be all stoic and shit, the Herald of Andraste. But I’ve already lost everything. Everything, my own body included. And now, just as I’m getting settled in, I lose everything, again. This can’t keep fucking happening!”

            “Listen to me, my friend.” Dorian took both my hands in his, leaning down slightly to look me in the eyes. “I understand. But I will not allow us to remain trapped here. Whether we’ve been sent forwards or backwards, if I can get hold of the little trinket Alexius used to send us here, I should be able to work some magic and send us straight home. But I need you to work with me to get us there, yes?”

            “Yes.” I took one long, deep breath, held it, and let it out. “Okay. I’m okay.” As we set out into the ruined corridors of what Dorian assured me was the Redcliffe Castle dungeons, I quietly said, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

            Dorian let out a little chuckle. “Emma, dear, I’ve come a few thousand miles south, and the culture shock has almost done me in a dozen times over already. Fereldan ‘cuisine’ alone has driven me to tears on more than one occasion. Given you have world-hopped, and now also time-travelled, I think you can permit yourself a moment of hysteria.”

            “Maybe you can write me out a voucher or something. ‘Good for one free crash-out’, that sort of thing.” I looked up at him. “The food really is fucking awful here, isn’t it?”

            “I have genuinely never seen the like.”

            “I don’t like to complain, since they’re feeding me for free, but… So, it’s not like this everywhere, then? Tevinter food has like… flavour, and stuff?”

            “I’m almost certain it’s Ferelden-specific.”

            “Oh, thank God.”

            We both laughed quietly, something that dried up immediately when we looked into a cell to discover Grand Enchanter Fiona fused to the rear wall of her cell by red lyrium. It looked like the stuff had erupted out of her, bursting through her chest and stomach and legs, growing into the walls and floor, pinning her in place.

            “It’s… you,” she ground out, barely able to turn her head an inch. There was a long, jagged shard growing out of one of her eyes. Her eye. The other was bloodshot and watering, but still intact enough to fix on us. “But I saw you die.”

            “We… we were sent hurtling through time,” Dorian said, his voice trembling. “Can you tell us the date, First Enchanter? It’s vital we know.”

            “Harvestmere… 9:42 Dragon.” Her voice had a hideous crystalline quality to it, as if the stuff was growing inside her throat, too, shards grating against each other as she forced the words out. How much of the inside of her was replaced with crystals, I wondered. How many of your organs could be swallowed up by lyrium before you died?

            “A whole year,” Dorian said. “We’ve missed an entire year.”

            “Be careful,” Fiona choked. A tear squeezed out from under her crystallised eye, glinting in the torchlight, and I shivered as tiny flakes of lyrium embedded themselves in the flesh of her cheek in its wake. “Alexius… serves the Elder One. More powerful than the Maker. No one challenges him and lives.”

            “I can’t…” I shook my head sharply. “I mean, it feels wrong to just walk away and leave you here like this.”

            “Sweet girl,” she wheezed. “There is… nothing to be done… for me…”

            “Her only hope,” Dorian said, “and ours, is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here, and use it to go home.”

            “Good,” Fiona said.

            “It could also turn us into paste.”

            “You must… still try. Better… than this.”

            “Can’t argue with that.” He took my hand, gently tugging me towards the door. “Come along, Emma.”

            I went without further argument, the image of Fiona’s ruined eye flashing in my head over and over like a broken strobe light. It didn’t help that there was red lyrium growing out of the walls all over the place, pumping out an uncomfortable amount of heat and… humming. Varric had told me about the red lyrium idol he and his brother had found, how it had a tendency to sing to people. I hadn’t understood what he was talking about until right then, slipping along those ruined corridors while the walls called to us, a sound like someone singing quietly in another room. The worst part was that the sound was beautiful. Oppressive, yeah, but beautiful.

            “Can you hear that?” I whispered, holding up a hand as we came to another dead end and began to backtrack.

            “I’m trying very hard not to,” he muttered.

            “No, it’s not the walls, it’s like someone talking, real voices. There, hear it?” His eyes widened, reassuring me that the sound wasn’t coming from the lyrium (or my own head), and I set off towards them, speeding up as we got closer and I realised the voices were familiar.

            It was the Wellerman. Deep voices raised as they listlessly sang the sea shanty I’d taught them. It was almost enough to have me in tears again as I burst through a door into yet another cluster of cells (I was beginning to feel like Redcliffe’s entire budget had been spent on creating the most extensive dungeon system in the world), calling, “Bull?”

            The singing stopped immediately, a frozen silence replacing it. I had enough time to worry that it might have been an illusion, that I’d run headfirst into yet another trap, before Bull uncertainly called back, “Boss?”

            I hurried further into the room, peering into all the cells. Most were empty of anything but heaps of red lyrium, but in the final three cells Bull, Varric, and Solas were all in the process of heaving themselves to their feet, stumbling towards the bars – Bull and Varric had been caged side by side, Solas in a cell opposite. All of them looked exhausted, their eyes so bloodshot I could see it from the centre of the room. But they were alive.

            “Holy shit, it really is you,” Bull said.

            “It really is me,” I agreed, laughing weakly as Dorian hurried to unlock the cell doors. “Long story short, we got sent through time, not exploded or –”

            I broke off with a squeak of surprise as Solas spun me around and wrapped me in a hug tighter than I’d have expected, clinging to me like I was a life raft. “Da’len,” he whispered, “oh da’len, I thought he had killed you. I was sure I had watched you die.”

            “I’m okay,” I said softly, hugging him back. Heat poured off him, and I could feel the crystals shifting under his skin – he was infected, same as Fiona. They all were. “Just need to get to Alexius, and Dorian thinks he can send us back home, keep all this from happening.”

            “Sent through time,” Varric said with a dry, crackling chuckle, patting me on the back once Solas released me. “Everything that happens to you is weird.”

            “Tell me about it,” I snorted.

            “So, we get you to that asshole Alexius,” Bull said. “We kick some ass. And then Pretty Boy here sends you back through time to stop all this shit happening? That’s better than my original plan for today! Let’s get to kicking ass!” He armed himself with a chunk of masonry the size of a Christmas turkey and pushed his way to the front of the group, leading us back out and up a flight of stairs.

            “Have you been down here the whole time?” I asked as we walked.

            “Nah,” Varric said. “After you blew up – or so we thought – we took Alexius into custody and brought him back to Haven, for all the good it did us.”

            “I thought we might be able to use the rebel mages to at least stabilise the Breach.” Solas kept touching my elbow as we walked, ostensibly to steer me around obstacles, but I got the vibe it was actually his way of reassuring himself I was real, that I was there. “Especially since Alexius had already demonstrated a great deal of power and ingenuity. Of course, I first wanted him to be tortured to death slowly. But when I was told that was not an option, I thought we might as well get some use out of him.”

            “Then the Empress of Orlais went and got herself assassinated during some fancy ball at the Winter Palace,” Varric said. “That made the Orlesian civil war spiral so badly out of control, every agent we sent into the country ended up dead –”

            “Just in time for an army of demons to come pouring out of the west and kill pretty much everyone who got in their way,” Bull finished. “Cassandra, Blackwall, and Sera died in the fighting. So did my boys.”

            “I’m sorry,” I said. “What about the others, are they here too? Cullen, Josie, Viv, Leliana? If they’re alive, we could –”

            “Josephine and Vivienne used to be in the other cells in our room,” Bull cut me off. “The stuff took them faster than us, who knows why.”

            “Dwarves are naturally resistant to lyrium,” Solas said. “You’re a far larger body to fill with crystals than a human, Bull. As for me…” He paused. “There must also be a difference in how it effects people, person-to-person, as with any disease.”

            “Cullen they took away just after they brought us in,” Varric said. “He was wounded in the fighting, but not mortally. They said something about making him a ‘real templar’ again, and that’s the last we saw of him.”

            “We’re going to take it back,” I said, holding Dorian’s hand again. “Empress assassinated, then demon army. We’re going to take it all back, I promise.”

            “If anyone can do it, I believe you will,” Solas said. He might have said more, but Bull shushed him, gesturing to the door at the very top of the stairs. Muffled voices and footsteps could be heard on the other side.

            Dorian and I moved up to flank Bull as he held up his fingers, silently counting down, three, two, one…

            He opened the door, stepped smartly through, and brought his chunk of masonry down on top of the nearest man’s head with such incredible force the guy’s skull pretty much exploded like a ripe fucking watermelon. Bull didn’t hesitate, just snatched the guy’s staff out of his spasming hand then hurled the stone at the next nearest guy like it was a baseball. The second man stumbled back, his face a shredded, crumpled mess of flesh and bone, and Dorian put an ice shard through his throat to double-tap him. There was only one more guard, and I took him down with a bolt of lightning before he had a chance to react.

            “There!” Bull said brightly. “Now we’re armed, too. Good work, everyone.”

            “I’m not sure a staff counts as being armed for a non-mage,” Dorian said, eyebrows raised. I looked at him, then pointedly down at Watermelon Head. “Fine, fine, my mistake.”

            Solas did some finicky magic with the block of stone and the staff, crafting Bull a makeshift war-hammer that likely wouldn’t hold together for very long, but which I didn’t doubt would be devastatingly effective. This done, Solas scooped another staff for himself, while Varric took up position at the back of the group, as the only one of us who was still unarmed.

            On we went, cautious and slow, killing a demon here, a Venatori there, as we searched for a way out of those endless dungeons. On hearing someone being tortured up ahead I ignored Bull’s warning look to run in and interrupt, hitting the torturer with a blast that sent him slamming against the opposite wall before he even knew we were there. I turned to his victim, thinking she was an old lady until she spoke.

            “You’re alive.”

            “Leliana?”

            Varric snagged a key from the torturer, tossing it to Bull for him to unlock the manacles holding her to the ceiling. Leliana moved stiffly, though not as stiffly as I’d have expected from looking at the grey, withered skin stretched taut over her face. Without another word, she strode to a chest against the wall and pulled out a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Only then did she turn back to me.

            “I saw you die.”

            “We got sent through time,” I said, forcing myself to look into those hollow eyes. “Dorian thinks we can go back, if we get to Alexius.”

            “Then you can prevent any of this from happening?”

            “That’s the plan,” Dorian said.

            “Good. The magister’s probably in the throne room. Let’s go.”

            “You’re not at all curious –” Dorian started.

            “All I care about is getting you to Alexius.” She shook her head. “Mages wonder why people fear them. No one should have this sort of power.”

            “It’s dangerous and unpredictable, yes, but before the Breach –”

            “Enough. This is all pretend to you. A future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.”

            “I’m sorry,” I said. It was enough to stop her from slowly advancing on Dorian, drawing her attention my way instead. “I’m sorry you went through… everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry that when I’ve finally got here, all I care about is rolling it back.”

            Leliana stared at me expectantly. “But?”

            “No buts. I’m not trying to justify or excuse anything. I’m just… apologising.”

            She continued staring at me in silence for a long moment, long enough for it to become uncomfortable. Then she turned and briskly walked away, the rest of us falling in behind her. We found ourselves in a kitchen next, where Varric was reunited with Bianca. It looked like whoever had occupied the kitchen before we reached it had been using the crossbow in lieu of darts.

            “Hello, gorgeous,” he said softly, running his fingers over the stock.

            “I feel like we shouldn’t be watching this,” I said, which drew a smile from everyone but Leliana, so, that was something.

            On we went, finally coming out into the castle courtyard. I immediately wished we hadn’t. The sky had broken open in a dozen places, making the Breach look pitiful in comparison, the whole sky becoming a twisted, bunched mess of roiling green clouds, tearing itself apart at the seams. Chunks of stone, some as big as buildings, danced and spiralled through the air with a horrible, unsettling sort of grace. My hand brushed against Dorian’s, and just like that we were holding hands again.

            “This…” was all I managed. Dorian nodded.

            “This is the world, should you fail,” Solas said quietly.

            Leliana had barely broken stride, and the rest of us hurried after her, fighting our way through more rifts and demons and Venatori, until finally we stood before Alexius. He was standing beside the fireplace behind the throne, with something grey and scuttling that gave me major Gollum vibes rocking back and forth behind him.

            I couldn’t resist the urge to say, “Surprise, bitch! I bet you thought you’d seen the last of –”

            “I knew you would reappear, sooner or later,” Alexius interrupted me, sounding utterly defeated. “I did not imagine it would be now, but I knew I had not managed to destroy you.”

            “Was it worth it?” Dorian demanded. “Everything you did to the world, to yourself?”

            “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.”

            “What do you mean, the end?” I asked.        

            He ignored me, looking over at the huddled creature instead. “Everything I did, I did for my son.”

            “That’s Felix?” Dorian cried. “Alexius, what have you done to him?”

            “I kept him alive. For all the good it did either of us.”

            “Perhaps I will put him out of your misery.” Leliana appeared behind the ghoulified Felix, yanking him to his feet and putting a knife to his throat. Felix didn’t show so much as a flicker of a response.

            “No!” Alexius gasped. “Please, I’ll do anything, give you anything, just don’t hurt my son!”

            I had another brief moment to hope. A few seconds where I thought we’d get out of this one without some big fight. I’d never learn, apparently. Leliana cut Felix’s throat, and that was that, a big old fight broke out which led to Alexius dying, and thus we lost the only person who knew for sure how the amulet worked.

            Still, Dorian took the thing from Alexius’ corpse with a reasonably confident statement to the effect of him being able to figure out how to use it in about an hour, and at least that time I didn’t even have the chance to get my hopes up before Leliana threw cold water on them, telling us we had to leave immediately. Before I could say something to the effect of “we fucking would, if you hadn’t just screwed everything up”, a hideous, squealing roar shook the room.

            “The Elder One,” she said in a soft, horrified voice.

            The boys had all been giving each other looks. Now, Solas said, “We will hold them off for as long as we can.”

            “Buy you as much time as possible to do your thing,” Bull agreed, hefting his improvised hammer.

            “No,” I said immediately, “I can’t just let you go out there to die, I –”

            “We’re already dead, da’len,” Solas said. “At least this way we can still serve some purpose.”

            I wanted to argue more, but he was right. Besides, the main way to help them was to stop any of it from happening, and the only way to do that was to get back to the right time. So I stood there and watched as they went out to die. I watched as the doors burst back open, their corpses tumbling through at the head of a tide of demons. As Leliana also died to hold them off for a few more seconds.

            Just before the horde reached us, the world jerked and swirled around me, sending me hurtling through a void to land back in the throne room, seemingly getting back right after we’d left. Dorian shook himself off and, with an effected air of calm, said, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

            Despite all the horrors, the urge to kiss him had grown intolerably strong.

Chapter Text

Things mostly went okay after that. Alexius surrendered easily. The queen of Ferelden, Anora, turned up to shout at everyone for a bit, which was neat, I’d never met royalty before. And I invited the rebel mages to join the Inquisition as allies rather than conscripts, which immediately got me in trouble. Cassandra hit me with a “we will talk about this at Haven”, which gave me such “just you wait until your friends go home” energy it almost sent me into another panic attack. Still, she kept her issues to herself until we got back. I think mainly so she’d have backup when it came to shouting at me.

            “What were you thinking, letting the mages loose with no oversight?” Cullen barked as soon as he and Josephine met Cassandra, Leliana, and me in the chantry. He didn’t even wait for us to make it into the privacy of the meeting room, just met us at the chantry doors and launched straight into having a go.

            “What was I thinking?” I turned to Cassandra. “I thought you sent a bird ahead of us to explain.”

            “Only in the broadest of strokes,” she admitted. “The capsules are very small, thus the notes to go inside are very short. I needed to apply brevity.”

            “Brevity, right,” I snorted.

            “I understand Alexius worked some sort of spell,” Cullen said, “but –”

            “Respectfully, Commander, you understand fuck all.”

            That shut him up. As he stared at me, stunned, people began to scurry about the place around us – most were chantry folk hurriedly getting out of earshot, though a few (Vivienne chief among them) just pulled back into the shadows so they could earwig as unobtrusively as possible. Ignoring them, I splurged out the whole story. I couldn’t help it. Once I’d started, it was like I couldn’t stop, details pouring from me like pus from an infected wound.

            There was silence when I finished. I took a deep, shaky breath and said, “So that’s why I allied with the rebel mages. Because I’d just come back from witnessing the end of the fucking world, and part of that world ending was all the non-Venatori mages being turned into living crystallariums. They didn’t want to be stuck with the Vints any more than we would, and I didn’t think we could afford to be divided right now. If they feel like valued allies, rather than seeing us as yet another authority trying to press-gang them into service, don’t you think they’ll work better with us? Do you not have the saying ‘you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar’ in Thedas or what?”

            “We do have it,” Dorian said. He and Solas were stood in the doorway of the chantry, quietly observing my telling off. “Back home, at least. From what I’ve seen of the south, they may be missing that particular adage.”

            “The whole world?” Josephine’s voice was faint, her hands gripping her ever-present clipboard so tightly I thought it might crack. “The whole world was being swallowed up by the Fade?”

            “The whole world,” I agreed. “Sounded like most people were already dead by then, though.”

            “Something else troubles me,” Leliana said. “Empress Celene assassinated? Orlais is already embroiled in a civil war. If Celene were to be killed –”

            “It would be total chaos, yes,” Dorian said. “Quite the clever plan, really. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises, and this demon army does the rest.”

            “You’re certain what you saw was true?” Cassandra asked, looking closely at me. “You are still not entirely familiar with this world, is it possible you simply experienced some sort of –”

            “It was real,” I snapped. The memory of that crystalline teardrop seeping from Fiona’s ruined eye socket, seeding crystals that burrowed into her flesh like maggots, hit me full force. I had to take a deep breath before I could continue, willing the image away. “Sorry. But it was all real. I’m certain. And I’ll do anything to keep it from happening. That includes allying with the rebel mages.”

            “Alright,” Cullen sighed. “I’ll continue working with our ex-templars and new recruits to try to minimise the risk of incidents.”

            “I will consult the social calendar to see which ball fits our timeframe,” Josephine said, scribbling on her clipboard. “From there, I can at least try to arrange entrance to the palace. I doubt we will have enough social standing for a formal invite, fledgeling organisation that we are, but I may be able to manoeuvre some of our people into security roles.”

            “Meanwhile, Cassandra and I will begin making arrangements for the assault on the Breach,” Leliana said. “We will take Fiona and a few senior enchanters to the temple to allow them to get a sense of the place.”

            “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to tag along on that little excursion,” Dorian said. “See what all the fuss is about.”

            “You’re staying, then?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

            “Why, of course! I’ve come to rather enjoy the south. I love it to little pieces.”

            “I’m glad. That you’re sticking around, I mean. Everything that happened there was awful, but having you with me made it… Well, not, like, good, but maybe… tolerable? Not quite so brain-meltingly traumatic?”

            “Ah, my friend Emma, the wordsmith.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it, turning me scarlet. “Now, hands of the Divine, let’s track down Fiona and head for the temple. I’ve been dying to see that gaudy lightshow up close.”

            When I turned around Josephine had already hurried off, scribbling away and muttering to herself. Cassandra and Leliana followed Dorian out, so the only one of the advisors left was Cullen. The look on his face as I turned to him, flushed and flustered as I was, could best be described as ‘kicked puppy’. He looked from my red cheeks to Dorian’s retreating back with something very much like dismay.

            Before I could think of anything to say, he quickly bowed and said, “My apologies for my earlier rudeness, Lady Herald. I… There aren’t words… The fact you have returned to us safely must surely be a blessing from Andraste herself.” With that, he walked briskly outside, head down, face red, leaving only me, Solas, and the eavesdroppers.

            Solas surprised me by coming over and hugging me. It wasn’t as frantic as the one his future self had given me, and it also lacked that unnatural heat and the feeling of something crawling around under his skin, which was very welcome.

            “I would have done that when you first returned,” he said as he let me go and stepped back. “But given our enemy, the leader of the mage rebellion, and Queen Anora herself were all present, I did not wish to make you look unprofessional.”

            I chuckled. “I appreciate the thought. And also the hug.”

            Nodding, he patted me on the shoulder. “With your leave, I believe I will join the expedition to the temple.”

            “Good plan. They’ll need their Fade expert.”

            As I stood there, watching him leave, Vivienne emerged from the shadows, sashaying to my side. “Well, we’re having quite the time of it, aren’t we?”

            “Yeah,” I laughed. “Turns out time travel isn’t half as much fun as it’s cracked up to be.”

            “Oh no, my dear, I wasn’t referring to that, intriguing as the possibilities may be. I was speaking of the Herald of Andraste and her trio of suitors.”

            “My… my what, sorry?”

            “Come now, darling, no need to be coy.” She smiled, prodding me in the upper arm. “I have spent most of my adult life in Orlesian high society, a young woman playing the field is hardly enough to have me clutching my pearls.”

            “I’m just confused on how you’ve gotten to three,” I admitted. “I know Dorian did the hand thing, and we did hold hands a lot on our little end of the world road trip, but –”

            “I mean the Commander and Solas, of course,” she said, patting my arm with a tinkling laugh. “Though I admit, for a woman with three romantic options, the pickings remain less than ideal. A Tevinter magister, an ex-templar, and a scruffy elven apostate will hardly assist you in advancing your social standing.”

            “Wh – bu – n –” Words weren’t wording again. Honestly, the thought of maybe having Dorian and Cullen fighting over me got me very hot under the collar, but adding the notion of doing anything with Solas to that was like a dash of freezing water. I found something about the idea viscerally upsetting, in a way I was struggling to properly verbalise. “I don’t… Not Solas.”

            “So, the Commander and Dorian’s feelings are reciprocal?” Her gaze sharpened so much I was sure I’d made a mistake, shown my hand. God, the Orlesian court would eat me alive. “Poor Solas. He is the least beneficial of your options, of course, so perhaps that is for the best.”

            “What makes you think… I mean, I never got the sense that Solas…”

            “Oh darling, do you truly believe a man would spend so much time training a lovely young woman with no ulterior motives?” She squeezed my arm gently, smiling. Well, that was something to unpack later. “Personally, I would choose Cullen. Being commander of the Inquisition’s forces might not be the highest rung of the social ladder, but I could not in good conscience encourage an elf to visit the Imperium.”

            “Thanks, Viv,” I said, because what fucking else could I say? “Anyway, I’ll just be off.”

            “Take care, darling.”

            I headed straight to the tavern. It was full and loud and hard to deal with after everything I’d been through, and that was pretty much exactly what I needed right then. I slipped into a seat at a table with Bull, Varric, Sera, and Blackwall.

            “Hey, folks.”

            “So, you did some weird future tour, right?” Sera said by way of greeting.

            “Remember that talk we had about treating delicate subjects delicately?” Blackwall said.

            “I’m being delicate!” she protested. “I’m being proper delicate, I didn’t even ask what was wrong with her for bringing all the mages on board, did I?”

            “Maker’s balls,” Blackwall chuckled.

            “Sorry, Boss,” Bull said. “We thought you wouldn’t mind them knowing.”

            “It’s fine, honestly. Saves me having to go over it all again.”

            “But you did go and poke around in the future, right?” Sera pressed.

            “Yeh.”

            “Right. So, when you saw me in the future, did I have, like, a cool eyepatch or something? You know, because I got all badass and fightery and came out of it with a sexy scar and all? Because girls love eyepatches and scars.”

            “Indeed they do,” Bull said solemnly.

            I briefly considered telling her the truth, but only briefly. “Oh yeah. Eyepatch, cool scar likes this,” I drew three lines down my cheek. “You’d even lost a hand, and replaced it with this wicked crossbow prosthetic that put Bianca to shame. Needless to say, you were drowning in ladies. The ones still alive, anyway.”

            “Yeah! Can’t wait to get my hand chopped off!” She proceeded to pretend to shoot various patrons with her imaginary crossbow.

            So, you know, at least someone was happy.

*

                        “Do you actually think I’m ready?”

            It was a few days later, and Solas and I were stood on the Penitent’s Crossing, staring up at the Breach as we waited for Cassandra and Cullen to get the mages in order. He shrugged.

            “You have been doing well with your training. You know how to channel power from others. I do not believe it would benefit anyone to delay for much longer.”

            I nodded, drumming my fingers on the stone. He’d been very honest about the fact I might die in the attempt, and after seeing how fucked the world could get if the Breach was left to do its thing, I was surprisingly fine with that. All the same, knowing I could be dead in a few hours was daunting.

            That’s probably why I chose that moment to say, “Hey, so, Vivienne said you might have feelings for me. Like, romantically.”

            I don’t know what I was expecting, but probably not for him to recoil with an expression of such abject disgust it startled a laugh out of me. “Ah,” he said primly, “that was a joke.”

            “No, she really said it. Not that I’m not a tiny bit hurt at just how hideous you find me, but I can’t say I’m sad she was wrong.”

            “You’re not hideous,” he said. “Far from it. I simply… feel it would be inappropriate. I have come to care for you, yes, a great deal. I am proud to know you.”

            “Oh yeah?” I grinned.

            “When I told you sealing the Breach for good may come at the cost of your own life, you hardly flinched.” He was staring up at the sky, deadly serious despite my attempt at lightening the mood. “You brought the mages in as allies rather than conscripts because you understood that to show them basic decency would earn their loyalty more surely than heavy-handedness, and you brought the Tranquil of Redcliffe under our banners simply because it grieved you to see them discarded. You wept the first time you killed a man. And while the title of Herald clearly rests uneasily on your shoulders, you have the wisdom to understand that such posturing is necessary for an elf who has suddenly risen to public notice. Compassion, tempered by wisdom. That is what I have come to expect from you, even in so short a time. So no, I do not view you in a romantic light, as your teacher I find the very idea distasteful. However, I do care deeply for you, all the same.”

            “Wow, you must really think I’m about to snuff it,” I said, with a valiant attempt at a laugh. “You know, I was a big family person back home. Probably spent more time with my mother and sister than I ever did with my friends, sad as that sounds. And obviously now I’ve come here, and I’ve got no family, but then you were there, and… Sorry, I hope you don’t think it’s weird or anything, but that’s sort of how I see you. If that’s alright.” I tried to laugh again. “You know, in case I really do die up there, just wanted you to know.”

            “I am honoured.”

            It sounded like he was serious, too. Before either of us could get any sappier, Dorian arrived at the head of a contingent of mages, loudly declaring, “Hello, both! Are we looking forward to saving the day?”

*

                        It wasn’t long before I stood under the Breach, the Big One itself, staring up at the swirling green wound in the air, feeling a little like I was going to hurl. Solas and Cassandra were on the temple floor beside me, while all the assembled mages lined the walls behind us, row upon row of them. Cullen had also gathered all the ex-templars he could, with the intention of them doing their magic suppression thing on the Breach itself. Since it probably couldn’t do any harm, I was glad to have them. Glad to have anything that increased my odds of ending the day without a brain haemorrhage, really.

            Solas yelled something I didn’t catch through the pounding of my pulse in my ears, and then I felt magical energy start to flow into me, seeping through my veins and bones and sinew, pooling in the Mark until it felt like my hand was about to burst like an over-blown balloon.

            Reaching up towards the Breach, just like I had with dozens of rifts by then, I told the damn thing to close. It resisted me, so hard it felt like my brain was going to flick straight out of my ears.

            Close, you bastard, close, close, close…

            A flash of light so bright I went briefly blind. Coupled with the spike of searing pain that shot through the Mark, there were a few seconds where I was genuinely concerned that my hand really had exploded.

            Then everything slowly came back into focus, and I realised I was both whole and alive. I looked around to see Cassandra hurrying towards me – judging by the state of everyone else, I wasn’t the only one to have been knocked flat. Cassandra even managed a smile as she hauled me upright and clapped me on the back.

            “We did it,” I said, looking up at what had been the Breach. There was still a hint of it there, in the way the clouds discoloured and swirled over that patch of sky, but the most obvious part of it was gone. Sealed. Fixed. “We actually did it!”

            “You did it,” she said, as all around us the mages and templars burst into cheers and applause.

*

                        Before we even made it back down the mountain, the party had started in Haven. Apparently, Leliana still had people on duty, out watching the perimeter, the poor sods, but it seemed like everyone else had been given the evening off. Varric met me at the gates, pushing a tankard of ale into my hand, and as the sun went down I sat with my friends, drinking and laughing and generally making merry.

            You know what comes next by now, right? Things were going well, so of course the universe needed to balance that somehow.

            “What the frig’s that noise?” Sera asked as the bells began tolling and yelling started up in the distance.

            “Sounds like we’re under attack,” Bull said. “Chargers, form up!”

            “What?” Sera screeched. “But we won! We did the thing! Who’s trying to mess with us now?”

            “Come on,” I muttered, glad I hadn’t done more than sip at two ales.

            Couldn’t even have one night off. Fuck’s sake.

Chapter Text

“It’s a massive force,” Cullen was saying as we jogged up, “the bulk of it over the mountain.”

            “Under what banner?” Josephine asked. She’d been hanging out with Leliana and Cassandra near the bonfire, rather than joining us in the chaos of the tavern.

            “None.”

            “None?”

            She sounded surprised, which I assumed was down to knowing more about Thedas than me. Like, if I was attacking people I’d probably also have wanted to go in sneaky-style, you know? So they wouldn’t be able to guess what we were capable of so easily. Probably would have offended someone if I admitted that, though. I was sure the Inquisition would march off to battle under full regalia, and even considering doing anything less was underhanded or dishonourable.

            Before I could say anything that risked outing me as the weaselly little fuck I apparently was, the main doors to Haven – already closed and barred – jumped in their frames. As the assembled crowd turned towards them, a desperate little voice called, “I can’t come in unless you open!” from the other side. Whoever it was didn’t sound like they were attacking, more like one of our people who’d been trapped outside, so I immediately looked to Cullen. He was already looking back at me, and quickly moved to open the doors, Bull and Blackwall helping him haul the boards aside.

            The shouter turned out to be a skinny boy I didn’t recognise, wearing a wide-brimmed hat about two sizes too big for him and dual-wielding daggers. It looked like he’d somehow managed to take down half a dozen guys by himself, at least one of whom was fully twice his size. As soon as I walked outside he darted towards me, sheathing one dagger fast as lightning to show me an empty palm.

            “I’m Cole. I came to warn you. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

            “Getting that impression, yeah,” I said. “Who is it? Alexius’ friends coming to break him out?”

            “The templars. They’re coming to kill you.” His empty hand crept out to grab my sleeve, only lightly, just barely snagging hold. It was like he was reassuring himself I was actually there, or maybe that he was actually there. He might have said more, but Cullen launched himself forwards at the word ‘templars’, sending Cole skittering back.

            “Templars!” Cullen barked, putting himself – and his sword – between me and the boy. “This is the Order’s response to our alliance with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

            “The red templars went to the Elder One.” Cole skirted around Cullen to get close to me again, agitatedly saying, “You know him? He knows you! You took his mages. There!”

            He pointed to a hill overlooking the village, one which no doubt provided a good vantage point, which those ‘red templars’ (whatever the fuck that meant) were already streaming over, looking like an evacuating ant’s nest. Enough of them were carrying torches to backlight the two figures standing silhouetted against the higher mountains behind. One was just a man, too far away for me to make out any of his details. The other looked… wrong. Even from that distance, I could see he was at least twice as tall as the man beside him, and weirdly stretched out, like Slenderman with shoulder pauldrons. As soon as he marched into view, the wrongness of him made my stomach turn over and set my skin to crawling.

            “He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said.

            “What do we do?” My voice came out weaker than I’d hoped. The Herald of Andraste couldn’t be seen to be falling apart. I cleared my throat and tried again, making a better effort, barely. “Cullen, do you have a… a plan of attack, or whatever, a… a defence…”

            “Haven is no fortress.” He must have seen me floundering and decided to cut my rambling short, thankfully. “If we are to withstand, we must control the battle.”

            That meant manning the siege equipment, apparently. More specifically, for me and the little gang I’d acquired, it meant protecting the engineers while they set the trebuchets off, drowning the main body of the incoming army with snow from the higher slopes.

            The ‘people’ we fought in the process barely counted as such. I didn’t know what the fuck had been done to them, only that it must have involved red lyrium somehow. Rather than fusing them in place, it seemed to have made them bigger, stronger, and in some cases faster. A horrible, twisted mix of red crystals and swollen flesh, skin twisting and writhing and splitting over bones disfigured by shards of stone, so much heat pouring from them the air steamed.

            But we did it. We protected the first trebuchet, and when our engineers realised the second wasn’t firing, we – meaning my little team and Bette’s people, leaving the Chargers to cover the first weapon – got that working too. We killed all attackers without even taking any losses, aside from Marcus catching a deep wound on his thigh, and as we watched all those enemy torches disappear beneath crushing tides of snow, we allowed ourselves some muted celebration. Solas squeezed my shoulder, Varric clapped me on the back, Bull went so far as to pick me up and spin me around. I was hoping Dorian might be so overtaken by joy that he’d kiss me, but I just got another hug instead. Still great, though.

            The only warning we got was that same squealing roar I’d heard in the future. Before I could even look up Bull yelled, “Move, now!” and grabbed me to bodily hurl us both aside seconds before a bolt of what seemed to be flaming crystal slammed into the trebuchet.

            “Dragon!” Bull yelled, on his feet again before the last splinters had even stopped raining down around us. “Move, move!”

            He lifted me back to my feet with ease, and I think would probably have thrown me over his shoulder and carried me back, if he hadn’t noticed Marcus limping along and decided his time would be better spent carrying the wounded guy instead. We somehow managed not to lose anyone on our run to the chantry, the only building made of stone in the village. Hell, we even picked more people up, saving various townsfolk from murderous templar-things and burning buildings and exploding pots (I was going to have words with whoever thought storing pots full of... oil? in the middle of the village was a good idea).

            Cullen was waiting at the chantry doors, throwing them closed behind us. “You’re the last,” he said, watching as Cole helped a badly wounded Chancellor Roderick to sit. Old Fancy Gear Rod had insisted on coming back to make sure I really did close the Breach that time. Well, he’d learned his lesson. “Anyone further out… Anyway. Any time those trebuchets might have bought us, that dragon just took back.”

            “I saw an Archdemon once,” Cole piped up. “It was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

            “I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen said impatiently. “That thing has the power to level Haven and kill everyone in it.”

            “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole said. “He just wants the Herald.”

            “Then let him have me,” I said.

            “No,” Cullen, Solas, and Cassandra said together.

            I didn’t give any of them time to get their arguments out. “I’ve done what you needed me for, right? Breach is gone? If it’s my life versus the life of every single person in Haven, I feel like that’s a pretty easy choice to make, especially since I’m dead either way, right?” I even managed to sound like I wasn’t about to throw up from fear, which was a real fucking feat, let me tell you.

            “There are other rifts,” Cassandra said, talking over Cole as the boy tried to say something about the Elder One.

            “And I don’t doubt Solas can work out a way to close them, now the big one isn’t up there constantly spawning more.”

            “Even if I could do such a thing,” Solas said, “your continued survival stands to do more good than harm.”

            “Not if the whole Inquisition dies right here and now because there was nothing standing between them and a monster!” I turned to go, only for Cullen to grab my wrist and pull me back. His grip transferred to my hand as he stared into my eyes.

            “I cannot allow you to go out there to die,” he said. “We have no guarantee your death would save the rest of us, and even if it did… We have another option. Turn the remaining trebuchets on Haven, bury the town. Kill us and our attackers before they can reach us.”

            “So everyone definitely dying is better than just me dying and everyone else maybe living?” I said, eyebrows raised.

            Cullen squeezed my hand. “At least we… all… would be together.” He took a deep breath, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “If this really is the end, Emma, I –”

            “Roderick has an idea,” Cole interrupted. “He wants to tell people, before he dies.”

            It was a good idea, too, I’d give that to the old bastard. The plan was for everyone to escape through a secret mountain pass while a diversion bought them time, before we followed Cullen’s plan of burying the village. When Cullen asked what we were going to use for a distraction, I couldn’t help laughing.

            “Obviously it has to be me. I’m the one that thing’s here for. If I go out there, play hell, he’ll be focused on me and you lot can get clear. Then,” I had to speak louder as various people started trying to argue with me, “I turn into a bird and fly to safety. Easy-peasy.”

            “I will begin the evacuation,” Cassandra said after a moment in which they all paused, realising I had a point. “When we are clear, we will send up a flare – watch for it. Blackwall, please help the young man in moving Roderick, so he might guide us.”

            “Probably better for Bull to do that,” I said.

            “I’m staying with you, Boss.”

            “If I’m your boss, that means you have to follow my orders, right? So, carry Roderick to this trail. Now, please, no time to argue.” Turning to Cullen as Bull reluctantly heaved Roderick into his arms, I added, “I’m going out alone, no arguments. I can fly out before the snow hits, I’m not risking anyone else’s lives.”

            “You won’t make it to the trebuchet alone,” Cullen said.

            “That’s why we’re going with her,” Bette said. This time, she was the one who cut my protests short. “We owe our lives to you. This is where we pay that back.”

            Given I’d just made a point about there being no time to argue, she had me, and she knew it, so all I could do was sigh and nod. Cullen and I then seemed to realise at the same time that he was still holding my hand. Rather than dropping it like he had before, he raised it to his lips for a quick, uncertain little kiss.

            “Promise me you’ll return to us,” he said softly.

            “Yeah, I promise.” There were about a thousand more things I wished I could say, but Bette and her team already had the chantry doors open, Leliana was yelling to Cullen from the back of the hall, and the screeching overhead wasn’t getting any quieter. Instead, I just followed up with, “Keep everyone safe until then, yourself included. And make sure Solas follows you, because he looks ready to argue.”

            Then I took off running into the night.

*

                        We fought our way out to the fall-back trebuchet, the one inside the village’s palisade fence, which would give us the barest bit of extra protection. I looked towards the front gates as we ran past, pausing for just a moment to mumble, “Horses?”

            Bette grabbed my hand, tugging me into a run again as she shook her head. “Sorry, my lady. No time. They’ll… they’ll have to take care of themselves.”

            It was stupid to be so upset over a handful of horses, given how many people were already dead, not to mention the fact the people with me were all probably going to be dead within the hour, maybe me too, but still. Somehow, I managed it.

            As we stood back-to-back, while some of the lads fiddled with the machine to get it set up, an idea hit me. “The Crossing,” I said, loud enough for all of them to hear. “Penitent’s Crossing, the bridge. If you can get to it, you should be able to use it as a barrier against the avalanche. Once the trebuchet is set up, you all run. I’ll give you as long as I can, set it off, fly out. We can all make it out of this!”

            Their odds still weren’t great, of course, but it was better than knowing our plan was for me to just fly out of there and leave them all to die. I fought with fresh enthusiasm as the red templars finally began swarming us, striking down one monster after another… But of course, we were fighting without barriers. Good barriers, at least.

            I didn’t even see the blow that was meant for me coming. Just felt movement, heard a sharp gasp and an impact, and turned to see Bette stabbing the templar who’d aimed for me. The templar’s own blade was jammed clean through her chest. I grabbed for her as she fell, lowering her to the ground as gently as I could, her hand clasped in mine. I think she was trying to speak, but only blood came out, coupled with a thick gurgling sound. Then she was gone.

            “Trebuchet’s ready, ser!” Gael yelled. “It… Oh.”

            “All of you get to the bridge,” I said, feeling cold down to my bones. I hadn’t known her long. I hadn’t even known her well, truth be told. But she’d died for me. That was blood on my hands, and my brain was struggling to process it. “Go on, get fucking moving! We’re not losing anyone else here, go!”

            They went, reluctantly, Bette’s body slung between them. Even if it slowed down their escape, I approved. She deserved better than to be left beside all those mangled wads of crystal. And it turned out the whole ‘give them as much time as possible’ thing was optimistic, anyway, because not thirty seconds after they ran off into the snow the dragon came back, blasting the ground beside me with those burning crystals and sending me flying arse over tit.

            The impact knocked the wind from me. I was knocked so hard, in fact, that when I first saw the figure emerging through the flames, I was sure I was seeing things. Then my vision cleared, and I realised I was looking at the monster from the hillside. Humanoid, maybe ten feet tall, with gangly limbs, clawed hands, and various patches where it looked like skin had grown, taut and strained, over armour.

            Instinctively, I heaved myself to my feet and began to back away, only for the dragon to charge up behind me. I’d always dreamed of seeing a real one, something that got more intense after finding myself in a world where they, you know, actually existed and all. I’d never imagined it being like that. The poor creature looked almost zombified, lips peeled back so its teeth were permanently displayed, all its skin looking raw and painful.

            Overall, it felt like being trapped in a nightmare. All my earlier bravery had evaporated, leaving nothing behind but the urge to curl up into a tiny ball and cry. I was going to die. I was really going to die, maybe quickly, maybe horribly, but either way, this was it. I couldn’t run. If I tried to fly, the dragon could just burn me in the air. I was dead. I was going to die in a world away from everyone who’d cared about me, and all I could hope for was to save the Inquisition before he killed me.

            “Pretender!” the gangly monster said, his voice a deep bass rumble. “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

            “Fuck off will I.” The words just sort of popped out. He was between me and the trebuchet, so as much as I wanted to make a break for it, I couldn’t. I chose to yap instead. “I haven’t pretended to be anything, let alone some hideous, gangling, Slenderman-looking dickhead who came up with his own nickname.”

            I’d managed to take two sidle-steps towards the trebuchet during my little performance, and was starting to think I might be on to something when he raised a ridged metal ball in one hand, setting it glowing red.

            “Bleat all you will, child,” he said. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.”

            Before I even had a chance to wonder what the fuck he was talking about, he reached towards me, and my left hand exploded with lemon-lime light, now threaded through with an angry scarlet. The accompanying pain was bad enough to crumple me into a ball, only dimly aware of the monster and the dragon as they closed in around me.

            “Take it,” I managed to grind out, just barely, the pain forcing me to clamp my jaws so tight I could feel my teeth creaking. “Fucking take it, then, and send me home while you’re at it, prick.”

            “This is your fault, ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying you stole its purpose.”

            “Wasn’t… even… me…”

            “I do not know how you survived,” he pressed on, blatantly ignoring everything I had to say in favour of the little speech he’d prepared. Rude bitch. “But what marks you as ‘touched’, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall.”

            The pain was getting worse by the second, but I still forced myself to utter the words, “Appropriate it’s called Anchor… since you’re… such… wanker…”

            “The response I might have expected from a child born of this diminished age.” He lunged towards me, grabbing my sparking left arm and yanking me up. I ended up dangling face to face with him, several feet off the ground, genuinely concerned he was about to dislocate my shoulder. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!”

            Even under the circumstances I had to concede that was a banger of a speech, like, fair play. Before I could even process how hard it went, much less try to formulate a retort, the guy threw me. Literally hucked me, like someone tossing a damp towel into a laundry basket. One second I’m dangling there getting lectured, the next I’m airborne. It’s not really something the brain is set up to process, you know?

            Luckily, he threw me at the trebuchet, meaning he saved me a lot of awkward manoeuvring. Unluckily, I hit the trebuchet. Multiple ribs on my left side broke with a chorus of dull snaps. I could have screamed, but all the air was driven out of me, so I just lay there on the wood gasping like a landed fish.

            My eyes lit on a sword that had been left on the platform, and since I’d lost track of my staff sometime around the dragonfire I grabbed it, using it as a crutch to heave myself to my feet. Whimpering at the searing pain in my chest (I’d never broken a bone before, turned out to be a real treat), I brandished the sword at him. A token gesture in every sense of the word, since I couldn’t use the damn thing, could barely move (or, you know, breathe), and wouldn’t have stood a chance against that monster anyway, let alone his dragon.

            “The Anchor is permanent,” he said, completely ignoring my feeble attempt to look like a threat. “You have spoiled it with your stumbling. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival – you must die.”

            As he was talking, a flare went up in the distance. The Inquisition forces had gotten to safety. I’d undoubtedly given Bette’s surviving people time to hide by then, too. That was all that mattered. I’d done my job. I’d done what I could to save as many people as possible.

            “Know what we call someone who stands around talking rather than getting shit done back where I come from?” Every word felt like a knife in my side, but so did every breath, and I didn’t intend on stopping either. “All mouth.” I gestured to the remains of what must have been a robe but which, thanks to his general state of decay, looked more like a skirt. “No trousers.”

            Then, with those possibly being my final words, I threw myself against the trebuchet’s trigger. I didn’t hang around to see his reaction, just waited long enough to make sure it fired properly and turned into a raven. It instantly became clear how terrible an idea this was – all my weight was now being carried by my ‘arms’, feeling like it was pulling the breaks in my ribs further apart.

            I couldn’t flap, but I could still glide, sort of. I’d never make it up the mountain, but there was an open shaft nearby, a hole into the system of caverns under the village, and as the wall of snow closed in on me, I dove into the gap.

            “Any port in a storm,” was the last thought I had before the front edge of the avalanche slammed me against the wall of the shaft, knocking me out.

Chapter Text

When I woke up, I was elven again, and shivering badly. One side of my face was sticky where my scalp had split, and as I sat upright the pain across my chest just reiterated that this wasn’t Animorphs, and changing shape didn’t mean my wounds got fixed.

            Still, I was alive. That was a bonus. Now all I had to do was find the others.

            There’s not much to recount about my climb up the mountain. About how I emerged from the caves to find Haven, the first place I knew in Thedas, a place I’d been coming to consider a sort of home, entirely swallowed up by snow. Buried so deep the village might never have been there. How I spent the first few minutes in the open just calling the names of the people in Bette’s team, not knowing if they were buried just as deep. How I finally gave up and began the ascent alone, trudging through hip-deep snow with five broken ribs, a partially dislocated shoulder, and a concussion.

            Suffice it to say, eventually – eventually – I heard Cullen’s voice up ahead yell, “There she is!”

I’d been managing until then. The human (or elven, I suppose) will to survive had pushed me onwards, despite the desire to just lie down and go to sleep. But as the footsteps charged towards me across the snow, reassuring me that I’d found people, I’d made it to (relative) safety, my knees buckled and dumped me face-first into a snowbank.

            Cullen made it to me first, rolling me onto my back and tucking that furry coat he was always wearing around me as best he could. “You’re alright,” he said, soft and fervent. “You’re alright, Emma, you’re safe now.”

            It was Bull who picked me up, though, to carry me back. As he did the breaks in my ribs ground together, and as the pain spiked I gratefully retreated back into unconsciousness.

*

                        The next time I woke up I felt better. Physically, at least. The fact I’d been woken by Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine all shouting at each other didn’t make me feel great, in all honesty. What can I say, I’m the eldest daughter of divorced parents. People I like yelling at each other in my vicinity immediately put me back into the ‘please don’t make me choose’ headspace.

            My ribs were much less blindingly painful, however, while my head and shoulder barely even hurt. Cullen’s coat was gone, replaced with a thick woollen blanket, which was a shame. As I was struggling my way upright, Mother Giselle appeared beside me, gently but firmly laying me back down.

“You must rest.”

            “No, I need to… I don’t know, at least referee. Doesn’t sound like I could break it up, but you never know, maybe if I stagger out of the tent and collapse it’ll at least give them something else to talk about. And it’ll be pretty funny, I imagine.”

            “I do not believe any of us would laugh,” she said, sounding like a teacher giving me a warning not to play up in class.

            “No,” I sighed. “Probably too many people dead for us to laugh. The people who came with me, my scouts, I told them to take cover. Are they…?”

            “We have not made contact with them as yet, but there are Inquisition forces scouting the area for any survivors who may remain. There has also been no sign of Corypheus, or his army, since you brought down the mountain. It is possible he thinks you dead, or considers us no longer a threat, or he is even now preparing for another attack.”

            “Right,” I said. “Corypheus. Big guy, good at speeches. I didn’t manage to kill him, then? I’d hoped…”

            “He made his escape, with his dragon and a fair portion of his army.” She reached over to take my hand. “Our people saw our defender offer herself up to save them. They saw her stand, and fall, then return to us. The more the enemy seems beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained.”

            “There wasn’t any miracle,” I said firmly. “I had good people there beside me until the end, and that prick’s own hubris did the rest. That, and the fact I’m too stubborn to give someone else the satisfaction of killing me. Also, bird.”

            “Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw.”

            She kept talking after that, stuff about Andraste and the Maker. I zoned out a bit, partly because of the head wound, partly because I didn’t see how, even if they existed, her religious figures would give a shit about me. I was a person from another world wearing an elf. If anyone was going to pay me any mind, surely it would be the elven lot? And seeing as they were all apparently locked up thanks to wolf-motif-Loki, and wolf-motif-Loki himself had fucked off entirely, I was pretty much on my own out there. Shame. Would have been nice to have a Loki-variant on my side.

            Still, it would have felt wrong to tell someone who was basically a nun to shut up, so I just nodded and made vague sounds and hoped she’d stop eventually. And eventually she did! Another win for Emma.

            “Well,” I said, pushing myself upright and, with a bit of effort, slithering to my feet. “Hopefully we’ve got the big guy and his lady wife on our side. But just in case we don’t, we should probably stop screaming at each other on this horrible mountain.”

            I tried to do a dramatic walk-off, but every step jarred my ribs so badly I only made it a few steps before I had to stop, wheezing. At least everyone had stopped shouting by then. Mostly because they’d all stopped communicating with each other entirely, but still. As I got my breath back, I started thinking over what I was going to say, what I could possibly say to keep them from breaking out into another argument. Maybe I could cry.

            Then, behind me, Mother Giselle started singing. Weirdest fucking thing. I didn’t know the song, the team had only bothered teaching me tavern ditties, but it couldn’t be something she was making up on the spot either, because people started joining in. A few people at a time, starting with Leliana and spreading out through the crowd, until they all, a whole crowd of them, circled around me, singing right at me. Some of them even kneeled in front of me, hands over their hearts.

            I’ll be honest, I was really torn. Because on the one hand, it was an incredible thing to experience. All those people, hurt, lost, scared, coming together in a moment that was genuinely beautiful? I was Welsh, after all, a rugby crowd singing the anthem or Calon Lan was enough to bring me to tears, and that whole thing was very much in the same ballpark.

            On the other hand, it was somehow the weirdest thing that had ever happened to me, and it had some stiff fucking competition.

            “An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause,” Mother Giselle said, and then she walked away. All she was missing was a mic to drop.

            That left me standing there awkwardly, alone, smiling at the gathered crowd, until Solas appeared beside me. He handed me a little bottle of something green and said, “Sip this, and follow me.”

            I obligingly gulped the potion and staggered after him. After a few steps, the pain in my ribs started easing, though it was accompanied by my head going all swimmy. My friend Milly had once picked me up a codeine-based painkiller, and I’d gobbled a few pills down thinking it was just regular ibuprofen, and let me tell you, suddenly that sprained shoulder wasn’t an issue anymore, though I did sort of melt into the couch, drooling profusely. That lovely green potion made me feel the same way, though thankfully with no drool involved.

            By the time I reached him, Solas was warming his hands on a brazier. He smiled as I hobbled up. “Congratulations, da’len. The humans have not uplifted one of our own such for centuries.”

            “If it means being sung at like that, I don’t think the People are missing out.”

            He chuckled. “Yes. There is something that concerns me, however. The orb Corypheus carries – it is elven. From my journeys in the Fade, I have come to understand that such objects were used to store power by the ancient mages of our people.”

            “Oh shit.” I chugged some more potion, then looked down at my hand. “Does that mean this thing’s elven too? He called it the Anchor, and it seemed to be linked to the orby thing. Hurt like a bastard.”

            “You were meant to sip this, not drink the entire amount,” he said reproachfully, taking the bottle back. “Yes, the two are likely linked. And they are elven. Imagine how people would react, should they discover the monster that attacked Haven, that destroyed the Conclave, carries an elven relic.”

            I could imagine well enough. I’d barely been there any time at all, hardly spent any time in population centres where I wasn’t the hero of the hour, and I’d still lost track of the number of times people had called me ‘knife-ear’. Usually as a descriptor, usually when they thought I couldn’t hear them, but they called me it all the same. Plus, I was generally travelling at the centre of a group of armed individuals, affording me some extra measure of safety. Yeah, I didn’t have any doubts people would jump at the chance to take their frustrations out on regular elves.

            “Probably best we don’t mention where the orb came from to anyone else,” I said.

            “Correct. However, we cannot guarantee that others will not make the same connection.”

            “Then what do we do?”

            “You must be above reproach. You must make yourself indispensable to the Inquisition, an elf who is so elevated no aspersions can be cast upon you, or by extension, your people.”

            I let out a long breath, wincing a little. “That’s a tall order, hahren.”

            “Yet it is one I feel confident you will rise to.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You have already returned from the dead, after all. A little more elfroot tonic, and then you can go back to bed. Tomorrow, we begin making you indispensable.”

Chapter Text

Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine got to me first the next morning, waiting beside my bedside until I sat upright, at which point they closed in around me. They were all smiling, at least, and none of them were shouting at any of the others, which was a plus.

            “Hi,” I said, testing my ribs as I slowly stood. Still aching, but not enough to keep me from moving. Solas was a bloody miracle worker. “Everything okay?”

            “As okay as we can be,” Cullen said.

            “We have a gift for you,” Leliana said. “As thanks for your defence of Haven.”

            “Guys, come on, we all worked to protect Haven, I can’t –”

            My voice died as Cullen turned to an aide and took a staff from him, holding it out for my inspection. It was gorgeous. All the staffs I’d seen, even the ones carried by top drawer mages like Vivienne, Dorian, and Fiona, were made of wood, with a focus at the top and occasionally a blade on the bottom. This one was a gorgeous silver-blue metal, in the shape of two entwined snakes. Each snake’s mouth was open, both seemingly trying to eat the focus, which was a smooth egg-shaped crystal that shone faintly amber. A leather strap was attached to the head and tail of the staff, to allow me to sling it onto my back; looking closer, the leather was some sort of scaly hide, a light cream colour I was sure was going to be a nightmare to keep clean.

            “This,” I said, shaking my head, “I feel like this is too nice for me.”

            “Not at all,” Josephine said. “You walked out into almost certain death for us. There is nobody else who deserves it more.”

            “Silverite and volcanic aurum,” Cullen put in, pointedly holding it out further. “The strap is drakeskin!”

            “The staff of Tyrdda Bright-Axe,” Leliana said, like that was supposed to mean something to me. She realised quickly, adding, “She was a legendary warrior of the Avvar. Curiously, she was not remembered by history as having been a mage, her staff was said to be a ‘crystal-headed axe’. The Avvar we spoke to on recovering the staff were not surprised by that fact, however. It seems non-Avvar history amended certain elements of her tale.”

            “Imagine that,” I said wryly. I reached for it, then pulled my hand back again as something occurred to me. “Hang on, is this why that bog incident happened the other week? They were Avvar, weren’t they? Were they pissed off that we robbed the grave of one of their heroes?”

            God, that had been a fucker of a trip from start to finish. A bunch of Inquisition soldiers had been held hostage in some awful bog full of undead, with the only demand being that their leader got to duel me. I ended up sprinting around some abandoned hall while an actual giant of a man lumbered threateningly after me with a war-hammer that I swear weighed at least as much as I did. Eventually I put enough space between us to hit him with enough spells to put him down, but it wasn’t exactly my most dignified moment. Then again, one of their medics, another large lad called Skywatcher, saw me close a rift and signed on with the Inquisition as a result, so, swings and roundabouts.

            “Not at all,” Josephine assured me. “In fact, Skywatcher himself aided us in tracing the staff. ‘A weapon fit for she who heals the wounds in the skin of the Lady of the Skies’, he said.”

            “Okay, cool.”

            I took my fingerless gloves off, ignoring Josephine’s aggrieved squeak as I stuffed them haphazardly in my pocket (she’d told me multiple times they were ‘fine Antivan leather’, and they actually didn’t feel as horrible to wear as regular gloves), and laid my bare hand on the staff. It wasn’t as cold as metal should have been out there, and I could have sworn I felt it thrumming under my touch, like a cat purring.

            As I took hold of Tyrdda’s staff, Cullen’s gloved thumb brushed the back of my hand. I looked up at him, giving him the full force of my ‘happy to have the prettiest staff’ grin, and as he turned crimson and jerked his hand back to rub the back of his head, I realised Vivienne had been right on his front. Complicated as his feelings for mages might have been, he at least had a little crush on me. That was good to know. I didn't know what the fuck to do with that information, but it was good to have it. My previous partners were the sort of people who made the first move, and I didn't think Cullen was the sort of guy to pull that thing, so, this was probably going to be us for eternity. Just spending our whole lives blushing and smiling awkwardly at each other. 

            “Thank you,” I said, realising I hadn't spoken for a while and hoping they'd just think I'd been overtaken by emotion. “All of you, this is a thing of beauty. I’ll try to be worthy of it.”

*

                        Solas was talking to Varric when I hobbled up, immediately waving my fancy new staff around for them to see. “Shame about my old staff,” I admitted. “It wasn’t much, but it was my first, you know? Didn’t even know I was a mage until I grabbed it.”

            “Trust me, Dreamer, you’ve absolutely traded up. Almost enough to make a dwarf wish he could use magic.”

            After Solas had led me on a little way ahead, I asked, “So, what are we doing exactly to make me indispensable?”

            “You are going to lead the Inquisition to their new base of operations.” He kept his voice low, even though we were well out of earshot of the camp, which was currently being broken down ready to move.

            “Right. And how am I doing that, exactly?”

            “The spirits have informed me of a castle sitting empty, some miles to the north of here. A fortress, eminently defensible, in need of some renovations but more than large enough to accommodate a fledgeling organisation.”

            “So, we tell Cullen and Leliana –”

            “No. You will scout ahead, on foot and on the wing. The discovery of the castle will be yours.”

            “I can’t do that!” I protested, keeping my voice low. “I can’t steal credit from you for something as big as finding a bloody castle for us to live in!”

            “You can, and you will. Da’len, if I inform the others of this stronghold, it will quickly be forgotten. If you discover the place, it will only add to your legend. Your legend will keep you safe.” He smiled. “As safe as you can be, Marked as you are.”

            “If you’re sure…”

            “I am.”

            “Alright, then I’ll tell everyone I’m going to scout ahead.” I worked my left arm, testing my ribs. A swig of elfroot tonic and I could probably manage it. “Has it got a name, this place I’m trying to find? Big strongholds usually have fancy names, don’t they?”

            “Tarasyl’an Te’las.”

            “Oh, it’s elven?”

            “Originally, though the fortress that stands there now was built much later.” He paused, looking down. “Skyhold. It translates to Skyhold.”

            “That’s pretty, I like that.” I bumped him with my shoulder and trotted back down to the camp, reminding myself I was going to tell them I was heading out to scout, not ask their permission. After all, I could turn into a bird. As all my attempts to catch feral pigeons had proven, snatching a bird out of the air was no easy feat.

*

                        Days later, I crested one last ridge and there it was, Skyhold. A full-on fantasy castle, perched atop a mountain peak, commanding incredible views in all directions. It took my breath away. Something about finally seeing it there felt like… coming home, in a weird sort of way. Like finally spotting it was right. In lieu of my actual home, that place would certainly do.

            Once the others caught up, and we all piled inside the castle, I ended up sitting on a wall alone, just watching the bustle and activity. I’d offered to help initially, but after being told no and politely moved aside half a dozen times I decided to just stay out of everyone’s way. After about an hour, Cassandra came over, and I hopped down quickly.

            “Can I help with something?”

            “As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I wished to speak with you about.” She gestured for me to follow her and began to walk, and I obligingly trailed along after her. “You are aware, of course, that our Inquisition has thus far been rudderless. We have spent much time discussing who we should choose as our leader, our Inquisitor.”

            “I assumed it would be you,” I admitted. “You’re competent, authoritative, you seem to have your shit together. You’d be my choice.”

            “You are kind to say so, but no. We have come to the decision that the person who should lead us is the person who has been leading us – you.”

            That’s the point where I realised I’d been trapped – Cassandra had walked me out onto a sort of platform, looking out over the main courtyard below. The main courtyard that was now chock-full of people, all looking up at me, just row upon row of staring, expectant eyes. Clearly, I was the last person they’d told. Smart move on their part.

            I spun to look at Cassandra, briefly considering going bird and fleeing into the sky. Instead, I whispered, “Are you sure about this? It’s just I’ve never even led a group project in school, I… I feel like I’m probably a born follower, rather than any sort of leader.”

            “You have already proven otherwise,” she said warmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “The recruitment of the mages was a thorny issue, but you handled it with diplomacy, and the mages defended us well at Haven. Haven, where you also walked out to confront a dragon on our collective behalf. Now, while still wounded, you have led us to a fortification we can use to build our organisation. Believe me, you have our full support.”

            Leliana was coming at me, holding out a sword so huge I was sure I’d never be able to lift it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I told myself. Yeah, I’d have to do politics and shit, and it would mean everyone under the Inquisition banner would technically be putting their lives in my hands. But it also meant, hopefully, I could steer a big institution towards doing things… better? Kinder? Use the political weight to push for my ‘mages in the community idea’, maybe.

            “Then, yes. Maybe together we can do some good.” I was almost right about the sword. I managed to hold it out in front of me with just the one hand, but I desperately hoped whatever ceremony they had planned didn’t take long, because my arm was already starting to shake, my side was hurting, and I didn’t think they’d appreciate me dropping the damn thing.

            “Have our people been told?” Cassandra called out to the crowd.

            “They have!” Josephine called back, in a way that suggested this was all part of some ceremony. “And soon, the world!”

            “Commander,” Cassandra continued, “will they follow?”

            As Cullen drew his sword and yelled, “Inquisition, will you follow?” I became sure this was all ceremonial. “Will you fight? Will we triumph?”

            The crowd cheered after every phrase. After the last one I glanced at Cassandra, who gave me a little nod. I took that as my cue to raise the sword over my head in an appropriately dramatic manner, hoping the effort it took didn’t show on my face.

I think I did pretty okay, all things considered.

Chapter Text

Skyhold was beautiful, but a wreck. After the drama of my coronation (or was investiture the better word?) and the quiet conversation that followed, in which my new advisors laid out all the things I had to be worried about, now I was both Magic Hand Messiah and Inquisitor, I was just set loose for a while. Our people were still trickling in, renovations were still being done, and the others strongly advised against making any moves until we had better intel to go on.

            I wandered down into the courtyard to find Cullen issuing orders from a makeshift desk, and waited for the crowd around him to disperse before announcing myself. He lit up when he noticed me, though he quickly tried to marshal his expression into something more professional. We briefly discussed the defence potential of Skyhold, and when that seemed to be all he wanted to talk about I made my goodbyes and started to leave, only for him to gently grab my elbow.

            “You could have died,” he said, ever so softly.

            “But I didn’t. Neither of us did. And I’m glad.” I pulled his hand from my arm, then held it, taking a step closer and looking up at him. “I’m really glad you’re alright, Cullen.”

            He ducked his head, turning red. “So am I. Glad you’re alright, I mean. When the mountain came down, and our spyglasses saw you disappear… there were so many things I…” Swallowing hard, he looked around at all the people lingering in the courtyard and stepped back, his voice going back to normal as he carefully, politely, slipped his hand free of mine. “I would never have had the chance to tell you how much I admire you.”

            “Well, lucky we both made it out then.” Right then, I realised I’d been hearing raised voices without realising it, only picking up on it when I heard the word ‘demon’. Cassandra, Solas, and Vivienne were having an argument nearby. I sighed. “I should probably see what that’s about, right? Since I’m the boss and all?”

            “The chains of command,” Cullen said with a sympathetic smile. “Should you require anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

            Off I went, putting out fires, doing the Inquisitor thing. I rolled up beside the ongoing argument and asked, “What’s up?”

            “The young man who warned us of the templars,” Cassandra said.

            “Who, Cole?” I’d almost forgotten about the kid. I barely remembered seeing him while travelling, the last I heard about him was Solas saying he’d sat with Roderick while he died (RIP Rodders, you died the way you lived – being dragged). If he’d chosen to take off immediately after Haven, he could have gone with no one ever wondering what his deal was.

            “It’s a demon,” Vivienne said severely.

            “He is not a demon,” Solas said.

            “Solas claims this young man has abilities outside the realm of a normal mage,” Cassandra explained for my benefit. “He can make people forget his very existence, for one thing.”

            “Because it is a demon!”

            “Viv, please.” I looked at Solas. “What do you mean, he’s a spirit? I met him, remember, he was a bit weird, yeah, but I wouldn’t have said he was a spirit.”

            “I believe he is a spirit who has, somehow or other, taken human form.”

            “I didn’t even know that was a possibility,” I said. “Though I haven’t exactly been around for very long, I know.”

            “You might not, but I have,” Cassandra said, “and this is also a new concept to me. Are you sure, Solas?”

            “I believe this is the case,” he said, “though it is impossible to say for sure. What is certain is that Cole seems to want to help, and he has certain abilities that make doing that possible.”

            “Emma, darling, this is ridiculous,” Vivienne said impatiently. “That creature is a demon. It must be sent away immediately.”

            “Alright,” I sighed, cutting Solas off as he inflated with fury. “I’m going to at least talk to Cole, see what he has to say for himself. I’ll decide whether he stays or goes once we’ve spoken.”

            Then I turned and walked briskly away, before anyone could argue with me. Cole was hanging around the little triage unit the surgeons had set up in the courtyard, mumbling to himself.

            “Hi, Cole.”

            “Hello. You were very kind at Haven, to offer yourself up for everyone else.”

            “So people keep telling me. At some point it starts to feel a tad patronising.”

            “Oh.” He paused in the act of stepping towards a wounded man and turned to me with what seemed to be genuine contrition. “I’m sorry.”

            “No no no, sweetheart, I didn’t mean… That was a joke, really. Please, don’t feel bad.”

            “Alright. Good!” He turned back to the man, mumbling, “Pain, so much pain. Dying, I’m dying, slipping away. I – I – Dead.”

            “Uh. Are you good, little man?”

            “I think so.” Again, he turned to look at me, tilting his hat back enough for me to see his eyes, watery blue and painfully earnest. “I only want to help. That’s why I came here. To help.”

            With that, he started muttering again, giving a woman water. I drifted closer to Marcus, whose leg was mostly healed but who was being kept there by the surgeon in case of any infection, and raised my eyebrows at him.

            “Interesting lad,” he said. “I think he gave me some bread yesterday.”

            “Nice of him.”

            “If it was him, he said he was saving the rest of it for the birds.” Marcus rubbed his head. “Odd. I can’t seem to remember his face.”

            “That’s not just you.” I patted his shoulder. “He’s a bit… Anyway. I’d better get back to trying to corral him.”

            “Best of luck.”

            Cole was still mumbling to himself, though he stopped as I came within earshot, instead speaking out loud. “He’s sad because he thinks he’s the only one left. That he only survived because he was wounded. But he likes watching the birds. They remind him of home.”

            “Did Marcus tell you all that?”

            “No. It’s his hurt. I see the hurt, so I can heal it.”

            “You’re reading their minds,” I said, instantly making me feel like a dumbass for taking so long to catch on.

            “Not really. I can see the part that hurts, or the part that will help.”

            “Oh. So, you’re just constantly feeling other people’s pain?”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m sorry, that can’t be easy.”

            “Why can’t it?”

            “You… It doesn’t make you sad?”

            “No.”

            “Oh. Well. That’s good, then. Cool.”

            Cole looked down at one man who was barely breathing, blood leaking from his mouth and nose, his ribcage misshapen. “The healers have done all they can,” Cole said. “It will take him hours to die. Let me help him?” He whipped out a knife, making it clear what sort of help he was about to deliver.

            I chewed my lip. Looking at the state of the poor guy’s chest, I thought he might even have struggled to survive back home, never mind with the level of healthcare they had in Thedas. But letting some feral spirit kid just shiv the poor guy seemed a tad extreme. But would I want to linger on in agony like that, or get put down quickly? Given how much I’d suffered from just a few broken ribs…

            Glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention to us, I said, “Okay. Help him.”

            As he slid the knife into the back of the man’s skull, right where it met his neck. I forced myself to watch the whole thing, forced myself not to look away. The injured man only sighed before life left him, and Cole turned to face me with a shy smile as he said, “I want to stay.”

*           

                        Cole wandered off after I agreed to let him join up, and I left him to his business, heading back over to Cassandra, Solas, and Vivienne. Luckily, they’d all been too busy having a go at each other to notice the whole mercy-killing thing.

            “He’s staying,” I said before they could ask. Solas smiled and nodded.

            “My dear, I really must protest,” Vivienne said. “I know you are new to this world and don’t have the experience of a trained Circle mage, and I’m aware you have a soft heart. But this creature cannot be trusted. It is a demon. It might be playing the part of a gentle young man for the moment, but sooner or later its true nature will out, and it will kill people.”

            “I don’t want to argue with you, Vivienne, I really do appreciate your input, but I’ve made my decision.” I looked at Cassandra. “I accept full responsibility for the boy, and anything he might get up to. If he ever does end up going to the bad, I’ll deal with him myself.”

            “I’ll also keep an eye on him,” Solas put in, adding in an arch tone, “I might not be a renowned Circle mage, but I am the Inquisition’s Fade expert, and I would hope my opinion on the matter holds some weight.”

            We all watched Cassandra as she mulled over the situation. I didn’t know why I was asking permission, considering I was meant to be the one in charge of the whole shebang by then. I suppose I’d just gotten used to having to report to her, like a Pavlovian thing. That, and she gave off such an air of competent authority that I think most people around her ended up doing the same thing. Eventually, she nodded.

            “It is your decision to make,” she said. “I cannot say I like the idea, but… I expect you to mind the boy.”

            “I promise,” I said, “he won’t get up to anything untoward on my watch.”

            I nodded, smiled, and turned around just in time to see Cole dump an entire bag of raw turnips into the fire.

*

                        “Oh, there she is!” Sera yelled the instant I walked into the new (much bigger, if no fancier) tavern. “Her Royal Nibsness has come to grace us all with her Inquisity presence!”

            “I still just go by Emma, if anyone’s interested.” I took a seat among them, the usual tavern crew of Sera, Bull, Dorian, and Blackwall, missing only Varric. “As far as present company is concerned, at least.”

            “Good to hear it, Boss,” Bull said, pouring me a glass from the truly gigantic pitcher that sat in the centre of the table. “Hate to see that shit go to people’s heads.”

            “That’ll never happen, I’m far too common.”

            “I heard you’ve been flexing those Inquisitorial muscles already,” Blackwall said. “Took on a new hand that Lady Vivienne and Seeker Cassandra weren’t exactly thrilled about.”

            “I’m not working with a frigging demon!” Sera said stridently. “It’s bad enough I’m stuck dealing with dragons and a weird magic man who pissed on the Maker’s feet or whatever, but I’m not getting stuck with a bloody demon for a coworker!”

            “Have you actually spoken to Cole at all?” I asked, smiling. “He’s quite sweet, once you get him talking. Mostly.”

            “I tried making conversation with the lad yesterday,” Blackwall said. “He sang a song about birds at me, then asked how a Warden becomes grey.”

            “So he’s a little eccentric!” I shrugged. “He’s still sweet.”

            “Demon!”

            “Spirit!” I grinned as Sera stuck her tongue out at me. “I’ve been thinking about something, actually. Sort of related. Because Dorian, you said mages back home hardly ever get possessed, right? Like, if someone becomes an abomination, nine times out of ten it’s because they’ve chosen it, yeah?”

            “Generally speaking, yes.”

            “And Solas has been big on telling me that a spirit’s whole deal is reflecting people, their emotions, their expectations, all that jazz. Like, if you expect a spirit to be a demon instead, it probably will be, right?”

            “Correct.”

            “So, isn’t it possible that the reason so many southern mages get possessed is because they expect to be possessed, and that maybe if they were taught otherwise, they wouldn’t be so susceptible to possession?”

            Dorian slammed his hand on the table hard enough to make me jump, and then held the hand out to Bull, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Bull rolled his eye.

            “Yeah yeah, give mages free reign and everything will be just fine.” Bull waved a dismissive hand. “Just because the Boss had the same idea, doesn’t mean you’re right, pretty boy. She ain’t from around here, and the Vints are still the bad guys.”

            “Ah,” I said, nodding slowly. “I take it I’m a bit late to the party with my bold new idea?”

            “Bull and I might have discussed just such a concept on our trip here,” Dorian said. “As you might be able to tell, he’s less receptive to the idea than you and I.”

            “You know how we prevent mages getting possessed under the Qun? We keep them carefully under control, we don’t let them run wild.”

            “You stitch their mouths closed and keep them in fetters for their entire lives!” Dorian said heatedly.

            “And we haven’t had so much as one of them being possessed yet,” Bull said, radiating smugness.

            “You stitch their mouths closed?” I said quietly, trying not to sound quite as horrified as I felt.

            Bull’s smirk vanished immediately. “Hmm. Yeah. Doesn’t sound great the way you say it, I’ll give you that.”

            “I don’t know,” Sera said. “Spend five minutes around Solas when he’s in one of his ‘elven glory’ moods and I could get behind stitching people’s mouths shut.”

            Blackwall went into his old-man chuckle, shaking his head. I laughed along, making sure to smile at Bull as I did, just to let him know that we were okay, at least. The Qunari way of doing things had turned my stomach, yeah, and I’d fight tooth and nail to avoid ever going to fucking Par Vollen, but it wasn’t like I could blame Bull for that, could I?

            “Young Cole will be sticking around, then?” Dorian asked.

            “He is.” I gave Sera a pointed look as I spoke. This time she flipped me off. Laughing, I said, “I trust him. Mostly. But I promise, if he does turn out to be a demon.” I ran a finger over my throat. “Okay? Cass is on board, under those conditions.”

            “I look forward to speaking with the lad,” Dorian said, ignoring Sera and Bull as they rolled their eyes. “A spirit deciding to take on human form is unprecedented. Maybe I could speak –”

            The door slammed open, and Krem burst through, yelling, “Your Worship!”

            We were all on our feet immediately. “What is it, Krem?” Bull barked. “Another attack?”

            “No, no, nothing like that, Chief. I was told to run and get the Inquisitor.” He looked to me. “Horsemaster Dennet just made it here, and he’s got Gael with him. Bette’s Gael, and the team.”

            Josephine had made it very clear to me after my investiture that the Inquisitor should never be seen running, except in literal life-or-death situations. With that in mind, I took off at an aggressive powerwalk, the others falling in behind me. Sera, Bull, and Blackwall were still carrying their drinks.

            Marcus was working his way down the line of his friends when I arrived, hugging each in turn with a great deal of back-slapping, while Gael stood in a huddle with Cullen and Dennet. As I came into view a ragged cheer went up. Bette’s people looked exhausted, battered, but they were alive.

            “Herald!” Gael called, waving me over. I clasped hands with everyone I could reach as I walked through the crowd. Bull and co. hung back to chat with the team, the Chargers also emerging from the woodwork to offer welcomes. “Except I hear you’re the Inquisitor now as well, is that right?”

            “Guilty as charged,” I said, unable to stop myself from hugging Gael, who seemed to appreciate it. “I can’t even… I’m so happy to see you guys. Did we lose anyone else?”

            “Mikkel and Selah died of their wounds before we could get them here,” Gael sighed. “But it could have been a lot worse. We stopped by the stables on our way out of Haven, freed the horses there. Everyone was so focused on killing you, we managed to get further down the valley before the avalanche hit.”

            “The horses are alright too?” I had to fight back tears at that little revelation. As much as I might have grudgingly accepted there was nothing I could do to get to them, it hadn’t stopped me crying on and off when I thought about them since we’d left Haven. Still, crying about horses in Gael’s face when I’d also just heard about two more of the team having died seemed like a bit of a piss-take.

            “Lost track of one out there in the snow, but the rest are fine and dandy,” Gael confirmed with a smile. “We had no idea where you’d all gotten to, so we were riding back down to Redcliffe to see if anyone had heard from you. That’s where we bumped into Master Dennet, who happened to be making his way to the new Inquisition headquarters. He graciously allowed us to tag along.”

            “Always good to have more soldiers in the column, especially these days,” Dennet said. “Good to see you, Inquisition. Where’s the stables?”

            “I can show you, ser.” Blackwall handed his drink off to Sera and patted me on the shoulder as he led the horsemaster and his charges off to the barn. One of the surviving horses, I noted with some relief, was Honey.

            “Listen,” I said as I turned back to Gael, “head to the tavern. You’ll love it, way more space than the last one. Take Marcus and the Chargers and just have a catch up. You can have all the free drinks you want, I –” Waving to get Bull and Dorian’s attention, I called, “Tell Cabot drinks are on me for everyone, alright?”

            “Oh, my lady,” Gael said, blinking. “I wouldn’t dare presume –”

            “You’re presuming nothing, Gael, I’m insisting. If you feel bad about it, just don’t go overboard. You and your people were willing to die for me. Bette, Mikkel, and Selah did die for me. I can afford to buy you some drinks, alright?”

            “If you insist, my lady. Thank you.” Gael whistled to get the attention of everyone mooching around the courtyard. “Tavern time, folks! Our new Inquisitor’s paying!”

            I smiled as another cheer went up, waving it off magnanimously. As they moved off, I edged closer to Cullen and, through my smile, said, “I can afford to buy them some drinks, right?”

            He chuckled, too quietly to be heard by any of the chattering crowd. “We can certainly arrange something. After what they’ve been through, they’ve earned it. Will you be taking them on as your personal squad again?”

            Letting out a long sigh, I said, “Can I get by without a personal squad? Just me and my little band of weirdoes?”

            “Unfortunately, as the commander of your forces, I must insist you travel with a little more safety than just your friends.”

            “Then yeah. If it’s got to be someone, I want it to be them. If they’re happy to do it, I mean, after I got a bunch of them killed.”

            “That’s not fair,” he said, soft but stern. “To yourself, or to Bette and the others. She made her own choice, Emma, as did they all. Taking all the blame on yourself only robs them of that. It’s an unpleasant reality, but people die in conflicts. That is unavoidable. So long as you take all necessary measures to avoid knowingly sending people to their deaths for petty or pointless causes, carrying that guilt will do nothing but impede your ability to lead.” He looked down with a sigh. “To say nothing of the cost to you personally.”

            “Thanks,” I said. “I know eventually I’ll have to make decisions that get people killed. Burdens of command and all. When it happens, I don’t know. I’ll just have to make sure it’s always for something worthwhile.”

            “If you mean that, you’re already a better leader than anyone in Orlais.” His face twisted into an expression of such abject disgust at the reminder that Orlais existed, I couldn’t help giggling. Cullen looked a little confused, but he gave me a smile all the same. He had the loveliest smile, it lit up his whole face.

            “Thanks, Cullen,” I said quietly, patting him on the arm. “Really.”

            He coughed, rubbing the back of his head. “I, uh, yes. It’s what I’m here for, after all. Partly, at least.”

            Varric chose that moment to appear, waving as he strolled into view. “Hey, Dreamer. Someone just arrived, and I’d like you to meet them. Are you free?”

            I looked up at Cullen, who gestured for me to go ahead. With a smile, I followed Varric up a few flights of stairs to a quiet little platform on the battlements. It was empty when we got there, and I went over to sit on one of the low walls.

            “Gorgeous view,” I said. “Did you just bring me up here to take a break? Because if you did, I’m not even upset about you lying to me.”

            “Actually, he brought you up here to meet me,” a soft voice with a cut-glass English accent said. I turned to find it belonged to a tall human woman in her late twenties, tanned, with short black hair, icy blue eyes, and a pretty, rounded face.

            “Emma Morgan,” Varric said, “meet Marion Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.”

Chapter Text

I’d never met many celebrities in my old life. I got autographs from some boyband my friends liked, though I didn’t really get to chat with any of them since, you know, it was an autograph crowd and I had a toddler on his dad’s shoulders kicking me in the face at the time. Oh, and once when I visited London I saw Rob Brydon from Gavin & Stacey (went all the way to London to see a Welshman, nice bit of irony), though he looked too pissed off to speak to, so I just saw him. Plus, Queen Anora had shouted at me, which I thought probably counted.

            That was it, though. So, standing on those battlements with the Champion of Kirkwall herself, well, it felt a bit like my brain had fallen out of my head.

            All the same, I was the Inquisitor now, and the Herald of Andraste besides, so I knew I was expected to show at least a little bit of decorum when meeting important people. That’s why, when Hawke said, “Though I don’t go by that title much these days,” I only chuckled in a very normal sort of way and tried to look calm.

            “Whatever you go by, it’s an honour to meet you,” I said.

            “I could say the same. Varric’s told me a lot about you, and of course the stories about you are already beginning to spread.”

            “They are?” My calm, collected mask slipped immediately, making her laugh.

            “Yes, it’s certainly unnerving to have your life story out there for anyone to dig into, isn’t it?” She gave Varric a pointed look.

            “And on that note, I’ll leave you ladies to your talk,” Varric said, already walking away. “I hear some brave, foolish soul has arranged for free drinks for everyone down in the tavern. Have a good meeting!”

            Hawke came to lean on the wall beside me, taking surreptitious glances at my hand. I held it out for her to get a proper look, earning myself a warm smile that set my heart fluttering pathetically. A pretty, famous woman smiling at me like that? It was enough to make a girl weak in the knees. I told myself to get it together – if she’d stuck by her boyfriend after he blew up a city, she wouldn’t be leaving him for me any time soon. Not to mention if I added one more romantic interest to the pile I’d run the risk of my life turning into some sort of harem isekai.

            “So,” I said, “as glad as I am to have had the chance to meet you… why have you decided to show up now? I thought you were very keen on avoiding Cassandra?”

            “Of course Varric neglected to tell you why I’m here,” Hawke sighed. “He couldn’t wait to tell everyone about my familial bereavements and complicated love life, but letting the only other person to have fought Corypheus know we have that in common –”

            “Hang on, you fought Corypheus? As in, before he turned up at Haven?”

            “Several years before, yes. Fought and killed him.”

            “Uh. Not to, like, cast aspersions on your credentials or anything, but the guy seemed pretty lively when he was yeeting me into siege equipment.”

            She smiled. “So I gather. But that doesn’t change the fact that Varric and I killed him. He was being held in come kind of Grey Warden prison, and he used his connection to the darkspawn to influence the Wardens somehow. If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

            “Shit.” I started chewing at my thumbnail. “Is that something we can… block or reverse, something like that?”

            “Potentially, though we would have to track them down first. I have a friend in the Wardens. Last time we spoke, he said he was worried about corruption in the ranks. Since then, nothing.”

            I sighed. “He’s disappeared as well then, has he? And our Warden knows absolutely sod all. God, I hate being the one in charge already.”

            “I can imagine,” she said with a rough laugh. “I only had to worry about keeping track of my friends, and that was bad enough. The phrase ‘herding cats’ wouldn’t be entirely inappropriate. Lucky for us, my Warden contact isn’t entirely missing, however. He told me he would be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near the village of Crestwood.”

            “Fingers crossed that’s where he still is.” I gave her a shy little smile. “Thank you for this. At this point, any help is greatly appreciated.”

            “I’m not being entirely unselfish,” she admitted. “Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time, I intend on being sure of it.”

            “Thanks all the same.” I swung my legs around to dangle over the drop, looking out at my new home. “It’ll take us a few days to get ready to move, what with… everything. And I make no guarantees about how fast I’ll be able to travel – Cullen was teaching me to ride, but that fell off when we lost all the horses.”

            Hawke was resting her forearms on the wall beside me, looking up at me as I spoke. By the time I was finished, she had a knowing smile on her face. “Yes,” she said lightly, “Varric did tell me your love life was threatening to rival my own, in terms of being complicated.”

            “I… Sorry?”

            “The look on your face when you spoke about Cullen just now made things quite clear.” She patted my hand. “If you’d accept some unsolicited advice, you should probably have some training in hiding your expressions before you have to deal with Orlesian high society.” She grunted. “Orlesians.”

            “Oh Jesus.” I plastered both hands over my burning face. “I’m not really that obvious, am I?”

            “No, no, I have an advantage in that I was already aware of your love oblong,” she said reassuringly.

            “It’s only a triangle, technically. Despite what Viv says, Solas is just like my Keeper. Oh, uh, that’s –”

            “I’m aware. You’ll recall my friend, Merrill, is Dalish. So, the out-of-dimension Herald of Andraste who has suddenly become an elven mage finds her heart caught between a Tevinter magister and an ex-templar?” Hawke laughed, shaking her head. “If Varric wrote it, people would call it too unrealistic.”

            Sighing, I said, “But I can’t choose either of them, realistically, can I? Dorian still can’t fully get his head around the concept of slavery being a bad thing, and Cullen… Well. You know I’ve read Varric’s book.”

            “Ah.” Hawke briefly drummed her hands against the wall before scrambling over it to sit beside me. “You know… I can’t excuse what he did up there. All the templars in Kirkwall were unnecessarily harsh, to the point of cruelty, above and beyond most other Circles. But Cullen was far from the worst of them, and in the end he did the right thing and stood with us against Meredith.”

            “It that enough, though?” I said softly. “Is it enough that he wasn’t the worst?”

            “That’s something only you can know,” she said with a shrug. “Just like only you can know if a convenient last-minute change of heart is enough, or whether the man he has become since then is worthy of your affection.” She chuckled. “Of course, given Anders is out there somewhere right now, lying low and waiting for me to meet back up with him, I’m perhaps not the right person to ask for advice when it comes to morality in the field of romance.”

            “If it’s any consolation, I get it.”

            Hawke looked at me sharply. “You think what Anders did was right?”

            “Oh, I’m not touching any of that stuff with a bargepole,” I laughed. “I meant, I get you staying with him, despite everything. I’ve never been in love, I don’t think, not romantic love, not really. I thought I was, once, but… Anyway. If my sister or my mam or my best mate blew up part of a city over something they really believed in, I don’t think it would stop me from loving them.” I paused, kicking my heels against the wall as I considered it. “Yeah, I’d definitely let them off with nothing more than a stern talking to, and then we’d just go on the lam together.”

            Looking more than a little surprised, she watched me until I finally stopped rambling. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve spoken to so many people about what happened, and everyone seems to see Anders as either a hero or a villain, some grand figurehead, and so they have to see our relationship the same way – a great, sweeping romance, or an awful tragedy. Hardly anyone seems to see us as simply people. People who love each other.”

            I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been trying this new thing, since they made me Inquisitor – being a leader who sees people as, like, people.”

            “Truly revolutionary.”

            After that we just sat there together in a surprisingly comfortable silence, watching as people went about their business below. I could hear voices raised in the tavern, even from up there, and I really hoped Cullen had been right about sorting things out with Cabot, the bartender, because otherwise I was going to end up bankrupt before I could even raise any money.

Chapter Text

The day before we set out for Crestwood turned out to be a busy one – I was informed (five minutes before I was due to appear) that as the Inquisitor I’d be expected to judge people. Like, act as a legal judge, legally, on legal cases. I strongly suspected Josephine had deliberately chosen to drop the news on me so late to prevent me from making a break for it. Smart move on her part, if so.

            She eased me into it, at least, since the first guy was just the lunatic father of the Avvar giant I’d duelled in a bog. The dad had chucked a goat at Skyhold’s outer wall (?!?!) but said that was just a formality, some weird Avvar cultural thing, and actually he’d just stopped by on his way to raid in Tevinter. Since I wasn’t exactly Tevinter’s biggest fan right then, the first judgement I handed down ended up being, “Good luck and godspeed, feel free to grab some spare weapons on your way out, consider it weregild for your huge dead son.”

            Second case was less fun. It was Alexius, who’d survived the chaos of Haven and the trek through the mountains, and who now stood there in Skyhold’s great hall, looking like a beaten dog.

            “You have already taken everything from me,” he said, with a hollow voice and thousand-yard-stare when Josephine prodded him for a defence. “Do what you will.”

            Dorian had already told me that Felix had returned to Tevinter, told the Magisterium I was actually pretty okay, and then promptly died of the blight-related illness Alexius had been trying to cure him of the whole time. Felix’s mother had apparently died during the initial attack that had blighted him, meaning Alexius was now entirely alone in the world.

            As I sat there, a whole hall full of people staring at me in anticipation, waiting for me to hit him with some horrible punishment, that was all I could think about. The guy had ended the world trying to save his son, in one timeline. Now here he was, while his son, who’d seemed like a decent guy, was dead.

            “I’ve spoken with Dorian about the time he spent with you back in Tevinter,” I said, trying to sound authoritative. “Back when you were his mentor. He speaks very highly of you, Alexius. Not just of your magic, of you as a person, as you were back then, at least. Of your love for your family.”

            “For all the good that did them,” he muttered bitterly.

            “Maybe you can still do some good. I sentence you to work with the rebel mages – under heavy guard – primarily focusing on rifts. Though I’m sure they’ll want your advice on other things.”

            “Why not simply execute me?” He finally showed a bit of life then, eyes flashing as he looked up at me. “Kill me and have done with it, girl!”

            “No. Dorian believes you’re better than what you’ve become. I trust his judgement.”

            That seemed to hit home. He dropped his gaze again, and was unresisting as the guards took hold of his arms and led him away. That was the last case of the day, thankfully, and I hopped up from the throne (they gave me a throne to render my judgements from, like, come on) and started hustling towards the main doors, thinking I’d probably meet up with Bull and have a bitch about Vints for a while. On the way, I was intercepted by Mother Giselle.

            “Hi, Mama G,” I said, skidding to a stop. “Everything okay?”

            “I am sorry to trouble you, Inquisitor, but as you are setting out for Crestwood tomorrow, I have a matter that requires your attention. A letter has been delivered to me regarding your friend, the Tevinter.”

            Fuck's sake, Dorian. “What’s he done now?”

            “The young man is not at fault, your Worship. The letter comes from his father. It appears Dorian has been estranged from his family for some time, and now they have heard he has joined the Inquisition they have concerns.”

            “Oh,” I said quietly. “I didn’t… Dorian’s never really talked about his family.” Not even when I talked about mine, thinking about it. All he ever talked about from back home was his time with Alexius, hanging out with Felix, and how everyone might have been a bastard but at least it was way fancier than the south. “But they sent the letter to you, rather than him?”

            “I believe they had cause to assume the young man would ignore any correspondence he received from them, while I am both a neutral party and a representative of the Chantry.”

            “Right. Yeah, alright, so what do they want, his family? Are they trying to talk him into coming home?”

            “They ask for you to bring Dorian to the inn at Redcliffe. There will be a family retainer there, waiting to convey his response back to Tevinter –”

            “Okay, cool, sounds easy enough.”

            “—and they ask that you do not tell the young man exactly why you are visiting the inn until you arrive.”

            “Whoa, now, you’re asking me to lie to my friend? To trick him into walking into some sort of family ambush?” I paused. “A fambush?”

            “His father believes Dorian would refuse to attend, were he to know the truth.” She pressed the letter into my hand. “The choice is yours, Inquisitor. I feel, however, that a little subterfuge is a small price to pay in order to reconcile a family.”

            “Right. Yeah. Okay.” I backed away towards the door to the rotunda, suddenly seeing a woman I’d previously thought of as nothing more than a harmless old nun as something a bit more sinister. “I’ll just go and…”

            Slipping into the rotunda, all thoughts of Dorian were immediately driven out of my head. I hadn’t been in there for a while – after being buried alive, I’d had a strong urge to spend as much time as possible out in the open, go figure – and in the time I’d been away Solas had redecorated. Gorgeous frescoes that were in obvious segments, while also flowing so smoothly into each other you couldn’t see the joins, like chapters making up a book. The colours were vivid, the lines bold, the imagery striking.

            “Holy moly,” I said.

            Solas was over by the door to the outer walkway, a palette and trowel in hand. He turned to smile at me, saying, “Good afternoon, da’len. What do you think?”

            “They’re stunning.” I wandered over to what must have been the oldest panel and cautiously touched it. Dry. It wasn’t paint, I realised once I saw it up close, but coloured plaster applied straight to the wall.

            “It is an old elven technique.”

            “It’s the story of the Inquisition, right?” I pointed to each panel in turn. “Conclave explosion, forming the Inquisition, Redcliffe, the attack on Haven.”

            “It’s your story.” He went back to adding details to the Haven panel. “Skyhold is your home now. It seems only right to commemorate your achievements here too.”

            “Wow. Ah, yeah, that’s why the wolves are up there, right? Because that’s when we discussed the shapeshifting? Still can’t turn into a wolf.”

            Solas paused in his work. “Yes. Remember that even one alternate form is an achievement. Besides, you may recall that we also discussed the fact that fighting as a wolf poses personal dangers that fighting with magic does not.”

            “Wasn’t actually thinking about fighting,” I admitted. “More, like… running through the woods.”

            “I see,” he chuckled. “Perhaps if we find ourselves in some woods, you can take some time out for a wolfen jog.”

            “Wouldn’t that be nice? Anyway, duty calls. You’re coming to Crestwood, aren’t you?”

            “A pack of wolves could not prevent me.”

*

                        Dorian was lounging attractively in his usual chair (I was pretty sure he slept there, actually), book in hand, when I came up the ramp into the library. “Ah, I thought I heard the dulcet tones of your voice. Been admiring Solas’ artistic efforts, have we?”

            “Yeah. Every good leader needs an in-house artist, right? Self-aggrandisement and all that. Listen, Dorian –”

            “I already know,” he said, making me blink. “I watched Alexius’ sentencing from the gallery. I want you to know I appreciate your decision. I know he hardly deserves that leniency – you and I are the only people who know the full truth of that – but he was good to me once upon a time. I hope working with the mages brings that out in him again.”

            “That’s great, really. Hopefully you two get to talk at some point, as well. That’s not actually why I’m here, though. See, Mother Giselle just gave me this letter –”

            “A letter!” Dorian waggled his eyebrows salaciously. “To the good mother, no less. Have I been a naughty boy? Is it some sort of scandal?”

            “Um. It, uh. It’s from your dad, actually.”

            Dorian’s mood shifted immediately, his jaw clenching as his eyes went flat and hard. “My father,” he said coldly. “Let me see.”

            I waited anxiously while he skimmed the words, chewing my thumbnail. It didn’t take him long to finish, though he made various noises of disgust throughout. “How are we feeling?” I said eventually.

            “This is…” He could barely get the words out, shaking the letter around in barely restrained fury. “I know my son, he says. What he knows about me would barely fill a thimble. And he asked you to bring me to this meeting unknowing?”

            “You know I never considered lying to you for a second, yeah?”

            “I have no doubt, my friend.” He seemed to notice my anxiety, putting a hand on my shoulder. Of course, that only let me feel how badly his hands were shaking. “I feel there’s a decent chance this little meeting is a set-up for a kidnapping, don’t you?”

            “Over my dead body,” I said, which at least made him smile. “We don’t have to go, we can always just tear the letter up and leave it at that.”

            “We could,” Dorian said musingly, “or, we could go there, tell this retainer where to go, and if it does turn out to be a trap, we kill everyone and escape! You’re good at that. What do you say?”

            “I’ll work out a route,” I said. “We can do it as a detour, meet up with the others in Crestwood right after.”

            “Marvellous! I do so enjoy our little excursions.”

Chapter Text

After managing to convince Cassandra and my advisors into letting me and Dorian head out for Redcliffe alone, we rode off together, leaving the others to make their way to Crestwood. Theoretically, two riders could travel much faster alone than as part of a column. Realistically, I knew my riding would only have slowed us down, so I spent the majority of our trip there as a raven, sometimes flying, sometimes clinging to Dorian’s shoulder. It also helped with the whole ‘travelling incognito’ thing, which was a plus.

            Redcliffe was still fairly busy, since even though we’d scooped up all the mages, as soon as the Arl got his castle back, he started taking in refugees. He seemed like a decent guy, all told. I’d have to ask Josephine to arrange a meeting for us at some point. Despite all the people lingering outside, however, the inn itself was completely empty.

            “Hmm,” Dorian said, looking around. “Seems a tad ominous.”

            “Yep,” I said. “That trap idea is gaining some weight right now.”

            “Perhaps we should –”

            “Dorian.” It was one man, dressed in Tevinter robes, with a weathered face, and an impressively full head of hair for a man of his years. I assumed he was the retainer we were there to meet until Dorian hissed beside me.

            “Father,” he said, his voice dripping venom.

            I was left blinking like an idiot. On the one hand, the appearance of a Tevinter magister with a vested interest in getting Dorian back strongly increased the chance we’d just wandered into an attempted kidnapping, and I didn’t know if I had it in me to help Dorian kill his dad, self-defence or otherwise. The other part of me was just freaking out over the thought that, messed up as the situation might be, Dorian had brought me to meet his father. I’d never met a partner’s parents before. I wished I wasn’t wearing my road clothes, and that I didn’t have ‘was a raven five minutes ago’ hair.

            “So the whole thing about the family retainer was, what?” Dorian snapped. “A smokescreen?”

            “Then you were told?” Dorian’s father took a few steps towards us, and I couldn’t help reaching for my staff. “I apologise for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

            “Dorian’s a valued member of my team,” I said, interrupting Dorian before he could snarl out a response. “Not to mention a good friend. I wasn’t going to let him walk into an uncertain situation alone and unknowing.”

            “Speaking of which, what sort of ‘uncertain situation’ is this, Father?” Dorian said, after giving me a brief look of gratitude. “Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”

            Dorian’s father sighed heavily, shaking his head. “This is how it’s always been,” he said wearily.

            “Who could have imagined why?” Dorian’s voice was so wickedly sharp it could have been used to shave. “Come now, Father, let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.”

            “Dorian, there is no need to –”

            “I prefer the company of men.” Dorian cut his father off, turning back to me instead. “My father disapproves.”

            Suddenly all there was inside my head was that old dial-up modem noise. My brain completely locked up as I started running back over every single interaction I’d had, with Dorian and about Dorian, and tried to reconcile them with this new information in mind. Eventually, I got my brain working enough to speak, and before the words came out I sternly told myself this wouldn’t be another Double Dai incident, where I drunkenly found out my mate David Davies hadn’t been flirting with me, that he was in fact gay, and, a dozen tequilas deep as I was, responded with, “What? No. Please, don’t be gay.”

            Unfortunately, the words I managed to force out that time were, “Run that by me again, sorry.” Shit. Maybe next time.

            “Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in, sex. Surely, you’ve heard of it?”

            “Ye – uh – I uh. I mean. Yeah, I’m aware of it as a concept.” I looked from him to his dad and back. “Ahh, and that’s not something that goes over well in Thedas, is it?”

            “I can speak only for Tevinter, but it only matters if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distil the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw – every aberration – is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”

            “Oh.” I looked at Dorian’s dad again, and the guy at least had the good grace to avert his eyes. “That fucking sucks.”

            Dorian laughed, sharp and bitter. “Indeed it does. Do you know what’s even worse? He taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of a weak mind’, he always said. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to change me!” He sounded close to tears. Personally, I felt a bit sick.

            “That’s a thing blood magic can do?” I whispered, horrified.

            “Possibly.” Dorian shook his head. “Or, possibly, I’d have been left a drooling vegetable. Either would have worked for you, wouldn’t it?” He rounded on his father again. “For you and your fucking legacy! Anything for that!”

            He made to march away. I hesitated for a moment, struggling with myself, before lunging after him to grab his arm and hold him in place. Dorian looked down at me with an expression of such fury I almost pulled away.

            Instead, I said, “I’m never going to see my dad again. Not ever. Admittedly he never did anything on your dad’s level, but there were still things I’d have liked to say to him the last time I saw him, if I’d known it was going to be the last time. Good and bad. Goodbyes, and things I’d have liked to pull him up on, mostly about how he was when we were kids. All gone, just like that.” I snapped my fingers.

            “You’re saying I should forgive him?” he said disbelievingly.

            “Fuck no. I’m saying you should at least try to have a proper discussion about things. Even if it’s just calling him a dickhead over and over for two hours straight in increasingly inventive ways, do it. We never know when something’s going to be the last time we see someone, so make the most of it.”

            Dorian stared at me for so long I was sure he was thinking up the most cutting way to tell me to go fuck myself. In the end, however, he gave me a one-armed hug and said, “Mind waiting outside while I make the most of this?”

            I smiled. “It’s a nice day. Take all the time you need.”

*

                        Sitting on some steps, looking out over the harbour, was quite nice. I must have been sat there for a little over an hour, just zoned out, watching the sun glimmer on the water. The people of Redcliffe were active around me, but nobody was rushing or seemed especially stressed. It was relaxing.

            We were one step up from poor growing up, so most of our family holidays were spent in Tenby out in west Wales, or maybe Cornwall if we were feeling flash. Something about Redcliffe harbour sent me back there. I could almost see me and my little sister Cathy running up and down the harbour wall, screaming and laughing as she tried to push me into the water. My dad teaching us to fish, only to end up frustrated as we both burst into tears; Cathy because she turned out to be scared of the way they flopped, me because I didn’t want them to die. My mother laughing and laughing as I disappeared beneath a swirling, screaming cloud of seagulls because I made the mistake of dropping a chip at my feet.

            Cathy and I fought a lot, my parents argued a lot, and when they weren’t arguing with each other they were liable to take out their frustrations on us. Especially me, as the oldest. But looking back right then, all I could remember were those good moments. The laughter, the chaos. The silver linings on the clouds.

            Dorian sat beside me with a sigh, shoulder pressed against mine. “Well,” he said, “that’s done, at least.”

            “How’d it go?” I asked, quickly wiping at my eyes.

            “About as well as could be expected. He actually apologised, if you can believe it. Invited me home and everything. I turned him down, of course. Still, it was good to clear the air. Thank you, by the way. For coming with me. For convincing me to stay.”

            “Of course. You’re my friend. Couldn’t let you come here alone, could I?”

            He twisted to look at me, frowning slightly. “Are you alright? You sound a little… off.”

            “Yeah, of course, I’m fine.” I patted his arm. “You’re the one who’s been through the wringer today, don’t you worry about me.”

            “I am worried, all the same. Is it… is it about your family?”

            “Partly,” I admitted. “I wish that was all it was, that would be much less pathetic.”

            “Go on, I’m intrigued now.”

            Sighing, I grudgingly said, “It’s just, I’ve been thinking that you and I might… You know. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

            “Ah.”

            “I do like Cullen, too. A lot. It’s been a very confusing few weeks for me.”

            “Of course.”

            “And for the record, I’ve got absolutely no issues with your preferences. Back home there’s only a certain type of person who thinks like that, and I’m very much not one of them.”

            “Naturally.”

            “It’s just that –”

            “I see.” He put an arm around me. “You’re a wonderful woman, Emma. If things were different, I would be honoured to grace any court of the land on your arm.”

            “Well, that’s alright then,” I said primly, making us both laugh softly.

            “In any case, I’d hate to steal you away from the commander.”

            Shaking my head, I said, “Knowing my luck, he’ll probably turn out to be a eunuch or something.”

            “Well, at least he’ll be a eunuch who’s entirely smitten with you. Because he is, you know. I realise you might be doubting yourself at the moment, but have no worries on that front.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Besides, there’s things a man can do with a woman that even a eunuch could accomplish. Or so I’ve heard.”

            “Thanks for that,” I said through giggles.

            Dorian chuckled along, though after a moment he became serious, cocking his head. “Would you prefer I be more… decorous, in future? Less familiar, perhaps?”

            “What, stop flirting? Absolutely not. If we both know it’s not going anywhere, why change what works?”

            “Ah, a woman after my own heart.” He raised my hand to his lips. “Shall we head off to meet the others?”

            “In a minute.” I rested my head against his shoulder, he leaned his head against mine, and we just sat there together for a while, watching the sun glint off the water.

*

                        When we arrived at Crestwood, the others had already set up camp, along with a handful of Inquisition soldiers that included Scout Harding. Everyone was more downbeat than I’d expected, even though a quick headcount told me my team hadn’t lost anyone, and the soldiers numbered about what I’d expect for an outpost.

            “Crestwood’s vibes are just that bad, are they?” I joked. Harding gestured for me to follow her to a lookout point nearby, which gave excellent views of both the lake, and the giant rift inside it. “Well, shit.”

            “Thanks to the rift, the village has been under constant siege by the undead,” she sighed. “We’ve been doing what we can, but they just keep coming.”

            “How many fucking people have drowned in that lake?”

            Harding laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not a lack of lifeguards. There was apparently an incident here back during the Fifth Blight, the old village was flooded somehow.”

            “Oh. Probably shouldn’t have been so flippant about the drowning thing really, should I?”

            “You didn’t know,” she shrugged. “Besides, I thought it was funny.”

            “And that’s why you’re my favourite scout. Come on, I’d better corral my gang.”

*

                        I insisted on leaving Gael’s people at camp and only continuing onwards with my, for lack of a better term, inner circle. The intention was to travel as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, and for that I needed a smaller group. Ideally, I’d just have taken two or three of them with me, but given how hard Cassandra fought me over leaving Gael and the gang, I realised I really needed to choose my battles.

            We bumped into some Wardens on the way in, apparently hunting Hawke’s friend. They didn’t seem to recognise any of us, not me (my shiny hand once again covered with a fingerless glove), not Hawke, not even Blackwall, so we just let them go on their way, only pausing long enough to convince a young elven woman not to go after the Wardens and ask to sign up.

            “Now’s not the time, lethallan,” as Solas put it. Thankfully, she seemed to listen, so that was my good deed done for the day.

            Our next stop was the mayor’s house. “Why aren’t we going straight to the smuggler caves?” Hawke asked as we trudged through the mud.

            “I’m going to have to do something about that big glowing bastard in the lake at some point,” I said. “Harding told me the old village flooded. Maybe the mayor’s got an idea of some way to un-flood it, with the Inquisition’s resources and all. I bloody hope so anyway, because I’ve got this real thing about deep, murky water. The sea is the worst, but lakes, ponds, rivers, can’t say I’m a big fan. Or any sort of fan.” I dry-heaved, then shuddered. “Sorry, thought about being in the water.”

            “Thrashing, gasping, straining for the surface, singing in my ears as the air –”

            “Cole, baby bird, dearest boy,” I said, turning to look at him. “That’s enough now.”

            “Oh, sorry.”

            “It’s okay. Thanks for stopping when I asked.” Noticing that the others were staring at me, I added, “I might have drowned a little bit. On a few occasions. Like… five times.”

            “Frigging pissflaps,” Sera said, “did you not learn to swim after the first twice or what?”

            “No, I mean, I can swim well enough. Stuff just keeps happening to me, I don’t know.”

            “We shall be sure to add ‘deep water’ to the list of your potential threats,” Cassandra sighed. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

            “I’m also tremendously arachnophobic, but that’s about it,” I said with a smile, but Cassandra seemed to be making a genuine mental note, which was troubling.

            “I thought Cole couldn’t read you past the Anchor?” Varric piped up thoughtfully.

            “I can’t, usually,” Cole said. “But Emma’s thoughts about deep water were… very loud.”

            Mercifully we reached the mayor’s house right then, otherwise my reputation might never have recovered.

Chapter Text

The mayor seemed stressed, which was understandable, what with the undead of it all. His response to me asking if there was any way to drain the lake was a bit off, though. You’d have thought I’d told him the way to seal the rift was for him to walk out into the middle of the village and hack his dick off.

            Still, he grudgingly told us we could, theoretically, drain the lake if we made it to the dam controls, which could be accessed through the fortress Caer Bronach, which was currently occupied by bandits. Because of course it was. Also, the controls were fucked. Because of course they were. Still, Caer was Welsh for castle. That was probably a good sign, right? Cosmically speaking? I felt like I’d heard ‘bronach’ back home, too. I was pretty sure it was Irish, but I couldn’t remember what it meant. Probably fine.

            Rather than start screaming in frustration (I was going to end up having to swim out to that fucking rift, I just knew it) I thanked the mayor, immediately classed all of that as a ‘tomorrow problem’, and set off to meet Hawke’s Warden. Along the way I was introduced to the concept of ‘druffalo’, fucked up bison-looking things which were, I was assured, functionally unkillable. Ah, Thedosian fauna. Never change.

            “Looks a bit tight in there,” I said as we peered into the damp darkness of the cave we’d been looking for. “Alright. Dorian, Cole, Blackwall, you’re with me and Hawke. Everyone else, hang back, keep the exit clear. Come running if you hear shenanigans.”

            “Sure thing, Boss.”

            “As you say.” Cassandra seemed less enthused about going along with the idea. I was certain she was about to invent toddler reins just to prevent me from ever getting out of arm’s reach. Still, she stayed put as we headed on in.

            The long, narrow tunnel ended in a poorly made wooden barricade. I forced the ‘door’ open, stepped inside, and froze as a blade gently came to rest against my throat. It was marginally less sexy than I’d expected something like that would be.

            “Not another step, friend,” a man said softly. “If you value your life.”

            “Um.” I slowly raised my empty hands. “Hi. I’m Emma, Emma Morgan. Hawke’s friend?”

            “Hawke’s…?”

            “Alistair,” Hawke said as she hurriedly slipped into the room behind me, “this is the Inquisitor.”

            “Oh? Oh!” The blade was quickly withdrawn. “Many apologies, my lady, I thought you might have been more bandits.”

            I turned to look at him, rubbing my throat. He was tall and blond and slightly pale, with light brown eyes and a little scruff of beard, like he hadn’t shaved, or maybe was just bad at growing one. Handsome. Strangely similar to Cullen, looks-wise. The grin he offered me was awkward and apologetic enough to immediately make me dismiss the whole sword-to-the-neck thing.

            “Understandable,” I said, waving a hand airily, only to drop it as something occurred to me. “Hang on. Warden Alistair? You’re not, like, the Warden Alistair, are you?”

            “I need to change my name,” he said, shaking his head. “Yes, that was me. War. Betrayal. Darkspawn. All lots of fun and made for excellent stories, I’m sure. But nobody cares about that anymore. I answer to Warden-Commander Clarel now, just like everyone else.”

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

            “No, no, it’s alright. Believe me, the shine may not have worn off yet, but give it another ten years of everyone you meet saying ‘really, you’re the Emma Morgan?’ and you might feel differently.”

            “Honestly, I think I might already be there,” I admitted, biting back every stupid question crowding my brain, and deciding to treat him like any other Warden.

            Speaking of, the others had followed us inside by then, and as Blackwall came into view Alistair immediately said, “Oh, but you have a Warden with you!”

            “Yes,” Blackwall said, surprisingly terse. “Blackwall.”

            “You’re Blackwall? My mentor, Duncan, he spoke highly of you.”

            “Oh, yes, Duncan.” Blackwall sounded warmer at that, at least. “Good man.”

            “Blackwall was left out of the Great Warden Disappearance, too,” I said. “He agreed to sign up with us.”

            “Fighting one of the original darkspawn seems a worthy challenge for a Grey Warden,” Blackwall said.

            “Quite right, too.” Alistair walked over to a table covered in maps and documents. “Corypheus. You know, after Hawke told me she killed an ancient darkspawn magister, the Wardens thought the matter resolved. But Archdemons don’t die from simple injury. I feared Corypheus might have the same power, so I started to investigate. I found hints, but no proof. And then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.”

            “I’m assuming that’s something horrible?” I shrugged when he looked back at me. “The way you said it, I’m not getting the vibe you’re being called to take a week in sunny Rivain.”

            Alistair huffed a laugh. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if that were the case? But no. Wardens are tied to the darkspawn, connected, somehow. Eventually that connection poisons you. You get bad dreams, and then you start to hear the music. It calls to you. Quiet, at first, and then so loud you can’t bear it. At that point, you say farewell and go into the Deep Roads to die fighting. ‘In Death, Sacrifice’.”

            “Wow. The Warden retirement plan fucking sucks.”

            That startled a proper laugh out of him. “Indeed it does.”

            “So every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now?” Hawke said. “They think they’re dying?”

            “Yes,” Alistair said. “I think Corypheus caused this, somehow.”

            “So, the Calling isn’t real, then?” I asked. “If Corypheus is causing it, surely that means it’s a trick, yeah? You’re not all actually dying?”

            “He’s trying to push the Wardens into doing something desperate,” Hawke said.

            “And judging by the way the Warden-Commander has called all Wardens in, he might well be succeeding,” Alistair said bitterly. “Clarel suggested some drastic things – blood magic and such – to prevent more Blights before we die. I protested, maybe too loudly, and Clarel sent guards, and… Well. Here I am. Wardens were gathering here, in the Western Approach.” He waved me over to inspect a map which, if I was being totally honest, I just pretended to understand. The Approach was further out than I’d been expected to learn, geographically speaking. No one lived out there. Barely any animals even lived there, it was a wasteland. “It’s an old Tevinter ritual tower. I’m going to investigate. I could use some help.”

            “You’ll get it,” I said firmly. It might be a wasteland out there, but at least it was fucking dry. “What sort of time frame are we looking at on this meeting?”

            “Should have a little over a month,” he said. “The Wardens are still scattered. It’ll take some time for them to organise.”

            “That’s great. Listen, I have to stay here a little longer, I’ve got to deal with that bloody rift in the lake. Hawke, would you take Alistair back to the Crestwood camp, have Scout Harding and a few people escort you back to Skyhold? Once you’re there, they can hunt for you all they like,” I added to Alistair. “No one’s getting into Skyhold.”

            “Thank you, my lady.” He gave me a little bow. “And good luck with that watery nightmare of yours.”

            “Cheers.”

*

                        We camped in the cave overnight, because while it might have been dank (ayyy) it was at least drier and more defensible than outside. Hawke had agreed to pass on word to have Gael and the others join us the next morning, ready for our assault on Caer Bronach.

            “You’re worried,” Cole said after we’d all finished our lacklustre meal of dried meat and dried fruit (eaten separately, thankfully).

            “Am I being loud again?” I joked.

            “Yes. You’re worried about us. About taking the castle. You’re worried one of us might get hurt.”

            “Yeah, well, that’s my job, isn’t it? Worrying about everyone and everything? I’ll try to keep it down.”

            He was quiet for a while. Then, softly, he said, “You don’t have to be worried by yourself.”

            I reached out to stroke his hair, and he leaned into my touch like a cat, making me smile. “Yes I do, Baby Bird. That’s what being the one in charge is all about. But thank you.”

            Still looking troubled, he wandered off to sit by Varric until it was time to sleep, and I genuinely tried to keep my worrying to a minimum.

*

                        “It’s bigger than I expected,” I said the next morning, sending Sera into fits of stifled laughter.

            We were crouched in the bushes surrounding Caer Bronach, a big old castle that was looking pretty bloody impregnable right then. High stone walls, thick oak door, and by the sound of it plenty of people inside. My stomach was in knots. How were we meant to do something like that without siege equipment?

            “Idea,” I said. “I go bird. Fly in. Open the gates from the inside. Boom, at least that way everyone gets inside without us having to batter the gate down or scale the bloody walls.”

            “Hm, but I kinda wanted to batter the gate down,” Bull grumbled.

            “Cass,” I said as I patted him sympathetically on one massive shoulder, “how does that sound as a plan?”

            She turned to me with a face that said she was about to say something arch about the decision being mine, only to soften when she saw me. Probably thanks to the bug eyes and trembling bottom lip I was sporting. “It is a good idea. We will make our way to the front of the castle, ready to move as soon as the gates open. But please, be careful.”

            “Always am.”

            Things went off without a hitch. I was just another bird flapping about, nothing to bother themselves with, nothing they even noticed. And as it turned out, the gateway was deep and shadowy enough (and the bandits were drunk and incompetent enough) that even though my flimsy little mage arms struggled with the board that held the gate closed, I still had more than enough time to get it open before anyone knew I was there.

            That stealth didn’t last much longer, of course. Not after the Iron Bull tore past me at a flat sprint, giant axe in hand, screaming as he went. Cassandra, Blackwall, and Gael’s warriors followed as close as they could, Cole slipping along the inside edge of the fortress like a shadow, presumably to pop up again behind the enemy’s line. The archers, Solas, Dorian, and I hung back, staying at range; the lads lay down barriers while I hit clusters of bandits with fire and lightning.

            We tore through the place with unexpected, appreciated ease, cutting down wave after wave of frantic defence. The bandits didn’t have any mages of their own. They had nobody to cover them with barriers. One after another, they fought, and they died.

            Eventually we made it up to the top floor, where they’d decided to make their last stand. Their leader finally showed up, and the guy was fully seven feet tall. I swear I’d never met anyone taller than maybe 6’5 back home, and the fact men in Thedas regularly seemed to grow to ridiculous heights never failed to distract me. I’d ask what they fed people in Ferelden to make them so huge, but the answer to that seemed to be ‘mostly stew’, so maybe that’s where we were going wrong.

            So I was thinking when someone punched me in the side, hard, just below my ribs. That’s what I thought must have happened at first, even though nobody was anywhere near me. Confused, I looked down to see a crossbow bolt sticking out of me. From the depth and positioning, it must have been lodged right in my liver. My mind immediately wiped of anything but a sort of horrible surprise.

            “Oh,” Looking around for Solas, I weakly called, “Dad?”

            He turned to me immediately, brow creased in confusion. When he noticed the bolt, that confusion was replaced with horror, and he barrelled over quickly enough to catch me right as my legs stopped holding me up. The emptiness of shock was quickly giving way to agony. Resting me gently on the damp flagstones, he called over to Cassandra, “Hold the line, Seeker. I will do what I can.”

            “Is she –”

            “Please, I must concentrate!”

            “This is it, isn’t it?” I said, my voice shaking despite my attempts to steady it. “Liver. I’m fucked.”

            “No, da’len.”

            “I’m not scared. I promise I’m not scared. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

            “You will be alright, but you must do exactly as I say. Here.” He took my Marked hand and placed it over the wound as best he could. “When I pull the bolt free –”

            “No, nope, don’t, don’t do that.”

            “I have to.”

            “It’ll hurt!”

            “Yes, a great deal. When that happens, you must close the wound. Do you understand?”

            “No!” My eyes kept trying to roll up into my head. It was a battle to keep them focused. God, I was cold all of a sudden.

            “You do! The same way you do everything else, with the Anchor, with your magic. You know how to close this wound, da’len. Now – close it.”

            He wrenched the arrow free in one smooth motion, and as I shrieked he slapped my hand down over the ragged hole left behind. For a moment the feeling of blood literally gushing from the wound panicked me so much I completely forgot I was even meant to be doing something.

            Then I pulled myself together and pushed my mind the way I did to close the rifts, to throw fire and lightning, to slip into bird-shape – willing, wanting, wishing…

            Just before everything went black, I felt the blood stop pulsing under my hand.

Chapter Text

Hearing came back first, the sound of dozens of people going about their business. Then came the chill air against my skin, the rasp of a roughspun blanket, the smell of damp stone. Probably not dead, then. Finally, I forced my eyes open, only to recoil with a squeak at the sight of two pale blue, red-rimmed eyes staring into mine from a few inches away.

            “You’re awake,” Cole said. “Solas asked me to watch you.”

            “I’m awake,” I agreed. We were in a little side-room, barely big enough for the camp bed I’d been laid on and the chair beside it, currently occupied by Cole. “I’m also alive. That’s a bit of a surprise.”

            “You healed yourself. Willing, wanting, wishing away the wound, using the Anchor as an anchor to this world, a scar to stitch a scar.”

            “The Anchor saved me?” I said, holding my hand up to look at the glow, hoping my thoughts of how that might have worked covered the slight chill that came from the realisation that Cole must have been picking at my mind as I died.

            “It did,” Solas said, appearing in the doorway. He came over to sit on the end of my cot, both he and Cole reaching out to help prop me against the wall as I sat up. “There is great magic contained within the Anchor, and thus within yourself. My hope was that the power was strong enough to heal such a severe wound.”

            “And if that hadn’t worked?”

            “Then I would have done all I could to heal you myself.”

            Feeling the barest tickle of unease at that (had he put off healing me himself in order to test a hypothesis?) I pulled my shirt up and looked at what I’d last seen as a gushing bolt-hole. Now it was nothing more than a puckered scar, something that might have happened weeks ago. “How long have I –”

            “We took the fortress the day before yesterday,” Solas said.

            “Wow. That Anchor healing is some serious shit.” I let my shirt drop and stood up, stretching cautiously. I was a little stiff in the joints, but there was no pain elsewhere. Whatever I’d done, I’d healed the internal injuries as well. “Maybe I should give up this Inquisitor thing and become Thedas’ premier healer instead.”

            Solas smiled. “A noble sentiment, but not a possibility, I am afraid. The Anchor likely only healed you because you are the one that bears it. Besides which, the magical energy expended to complete the healing was almost enough to kill you in itself. This is a last resort, not something to be treated lightly.”

            “Understood.” I grabbed Tyrdda’s staff from where it leaned in the corner and slung it over my shoulder. “Is the lake drained yet?”

            “It was done yesterday,” Solas said with a nod. “You should know, the dam controls were in perfect working order. Completely undamaged.”

            “What? But then, how did the old village flood?”

            “The dam controls,” Cole said softly, his eyes distant. “The mayor’s shame was shaped the same.”

            I looked sharply at Solas, and as our eyes met, I saw my own suspicions reflected there. “Send some people to secure the mayor,” I said. “Then we’re off to seal that rift.”

 *          

                        “Look who’s back from the dead!” Bull bellowed as I stepped out onto the terrace, where most people seemed to be hanging about. He followed this up by charging over to lift me off the ground in a bone-grinding hug.

            “Vashante kaffas,” Dorian snapped. “Put her down, you great oaf, you’ll put her straight back in her sickbed.”

            “Hi, Dee,” I said, as Bull set me down and Dorian replaced him, hugging me with a great deal more care, planting a kiss on my cheek for good measure. “Everyone ready to deal with that bastard in the lake?”

            “No lake anymore,” Blackwall said.

            “Good news for you,” Sera said, grinning. “Shame for the rest of us, though. I was looking forward to seeing you going all –” She flailed wildly.

            “Good to see you, too,” I said, making her laugh. Before I could say anything else, Cassandra marched up to take hold of my shoulders, looking me up and down. “Hi, Cass. Did we lose anyone taking the castle?”

            “You were the only person even injured,” she said reproachfully.   

            “Sweet. Come on, then, let’s get rifting.”

            Cassandra insisted on having Gael’s people join us, so once more we set out as something that felt more like a school trip or rambler’s outing than a war party, everyone talking and laughing as we climbed down a series of ladders into a sort of flooded basement-slash-cave, which Marcus promised opened out onto the lakeshore. The frontrunners of our group had barely taken five steps into the cave before a strange chittering sounded above us. I grabbed for my staff, crouched, looked up… and froze in terror.

            A spider the size of a grizzly bear was descending from the ceiling, accompanied by a handful of other spiders bigger than dogs.

            Spiders. Dog-sized. Bear-sized. All glittering eyes and wiggling legs and clacking jaws.

            Absolutely not.

            I started screaming, a sound eerily like an old-fashioned teakettle on the boil. I might have been saying words, but even if I was, they weren’t any sort of sense. Mostly swearing, interspersed with what might have been ‘no’ and ‘get it away’.

            Unleashing one frantic burst of lightning across the ceiling, I took off running, bouncing off stalagmites and slimy walls until I stumbled out into the open and dropped to the ground, rolling over and clawing at myself to make sure there were no regular-sized spiders on me. Then I sat and waited for the others. Their laughter reached me first. Varric was beside himself. Sera could hardly walk, Blackwall was having to half carry her.

            “You did,” she choked out, pointing at me. “You did say… scared of spiders…”

            “I’m so sorry.” I stood, plastering my hands over my face. “I just ran out and left you all.”

            “It was worth it,” Varric gurgled, holding his ribs.

            “We dealt with them easily enough without you.” Blackwall wasn’t openly laughing, at least, though it looked like the effort was costing him. “Better for you not to, uh, put yourself through it unnecessarily.”

            “Well, that was quite the display.” Cassandra was the last one out, still wiping ichor off her sword, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “When you said you were afraid of spiders, I never imagined… Anyway. Let us continue.”

            I got my own back, a tiny bit, when we reached Old Crestwood and found it absolutely crammed full of spirits. Sera immediately announced she was turning around and going back to camp.

            “You’re not waiting up here alone,” Blackwall said.

            “Yes I frigging well am!”

            “It’s fine, Wall,” I said. “If Sera wants to hang out alone in a village full of spirits, that’s entirely her choice to make.”

            “Oh, you’re such a bitch,” she growled, and I gave her the sweetest smile I could in return.

            “That one’s looking at me!” Cole announced delightedly. “Hello! I’m Cole! Don’t be afraid!”

            “What do you think, Solas?” Cassandra asked. “Are they threats?”

            “No,” he said firmly. “They are merely lost, seeking a return through the Veil. If we do not harm them, they will treat us kindly in reply.”

            Most of the group were still hesitant as we picked our way over weed-strewn cobbles. Even Cole lost some of his enthusiasm when he tried saying hello to a spirit of Command, only to get brushed off with the most disgusted, “Ugh! Compassion!” Poor Baby Bird got hate-crimed.

            Off we went underground (given my earlier freakout, I felt like it wasn’t the time to mention that my other major fear was being underground, like, I just couldn't deal with any more mocking that day, I was going to have to suck it up and force myself through), rift closed, job done. As we walked out through a rear exit, wading through nugs along the way – it turned out they lived underground, too, there was no escaping the bunny-pigs – we came out into an open field. Quite a pretty one, lots of wildflowers, it was nice.

            “Look at that!” I said cheerfully. “The sun’s even coming out! Apart from the fact we’re going to have to arrest the mayor, and that I’m now cursed with the knowledge that giant spiders exist –”

            “There are giant poison spiders out there, too,” Varric said.

            “Thanks, that’s awful! As I was saying, I think we’ve –” This time I was interrupted by a roar from overhead, so loud it rattled my chest. “For fuck’s sake!”

            “Dragon,” Cole said calmly.

            “It’s headed our way,” Blackwall said, less calmly.

            “We’re fighting her, right Boss?” Bull grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently back and forth. “Bosss…”

            I turned to look at the cave we’d just exited from, then at the rapidly approaching dragon. No way we’d all make it through the narrow gap before the thing landed, never mind if it spat fire down there after us. If it did breathe fire into that cave, the damn hole would turn into a kiln.

            “Alright,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “Alright, fuck it, might as well. Why not, why not fight a fucking dragon today. Bull, you seem to know what you’re doing, plan?”

            “Mages lay down barriers.” He unlimbered his axe, grinning like a pumpkin. “Archers hang back. Warriors go for the legs. Leave the head to me.”

            As the dragon landed, Dorian looked at me and, in the frozen moment before chaos erupted, said, “We’re going to be slaughtered, I hope you know.”

            Got to love an optimist.

Chapter Text

Cullen was waiting at the gate for us as we came through hauling a dragon skull, a mayor we’d caught on the way home, and a truly phenomenal amount of dragon leather. His face was creased with worry, smoothing out as I came into view.

            “Inquisitor,” he said with a nod, “hello. I heard you met successfully with Warden Alistair –”

            “Love meeting a celebrity.”

            “—then took an arrow to the chest –”

            “Healed up a treat!” I yanked my shirt up to show him the scar without thinking. He instantly went so incredibly red I thought he wasn’t going to be able to keep talking, but he soldiered bravely on.

            “—then closed a rift under a lake –”

            “We drained the water first.”

            “—before killing a dragon that had been harassing the local area for weeks.”

            “That one was mostly Bull, he came up with a full battle plan in, like, seconds. I got the impression he thinks about that sort of thing most of the time he’s awake. It spat lightning, by the way. Felt like a bit of a personal insult. Murray, one of Gael’s lads, got a few burns, but everyone else is fine.”

            “I… see.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like allowing you to leave the fortress might be a bad idea.”

            Laughing, I patted him on the arm. “I’m fine, I promise. Anyway, if you lock me up, who’s going to get out there and close all those rifts?” I spotted Leliana hustling towards me over his shoulder and squeezed his elbow gently. “Nice to see you, Cullen. Will you excuse me?”

            “Oh, yes, uh, of course. Good to see you, as well.”

            I headed over to meet Leliana, who triumphantly announced, “We have received the invite to the Wintersend Ball, at the Winter Palace!”

            “To stop the empress being assassinated, right, right, cool. I’m going to need a dress.”

            “You’re going to need as much training as possible.”

            “In… what? Dancing? Oh Christ, I’m going to have to dance.”

            “In the Game,” she said, like it should have been obvious. “You cannot hope to play it properly with a face that gives away all you are thinking. And you cannot simply wear a mask either.” She cut me off before I got a word out, which made me think she probably had a point. “You are not a member of Orlesian society, nor a member of someone’s household. You will not be permitted to wear a mask.”

            “Fuck’s sake. Fine. We’ve got a week before I’ve got to march out into the godforsaken desert, is that –”

            “We can at least make a start.”

*

                        Learning to play the Game was deeply, extravagantly un-fun. It mostly consisted of me sitting across from Leliana while she asked very personal questions or said scandalous things, slapping my hand, hard, if I didn’t keep my expression as a fixed (but polite and natural-looking) smile. After an hour of that I had to go and get etiquette lessons from Josephine, which were mind-numbing but easier on the hands, at least. Hour on, hour in, rinse and repeat.

            On the third day, when I was released from Leliana’s class for my one-hour lunch break, rather than eating in the main hall as I’d been doing, I grabbed an apple, a chunk of bread, and a bit of cheese, and headed out into the garden. It was cold out there, as it was always cold up in the Frostbacks, but even so the day was sunny and crisp, and I desperately needed to be outside.

            Looking around for somewhere unobtrusive to sit, I stumbled upon Cullen and Dorian playing a board game that looked an awful lot like chess, something I’d never have expected. It was also something I’d have been really jazzed to discover, before the Redcliffe Roadtrip. I want two boyfriends, and I want the boyfriends to be boyfriends…

            “How’s it going, lads?”

            “Inquisitor!” Cullen half launched himself from his seat before I raised a hand, gesturing for him to stay put.

            “This is nice to see,” I said. “Do you two do this often?”

            “Not often enough, it seems.” Cullen wore an endearingly smug grin as he moved a piece, taking one of Dorian’s and seemingly winning the game.

            “There’ll be no living with him after this,” Dorian sighed. He stood and came over to grab my apple, taking a bite out of it. Before I could protest, he cut his eyes towards Cullen, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Why don’t you take my place? Vivienne wanted to ask me about the Vyrantium Circle, and I’ve probably delayed it for longer than is polite already. Have a good day, both.”

            Cullen smiled at me, cheeks flushed, as I sat down. He cleared his throat and asked, “Has your training finished?”

            “I wish. This is just my lunch break. I’d never have guessed so much effort went into all that curtsying and smiling and talking ominously about the weather. The mask etiquette alone is pure insanity.”

            “That’s Orlais for you,” Cullen said disgustedly. “It’s a dreadful place, I’m just sorry we need to go there at all.”

            “We’ll make the best of it,” I shrugged. “If nothing else, I’m sure we can demolish the buffet.”

            He laughed. “If nothing else.”

            After giving me a brief rundown of the rules (which were essentially the same as chess, though some of the pieces had different names) we began to play, in silence at first, then cautiously discussing the particulars of my trip to Crestwood. He mentioned learning to play chess as well as he could to beat his sister, who was apparently still better at it than him and his brother.

            “You’ve got a brother and sister?” I asked, like a halfwit. The scar on his lip was proving immensely distracting.

            “And another sister, yes,” he said, perfectly polite, “as well as a brother-in-law and nephew through my oldest sister, Mia.”

            “Did any of them get into templar-ing too?”

            “Only me, though my brother Branson occasionally threatens to sign up, to torment me. The rest of my family stayed in Honnleath, where I’m from, though they had to leave during the Fifth Blight. I just… felt called to serve the Chantry, ever since I was a young boy. Pestered the templars until they eventually gave in and allowed me to sign up.” He smiled sadly. “For all the good it did me.”

            “How are your family? With everything going on, are they safe?”

            “They are, thank you. I don’t write to them as often as I should, I admit, but Mia always manages to track me down all the same.” He opened his mouth, only for it to snap closed a second later as he quickly looked down at the board. I was confused, before I realised he’d been about to ask about my own family, presumably stopping because he thought I’d get upset.

            “I taught my little sister to play chess when we were kids,” I said, keeping my voice as light as I could. “Well, I tried to, at least. She’s never been what you’d call patient. She spent most of our games just moving the pieces however she wanted while I sat there pulling my hair out because she wasn’t doing it right.” I laughed. “I’ve always been a big one for playing by the proper, exact rules of a game, where Cathy’s a bit more… wild card. I’ve got a half-brother, too, Aiden, who I think is going to be more like me, but he’s only eight, so it’s still a bit up in the air.”

            “Are they your only siblings?”

            “Yeah. My parents got divorced when I was twelve and Cathy was ten… Do they have divorce here? I’ve never thought to ask.”

            Cullen waved a hand. “There are annulments, in rare cases, but generally marriage is for life. That’s different in your world, I take it?”

            “Yep. Obviously, it’s still meant to be for life, but a lot of people get divorced all the same. It was the best thing for my parents, honestly, they really didn’t get on. Best thing for us kids, too. They both got to be happier than they were together, and we didn’t have to put up with them arguing all the time. My stepmother’s a nice lady, too, and Aiden’s a little cutie, and super smart. I’m a dumbass, got an English degree and ended up working in an office, but Cathy’s in the middle of becoming a doctor, and I’m sure Aiden’s… he’s going to be…” I had to stop, swallowing hard. “Sorry, Cullen, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

            “You didn’t,” he said. “Ruin the mood, I mean. It’s good for you to talk about them. To remember them. It may hurt, but they’re still your family. For all I couldn’t bear to contact my own family sometimes, just knowing they were there was a comfort.”

            “Thank you.” I took a deep, steadying breath, shaking my head sharply. Almost despite myself, just to have something to say, I came out with, “I’d never have thought I’d find you hanging out with Dorian, you know.”

            “Why? He’s really not a bad sort, for a Tevinter.”

            “But you hate mages.”

            He set the piece he’d been moving down and stared at it for a long while. Just as I was about to do a verbal backspace he quietly said, “I do not hate mages.”

            “Okay. Sorry, I shouldn’t have… We were having a nice time, and I… I just wasn’t thinking, I was upset and words just, like, happened, and –”

            “No, please, you’re right to press me on the matter.” Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “If we are to continue working together, I would do what I can to set your mind at ease. I… I did hate mages, and magic, for a time. During the Blight, I was trapped in the Kinloch Hold Circle Tower. I would rather not go into the finer details of my confinement there, but suffice it to say I was held and… tortured, by abominations.”

            “Oh, God, Cullen, I’m sorry.” I reached across the table to take his hand. “Listen, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

            “It’s fine.” He gently squeezed my hand. “The experience made me distrustful of mages for years afterwards. That distrust made me easily manipulated by someone like Meredith. Most templars transferred to Kirkwall were sent there for similar reasons. It seems she was deliberately filling her ranks with people less likely to question her excessive cruelty. I take some solace in the thought that even at my worst, even with a knight-commander who did nothing but encourage brutality and oppression, I still saw my duty as being to protect mages as much as lay people. Even so, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the things I did there, as well as the things I witnessed that I was too weak to stand against.”

            “Well,” I said, “good to know you don’t hate me on principle.”

            He laughed softly. “Not at all. In fact, I… uh…” He’d gone very red again, giving a little cough before continuing with, “I… respect you, a great deal. Professionally speaking. And I… am… very fond of you on a personal basis, as well.” Shaking himself, he quickly added, “Admittedly, I may still struggle with seeing mages as a whole as something other than a threat, but I am determined that will not be the case forever. Though I cannot promise I will ever be comfortable with Cole.”

            “Nah, the little man grows on people. You’ll see.”

            “Perhaps you’re right.” He squeezed my hand again. “While we’re speaking, I also feel you should know that I have stopped taking lyrium.”

            “Oh.” I blinked at him. “But doesn’t that… I thought being cut off from lyrium was a bad thing?”

            “It is,” he sighed. “It creates a state of withdrawal. There are side effects, and in some cases, it can even cause death.”

            “What? Cullen, if you’re risking your life doing this –”

            Squeezing my hand again to quiet me, he said, “Cassandra is monitoring me. If the time ever comes that I cannot continue doing my job effectively –”

            “I'm not worried about your job, Cullen, I care about your life!”

            He stared at me, seemingly surprised. Eventually, he said, “Thank you. But this is my choice to make. And I… I cannot stay chained to the Chantry any longer. Whatever it costs me. I have to be free.”

            His eyes met mine, clearly pleading with me to understand. And I did. As much as the idea of something happening to him chilled my bones, I knew where he was coming from, and I had to admit it was his choice to make. So, I nodded, and we exchanged hesitant little smiles.

            “Well, I’m all out of bombshells to drop,” I said, as we finally stopped holding hands, with some reluctance. “What about you?”

            “Just the one – I am afraid you’ve just lost.” He took my king with the same smug grin as when he beat Dorian, and despite my hatred for losing, I couldn’t help but laugh. The smugness faded as he shyly added, “Perhaps… If you take your break at roughly the same time each day, perhaps we could meet up here and play against each other. To give you a chance at improving.”

            I smiled, my cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Game training is so horrible, coming out here and losing at chess actually sounds refreshing as a break.” I started picking at my thumbnail. “I, um. I like just hanging out with you. Not talking about Inquisition stuff, or, well, not, you know. Everything’s Inquisition stuff because I’m the Inquisitor, but –”

            “I know what you mean,” he said, also very red. “Well then, I’ll await you here this time tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll have improved.”

            “No chance of that, but I look forward to it all the same.”

            Cullen ducked his head, like he couldn’t quite meet my eyes anymore. “As do I,” he said quietly.

            Then I went off and Leliana smacked the shit out of my hands some more.

Chapter Text

“This is the worst place I’ve ever been,” I said, wiping one forearm over my soaking forehead as I gasped for breath. “And I’ve seen the world end.”     

            There were a few scattered laughs, but they were weak and feeble things. I didn’t take it personally. The Western Approach was searingly hot, and on top of that the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like a heavy, sweaty hand was constantly pressing down on top of you, trying to ram you into the sand. All chatter and gossip slowly died away as we got further in, until nobody seemed to be able to do much more than slog miserably and silently over the endless dunes, occasionally having to scare off the scant wildlife that somehow managed to survive out there, some of whom got a bit overconfident.

            “There it is,” Alistair said eventually, relief plainly evident in his voice as he pointed to a building in the distance. It was smaller than I’d expected, less of a fortress and more of an outpost. “Everyone ready?”

            “Ready to get it done and get back to civilisation,” Dorian said. “If any of you ever hear me complain about Ferelden being cold again, please do feel free to slap me.”

            “Done!” Sera said immediately.

            “Hm. I feel I may come to regret that.”

            “We’re ready,” I said. “Let’s get this done, then we can all go and throw ourselves in the sea.”

            “Thought you didn’t like the sea,” Sera said.

            “After this place, I’m willing to make an exception.”

            The walk to the tower was torturous. Then we turned up just in time to witness a Grey Warden kill another Grey Warden, using the death to bind a demon. Fuck the Western Approach, man.

            Some sneaky-looking rat-man with Disney villain facial hair was presiding over all this horribleness. As we jogged up (barely too late to save the Warden, sorry mate) he started making overdramatic gestures and talking like a Disney villain to boot. “Inquisitor! What an unexpected pleasure! Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service!”

            “I’m guessing you’re not a Warden,” Alistair said, while I was dumbstruck over the display of creeptastic phantasmagoria I was being treated to.

            “But you are,” Erimond sneered. “The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?”

            “You’re not going to enjoy how this goes, mate, trust me,” I said. “Am I meant to be scared of you killing your own people or something?”

            “Oh, him? We simply needed his blood,” Erimond said. “I hope you didn’t come here looking for any remorse from the Wardens.” He demonstrated what he meant, making them raise and lower their arms in a horrible game of Simon Says.

            “Corypheus has enslaved them!” Alistair said.

            “They did this to themselves,” Erimond said, just oozing smug self-satisfaction. “You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked everywhere for help. And since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I came to Clarel full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan. Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

            “No,” Solas gasped.

            “The demon army,” I said with a laugh, turning to the team. “The Grey Warden thing is the same as the demon army thing! Oh, thank God for that, we’ve combined two horrible things into one. Technically that’s one point we can cross off the to-do list, right?”

            “You… you already know about it, do you?” Erimond actually sounded thrown off by my response, so, score one for Emma. “Well then, there you are. Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They’re now my master’s slaves. This was a test, you see. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

            “Fuck off will they,” I said. “We’re going to stop them, and you, and that mangled blightmare of a boss of yours. Just because you’ve made the Wardens –”

            “I have made them do nothing!” he interrupted, looking frustrated. “The Wardens did everything of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were… very afraid.”

            “That’s a lie!” Blackwall yelled. “The Grey Wardens are heroes, they would never do this willingly!”

            “The Grey Wardens care about nothing but stopping Blights,” Erimond sneered. “They will do anything to accomplish that. You should have seen Clarel agonise over the decision. Burdens of command, I suppose.”

            “Do you ever shut the fuck up, you smarmy prick?” I snapped. What can I say, the heat was really getting to me by that point.

            Erimond didn’t like that. His smirk soured into a scowl as he spat, “So uncouth. You really are nothing more than a jumped-up commoner, aren’t you, you little knife-eared brat? No matter. My master also taught me how to deal with you.”

            Before I could say anything else he reached out a hand and, with a flash of red light, set the Anchor off. It was like when Corypheus had done the same thing back at Haven, a sudden blinding pain all the way up to my mid-forearm, like I’d jammed my hand into a bear trap that was also inside a tank of acid that was somehow also on fire, like some kind of later-entry Saw trap. Agony.

            But… not quite as painful as before. I could think past the pain, just about. Even as Erimond launched into a smug rant about how easy I’d been to subdue, I used the Anchor to open and close a small rift right in front of him, something I hadn’t known I could do until right then. The resulting blast of energy slammed the bastard back into the wall behind him.

            “Are you alright, da’len?” Solas asked as I staggered back to my feet.

            “Never better.”

            I wanted to go after Erimond straight away, but as he scrambled away, seemingly near tears, he took just enough time to set his brainwashed Grey Wardens on us. By the time we dealt with them, that weaselly little fuck was long gone. Alistair and Hawke volunteered to track him before returning to Skyhold, and since the rest of us were desperate to get out of that fucking desert (and yes, I had a lot of stuff to get done before the ball) I agreed to let them go.

            “We must prevent the Grey Wardens from enacting this insane plan, da’len,” Solas said as we trudged towards Griffin Wing Keep, a fortress Cullen had earmarked as a useful outpost which Cassandra insisted we had to reclaim from Venatori forces before we were allowed to leave the fucking Approach. Solas kept his voice low, but he sounded rattled. Very rattled. “This idea of killing Archdemons to prevent the Blights is… unnerving. Some things are better left undisturbed.”

            “Not to mention the demon army,” I said with a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it all sorted. Hopefully once they know the Calling they’re hearing is fake it’ll stop them from thinking this is a good idea.”

            “They are fools,” he muttered. “Erimond had that much right. They are consumed with nothing more than the certainty that they are the world’s only hope against the blight, and thus any action they take to combat it must be right and good.”

            “Blackwall’s alright,” I pointed out. “And Alistair seems nice.”

            “Yet their brothers just willingly murdered others of their order to bind demons.”

            “Well, you’ve got me there.” I bumped my shoulder against his. “We’ll stop them. I promise.”

            “I hope so, da’len,” he sighed. “Truly I do.”

*

Our route back to Skyhold took us through slightly better environments, and the day after we made it into some place called the Exalted Plains Solas came to me as we were breaking down camp, looking tired and worried. “Da’len, might I trouble you for a moment?”

            “Yeah, of course. Always, you know that. What’s up?”

            “I’m afraid I need a favour.”

            “Whatever you need.”

            He smiled wearily. “Thank you. It seems one of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept.”

            “Holy shit, okay. Well, we’ll fix it, no worries.” I slung my staff onto my back, thinking about it. “Not to sound like a dick, but I didn’t know you had friends. You’ve never mentioned them.”

            “They are a spirit of Wisdom, rather than a person of flesh and blood. That is how they were captured, mages drew them into a summoning circle against their will.”

            “Ohhh, yeah, that tracks,” I said, nodding, which made him smile again. “Well, if you can give us a heading, we’ll sort it out. Set them free, get them back into the Fade, whatever it is they want, right?”

            “As simple as that?” he said softly.

            “They’re your friend,” I shrugged. “You’re my friend. I hate to think of a sentient creature getting trapped and messed with like that. So yeah, give us some directions and we’ll go and break them out. I’ve never met a spirit of Wisdom. Do you think they’d hang around and chat once we’ve set them free?”

            Solas gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, something like a mixture of pride and concern. “They would prefer not to be in the waking world, but it may be that once they have returned safely to the Fade they will be happy to meet with us there. Do you mean that? You would like to spend time with them, as though they were a person?”

            “Yeah, of course. You might need to give me a hand with the Somniari stuff to get me into the Fade and all, but yeah. I’d like to meet one of your mates.”

            It looked like he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “I would like that as well. I will tell Cassandra where we need to go. Thank you, Emma.”

*

                        The summoning circle was, thankfully, somewhere else in the Exalted Plains, so luckily we weren’t too far and got there in decent time. Of course, then it turned out that half the place was full of demons fighting Orlesian soldiers. Cassandra pointed out that the spirit thing probably required less manpower, so it was just me, Solas, Blackwall, Cole, and Dorian who went on towards the spot Solas thought his friend was, while the others stayed back to try to clear the ramparts of demons.

            We found a mage corpse first, full of arrows, who Blackwall checked and said had probably been shot while running away. A little further on there were more bodies, though these had been burned and slashed apart, something that had Solas freaking out a bit. He tore past me, running on ahead, only to slide to a stop with a gasp.

            Up ahead, there was a rough circle of glowing pillars that looked almost like stalagmites, waves of power emanating from each, linking them. In the centre of the circle stood a Pride demon, which didn’t look at all happy with its confinement.

            “My friend,” Solas choked out.

            “But that… that’s a Pride demon,” I pointed out, like a halfwit, as if that wasn’t blatantly obvious. “You said your friend was a spirit of Wisdom, so how has this happened, exactly?”

            “A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose,” he explained tersely. “They must have summoned my friend, and then commanded them to fight. This was the result.”

            “Fucking hell,” I said. “I didn’t know that was a thing. Is that common knowledge?”

            “It should be, to anyone familiar with magic,” Solas snarled. His eyes were fixed on the mage who was hesitantly approaching us, and he looked murderous.

            “Mages!” the guy coming at us said, eyes going from me to Solas to Dorian. “You’re not with the bandits?” Before we could respond, he went on with, “Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We’ve been fighting that demon –”

            “You summoned that demon!” Solas barked. “Except it was a spirit of Wisdom at the time! You made it kill! You twisted it against its purpose!”

            “I… I understand it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons –”

            “Hoo, no, you don’t want to be pulling that shit,” I said as Solas inflated beside me. “Trust me, my friend here knows more about spirits and demons than you could ever hope to learn.”

            “Listen to me,” the dumbass said, “I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle –”

            “Shut up,” Solas and I said together.

            “Fuck this guy, Solas, what can we do?” I said, turning to him. When Kirkwall’s Finest tried to speak again I just made a dismissive wanking gesture until he stopped. “Surely there’s something we can do to help your friend?”

            “The summoning circle,” Solas said immediately. “We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

            “Alright,” I said, turning to the others. “Lads, you heard the man, we’re taking down the summoning circle.” They agreed, some with better grace (Cole) than others (Dorian. Blackwall was surprisingly sanguine about the idea). When the Kirkwall mage started up his whining again, I just snapped, “I don’t want to hear another fucking word out of you! Out of the way, dickhead.”

            Not that it was easy, of course, the demon was coming at us the whole time we were taking down the stone circle, sending out bolts of electricity and making wild grabs for us. But we managed it in the end, and as the last stone fell the giant, hulking demon melted into the form of a woman, glowing faintly green all over, their eyes gleaming with the light of the Fade.

            Solas knelt in front of them, and they spoke together in elven for a while. Then Solas gestured, and the spirit faded in a way that suggested they weren’t exactly happily returning to the Fade. They’d been damaged too much, by the idiots who’d summoned them, and now they were dead, as much as spirits and demons could die. I could tell just by looking at Solas’ face.

            “I’m sorry,” I whispered, going over to kneel next to him and putting a hand on his back. “I’m so sorry. I wish we could have… Is there anything I can do?”

            He smiled sadly and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him for a moment. “You have already done more than enough, da’len. Thank you.” With that he stood, turning towards the mages, who were lingering awkwardly nearby. “All that remains now is them.”

            “Thank you,” the Kirkwall guy said, apparently oblivious to just how furious Solas was as I hurriedly got up. “We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.”

            “You tortured and killed my friend,” Solas growled, starting towards them.

            I grabbed for his arm, holding on even as he turned back to me with his eyes blazing. “Solas, hang on. I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret, alright?”

            “They tortured and killed my friend, da’len,” he said, pained.

            He didn’t have to say anything more. He wouldn’t regret what he was about to do, no more than I’d regret getting revenge for him or Cole or any of the others. What would I have done, had it been one of my friends? If someone had kidnapped Dorian, tortured him for days, only for me to turn up just in time to watch him die? Would I let them walk away alive?

            “Okay,” I whispered, letting him go.

            Solas looked briefly astonished, before he nodded, turned, and killed the mages, all of them, with surprisingly few bursts of power. When he was done, he spoke without turning around. “I need some time alone. I will meet up with you later.” Then he was gone, striding off into the plains by himself.

            I turned back to the team, picking at my thumbnail, trying not to look at all those dead mages. “Listen, lads, I’d really appreciate it if this stayed between us. I hate to ask you to lie to the team, even if it just comes down to a lie of omission, but… I’d be grateful if we didn’t tell everyone about this.”

            “Of course,” Cole said.

            “Emma,” Dorian sighed.

            “Please, Dee. For me? If it was one of you, I’d have done exactly the same thing without a second thought, alright? I’m not going to judge Solas for it, but some of the others might. I’d rather just… tell them we fixed the demon issue and leave it at that. Please?”

            Dorian sighed again, but he nodded. “For you,” he said softly.

            “Nobody’s business but ours,” Blackwall said. “You have my word on that.”

            “Knew I could trust you, Wall.”        

            “Always, lass. Always.”

*

                        Solas caught up to us the next evening, walking into camp just after it was set up and taking a seat beside me as I stared into the fire. He put an arm around me, pulling me in and giving me a peck on the side of my head.

            “Are you alright?” I asked, quietly enough for the others not to overhear.

            “Better than before. I have to thank you, da’len. You did everything you could to help, and when that was not enough you stood aside and let me do what I must in retribution. It meant a lot to me, more than you know. Most do not see spirits as anything like people, worthy of friendship or loyalty or love. But you did. You helped me as though my friend were human, and I will never forget it.”

            I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just leaned against him for a while, hoping that would afford him some comfort. Eventually, I said, “Will they… I mean, spirits and all, is there a chance that they might not be fully gone?”

            He sighed. “When a spirit dies in the waking world, their energy returns to the Fade. If the idea giving them form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again.”

            “Then they might come back?” I said hopefully, looking up at him. “They might not be gone forever?”

            With a sad, sad smile, he said, “No. A spirit’s natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may re-form one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew.”

            That sounded even worse than them straight up dying. Just the thought of losing someone, only for it to turn out that even if I could get them back, they wouldn’t even remember me? It chilled me to my bones. Plain and simple death would be kinder. Mine or theirs, I wasn't fussy. Anything to avoid having to face that death of self. 

            “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder.

            “Thank you, Emma,” he said, leaning his head against mine, and together we sat and watched the fire.

Chapter Text

“This is a terrible idea, I hope you know,” Dorian said. “A strong contender for the worst I’ve ever heard.”

            “Nah, it’s fine.”

            We were on the balcony outside Leliana’s level of the rotunda. I was perched on the wall, legs swinging free over the abyss. There was nothing below me but empty space, all the way down into the courtyard, the longest drop in the fortress without my scrambling up onto the roof.

            “If you go through with this, you’re certainly going to die.”

            “Nope. Listen, I’ve fallen down the stairs twice since we got here, right? The main stairs, even –”

            “You really do need constant minding, don’t you?”

            “—and I didn’t get so much as a scratch. And you were there when I jumped from the terrace down into the garden.”

            He scoffed. “That fall could have been survivable simply by rolling as you landed –”

            “Which I very much did not.”

            “—this one is suicide! Besides which, what if you land on a person?”

            “Already thought of that!” I pointed downwards, the sudden movement making him flinch and gasp. “I’ve got Sera and the lads forming a sort of safety cordon down there. It’ll be fine, Dee.”

            He gave a frustrated huff, rubbing his forehead. “This is lunacy. What happens if you’re wrong? You’ll hit the ground and explode!”

            “One, I’m not wrong, I know it. Two, even if I am, I’ll land feet first. I can start healing myself with my magic hand, meanwhile you grab Solas and come running to help fix me up. Okay?”

            “Not –”

            I couldn’t wait any longer. Not only was there the concern that someone else might walk out there and wrestle me off the ledge, but I knew that the longer I delayed, the more I let Dorian try to talk sense into me, the more likely it was that I’d lose my nerve, back out, and never know whether I was right or not. And I had to prove I was right, because I was sure I was. Like, 85%.

            So, I jumped.

            For a moment, as I fell, weightless, my stomach lurching while Dorian yelled above me, I was certain I’d made a mistake. I had to fight against the desperate urge to switch to a bird and fly back up. But I resisted it, and a few seconds later slammed into the ground near the little market, causing many cries of surprise.

            “Boss? Boss? You good?”

            “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Sera yelled, hands pressed over her eyes. “She’s frigging dead, I knew it!”

            “She’s alright,” Cole said. “Falling, fearing, but free from –”

            “Shut it, Creepy, you’re not making this better!”

            “He’s right, Sera,” I said, then laughed wildly. “I’m fine. Holy shit, I’m fine!”

            Bull held out a hand, and I allowed him to haul me to my feet, feeling for any pain as I went. I hadn’t so much as scuffed my knees or palms, never mind breaking any bones. I looked back up at the balcony I’d dropped from, so far overhead, and laughed again.

            “That was awesome, Boss!” Bull yelled with a booming laugh.

            “One for the book, for sure,” Varric said.

            “Wicked.” Sera had peeked through her hands to make sure I really was still alive and in one piece, and she was smiling. “Still hate magic, though.”

            “I’m not sure this is magic,” I admitted.

            Dorian came tearing down the stairs, wild-eyed, Solas hot on his heels, having apparently realised something was happening when Dorian sprinted through the rotunda looking horrified. They both slid to a halt when they saw me standing there, smiling and unharmed. Dorian leaned over, hands on his knees as he gulped down deep breaths. After a pause, Solas came over to take me by the shoulders, turning me from side to side to check me over.

            “What exactly happened here?” he asked slowly.

            “Emmakins jumped off the roof,” Sera said brightly.

            “Not the roof, but the balcony,” Cole corrected. “She –”

            “It’s talking at me again!”

            “I realised falling doesn’t hurt me,” I jumped in before things could get too badly sidetracked. “Only here, though, in Skyhold.”

            “And it only works for her,” Bull added, shrugging when everyone looked at him. “Jumped off the garden terrace after I saw the Boss try it, and trust me, it wasn’t great.”

            “Jesus, Bull.”

            “Just curious by nature, Boss.”

            “I don’t know that it’s magic, either,” I told Solas. “I don’t feel like I’m doing magic or anything on the way down, or while landing. It just happens.”

            “I see.” Solas closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “And rather than discussing your suspicions with me, you elected to launch yourself from the highest point you could find?”

            “Uh. Just curious by nature?”

            Blackwall nudged Sera, whispering, “Someone’s going to get grounded,” which made her snicker.

            Solas sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Gentlemen – and Sera – would you please give us a moment?”

            They wandered off, Bull rubbing Dorian’s back, as the poor guy was still wheezing slightly. “If you’re going to scold me,” I said, “we should probably go somewhere with fewer witnesses first. Got to think about my reputation now, after all.”

            It felt weirdly reminiscent of when my parents would come home from parent-teacher evenings in my schooldays, to share with me just how many teachers had told them ‘Emma is a bright girl who needs to buckle down and pay attention in class’. I wasn’t even gossiping or anything fun like that, I just used to daydream all the time.

            To my surprise, Solas chuckled. “I won’t scold you, da’len.” He gestured for us to sit on the steps. “This place has a power to it. The site was important to the ancient elves, and it has been settled regularly since then. The power of those ancients remains in the land, magic seeping out of the very mountain into the stones of the fortress. Magic of protection, safety.”

            “Then why does it only work for me?” I shrugged. “If it’s protecting the fortress, why can’t everyone go around yeeting themselves off roofs?”

            He was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, thoughtfully, he said, “Possibly it’s because you are the leader here. The magic of this place may have identified you as such, and thus singled you out for extra care as a result. Possibly it may be because of the presence of the Anchor. It seems to be linked to the Orb, after all, which is itself a relic of Elvhenan. It might be that the magic of the site recognises the magic within you, and protects you accordingly.”

            “Huh.” I gave the Mark a considering look. “That makes sense, actually, yeah. Does that mean I can’t be stabbed or whatever while on the grounds too?”

            Laughing again, he said, “Perhaps, though I could not recommend you try it. Good afternoon, Commander.”

            I looked around, realising Cullen had walked up while we’d been speaking. He was flushed, and it looked like Solas had spoken to him just as he was about to creep away. “Ah, yes,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but… Might I have a moment of your time, Inquisitor?”

            “As it happens, I was just about to get back to my reading,” Solas said with a smile. He squeezed my shoulder briefly as he went, and I hopped up.

            “Everything okay?” I asked.

            “Oh, yes. Though I did hear someone might have had a fall –”

            I laughed. “Sorry, that was me. I’ll explain.”

*

                        We went for a stroll along the battlements, making it to the highest point before I’d fully explained how I’d spent my morning. “Well,” Cullen said once I was finished. “I can’t approve of your methods, but I admire your adventurous spirit all the same.” When I laughed, he smiled broadly, pausing to rest his hands on the outer wall. I leaned beside him, looking out at the mountains around us, the valley far below.

            “It’s beautiful here,” I sighed. “A bit sharp, you know, hard-edged, but stunning. We’re sort of known for our mountains back home, and some of them are pretty big, but they’re nowhere near all of this.”

            “We have more rolling hills than real mountains where I’m from,” he said, smiling wistfully. “I used to think nothing could be bigger than the hills around Honnleath. When I finally saw the Frostbacks…”

            “Perspective,” I said, making him smile. It was a wan, uncertain sort of smile, though. “Are you alright? You seem a bit… I don’t know. Is it the lyrium?”

            “No, no, I… in truth, I…” He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his head. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t think this would be so hard.”

            “Alright, now I’m concerned.”

            “No, I didn’t mean… I…” Taking a deep breath, he walked a few steps away, turned around, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Inquisitor – Emma, I mean, Emma. I care for you a great deal.”

            My heart started speeding up. “I take it you’re not talking in a strictly professional capacity.”

            “No,” he said with a breathless laugh. “Though I do admire you professionally. To have had such circumstances thrust upon you, the care you have shown those under your command. But on a personal level, the way you have suffered such a great personal loss, without allowing it to harden you. That you’re still so ready to laugh, so eager to make those around you laugh, despite the pain I’ve seen in you. You are remarkable. And…” He took another breath. “And beautiful. And while I may be speaking out of turn, I had to let you know that my feelings for you aren’t only those of a man towards his superior officer, uh, but… I… romantic… intent…”

            Cullen’s voice trailed off into disconnected mumbling, his face adorably red, his eyes very bright. My heart was beating so hard I could feel my pulse fluttering in my neck, and my legs felt like they’d been filled with TV static. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe, and I desperately wished I was better at this sort of thing. How could we both be so terrible at romance?

            “I get it,” I said weakly. My stomach wasn’t just doing flips, it was up to a whole bloody Olympic gymnastics floor routine in there. I was genuinely concerned I might hurl, which I felt would spoil the mood a bit. “Um. Yeah. I… feel the same way. I have for a while. Initially, I was just worried about the mage stuff, Kirkwall –”

            “I cannot take back my actions before I joined the Inquisition.” He lowered his gaze. “All I can swear to you is that I’m trying to be more worthy than that man, and that my feelings for you would be entirely unchanged, mage or otherwise.”

            “Then… okay,” I grinned. “It’ll probably cause a big scandal, and people are definitely going to gossip –”

            “People do little else,” he said, stepping towards me, gaze fixed on my mouth, which just made my heart race faster. It felt like my whole head was about to pop off.

            “—and I don’t care. About any of that. I just think, with everything we’ve been through, we deserve to at least try for a bit of happiness, don’t we?”

            “I agree.”

            His arms came up around me, pressing me back against the cold stone of the parapet wall, a solidity that anchored me in the moment. As my face turned up to his I was suddenly back in the moment I’d dropped from the balcony, heart racing, stomach leaping, adrenaline and anticipation making my fingers tingle as they came up to twist into the fur of his collar, afraid to touch him directly, afraid that might be too much for me…

            “Commander Cullen, ser.”

            It was like getting doused with cold water. I wasn’t even sure where I was for a second. Even when Cullen turned to growl at the poor soldier who’d interrupted us, I mostly just stared at the guy like a deer in headlights, absolutely no thoughts in my head. I couldn’t feel my legs.

            I felt like I should say something, but there just weren’t any words. Then the soldier went scurrying away, and without a second of hesitation Cullen spun around, gently took hold of the back of my head, and pulled me into a kiss. Fucking finally.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking away before we could really get into it. “That was… really nice.”    

            “Less talking,” I said, feeling a bit drunk. “More kissing.” God, he smelled amazing, like elderflower and something else, something that made me think of the woods.

            He gave a breathy chuckle that made me shiver, in the best way, and said, “As you command, my lady.”

            Our mouths met again, this time getting more into it, lips parting for our tongues to get involved. Aware of the fact we were in full view out there I knew we couldn’t go further than kissing, which was probably for the best given how hard my heart was beating already. As it was, our mouths hot on each other, Cullen’s hands stroking up and down my ribs, the warm weight of his body pressing me back against the stone wall… It was almost too much to handle. It was perfect. It was everything.

            Oh, hey. That meant I had a date for the ball. Nice.

Chapter Text

We got to Halamshiral a day before the ball, staying overnight in some manor house Vivienne had swung for us. I thought this was to scout the area before we went wading in, but it turned out it was because Josephine, Leliana, and Vivienne thought I needed a full day to get ready for the bloody thing. I tried very hard not to be offended.

            I had to admit, they knocked it out of the park. When they finally allowed me to see myself, it was to find my hair (which I’d grown out since taking over, it was well past my shoulders by then) artfully pinned up, makeup applied to enhance the sharpness of Ellana’s cheekbones (as well as the vallaslin there), and the rest of me wrapped in a forest green dress with a fitted bodice that actually managed to make something out of my boobs. The dress came with a flouncy skirt, and secret leggings underneath.

            “If it comes to battle, the skirt detaches!” Leliana said enthusiastically, showing me the hidden hooks and eyes that facilitated this.

            “Truly the pinnacle of functional fashion,” Vivienne said, sounding entirely serious. “I almost hope you do have cause to fight in public, this would be the talk of the court for the next year.”

            “Maybe I can celebrate saving the empress by whipping off my skirt,” I said, mildly concerned when they seemed to be genuinely considering that as a possibility. “This dress is gorgeous, anyway. I was sure we were going to have to wear a uniform or something.”

            “To a ball?” Josephine clutched her chest. “No! The gentlemen will be expected to wear appropriate military dress, but we ladies will be wearing dresses.”

            “Nice. Okay. And weapons?”

            “Gael’s people will be nearby to dispense them when necessary,” Leliana said, smiling as she added, “Be prepared to catch a thrown staff, should a fight break out in the main hall.”

            I was actually weirdly excited as I descended the manor’s main staircase into the foyer to join the others. Sera wolf-whistled as soon as I came into view, making me blush and shake my head. Yeah, I was heading out to stop a high-profile assassination, but I was also going to a real, honest-to-God rich people ball! In a fancy ball gown, no less! I decided I was allowed to be a little excited, as a treat.

            “Go on then, give us a twirl,” Sera said when I reached the ground floor. She whistled again as I complied, setting me giggling. “My dress isn’t that nice.”

            “Society protocol,” Josephine said primly. “Everyone must be wearing the house – or in our case, the organisation’s – colours, and the head of the organisation is expected to be the most finely dressed. Just be lucky we are not also expected to wear masks.”

            That explained why everyone was wearing shades of green. Nice greens, though, forest and emerald, not the olive drab of the regular uniforms or lime or something. The guys were all in something that looked sort of like military dress uniform, while the women were all in essentially the same dress, with varying levels of flouncy skirt and bodice-detailing, I assumed depending on their social standing. Seeing Cassandra in a big fancy dress was weird in a way I couldn’t describe. She looked much less happy to be in a dress than I was.

            “You all look wonderful, ladies,” Blackwall said, eyes on Josephine. When she smiled and ducked her head, uncharacteristically flustered, he turned to Sera and gruffly added, “Even you.”

            “Oh yeah, cheers.” She windmilled her arms around. “All I care about is that I can get a shot off, innit?”

            I’d quietly made eye contact with Cullen in the meantime. He looked amazing in his uniform, the cut of the jacket giving me a much better look at him than his usual armour did, and I’d been right about the clothes making him look bigger. He was still buff as fuck, like, but given I was weirdly off-put by burly guys (I’ve always said my version of peak masculine hotness is ‘Slendermanesque’, or perhaps ‘looks frightening when backlit in fog’) finding out he was a leaner buff than expected was a pleasant surprise.

            Judging by the way his gaze kept trampolining up and down, all the way from my fancy updo to my flouncy skirt with a longer pause around the chest region (though never lingering quite long enough to be unchivalrous), he similarly approved of my whole deal. We exchanged brief, shy smiles, before Josephine announced we were close enough to the Winter Palace to ‘promenade’ there, and ushered us out.

            I fell in step beside Dorian as we strolled along. He linked his arm through mine, leaned in close, and said, “Have a thing for strapping young templars, do we?”

            My face heated, though I was sure the makeup would have caught most of my blush, and I utilised all of Leliana’s lessons to respond with nothing more than an enigmatic smile as I said, “We were that obvious just now, were we?”

            “Not especially subtle, no. Though I think it was watching you grope each other on the battlements that –”

            “What?” I ground my teeth together as he stifled laughter. Lowering my voice, I said, “How did you –”

            “After we left you to your scolding we bumped into Seeker Cassandra, who was coming to investigate the news of you have thrown yourself off the building. We were stood in the upper courtyard –”

            “No way you could have seen us from there,” I whispered.

            “—when Solas informed us you had gone for a stroll with the commander.” He smiled, and I swear to God he was so insufferably smug in that moment he looked like that fucking knife-cat meme. “So, we… may have climbed the battlements until we caught sight of you.”

            “Who’s ‘we’ here?” I spluttered.

            “All of us who witnessed your plummet, along with the Seeker. Solas unfortunately declined.”

            Dorian gestured and I looked around. Varric, Sera, and Bull were all giving me very enthusiastic thumbs up. Blackwall, a true gentleman, was pretending not to notice anything, while Cole and Solas were talking to each other and seemed to genuinely be uninvolved. That was until I happened to catch Solas’ eye, and he briefly grinned before looking away. Cassandra, meanwhile, was talking quietly to Cullen, whose ears had gone very red.

            “Everyone,” I said. I couldn’t cover my face the way I wanted, not when the ladies had spent so long on my makeup. “Almost all my friends stood there and watched me make out against a parapet. Je-sus. Tell me you covered Cole’s eyes, at least?”

            “I’m sure it was very educational for the young man,” Dorian said. “I was sure one of you was going to fumble it, you know. When that soldier interrupted, I thought Sera would put an arrow in the poor man.”

            “I’m glad everyone’s so invested,” I muttered, and he kissed the side of my head with a chuckle.

*

                        I walked through the gates of the Winter Palace to be greeted by the man who’d sponsored the Inquisition into getting invites, Grand Duke Gaspard. All I knew about the guy was that he’d started a civil war to try to snatch the throne, and that he’d specifically invited me there just to, like… see what happened.

            “Inquisitor Morgan!” he said jovially as I walked through my honour guard, trying to keep my head up and my shoulders back the way Leliana expected of me. “We meet at last! I’ve heard so much about you. Bringing the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move. Now, imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful emperor of Orlais.”

            “Which would be yourself, your Highness?” That was something Leliana had told me – if in doubt, ask a question with a smile.

            “But of course, my lady. And remember this – I am not a man who forgets my friends. You help me, and I’ll help you. Prepared to shock the assembly by appearing as the guest of a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age.”

            “I have always loved making a dramatic entrance.”

            Gaspard grinned. “I knew we would get along famously, Inquisitor.” Lowering his voice, he stepped in closer, close enough that I had to resist the urge to step back. “As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. This elven woman, Briala – I suspect she plans to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found her ‘ambassadors’ all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

            So, there it was. Not even inside the building yet, and he was already asking me to do him a favour. A favour that meant working against elves who just wanted to further their cause, no less. Ah, man. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling quite so jazzed.

            He was waiting for a response, so through my ever-present smile I said, “Yeah, that sounds like something I’ll look into.”

            “Very good, my lady. If anyone in that room wishes Celene harm, it’s that elf. She certainly has reason. But please, be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well our enemies will make us look like villains.”

            “I understand. Believe me, your Highness, I’m known for my discretion,” I said, as if everyone I knew hadn’t watched me macking on the commander of my armies just days earlier.

            “I shall wait for you in the vestibule, my lady.” Gaspard kissed my hand. “The court awaits us.”

            “I’ll join you shortly.”

            Gaspard bowed and headed on inside, and I felt really confident about my performance for the three seconds it took for nearby nobles to notice me, at which point one of them whispered, in tones of scandalised horror, “Is that the Inquisitor?”

            “A Dalish? Surely not!”

            It was suddenly a monumental task to keep that polite smile on my face, pretending I hadn’t heard them. I even kept smiling when a young lady called me ‘rabbit’ in the process of drafting me into help her find some ring she’d lost. Once I found the thing for her, I politely introduced myself as the Inquisitor, and while she didn’t apologise for assuming I was a servant, she at least greeted me more enthusiastically. The whole time, I was wearing that brainless fucking smile.

            Josephine was lurking around at the main entrance, waiting for me. “That was a clever move, my lady,” she said, nodding to the noblewoman, who was by then singing my praises to a group of her friends. “You have shown your kindness in helping a stranger, and your benevolence by not taking offence at being mistaken for a servant.”

            “Or I’ve just encouraged people to treat me like a servant,” I muttered.

            “Not at all,” she assured me. “Now, you must remember that the Game is no less lethal than anything you have faced. Truly, you were safer facing down Corypheus.”

            “Oh great, yeah. Really looking forward to it.” I clicked my teeth together a few times, considering. “Um. Think Blackwall would agree to babysit Sera for the evening?”

            “An excellent idea, my lady. I will speak to him at once.”

            “Cool. Cool. Well, better get to it.”

            I headed inside, leaving Josephine to do the necessary informing, only to find Cullen waiting for me at the bottom of an extremely fancy flight of stairs. We smiled at each other, and he risked a quick squeeze of my hand before we began climbing into the vestibule proper.

            “I meant to tell you earlier,” he said, so quiet he was barely audible, “you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

            “And you look especially handsome. So, listen, turns out –”

            “Everyone already knows about us, yes. Cassandra made that abundantly clear on the walk over.”

            “Oh. Did she… I mean, are we, like, allowed –”

            “You’re the Inquisitor.” We stopped at the top of the grand staircase, trying very hard to look like we were just discussing security for the evening or something. “It might cause a moderate scandal, but ultimately it’s our choice to make. Cassandra herself approves, for what it’s worth. She asked only that, for tonight at least, we remain discreet.”

            “I was going to say I’m surprised, but… Did you hear about that thing the other week, where I had to bully Varric into finishing another edition of his romance serial because it turns out Cassandra’s his biggest fan?”

            Cullen let out an inelegant snort, rubbing his mouth to hide his smirk. “I would never have guessed.”

            “Oh yeah, she’s trying to keep it quiet, but Cass is very into romance novels. Sweet, really.” I looked over to where Gaspard was waiting and sighed. “Anyway. Time to be a showpony.”

*           

                        Being presented to the court ended up about as horrible as I could have imagined. I swear I heard gasps when I first stepped into view, actual shocked gasps. Then I had to walk, incredibly slowly, across the entire dancefloor, which was just unnecessarily big. As I walked, the railings surrounding the floor sounded like a forest in a breeze – an ongoing susurrus, the only words I could make out, over and over, were ‘Dalish’, ‘rabbit’, and ‘knife-ear’, along with a chorus of scandalised titters.

            It gave me vivid flashbacks to school, and the rage I was choking down was so intense I only dimly registered that Sera had given her name as “Mai Ballsitch of Korse”, for some unearthly reason Solas had decided to describe himself as my ‘elven serving man’, and Cullen’s middle name was Stanton. Real mixed bag there.

            “Did you see their faces?” Gaspard snickered when I caught up to him at the far side. “Priceless!”

            Oh, I was angry-angry. Thank fuck for all the training the girls had put me through, because that was the only reason I made it to the other side of the room and met the empress with that inane smile still in place.

            Gaspard and Celene had a bit of back and forth, which I couldn’t really make out through the indignant fury. I only started listening again when Gaspard did the most sarcastic bow I’d ever seen and said goodbye to me, at which point the empress introduced me to the woman standing up there beside her, Gaspard’s sister Florianne.

            “I had no idea the Inquisition would be present at tonight’s proceedings,” Florianne said, throwing Celene a dark look. Something about her delivery made the back of my neck prickle. Maybe she just meant she’d have worn something different, or even that she didn’t want to be seen at any soiree that had knife-ears as honoured guests, but… something about it seemed oh shit Celene was talking to me.

            “Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day. Tell me, how do you find Halamshiral?”

            The urge to say, “I didn’t find it, Leliana put me in a cart and here I am,” was nearly overwhelming. To prevent myself from being beaten to death out back by Josephine, I instead said, “In all honesty, your Radiance, I don’t have the words. I have seen many wonders since coming to Thedas, and the Winter Palace outshines them all.”

            Celene smiled under her mask. “Your modesty does you credit,” she said warmly, “and speaks well of the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.”

            Well, at least someone fucking was. I dropped a quick bow and made for the stairs out of the dancefloor as quickly as decorum allowed, only to find Leliana waiting for me. “A word?” she said, before leading me back out into the vestibule.

            “Sorry,” I sighed once we’d found an unoccupied couch to sit on. “How did I cock up?”

            “You did quite well, in fact. That was not what I wished to discuss.”

            “Oh, neat.”

            Turns out what was actually up was that Celene had some sort of mystic advisor, and Leliana thought this woman was the most likely person to attack Celene. An apostate advisor, who Leliana somehow knew from before, who might well be using blood magic to enchant the court.

            “I’ll bear it in mind,” I said. “Though this ‘the best place to strike at Celene is from her side’ thing. I’m getting bad vibes from Florianne.”

            “What makes you say so?”

            “Vibes. Can’t be more specific, I’m afraid.”

            “Hmm. It would be a strange development. Even through the issues Celene and Gaspard have had, Florianne has stood on the sidelines, seemingly neutral. But I will keep an eye on her.”

            She directed me towards the servant’s quarters and headed back into the ballroom, and I wandered off to see how the others were getting on. I found Blackwall and Sera first, hidden away together near some statues.

            “He’s not letting me near the drinks,” Sera said by way of greeting.

            “And I thank him for it,” I said. “This isn’t a fun night out, mate, and I don’t need you getting wasted and mooning all the nobles.”

            Sera laughed uproariously and said, “I would. I would do that.”

            “We know,” Blackwall said fondly. “I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry. We’ll be ready if you need us.”

            “Awesome, thanks. Anyone had eyes on Cole since coming in?”

            “I’m here.” We looked up to find him leaning over the railing from the floor above. “I tried to help, but they made me stop. Now I’m staying out of the way.”

            “Okay. Whatever suits you, Baby Bird.”

            “I’ll keep an eye on the lad as well,” Blackwall told me quietly.

            I thanked him and moved on, only for Sera to call after me, “I’ve heard the servants talking, by the way. Some of ‘em knew I was Red Jenny, and they wanted me to know, there’s elven servants gone missing in the servant’s wing. If it matters.”

            “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, raising a hand as I went on my way. “Cheers.”

Chapter Text

I found Solas and Varric next, hanging out together in a circle of Varric’s adoring fans. Solas was wearing, just, the dumbest hat I’d ever seen, and both were quite clearly drunk. Which was saying something, given we hadn’t even been there an hour at that point.

            “Da’len!” Solas called cheerfully as I slipped through the crowd.

            “How are things going over here?”

            “Very well, yes,” Solas said, sounding alarmingly enthused. “I do enjoy the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events.”

            “You’re having a good time then?” I said, trying not to laugh. “People haven’t been dicks to you or anything?”

            He laughed. “The Orlesians do not quite know what to make of me – an elf who does not bow his head when they look at him. I have allowed Varric to maintain most of their attention, for fear of giving them some purchase to cling to. The food and drink are excellent, however, and the servants have been happy to refill my glass.”

            “Well, so long as someone’s enjoying themselves, that’s the main thing.” I considered trying to catch Varric’s attention, but he was occupied with telling a flock of wide-eyed women some anecdote about Kirkwall, so instead I just smiled at Solas and said, “I’ll see you later.”

            To my surprise, Solas grabbed me in a hug. “You look lovely tonight, da’len. I’m so pleased for you and the commander. I wish you every happiness.”

            “Thanks,” I said when he let me go. He patted me on the shoulder, grinned, and went back to chugging wine, leaving me to wander onwards.

            Dorian and Bull had also teamed up against the crowd, lingering near the buffet table. They had a circle of interested parties of their own, though no one was speaking directly to them. Bull was shoving slices of ham in his mouth when I walked up, mumbling, “It’s incredible, just try it.”

            “What’s incredible?”

            “The ham tastes of despair,” Dorian explained. “Perfect for a pair of social pariahs like us.”

            “It’s not that bad, surely? The social pariah stuff, I mean, not the ham.”

            “A Qunari and a Tevinter magister,” Bull snorted. “Oh yeah, we’re real popular. Here, Boss, try some.”

            “I’m not a magister,” Dorian sighed.

            “Still a Vint, though, pretty boy.”

            “You’re representatives of the Inquisition,” I said, accepting the slice of ham. “Whatever else you happen to be, they should be treating you with holy shit, that does taste like despair! How do you make food taste like a concept?”

            “Culinary wizardry,” Dorian said. “Have you seen the others?”

            “Vivienne and Josie are forcing Cassandra to mingle in the ballroom,” I said with a snicker. “Cass is less than pleased. Wall’s keeping Sera out of trouble, Cole’s in the rafters, and Varric and Solas are already drunk.”

            “At least someone’s having a good time,” Dorian said.

            “My sentiments exactly.”

            “Cheer up, pretty boy!” Bull prodded him in the shoulder. “There’s free food! It’s never a bad day when there’s free food.”

            “Inquisitor!” An older man detached from the nearest cluster of whisperers, holding out his hand for me to shake. “My lady, I am truly charmed to meet you. Duke Germain. I hear you are my nephew’s guest for the evening.”

            “You’re the Grand Duke’s uncle? My apologies, your Grace, I didn’t realise. Pleasure to meet you as well. Your nephew was most gracious to arrange for our invitations, I would have been gravely disappointed to miss out on a visit to the Winter Palace.”

            “Strange to hear Gaspard described as ‘gracious’,” Duke Germain said. “The boy has ever been bull-headed, and his determination to be emperor has only made him more insufferable.”

            “Well, I couldn’t speak to that,” I said. “Everyone has been unfailingly polite and welcoming to me here, your nephew most of all. Though I do hope my affiliation with the Grand Duke doesn’t put us at odds, your Grace?”

            “Not in the slightest, my dear girl.” He squeezed my forearm gently. “In fact, it speaks well of your disposition that even my nephew finds your companionship unobjectionable. Now, please excuse me, my lady.”

            We bowed to each other, and the duke drifted over to join another huddle of gossips, I assumed to report back what I’d said. I turned to Dorian and Bull and, through my eternal serene smile, said, “I wish I was dead.”

            Dorian managed nothing more than a stifled chuckle; Bull threw his head back and laughed so loud most of the room turned to look. I quickly made my goodbyes and headed off to continue my sneaky information gathering. A few servants nearby whispered something about the upper wing, so I slipped into a dark corner, went bird, and flew on up there, my poking around eventually turning up a letter from Celene to some ‘Lady M’ about ‘unpleasantness’ in the royal wing.

            Cutting back through the library meant bumping into Cole. “Hey, Baby Bird,” I said. “I’d have thought you’d have gone down to join Sera and Blackwall.”

            “Sera wouldn’t have liked that. Do you need me to fight?”

            “Soon, yeah. Could you do me a favour? Find Gael, grab some weapons for… say, yourself, Sera, Blackwall, and me, for now. I feel like we can sneak off easier than the others.”

            “Of course.” I’d turned away before he said, “Emma? Cullen shouldn’t be here.”

            I looked back at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

            “He’s afraid. They’re hunting him, following fear. His body is trapped, his mind back in the cage, taunted, tortured, harassed and harrowing.”

            “I didn’t realise,” I whispered. “He’s told me a little about what happened in the tower, but I didn’t think being somewhere like this would set that sort of thing off.”

            “The demons who hurt him used a lot of methods,” Cole said. “You couldn’t have known. Please don’t feel bad. He’ll appreciate it if you spend some time with him.”

            “Thanks, little man.” Without thinking, I stepped back over to him and gave him a hug. He didn’t seem to realise what was happening at first, just stood there with his arms limp at his sides. Then, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around me in return. He felt like nothing more than a bag of bones. I briefly considered sending him down to the buffet with Bull and Dorian, but instead said, “Go and wait with Blackwall once you’ve got our weapons. I’ll be along as soon as I can. Okay?”

            He agreed, and once we were out of the library we split up, with me heading towards the ballroom while Cole went for the stairs, since Gael was lingering near the front doors. I’d almost made it through the doors when a smoky voice called out, “Well well, what have we here?” stopping me in my tracks.

            It was a woman in a dress even fancier than my own, though hers was all purple and gold. She was deathly pale, with black hair and, I realised with a start as she came closer, golden eyes. She was stunning. Suddenly it was very hard for me to remember to keep smiling pleasantly, but I had to, for fear of coming across as some kind of leering idiot.

            “The leader of the new Inquisition,” she said, a mocking edge to her voice as she sashayed towards me. “Fabled Herald of the Faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself… after walking between worlds first, of course. What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

            Was she hitting on me? She was saying a lot of very nice things, even if she was seemingly teasing me at the same time. It didn’t matter whether she was or not, obviously, since I was already seeing Cullen, and I’d never been, nor did I ever intend on being, a cheater. But there was something about that voice coming out of a face that was giving me ‘Eva Green with hawk eyes’ vibes that was turning my brain to mush.

            Fuck, she probably expected a response. “You know how it is with events like this,” I said, as airily as possible. “Some people are here to scheme, some to make connections. Some are just here to see and be seen.”

            She arched an eyebrow. “And which might you be, pray tell?”

            “I’m mainly here for the ham, my lady.” I felt the tiniest of flutters when that prompted a smoky chuckle.

            “I am Morrigan,” she said with a bow. “Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”

            Two realisations hit me at once – one, this must be the Lady M from the note I’d found, as well as the woman Leliana had warned me about earlier. Two, I was never going to see the end of Arcane season 2. I knew I should have just binged it as soon as it came out, but no, I just had to put off watching it until I was ‘emotionally prepared’. Clown.

            We sat and had a little chat after that, Morrigan and I, and over the course of our discussion I found out she’d already killed a Venatori who’d made an attempt on Celene’s life, she also thought shit was going down in the servant’s wing, and then I crossed her off my list of potential assassins after she pointed out how stupid an apostate who relied on Celene for her own safety would have to be to kill her patron. We ended with Morrigan heading off to watch over Celene, while I went to the servant’s wing, where my chosen team were waiting.

            “Help me get out of this skirt,” I said as soon as we were through the door.

            “Thought you’d never ask!” Sera crowed.

            As I tied the detached skirt around my waist like a sash it hit me that I was the only mage present, meaning I’d be the one in charge of covering us with barriers if anything went down, a thought that gave me chills. Luckily, the only fight we got into was pretty simple, with an elf in a mask unexpectedly joining in on our side to make matters even easier.

            “Thanks for that,” I said as she retrieved the knife she’d lodged in the last guy’s face.

            “My pleasure, Inquisitor.” She was standardly built, for an elf, small and slight, and was deeply tanned, with very dark eyes that were even bigger than those of any elf I’d met thus far. She wasn’t just wearing a mask, she had a full-on bag over her hair, very fancy. “I’m sorry we did not have a chance to speak downstairs.”

            “Sadly, I’ve been spread a bit thin tonight.” I gestured to the corpses around us, then looked closer at her. “Can I assume you’re Ambassador Briala?”

            “Very perceptive.” She stepped in close to me, placing a hand under my chin to tilt my face up, giving her a better look at my eyes… and the way my cheeks reddened under my makeup, judging by her smirk. “Eyes of the Fade. Such a pretty little thing. They must be lining up to dance with you downstairs.”

            “I think the ears put most of them off.”

            She tutted. “Fools, all.” Chucking me under the chin, she strolled out onto a nearby balcony, obviously expecting me to follow. Which I did, natch. “I came here to save or avenge my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it.”

            Briala went on to tell me about how Gaspard was, allegedly, smuggling chevaliers into the palace, as well as trying to pin one of the corpses we’d passed on the way up (some sort of emissary for the Council of Heralds) on him… which, of course, immediately made me more suspicious of her than of Gaspard. She did say I seemed like an ally worth having at the end of all that, though, which was flattering. And she offered me an ‘army of elven spies’, before hurling herself off the balcony. Very cool.

            “Well,” I sighed, turning back to the others, “she’s definitely up to something.”

            “It’s Orlais,” Blackwall said gruffly. “They’re all up to something.”

            “I thought she was going to kiss you,” Sera piped up. She made some exaggerated kissing sounds, putting her clasped hands under her chin. “Ooh, pretty Fade eyes, mwah mwah!”

            “Shush now, there’s a good girl,” I said, making her snicker.

            “There are things she’s hiding. Even I can’t see them,” Cole said thoughtfully. “But there’s something else, too, an old hurt scarred anew, kisses that taste of burned bones, blood, betrayal…”

            “Shall we get back to the party?” Blackwall asked, eyeing Cole with concern.

            “Yeah,” I sighed, “probably.”

            Cole, however, set off briskly in the wrong direction, his head still raised like a hound on a scent. I went after him, the others trailing along behind me, and we watched as he broke into a lockbox. Pulling out a locket, he inspected it closely for a moment before handing it to me.

            “Her sadness is shaped like this,” he said by way of explanation. “So is the empress’.”

            “Leliana told me Briala and Celene were rumoured to have been lovers,” I said, giving the locket the once-over myself. It was elven in design, but from the look of the room we were in, Celene was the one keeping it safe. “She kept this, even after… whatever happened between the two of them.”

            “Oh yeah, a rich person hoarding jewellery,” Sera scoffed. “Very romantic.”

            “Come on.” I tucked the locket into a hidden pocket in my bodice, jerking my head at the others. “Someone’s going to have to help me get my skirt back on, too.”

*

                        As soon as I made it back to the ballroom I was accosted by Florianne, who wanted to dance with me… while also implicating her brother in the assassination plot, something which made my already raised suspicions of her shoot through the roof. Still, I kept being polite, and acted like I was considering what she had to say. I even danced fairly well, I think. I didn’t fall over, nor did I trip anyone else, that’s what mattered.

            Once I got free, I went to talk to Cullen, who was surrounded by admirers. While I couldn’t really blame them, the way he’d backed himself into a corner, putting a wall on one side and a table on the other as barriers, made something twist in my chest as I slipped through the crowd. He looked like a trapped animal, eyes wide and white, jaw clenched, though he brightened when he realised I was there.

            “How are things?” I asked, squeezing his hand as surreptitiously as I could.

            “I should be asking you that.” He squeezed back, and I could feel the way he was shaking. Only a little, nothing overly noticeable, but enough to make me feel guilty for having him there. “I hear you’ve been up to some action.”

            “It’s been an evening, yeah. And it’s not over yet.” I sighed. “Feel like giving me a dance once I’ve saved the day?”

            “No, thank you.”

            “Oh. Alright, no worries, I –”

            “No, I – Maker’s breath, I’ve been asked that question so many times I’m answering it automatically.” He huffed a little laugh. “I’m not sure I can dance, in truth. The templars never held balls.”

            I ignored the comedy value of his last statement, since he didn’t seem like he’d appreciate it under the circumstances (thank God Sera wasn’t in earshot). Instead, I said, “Would you rather hang out with Gael and company? Cole… Cole said some things earlier that made me think this might not be the best setting for you.”

            “He did, did he?” Cullen sighed. “I suppose the boy’s not entirely wrong. But if I were to go outside, I wouldn’t be here for you should anything happen.” He squeezed my hand again with a smile. “So, I shall endure.”

            “God, I wish I could kiss you right now,” I whispered, making him flush and laugh softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my awful night never ends.”

Chapter Text

I spoke to Briala first, finding her hanging out alone on a balcony off the ballroom. No prevarication, I couldn’t be arsed with conversational judo by that point, I just stepped out, pulled out the locket, and said, “Alright? This yours?”

            The smile she’d hitched on as soon as she saw me vanished. One of her hands half reached out towards me, only to drop back as she shook her head sharply. “Where did you find that?”

            “It is yours, then.” I tucked it away again. “My friend Cole found it in Celene’s personal safe. Looks like it means something to her. That’s sweet.”

            Briala’s eyes narrowed behind her mask. “You know about Celene and me?” When I nodded, she sighed. “Then surely you know what a terrible idea our… dalliance was.”

            “Oh, trust me, I know all about bad romance,” I snorted. “I’m a mage who fell for the first templar she met, alright, you’re not getting any judgement from me. Sometimes we just have to find happiness where we can.”

            “Yes,” she said distantly, “perhaps. She held onto it.”

            I sidled back into the main hall, again flashing the locket, this time to some ladies-in-waiting which, as I’d hoped, brought Celene running. Maybe I was getting good at this Game stuff.

            “Inquisitor,” she said as she surreptitiously drew me away from any eavesdroppers. “I regret that we did not have time to speak earlier. No doubt you have questions about many things.”

            “Just the one thing, actually.” I whipped the locket out again. “I found this in the palace vault while addressing a… minor pest problem. Lovely design. Briala seemed very familiar with it.”

            “Ah,” she said, sounding wistful. “Yes. I don’t know why I kept it. It was a foolish thing to do.”

            “I think there’s very few people out there who act especially rationally when it comes to love. Briala seemed quite touched to hear you still had it.”

            “You told her.” Celene’s tone was strange, somewhere between a scandalised gasp and something much sadder.

            “She seemed to care about it. And for you to have kept the locket, it seems like you might still care, too.”

            “Perhaps I do. But I cannot put her above all the people of my empire.” She shook herself, her voice hardening as she turned away. “Dispose of the locket how you like. It means nothing to me.”

            Bet.

*

                        Varric asked me afterwards about my thought process that night, I think mostly as part of taking notes for the book he planned on writing about the Inquisition. Why was I so set on getting Briala and Celene back together, he asked, and why was I so happy to throw Gaspard under the bus in the process?

            I’d have liked to say I had some grand 4D-chess plan going on, but I think the truth was I just couldn’t bear to see two sapphics pining for each other, not when I could have done something about it. As for Gaspard… I kept seeing that smug grin of his when my arrival caused horror in the nobility, his mocking laughter. He’d invited me there to cause a scandal, never mind my own humiliation. Fuck that guy.

            I grabbed Dorian and Bull before heading behind the scenes that time – I had a feeling we were walking into worse than before, and it was late enough in the evening that I didn’t need them drawing focus anymore. Unfortunately, extracting either Vivienne or Cassandra from their gathered admirers would have been damn near impossible (despite how much Cassandra clearly wanted to be extracted, I swear she was staring into my soul as I snuck out of the ballroom), while Solas and Varric were both absolutely drunk off their arses and so wouldn’t have been any use anyway. So, off we went.

            Following a load of shouting, we found ourselves in a courtyard that contained a rift, a whole bunch of archers, and a spectacularly pissed off Fereldan guy. Oh, and also Florianne. Because of course she was the traitor.

            “Inquisitor!” she said, waving her arms around in full Orlesian melodrama mode. “What a pleasure! I wasn’t certain you’d attend. You’re such a challenge to read, I had no idea if you’d taken my bait.”

            “Yeah, no, I said it was you all along,” I said, with all the derision I could muster. “Literally all along. For someone born to the Game, you’re surprisingly bad at it.”

            Oh, that got to her. She jerked back, mouth dropping open, clearly aghast. I couldn’t help laughing. That might have been the best part of my night, honestly. She made a clear attempt to get back on track with, “It was… kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired –”

            “We didn’t walk into a trap, though. We came here looking for a fight, and we’ve walked into a fight. That’s why my legs are out. That’s not a trap, it’s things going according to plan.”

            “Corypheus… Corypheus insisted the empress –”

            “Don’t care, didn’t ask.”

            “Celene –”

            “Did you write a speech for this or what?”

            God, it was fun. What was visible of her face had gone brick red, she was beyond furious. I stood there, grinning like a pumpkin, waiting for her to say something else so I could mess with her more, using all my Game training for malice. Fuck the fight, I hoped this was what we’d be doing for the rest of the night.

            Sadly, she just snapped, “Kill her and bring me the Marked hand as proof,” before marching off.

            “Shit, she’s going for Celene, I was too mean.”

            We didn’t have too much of an issue taking out Florianne’s people, or the rift. I got shot at as their opening gambit, but I’d recently learned this Misty Step-esque short-range teleport Solas called Fade stepping, so I just blipped aside and started frying people. Eventually, the job was done.

            It turned out the angry Fereldan was one of those mercenaries Briala had told me Gaspard was sneaking into the palace, and he confirmed the reason they were there was to stage a coup. Fucking Gaspard, my first fancy night out and not only did he use me as a laughingstock, he was also going to stage a coup and ruin it? Dick. Still, the Fereldan quickly agreed to fold his mercenary company into the Inquisition, so, more soldiers for us.

            After that, we took off back to the ballroom. Celene was still alive when we got there, though Florianne was closer to her than I was comfortable with. Luckily, I caused quite a stir when I burst in, armed and with my skirt still detached, and she turned to look… then froze in shock and horror.

            Florianne was standing on the little terrace at the end of the dance floor, right below Celene’s appearance spot. When I walked up, she was talking to Gaspard and Briala, very clearly trying to act like everything was normal, though her shoulders hunched up around her ears when she heard my voice.

            “I’m sorry your surprise didn’t work out as planned, your Grace,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s a shame, I’m sure you worked very hard on it.”

            Gaspard looked curiously between me and his sister. “What is she talking about, Florianne?”

            “I’m talking about the Grand Duchess tempting me out into the closed wing in the hope that she could have her soldiers kill me and my team,” I said brightly, all through the same smile I’d been wearing all evening. “She wanted to have a clear run at the empress, you see, to assassinate her Radiance on behalf of Corypheus. All while framing you for the deed, Gaspard.” I tutted. “Quite derailed my evening.”

            “Wh – sh—” Florianne looked up at Celene. “Cousin, surely you cannot believe this nonsense?”

            Celene’s eyes met mine, then slid sideways to look at Briala. I was briefly worried this meant she was remembering the locket, seeing it as an attempt at blackmail. Then I realised Briala had a stiletto knife in her hand, seemingly ready for use on Florianne. Celene nodded slowly and said, “Guards, please seize the Grand Duchess.”

            “No!” Florianne cried weakly, reaching out towards her brother. “Gaspard, you cannot let them do this! Gaspard?”

            He shook his head and trudged off after Celene, who’d headed out onto a balcony. Briala followed, pausing just long enough to lay a hand on my arm and tilt her head, inviting me along. I nodded, though hung back to watch as a weeping Florianne’s hands were bound behind her back.

            “Thank you for the dance, your Grace,” I said with a genuine grin, then off I went to join the peace talks.

*

                        Gaspard was kicking off when I joined them out there, but he shut up quickly enough when I dropped the proof of his attempted coup into the mix. He was dragged off right along with his sister, leaving it just us girls. Celene thanked me for all I’d done, and without really knowing why, I said, “Thank Briala, too. She was a big help tonight, couldn’t have managed without her, really.”

            Celene looked at her ex with some surprise (Briala covered up her own surprise much faster) and said, “Truly? You still care for me so deeply?”

            Briala sighed. “And you kept the locket.”

            When Celene delivered her big speech to the crowd a few minutes later, it was after making Briala Marquess of the Dales, and she also declared her intention to officially ally with the Inquisition. So, you know, maybe the night wasn’t entirely bad.

*

                        After all the posh nobs were done telling me how amazing I was (as if they hadn’t been calling me slurs a few hours earlier), I went out onto the big balcony Celene had been hanging out on all night. I could see why she’d stayed out there – it was quiet, peaceful even, with a stunning view out over the city of Halamshiral. I was leaning on the railing admiring that view when Morrigan spoke up behind me.

            “What’s this? All of Orlais raises toasts in your honour, and yet you are not there to bear witness?”

            I turned to her with a smile – a real one, not the Game one. “All those glasses clinking made me feel like I was getting tinnitus.”

            She chuckled, joining me at the railing. “Then hopefully this sounds sweeter to you – I am to be seconded to the Inquisition, in order to advise you on all matters arcane.”

            “Oh! Okay, cool. I never really got the vibe that you wanted to join the Inquisition, honestly.”

            “It was Celene, in fact, who volunteered my services. My wanting was not a factor. Either way, I pledge my full assistance to you, and your organisation.”

            “Oh. Then I’m sorry it wasn’t by choice, but we’ll be glad to have you on board all the same.”

            “A most gracious response,” she said warmly, bowing. “I will make my preparations and shall see you at Skyhold.”

            She’d hardly left before Cullen took her place, shoulder-to-shoulder with me. We stood there in silence for a while, staring out at all those little lights spread below us. Cullen’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer, tight against his side.

            “It probably sounds silly,” he said quietly, “but I was worried for you tonight.”

            I leaned into him, closing my eyes. “Not silly. I wasn’t sure what was going to kill me first, the literal demons or the fucking Orlesians.”

            “Orlesians,” Cullen growled. He kissed the side of my head, then my cheek. Then, with a glance at the door to the ballroom, which he’d closed behind him, he pulled me into a corner. We were out of sight of all the windows over there, and even if someone stepped out onto the balcony, we’d be hidden from view by a large potted plant.

            “What –”

            He cut me off with a kiss, walking me back until I was sat on the railing, running my hands over his appreciably firm shoulders and up into his fluffy hair. Cullen let out a low groan and impatiently yanked off his gloves, dropping them to the marble (Josephine would have slapped him). For a while we just kissed, one of Cullen’s hands rubbing my hip, the other sliding up to my breast.

            I let out a contented little hum and gripped his waist with my knees, pressing myself closer to him. Cullen made another soft sound and brought his hand back down, first rubbing at me through my leggings and then, when that drew a gasp from me, chuckling against my mouth as he reached for my waistband. His fingers were hot against my stomach as they dipped lower, and for a second I moaned and arched against him, fingers tightening in his hair…

            Then I felt a burst of something like panic, a sort of strangling claustrophobia. I broke the kiss, grabbing his wrist before his hand could descend any further as I gasped out, “Stop, stop, stop.”

            “I’m sorry,” Cullen said breathlessly. He retracted his hand immediately, taking a step back to put space between us, looking at me with confusion. “Sorry, I… I thought you… Was I moving too fast?”

            “No, no, it’s not… God, it’s so stupid. I’m stupid. Just… just give me a minute. Maybe we can try again, just… I need a minute.”

            “What’s the matter? Emma.” He rested his hand on my face, thumb gently stroking my cheek. “You can talk to me, it’s alright. Did I… misread the situation?”

            “No.” I let out a long, long sigh. “I just… For the most part, I’m fine that this is, you know, me now. My body, my self, whatever. But… It’s like, I don’t know if Ellana’s ever had sex before, you know? I don’t know if what I liked back home is going to be something I like now. This isn’t my body, and it might like different things than I did, and it… it’s just weird, you know? Like, I'm fine to eat and drink and fight and sleep like this, but letting someone... Sorry, I know it’s stupid.”

            Cullen kissed me. “It’s not stupid,” he said firmly. “Your feelings are your own, Emma, you shouldn’t feel like you have to justify yourself. I cannot imagine how difficult this all must be for you, but I will help however I can. If that means taking things slowly between us, then we take things slowly. I’m certainly in no rush. What matters is that we care about each other. Everything else, we can take as it comes.”

            Grinning, I pulled him in to kiss him again, still feeling that combination of wanting him so badly it made me dizzy, while still being so claustrophobic it made my stomach twist. “Thank you. Probably a stupid question, but have you ever…?”

            “Ah,” he sighed. “Well, I did once have a… youthful infatuation with someone, though nothing ever happened. It would have been untoward. In Kirkwall, I had the occasional dalliance, though there was never much by way of emotion involved. It was nothing more than seeking comfort in each other.”

            “Friends with benefits, I get that,” I said. “This girl back home broke my heart, first proper relationship I ever had. All I was good for after, for a good long while, was friends with benefits. I still only had two, though, like, I wasn’t working my way through a rugby team or whatever. Honestly, I’ve always been a bit squirrelly about the actual having of the sex, at least to start with. I’m not surprised the body-swap stuff is hitting me like this. Also, I’ve recovered from the emotional devastation now, I promise.”

            “That’s good to hear,” he said, laughing softly. “Friends with benefits, you said? I wasn’t aware there was a term for that specifically.”

            “Oh, back home we’ve got terms for everything.”

            “Truly a world apart.” He stepped back, bowed low, and held out a hand. “Well, as things have calmed down a little, I think now’s the right time to ask – may I have this dance, my lady?”

            I giggled. “Of course, Commander. I thought you couldn’t dance?”

            “For you, I’m willing to try.”

            Slipping into his arms, I rested my head against his shoulder and let him lead me in a slow, twisting dance around the balcony. He was solid, and warm, and he only stepped on my feet twice.

Chapter Text

We made it back to Skyhold before Hawke and Alistair, who were apparently still out searching the Western Approach for any sign of the Wardens, the poor bastards, and other than asking Leliana to send some extra scouts their way to hopefully help, I found myself at a bit of a loose end. I mostly occupied myself by hanging out with the gang, bitching about rich people.

            The only people who seemed to have had a good time at the Winter Palace were Vivienne (naturally), Varric (he signed so many autographs he had cramp for three days afterwards), and Solas, for some reason. He mentioned ‘missing courtly intrigue’ when I talked to him about it, but right before I asked when he’d had a chance to see courtly intrigue before I noticed him wince slightly. He hadn’t meant to say it. I didn’t know what that was all about, but decided not to push it, and he sighed with obvious relief.

            A few days after our return I was walking through the garden when a little voice said, “You’re the Inquisitor!”

            I turned to see a child, a boy of about ten, pale, with dark hair and eyes. There were plenty of kids in the little village that had sprung up in the valley below Skyhold, refugees, the faithful, and people who just wanted to help out who wouldn’t fit into the fortress itself, forming a surprisingly thriving community. But this was the first kid I’d seen up in Skyhold itself.

            “Uh. Hi, unattended child.”

            The boy cocked his head. “Mother never told me the Inquisitor was an elf.”

            “What gave me away, was it the ears?”

            “No, your blood is very old, I saw it right away.”

            What the fuck, kid? Plastering my Game smile on my face, I just about managed to say, “Oh?”

            He nodded. “Yes. But your soul is –”

            “Are you bothering the Inquisitor, Kieran?” Morrigan, who was now wearing something that looked like a badass clubbing outfit, strolled over to put her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

            “Of course not, did you see what’s on her hand, Mother?”

            “I did see. ‘Tis time to return to your studies, little man.” Kieran sighed, but headed off without any argument. Morrigan watched him go with the most adorable little laugh. “My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally.”

            “He seems sweet,” I said, because while he might have been talking ominously about my blood, he was at least polite when he did it. Besides, I’d heard weirder shit from Cole, I wasn’t going to hold it against him. “Very well-mannered. But won’t he be lonely? We don’t have many children up here.”

            “Ah. Sadly, Kieran has grown used to doing without playmates, Inquisitor. I… travelled alone with him for a time, and there were few children of his own age at court. But he has his studies, and me, and that seems to have sustained him thus far. Your fortress is a large place – I trust you will scarce notice his presence.”

            “Oh, no, absolutely, he’s very welcome to stay. He’ll be less trouble than Sera, anyway.”

            Morrigan inclined her head. “You were kind to welcome my aid, Inquisitor, even knowing as little of me as you do, and kinder still to accept Kieran with no more objection than concern for his own welfare. I will do my best to aid you with all the knowledge at my disposal, this I swear to you.”

            “Thanks, much appreciated.” I appreciated it less when she immediately afterwards told me she suspected Corypheus could actually go through with his plan of becoming a god, mind you. I just kind of went along with it, let her correct me on Skyhold’s name (apparently the direct translation was closer to something like ‘The Place Where The Sky Was Held Back’, so I could see why Solas went with something punchier, we certainly weren't changing it from Skyhold any time soon), then I scurried off to the Herald’s Rest, which was full as ever. “Do you guys ever leave the pub?”

            “Oi, I live here,” Sera said.

            “So does this little guy.” Bull patted Cole on the back. “And me, technically.”

            “Oh yeah, what’s everyone else’s excuse?” I scoffed.

            “It’s cold in the stables.”

            “I simply couldn't stand the glare from Solas’ head a moment longer.”

            “This is where the booze lives.” Varric punctuated his statement by downing what was left of his pint.

            “We’re all going to need new livers by the end of this,” I said. “Oh, hey, did you know there’s a kid loose in Skyhold now? Morrigan’s son. He’s cute. Bit weird.”

            “There’s something else,” Cole said distantly, head cocked, eyes staring into nothing. “Something older. Dark dreams and dusty, dead whispers. Always by himself, but never alone.”

            “Perhaps we could make an introduction between the young fellows,” Dorian said after our traditional bewildered pause.

            “I’ll have a word with Morrigan,” I said.

*

                        A few days later I arrived in the garden in my usual fashion (launching myself down the stairwell from the battlements and landing on the flagstones at terminal velocity; nobody even looked around at the splat anymore), and as I picked myself up I heard Alistair’s voice, which surprised me, since I hadn’t known he was back. Before I could call out to him, I registered what he was saying, and paused, still hidden by a column.

            “That’s him then? I thought he’d look… I don’t know, more demonic. Tentacles and fiery breath.”

            “He is a normal boy, Alistair.”

            I peeked around the column. Morrigan and Alistair were stood together nearby, watching Cole and Kieran, who were sat cross-legged in the grass having their own quiet conversation about, best I could tell, beetles. They were handing a shiny black beetle back and forth as they spoke, at least.

            “Uh huh,” Alistair said. “And what does he know of… how he was made?”

            “He knows his father was a good man. I… I thought you deserved that much.”

            Holy shit. I’d already heard all about how Alistair had some grand sweeping romance-for-the-ages with his fellow Grey Warden and Fifth Blight veteran, an elven Circle mage called Neria Surana. Alistair himself had already talked a lot about how in love they were, even showing me the little mini portrait he carried of her, since she was off investigating Warden shit in the Hossberg Mountains. Now I was finding out he had a secret kid with Morrigan? Kieran was Alistair’s son? It felt like I was watching a soap opera.

            Alistair chuckled softly and said, “He’s changed you.”

            “Don’t be absurd,” Morrigan responded acerbically.

            Before I had a chance to ferret out any more gossip, Mother Giselle noticed me and called out a greeting. As Alistair and Morrigan turned to look I stepped out from behind the column, brushing myself off as if I’d just landed, and I did my best to look genuinely surprised to find them there.

            “Alistair!” I said brightly. “I didn’t know you were back. I see you’ve met our new occult advisor.”

            “Oh, Morrigan and I are old friends,” he said, prompting Morrigan to give a disdainful snort and say, “Friends is perhaps not the correct word.”

            “Alright, well, that clears things up.”

            “I was looking for you, in fact, Emma,” Alistair said. “Hawke is in the war room speaking with your advisors. They sent me out to find you. So really, it’s their fault they’ve been waiting so long. Leliana, at least, should have known better.”

            “On your way.” Morrigan waved a dismissive hand.

            Alistair hesitated, looking over at the two boys in the grass, laughing at their beetle. “Take care of yourselves, won’t you?”

            “We have managed thus far,” she said archly, relenting slightly to add, “But… thank you. Be well, Alistair.”

            He and I headed off towards the war room together. I wanted to say something about how I’d personally make sure Kieran was safe and taken care of, but I didn’t trust myself not to do it in a way that revealed I’d been eavesdropping. Instead, I gave up and asked, “Good news or bad news?”

            “A bit of both. Good news, we tracked the Wardens down – thank you for the additional scouts, by the way.”

            “I live to serve. The bad news?”

            He refused to tell me until we were all together, at which point he and Hawke dropped the very fun bomb on us that the Wardens had taken up residence in a fortress out in the Approach. Oh, and the last Wardens were already trickling in, so we had barely any time to act.

            Still, we were quickly able to come up with an assault plan that didn’t sound too stupid – Cullen saying “Adamant was built before modern siege equipment” did strike me as pretty funny, coming from a world of drone strikes and MOABs as I did. The idea of catapults being cutting edge tech was so amusing, in fact, that it took me a minute to really process the situation.

            “We, uh,” I said once I did. They all looked at me, and I had to choke down some stage fright before I could go on. I was the Inquisitor. Inquisitor wasn’t allowed to get stage fright. “This is going to end with a lot of our people dying, isn’t it?”

            “They know what they signed up for, Emma,” Cullen said gently. “And their deaths will prevent many more, if Corypheus brings his demon army to bear.”

            “I know,” I sighed. “I know all that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Make your preparations, everyone. Time to march on Adamant.”

*

                        When I came down to the stables ready to march out a few days later, Master Dennet called me over with his usual terse wave. I expected him to just want to have a go at me over not being good enough to ride his horses or something, and I suppose it was at least tangentially related to that, in that he wasn’t saddling a horse for me. What he was saddling instead was a big fuck-off deer-looking thing.

            “Some Dalish clan wanted you to have this,” he said once I was within earshot. “Not a halla, sadly, but still a majestic beast. Royal elk.”

            “Uh. Okay. Do you… Does it like being ridden? Like, is it the same principle as riding a horse?”

            Dennet was giving me the look of ‘my employer is a halfwit’, but he sounded polite enough as he said, “He’s been broken in, yes.”

            In fairness, the elk seemed pretty chill. He let me pet his face without incident, and even stood there placidly while I heaved myself up into the saddle – big guy was taller than a horse, so I had to really throw myself into it to get up there, and then once I was seated I realised his antlers actually impeded my visibility a bit. But he was a very well-behaved giant deer, and nobody could deny that he made me look regal as fuck.

            “Check you out, fancy,” Sera said, drifting over, barely in control of her own little brown pony.

            “Thanks,” I said with a grin, patting the elk’s neck. “He’s my new best friend. I’m calling him Cary Elkwes.”

Chapter Text

Thank fuck we ended up storming Adamant at night, so at least it was marginally cooler. Cullen made me hang back until the gates of the fortress had been siege-weaponed open, at which point he headed off to help with the team storming the walls, while I led my gang through the fortress in search of Clarel.

            “Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” I told Cullen as he made to walk away.

            “We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor.”

            I grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

            Smiling, he took the time to kiss me, then gently propelled me after the team, who were already fighting summoned demons. “I could say the same to you.”

            I honestly didn’t know what would have been worse – fighting alongside him, with the potential of having to watch him die at any moment, or knowing he was out there somewhere and only being able to hope he’d make it through alright. Nothing I could do about it, either way. All I could do was stick with my team (now including Hawke and Alistair) and try not to get myself killed.

            It was a slog. Seemingly endless waves of demons and mind-controlled mages. The mages were the worst. I knew for them to be directing demons they must have killed one of their fellow Wardens, and I knew there was no getting through to them. But there was still a person in there, a person who'd made a stupid decision out of desperation because they thought they were doing the right thing, and killing them felt… unsavoury.

            So, when we came across a group of warriors and rogues who were desperately fighting mages themselves, I was more than happy to give the order, “Mages and demons only!”

            “What… what do you intend to do with us?” one warrior yelled once we’d taken the others down, levelling his sword at us.

            “Surrender,” I said. “Surrender to us, to Inquisition forces, and no harm will come to you. Not by our hands, in any case.”

            “Really?” The point of the sword wavered. “You won’t just slaughter us once we’re unarmed?”

            “I didn’t want to kill anyone, but your mages left me no choice,” I said impatiently. “If you’re willing to put down your weapons, I’ll be more than happy to leave you alive. Either way, make your choice, because I’ve got to get to Clarel before she does anything stupider than she already has.”

            The warrior who’d been speaking finally lowered his sword, the others following his lead. “Thank you, my lady. Maker guide you.”

            “Yeah, great.”

            We eventually found Clarel in a big central courtyard, actively in the process of cutting an elder Warden’s throat as we arrived. Luckily, we got there before she completed Erimond’s ritual, because there was a huge rift in the centre of the courtyard, and as it twisted and flickered, I caught glimpses of the thing waiting on the other side. It looked very much like something I didn’t want to meet.

            “Clarel!” I’ve got a loud-ass voice when I want to (“you’re either whispering or bellowing,” Cathy always said), and right then it cut through the chaos to stop the Warden-Commander in her tracks. As all the gathered Wardens turned to me, I added, “Don’t do this! You have to know what you’re doing is wrong!”

            “What we’re doing?” Erimond sneered. “Saving the –”

            “Shut the fuck up, Erimond, I’m not talking to you!” As he recoiled in melodramatic horror, I pressed on. “This little prick has been lying to you the whole time so he can sell the Wardens to Corypheus, use you as his own personal army to end the world.”

            “Corypheus?” Clarel was barely audible over the distance, but her genuine surprise was clear. “But he’s dead.”

            “He wasn’t dead when he blew up the Conclave,” I said. “He wasn’t dead when he attacked Haven. And he wasn’t dead when he sent this horrible little rat bastard down here to scare you all into selling your souls to him!”

            “Listen to her!” Alistair said, stepping up beside me. “If this idea had any merit I would be involved too, but it’s all lies, Clarel!”

            “She spared us,” a voice called from behind us, which was how I realised some of the Wardens who’d surrendered had followed us. “Saved us from the mages who did the ritual, then spared us herself.”

            “I didn’t come here to kill Wardens.” I barely managed to avoid saying ‘I didn’t come here to fuck spiders’, like, barely. But I did. “Anyone I’ve hurt, I’ve done because I had to. But you’re making a mistake here. A mistake that’s going to end the world. Please, don't do this.”

            Clarel hesitated, turning to say something to Erimond that wasn’t audible over the distance. They had a brief back and forth before Erimond tossed his head and stepped back, tapping his staff on the ground.

            “My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor!” he called. “He sent me this to welcome you!”

            With a squealing roar, Corypheus’ dragon dropped from the sky, laying down a line of crackling lyrium-fire across the courtyard. It landed on a tower, with that prick Erimond waving it in like he was directing a plane into a terminal.

            “Oh, shit,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

            “Took the words right out of my mouth,” Varric said weakly.

            There was a flash of light over by Erimond and Clarel, which turned out to be Clarel smacking that prick with a bolt of lightning (he took it astonishingly well for a pathetic wet cat of a man). She followed this up by firing more lightning at the dragon itself, which it didn’t seem to appreciate. Erimond dragged himself up and took off running, and with a yell of, “Help the Inquisitor!” Clarel went after him.

            “You must go too.” Cassandra grabbed my shoulder, pulling me closer so I could hear her over the noise as the Warden warriors and Inquisition team started fighting the mix of mages and demons. “That dragon is the true threat now, and Erimond controls it.”

            “The rift –”

            “Go! We will manage the demons!”

            “Fine, you’re in charge until I get back.” I patted her on the shoulder, waving to the others. “Solas, Cole, Bull, with me. Everyone else, hold the line here.”

            “We going after the dragon, Boss?” Bull asked as we charged off.

            “The prick controlling it. Have you seen that thing, Bull? Its skin is all crystally. We’re not fighting that bastard unless we have no other options. We’re going to give the prick controlling it a kicking instead.”

            “Works for me!” Hawke said, which was how I realised she and Alistair had tagged along. I wasn’t arguing. Admittedly, that was mostly because I didn’t have the spare breath to do so.

            We tracked them down to the very top of Adamant, where Clarel was frying Erimond up like a rotisserie chicken. “Hey, Clarel!” I called. She turned sharply, and I couldn’t help but flinch back, staff raised.

            “Inquisitor.” Clarel lowered her own staff as she started towards me, making me relax a little. “We need –”

            The dragon came down behind her, jaws snapping closed around her middle. It shook her like a terrier with a rat, tossing her limp body against the stones before turning its attention back to us.

            “Jesus fucking Christ!” I pulled myself together enough to add, “Retreat, back down the stairs, go!”

            But it bounded over us, landing in front of the gateway back downstairs, cutting off our retreat. Bull looked over at me. “Are we fighting it now, Boss?”

            “Looks like. Alright, same as –”

            As the dragon prowled over Clarel’s body she rolled over, which came as something of a shock since I was certain she was already dead. She blasted the dragon with a bolt of magic so powerful it sent the thing tumbling limp past us. As it crashed to the floor, it caused a whole chain reaction that led to the stone platform we were on crumbling out from under us, sending the whole team plummeting into the Abyssal Rift, an unfathomably deep crack in the world.

            I could always have gone bird and flown to safety, though of course that would have meant leaving the team to die. Or I could have stayed in elf form and plummeted to my death beside them. Both stellar options.

            Instead, feeling the way the Veil was barely holding itself together with all the demon-summoning that had happened over the last few hours, I reached out the way I always did to close rifts. This time, I opened a rift, right below us. We fell through, into the Fade. Things only got worse from there.

Chapter Text

I slammed into the ground all the same, just at a considerably slower speed than I would have otherwise, barely fast enough to knock the wind out of me. Sitting up, I realised everyone had made it, though Hawke and Alistair were both stood on walls rather than the ground. Alrighty.

            “If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology,” Hawke said, looking around. “This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom.”

            “No,” Solas said wonderingly, “this is the Fade. I never thought to walk here physically.”

            “No,” Cole said. I thought he was disagreeing with Solas at first, until I realised he was pacing, in tears, and shaking his head violently. “No no no no no, I can’t be here, not like this, this is all wrong, I made myself forget when I became real, but I know it wasn’t like this!”

            “Hey, come here.” I intercepted Cole as he stumbled past me, placing my hands on his cheeks so he’d look me in the eyes. “Listen to me, Baby Bird. You’re going to be alright. I swear, I’m going to get you out of here, even if you have to step over my dead body to do it, okay? Whatever’s in here is only going to hurt you over my fucking corpse, but I need you to calm down enough to work with me, can you do that?”

            He blinked rapidly, one hand coming up to lay his fingers over mine. “I can try. Thank you.”

            As I patted his cheek and stepped away, Bull piped up with, “You going to make the same promise to me, Boss? Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ll follow you anywhere, but I’m not down with getting dragged through the ass-end of demon town.”

            “Of course it goes for you. I’d die for any one of you, you know that.” When they continued giving me those kicked-dog looks, I was a little sharper as I said, “If I didn’t bring us here, I’d be flying back to Cassandra right now to tell her you guys all ended up decorating the Deep Roads, like that fucker Erimond. I let myself get dropped into the Fade specifically to keep you alive.”

            Bull sighed. “I get it, Boss. I might not like it… but I appreciate it all the same. Thanks.”

            “Look!” Solas apparently hadn’t noticed any of our little sidebar. “The Black City! Almost close enough to touch!”

            “At least someone’s having fun,” I muttered. “Alright, let’s see if this works.” I reached out my left hand and tried to open a rift again, just like I had to get us there. While the world rippled slightly, nothing more happened. “Fuck. Fine, so, we need a new plan.”

            “There was that huge rift in the courtyard,” Hawke pointed out, clambering down to ground level. “You didn’t close it yet, did you?”

            “No, it’ll still be there,” I said. “And it should be nearby, too, right Solas? I know the Fade messes with stuff, but –”

            “You’re correct, da’len.” He finally tore his gaze away from the Black City. “We should be able to find our way back, though likely not without some resistance.”

            “Then let’s get rambling.”

            I put an arm around Cole as we walked, rubbing gentle circles into his back in what I hoped was a soothing manner. Alistair fell in beside me, looking around like we were on a walking tour.

            “Was it like this the last time you were here?” he asked.

            “I don’t think I ever was here,” I said. “I don’t remember any of it, at least. As far as I’m aware, I just slipped in on the way back out of the Fade, and Solas says Ellana probably died as soon as she got hit with the Anchor, so I suppose my body was just like, empty in here. Probably just flopped out because of movements in the Fade or something.”

            “Huh. Well, might not be useful, but that’s interesting, at least.”

            I laughed. “So long as I’m something.”

            We had a few scraps with angry demons, which everyone dealt with well, until suddenly there was a woman standing in front of us. An elderly, seemingly human woman wearing the most magnificent hat I’d yet seen, who Hawke identified as being Divine Justinia herself.

            “You’re still alive?” I blurted out.

            “Obviously it’s a demon,” Alistair said.

            “Oh, right. A demon that looks like the Divine, okay.”

            “You think my survival impossible,” Ghost Pope said, “and yet here you stand in the Fade yourself.”

            “Aye, we haven’t been in here for months, is the difference,” I said.

            “Surely it can’t be that hard to tell us what you are?” Hawke added. “For example, I’m a human, and you are?”

            “Here to help. Your enemy is a demon. The nightmare you forget upon waking. It has stolen your memories, and only on recovering them will you be able to proceed.”

            Great. Awesome. Thanks bunches, Ghost Pope.

            It turned out we had to fight a load of demons to free up those memories. Demons that looked like giant spiders, because apparently my day hadn’t been awful enough. Still, we got it done, with a minimum of freaking out on my part, leaving nothing more than glowing balls of light that I had to activate with the Anchor, beaming those stolen memories into all our heads.

            First came Ellana Lavellan’s final memories. She charged into a room to find Corypheus and a bunch of Grey Wardens using the elven orb on the Divine. The Divine took advantage of Corypheus being distracted by Ellana’s dramatic entry to bat the orb from his hand, Ellana grabbed the orb as it rolled to her feet, and as she screamed in agony, the world exploded.

            The next lot of memories turned out to be mine – waking up in the Fade, the Divine finding me, trying to escape together through a rift, only for her to be dragged away by demons as I fell into the real world. Well, the Thedosian real world, at least.

            I’d been so scared, so confused. I could feel it in the memory, as clear as if I was back there. I’d thought it was all a dream, even though everything felt too real, and if it wasn’t for Justinia I might have just frozen there and let the demons tear me apart. As it was, she got me moving, got me to the rift… and then right before we made it through, they grabbed her. I caught her hand, tried to pull her through after me. But she let go. Told me to run, and let me go, and I toppled backwards through the rift.

            “She died to save me,” I said quietly. “I might have been able to pull her after me, but I was equally as likely to have been dragged down with her. So she let herself be taken, to save me. And this,” I waved the Anchor around. “You were right, weren’t you, Solas? Ellana was dead as soon as she touched the orb. This fucking thing burned the soul out of her. And then the explosion sucked me into her husk. This sucks. God, this sucks. Oh, and of course the Anchor doesn’t come from anything divine. It’s just fucked-up magic. I’m sure the Chantry will be thrilled.”

            “Not to mention this means the Divine has been dead all along,” Hawke said. “Meaning we’ve definitely been led here by a demon.”

            “I’m sorry to have let you down,” Ghost Pope said, sounding so absolutely genuine it seemed to make Hawke feel bad for doubting her. “You must still face the Nightmare in order to leave this place. However, you will now be doing it whole, and I will do that I can to assist you.” With that, she turned into a figure made of blinding golden light and rose up over our heads.

            “You’re a spirit, right?” I asked, admittedly a little awestruck. “One that attached itself to the Divine, like a spirit of Faith or something?”

            “If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one,” the spirit said, before drifting off ahead, clearly expecting us to follow.

            Before we did, Alistair looked over at Hawke, who was scowling. “Everything alright?”

            “I wondered if you had anything to say about what we just saw,” Hawke said, her voice tight. “About how Grey Wardens restrained the Divine for Corypheus to attack her, I mean.”

            “Really?” Alistair said. “It wasn’t their fault, you know this by now, they were brainwashed, or –”     

            “You’re really going to make excuses for them?” Hawk asked disbelievingly. “Even if Corypheus was somehow affecting their minds, is that meant to make anyone feel safer around the Grey Wardens?”

            “Hey, folks,” I said, waving a hand between them. “Do we really think this is the time and place for this? Maybe we can wait to rip into each other until after we make it out of the bloody Fade, what do you say?”

            “You’re right,” Hawke sighed. With a pointed look at Alistair, she added, “We will discuss this later.”

            “At whatever length you like,” Alistair said.

            Things didn’t really get any better from there. More fucking spiders. Dozens of them. The big Nightmare demon started talking in our heads, saying mean, catty shit that honestly wouldn’t have been out of place at the Winter Palace – teasing Bull with the threat of possession, saying it and Cole were basically the same, going after Hawke’s family and Anders, calling Alistair pathetic (“I’ve heard worse than that from Morrigan,” was his only response). It said something in elven to Solas, something he refused to translate but which clearly left him shaken.

            As for me – “Are we really so different, child? Perhaps if you allow me to occupy your stolen body, it will return you to your own. I am sure your family miss you a great deal.”

            I had to force myself to keep walking, fighting to keep my expression neutral. That sick, strangling claustrophobia was back, the sense of being smothered under my own flesh and bone, of being trapped in a world away from anyone I’d ever cared about. Just one simple statement, and my hands were trembling, my eyes watering, I couldn’t –

            Cole slipped his hand into mine. He didn’t say anything, just laced his fingers through mine so we could trudge along, holding hands like kids lost in the woods. On my other side, Solas rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. Suddenly, I didn’t want to sit down and cry anymore. I wanted to rip that demon a new arsehole instead.

*

                        The Nightmare demon was worse than expected, some building-sized chittering spider-thing with eyes and jaws and trypophobia, oh my. Luckily, Fake Ghost Pope flew straight into its face to distract it, so we were just left with some tentacle-faced bastard who went out like a punk, the worst thing about it was that it kept summoning MORE. GIANT. SPIDERS. We killed it, and beyond was the big rift, glimpses of Adamant’s courtyard beyond. We were nearly out. We were so close to getting out.

            Then the big one came back, putting itself between us and the rift. My heart sank. We were exhausted, running on empty, and that thing… I don’t think we could have taken it, even if we were fresh. It was the size of a fucking building, man. All the same, I hefted Tyrdda’s staff, ready to go down fighting.

            “Go for the rift!” Hawke yelled. “I’ll distract it!”

            “No, I –” Alistair only got that much out before Hawke impatiently waved him into silence.

            “Go! I’ll see you over there.” Before I could follow the boys, she grabbed my arm. “Say goodbye to Varric for me. Take care of him.”

            “Hawke –”

            “Go! Don’t waste time!”

            She shoved me, and I went. I couldn’t bear to look back, as Hawke set off a wave of magic that caught the thing’s attention, allowing the rest of us to skirt around it, slipping through the rift one after the other. I paused on the threshold, looking back.

            “Hawke! Hawke! We’re through! Come on!”

            There was no sign she’d even heard me, just more magic, slowly heading back the way we’d come, the giant demon lumbering after her… but there were more demons, more chittering spider-things, surging towards the rift. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, more than enough to swamp the exhausted forces in the courtyard. With a sickening sense of déjà vu, I turned and stepped through the big rift, slamming it closed behind me, the effort leaving me panting and shaking.

            Solas was waiting for me, face drawn, and he squeezed my shoulder as I staggered into view. Cassandra also shouldered her way through a line of Wardens to check me over, sighing in relief when she saw I was in one piece.

            Then Varric pushed through to us, grinning. “That was a neat trick. Think we could start using rifts as shortcuts in…” The grin slowly faded as he looked at each of us, counting the people there and coming up one short. “Where’s Hawke?”

            “Varric…”

            “Where’s Hawke?” he repeated in a hard, sharp tone I’d never have expected from him.

            “She…” I swallowed hard, cold through, as I realised everyone in the courtyard was listening in by then, the fighting already finished. I couldn’t just be Varric’s friend Emma right then. They wanted me to be the Inquisitor, too. The suckage never ended. “She stayed behind to cover our escape. There were so many demons, I couldn't... I’m so sorry, Varric.” Taking a deep breath, I raised my voice to add, “Hawke was willing to sacrifice herself because she believed in something greater, a cause. That’s what all of you were meant to believe in, too. Instead, you let yourselves be manipulated into killing each other. You caused all of this, all this death, because you were so willing to believe you knew better than everyone else.”

            “My lady,” an Inquisition soldier called, “the Grey Warden warriors fought alongside us willingly after Clarel disappeared.”

            I glanced at Cassandra, who nodded her confirmation. In my peripheral I saw Varric put his head down and trudge wordlessly away, making my chest ache, though at least Sera and Blackwall intercepted him. Hopefully that would be enough.

            “Then I appreciate them finally coming to their senses,” I said.

            “Ser Alistair, you’re the senior surviving Grey Warden,” one of the Wardens said, approaching us hesitantly. “What do we do now?”

            Rather than answer, Alistair looked expectantly at me. Fuck, everyone was looking at me, my people and Grey Wardens both, like it was somehow my choice to make. I chewed my bottom lip for a moment, thinking everything over. Yeah, they’d pulled some shit, but they’d at least thought they were doing the right thing. Suddenly the spectre of what people might think of the Inquisition when all was said and done rose up in front of me, and I shuddered.

            Looking at Alistair, I said, “Why don’t you stay? Work with us. Do what you can to fix some of the damage.”

            “Thank you,” Alistair said. “I’m glad to have met you, Inquisitor. Hope you stay in touch. When you see Morrigan, tell her… Ah. Just tell her I stood there looking foolish. It will make her happy, at least.”

            As he limped away, I turned to Cassandra. “Can we go home now, please?”

Chapter Text

We travelled by night, to stay marginally cooler, and set up camp during the day, sleeping in tents that had been enchanted with, essentially, air con. They were very gratefully received, I’ll tell you that much. Cullen and I shared a tent, lying on camp beds side by side. At first, that’s all we did. But I couldn’t sleep, and when I rolled over I realised neither could Cullen – he was lying there, staring up at the canvas ceiling.

            “You alright?” I asked softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his chest.

            “When I saw the dragon arrive, I knew it must have been there for you,” he said. “It was… worse than the Winter Palace.”

            “I know. Knowing you were out there…” I started to trail my hand up and down his chest. His armour was off, obviously, replaced with a light shirt, and I was getting a really good feeling of just how firm he was. “God, I wish… I wish I didn’t…” I sighed heavily. “I want to do something to take my mind off things, you know? But I still don’t think I could… well.”

            “We can always just talk,” he pointed out, sounding amused. “I’m more than happy to distract you some other way, you know that.”

            “I know, but… I almost died, like, eight times yesterday. At a conservative estimate. I… I had to…” Nope, couldn’t talk about Hawke, not so soon. I shook my head sharply. “I didn’t know if you were out there hurt, or… I want to do something to feel alive. Yeah? I want us to be alive. Am I making any sense?”

            He gave me a soft smile. “Of course. But I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with, just because you’re upset. I really am happy just to talk.”

            “Talking, yeah?” I grinned, still tracing up and down his chest, my hand sliding just a little lower with every stroke. “Alright, let’s talk. Do you, uh. Do you… take care of yourself, Cull?”

            He looked briefly confused. Then his eyes widened, colour flooding his cheeks. “Oh, Maker’s breath. I take it you’re not talking about diet and exercise and avoiding unnecessary fights.”

            “I’m not,” I grinned. On seeing that colour in his cheeks, my smile faded. “Sorry, if it makes you uncomfortable –”

            “No, no, it’s alright.” He swallowed hard as my hand slid lower again, brushing the top of his trousers. “Yes. Yes, I… I do, on occasion. After particularly trying days, when I need to… wind down, as it were.”

            “Hmm. And what do you think of when you do it?”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Do you really need to ask?”

            Giggling, I said, “Indulge me, Commander. Take my mind off things.”

            “You.” He shook his head, though he was smiling. “I think of you. How you looked in your Winter Palace dress. How you look in your gear, which is no less attractive, to be clear.” He swallowed again. “How you might look out of it. I think of the sounds you made at the palace, when I touched you. How soft your skin is. What you might… might taste like.”

            “You’ve kissed me plenty.”

            “Not, uh…”

            “Oh! Right, I get it,” I said, my breath very short all of a sudden, images dancing in my head of him tasting me, of him in his room alone, hand working at himself as he thought about me. God, I was going to explode. “Just so you know, if it helps your imaginings… I’m quite loud.”

            “You are?”

            “Not the whole time, I’m not one of those girls who shrieks bloody murder from start to finish, though I am a bit of a chatterer. But I do have a terrible tendency to be a bit louder than I should when I come.”

            I coupled my words with finally sliding my hand low enough to rub at his cock, now visibly hard through his trousers. He let out a choked sound, almost of pain, and even as his hips bucked he caught my hand with his own. To my surprise, he pulled my hand away.

            “If,” he said, then had to shake his head and inhale a few times before he could speak again. “If we aren’t doing anything more, I feel like this is nothing but torture for us.” Laughing raggedly, he added, “Unless that’s the point, of course. Take your mind off the events of the battle by tormenting your commander?”

            “As if I’d do something so cruel,” I teased. Biting my lip, I said, “Listen, just because I don’t feel ready for you to do stuff to me, that doesn’t mean you have to be reduced to self-care only.”

            “Oh,” he said, surprised. “What… did you have in mind?”

            Slipping over onto his bed (I fervently hoped it wouldn’t collapse under us, that might spoil the mood), I eased his trousers down enough to pull his cock free. As I leaned towards it, he caught me by the shoulders, looking like it was costing him a lot as he said, “Emma, are you sure? Do you really want to do this?”

            “Bless you, sweet boy,” I said, and trailed my tongue around the head of his cock.

Cullen’s concern melted away immediately, which I took as something of a compliment. I took as much of him in my mouth as I could, smirking as this drew a long, shaking groan from him. It turned out Ellana didn’t have much by way of a gag reflex, so, that worked out pretty well. Cullen didn’t shove my head down or anything, I was free to move, but he couldn’t seem to help thrusting upwards occasionally.

            Towards the end, he rested a hand on my cheek, and I looked up at him. As soon as our eyes met, he came undone, the hand that had been on my face fisting in the collar of my shirt as he arched backwards and choked out a rough cry.

            “Emma,” he gasped, his hips twitching under me as he spilled down my throat. “Oh, Emma. Fuck.”

            There was something about hearing Cullen swear that felt wrong, and I couldn’t help giggling, even as I swallowed. The vibration drew another breathless groan from him, the hand that wasn’t gripping my shirt rubbing at his forehead as I sat back.

            “As good as you imagined?” I asked, wiping my mouth as daintily as possible.

            “Better. Emma, you have to let me do something to return the favour.”

            “It’s fine,” I laughed, as if I wasn’t so turned on it was causing me actual pain. “We don’t have to go tit-for-tat, Cullen, honestly.”

            “Please? Let’s just try.”

            His eyes were so earnest, and I was so desperate for something, that I bit my lip and nodded. Under Cullen’s direction, I lay back down on my own bed, flat on my back, as he ran a hand down under my own pyjama trousers and began to gently trace circles around my clit. His eyes were on me the whole time, his movements slow, ready to pull away at any second. That was what helped me go through with it, I think. Realising that I was ultimately the one in control. That if I said stop, he’d stop, no questions asked.

            But I didn’t say stop. I lay there, my breath coming heavier and faster, watching the muscles in his arm as he worked. After a while I reached up to grip his arm, and he paused for a second before realising I wasn’t trying to pull his hand away. I just needed to hang on to something, and everything in me wanted to feel it as those taut muscles clenched. He kept his eyes on my face, watching closely, and right before I came he pressed his mouth to mine, muffling my yelp into something that probably wouldn’t have been heard outside the tent. Probably.

            “Was that… alright?” he asked softly once my hips stopped bucking against his hand.

            “Yeah,” I laughed. “More than alright. I think it helps that we’re both still wearing clothes, you know? And also that you’re good with your hands.”

            “I live to serve, my lady,” he said wryly, kissing me again. “You weren’t that loud, either. I was expecting worse.”

            “Trust me, it gets worse.”

            “Well.” He kissed me a third time before going back to his own bed, and there we each lay, holding hands across the gap. “I very much look forward to things being worse.”

            I actually managed to fall asleep not long afterwards, too, so it was a great success all around, really.

*

                        The next day saw us stopping at this oasis, a crack in the desert that led down into a genuinely beautiful pool, surrounded by greenery and animals – snouflers and tuskets, both of which were piglike and weirdly cute, in a wrinkly, squishy sort of way. There was also a temple that Solas wanted to take a look at, and after getting in the way of everyone setting up camp I flew up there to sit beside him, watching the sun rise over the rim of the oasis. Below, Sera was chasing Dorian around with something squishy she’d found, and her and Bull’s raucous laughter, along with Dorian’s panicked threats, filled the otherwise peaceful air.

            “Varric still won’t talk to me,” I said quietly after a while. “I think he blames me.”

            “He does not blame you,” Solas said. “Not truly. He is in pain, and for the moment that pain is aimed at you, as the last person to see Hawke alive. That will not be the case forever. Give him time.”

            I sighed. “I should have –”

            “No,” he said, so sharply I looked over at him in confusion. The next time he spoke he was less sharp, though just as firm. “No, da’len. You cannot allow the regret of unavoidable choices to trap you. Hawke made her choice. If you had stayed to try to help her, all it would have accomplished is that you would both have been lost, while allowing demons to pour through the Veil unchecked. Varric has the luxury of blaming others for his grief. You cannot carry that regret.”

            “Okay. I’ll try to bear that in mind.” Gesturing to the temple behind us, I said, “Find anything of interest so far?”

            “I compiled a report on the notable features, in fact,” he said, handing me a sheet containing notes on the elven message written on the front of the temple, along with a translation.

            “Emma solas him var din’an,” I read out, smiling. “I didn’t realise my name was elven here. What does it mean?”

            “Literally, something like my or mine.”

            “Huh. And Solas… So that means, what, arrogance? Pride?” I laughed. “What were you like as a kid for your parents to have named you arrogance?” The faint smile he’d been wearing faded, and I kicked myself. “Sorry. You never talk about your family. Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do. I don’t want to push you into –”

            “It is not…” He sighed. “I cannot say it is a subject I enjoy speaking about, da’len. I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you thinking I don’t care, you know?”

            “I understand. I appreciate it.”

            Hoping to change the subject, I said, “So, this is some temple to prideful bastards then, rather than anything to do with the gods?”

            “So it would appear.”

            “Hm. Have I told you my theory on the elven gods yet?”

            “What’s that?”

            “Okay.” I clapped my hands together and turned to face him, which made him smile again. “So, when I was about eleven, I found this book on Norse mythology in my school’s library, right, and I went wild for it – sorry, that’s this old pantheon back home – especially this one guy, Loki. He was meant to be a trickster, that was his, like, role in the narrative, but he kept helping the other gods out all the same, even when they had issues he hadn’t caused.

            “But then suddenly he arranges to have the boss god’s favourite son killed by his not-favourite son, it was a whole thing, anyway, so the official version of the story is that he just did it to be a dick, right? Like, just out of nowhere he decided to escalate from pranks to murder, because everyone liked the favourite son or whatever. I’ve seen people say it’s because he’s just meant to be an allegory or whatever, like he’s just a concept, not really a character, you know? But little baby Emma couldn’t help thinking about what they must have done to him, to make him suddenly pivot into murder like that. I mean, they messed with his kids. Maybe that was it.”

            “I believe this was leading into a theory on the elven gods,” he said, sounding amused.

            “Right, yeah. So, I’ve read all the stuff about how Fen’Harel supposedly locked the gods and the Forgotten Ones away just because he could, just to be a dick and all. But… I don’t know. As a lifelong Loki liker, I can’t help but think… Is that the whole story? What if he had a reason for doing what he did? I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid…”

            “It’s not stupid.” He rubbed a hand over his face, huffing a laugh. “What did I do to deserve a pupil with such wisdom and empathy?"

            “Probably something horrible, let’s be real,” I said, making him laugh again. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m an outsider, I don’t have a whole life of prejudice to work through.”

            “Or it’s because you are more perceptive than most.”

            I snorted. “Yeah, alright, I’m sure that’s it.” I cocked my head. “So… you think my idea has legs, then? That maybe Fen’Harel wasn’t just a dickhead, that if he actually existed – obviously this is all assuming the elven gods ever actually existed – he might have had… At least a motive, if not a valid reason or whatever.”

            “Yes.” He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts for a moment, before slowly saying, “From my wanderings in the Fade, I have cause to believe that the elven gods may not always have been as benevolent as they are remembered. It is possible that Fen’Harel’s actions were a response to this, rather than something undertaken from a place of pure malice.” He laughed softly. “I tried to have this very discussion with several Dalish clans, in fact. None of them received it well.”

            I didn’t want to tell him that was probably because of his delivery (because as much as I loved him, I was absolutely certain that he’d told them his theories in the most “ummm actually” tone imaginable). Instead, I said, “Lucky for you, I’m built different.”

            He laughed again. “Yes,” he said, and we sat and watched the sun come up over the desert.

Chapter Text

Once again, I found myself at a loose end when we got back to Skyhold. Morrigan gave me a lesson on eluvians, these magic mirrors you could walk through like portals. She’d even set one up in a room off the garden, and took me through into this pocket dimension that looked like it was trapped in a soap bubble, the sky a shimmering mass of colours. In there, she told me that Corypheus was probably hunting for an eluvian of his own so he could get into the Fade. Problem was, we had no idea where any eluvians were, and until we did there was nothing I could do.

            I tried to volunteer to go to Sahrnia Quarry, chasing a lead on Corypheus’ right-hand-man Samson (a guy Cullen apparently knew from Kirkwall who, best I could tell, he had a sort of sitcom archnemesis thing going on with, like he’d start shaking with fury at just the mention of the guy’s name), but I was told it was too dangerous of an expedition for me. A team was sent out there, of course. I just wasn’t allowed on it. I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been grounded for scaring everyone by yeeting myself into the Fade.

            So, I had to just stay home. I think I was meant to be taking it easy or something. Instead, I walked, endlessly, constantly roaming the grounds. If someone had asked I could have lied and said I was trying to keep my physical fitness up, you know, working on my cardio. The truth was, I was hunting for company.

            It was an odd thing, for me. Back home, I’d happily gone days without speaking to people. At one point after I moved home, before I got a job, my mother and sister had gone on holiday together, and it was only when they came back that I realised I hadn’t spoken a word for the entire duration, and I’d been fine with it. In university, much as I loved my flatmates, I’d occasionally stick up a ‘do not disturb’ sign and lock my door. If I was especially stressed, I’d climb into my wardrobe or under my desk and bask in the peaceful darkness. I tried climbing under my bed a few times, but stopped when I came face to face with a spider the size of a grown man’s hand and almost ripped my tits off as I fought my way back out.

            Not anymore. I’d tried spending some time alone in my big fancy bedroom, reading or just looking at the view. But I kept seeing it. The moment I slammed the rift closed with Hawke on the other side, watching her magic in the distance as all those spider-things charged towards me until I made the choice to doom her. I kept seeing the Divine’s face, determination and fear both, as she let go of my hand. I heard the dry snap of my ribs breaking, always wondering how something that had caused such phenomenal pain could have sounded so flat and undramatic.

            Worst of all, if I didn’t cut those thoughts off early I’d find myself back in Haven, trapped between Corypheus and his dragon. The horrible moment of helpless certainty where I knew I wasn’t going to make it out alive. Somehow, the fact I’d lived through it anyway didn’t help at all.

            This is your fault, Herald.

            So yeah, I walked. I stopped to talk to dozens of people, anyone who didn’t seem to be too busy for a chat. And I slept as little as possible, usually while drunk. It was fine, though. I was sure it would be fine.

            “Emma!” Culled called on day five of my grounding, stopping me on one of my perpetual laps of the grounds. He had a dwarf woman with him, small even by dwarf standards, red haired, button-nosed, staring up at me with her mouth dangling open.

            “Hi, Cull, what’s up?”

            “This is Dagna, the arcanist we talked about. Dagna, this is Emma Morgan, the Inquisitor.”

            “Wow, it’s actually you!” Dagna breathed. She leapt forward to grab my Marked hand, peering at the Anchor before hastily pretending she’d just wanted to shake my hand. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you! Wow, after you’ve been in the Fade physically twice, and the Mark, and… Can I take samples from you?”

            The slightly bemused smile I’d been wearing froze. “Beg pardon?”

            “Ohhh, that sounded bad. I mean – can I cut something off you and do things to it?”

            I looked at Cullen, who shrugged, looking about as baffled as I felt. “They kept the clothes I was wearing when I came out of the Fade. You could always run some tests on those?”

            “Oh, yes! Thank you, that sounds great! And it’s great to meet you, too! Oh, and I’m getting everything ready so that once we know enough about Samson’s magic armour – you knew he had magic lyrium armour made for him, right? Weird stuff, you couldn’t pay me to – anyway, I’m hoping I might be able to come up with a way to break it, or maybe just make it not work as good, either way, I’ve got all my gear ready, and I can’t wait to get started!”

            “Okay. Uh. Hell of a first day.”

            “Right? Nice meeting you!”

            “Ye, uh, yeah, same to you!” I watched as she scampered off towards the main hall, presumably headed for the undercroft, where our blacksmith had set up shop after our relocation. To Cullen, I said, “Well, she’s enthusiastic, at least.”

            Cullen laughed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close. “She certainly is. Still, if it makes you any safer should you have to face Samson, we’ll be glad to have her on board.”

            “I don’t doubt it,” I sighed. “You know, I’d never really thought about what it must be like for you, being stuck here without knowing what’s happening to me. But being at Adamant, knowing you were out there somewhere, in danger, and I couldn’t know if something happened to you until long after the fact? I don’t know if I could keep doing that, over and over.”

            “It isn’t an ideal situation, no. Although knowing you have that odd healing ability does ease my mind a little. While I remember, Bull was looking for you earlier. Something to do with the Qunari.”

            “I’ll check in with him now.” I grinned. “Can I sneak a kiss before I go?”

            Cullen responded with the ever-so-slightly smug smile he always wore when I asked for a kiss. “I live to serve, my lady.”

            Right as our lips touched a pie – lemon meringue, if I was any judge – slammed into both our faces, accompanied by a peal of mocking laughter. We slowly pulled apart, Cullen blinking through the mess. I spat out a fragment of crust and said, “Excuse me, darling. I must commit a murder.”

            “Oh frig!”

            It turned out Sera could run pretty fast, when she wanted to. Just not fast enough to outrun a raven that turned into an elf midair to tackle her.

*

                        Take two on our romantic moment a day later, Cullen and I were up on the battlements together, somewhere Sera had no chance of sneaking up on us, so long as we didn’t get complacent. Alright, we were mostly up there to discuss the opportunity Bull had presented, but if I got chilly and had to be cuddled, which left us open to kissing whenever we fancied, well, that wasn’t a bad way to spend our time.

            “A formal alliance with the Qunari,” Cullen said thoughtfully. “It would be unheard of.”

            “Bull seemed less than enthusiastic about the prospect. But yeah, imagine having a bunch of dreadnoughts on our side, if nothing else.”

            “If nothing else. Although… Oh.” He pulled back, and I automatically started to shield my face before he added, “Hello, Cole.”

            My smile fell once I got a good look at the kid. “What’s up, Baby Bird?”

            He was even jitterier than usual, eyes darting around, hands wringing, shoulders hunched like he was expecting to be hit. “Solas said you’d find an amulet for me, if I asked. To keep me from being bound.”

            “Yeah, of course, I’ll speak with Solas and –”

            “It said I’m like it.”

            “Ah. The Nightmare.”

            “It said I’m like it because I make people forget, but I don’t make them forget for me,” he went on, sounding close to tears. “It’s for them, easier for them, but it’s for me, too, so I can wash clean. I’m not like it, I’m not, I’m not, I’m me, and if I’m not, you’ll stop me! You’ll kill me!”

            Cole grabbed my hands, gripping too tight, red-rimmed eyes staring into mine, and I realised with a lurch that he was hopeful. He wanted me to say I’d kill him. Genuinely, desperately wanted it. All I had to do was say yes, that I’d do it, didn’t matter that I didn’t mean it, just saying the words would make him happy.

            But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I thought about it, thought about what would happen if Cole lost himself to Despair, imagined those trembling hands as claws reaching for my throat, and I realised I could never do it. He’d kill me before I could force myself to hurt him. This skinny, weird spirit that looked like a skinny, rabbity kid, and not only was I willing to die before harming him, I couldn’t even lie that I’d do it, not even to save his feelings. What a wonder it was.

            “I will,” Cullen said. I turned to him, aghast, only to realise he sounded almost gentle. He’d realised the same thing I had, at much the same time, and he was saying it to calm Cole, not to threaten him. “Should you ever turn, should you ever try to harm people, I will be there to stop you. I promise, Cole.”

            “Thank you,” he breathed.

            “And you’ll do the same for me,” I said impulsively.” If I lose my way and start hurting people, you’ll put me down, right?”

            Cole’s eyes met mine, shocked and hurt and then, after a moment, understanding. He looked down at our clasped hands and said, “Oh,” then surprised me by hugging me painfully tight. By the time I realised what he was doing, he was already hurrying back to the tavern.

            “Thank you,” I said.

            Cullen smiled, putting an arm around me and kissing my temple. “I hoped it might help. And… the poor lad seemed upset. I wanted to set his mind at ease, if I could. Maker knows he's done enough of that for me. Or he's tried, at least.”

            “I appreciate it. I really do, Cullen. I’d better go and ask Leliana to get people out looking for this amulet.”

            He looked at me for a long moment, then smiled. “Come with me.”

            I followed along, bemused, as he led me through the main hall, through Josephine’s little office (passing along the request to send Leliana’s people out amulet-hunting as we went, which briefly made me think that was where we were going to stop), and on into the war room. He closed the doors behind us and wedged a chair up against them.

            “There’s no lock,” he said by way of explanation.

            “This is either quite ominous, or very promising.”

            Cullen laughed, propelling me backwards until I was sat on the war table. We kissed for a while as he pulled his gloves off and tossed them aside, undid the button on the not-jeans I was wearing, and hooked his fingers into the waistband.

            “You need a pick-me-up,” he said quietly, words interspersed with soft, sucking kisses down my neck. “So, let’s try something. If you want to stop, if anything feels wrong, just say the word and I’ll stop right away. Alright?”

            “Okay,” I said, breathless, wanting fighting with claustrophobia until it made my head spin.

            I lifted my hips for him to pull my not-jeans free, leaving me bare from the waist down, and suddenly there was a weird sort of shyness mixing with everything else going on inside my head. Honestly, it was a miracle I was still conscious. My breath hitched as he knelt in front of me, his hazel eyes wide as he looked up.

            “Is this alright?”

            “Yep. Yep, it… uh… Good so far.”

            Dorian had warned me about the dangers of having sex while a mage – apparently the first time he had an orgasm in company he set the bed on fire, and the threat was always there for people gifted with magic. During our encounter in the tent, I’d been so worried about that, and everything else, that my climax had been a distracted, perfunctory sort of thing. If I hadn’t been so turned on to start with, I’d never have gotten there, it would have just been a lot of awkward rubbing and then maybe a bit of faking to save his feelings.

            That day in the war room was different. As Cullen kissed his way slowly up my thigh I kept my Marked hand well away from either of us, just to be safe. I’d have done the same with my right hand too, but as soon as his hot mouth closed on me, tongue flicking against my clit, I couldn’t help but thread my fingers through his hair.

            The man knew what he was doing, I’d give him that. All my shyness, the sense of things not being right, melted away as his mouth worked against me. He slid his hand up my thigh, then slipped his fingers inside me, first one, then two, probing, questing, until he found the spot that made me arch against him with a gasping cry, fingers tightening in his hair. He let out a smug little chuckle and crooked his fingers again, a few times over, and that was all I needed.

            I opened a smallish rift as I came, which I thought might freak Cullen out, but he only laughed. Hastily closing it again, I smiled down at him and weakly said, “Sorry about that.”

            Cullen laughed again, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “I take it as a compliment.”

            “Please do.” I slipped off the table as he stood up, pulling up my not-jeans with shaking hands. “Do, it… very compliment.”

            He cocked his head. “Are you alright?”

            “Think my brain might have melted a bit. Been a while since I’ve come that hard.” He looked even smugger than the time he’d beaten me at chess, and I couldn’t help kissing him. “Don’t get insufferable, Commander.”

            “I’ll do my best, my lady, but I make no promises.”

Chapter Text

The Qunari thing went to shit.

            Should have expected it by that point, really. The fact I was still disappointed by the way it played out was testament to my eternal naivete, I suppose. Or testament to my entire life being fucking clownshoes.

            We headed out to the Storm Coast to meet with Bull’s friend from back in the day, an elf guy called Gatt who’d converted to the Qun after Bull rescued him from being a Tevinter slave. He seemed a nice enough guy, even if he insisted on calling Bull by his Qunari name, Hissrad, which apparently translated to Liar. I found that a bit weird, since Bull had been nothing but scrupulously honest the whole time I’d known him, to the point of admitting to being a spy, but I was sure the Qunari had their reasons. Probably.

            In any case, we were meant to be intercepting a Venatori operation, stopping them from smuggling red lyrium. Our land-based teams were set to kill off the land-based Vints, while also covering the dreadnought that was coming in to take out the smuggler ships. Sounded simple enough.

            The Chargers were involved, and they went off to attack one headland while our team, consisting of just my inner circle, hit the other. Gatt had been very intent on the idea of us moving as part of a small, mobile attack unit, so Gael’s people were hanging back at the nearest Inquisition camp, ready to play cavalry if necessary.

            Both teams took out our targets easily enough, with the Venatori not realising we were even there until we were already on top of them. We set off the signals for the dreadnought to come in and destroy the smuggler ships, which they did, all according to plan. But then a whole bunch of extra Venatori turned up, heading straight for the Chargers. Too many extra Venatori.

            “Call the retreat,” I said immediately, since Bull was the one holding the horn that would signal to the Chargers. “They’ve got time to fall back to Gael’s position if they move now.”

            “Yeah,” Bull said reluctantly.

            “If they pull back, we’ll lose the dreadnought,” Gatt pointed out sharply.

            The first time someone proposed the Trolley Problem to me, I only asked one thing – do I know any of the people tied down?

            Rationally, I knew there were far more people on the dreadnought than on the opposite headland. I understood that keeping the alliance with the Qunari would stand to help more people in the long run. But the people over there were faces I knew. They were Krem, who I’d known even longer than Bull. Dalish, who was still pretending what she had going on with Marcus was just a casual thing. Stitches, their healer, who kept slipping me elfroot potions after Solas cut me off. They were people.

            That’s why I rounded on Bull and, cutting across Gatt’s admonishments, snarled, “Call them back, now.”

            “Gatt has a point, Boss.”

            “Bull, you sound the retreat right fucking now, or I swear to Christ I’m going to fly over there myself!”

            His head whipped around, eye fixing on me, and for a moment I had the uncomfortable feeling he was looking into me. Then, without another word, he blew the Fail Horn, and on the distant headland Krem and the others took off towards camp.

            “All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For them?” Gatt yelled, jabbing an accusing finger at me as the Venatori, unopposed, set the dreadnought on fire.

            “He’s not called Liar, his name’s the Iron Bull,” I said. Cocking my head, I narrowed my eyes at Gatt. “Did you plan it this way?”

            “What?”

            “Earlier, you said you knew Bull would give the Chargers the easier target. Did you know that was the one the Venatori would try to reclaim first as well?”

            “What? Why would I –”

            “You wanted to test if Bull was still loyal, so you set all this up, right? To see if he’d choose the alliance over his people?” The burning dreadnought exploded spectacularly behind me, and Gatt seized the opportunity to walk briskly away. I blinked a few times, looking up at Bull. “Um. Sorry about that. Are you –”

            “Don’t want to talk about it right now, Boss,” Bull said, this horrible hollow edge to his voice. “Let’s just go.”

            We trudged off back the way we’d come, Cassandra falling into step beside me. “I could probably have handled that a bit more diplomatically,” I said quietly.

            Cassandra laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “I am in no position to judge, my friend.”

*

                        Bull wasn’t talking to me on the way home. He barely spoke to anyone, mind you, so maybe it wasn’t just that he hated me in particular. But Varric, at least, was willing to come along with me, Solas, and Cole when we took a detour to work out what in Redcliffe was preventing the anti-binding amulet we’d found for him from working. I was expecting there to be some kind of weird magic bullshit at work.

            I wasn’t expecting Cole to throw himself at some random guy, shouting, “You killed me! You locked me up in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!”

            “Whoa, hey, Baby Bird, what the hell are you doing?” I grabbed his shoulder, distracting him long enough for the guy to make a run for it. Cole shook me off impatiently, trying to go after him, only for Varric to step into his path.

            “Take it easy, kid.”

            “He killed me! That’s why the amulet doesn’t work, he killed me, and I have to kill him back!”

            “Cole,” I said, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re not dead.”

            “She’s right, Cole,” Solas put in. “This man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body.”

            “A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dank dark. A captured apostate. They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death. I came through to help… and I couldn’t. So I became him. Cole.”

            “Oh, Baby Bird,” I whispered, hand over my mouth.

            “That makes the guy we just saw a templar,” Varric muttered.

            “He killed me,” Cole growled, stalking after the man.

            I stared after him, stricken, as Varric and Solas argued back and forth over whether it was better to make Cole more human or more like a spirit. I barely even heard them, stuck on the horror of the idea of a boy, the real Cole, being thrown into a dark hole and left to die, scared and alone and in pain. The horror of a spirit of Compassion trying to help… He should have turned into a Despair demon, like Solas’ Wisdom spirit friend. A spirit denied his purpose. The fact he didn’t was a minor miracle. The Compassion spirit that he was must have specifically chosen to become Cole instead, deliberately chosen to hold onto that little bit of hope.

            “We cannot change our own natures!” Solas snapped.

            “Can’t we?” I shrugged as they turned to look at me. “Before I came here, I was a mousy little office girl. I could barely choose what I wanted for dinner, and I couldn’t stand up for myself at all, not even if someone cornered me and started getting creepy. Now look at me. We can change, if we want to.”

            “Cole is a spirit!”

            “He's a person,” I said. “Spirits are people too, right? And Cole, he... He should have become a demon, like broken spirits are meant to, but he chose to become a human instead. So why don’t we let him commit to it? Why don’t we respect his choice? Varric, could you –”

            “Don’t worry, Dreamer.” Varric patted me on the back. “I’ve got a plan.”

            We were left there as he hustled after Cole, Solas shaking his head. “I cannot agree with this, da’len.”

            “I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. But I believe this is the right thing to do. People can change, hahren. We just have to give them the chance.”

            He stared at me, arms folded, for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he nodded once, before turning away.

            When Cole and Varric came back, Cole didn’t seem much happier, but Varric assured me the templar was still alive, and Cole was ready to move on. We headed back to the camp at the gate in twos, Cole and Solas walking a little ahead, speaking quietly. I looked at Varric as we went.

            “I was afraid you weren’t talking to me.”

            “I’m not the type of guy to hold grudges, you know that.” He gave me a sad smile, patting my shoulder. “I realised that being mad at you for closing that rift would be a waste of everyone’s time, not to mention being unfair. I know you well enough to know if there’d been any way to save her without drowning the world in demons you’d have done it, your own hide be damned. Just like I know… knew. Knew Hawke well enough to know she made her own choice, and I don’t get to take that from her.”

            “I’m still sorry.”

            “I know, Dreamer.” He patted me again. “I appreciate it. But don’t be.”

*           

                        When we stopped in a tavern on the way home, I asked Cole to join me at a table in the corner, convincing him to try something the menu described as “wyvern wings (contains no actual wyvern)” for his first meal as more of a person. He stared down at a plate of what looked like chicken wings in sauce (maybe barbecue?) with trepidation, but after I took one, he began to nibble cautiously at another.

            “How will I help people when they can remember me?” he whispered, since even in the short time since we’d left Redcliffe, it had become clear that Cole couldn’t do his ‘forget me’ thing anymore. One girl in the previous village had paid particularly close attention to the kid, though Cole didn’t seem to understand why, and honestly, that was probably for the best. He needed to get used to being a person before he started noticing girls, in my humble opinion.

            “You can still see their hurts, yeah?” He nodded, and I said, “Well, there you go. Sometimes knowing someone thinks they matter enough to have taken the time out to try to help them helps, even if that person is a stranger and, you know, maybe a bit weird. Sometimes, someone just being there is enough.” When he still looked uncertain, my stomach twisted. “Cole… it hasn’t been very long. If you really don’t want to be like this, I’m sure Solas will have some ideas how to make you more like a spirit again.”

            “You don’t want me to be more like a person?”

            “All I want is for you to be happy.”

            He stared at me in silence for so long I had time to start getting concerned. Then he broke into a beaming smile. “Gentle,” he said. “You watch me walk into darkness over and over, and you always worry. Thank you.” Leaning back in his chair, he considered the wing in his hand before finally nodding. “I think… I want to do it. I want to be more Cole, I mean. A real person.”

            “Then I’ll support you every step of the way.”

            Cole looked over at the group at large, taking up most of the space in the small roadside tavern. Dorian was having an animated discussion with Krem, Sera was trying to get Gael and a few of the Chargers to stop singing ‘Sera Was Never’, Solas was arguing about dwarven lack of ambition with Varric and Rocky, Bull’s dwarven sapper (Blackwall and Cassandra were talking quietly together in a corner, being responsible adults).

            “Blackwall said something a while ago, about how Varric seems to have adopted me,” Cole said. “I didn’t really understand it at the time. Now I think I do.”

            “Yeah,” I chuckled, “he’d love to hear he’s your dad, I’m sure.”

            “Yes. Would you –” He ducked his head, face hidden by the brim of his hat.

            “Would I… also adopt you?”

            “Only if you wanted to.”

            “Baby Bird, look at me, okay? There is literally nothing that would make me happier.”

            “Good. Thank you.” Smiling, he glanced aside and stood up. “I’ll talk to you later.”

            Somehow Bull had snuck up on us. “Don’t forget your wings, little man,” I said, snagging one more for myself before handing over the plate. “Share with the class if you don’t think you can manage them all yourself.”

            “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Bull grabbed a few wings of his own before taking Cole’s place.

            “How much did you hear?”

            “Enough to know congratulations are in order,” he said wryly. “You’re glowing, Boss.”

            “That’s just chicken grease.” I looked over at the chaos of the team, half of them now descending on Cole to grab their own wings, and shook my head slowly. “If you’d told me a year ago that today I’d be the head of a religious military organisation thanks to my magic hand, while also being adoptive mother to a kid who’s also sort of a ghost, I’d have thought at least one of us was having a brain aneurism.”

            Bull laughed. “Yeah. Shit got real weird, real fast.”

            “Listen,” I sighed, “I shouldn’t have pushed so hard earlier. That was your friend, your people, and I –”

            “Come on, Boss,” he said softly, nodding towards the Chargers. “You made the right call.”

            “Okay. Good.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “Want me to adopt you, too?”

            He laughed so hard it drew people over to join us.

*

                        Cullen met us on the way back, riding at the head of a small group of soldiers that included Scout Harding; girl kept turning up when I least expected her. I could tell it was something to do with Samson even before anyone spoke. Cullen got this look in his eyes whenever the topic came up, sort of like our old family collie when faced with his mortal nemesis, Guys On Bicycles. Anyway, I was right. They’d tracked down Samson’s hideout, and we headed off to fuck him up.

            Unfortunately, by the time we got there he’d already taken off. All we were left with was a burning ruin, a whole load of red templars, and Samson’s Tranquil friend, Maddox, the guy who’d apparently made that weird lyrium armour Samson was living in. Maddox had also taken poison before we showed up, as he emotionlessly informed us when we found him tucked away in a back room.

            “We can heal you,” I said immediately, turning to Solas. “Right? We can –”

            “Not blightcap,” Solas said gently. “Not so long after ingestion.”

            “We weren’t going to hurt you,” I said, feeling absurdly hurt by the notion that he might have thought we’d torture him. “We would have asked you some questions, but that would be it.”

            “And that, I could not allow,” Maddox said, still in that perfectly bland tone all the Tranquil used, even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

            He died quickly after that. Cullen directed the others to search the place for anything we could potentially use. I just stood there, staring down at poor dead Maddox, trying to work through my own feelings as Cullen came back over to rub slow circles between my shoulders.

            “Is that how people see me?” I asked eventually. “Some monster who’d torture a poor helpless Tranquil?”

            “You have killed an awful lot of his people.”

            “This is a terrible time for you to start making jokes, just by the way.” But it got me to crack a smile all the same, as I leaned back into him. “You know the other week, when Cassandra killed the Lord Seeker?”

            “I received multiple reports on the subject, yes.”

            “Well, she picked up this big book of Seeker secrets in the process. Seekerets? Anyway, one of them is that it might be possible to cure Tranquility. Some of them end up a bit messed up afterwards, but still. Has she told you about it?”

            He sighed. “Yes, we have discussed the situation. It would be… There are mistakes I would set right, if I could. Cases I allowed to be pushed through without argument, because I believed Meredith’s line that it was necessary. I might have saved Maddox, had I spoken up. If we can one day reverse the process on most Tranquil, then… my soul might rest easier, I suppose.”

            “We’re a pair, aren’t we? The bloodthirsty Inquisitor and her brand-wielding boytoy.”

            Cullen spluttered a laugh. “Boytoy?”

            “Alright.” I reached up to pat his cheek. “Consort, then. Oh, by the way, I’m Cole’s mother now.”

            I was expecting to shock him again, but he only snorted. “Is that meant to be some grand revelation?”

            “Alright, smartarse, then Cole thinks he’s my son now.”

            “Hardly more surprising. But I’m happy for you, all the same.” Harding called to us from outside the building, and Cullen kissed my neck before we headed outside to see all the crap our little flock of magpies had proudly scavenged for us.

Chapter Text

We’d barely been home a week when the word came down that Corypheus’ army had been spotted booking it for somewhere deep in the Arbor Wilds, a forested region down south. So off we went, the entire Inquisition army marching out, alongside what was left of the forces of Orlais, and even this weird militaristic cult I’d accidentally become the leader of while passing through the Storm Coast (long story). It was the biggest mobilisation of forces I’d ever seen, making even Adamant look like a fun day out, and Cary Elkwes and I were hiding at its head. Very weird.

            When it came to fighting, though, I was made to hang back until we were basically at our destination. They insisted I had to just sit there at a campfire with Josephine, Morrigan, Celene, and Briala, chatting like people weren’t dying all around us, and my boyfriend wasn’t out there somewhere, putting himself in harm’s way while I sat drinking tea. God, I hate tea. I don't even care if that makes me a bad Welsh person, I've never liked it. Maybe that's what happened, I didn't get sucked into Thedas, I just got exiled from the UK so hard it sent me into another dimension.

            Celene gave a tinkling little laugh when she saw the frown I was wearing. “This is your first time being present for a battle you are not permitted to take part in, is it not?”

            I did my best to smile at her. “Yes. They let me get involved much sooner at Adamant.”

            Nodding, she said, “Sometimes doing nothing can be the hardest thing. Particularly when one we care for is in harm’s way in our place.” She and Briala shared a look that managed to make me smile, even under the circumstances.

            “Once we receive word that the structure Corypheus seeks has been located, you will be free to join the fray,” Josephine said, expertly weaving together a soothing sort of patronisation with a steely warning. “Better that than have you running blindly through the wilderness, no? Until that happens, why not relax?”

            Oh yeah, relax, right. I sat there, sipping horrible tea and trying to smile as the proper ladies chatted, and all the while I could hear screams and the clang of metal on metal, and even fucking explosions, off in the distance. Eventually Harding came over to tell me as safe a path as possible had been cleared between the forward camp and the structure. Then Morrigan and I were allowed to make our goodbyes and take off into the woods.

            “Wish I knew what we were walking into,” I said as we hurried off towards where the others, having been deemed not fancy enough to sit with the empress, were hanging out. “Wandering into ancient ruins usually leads to me getting yoinked across the room by a revenant, or something equally un-fun.”

            “In fact, I suspect the ruins we seek to be the Temple of Mythal.”

            “Oh, cool. Oh no, hang on. Religious ancient ruins have traditionally been even worse on the ‘getting wrecked by undead front.”

            “And yet if Corypheus seeks this place, then surely the eluvian he covets must lie within.”

            “Fantastic,” I sighed.

            We slogged our way through a rainforest which was actually quite beautiful, all ferns and giant trees with these bright blue parrot-things. We spent the whole time fighting both red templars and these weird elves in fancy gold armour that started showing up out of nowhere to fuck both sides up, so I didn’t get to sightsee the way I wanted. There were even a few Grey Wardens coming at us, presumably the last of the mind-controlled ones from Adamant.

            As we drew nearer the temple I started jettisoning team members, letting them peel off to cover our backs until eventually I was only with Solas and Morrigan (for magic and elf-related advice), Cole (for the sensing of vibes), and Bull (to have at least one competent warrior). After all, despite being told Corypheus and Samson were out there somewhere, I hadn’t seen any sign of them. Better to leave most of the team back to hold them off, right? Then my little strike force could break into the place before they showed their faces.

            Naturally, then, we walked through a passageway into the outer part of the temple, only to find that I’d cocked up completely and both Corypheus and Samson were already on the other side, along with even more mind-controlled Grey Wardens (on their side) and more of those weird elves (very much not on their side). Ah, piss.

            We got there just in time to hear Corypheus announce that the elves wouldn’t keep him from something called a ‘Well of Sorrows’, before he exploded. Seems the elves were determined to keep him out, and they also had magical booby traps set up. A few elves and Wardens were also caught in the blast, but Corypheus himself caught the worst of it, literally reducing him to mush.

            Samson was still up and walking, however, along with a handful of red templars, and judging by the smug look he threw over his shoulder as he walked into the temple, I felt like he probably shouldn’t be allowed to get hold of that thing either. It seemed like the explosion had been the only trap in that section, or else any traps present needed live elves to trigger them, so as I got my team moving, I felt pretty confident.

            Picking our way through all those blasted-apart corpses became even less fun when one of them suddenly started jerking around, spraying some sort of black ichor everywhere and shrieking. I tried to be professional, but still couldn’t help yelling, “What the fuck? What the fuck, Morrigan, what is that?”

            “It cannot be!” was all she had to say on the matter, which, like, helpful.

            A hand emerged from that screaming lump of goo, a hand that was obviously one of Corypheus’, somehow, and somewhere in the distance I heard that bloody dragon roaring. “Alright,” I said, “fuck all of this, everyone inside the temple, now! Now!”

            We ran for it, slamming the temple doors closed before the dragon could close in, and it was a good job Samson had been expecting goopified Corypheus to follow and had left the door open for him, because the thing sealed itself with an Adobe Premier lensflare effect as soon as it was shut.

            “What the fuck was that?” I demanded as soon as we were clear. “He exploded, and then shit got really weird.”

            “Yes,” Morrigan sighed. “It would appear that when Corypheus dies his life force passes to any blighted creature, darkspawn or Grey Warden.”

            “So, that’s how he survived Hawke, and the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “And it also means we can’t kill him, right? He’ll just respawn. That’s why the Wardens had him locked up, too. Fuck.”

            “So it would appear. ‘Tis strange. Archdemons possess the same ability, and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them. Yet, as you say, they locked Corypheus away. Perhaps they knew he could do this, but not how.”

            “Great. Just great. And he’s here looking for the Well of Sorrows, rather than an eluvian. What is that, anyway? Is it a type of eluvian or something?”

            “No,” Morrigan and Solas said together, Morrigan following up with, “In truth, I am unsure what that could be referring to.”

            “You mean you don’t know,” Solas said bitchily.

            “I am unsure!”

            That pretty much set the tone for our journey through the temple, which as far as I could tell was the size of the small city. Morrigan would point something out and explain it – a Fen’Harel wolf statue in Mythal’s temple, mosaics depicting various other elven gods – only for Solas to correct her in the bitchiest tone I’d ever heard from him, which was really saying something. Still, I also got to do a fun puzzle that involved lighting up floor panels in the right order, which was apparently some kind of penitent’s respect thing. No one else seemed to be enjoying that, but I was having a whale of a time.

            Before we walked through the door I’d unlocked with my puzzling, Morrigan took me aside and admitted she actually did have an idea about what the Well was, or at least, that she understood it was something with both a ‘boon and a price’, and that she wanted to save whatever it was because she appreciated weird old shit. Something like that, she put it a lot more eloquently, of course. I agreed to save it, if at all possible, because, you know, I was also a fan of weird old shit.

            Heading through the doors into the temple proper, we were immediately greeted by a bunch of those strange elves, drawing arrows on us. I waved at the one who seemed to be their leader and said, “Hi.”

            The guy had a long, angular face with Mythal’s vallaslin branching over his forehead, and best I could tell he was bald under the deep hood he wore. Honestly, he was giving weird Solas vibes. He gave me a once over as I waved and said, “You are unlike the other invaders. You have the features of one of the Elvhen. You bear the mark of magic which is… familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who have disturbed our slumber?” 

            “We came here to stop them,” I said, trying to balance matching his level of confidence while remaining as polite as possible. “I’m Emma Morgan, the Inquisitor. The… things attacking your temple attacked my people first. We came here to stop them. We didn’t even know you were here, so we damn sure didn’t come here looking to start trouble with anyone other than Corypheus and his goons, you know?”

            He regarded me silently for a moment. “I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir’abelasan.”

            “The Place of the Way of Sorrows,” Morrigan translated in a whisper. “He speaks of the Well!”

            “It is not for you,” Abelas snapped. “It is not for any of you!”

            “Hang on, going back to what you just said.” I made an idiotic rewinding motion with my finger, which at least made Abelas look less angry and more confused, so, score one for Emma. “You were tasked with protecting the temple, and you sleep in between. Then… are you ancient elves? Real ancient elves, from all the way back before the Imperium destroyed Arlathan? Because if so, holy shit.”

            “The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan,” Abelas responded archly. “We Elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors of this sanctuary closed, our time was over.”

            “… What?” I threw a look at Solas, who seemed to be avoiding catching my eye. “Did you ever see anything like that in the Fade?”

            “I… may have heard whispers,” he admitted reluctantly. “But it is hard to tell truth from fact in the Fade.”

            Shaking my head, I turned back to Abelas. “Listen, I didn’t come here to steal or defile or any of that. I came to stop those monsters from stealing and defiling. I don’t want any trouble with you or your people, just with Corypheus and his.”

            Abelas regarded me closely for a moment longer. “I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal.” Thank God I enjoyed doing those glowy puzzles, holy shit. “If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart… and never return.”

            “Sounds good,” I said, as both Morrigan and Solas started trying to talk to me. Didn’t need to get stuck between those two again right then. In truth, some part of me was bitterly disappointed by the idea that there were these ancient, knowledgeable beings in the world, and I wouldn’t get to question them on what they knew, the truth behind the history. Then I sternly reminded myself that elven history wasn’t technically even mine, and just walking out of there with as little bloodshed as possible was a win. “I really appreciate you being so reasonable.”

            His face twitched with something that was either amusement or confusion. “I might say the same. Now, you will be guided to those you seek. As for the Vir’abelasan, worry not. It shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

            Abelas turned and marched away, as beside me Morrigan yelled and turned into a crow to follow him. I hadn’t known that was something she could do until that exact moment, so that took me more than a little by surprise. Wish she’d mentioned it earlier, I’d have liked to go flying with someone. Bird Buddies.

            Anyway, no time to worry about that. This old elf lady dressed in Sentinel armour was barking orders at us in elven, which I assumed meant she was the guide Abelas had mentioned. We were led through the secret ways of the temple, past a load of beautiful art and shrines and treasure that got my fingers itching.

            “I wish we could stop and have a proper look around,” I said quietly to Solas, “don’t you?”

            “It would… certainly be illuminating,” he said, sounding far less jazzed than I’d have expected. Overall, he was more subdued than I’d have thought, keeping his head down, almost like he didn’t want to look at any of the artifacts we were passing.

            Before having a chance to unpack any of that, we came out into the open again. Directly opposite the door, up on a little hill, was the Well. The sun slanted down through the ceiling in a way that could only have been a deliberate design feature, lighting straight on the Well like Mufasa trying to make a point.

            “So, Mythal endures,” Solas said warmly.

            “It’s loud.” Cole gave me a troubled look. “And so cold.”

            A shout came from below before I could answer either of them, reminding all of us that Samson was still going for the Well. I glanced at the others, and we took off running, unfortunately arriving too late to save any of the Sentinel elves, just in time to interrupt the motivational speech Samson was giving his templars. He turned and I got my first proper look at him; pallid, thinning black hair, bloodshot eyes. He looked unwell. Like he’d been seriously ill for a long time.

            “Inquisitor,” he said, sounding weirdly conversational. “You and those elf-things don’t know when to stop. You’ve hunted us half across Thedas. I should’ve guessed you’d follow us into this hole.”

            “Let’s not forget your boss started all of this, mate,” I said with no real rancour, which made him smile. “We’re just following through. I found Maddox, by the way.”

            He tensed, snarling, “If you hurt him, I –”

            “He killed himself,” I said, surprised. “Of course I’d never have hurt him. I thought he was acting on your orders, honestly.”

            “No,” he said, with such genuine regret it gave me pause. “I told him not to… At least he died as one of us, then. One of the faithful.” Shaking himself, he hitched on a smile to brag, “Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what’s inside the Well?”

            “Water?”

            “Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor.”

            “Can’t let that happen, Samson,” I said. “I’ve seen the world we’ll get if Corypheus wins. A dead world full of demons. Not on my watch.”

            “As if you could stand against him,” he sneered, before literally flexing on me, waves of power emanating from his weird armour. “This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it’s a new world now. With a new god. So, Inquisitor. How will this go?”

            Grinning, I pulled out the rune Dagna had created, pouring power into it. “Abra-fucking-kadabra.”

            Samson screamed and collapsed, the power pulsing from his armour vanishing with a crack of energy. “What did you do?” he shouted, sounding panicked. “What did you do? The lyrium – I need it! Kill them all!”

            It was a hard fight all the same, even with Samson clearly struggling with the fact his armour was fucked. The guy was still fast as a bastard and hit like a truck, never mind the handful of red templars he had backing him up.

            We won eventually, in any case. That’s all that matters, in the end.

Chapter Text

“Remind me when we get back that I need to give Dagna a pay raise,” I said, one hand pressed to my chest as I struggled to get my breath back. “Holy shit, is he still alive?”

            “Looks like it,” Bull said, prodding at Samson with his toe and eliciting a weak groan in response.

            “Alright, well. We can take him in, question him, maybe. I don’t know. I’m a bit sick of killing people today, if I’m being honest.” And there was something about the way he’d reacted to the news about Maddox, something about it just made him feel too human. He was down, severely injured, no threat to anyone by then. The idea of putting a blade into him in that moment made me feel ill. Pathetic, but true.

            “I got him.” Bull grabbed Samson by the collar, dragging him towards us like a sack of spuds.

            “Okay, so let’s… Abelas?”

            The elf sprinted through the little reflecting pool area we were in, wild-eyed, with bird-Morrigan chasing him down as he manifested a set of steps and charged up them. I sighed and went after them, hoping to prevent another diplomatic incident. Catching up to them at the top, I found Morrigan physically blocking Abelas from reaching the Well, which turned out to be an innocuous-looking ornamental pond.

            “Morrigan…”

            “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor! The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!”

            Abelas backed away, looking between us like a cornered animal as he bitterly said, “So, the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

            They argued back and forth for a while, on the merits of destroying versus saving the Well. I could hardly hear them. Now I was right up close to the thing, the water seemed to be whispering to me. Just a low susurrus, too soft to make out any words, but giving off the feeling it was beckoning to me. Solas joined in the argument, and I finally zoned back in to hear Morrigan’s next words.

            “The moment we leave, Corypheus will send more forces to secure this place!” She rounded on me. “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

            “Do you even know what you ask?” Abelas demanded. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on… through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

            “I’m sorry,” I said. “But either way, whether you destroy it or I drink from it, things will change today, won’t they? At least this way something might survive.” I couldn’t stop looking aside, into the Well, trying to make out what it was saying.

            “Perhaps,” he said. “Though where we may go…”

            “There are other places, friend,” Solas piped up. “Other duties. Your people yet linger.”

            “Elvhen such as you?” Abelas said witheringly.

            “Yes,” Solas said, “such as I.”

            They stared at each other, something seeming to pass between them. I barely noticed, since I was pretty sure I’d just heard the Well say my name. Not that weird, maybe, given it was probably just saying ‘mine’ or whatever, but still, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Abelas looked from Solas to me and sighed.

            “You have shown respect to Mythal. And there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir’abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

            “Yes.” I tried to maintain eye contact with him, but my gaze kept straying to the surface of the Well, glass-smooth and dark. “I think… Yes.”

            Abelas cocked his head, eyeing me intently. Finally, he nodded once, turned, and began to walk away, pausing to add, “Know you this… if you partake of the Well, you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

            “Bound?” Morrigan said mockingly. “To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?”

            “Bound as we are bound,” he said, speaking directly to me. “The choice is yours.”

            “Could Mythal still exist, somehow?” I asked. “Just so I know what to expect, you know.”

            “Anything is possible.”

            “Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and banished to the Beyond,” Morrigan said.

            “Elven legend is wrong.” I couldn’t help noticing the difference in the way he spoke to me as opposed to Morrigan – almost pleasant versus barely tolerant. I liked her well enough, but it was still quite funny. “The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

            “Murder?” Morrigan and I said together.

            “She was slain, if a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir’abelasan remains. As do we. That is something.”

            “You could always join up with the Inquisition,” I offered. “I don’t want to sound patronising or whatever, but like, if you’re leaving this place and you’ve got nowhere else to go, we’d be more than happy to have you. I would be.”

            “A shemlen organisation?” When he saw me flinch, he dialled back the disgust a little. “No, child. We will seek places the shemlen have not yet touched. It may be that only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken.”

            “Good luck, either way,” I said. “And if you change your mind –”

            “I will not. But… I thank you, all the same.” Abelas turned to walk away, pausing for a moment as Solas said something to him in elven. Then he nodded, and strode off without a backwards glance.

            “His name,” Solas explained. “Abelas means sorrow. I said I hoped he found a new name.”

            “A man called sorrow,” I said softly. “Poor sod was set up to fail.”

            “You’ll note the intact eluvian,” Morrigan sighed. “I was correct on that count, at least.”

            “Is that something we still need to be worried about?” I asked. “Could Corypheus use it to get into the Fade?”

            “You recall I said each eluvian requires a key? The Well is the key. Take its power, and Mythal’s last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.”

            “Cool, chug chug.” I made to walk into the Well, only for Morrigan to yank me back, looking astonished.

            She tried to talk me out of it, said she was more expendable, had more experience with weird old shit, she got into a fight with Solas over who was more entitled to drink from it and who wasn’t. Bull and Cole both got their opinions in. I hardly heard any of it. All I heard was that glass-smooth pond whispering, louder and louder, without ever becoming clearer.

            “All good points,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

            “After all that,” Morrigan said incredulously, “you still –”

            “We’ll still appreciate your input on matters arcane,” I said, stepping deeper. “But this is for me.”

            I stepped out into the water, power beginning to spiral around me, the whispers rising, seeping inside my brain. I took a sip of the cool water, the fear of stuff like listeria and diphtheria and mosquito larvae briefly fleeting through my mind, and there was a moment where nothing happened. I looked up at the others.

            “Uh. I think I did it wrong.”

            Then the power surged towards me, pulling me under the surface and turning the world dark.

*

                        I woke up in some sort of shadowy liminal space, wisps of fog and power drifting around me. The whispers were there, too, louder.

            “Garas quenathra?” It was elven, but translated itself even as the words slipped through my ears. “Why have you come here?”

            “I, uh…” I licked my lips. “Hi, I’m Emma. Emma Morgan. The Inquisitor.”

            “Emmaera?”

            “Uh, sure. Listen, I need the power of the Well. There’s someone coming, a right horrible bastard, who’ll use your power to end the world. Give it to me instead, and I swear I'll use it to stop him. Um. Please?”

            “Vir Mythal’enaste.”

            The whispers rushed at me, the power closing over my head and seeming to fill my lungs like water. I staggered, gasping for air, the voices in my head rising to such a pitch it felt like my skull was about to burst open.

            Then everything went dark and quiet again.

*

                        “Da’len? Emma!”

            I opened my eyes, immediately regretting it when the light fried my retinas. Solas had me by the shoulders, looking frantic. I’d never have said it to him, but the way the sun was glinting off his head was doing my stinging eyes absolutely no favours. When he saw I was awake he helped me to my feet, steadying me when I stumbled.

            “How do you feel?” he asked gently.

            How did I feel? Dizzy and weird, mostly. I had the flu once, had it bad, spent days hallucinating that there was a dragon crawling around on my ceiling as I sweated out every drop of moisture in me. When my fever finally dropped enough to allow me to start moving around again, the world felt the same way it did post-Well – like there was a layer of faceted crystal between me and the rest of the world, while the inside of my head was insulated by a layer of cotton wool.

            The Well was empty (where had all that water gone? Was it in me now? Had it actually been magic all along, not water?), but tendrils of power remained, rising from the tiles to twine around my legs, like clinging vines or cats looking for treats. I laughed softly, until the whispers took on a warning tone, seeming like they were trying to pull me around to face the door we’d entered through… just in time to see Corypheus march in. I heard him yell, and then the guy straight up started flying towards us.

            “Shit shit shit –”

            “The eluvian!” Morrigan yelled, slapping my shoulder.

            “Right, right.” I spun towards the eluvian, feeling the power of the Well bubble up inside me. It was different to the swirling energy of my regular magic, or the stinging crackle of the Anchor. Subtler, and in some indefinable way, sadder. The eluvian began glowing blue, and I frantically waved the others towards it. “Everyone, go, now!”

            Everyone went, Bull still dragging Samson along as some sort of reflex. I stayed behind to make sure the others made it through safely, going last in case the thing stopped working once I was through. I hung back long enough to watch more water bubble out of the tiles, forming a swirling vortex with the figure of a woman, glowing blue, in its centre. We looked at each other, me and the shiny lady, and she gestured towards the mirror. Into it I went.

            There was a moment of bewildering weightlessness, and then I was slamming facedown into the carpet of the eluvian room back at Skyhold. I rolled onto my back, quickly took stock of the others lying around me to make sure everyone else had made it. Then I laughed.

            “That was faster than the outbound trip,” I said. “Let’s pick up a portable one of these things and do this every time.” No one laughed, and I sighed. “I’m wasted in this place.”

Chapter Text

Nobody was especially pleased with my decision to drink from the Well. Morrigan outright refused to so much as speak to me at first. I even bumped into Kieran in the garden the day after we got back and asked him if she was alright, only for him to give me a wide-eyed look and say, “Mother said I should come up with an excuse if you asked to see her.”

            I couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, little man, if she ever asks, I’ll tell her you came up with a very convincing excuse. Sound good?” He nodded, and I nodded back. “Okay then. Where are you off to?”

            “To see Cole.”

            “That’s a long way to go alone, and I was heading out there myself. Mind if we walk together?”

            “Alright.” We set off, him thoughtfully quiet, me just being my normal level of awkward around kids. “Cole says you’re his mother now. Does that mean you’ll teach him things you learn from the Well?”

            “Your mam told you about the Well business, did she? Yeah, if Cole wants to know anything, I’ll gladly share it with him. Though he’s generally not interested in magic stuff, and he knows more than I do, a lot of the time. You know, being a spirit and all. Does your mother teach you about magic?”

            “Sometimes. And she helps me with my bad dreams.”

            “Ah, you have nightmares too, do you?”

            He nodded solemnly. “Mother says I might be a mage too, so I need to know about magic. But sometimes she teaches me about history and things instead. My favourite is elven history.” He said that last part shyly, looking up at me like he wasn’t sure how I’d respond.

            “It’s my favourite too,” I said, making him smile. “And you know what, if I learn anything especially interesting about elven history from the Well, I’ll tell you about it too. Sound good?”

            “Yes please,” he said, nodding fervently.

            We’d reached the tavern by then, and I gestured to the stairs. “You go ahead, little man. I’ll see you later.” Kieran scampered off, and I headed into the back, where Bull was sitting alone – Krem and the rest of the Chargers were still down in the Arbor Wilds, of course, along with everyone else who hadn’t gotten home by way of an eluvian. “Hi, Bull.”

            “Boss,” he said, a little reserved, a little cautious. “How you doing?”

            “Still me, if that’s what you’re asking,” I sighed. “One of us had to do it, Bull. If we’d left it there, Corypheus would have got it, and we’d have been left up shit creek.” I looked down at my hand, the green veins covering my hand and straggling their way up over my wrist. “I’ve already got this thing, and I’m already piloting a body that isn’t mine. I suppose I just thought, why not throw another bit of weirdness on the pile, you know?”

            Thankfully, that got him to relax a little. “Yeah, I get it. Just… warn me if you’re about to start blasting away with weird magic, alright?”

            “Of course.”

            He nodded. “Solas came in here earlier looking for you, by the way.”

            “Shit. I’m off to get scolded then. If you see Cole, tell him I said hi.”

            “Will do.”

            I found Solas in the rotunda, hunched over a fan of notes on his desk. Once he realised I was there he stood up, staring silently at me. I smiled and gestured towards the in-progress fresco.

            “Making a start on the Well panel? Looks good so far!”

            “What were you thinking?” Oh Christ, this was worse than being shouted at. He was quiet, but in a way that clearly said he was seething. If he hit me with the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ I’d probably cry. “You delivered yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!”

            “I was thinking it was better for me to have that power than a megalomaniacal dickhead, or someone who could walk out on us whenever she fancied,” I said, fighting to sound calm. “I was thinking Abelas had just said that Mythal was murdered, meaning she wasn’t that great a threat to me these days.”

            He shook his head, looking genuinely distraught as he whispered, “You are her creature now.”

            “I’m my own bloody creature, alright, no dead god is taking that from me!”

            “You might not have a choice in the matter.”

            “Maybe I never did.” I sighed when he frowned at me. “The Well was calling to me, Solas. As soon as I got near it, it was like it wanted me to drink from it. I couldn’t have just stood back and let the power go to someone else. It… it’s like it was meant for me.” I shook my head impatiently. “I can’t explain it in words, it’s all a bit Junji Ito.”

            “I think you’ve done well enough.” He came around the desk and, to my surprise, hugged me. I reciprocated after a few stunned seconds. “I’m sorry for being angry with you, da’len. Perhaps… You have assimilated the Anchor in a way I would never have expected, and that is a magic at least as old as the Well. It is possible the two called to each other.” He stepped back, briefly placing a hand on my cheek. “Either way, you are correct. Better the power is in our grasp than lost forever.”

            “Besides, being bound to a dead lady can’t be too bad, can it?” I chewed my thumbnail. “At least, no worse than when Cass finds out about the Well.”

            “I sent a bird to the front concerning the matter not long after our return.” Solas picked up his palette and trowel and went back to work on the fresco. “So they would know where we had gone. I received several responses.” He gave me a thin smile. “Perhaps you would prefer to be sitting down when you read them?”

*

                        The team trickled back in over the coming days. While a large portion of our forces would be in the Wilds a lot longer, mobilising so many people over such a large distance being no easy feat (not to mention all the rooting out of Corypheus’ surviving army and securing of the temple they were doing), our core group were able to move faster and get home sooner. And everyone was super angry with me.

            Sera beat the rest of them by going so far as to pull a bow on me until I proved I was really myself (I think the “sweet Jesus fuck, what are you doing?” did a lot to win her over). Blackwall told me he wasn’t angry, he was just disappointed (oof, ouch, my feelings) then segued into talking about a dog he saw being hanged once, which, like, great stuff as ever. Cassandra opened by saying she was at a loss for words, before shouting at me for a solid forty minutes, while Dorian cuttingly asked if I was often in the habit of slurping pondwater, and Josephine politely requested I keep the Well thing as quiet as I could for fear of driving away allies. Leliana and Varric were relatively chill, at least, and Vivienne just talked ominously about power in a way that suggested she was on board.

            It was Cullen who I was most worried about. He was coming on leaps and bounds with his issues over magic, but I thought my having chugged an ancient God Pond was probably a little beyond the pale. As soon as I heard he was back I hurried to the armoury, where I found him yelling at Cassandra. For a horrible moment I was sure I must be the cause, especially since as soon as he realised I was there, he walked out.

            “Was that… I mean, is he angry with me, about the Well?” I asked her hesitantly.

            Cassandra smiled a little. “Possibly, though that is not what we were discussing. And I do not doubt any upset your actions may have caused could be smoothed over with a little reassurance.”

            “Spoken like a true romance novel fan.”

            She barked a laugh, shaking her head. “Cullen has told you he is no longer taking lyrium, I assume.”

            “Yeah. I wasn’t best pleased about the ‘might die’ thing, but he made a good case for staying off the stuff.”

            “I also feel it is a good idea. Not that he’s willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.”

            “He what?” I shook my head. “Nah, Cass, he just organised a full-scale mobilisation of our fighting forces, how can he think –”

            “I believe the strain of that mobilisation might have prompted our discussion.” She rested a hand on my upper arm. “I declined, in any case. It is not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

            “I’ll talk to him,” I said. The words ‘it would destroy him’ had sent chills all through me, my stomach twisting itself into a knot. “Try to bring him around.”

            “If anyone can do so, it’s you,” Cassandra sighed. “Mages have made their suffering known, but templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself – and anyone who would follow suit – that it’s possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall.” She squeezed my arm again. “Talk to him, my friend. Decide if now is the time.”

            I went bird on my way to his office, both to get there faster and to make sure nobody stopped me for some other issue along the way. Landing on the battlements I quickly turned back and stepped into his office, then ducked aside as Cullen’s old lyrium kit smashed against the wall beside my head.

            “Jesus, Cull!”

            “Maker’s breath!” he cried, horrified. “I didn’t hear you enter!” Then, softer and sadder, “Forgive me.”

            “Funny, I was about to say the same thing.” I offered him a somewhat feeble attempt at a smile as he gave me a quizzical look. “I mean, I drank some ancient magic, and then used another piece of ancient magic to abandon everyone in the south. Wouldn’t say it’s my proudest moment.”

            Cullen looked genuinely surprised. “You made the best choices available to you, Emma, I would never –” Taking a step towards me, he broke off with a groan as he stumbled and had to catch himself on his desk. I moved towards him, but he warded me off with an outstretched hand. “I never meant for this to interfere.”

            “It’s not interfering, Cullen. I get that you’re not feeling well, and I’m sorry about that, really, but you’ve been doing so –”

            “Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “What I told you before, about my time in Kinloch Hold, the abominations. I wasn’t just held and tortured. The other templars – my friends – were slaughtered. I had to watch, to listen, I… I was the only one left, by the time the Wardens intervened. They tried to break my mind, made me see… Used my own infatuation against me, it… How can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my knight-commander, and for what, hm? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

            There was this look in his eyes, distant and haunted, like he was seeing something other than me and his office. I was hit with the sudden strong suspicion that at least part of the torture he’d been through back then had involved denying him access to lyrium.

            “Cullen,” I said gently, “of course I underst –”

            “Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done! I thought this way would be better, that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me. How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry! I should be taking it!”

            He’d been pacing back and forth, getting more wound up with every word, until he punctuated this last by punching the bookcase beside me. I couldn’t help flinching aside, and the stricken look on his face in response just about broke my heart.

            “Emma,” he whispered, pulling his hand back slowly, “Emma, I would never –”

            “I know.” I grabbed his hand before he could retract it completely, placing a light kiss on his knuckles. “I know, Cullen, it’s alright, it was automatic, I know you’d never hurt me. Listen, forget about the Inquisition, forget the Chantry. Forget about everything but you. And maybe me, being a bit selfish.” That managed to get a smile out of him, faint and wan as it was. “What do you want?”

            He sighed. “I don’t want to take it,” he admitted in a whisper. “But… these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this…”

            I wrapped my arms around him. After a pause he hugged me back, resting his chin on top of my head with a sigh. “I believe in you,” I said against his chest. “I believe you can do this.”

            “Alright.” He kissed the top of my head and stepped back, trying to extricate himself as gently as possible. As much as I didn’t want to, I realised he needed some time to himself, so I let him go and headed for the door.

            “Just to make sure,” I said, pausing in the doorway, “you’re really not upset about the Well of Sorrows thing?”

            Cullen smiled, tired but genuine. “While I have my concerns for your wellbeing, that is concern for you, not fear of you, don’t worry. Besides, I’d have expected nothing less from you. Always extraordinary.”

            “Cool. Oh, and uh, I judged Samson while we were waiting for everyone else to get back. I decided to let him live out what time he’s got left, and have him work with you, giving you information on red templar stuff. Hope that’s alright?”

            “Something to look forward to, at least,” he said, with such cutting sarcasm I finally felt safe leaving him alone.

            Flipping myself over the wall outside, I landed on the ground near the little market, and had barely picked myself up before Sera was in front of me, wringing her hands. “What’s up?” I asked as I dusted myself off.

            “I think Blackwall’s gone and done something stupid.”

Chapter Text

Leliana already had enough information to send us chasing off after Blackwall, who was apparently bound for Val Royeaux. Me, Bull, Varric, Dorian, Sera, and Cole, a party large enough to take on any bandits who tried their luck, but small enough to travel quickly. Even so, we didn’t manage to catch up to him along the way, and on arriving in the city realised our job was ten times harder than expected, because there was some sort of event going on that was drawing a massive crowd.

            “Is the circus in town or something?” I hopped a few times, trying to see over the heads of the people around me. “Stupid tiny legs. Wish they’d let me bring Cary Elkwes into the city proper.”

            “Up there,” Bull said, “the gallows.”

            Oh, that sounded ominous. “Think you can get us closer, Bull?”

            “On it, Boss.”

            Bull began to wade through the crowd. He hardly even had to push people, his sheer presence seemed to be enough to send them scuttling aside. The rest of us stuck close behind him, slipping into the gap he’d made before the crowd closed back in. Once we made it to the front he reached back, pulling me, Varric, and Cole around in front of him one by one. Sera and Dorian flanked us, all looking up at the men on the gallows – a hangman, a dude in armour, and a sweating, wild-eyed man who could only have been the guy there to be hanged, Mornay.

            “That’s him, right?” Sera said. “The one from the announcement?”

            “That’s him.” I looked around as best I could, trying to catch a glimpse of Blackwall through the crowd.

            “Who is this man to Blackwall?” Dorian absent-mindedly jammed his elbow into the neck of someone who was trying to push past him. “A friend? A brother?”

            “They’re going to kill him!” Cold said, horrified.

            “Good grasp of the obvious, Cole,” Dorian snorted.

            I shook my head as the hangman placed the noose around Mornay’s neck. “Not sure I’ll be able to watch this, lads. Hanging’s a nasty way to go.”

            “Want me to cover your eyes, Boss?” Bull sounded like he was only half joking.

            “Aye, you get mine and I’ll cover Cole’s.”

            “Proceed!” said the… I don’t know what the armoured guy’s job title would be, hanging announcer, maybe? Whatever he was, before the lever could be thrown a voice snapped out from the crowd.

            “Wait!”

            The Orlesians reacted like they were watching a play, gasping and ‘ooh’ing as Blackwall marched up the steps to the platform. “A Grey Warden!” the announcer declared, sounding as surprised as I was. Had Blackwall shown up to offer to conscript the guy or something?

            “This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him,” Blackwall said, rather than anything I might have expected. “Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake!”

            “Then find me the man that gave the order,” the announcer snapped back.

            Blackwall looked out at the crowd, seemingly considering something, and I saw the moment his eyes lit on Bull, before sliding across each of us in turn until he was looking at me. His expression was briefly pained, but then his jaw set. That look of determination on his face, under the circumstances, worried me.

            “Blackwall?”

            “No. I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.”

            “You,” Mornay burst out suddenly, astonished, “after all this time.”

            “It’s over,” Blackwall said. “I’m done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier.”

            The name meant nothing to me, but the Orlesians reacted with melodramatic horror, shouting and even spitting at Blackwall as he was marched off towards the jail. I’m pretty sure someone actually swooned. Sera made to charge after him immediately, but I grabbed her arm, holding her back.

            “Let’s stick together,” I said. “I want to do a bit more information gathering before we go wading in.” I went up to the edge of the gallows, which was easier now the crowd was dispersing (all save the swooners, of course), and tapped on the wood to get the attention of the announcer. “Excuse me? I’m Emma, Emma Morgan, the Inquisitor. That man, uh, Thom Rainier? What were his crimes?”

            “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, my lady,” the guy said, sounding surprised. “He was responsible for the assassination of Vincent Callier, his wife and four children, and all their servants and retainers.”

            “I see.” My voice came out astonishingly reasonable, given how hard my stomach had just dropped. “He’s been taken to the jail?”

            “Yes, my lady. If you have anything to say to him, I recommend you say it now.”

            “It can’t actually be Blackwall,” Sera said as we walked away. “It can’t be! He’s got to be… covering for someone, something like that, right? He can’t be the one who did all that!”

            I turned to Cole. “Baby Bird, if anyone’s going to know…”

            Cole was wringing his hands, head down so his hat completely hid his face. “I don’t like sharing people’s secrets.”

            “Oh pissflaps.” Sera clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “That’s a yes, innit?”

            “That is… quite the crime,” Varric said.

            Wasn’t it just. I couldn’t really judge him for killing Callier. We’d all killed people. The servants and the wife were less forgivable, but potentially explainable, maybe collateral damage, maybe his soldiers getting out of control and using unnecessary force on people trying to defend Callier – after all, most people involved in the Game were taught some level of self-defence, and were usually carrying hidden daggers or poisoned hair pins or something.

            But four kids. The deaths of four children.

            “I have to talk to him,” I said.

            “Don’t know that they’ll just let us stroll into the jail, Boss.”

            “They’ll let me.” I pulled off my left glove and set off towards the jail. “I’ll pull the Inquisitor card.”

            “Are you sure you want answers on this one?” Dorian asked, jogging a few steps so he could speak directly into my ear. “Perhaps it might be cleaner to simply cut ties and walk away now.”

            “He’s a friend, Dee,” I said. “I don’t have many. I can’t afford to throw any of you away.”

            Sighing, he patted me on the back and elected not to argue any further. We reached the jail, and as expected the others were ordered to wait outside, while Glowhand McGee was waved through with markedly less fawning than usual, down a flight of stairs into a dungeon. Blackwall was in a cell on his own at the far end, sitting on a bunk with his head down and his hands clasped in front of him.

            “I know Blackwall must have been a real person, at some point,” I said, when it seemed like he was going to ignore me. “I’ve seen records, there were plaques dedicated to him in the Winter Palace. Did you murder him too?”

            “I didn’t take his life. I traded his death.” He went on to explain how it had all happened, speaking in a flat monotone, as if he was already dead. Being conscripted by the real Blackwall while on the run after his crime, a darkspawn attack on the way to Weisshaupt that ended with one man dead and one alive, his decision that Blackwall should be the one who survived instead of Rainier, and finally the reason we were there that day. He’d decided that the real Blackwall wouldn’t have let Mornay die in his place.

            “So you’ve just been lying this whole time then,” I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice with little success. Was I more hurt or angry? Even I didn’t know. “I came to Thedas with nobody, and I thought I’d made some friends. Good friends, ‘we’d give our lives for each other’ sort of friends, which like, I didn’t even have that back home. I'd have taken a blade for you. I really would. And then it turns out that the whole time you’ve just been some lying fucking child-murderer.” I slammed my hand against the bars. “Fucking look at me! I actually cared about you. I’ve never had an uncle before, and I think that’s how I saw you. Someone I could count on. Someone who had my back. And the whole time, you were keeping something like this from me.”

            “Yes.” He didn’t look hurt or surprised by my outburst. It was as if that was what he’d been expecting when I came down there, like that was what he wanted from me. When he spoke, his voice was still that eerie, emotionless monotone. “That’s what I am. A murderer. A traitor. A monster.”

            I shook my head. Part of me wanted to keep shouting, to keep throwing insult after insult at him. But I could see it wouldn’t do any good. It probably wouldn’t even make me feel any better.

            “How did it happen?” I asked, quieter. “I’m assuming you didn’t just wake up one day with the hankering to end a family line?”

            “For gold,” he said sadly. “All for gold. The man was General Vincent Callier. My employer was a chevalier, Robert Chapuis. Ser Robert believed Grand Duke Gaspard was the rightful ruler of Orlais, and would eventually take the throne. He thought that by eliminating one of Celene’s loyal supporters, he might endear himself to the true emperor. I can’t say if Robert’s plan would have worked. I didn’t care. There was good coin offered, and I took it. By the time Ser Robert’s involvement was uncovered, I was long gone. Of course, the Grand Duke disavowed any knowledge of the act, and publicly condemned it. Robert killed himself. Poison in his wine. Another victim of the Great Game.”

            “And gold was enough to buy the lives of children?”

            “I didn’t know they’d be there!” He finally showed a bit of life, a bit of emotion, as he looked up at me for the first time. “I assumed there would be only soldiers! Armed guards. My men had been told to eliminate everyone. They’d seen war. They thought they were defending their country. No one likes to think about it, but it’s names that carry power in this world. Bloodlines. Heirs. No matter how leaders like Celene and Gaspard pretend the Game is played, that’s how real war is waged.”

            “That’s monstrous,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, nor to listen to anything else he had to say on the matter. I just turned and walked back outside.

            “Is he alright?” Sera asked as soon as I came into view.

            I told them what he’d said, as best I could. Silence followed. Even Sera had nothing to say, no snarky comments from Varric or Dorian. We all just stood there in stunned silence, trying to process things. I felt sick.

            But at the same time, the memory of my first conversation with Hawke came to mind, questions of how she could possibly have forgiven Anders for blowing up a decent chunk of a city. How many people had Anders killed? How many mages had Cullen killed, or made Tranquil, or looked the other way from while they’d been abused? What sort of person was I, if I could forgive… No, not forgive. Never forgive, not any of it. But who was I, if I could move past the murder of children because the person who murdered them happened to be my friend?

            “If someone I cared about blew up part of a city over something they believed in, I’d let them off with a stern talking to.” Wasn’t that basically what I’d said? Technically he’d killed them for gold, but he’d also killed far fewer people than if he’d blown up half a city. God, I’d really bought trouble for myself when I said that, hadn’t I?

            “We’ve got to get him back to Skyhold,” I said, immediately bracing myself for being shouted at.

            Instead, Sera said, “Damn straight.”

            Varric let out a long, long sigh, and said, “I always end up with the loyal-to-the-point-of-stupidity ones, huh?” But he was smiling, so that was probably okay.

            “Mockingbird, mockingbird,” Cole said suddenly, in that tone that meant he was touching something else. He’d done it less since we’d dealt with his templar, but still, every now and then his head would tilt, his eyes would go hazy and distant, and out would come the most unnerving shit you’d ever heard in your life, usually completely unprompted. “Too many voices in the carriage, Maker, they’re young. If I tell my men to stop, they’ll know it was all a lie. Cold, trapped, heart hammering like axes on a carriage door.”

            “Did you know all along?” Dorian asked, curious, not accusatory.

            “It wasn’t my hurt to share. Everyone hides dead things. Everyone pretends. Blackwall wanted to fix it. He made a new him, Blackwall, and killed Rainier. The him he is now, the him that’s our friend, would stand between Rainier and the carriage.”

            “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Creepy.” Sera shuddered theatrically.

            Maybe I’m a soft touch, maybe I’m an idiot, but as soon as I had Cole’s input I made up my mind. “Get a bird off to Leliana, ask for her input as soon as possible,” I told Varric. “I’m going to see if I can talk to Briala, maybe even Celene. See if I can pull some strings.” I rubbed my face. “If anyone’s got any arguments to the contrary, get them in now.”

            They all looked at each other. One by one, I watched them come to an agreement. An agreement with my way of thinking, thankfully. I nodded, and headed off to figure out a way to get hold of the empress, in the final boss of talking to someone’s manager.

*

                        Blackwall wasn’t happy that I busted him out, at least not initially. I ended up facilitating an exchange between Leliana and Briala, where Leliana had found some enemy of Celene’s who Briala wanted questioned and dead more than a man who did some mercenary work a decade ago.

            “Always a pleasure,” Briala had said at the exchange. “Do keep an eye on Rainier, lethallan. And remember,” she squeezed my hand, “you will always have friends in the Imperial Court.”

            “Oh, you’re definitely getting invited into the imperial bedchamber,” Sera whispered in my ear.

            “Now is not the time,” I hissed.

            Blackwall returned to Skyhold in a kind of olde timey prison van. That was good, it gave me time to work through some feelings. It didn’t help that when he was brought before me in the great hall (Josephine had regretfully informed me that part of his release condition was that I had to judge him formally), the first thing he did was have a go at me.

            “Using your political connections to get me released? Trading lives? Your name will forever be linked to mine now. Tainted. The Inquisition along with it.”

            “You’re a friend, Wall,” I said. “You might not value loyalty, but I do.”

            He winced at that. Good. “What now, then? Am I to be jailed here instead? Press-ganged into your service?”

            I shrugged. “You can do whatever you like. I got you out. Your life is yours.”

            “Just like that?” he said disbelievingly. When my only response was to shrug again, he finally softened. “Well then. If my life is my own, I pledge it to the Inquisition freely. If you will have me.”

            “We’ll be glad to. Now go and see Sera. I think she wants to shout at you.”

Chapter Text

While on one of my endless Skyhold wanderings a few days later, I stumbled across something of a weird little meeting. Dorian was hanging out on the battlements with Alexius, Samson, and Crassius Servis, a smuggler we’d brought back from the Western Approach on the way home from Adamant. We actually caught the guy in the middle of writing an application letter to someone back in Tevinter, since he’d apparently seen working with the Venatori as just another job, one that got very out of hand. When we cornered him, he immediately offered to work for us instead. I don’t know, I liked him. He was a bit of a bastard, but who among us wasn’t? He’d turned out to be a good smuggler, at least.

All the same, after the Blackwall thing, I’ll admit to feeling the tiniest bit of trepidation when I found my best mate meeting up with two of my high-profile prisoners and a particularly shady smuggler. That mostly vanished when Dorian waved me over cheerfully as soon as he caught sight of me. Besides, I told myself, Samson and Alexius’ respective guards were also lingering nearby, and I didn’t think they’d let any colluding go on under their noses.

            “We were talking about back home,” Dorian said as I got closer.

            “Oh, anything in particular?”

            “Master Pavus has been making a few requests,” Servis said. “Considering my usual runs would see me getting hanged or peeled if I was caught, being asked to haul booze and cheese is actually quite refreshing.”

            “Really?” I laughed. “You’re commissioning our smuggler to procure you some cheese? You know Josie would get you anything you wanted.”

            “The cheese is incidental, I’m more interested in the drink,” Dorian said. “There’s this particular type of absinthe that is… not strictly legal. Frankly, I struggled to reliably get hold of it even when I was back home. Servis promises he can get me a few bottles, which I will of course share.”

            “Neat.”

            “I hope you never imbibed while you were meant to be working for me, Dorian,” Alexius said. “Though it would explain the state of some of the work you turned in.”

            “Oh, and here I thought he was a model student,” I said, grinning.

            “He told you that, I assume?” Alexius sighed. “I won’t deny he was a gifted student, but the boy never applied himself. If there was a shortcut to be taken, he would take it.”

            “I like to think of myself as more… pragmatic,” Dorian said. He was making a good attempt at his usual insouciance, but there was something in the set of his shoulders that made me think of all the times my parents had embarrassed me in front of my friends. I tried not to smile too much.

            “While I've got you, Servis, Leliana mentioned a few things she’d like you to pick up from Nevarra, if you’re heading that way,” I said. “I don’t think it’s anything peel-worthy, just stuff that’s a bit too black market for us to be seen openly picking up.”

            “Ah, my specialty. I’ll consult with Sister Nightingale immediately. Gentlemen, when next I see you, I’ll be bearing gifts. My lady.” He bowed and went on his way.

            “We should probably be off as well,” Dorian nodded to Alexius. “Fiona’s expecting us. Sorry I can’t stop and chat, Em. Meet you in the tavern later?”

            “Yeah, of course. See you in a bit.”

            Dorian patted me on the back, while Alexius settled for a reserved nod. He got on well enough with Dorian, and according to Fiona he was surprisingly pleasant with the mages, seemingly enjoying the chance to teach people. But he clearly didn’t like me, and that didn’t seem set on changing any time soon. Still, he didn’t seem like he was about to try to assassinate me or anything, and what mattered was that he was nice to Dorian. They both seemed to need it.

            “Where were you going when that lot waylaid you?” I asked Samson.

            “To meet with the commander.”

            “Mind some company on the way?” 

            He looked surprised, but covered it quickly. “It’s your house, Inquisitor. You can do what you like.”

            “All the same, I’m not going to inflict myself on someone who doesn’t want me around.”

            “Well, can’t say I’m looking to turn down the chance to chat.” He jerked his head towards his guards, both of whom were silent and scowling. “Not great conversationalists, I’m afraid, and the commander isn’t one for small talk. Not with me, at least.”

            We set off along the battlements, the guards following a few feet behind. “Were you asking Servis for anything?”

            “Actually, I was talking about Tevinter with your magisters, Servis turned up shortly before yourself. Talking about the templars, specifically.”

            I looked up at him. “They don’t use lyrium up there, do they? Dorian told me that, said the mages use so much of it there’s none left for anyone else.”

            “Apparently so. Can’t help but wonder what life would have been like, if I’d been a templar up there, rather than Kirkwall. If I’d been allowed to just… deal with the mages that needed dealing with, and worked alongside the rest. No making people Tranquil for petty reasons. No lyrium. I might have been a better man.” He sounded sad. So unutterably sad.

            “Have you… I mean, we’ve got plenty of lyrium to go around here, if… Sorry, I didn’t check whether…”

            “It would be wasted on me.” The whites of his eyes had gone a horrible, vivid red that seemed to be worse every time I saw him, and according to the mage healers who’d gotten a look at him (and also Dagna, who’d been delighted to get a chance to poke and prod at the guy) he was very much living on borrowed time.

            “You could at least be comfortable,” I said quietly.

            Samson stopped suddenly, looking down at me. One of the guards made a sharp move towards us, but I waved him back. Samson was handcuffed, and didn’t seem to be showing any aggression besides, just staring at me.

            “Why didn’t you just kill me?” he asked. His tone was hard to gauge, somewhere between frustration and genuine curiosity. “Out there in the temple, or else some grand execution after a show trial. There aren’t enough of my boys left out there to warrant the hassle of keeping me alive, surely?”

            “Maddox,” I admitted with a sigh.

            Samson’s jaw clenched. “What about him?”

            “Look, I’ve read Varric’s book, and Cullen’s told me some things.” I stepped closer to him, lowering my voice, wishing the guards would back off, or at least stop staring right at us. “I know you got kicked out of the templars for smuggling love letters for Maddox. The fact you got him out of Kirkwall alive, kept him with you through everything… then, in the temple, when I told you he was dead, it clearly meant something to you. I don’t know, we couldn’t let Corypheus take you back, but you weren’t dead, and the thought of finishing you off, killing you in cold blood, it… didn’t sit right with me.”

            “Saw me as a person, did you?” he said, with such vicious bitterness I had to look away. “You know all my lads were people too, don’t you? Do you think they wanted to become the monsters that red shit turned them into? They were used up and cast aside by the Order, and Corypheus offered them purpose again.”

            “They could have signed up with the Inquisition instead. They could have tried to help people.”

            “Like the commander?” He snorted derisively. “We signed up with one organisation, swore our lives to it, mostly when we were too young to even understand what it was we were signing up for, and they repaid us with addiction and abandonment. Why would we sign up with another? You slaughtered my boys by the dozen and didn’t think twice, but let me live to salve your own bloody conscience.”

            “And you grew red lyrium in a whole village’s worth of innocent civilians, so don’t try to pull the moral superiority card on me!”

            To my surprise, he responded with a dry little chuckle. Shaking his head, he said, “I really have bollocksed everything up, haven’t I?” He rubbed his eyes with his cuffed hands. “Hope I live long enough to see you fix everything, Inquisitor. And I suppose I should just be glad you didn’t make me a jester, like that Orlesian woman.”

            Yeah, I made Florianne my jester as punishment. Josephine mentioned it as an option before I went up to render judgement, and I almost went headfirst through my little judgement throne in my haste to stick her in motley. Probably worse than just killing her outright, honestly, it might well have been the meanest thing I’d ever done. She wasn’t very good at it, but just seeing her there did make me laugh all the same.

            “You’re making up for it now,” I said. “Giving us information and all. I can’t say it balances out what you’ve done, but it’s better than nothing.”

            “Right. Giving you information that helps you kill my boys,” he said darkly.

            “At this point, killing them seems like a mercy.”

            For a second he looked furious. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe so.”

            I jumped as a door slammed nearby, and suddenly Cullen was striding towards us with a face like thunder. Samson sighed again and mumbled something under his breath.

            “Hi, Cull,” I said, “we were just –”

            “If you’ve laid a hand on her,” Cullen growled, looking very much like he was about to launch Samson straight off the battlements.

            “Whoa, oi,” I slipped around between them, holding up a hand to ward Cullen back. “We were just talking. Look at him, he’s cuffed, he’s guarded, I probably can’t be wounded while we’re on the grounds even if he wasn’t. I met him while I was having a wander and thought I’d walk him to your meeting to see you for a bit, we just stopped to… have a chat, alright, it’s fine. Calm head.”

            Cullen had stopped, thankfully, though there was still a muscle fluttering in his jaw as he glared past me. When I rested a hand on his chest (or, well, breastplate, stupid armour) he finally looked at me, his hand coming up to rest over mine. “He was behind the sacking of Haven, and he tried to kill you at the temple," he said, his voice tight. "That’s two direct attempts on your life, to say nothing of the forces he’s sent after you on other occasions. Forgive me for holding a grudge.”

            “I get it, I do. But we’re not people who brutalise prisoners, are we?”

            He sighed. “No, of course.”

            Samson started laughing at that point. “Oh, this is priceless,” he said when we looked at him. “Knight-Captain Cullen himself having a dalliance with an elven apostate.”

              “No apostates anymore, Samson,” I said.

            “You said you’d read Tethras’ book, right?” he said. “Then you know what your boyfriend there has done, don’t you? Torn people away from their families, branded them as Tranquil, thrown people out of the Order for helping mages contact their lovers, never mind what he’d have done to someone who was the lover of a mage –”

            “And you’ve tried to kill me twice, and yet you’re wandering my house with nothing more than a set of handcuffs and a bodyguard,” I said pointedly.

            All the energy seemed to run out of Samson, and he lowered his head with a shrug. “Be careful, Herald. That soft heart might get you killed.”

            “Is that a threat?” Cullen barked.

            “Just an observation.”

            I sighed, patting Cullen’s chest to get his attention. “If I leave you two to your meeting, do you promise not to punt Samson over the parapet?”

            “For you, I will try to bear it.” He kissed my hand and turned back towards his office, jerking his head for the others to follow him.            

            “Suppose you need that visit to the tavern now,” Samson said as he slouched past.

            “Fuck off, Samson,” I said mildly, making him laugh.

Chapter Text

I arrived in the garden at terminal velocity again a few days later, only to hear a commotion. I was a little concerned it was people attacking Blackwall – I’d made it clear there were to be no reprisals against him, but I’d hardly be the first leader to be ignored in the name of revenge – but before I even had the chance to pick myself up, a frantic Leliana had hold of my arm, shaking it.

            “It’s Kieran, Inquisitor!” she cried. “He somehow activated the eluvian and went through!”

            “He what?”

            “Morrigan ran through after him, she was frantic.” Leliana shook her head. “I’m going for help. Go after her, please.”

            Now, I’m not saying I’m a distrustful person. Far from it. But I was at least mildly worried that I might be walking into a trap at that point. Leliana just happened to be visiting with Morrigan when her son ran away, and now I had to walk through the eluvian alone? I was more than a little suspicious about the whole thing. Still, I thought, at least I was walking into it with my eyes open.

            I was fairly surprised, then, when I stepped through the eluvian into the Fade again (turns out physically walking in the Fade was like waiting for a bus - it had only happened once in recorded history, and then one jackass fell in there three times in the same year. I might have lost the thread of the metaphor there, slightly), only to find Morrigan also there, freaking out as she called for Kieran. “You don’t want to be shouting like that in here,” I said as soon as I got near. “You don’t know what you might attract.”

            “I don’t care!” she snapped. “My son is in here, and I will find him!”

            “Yeah, I get that, I’m here to help you look for him. Just, like, quietly.”

            “You’ll help me search?” She sounded so surprised I was actually a bit offended. “Just like that?”

            “Kieran’s a sweetheart,” I said, “and he’s friends with my boy. We’re not going back without him, you have my word.”

            She looked like she couldn’t speak, only nodding in response. I crouched down to inspect the damp ground – Blackwall had constantly tried to drill basic survivalist techniques into the rest of us, including hunting and tracking. While I’d never had any desire to kill Bambi or Thumper (or their August ram and nug counterparts, and that was certainly a mental image) I was glad he’d bothered right then.

            “This way, come on.”

            We jogged along together, with me occasionally stopping to check for tracks. Finally, we spotted Kieran in the distance… but not alone. A woman stood next to him, maybe in her sixties and sort of regal looking, with an elaborate hairdo that looked a bit like dragon horns and the same yellow eyes as Morrigan. Oh yeah, this was going to be good, I could tell.

            “Mother!” Kieran cried.

            “Mother,” Morrigan said tersely.

            “Now, isn’t this a surprise?” the woman said, sounding amused.

            “I, uh. I feel like I’m intruding,” I said.

            “Not at all,” the woman chuckled. “Any friend of my daughter and grandson is welcome.”

            “Kieran is not your grandson!” Morrigan snapped. “Let him go!”

            This wasn’t great. I was getting flashbacks to my parents’ marriage, not to mention their relationship with both sets of my grandparents. I kept a pleasant smile fixed on my face, and tried to ignore the sweat trickling down my neck.

            “As if I were holding the boy hostage,” Morrigan’s mother said, rolling her eyes at me. “She’s always been ungrateful.”

            “Ungrateful? I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone!” Morrigan was getting really worked up, and I was struggling with the urge to slowly back away. “You will not have me, and you will not have my son!” She raised her arms, gathering magical energy to herself.

            The lady sighed. “Be a good lass and restrain her.”

            Her eyes glowed an eerie blue, she reached out towards me, and suddenly the whispers from the Well – usually no worse than a mild case of tinnitus – became an overwhelming shout. Dozens, hundreds, of voices all saying the same thing over and over. Grab her. Restrain her. Stop her. I thought I might have been able to fight against it, maybe, if I’d been able to expect it was coming. As it was, I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing Morrigan and yanking her back.

            “What are you doing?”

            “I don’t fucking know!”

            “Of course you know,” the lady said. “You drank from the Well, did you not?”

            Morrigan gasped, and stopped struggling immediately. “You… are Mythal.”

            “Mythal?” I said. “Holy shit. Wow. Okay. That’s amazing, uh, well, I’m Emma, Emma Morgan. It’s incredible to meet you, honestly.”

            Morrigan’s mother watched me with a wry smile until she was sure I’d finished rambling like an idiot. Then, “You see that, girl? Manners. And an enthusiasm I’ve never known from you to boot.”

            “You’ll know more from me than enthusiasm if you don’t release my son,” Morrigan snapped.

            “You killed me once already, girl, and see where it got you.” All the same, she patted Kieran on the back, letting him run over to hug his mother.

            “I’m sorry, Mother,” the little guy said sadly. “She was calling me. She said now was the time.”

            “Once I was but a woman,” Morrigan’s mother said, summoning Kieran back to her side. “Crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And then she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more.”

            Things went even more tits up from there.

            Apparently Flemeth, as she was called, had a habit of possessing her daughters, had originally intended on doing the same thing to Morrigan, and had now pivoted to taking Kieran instead. Also, she was a whole person, just with what was left of a murdered elven god also inhabiting her, “no separate than your heart is from your chest”, as she put it. Weird, weird shit. Then Morrigan hit me with the bomb that the reason Kieran was such a little weirdo (said with love) was because she’d somehow managed to trap the soul of the Fifth Blight’s Old God Archdemon inside him. Needless to say, it was a lot of information to try to absorb over a five-minute period. I felt like I should be taking notes or something.

            Finally, Morrigan offered herself up, saying Flemeth could take her over if it meant she wouldn’t take Kieran. I grabbed at her arm and said, “Whoa now, hang on, shouldn’t we maybe –”

            “I’ve made up my mind,” Morrigan snapped. “Just promise me… promise you’ll take Kieran out of here, and make sure he’s taken care of.”

            I wanted to keep arguing, insist we’d all be walking out of there together. But I could see that wouldn’t help, so I just nodded instead. “I’ll raise him like my own. Cole would be glad to have a brother.”

            Flemeth, looking sad, approached the boy instead, and an orb of light transferred itself from him to her. Once the transfer was complete, they both smiled. “No more dreams?” Kieran asked.

            “No more dreams,” Flemeth confirmed. As Kieran trotted back to his mother, she added, “A soul is not forced on the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in any danger from me.”

            “Will you help us?” I asked when it looked like she was going to do a dramatic walk-off. I hated to step on someone's moment, but desperate times and all that. “I mean, you’re a goddess, right, more or less? Is there anything you can do to help us out?”

            Flemeth chuckled, turning back, and I felt the Well stir inside me, seeming to call to her. Her smile fell instantly. Holding out a hand towards me, she said, “Come here, girl. Let me look at you.”

            I did as she asked, and she cupped my cheek, holding my face in place as she stared hard into my eyes. I smiled awkwardly. “Weird eyes, I know. They’re not mine, and apparently they don’t belong to Ellana, the person whose body this originally was, either, so, who knows.”

            Her smile returned. “Pretty eyes, da’len. Pretty eyes. Now – there is an altar deep within a shaded wood. Go to it. Summon the dragon that is its guardian. Master it, and it is yours to command against Corypheus.” She stroked my cheek. “Good luck to you, child of another world. You do the People proud.”

            “Oh, um, I’m not actually –”

            “You are,” Flemeth said firmly, her hand briefly tightening against my cheek. “No more doubts, da’len. You are one of the People.”

            “Well, I suppose if Mythal says so,” I said weakly.

            Flemeth stroked my cheek one more time, before turning and striding away into the Fade. I sidled back over to Morrigan and Kieran, wiping my eyes as surreptitiously as possible.

            “All things considered, Inquisitor,” Morrigan said, “I believe I am glad you were the one who drank from the Well. Spending an eternity bound to the will of my mother does not appeal.”

            I snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine. Come on, let’s go home.” We walked back the way we’d come with Kieran between us, each of us resting a hand on one of his shoulders – Morrigan to reassure herself she really hadn’t lost him, I think, while I was mostly concerned with stopping him from taking off into the Fade again. “Did you really not know? About Mythal?”

            “I did not,” she sighed. “Whatever that means. I used to believe the so-called elven gods were nothing more than glorified rulers, but… now I’m not so sure.” She shook herself, looking down at her son. “How do you feel, little man?”

            “Lonely,” Kieran said. We reached the eluvian and stepped back into Skyhold. “Can I go and see Cole?”

            Morrigan chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Go on. I am sure he will want to hear about all the excitement.”

            “I’d better track Leliana down, stop any panicking,” I said as we watched the little guy take off.

            “Quite. Then you must track down this hidden altar.”

            “I know where it is. In my head, I mean, it’s like the Well is showing me the way. You know when you have to make a trip you’ve done before, you see all the steps you’re going to have to take in your head? I’m getting that, even though I don’t recognise any of the places it’s showing me. Pretty cool. Very weird.”

            “Then I wish you good fortune. I hope this guardian you must face is not too intimidating.”

            “You and me both, sister,” I laughed. “You and me both.”

            “Inquisitor,” she called as I reached the doorway of the eluvian room, making me stop and look back. She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. “Thank you. You searched for my son, and you swore to take care of him without complaint. I will not forget it.”

            “He’s a good kid,” I said with a shrug, wondering if this was her way of saying she really was over my stealing the Well out from under her. “And you’re… you know… a friend. I help my friends.”

            I slipped out before she could answer, because I was afraid she’d say something cutting in reply.

Chapter Text

I stopped the mobilisation of forces that was going on outside the eluvian room before anyone could freak out too hard. It turned out the solid hour we’d spent in the Fade translated to maybe a minute or two in the outside world. Dream logic and all that business.

            From there I went straight to the rotunda and told Solas I’d just met Mythal. He didn’t take the news great, honestly. Shouted, “What?” so loud everyone in the library and rookery leaned over to look down at us. I explained (quietly), and he put his hand over his eyes. “I… I was not aware she… The Mythal?”

            “Apparently. Like I said, it’s like she’s a spirit, only she’s cohabiting rather than possessing someone. From what she said, she’s done it before, over and over, always hooking up with a betrayed woman.”

            Solas sat down heavily with this thousand-yard-stare and said, “Yes. A murdered goddess attaching herself to those she feels a kinship with does make sense.”

            “Oh yeah, loads of sense.” I cocked my head. “Are you alright? Sorry, I know this must be a lot to take in. It was weird enough for me, and you’re more of an elf than I am. Though she did officially give me permission to call myself an elf now, which was nice.”

            “Yes,” Solas said, making an obvious attempt to pull himself together. “That was… kind of her, to set your worries to rest. Did she…” He looked up at me suddenly, eyes wary. “Did she say anything else? To you, not about herself or Morrigan?”

            “She used the Well against me, which was less than fun,” I said. “You might have been right about my chugging that pond being a not-great idea. And she said my eyes were pretty. That’s about it. Why?”

            “No, nothing, I just… I am sorry, da’len, this is… a lot of information to take in.”

            “Yeah, no, I get that. I need to speak to Cullen, anyway, if we’re heading out to this altar. Are you coming? To the altar, I mean.”

            Smiling, he patted my arm. “Of course. And I’m not upset, da’len. Just… shaken. Don’t mind me. Go and speak to Commander Cullen, I will be fine.”

            I was still worried about him, but headed across to Cullen’s office all the same. He was holding a meeting when I slipped in, and while I tried to be unobtrusive when I realised he was busy, he noticed me all the same, stumbling over his words in a way that made me smile. He finished the meeting quickly without once taking his eyes off me, something that very much made my heart go pitter pat, and closed the door after the last person to leave with a sigh, leaning against the wood.

            “Well, that looked like a laugh riot,” I said, grinning.

            He laughed. “The fun never ends.”

            “Not with me around, anyway.”

            “That goes without saying.” Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you, in fact. I… ah. Maybe… Um.”

            “Go on, use your words.”

            He laughed again. “Alright. I have been thinking… This war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now.”

            “Good different, I hope.”

            “Very much so. I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I won’t want to move on… not from you.” He brushed a thumb over my cheek, tracing my vallaslin, only to pull away, suddenly unsure of himself. “But I don’t know what you – that is, if you, uh…” He shook his head and turned away, like he couldn’t bear to look at me while he waited for my response.

            “Seriously?” I snorted. Then I realised that could be misconstrued, especially by someone so unsure of himself (I knew I wouldn’t have taken it well), so I hastily added, “Cullen, come on. All the kissing and the worrying about you, and the… the chess matches…”

            “I also play chess with Dorian.”

            “Yeah, but your chess matches aren’t full of sexual tension.” I paused, thinking. “Are they?”

            Cullen chuckled. “Despite Dorian’s initial hopes, no.”

            “There we are then. I care about you. Really, properly care about you.” I gave an impatient huff. “Alright, there’s some things I’ve always struggled with, uh. I can say it to my friends no problem, weirdly, and my family, because it’s different, but… um…” When he just stood there looking confused (as well he might) I huffed again. “I’m trying to say I love you, is what I’m doing. Because I do. Love you, I mean. But if you –”

            He was kissing me before I even saw him move, spinning me around to push me back against his desk. I heard something break, something glass, and didn’t even have time to worry about whatever it was before he’d swept everything else off the surface and laid me down instead. We were only separated for a few seconds before he climbed on top of me, kissing a path from my collarbone, up my neck and jaw, back to my mouth.

            Everything was… a lot. A whole lot of sensation. His tongue in my mouth and the warm weight of him against me (God help me, I couldn’t stop the phrase ‘sexy weighted blanket’ flashing in my head). He shook his gloves off impatiently, muttering, “Damn things,” which set me giggling, even as he fumbled the buttons of my not-jeans open and slipped his hand inside.

            My giggles broke off into a gasp a second later as he slipped a finger inside me, then another, working them slowly in and out before pressing his thumb against my clit, circling it. It was a great display of manual dexterity, one I knew from past experience that I was incapable of. I pulled him closer, wondering what the hell I was meant to do with his breastplate (medieval world problems, right?).

            “Nearly there,” I whispered, keeping my left hand well out of it while making a token effort at rubbing at him with my right hand. “Nearly, Cullen, won’t be… won’t be long, God, just like that, I’m nearly there…”

            “Are you in a rush?” he said, breathless but amused.

            “Think I’m just used to giving you progress updates.”

            He laughed, breath hot against my neck, and I thought it might very well have been my favourite sound… and then over his shoulder I saw the door to the battlements start to open.

            I slammed it closed again with a burst of magic, warping the wood just enough to keep it shut as I frantically patted a completely oblivious Cullen, hissing, “Walk-in, people, people walking in!”

            Cullen rolled smoothly off me (templar training going to good use) and made for the door. I flopped off the other side with a good deal less grace, desperately willing the redness from my face as I did my not-jeans back up. After a moment of frantic flailing I dropped down and started grabbing up the stuff Cullen had knocked onto the floor.

            “Sorry about that, soldier,” he said as he wrenched the door open, gesturing for the bewildered door-opener to walk through. “It’s, uh, well… Yes, the Well! The Inquisitor experienced a power fluctuation, blew some papers around, slammed the door. Uh. Yes.”

            The soldier looked from Cullen (flushed and flustered) to me (flustered and flushed) and bit back a knowing smile. “I see, Commander. Well. Thank you, for getting the door open.”

            Cullen smiled at me as I went to stand beside him. “I think I covered that well,” he said. I didn’t have the heart to tell him everyone would probably be talking about us within the hour. I also wasn’t going to let the heat we’d built go to waste.

            “We probably shouldn’t be carrying on like that in here,” I said, “given it’s one of the main thoroughfares and all.”

            He sighed. “Probably.”

            Nodding, I leaned in closer, palming at his cock as I whispered, “Then it’s a good job your room’s so close, isn’t it?”

            “Get upstairs,” he growled.

I took off towards the ladder, going bird so I could get up there faster. Cullen was speedy, though, I’d barely struggled out of my waistcoat, shirt, and medieval bra before he was up there with me, dumping his breastplate on the floor too fast for me to see how it worked, so that was no use for next time.

            Before I fully knew what was happening, we were in his bed, both naked, and that’s where Cullen paused. “Is this…” he said hesitantly. “I know you… Is…”

            “I want to,” I whispered. “Just… lie back for a minute.”

            Good lad that he was, he complied without hesitation, watching me with wide eyes as I straddled him and, slowly, carefully, lowered myself onto him, a little at a time. There was the barest hint of a pinch, enough that I thought I'd probably been right in thinking Ellana had been a little less experienced than I was. As I shook my head to clear that thought from it, one of Cullen's hands came up to grip my thigh, while the thumb of his other hand started tracing circles around my clit again.

            “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, his voice tight.

            I could feel how badly he wanted to move, or for me to start moving, the muscles of his chest trembling under my hands. “Give me a second.”

            He nodded, and his head fell back, eyes closed, as I raised and lowered myself, just an inch, with exquisite slowness. I did it a few more times, grinning with an unbecoming smugness as he let out a long, low groan, feeling more satisfied than I’d have admitted with the effect I was having on him.

            After a few minutes of this he managed to look back at me, and on seeing that smirk he let out a huff and sat upright, the hand that had been gripping my leg now flat against my back. “Inquisitor Morgan,” he said softly, “are you taking advantage of my better nature?”

            I couldn’t help laughing. “Maybe.”

            A blur of movement and I was on my back instead, Cullen pressing into me. I let out a gasp, and he froze, suddenly stricken as he said, “Oh, I didn’t –”

            “Good sound,” I said breathlessly. “Good sound, Cullen, very good.” I leaned up to kiss him, then whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, Commander.”

            “As you wish, my lady.”

            Really, he was further above me than I’d have wanted – I’m literally incapable of coming quietly, and given his room was still almost a public place I’d have preferred to have been able to stifle myself on his neck or shoulder. Plus, he had very good shoulders, and I deeply wanted to kiss them, maybe have a little nibble.

            But then I realised he was doing it to watch me. To watch my face, drinking in the pleasure there, to watch what passed for my boobs in that elf body bounce with every thrust, to look down at where we were joined, where he was finally moving inside me, and ridiculously, somehow, that was when it clicked for me.

            “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, pausing, looking troubled again.

            “Yeah,” I said, laughing, tears in my eyes. “I’m fine. I’m me.” When he only looked confused, I leaned up to kiss him again. “I’ll explain later. Words. Don’t stop. Please.”

            “If you’re sure.”

            “Very.”

*

                        We ended up getting a bit carried away. What had been meant to be a quick half-hour… alright, maybe an hour… break turned into the rest of the afternoon, and then most of the night. I woke up beside him the next morning, absolutely freezing. I thought the cold was what had woken me at first, until I realised Cullen was talking in his sleep.

            “Leave me,” he muttered, shaking his head sharply. “No. Leave me!” When I hesitantly reached out to shake his shoulder, he jerked away from me with a gasp, not seeming to realise where he was for a few seconds. Then he blinked at me and smiled. “Morning.”

            “I think you were having a nightmare,” I said, wriggling closer to him in an attempt to steal his body heat.

            “I was,” he sighed. “Always. Without lyrium, they’re worse. I’m sorry I woke you.”

            “You didn’t,” I said, because he looked so troubled I didn’t want to add to it. “It was the cold. We can have someone fix that hole in your ceiling, you know.”

            Cullen chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, where I was resting my head. “Sad to say, it comforts me.”

            “Being this cold all the time comforts you?”

            “Being able to see the sky. There are only those tiny little windows up here, and being able to look up and see the sky outside… It helps prevent me from feeling trapped.”

            “Oh,” I said in a tiny voice. I reached up to run my thumb over that scar on his lip, and he turned his head to kiss my palm. Smiling, I sat up and added, “Well then. Maybe you’d be happier in my room? Half the walls are made up of windows, nice panoramic views of the mountains.”

            “Your room?” He frowned. “But then where would you sleep?”

            “Uh. Also my room.”

            “Oh? Oh!”

            “I know it’s further to commute to your office, and I know it might be moving a bit fast, maybe, but like –”

            Cullen propped himself up on one elbow, caught my face with his other hand, and pulled me into a kiss. “I’d love to. Thank you. With your permission, I’ll move my effects over today.”

            “Of course you have my permission.” I smiled down at him, running my hand over those gorgeous shoulders of his… then grabbed my head as something occurred to me. “Fuck, by the way, the team and I have to head out to the Arbor Wilds to find this dragon that can help us fight Corypheus. And we should probably leave as soon as possible. That was why I came in here yesterday, I, uh. I forgot.”

            Laughing again, he said, “I’m afraid you might have to settle for setting out tomorrow.”

            “Works for me, but don’t tell anyone why we’re leaving late, please.”

            “Your secret is safe with me, my lady.” His hand began to trace lazy circles on my back, making the idea of getting up and starting our days seem extremely unappealing. “By the way – I’ve just realised I didn’t get the chance to say it outright yesterday, given we became… distracted. So allow me to say it now. I love you, too. Frankly, I have never felt like this about anyone.”

            “Neither have I,” I said, curling back up against him. “As terrible as a lot of things have been since coming here, at least it meant we got to meet.”

            “On that note, what happened yesterday? During. You said you’d explain.”

            “Oh, yeah,” I laughed. “Weirdest thing, but there was this moment when we were together where I just… felt right. It’s a whole combination of stuff, of course, I suppose I’ve just been here for a while now, and there was this elven goddess who told me I’m, like, right, in myself –”

            “We’ll be circling back to that, I hope.”

            “—but being with you, it was like… There was no self-consciousness. No second-guessing myself. I felt right. I felt like me, like there was just you and me here, you know? It’s like, this is who I am now, and last night was the first time I really, properly felt it. Sounds a bit stupid now I’ve said it out loud.”

            “You really have to stop calling everything you say stupid, Emma,” he said with a touch of reproach. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all. What matters is you’re happy.”

            “I am,” I said, kissing him. “I really, really am.” When I pulled back, he was smirking. “What?”

            “It’s just gratifying,” he said, endearingly smug, “to know I’m so good at lovemaking I can cure identity crises.” I cackled until he stopped me with a kiss, rolling on top of me with a murmured, “Perhaps we should make sure the revelation sticks?”

            “Better safe than sorry.”

            We had a late start that day, and the first night we spent as roommates was far from restful. Thank God Cary Elkwes was reasonably self-sufficient, because I was far too tired to be controlling a steed when we set out the next day.

            Fucking worth it, though.

Chapter Text

We reached the altar in decent time, mainly because it was barely inside the border of the Arbor Wilds so didn’t necessitate a full march south. I left most of the gang outside the little walled park the altar was set in, only taking Solas, Cole, and Cassandra in with me, since they seemed the ones most likely to respect the site. The place had this peaceful stillness to it that I was reluctant to disturb.

            “Here we are,” I said, looking up at the altar itself, a statue that was part woman, part dragon, set above a little dais with a stone table, all covered in vines and ferns. I let my mind go quiet, focusing on the constant whisper of the Well to find the words I needed. “Okay. ‘We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come. Without mercy, without fear.’ Cheerful.”

            “’Cry havoc in the moonlight’,” Solas said, “’let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear’. A very old invocation, perfectly translated.”

            “A-thank you,” I said with a grin. “Alright, here we go. Flemeth! Mythal! Flemythal! I’m where you wanted me! Send the dragon, let’s see what happens!”

            With a roar, the dragon cruised in over the treetops. She was a bright yellowish-green with darker green markings, and a magnificent crest that swept back into horns that resembled Flemeth’s fancy updo. The dragon landed in the centre of the park, raised her wings, and roared. Cassandra drew her sword, but I put my hand over hers as something turned over inside me.

            “It’s okay,” I said. “I think it’s okay.”

            Cassandra looked doubtful, but Solas and Cole kept her from interfering as I cautiously made my way across that open expanse of grass to the giant lizard that was now watching me impassively. A few of the others appeared in the passage to outside, Bull already hefting his giant axe with a grin, but I waved them back. The whispers were louder again, and they were filling me with an overwhelming sense of calm, of rightness.

            The dragon stood there, placid as an old horse, as I laid my hands over her face and gently ran my fingers over her scales. They were smooth as glass and hot to the touch, and I could feel the flex of her muscles beneath, solid as rock. Our eyes met, and I could see the fierce intelligence in hers, mingled with a sort of recognition. The part of my mind that was whispering to me, telling me to be calm, reached out towards her, and she rumbled in response, a sound almost like a purr but coming from an animal so huge the vibration rattled my ribs. I let out a laugh that bordered on the hysterical, my little Welsh heart happier than I’d ever have dreamed.

            She pushed her head against me for a moment longer, same as Cary Elkwes always did when he wanted scritches, and I eagerly complied, scratching at her scales as best I could. Then, with a gust of wind that knocked me flat, she took off into the sky. I lay there on my back in the grass, laughing, until Solas leaned over me, holding out a hand to help me back to my feet.

            “She’ll come when I call,” I said as Dorian jogged up and began to brush grass from my back, I think to reassure himself I really was in one piece. “Just the once, and only to fight Corypheus, that was the deal. I heard it, before she took off. Not like telepathy, it was like… knowing. Like the knowledge just slid into my brain, as if it was always there. Like I knew it once, but forgot, and then remembered.” I laughed again, pressing both hands into my cheeks. “I just stroked a dragon. A real, live dragon. Holy shit.”

            “I thought I was going to be sick,” Dorian said. He’d finished brushing me off, and hugged me tightly. “I was convinced we were going to have to climb in there after you and pull you out.”

            “Nah, we’re besties, me and my new dragon friend.” I started laughing again. Couldn’t seem to stop.

*

                        We were sat around the campfire that evening, lapsing into silence after discussing the bird Leliana had sent us – we were to continue further south, to the Frostback Basin, where some professor had asked for our assistance with tracking down whatever was left of the previous Inquisitor, a guy who’d apparently disappeared into the place several hundred years ago. So, that was going to be fun, probably.

            Bull was the one who eventually broke that pensive silence, clearing his throat to make sure he had everyone’s attention before he dropped his bomb. “So, Dorian… about last night.”

            My head snapped around so fast it’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck. Dorian was staring at his hands in a desperate attempt to avoid looking anyone in the eye. “Ah,” he said, “discretion isn’t really your strong suit, is it?”

            “You two?” I said, as jazzed as I was confused. “Really? Holy moly, lads, good for you!”

            “Please don’t be patronising,” Dorian sighed.

            “Hey,” I said, hurt, “I was being genuine.”

            Dorian blinked, reaching out to take my hand. “I’m sorry, Emma. Force of habit, I’m afraid. Thank you.”

            “Besides,” Bull laughed, “it’s not like Inquisitor ‘banged Cullen in a common area, screamed so loud people on the battlements heard’ Morgan has a leg to stand on when it comes to making fun of people who bothered to take it to a tent.”

            There was a long, long moment where I couldn’t speak at all, the words getting stuck in my throat. Eventually, I managed a squeaky, “Bull!”

            “Sorry, Boss, I assumed it was common knowledge, what with the screaming and all.”

            “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not that loud!”

            “That’s not what I heard,” Varric said with a smirk.

            Sera was cackling so hard she sounded like she was about to choke on her own tongue. I focused on her, rather than risk looking at any of the responsible adults present (Solas, Cassandra, Blackwall), and said, “Don’t think you’ve got the right to laugh like that, what with you and Dagna.”

            “YOU WHAT?”

            “You think we don’t know about that?” I grinned, warming to the change of target with the ease of an eldest sister. “You think Harritt hasn’t been telling people what he walked in on in the undercroft the other week? You want to keep laughing?”

            “Piss up a rope!” she yelped, before pointing an accusing finger at Blackwall, who immediately went from smiling bemusedly to looking concerned. “Well, what about him and Lady Prissypants exchanging ‘favours’ in the stables?”

            “You don’t need to make it sound so seedy,” he said gruffly. “She gave me a handkerchief as a sign that she forgave me for my… for what I did. That is all.” He gestured towards Cole. “Don’t know why you’re pulling me up for showing some basic courtesy when the lad’s been staring at that bard in the Herald’s Rest like a dog with a bone.”

            “She’s pretty,” Cole said cheerfully, “and her voice makes people happy.”

            “Of course Creepy would have a thing for the creepy bard who came up with that creepy song!” Sera scoffed.

            Which, of course, was the signal for Varric to start loudly singing ‘Sera was never’, the rest of us immediately joining in enthusiastically while she yelled for us to stop. Most of the rest of us, in any case. Cassandra was massaging her temples. Solas looked at least mildly amused, but was probably just because Sera was upset.

            I got a chance to talk to Dorian alone as we all drifted off to bed. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and the Bull? You know everything about me and Cullen.”

            “In fairness, a large part of that is because you seem to be exhibitionists.”

            “Dee, come on. We’re friends.”

            He sighed, briefly resting his head against mine. “You are my friend, yes. I’m sorry. I just… I wouldn’t want anyone to know about this, same as I wouldn’t want anyone to know I fancy Fereldan beer.”

            “Come on, he’s a good bloke. And if you’re into big guys, he’s –”

            “A whole lot of something,” he agreed with a laugh. “At first it was an ill-considered night after drinking, back at Skyhold. Then we were just… keeping each other warm on the road. And then… I don’t know what there is to tell, really. I suspect neither does the Bull. Now I’ve admitted it out loud, my ancestors are officially turning in their graves.”

            “Fuck ‘em,” I said, making him laugh. “Listen, if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you. If anyone tries to give you hassle over it, like real hassle, not teasing, let me know and I’ll, I don’t know, electrocute them or something.”

            “How could I ask for more?” he said fondly.

            My ‘conversation’ on the topic with Bull was just us giving each other a thumbs up and a knowing look. Still, I felt like it got the point across.

Chapter Text

Back down into the Wilds we went, down to the Frostback Basin. Technically it was up into the Basin, too, since the place was right up in the Frostback Mountains. Despite its location, it had the same climate as the Arbor Wilds, warm and humid, and was full of the same enormous trees and fancy ferns and parrot-looking birds that I’d seen on the way to the Temple of Mythal. A beautiful place, though it did leave me gasping for breath. I’d never dealt well with heat, and there was something about the humidity in the Basin that made it extra oppressive. It was like living in soup.

            Harding was, as ever, waiting for me in the little camp the forward forces had set up. Unlike our other primary camps, this one was enclosed within a palisade fence, which I thought was probably a bad sign. Still, Harding seemed chipper as ever as she introduced us to Bram Kenric, a professor from the University of Orlais. He was a handsome human guy in a funny hat with a Starkhaven accent, who very enthusiastically told me the reason he was there was to find the final resting place of the last Inquisitor before me, Ameridan, a guy who’d gone missing 800 years earlier.

            “How much do you know about the last Inquisitor?” Bram asked excitedly.

            “I know he was a dragon hunter, as a sort of hobby, and that he went missing while hunting his last dragon, along with his team. That’s about the extent of my knowledge, honestly. Not for lack of trying, mind you, I’ve read about him, but that seems to be the information that gets repeated the most.”

            “I can get you some more in-depth texts on the subject, if you’re really interested,” Bram said.

            “Ooh, yeah, that would be great!”

            “But right now, Professor, maybe you could fill us in on what we need to know,” Harding said with a smile. “Just so we don’t have to wait while the Inquisitor finishes her reading.”

            “Oh, yes, of course,” he said, looking chastened. “Well, Inquisitor Ameridan stepped down shortly before the Nevarran Accord brought the Seekers of Truth into the Chantry. He hunted demons, dragons, and dangerous apostates in a time before templars even existed.”

            “I’m all for history if it means tracking down the equipment of a famous demon hunter,” Harding put in.

            “Grab some loot, solve a mystery,” I said cheerfully. “That’s almost worth the fact I’m composed primarily of sweat right now.”

            Of course, then it turned out that there was a whole group of locals, Avvar calling themselves the Jaws of Hakkon, who were actively hunting down Inquisition people, because God forbid hostile wildlife and a constant sweatbath would be the worst things out there. Still, there was apparently also a friendly group of Avvar nearby, so after Bram showed us some belt buckles that were apparently very interesting to historians (I made appropriately impressed noises, so he’d think I was cool), the team and I headed out to a little fishing village to make some new friends. Friends who might be able to help us get out to some haunted island that Bram thought could be hiding useful information, or maybe artifacts. If we went all the way out to a haunted island for some more belt buckles…

            “Even when it’s hot I end up slogging through the damp,” Dorian whinged as we made our way through the horrible swamp that stood between the camp and the fishing village.

            “Going around the swamp would add hours to our travel,” Cassandra said in her most no-nonsense of voices. “The horses, and Emma’s steed –”

            “His name’s Cary Elkwes, Cass, show him some respect.”

            “—will be of no use in the Basin. The ground here is too soft, there are too many places for them to come up lame. So we must walk, and we will take the fastest route, whether it be damp or no.”

            “Consider me adequately scolded,” Dorian sighed.

            “You got in trouble,” I whispered in a sing-song voice, leaning close to him so Cassandra wouldn’t overhear.

            Dorian responded by shoving me. I think he just expected me to stumble, but my feet caught in the weeds and I ended up going full length into the water, as above me Dorian let out a yelp of, “Fasta vass, Em, are you made of paper?”

            Bull grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me back to my feet, grinning down at me as I spluttered soggy laughter. “God, I’m never going to dry in this humidity,” I said, squeezing swamp water from my hair.

            “Are you alright?” Cassandra asked, her tone suggesting she was about to announce that if we kept playing up we were going to turn around and go home.

             “Yeah, fine, fine. Just damp.”

            “I see what you meant now,” Sera said as we started trudging onwards again. “Back when you were talking about how many times you’d drowned, I mean. Stuff really does keep happening to you.”

            “I think I’m cursed.” I looked over at Solas. “Is that a thing? Could I be under some sort of watery curse?”

            Solas smiled, shaking his head. “I think it is more likely you are simply… less coordinated than others, and water is less forgiving.”

            Clasping my hands to my chest with a melodramatic gasp, I laughed out, “Such betrayal! How could you, hahren?” He laughed along, but there was something under the surface, almost regret. I nudged him with my wet elbow and said, “Only joking, Solas, it’s fine. I’m aware I’m a clumsy fuck.”

            “Of course, da’len. Don’t mind me.”

             I swore he was getting weirder by the fucking day. Part of me couldn't help feeling guilty about it, thinking maybe I should have just kept the Flemythal stuff to myself. That seemed to have really knocked him. Stupid Emma. 

            A little while later we came within sight of the fishing village we were looking for, which turned out to be less of a village and more a cluster of huts. Two huts, to be precise. There were raised voices as we approached, where a group of people wearing animal skins and a thick layer of body-paint were yelling at a single bald man in animal skins without any body paint. Before I had time to wonder what we’d walked into, one of the painted people caught sight of us.

            “It’s the Inquisitor!” she yelled to the others. “Let her blood bathe the blades of the Jaws of Hakkon!”

            “Fuck’s sake, it’s always something!” I snapped, grabbing Tyrdda’s staff.

            The painted people came at us, while the other guy just watched with his arms folded. Not that we needed his help, it turned out we outnumbered the Hakkon people by a large enough margin that we killed them pretty easily, despite all their fancy glowing weapons. Once we were finished, I headed over to talk to the bald guy, who I assumed was a fisherman. I desperately wished I wasn’t still soaking wet. That couldn’t have been making a good impression.

            I gave him the best smile I could, and said, “Hi there, sorry about all that.”

            “No apology necessary, they were no friends of mine,” he grunted. “You are the lowlander they call Inquisitor? I am Arvid Rolfsen. Your people fought well. The fish will feed on fool’s heart-wine this night. I know not what brings you here, but we have no quarrel, you and I.”

            “You’re not with the Jaws of Hakkon?” I asked, just to be sure.

            “We owe allegiance to Stone-Bear Hold, to the north of here. The Hakkonites are troublemakers. It was a good life here, until they started causing problems. The others are expecting a raid, but…”

            “You don’t think they’ll go as far as that?”

            He snorted. “I think whatever they’re planning is worse, lowlander. I cannot say what it is. Only that it bodes ill, for all of us.”

            “We are here seeking a boat,” Cassandra said, and possibly the heat was getting to her as much as myself, because she sounded like she just wanted to get it done and go home. “To take us to the island in the lake.”

            “The Lady’s Rest?” Arvid said.

            “Is that what it’s called, the island?” I asked.

            “That island belongs to the Lady of the Skies,” he said. “The spirits warn us to leave it be.”

            “Oh, well –”

            “If I give you the boat and you anger the spirits and die, other lowlanders may come for blood.”

            “No no, trust me, if I get myself killed out there, everyone who knows me will know exactly who to blame for it.” I smiled and pointed at myself, but he just kept giving me that same stern look.

            “It is trouble for my hold,” he said firmly, “and not my trouble to take. Go to Stone-Bear Hold and speak with my thane, Svarah Sun-Hair. Get her blessing, and you may sail to Korth’s rocky heart if you wish.”

            Outstanding. God forbid anything ever be simple. Arvid gave us directions to the hold, and off we went. At least the walk was dry, that time. It was quite a nice trip, actually, especially compared to the slog through the swamp. A gently sloping path that led around the side of a mountain, with gorgeous views out over the huge lake that sat at the centre of the basin.

            “Wish Cullen was here,” I said at one point, pausing and looking out at the view.

            “You always wish Cullen was here,” Dorian said.

            “Well, yeah, but especially now. This would be a lovely place for a romantic stroll, right? Oh, yep, there you go, see?” I realised he and Bull were holding hands, something Dorian seemed only a little embarrassed about. “You’re lucky you’re my friends, or I’d be really jealous right now.” Cole slipped to my side and put his hand in mine, and I grinned. “Thanks, Baby Bird. Come on, let’s get to the hold.”

            “He misses you, too,” Cole said as we walked. “Cullen. He looks out at the mountains and thinks about how much he wishes you were there to enjoy the view with him.”

            “Can you feel him at this distance?” I asked, genuinely curious, even as the thought made my chest ache. “Really?”

            “Yes. I can’t read you properly, but his pain touches yours all the same, so I can feel it.” He blinked at me. “Oh, but not real pain. He just misses you.”

            “Thanks for clarifying, little man,” I said, smiling as I leaned under his hat to kiss his cheek. It was something he wouldn’t have thought of, before he became more human. I felt a weird sort of pride as I realised it. “We’ll be back before long. Find some loot, go home, look at the nice view with my boyfriend. Everything will be fine.”

            Still wished he could be there to see that pretty lake with me, all the same.

*

                        When we got to Stone-Bear Hold they were having some sort of event, involving two guys climbing a sheer rock face while what must have been half the village cheered them on, or yelled abuse, just, generally a lot of noise going on. Two people stood on a low stage, a forty-something woman in the same sort of tan furs that Arvid had been wearing, and a tall, broad man wearing the same black and white body-paint as the Hakkonites we’d just fought.

            “This is not my hold, lowlander,” the big man sneered when he noticed me watching him apprehensively. “I will not shed your blood here. You will face the full might of the Jaws of Hakkon soon enough.”

            “I’m shaking,” I said, with all the disdain I could muster, before turning to the woman. “Hi, I’m Emma Morgan, the, uh, lowlander Inquisitor. I’m looking for Thane Svarah Sun-Hair?”

            “I’m the thane here,” the woman said, as I’d expected. “I’ve heard of your arrival, lowlanders. Come, share my fire, where we might speak.” She led us into a cave, the front of which was open enough not to make me feel trapped, with a big firepit in the centre and a throne made of stone and skins with something that looked like a set of shark teeth set above it. Once sat in the throne, she said, “Greetings, Inquisitor! You and your people have guest-welcome here. Your Inquisition has done much to heal the holes in the sky. We are grateful. Your people have come far from the safety of the lowlands.”

            “Yeah,” I said, deciding not to mention that I spent most of my time in the lowlands in mortal peril as well, didn’t want to look contrary and all. “Well, part of why we’re here is to close any of those holes in the sky you have up here, I’ll make sure that’s taken care of before we leave. The other reason we’re here is that the last Inquisitor disappeared here, many years ago now. We’re looking for whatever remains of his we can find, as well as any sign of what might have happened to him.”

            “Giving peace to the dead is a worthy quest,” Svarah said, nodding. “Any help we can offer is yours.”

            “I appreciate that, thank you.”

            “Sadly, the Jaws of Hakkon will not offer so warm a welcome.”

            “Yeah, already had a taste of that,” I snorted. “Something about wanting my blood for the glory of their hold or whatever. What crawled up them and died to get them so riled up, anyway?”

            Cassandra made a disapproving noise, but Svarah chuckled. She went on to explain the Hakkonites’ whole deal, how they were obsessed with the Avvar’s god of war and winter, Hakkon Wintersbreath, to the point where all they cared about was raiding and killing and just generally being dicks. Apparently they weren’t even the first people to have started calling themselves the Jaws of Hakkon, it was just that all the groups who’d previously done the same thing had ended up dying out, you know, because all they did was get into pointless fights constantly.

            The current group, led by the big angry guy I’d met out front, Gurd Harofsen, apparently got that way due to losing the rest of their hold to the blight. Which was sad and all, but given they were killing my people I could only muster up the barest scrap of sympathy. The previous group did much the same as the new ones were doing, by the sounds of it, made themselves a pest to the ‘lowlanders’ and got wiped out as a result. History really was just a circle.

            Unfortunately, as much as Svarah was clearly pissed off with the Hakkonites, she still refused to help us against them. They’d sworn some sort of oath of peace to each other, she said, and that was binding for Avvar. Though she did say their ‘Hold Beast’ (some sort of animal mascot, near as I could tell) had gone missing, and she strongly implied that if we could find this bear, Storvacker, Svarah would be willing to break the oath and fuck up the Hakkonites alongside us.

            “Saving a bear is a bit outside my usual frame of reference, when it comes to bears, but I welcome the change, honestly.”

            “You have fought bears?” Svarah said delightedly. “You lived! Good for you!”

            God, the Hinterlands. Anyway, she also told us we were allowed to borrow a boat from Arvid whenever we fancied, which was nice of her, and we headed out to mingle with the hold, asking around about where that bear might have gotten off to. We split up, to cover more ground, and I ended up paying a visit to the village mage, who they called the Augur, with just Solas and Cole.

            Before I could greet the Augur, a dozen spirits appeared around the edges of the room, all staring at me. “So, she arrives,” the Augur said. “Don’t throng! Behold, worthy ones. The woman who blazes like fire, and mends the air.”

            “Oh, hello!” Cole said delightedly.

            “It’s safe,” Solas said, leaning close to speak quietly into my ear. “They mean no harm.”

            “Hi, all,” I said, waving. “Pleasure to meet you. And you, Augur.”

            The big man smiled as the spirits slowly faded away again, gesturing for me to sit beside him on the low wall surrounding the firepit. “I would not have expected a lowlander to show such respect to the gods of the hold. Thank you. They will be talking about this for months.”

            “Oh, that’s sweet,” I said. “What was that thing you said about fire? I work more with lightning, to be honest.”

            “It’s not about your magic, girl. How do you think you appear to the gods of the Fade? To those beyond the Veil, your hand burns like the watchman’s bonfire.”

            “Uh. You… So, all spirits can see me? Like a beacon?”

            “Only those nearby can see you, but thoughts spread quickly among the gods.” He leaned forwards suddenly, gently taking hold of my chin so he could stare into my eyes. “But what are these whispers clinging to you? Less and more than spirits. They sing old hurts…”

            “The Well of Sorrows,” I said. “It, uh. It’s a bit hard to explain, really.”

            “I’ve seen the last whispers of aged elf-song in the Fade,” he said thoughtfully. “What you carry is… older. And there’s something else, too. The edges have smoothed, but your soul was unwillingly forced into this body, wasn’t it? Old magic, and an old –”

            “This is something of a sore subject for the Inquisitor,” Solas said, polite but firm. “Perhaps we could discuss the disappearance of your Hold Beast instead.”

            The Augur stared at me for a moment longer, but eventually he nodded, releasing my chin to pat my shoulder as he went on to tell us how he suspected Storvacker was still alive, but that the spirits didn’t seem to be able to find her. He also told us about how Avvar gods worked – people’s beliefs essentially transformed a willing spirit into whichever god they wanted.

            It made sense, once I’d thought about it. Spirits were just reflections of reality, weren’t they? And the Avvar gods were pretty straightforward in their domains, gods of poetry or war or whatever. If a spirit of Wisdom or Compassion could accidentally come into existence by reflecting those emotions, why couldn’t a god be made by dozens, hundreds of people deliberately willing them into existence?

            Suddenly, the elven gods popped into my head. Straightforward deities who embodied one or two domains each, who used to intervene in mortal affairs but then were locked away. Holy shit, could they be the same thing as the Avvar gods, just older? I wanted to mention my theory to Solas, but given his response would either be to tell me I was wrong, or to act like my bold new idea was actually something he’d worked out when he was twelve, I decided to keep it to myself.

            We met back up with the others in the middle of the village, where it turned out they’d had as little success as us when it came to tracking down Storvacker, though at least Varric had talked some merchant with a fondness for the lowlands into taking us in for the night, given it was getting dark. There was a flat roof beside the cabin itself, I think used for storage, with a ladder leading up to it. I struggled to get to sleep, so crept out and clambered up onto that roof. Once it got fully dark the sky lit up with a sort of aurora, it was gorgeous.

            Again, I wished Cullen was there to see it. Sleeping with him for the first time right before going on an extended excursion probably hadn’t been the smartest of moves. It was all I could think about, any time I wasn’t actively engaged in fighting or talking or whatever. Cullen touching me, kissing me, moving inside me. He made this sound before he came, every time; he was pretty quiet during, but at the end, like clockwork, his breath would catch and he’d let out this gasping, choking cry, something that sounded like surprise, or even pain. And afterwards, every time, he’d whisper my name, sometimes just the once, sometimes over and over. I didn’t know which was my favourite. His laugh, or him whispering my name like it was a prayer.

            “You need to get some sleep, you know,” Dorian said as he clambered up to sit beside me. “As lovely as the view is.” He looked at me. “Thinking about your dear commander again, were you?”

            I rested my head against his shoulder with a sigh. “I honestly don’t know what I hate more – being so far away from him for so long, or the times where he comes to battles and I have to worry about him dying. I’m also just… indescribably horny for the moment.”

            “… I can’t help with that last one, I’m afraid.”

            I laughed. “Maybe I should have just stayed single.”

            “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “As melancholy as you may be when you’re apart, I’ve seen you when you’re together, Em. I don’t think I’d be overstating it if I said you looked deliriously happy.” He shrugged. “Perhaps a little upset is worth that happiness.”

            “Speaking from experience?” I grinned. When he only sighed, I slipped my arm through his. “He does make you happy, doesn’t he? The Bull, I mean. Because you deserve it. Probably even more than me.”

            “Don’t think that flattering me will make me leave you out here. Bed. Now. Or I’ll have to get Cassandra involved.”

            “Ooh, that’s a low blow,” I said, making him laugh. “I just… I don’t… If I struggle to fall asleep, that’s a lot of time to lie there by myself, you know? A lot of time to be alone with my thoughts.”

            “You can share my bedroll.” He shrugged when I looked at him. “Bull won’t mind, for the night. It’s not as though we could get up to anything when we’re all packed in together like that, anyway. I can keep your mind off things until you slip off into the Fade.”

“Thanks, Dee,” I whispered. “Alright, fine. I suppose we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow. I can at least try to get some sleep.”

            “Good girl,” he said, petting my hair until I slapped his hand away.

Chapter Text

Cassandra had us up early the next morning, and insisted we stop with the bear-chasing. “The professor is waiting for us to find the last Inquisitor,” she said severely. “We are going out to that island to see what there is to find.”

            I could probably have overruled her, but I couldn’t bear the judgement, honestly, so we headed straight back down to the fishing village to tell Arvid he had to loan us that boat we wanted. He wasn’t especially jazzed by the news, but he did say he hoped we’d come back alive, which was like… nice, if a tad ominous.

            When we got out to the Lady’s Rest, I understood what the Stone-Bear people had been going on about. The island was crawling with spirits, like back in Crestwood, barely more than vague imprints on the surroundings. More than that, there was this feeling to the place, a sort of desperate melancholy. I kept catching a sound on the wind, hardly there, a wispy voice talking about dreams and blood, like Cole in one of his dissociative episodes but with even less coherence.

            Following the wispy voice led us to a hut at the far end of the island, with a half-open Fade rift hovering over a skeleton on a bed, surrounded by flowers. I cautiously triggered the rift, and a spirit popped through.

            “Telana slept…” they said. “I slept. To find him in dreaming… But I… The blood… I’m… she’s… gone. Telana wanted to reach Ameridan again, one more time, but she couldn't. I couldn’t. I died. I tried to stay, but only pieces came through. You opened the sky for the rest of me.”

            “Are you…” I hesitated and turned to Solas. “What is this, is she, are they, something like Cole, or the Divine we met in the Fade?”

            “I believe so,” he said quietly. “This would appear to be a spirit who touched the mind of someone who cared for Inquisitor Ameridan.”

            The spirit had been watching us closely, and now they piped up with, “Ameridan, yes. Inquisitor. Beloved. I… she… came with Ameridan to hunt the dragon.”

            “The dragon?” Cassandra demanded.

            “Huge. Power like none had seen. It came from the mountains with the Avvar. Towns fell, all dead. One last favour for Emperor Drakon. Slay the Avvar-dragon, save Orlais.”

            “I thought Bram said the Inquisitor stepped down?” I said, looking at Cassandra. “But if he was still working as the Inquisitor when he came here, and he never returned, then he never stepped down, right? History got it wrong?”

            “The professor will probably be delighted,” Varric said. “Getting to correct eight hundred years of established history? I know I would.”

            “Yeah,” I said, “but that means… that means the poor guy came down here at his emperor’s behest, saved a lot of people, apparently died doing it, and then everyone remembered him as quitting and going missing on some vanity hunt. Why? He was the emperor’s friend, surely he deserved better than to just be forgotten?”

            “Not forgotten,” the spirit said. “Forbidden. Darkspawn in the north. All of Orlais afraid. No one could know. Orlais must stand unstained, no fear to falter. ‘Please, my friend, for both our peoples’. They fought at the shore, spirits and magic, cold, so cold. How I found her. How she found us. They rested here, then up the river. Metal spires. A way to stop the dragon. Then Telana returned here alone to wait for him. Forever waiting. Dreaming… then dead.”

            “It’s alright,” I said. “We’ve come down here to find Ameridan, to find out the truth, and bring it back to the south. You don’t need to wait here anymore. You can rest.”

            “You did what she wanted you to,” Cole agreed. “You can let go of her now.”

            “Thank you,” the spirit whispered. “It was hard. I… she… went a long time ago. I stayed because she asked. Her things are here. She wanted them found.”

            With that, the spirit was gone, and the rift along with them. I collected some orders from beside Telana’s remains, a surprisingly preserved note that confirmed what the spirit had said, that Ameridan and the people travelling with him were there on Inquisition business. It was decided that Bram probably needed to hear what we’d found out, and so after a brief fight with some Hakkonites who’d followed us out there, we started the trudge back to the Inquisition camp.

            “They just forgot about him,” I said quietly, walking beside Solas. “Everything he did. He died for them, him and his friends, and they just forgot about him.”

            “Yes,” he said. “It is a shame, a terrible one. But the important thing is that he did all that good beforehand, is it not?”

            I smiled, his words feeling a little pointed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s just… to have done everything he did, all the sacrifices, all the pain, all the awful shit that comes with being in charge of something like this… He could at least have left a legacy, right? They could at least have remembered him properly.”

            Solas squeezed my shoulder, looking sad. “Leaders are often remembered incorrectly by history, especially when that history is distant enough to become more like legend. Tyrants have their sharp edges worn down until they are painted as nothing more than stern rulers, while those who spent their entire lives working for good are remembered as cruel or selfish, if they are remembered at all. It is tragic, da’len, I do not deny that. But it is also something that cannot be changed. All we can do is work to improve the world as it is now, and trust that those who matter to us, at least, will remember us correctly when we are gone.”

            “Thus endeth the lesson,” I said, making him laugh.

*

                        I went in to talk to Bram once we reached camp, and he was pretty jazzed when I told him about Telana. Apparently, scholars had debated the idea that Ameridan had a mage lover, so getting to rub that in some people’s faces was pretty exciting for him. Unsurprisingly, the Chantry had denied any implication that the leader of the Inquisition, a Chantry organisation that ended up turning into the original Templar Order and Seekers of Truth, had ever dallied with a mage. Fuckers. The confirmation that Ameridan was acting under orders was also very well-received, since yeah, he’d been remembered as having either fucked off of his own volition, or worse, that he’d been murdered by Drakon out of some sort of political spat.

            Off we went then, heading upriver, the way the spirit had sent us. Along the way we passed a swamp, where Cole grabbed my sleeve, tugging me to a halt. “I can’t feel anything in that place,” he said, pointing.

            “That’s… nice, Baby Bird, but uh, you don’t need to give me constant updates on things you don’t feel.”

            “No, I mean, I feel like there’s something blocking me down there. Like something doesn’t want me to go down there.”

            “And the Augur said the spirits couldn’t find Storvacker, right,” I said. “Guys, we’re taking a detour, come on.”

            Long story short, the Hakkonites had kidnapped… uh, bearnapped Storvacker, and were holding her in some old Tevinter cells they had down there. We released her, and she did genuinely seem to understand that we were friends, since she didn’t try to kill us, but instead killed a whole bunch of Hakkonites alongside us. I insisted on walking her back to the hold, despite Cassandra’s huffs of protest, because I wasn’t going to go to all the trouble of saving the fucking bear just to let her get captured again for the sake of an hour of walking, you know? That was a fun stroll, just wandering along next to a bear as if I was walking a very large off-lead dog. 

            It was good that I did it, anyway. Thane Svarah immediately agreed to work with us against the Hakkonites after hearing what they’d done to Storvacker. Though apparently, what they’d already done to her wasn’t the worst of it, it was what they’d been planning on doing next that was the scary thing.

            “The Jaws of Hakkon sought to bind their god in mortal form and bring war to the lowlands,” she explained.

            “They… a god?” I spluttered. “You mean like, one of the gods of the Fade?”

            “Yes, Hakkon Wintersbreath, bringer of the cold winds of war. Ages ago, the old Jaws of Hakkon did the same. They brought their god to life to destroy the lowlands. Their foolishness lost Hakkon to all Avvar. Now they would free him and begin again.”

            “How did binding Hakkon lose him to all Avvar?”

            “When they bound Hakkon to mortal form, he became blood of this world. He could hear no prayers, nor speak to the Augurs. All he could do was kill. Then he vanished instead of dying, as though rendered mute. Lost for ages. If they sought to free him from mortal form, I could understand. Making him attack the lowlands is a fool’s work.”

            I supposed it was something like Cole. In turning himself human, he’d stopped being Compassion, and become something else, something physical. Making Hakkon mortal, sticking him in… whatever it was he’d been stuck in, he was no longer a spirit the way he had been before. And it had happened hundreds of years before. And the thing he’d been put in had attacked the lowlands, along with the Avvar.

            “The dragon,” I said, quietly horrified. “The dragon the last Inquisitor came here to stop. I think it’s Hakkon. So it’s still out there.”

            Svarah just laughed. “Your Inquisitor must have fought well to stop Hakkon himself!”

            She went on to tell us that the Hakkonite compound was surrounded by a wall of magical ice, something regular methods of melting ice, and even fire magic, couldn’t get through. We needed to find the right way to melt the wall before she could actually do anything to help us, so, add another item to the to-do list. Fuck me, it was never ending.

            As we headed back down to the river, we took a bit of a wrong turn (there was way too much up-and-down to the ground out there, I had to constantly fight the urge to go bird and just leave the team to it) and bumped into Bram’s research assistant, Colette, an Orlesian elf who was investigating something she’d found in a place called Nigel’s Point. We’d previously found evidence that proved Ameridan had gone there in a party of four – himself, poor Telana, a dwarven artificer called Orinna, and one of the first templars, a guy called Haron. The note I’d previously found had been about Haron and his struggles with lyrium. Trouble getting enough of it, since he hadn’t been able to top up his supply down there, and trouble with the effect taking it was having on him. Memory lapses and brain fog and the like. It made me extremely glad I’d told Cullen to stay off the shit.

            This new evidence suggested Haron and Orinna had fought together to keep the Avvar from reaching Ameridan and Telana before they could stop the Hakkon-dragon. Two of them, and they killed at least sixty Avvar before being overwhelmed, according to the inscription the Avvar had left for them. What they’d done had been so impressive, the Avvar had taken the time to commemorate it properly.

            They’d all died. They’d gone down there to do some good, and they’d all died, fighting back-to-back or bleeding alone in a hut or… whatever had happened to Ameridan. When we set off again, I was holding Cole’s hand, tight.

            Tracking the river to the end, and following the instructions to look for metal spikes, led us to what looked to be a Tevinter ruin. I went bird and flew back to the camp to ask Bram to come and take a look at the place, and he set out with Harding and me straight away, moving as quickly and unobtrusively as we could. I tried to stay quiet as much as possible on that trip, for no reason other than Bram and Harding kept chatting in a way that made me think they were flirting, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. He kept calling her ‘Lady Harding’, shit was cute.

            When we got back, I found out we had to solve some sort of tile puzzle to get into the ruin proper. It was different to the ones in the Temple of Mythal, and I found it a hell of a lot less fun, by which I mean it made me want to eat my own fucking hands. In the end, I gave up and let Solas and Bull work it out, something they managed surprisingly quickly.

            “That’s something you don’t see every day!” Bram said brightly once we finally got inside. “A pair of shrines. This one is clearly Andrastian, albeit from a very early period, likely pre-Divine. But this,” he gestured towards a pair of halla statues, resting in the outstretched, open palms of the statue of Andraste, “is elven. One of their gods, um, what was it? ‘Every Mother Finds Druffalo Among Sleeping Juniper Groves’…”

            “Uh. Are you crashing out, Bram?”

            He laughed self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a mnemonic to help me with the names of the elven gods. ‘Every’ is Elgar’nan, ‘mother’ is Mythal, ‘finds’ is Fallow-something.” He cleared his throat anxiously. “I was more focused on early Chantry history, I didn’t really do elves.”

            “Ah, right.” I whispered the mnemonic to myself, counting it off on my fingers. “You’re missing someone. If you’ve only got one F in there, and it’s Falon’Din, then there’s nothing for Fen’Harel.”

            “Oh!” Bram said, sounding surprised. “Yes, I suppose I forgot about him.”

            “Most people do,” Solas said through his teeth.

            “It’s Ghilan’nain, anyway,” I said, trying desperately not to laugh. “The statue here, the halla, it’s the symbol of Ghilan’nain.”

            “Of course! Thank you, your Worship, that would have bothered me all day.”

            “Two shrines for two lovers,” Harding mused. “Inquisitor Ameridan and Telana. Maybe Telana was an elf.”

            “Telana is an elven name,” Solas put in.

            “Oh, yes, that’s good!” Bram said. “The Chantry expunged references to elves before the Exalted March on the Dales. They erased the Canticle of Shartan. They must have done the same to Telana.”

            “Oh yeah, really good,” I said, unable to entirely bite back the bitterness. “Really good, that she came down here at the emperor’s request and died, hurt and alone and so fucking sad, after the man she loved and their best friends had already snuffed it, and then the Chantry forcibly excised her from history just because she was an elf. That’s some great stuff, that is.”

            “None of that is the professor’s fault, Emma,” Harding said, with just a touch of reproach, since Bram was looking chastened.

            “But she’s right to be angry,” Cassandra said. “The Chant of Light is meant to spread the truth, not suppress it. When we get back to Skyhold, we will ensure the truth is made public, my friend, have no fear.”

            “Cheers, Cass.”

            “Well, if I may continue?” Bram said hesitantly. When I nodded, smiling in an attempt to show him I wasn’t actually pissed off at him, he went on with, “This isn’t a burial site, that much is obvious.”

            “Look at those flowers,” Harding said. “They’re not native to the area. What if they were left at the shrine as an offering?”

            “Yes!” Bram said, and the way he looked down at Harding had me wondering how to set two people up. Given how bad I was at relationships, maybe it was best for me to stay out of it. Possibly I could ask Dorian to get involved, he seemed to know what he was doing on that front. I'd never quite shaken the suspicion that Cullen's chess matches with Dorian had more to do with him eventually asking me out than our own chess matches had. “A night of prayer before battle against the dragon!”

            Thanks to Bram, we didn’t just work out where Telana and Ameridan had gone, we even worked out how to melt the ice wall. It was a real bitch to get done, mind you, it involved running around over pretty much the entire fucking Basin to light a series of Tevinter relics, but still. Job done. From there, we went straight back to Stone-Bear Hold to let them know we’d sorted it.

            “Everything we’ve found about Inquisitor Ameridan suggests that he never emerged from that Tevinter fortress,” Bram said.

            “If that is where your Inquisitor defeated Hakkon, that is where the Jaws of Hakkon must perform the rite to free him,” Svarah said.

            “Cool, cool,” I said. “Hopefully we get to them before they do the rite.”

            “You’re really okay with us killing your god?” Harding asked dubiously.

            “Gods cannot be reborn until they die!” Svarah said, sounding very cheerful about the whole thing. “Hakkon needs a good rebirthing.”

            When she heard me worrying about the potential losses we’d take while attacking the fortress, Svarah pointed out that what we needed was a raid, not an assault. She’d send her people out with us, they’d climb the walls, which was apparently a thing they liked doing, and then open the gate from the inside.

            “I can always turn into a bird and open the gate from the inside myself, to save putting your people in danger,” I pointed out. “I’ve done it before.”

            “Then you were shot in the chest,” Cassandra pointed out severely.

            “It’s fine, lowlander,” Svarah said, waving a hand. “My people are looking forward to a raid on the Hakkonites. You will find danger enough once we get you inside the fortress, don’t worry.”

            “Great.”

Chapter Text

Harding said she’d have some of our people fake weakness deeper into the Basin in an attempt to draw out some of the Hakkonites, and that night my team and the people of Stone-Bear Hold went through with the plan. The Avvar climbed the wall and let us in, and my team charged straight through into the fortress proper.

            It was bitterly, monstrously cold inside. I coped better with the cold than heat, and even so, I was shivering so hard I could barely open my mouth. Dorian would probably have been complaining the whole time, if he wasn’t having the same problem. Also, I think he remembered telling Sera she could slap him if he ever complained about the cold again, which was a smart move, because Sera definitely remembered, and even as she shivered she had her hand poised, ready to smack him.

            We made our way down to the main hall of the fortress, following a lot of yelled chanting. It turned out we’d gotten there just in time, because that dickhead Harofsen was actively in the process of trying to put Hakkon in himself, which sounded dirty but was actually a massive ball-ache. Uh. Also not in a dirty way.

            I think he must have succeeded to an extent, given he was Corypheus-sized by the time we got there. He was also able to send out waves of biting cold, so cold it made my eyes water, only for the tears to immediately freeze. I swear, I could feel my heart beating slower as that chill washed over me, my limbs becoming heavy and clumsier than usual, like I was a reptile going into torpor. Still, while he was distracted by Bull, the only one big enough to seem like a threat, I slipped around behind him and fried the fuck out of him. It took some effort, but it did the trick. Once he was dead, along with his various hangers-on, the air warmed back up enough that I didn’t feel like we were all going to die of hypothermia.

            As I started rubbing ice from my face, a cluster of stones rose up to form a pathway, leading up to a platform overhead, one I hadn’t noticed while I’d been getting frozen. I climbed the path slowly, realising as I did that there was a man up there. A grey-haired elf, with Dirthamen's vallaslin and a mage’s staff, power emanating from him to the dragon hovering overhead. Embarrassingly, I’d also failed to notice the dragon during the fight. Even then, I barely paid it any mind. Not compared to the guy on one knee before me.

            “Inquisitor,” I said weakly.

            “Inquisitor,” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Andaran atish’an. I am glad Drakon’s friendship with our people has remained strong.”

            I froze (metaphorically, this time), not sure whether to tell him the truth or not. It turned out I needn’t have worried, because Solas was more than happy to say, “It has not. Drakon’s son destroyed the Dales.”

            “Drakon’s son,” Ameridan said. He broke off, looking stricken for a moment, before almost whispering, “How long?”

            “You were the last Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, perhaps sensing that I wasn’t going to be able to tell him. “There has not been another since you disappeared eight hundred years ago. Until now.”

            “Drakon was my oldest friend,” he said. “He would have sent someone to find me.”

            “He never had the chance,” Solas stepped in again. God, I was going to have to say something soon, I looked like an idiot. I just couldn’t bear to be the one to tell him all those terrible things. “The darkspawn that rose in the Anderfels threatened all of Orlais.”

            “I see,” Ameridan said heavily. “Telana escaped the battle. Did she… Do the records say what became of her?”

            “She,” I said, swallowing. “Um, she…” God, I couldn’t lie to him. He deserved to know the truth. “She went back to the island in the lake. She was trying to reach you. She… I’m sorry, she died out there.”

            “I asked her not to. She was a good hunter and the love of my life, but she never…” He trailed off into a sigh. The next time he spoke, he sounded more frustrated than anything. “I never wanted this job. Hunting demons was so much simpler than politics.”

            I couldn’t help laughing. “Well, it’s good to know that press-ganging someone who hates politics into the job that’s primarily about politics is traditional, at least.” The Inquisitor managed a smile.

            “Inquisitor Ameridan,” Cassandra jumped in again, “how could the leader of the Seekers be a mage?”

            “Has history forgotten so much?” he said bitterly. “I was not a Seeker myself, as most Inquisitors were. I used my magical gifts in the hunting of demons and maleficarum. Do the Seekers no longer welcome the aid of mages?”

            “No,” Cassandra sighed. “That was forgotten, among many other things.”

            “How did you end up being chosen, if they usually went for Seekers?” I asked.

            “As the Inquisition joined the Chantry, we required a leader who inspired loyalty, not fear. Drakon asked that I lead, to show a united front. I was needed.” He smiled. “As I suspect you were needed.”

            “I…” I glanced guiltily back at Cassandra, who sighed and gestured for me to continue. “I didn’t choose this. I wouldn’t have chosen this. Something happened to me, a magical… accident, you might call it, that made me important to the cause, and things just escalated from there. I, um. I can’t say I enjoy it. Being an elf, and a mage, and having to do politics in this day and age, it’s been… difficult. I’m not the sort of person who likes being the centre of attention, either, or making decisions that affect other people, and all of this, talking to people, people putting their lives in my hands it… Sorry, I’m rambling.” I laughed awkwardly, picking at my thumbnail.

            “I understand,” Ameridan said gently. “If you’ll accept an old man’s advice, da’len? Take moments of happiness where you find them. The world will take the rest.”

            “Thank you,” I said. “Anything is… Thank you.”

            He nodded. “The dragon carries the spirit of an Avvar god. I lacked the strength to kill it. My own magic was able to bind us all, locked in time. But when the cultists drew that spirit into another vessel, it disrupted my bindings. It is breaking free.”

            “Well, I’ll be glad to fight it alongside another Inquisitor,” I said with a grin. “Another elven mage Inquisitor, at that. Not just glad, I’m honoured.”

            “As would I be, da’len, but I’m afraid it is not to be. The passage of years can be delayed, but not ignored. I will soon join Telana at Andraste’s side. Take this.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and a glowing green orb flew from his chest to hover in front of me. “It holds the last few memories of an old hunter who was neither as wise nor as strong as he thought.”

            “Thank you,” I said again, grabbing the ball, which was surprisingly physical for a sphere of energy, and slipping it into my bag for later. “I hate that it was so brief, but I’m glad I found you, all the same.”

            “So am I. Fight well, Inquisitor. I am honoured to have met you.”

            Ameridan disappeared into a cloud of swirling energy, and the dragon shook itself free of the magical binding, taking off through the open ceiling into the night sky. I stared after it with a sigh.

            “Well,” I said, “we’d better deal with that fucking thing now.”

*

                        The dragon was wreaking havoc down on the shoreline, and we hurried down there to meet it. It had formed this big ice arena, it was a whole thing. It was also yelling at us the whole time we fought it, which was weird, a dragon talking and all. Of course, that was because of the spirit inside the dragon.

            Still, Bull knew about fighting dragons, even ones that were haunted. The Chargers and Gael’s team met up with us at the shoreline, and we broke out the same playbook as we had with Crestwood’s dragon. All the mages but me laid down barriers, everyone else attacked the thing’s legs, while Bull focused on attacking its head.

            The turning point came when I remembered what the Augur had said about the Anchor, and poured power into it. Not enough to activate it, just enough to set my hand stinging and glowing brighter. “Oi!” I yelled. “The last Inquisitor managed to trap you for almost a millennia, didn’t he? Imagine what an Inquisitor with this sort of power can do to you!”

            The Hakkon-dragon let out something that sounded like a grinding, clattering laugh and turned all its attention on me. “Big talk, from such a tiny thing,” it said, prowling towards me, knocking aside the warriors hacking at its legs as it came. It was already bleeding badly, and limping on one of its front legs, but it seemed like it was happy to take me out all the same.

            I shot a blast of lightning at it, doing nothing more than making it shake its head. It laughed again, drawing itself up ready to blast me with its ice breath… and Bull, unheeded, leapt onto its back and hacked through its spine with two swings of his axe. Hakkon barely had time to let out a surprised scream before it collapsed, partially decapitated.

            “Thank fuck for that,” I said, bracing my hands on my knees and taking deep breaths as the spirit burst from the dragon’s corpse, ascending into the sky, which was once again split with the aurora. It was a surprisingly beautiful moment, given all the awfulness that had come before. “Good work, Bull!” I called over. He hefted his axe over his head and gave an inarticulate roar in response.

*

                        Once it was dead, we headed back to check on Stone-Bear Hold, where Svarah decided I’d done too much to be a guest, so she named me an honorary member of the hold instead. I even got a fancy Avvar name out of it, First-Thaw, something to do with ice breaking and new spring and all that jazz. Honestly, I was just happy for her to have thought of me like that.

            After she gave me my fancy new name, I hesitantly held out my staff. “Um. This belonged to Tyrdda Bright-Axe, once upon a time. It’s her, uh, bright axe. An Avvar who joined the Inquisition helped us find it, said he wanted me to have it, but… I don’t know. I feel like it would be wrong not to give it back to you.”

            Svarah smiled, stood, and came over to lay her hands on the staff… then gently pushed it back towards me. “It’s said the Lady of the Skies took mortal form," she said when I looked surprised, "elven form, to become the lover of Tyrdda, and guided her to create the Avvar. According to our skalds, this weapon was a love-gift from the Lady to Tyrdda. It seems a fitting weapon for the elf who heals the wounds in the Lady’s skin, to say nothing of one who could defeat Hakkon Wintersbreath in battle. Keep the staff, Inquisitor First-Thaw. Use it to continue aiding our Lady.”

            When we got back to the Inquisition camp, the team and I went to sit on the beach just outside the fence, and under the light of the aurora I triggered the memory ball Ameridan had given me. Memories of Ameridan planning to trap the dragon, even if it meant he was trapped in with it, another of him praying to Andraste and Ghilan’nain. It was the last two that really got to me, though. One where he hoped Telana would somehow escape, despite the rest of them being dead, while the final one was a memory of him and his friends.

            He finished this last with, “They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly… and I would be lost without them.”

            “Yes, what’s that like?” Dorian said dryly.

            “They were happy,” Cole said, “then dead. But the happiness mattered.”

            “Da’len,” Solas said gently, “are you alright?”

            “Mm.”

            “Come here,” Dorian sighed, pulling me tight against his side. “We’re all alive, Em. It’s a terrible shame for them, but we’re alive.”

            I nodded, slipping my arm through his. Solas came to sit on my other side, as Cole crawled into my lap, and Sera glomped onto my back like a limpet. It was almost enough to make me smile.

            “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you lot,” I whispered. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

            “Appreciate the sentiment, Dreamer,” Varric said, reaching into the huddle to pat my knee. “But if I have anything to say about it, that’s never going to be an issue.”

            “You don’t get rid of us that easily, Boss,” Bull agreed, clapping me on the shoulder, making Sera squeak.

            Bit of a bummer of an ending, maybe, but all in all it wasn’t the worst trip I’d been on. Harding even ended up getting a boyfriend out of it, since Bram was smart enough to fall for her, so, you know. Definitely not the worst trip an Inquisitor took to the place.

Chapter Text

After everything that happened in the Basin, I’d hoped we’d get to go straight back to Skyhold, but no, of course not. We got another letter from Leliana before we could set out, telling us we had to go and check out some collapsed lyrium mine. Apparently Orzammar expected some input, given our alliance, and seeing as we needed a steady lyrium supply it had been decided in my absence that I’d better make an appearance.

Harding set out the day before us and rode north like hell, meeting us at the entrance to the Deep Roads. ‘Entrance’ in this case meant a rickety, hastily constructed wooden elevator over a huge drop. I tried to keep smiling at Harding, who was very cheerful under the circumstances, despite the way sweat had started trickling down my neck.

            “Inquisitor,” she said. “The workers are almost done building a lift to the Deep Roads. No darkspawn trouble yet, but the earthquakes have been brutal.”

            God, the very thought of being down in those fucking tunnels, only for a quake to collapse the way behind me… After admitting to my fear of deep water and spiders I felt like adding ‘claustrophobia, but specifically relating to being underground’ would be too much, if I wanted to keep any sort of respect at all. So I swallowed down my welling nausea and said, “Leliana’s letter said I’m here looking for a Shaper Valta?”

            “She’s waiting below.” Harding hooked a thumb over her shoulder, into the pit. “You won’t see an Orzammar dwarf on the surface. They have rules about that.”

            “Not a fan of Orzammar?” I said, smiling, because her tone had been bitterly sarcastic, for Harding.

            “I don’t have an opinion. Cloudgazers like me aren’t even allowed in the city.”

            “How about we go there, and if anyone tries to stop you, I open a rift and dump them all into the Fade?”

            She laughed. “It’s not a very diplomatic solution.”

            “Fucking good one, though.”

            “Maybe. Thank you for the offer, all the same.” She glanced behind her. “The lift is done. We were told there’s not a lot of space to manoeuvre down there, so better for you to travel light. They’re providing a squad of the Legion of the Dead to accompany you, in any case.”

            “Okay, cool. I’ll leave Gael and the gang up here with you, in case darkspawn make themselves a problem.”

            “Thank you.” She rocked back and forth, clapping her hands. “So. Lift is ready.”

            “Yep.”

            “Any time you want to head out.”

            “Right.” I sighed. “Right.”

            Harding cocked her head, starting to grin again. “Wait. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

            “Heights I’m fine with.” I sighed again, patting her on the shoulder. “Depths is another story. See you soon, Harding. Hopefully.”

            “Good luck down there!”

            I clung to Solas the whole way down, trying to look like it was just to steady myself. He was polite enough not to make a big deal out of it. We finally landed on a shelf about a mile down, a narrow path along the edge of a crevasse with nothing on it but a group of covered corpses and a pale dwarf woman with black hair and very dark eyes.

            “Shaper Valta, I presume,” I said.

            “Atrast vala, Inquisitor. The Shaperate welcomes you to the Deep Roads.”

            “Andaran atish’an, it’s nice to meet you,” I said. “How bad is the situation down here? I’d heard the earthquakes are bad enough on the surface.”

            “We have lost more people than we can count,” Valta said solemnly. “The mining caste has suffered greatly. Our situation has worsened since we contacted Skyhold. The quakes collapsed this mine and shattered a seal keeping the darkspawn at bay. The Legion of the Dead hasn’t been able to mend the broken seal – and we can’t afford to lose any more lyrium.”

            “Right. Okay.” I still hated it, even after all that time. The fact it all fell back on me. The fact I was going to have to be the one to make the decision to send all of us down into fucking Moria, and hope those mines didn’t become our tomb. “Let’s get cracking.”

            That turned out to be a poor choice of words. We’d almost made it to the actual doorway into the Deep Roads when a hulking, horned beast charged out of it towards us. Bull physically picked me up by the back of my shirt and set me down behind him as he, Cassandra, and Blackwall ran to meet the thing. The air hummed as Solas and Dorian dropped barriers around them.

            “Ogre!” Valta cried.

            “Hell of a welcoming party,” Varric yelled, cocking Bianca.

            I hit the thing with a spray of fire, and then felt immediate regret as it zeroed in on me. Backing up hastily, I threw a blast of lightning out instead, only realising as it shouldered through the warriors that I didn’t have a barrier of my own. It came at me with such hate in its eyes, even beyond what I’d seen in there as it had run up to engage with Bull and the others. It felt like it was looking into me, deep, all the way to the Well and the Anchor, and it was furious.

            It kept coming, implacable as a freight train, ignoring the others as they stabbed and slashed and shot and froze, until finally it was close enough to backhand me across the torso. It was like being hit by a car. I flew sideways into the cavern wall, and that’s what did the real damage. With a weird sense of déjà vu I crumpled against the wall, sure half the ribs in my right side were broken. I could only watch, gasping, as the ogre raised one massive foot over me, preparing to stomp me into paste. Then Cole appeared over its shoulder, driving a blade into each of its eyes and sending it thudding to the ground beside me.

            “Inquisitor?” Valta gasped, horrified.

            “Da’len,” Solas dropped to his knees next to me, “how badly are you hurt?”

            “Ribs,” I choked out. “Ribs again. Fuck’s sake. Guys, help inside. Be with you… in five. Go.”

            Slapping the Anchor over my busted ribs, the way I had back in Caer Bronach, I felt them start to knit back together quickly. “Oh, that feels wrong.” I ground my teeth together, the way the ends of splintered bone were grinding together in my chest (ew ew ew), but still made an effort to smile at Solas and Valta, who’d hung back to watch over me.

            “That is remarkable,” Valta said softly. “You can use the Mark to heal?”

            “Yeh.” I looked at Solas. “It seemed like the Anchor set it off, like a red rag to a bull. That or the Well, or both. Does that make sense?”

            Solas swallowed. “We understand… so little about darkspawn,” he said. “It’s possible it simply sensed strong, old magic, not necessarily the Anchor or the Well, and decided to prioritise eliminating that threat.”

            “Okay.” I was finally able to take a full breath, and reached out a hand. He carefully pulled me to my feet. “Down to bruises, and I don’t even feel a little bit like passing out. Works for me. Let’s go –”

            Two explosions rocked the stone under us, and we took off running (or hobbling at speed, in my case), expecting the worst. Thankfully, when we got down there everyone seemed alright, so I assumed they’d been controlled demolitions, rather than something catastrophic.

            “Inquisitor!” A stocky, black-bearded dwarf man with a face full of tattoos waved me over. He had a great voice, sort of gravelly, really inspired confidence in him as a badass. “Hear you took a hit from an ogre. You must be tougher than the average elf.”

            “Meet Lieutenant Renn,” Valta said. “Veteran of the Fifth Blight and one of the Legion’s finest commanders.”

            Renn laughed. “Someone paid her to say that. Appreciate the help, Inquisitor. Your people helped us collapse that seal, which has bought us some time. Blighters had the run of these tunnels for days. Now they have a roadblock.”

            “Sorry I couldn’t be here to help out myself,” I said, waving to my team, who were being debriefed by Solas.

            “To be perfectly honest, I’m just surprised you’re walking,” Renn said.

            “Up and about and ready to work with the Legion to get this issue dealt with.”

            “That’s the best news I’ve heard since this whole thing started.” Renn huffed a laugh. “Actually, the only good news.”

            Before either of us had a chance to say anything else another quake hit, sending statues crumbling around us. I froze, staring at the way we’d come in, willing it to stay open, not to trap us all down there. It was only when Renn grabbed me around the waist and hauled me behind a pillar that I realised rocks might not have been falling over the exit, but they were damn sure falling in the room with us.

            “Too used to cloudgazing, I take it,” Renn said teasingly, patting me on the back. Maybe it was just the rib-shock talking, but I swear I was already half in love with him.

            “You heard that, yes?” Valta said once things had calmed down. “The rhythm in the tremors? It’s clearer. Stronger. More insistent.”

            “I hear it,” Renn snapped back. “Doesn’t prove a thing.”

            That’s how I came to hear Valta’s theory on Titans, which were these enormous creatures that, according to her, sang to shape the stone. That’s what she believed was causing the earthquakes, a live, singing Titan. Renn was openly sceptical of the idea, especially since the only mention of the things came from some half-rotten pre-First Blight text Valta had pulled out of a hole somewhere. Which, in fairness, was hardly like a peer-reviewed source to base your opinions on.

            Still, Valta was sure, and she said she could feel where the quakes were coming from with her ‘Stone Sense’ (like a sixth sense, but with stone, presumably). Our job, my team and the Legion, was to get her down there safely. Well, and then, like, fix it, hopefully.

            I headed over to where my people were laying out bedrolls. “A couple of hours rest and we’re heading deeper in,” I told them. “Valta thinks she can find the, uh. The source of the quakes.” I gave them the basics of the Titan stuff as I eased myself to the ground. “Sounds weird, I know, but –” My shrug broke off into a hiss.

            “You good, Boss?” Bull handed me an elfroot tonic.

            “Given I should be lying up there with a five-hundred-piece jigsaw for a ribcage right now, not bad, yeah.” I chugged the whole tonic before Solas could stop me, slowly turning the world around me wibbly. “Everyone settle down for now. Listen… I’m not going to force anyone down into that pit with me. I've got to go, to keep Orzammar from kicking off, but if any of you would rather stay up here with Harding and Gael and all, you can. No questions asked, no judgement rendered.”

            But none of them did. None of them even looked like they were considering it, save for a token, “Can’t say I’m overly excited about heading into the Roads – my Stone Sense is basically non-existent” from Varric. I propped myself up against a pillar, Solas sitting down beside me.

            “Have you ever heard of these Titan things?” I asked him quietly once the others had started talking amongst themselves.

            Solas shifted uncomfortably, and through the elfroot haze I still managed to be amused by how much he hated admitting ignorance. “I have not. Even in the furthest of my travels in the Fade.”

            “You know, Dagna said something to me, when she’d been playing with Fade stuff all day. Back when she was making the anti-Samson rune. She said suddenly she felt like she was ‘size of a mountain big’, and that she ‘thought all the thoughts’. Maybe a dwarf playing with Fade stuff unlocked some, like… ancestral memory about the Titans?”

            “Or perhaps Dagna merely spends a little too much time around raw lyrium,” he joked. “Get some rest now, da’len. Let the tonic do its work.”

            I wanted to discuss it more, but realistically neither of us had anything more than conjecture to argue over, and the tonic was making my limbs feel heavier than they should be. So instead, I let myself slump back and fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Renn and Valta led us onwards the next day, ever downwards, always following Valta’s Stone Sense, fighting through wave after wave of darkspawn as we went. I always had to stay right at the back of the group, behind the Legionnaires and my team and even Solas and Dorian, because the damn things absolutely hated me. Hated the Anchor or the Well, anyway, whatever Solas had to say about it. I could feel it, feel the hatred boiling off them as they honed in on all the weird magic I'd ended up collecting in me. It was more unnerving than the miles of stone above our heads.

            We lost several Legionnaires as we made our way through the ruins of a lost (now technically found) thaig, a sort of old dwarven city, and Renn commanded the final few to wait back at a camp set up at the top of a stone lift we’d discovered, which was surprisingly still functional. Dwarven crafting was phenomenal, fair play to them.

            I didn’t argue against leaving the Legion behind. My team alone was plenty big enough, and while the Legionnaires fought well, it was weirdly like they were looking to get themselves killed in every fight. I understood the whole ‘we’re already dead yeehaw’ mentality, but it seemed like it made them more reckless, and I didn’t want to get any more of them killed than I already had.

            Right before we made the descent, I stepped aside for another discussion with Valta and Renn. Valta had found another crumbly old book with an Emissary we'd killed (a sort of darkspawn that could do magic, oodles of fun). A book that talked about the Titan’s hymn ‘making kingdoms tremble’.

            “Adds weight to the theory that these quakes are all being brought about by Titans,” I said, making Renn snort derisively. “Does the book give any hints to how we might stop this shit from happening this time around?”

            “Nothing conclusive, I’m afraid,” Valta said.

            “Whatever’s going on, we’ll find out down there,” Renn said. He grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. “Hopefully we’re going too deep for spiders, huh?”

            Yeah, a pack of giant spiders had surprised us in the higher levels, and I’d responded as well as ever. Honestly, I’d probably have ended up dead in a hole somewhere if Varric hadn’t had the presence of mind to trip me. I’d rather have to solo a pack of deepstalkers (which were basically tiny dinosaurs with lamprey faces, classic Thedosian horror-fauna) than face any more fucking spiders.

            The lift let out onto pitch darkness, the only light coming from the torches we were carrying… and the specks in the distance that looked unpleasantly like glowing eyes. Only two eyes at a time, at least, so probably not spiders. As well as being darker than the thaig above, down there the passage was narrower and rougher, more like a regular cave, all damp stone and stalagmites. My chest was definitely tightening a little as we picked our way cautiously along, until Valta stopped, holding up a hand.

            “Something moved up ahead,” she said.

            Renn gestured for the rest of us to hang back, walking out a little way ahead to yell, “Show yourselves!”

            Boom.

            None of us had a chance to react before Renn flinched back, choking, a fist-sized hole blown in the back of his armour. Even Bianca didn’t have that sort of force. Bull shoved me behind him as everyone, astonishingly Renn included, joined in battle with a bunch of dwarf-sized bastards who were armoured head to toe and carrying these bolt-firer things that operated unsettlingly similarly to semi-automatics.

            They all died, in any case. Renn was still standing at the end, and I had a brief moment to hope that he might, somehow, not have been as badly wounded as I’d thought, that maybe we could haul him back to safety and heal him. Then he dropped, and was dead before Valta and I even reached him.

            “He deserved better than this,” Valta said. “Renn joined the Legion to pay his father’s debts. It kept his mother and brother from losing their caste. The poor and desperate here often sacrifice themselves for their family’s future.”

            “I’m sorry, Valta,” I said. “He seemed like a good man, and I could tell you two were… friends.” I didn’t want to tell her I’d already started shipping them together. It would have felt like rubbing salt in the wound right then.

            Valta rubbed her eyes surreptitiously, nodding towards the armoured corpses. “Their armour… there’s lyrium woven directly into the metal. And it’s bonded to their skin. Impossible to remove. But I know what we’d find underneath. Dwarves. Renn was killed by our own kind.”

            It was a mad idea, but I had no doubt she was right. They were the right size, and who else would be living down so deep? Either way, there was nothing to do right then other than raise a cairn over Renn as best we could and press on.

            “This sucks, big-style,” Sera muttered, tucking herself in close to Blackwall, who willingly wrapped a comforting arm around her. “Hate losing people. Renn was a laugh and all.”

            “That’s the Deep Roads for you,” Varric sighed. “Can’t say I’m sorry to be a surfacer.”

            Further along we found a series of weird carvings in the wall, which Valta said were similar to the Memories they had in the Shaperate at Orzammar, essentially the history of the dwarves. These carvings were a story kept by the bastard-dwarves who’d killed Renn, who apparently called themselves the ‘Sha-Brytol’.

            “I believe it means ‘Revered Defenders’,” she said.

            “Defenders?” I said. “What are they… Is there a city down here or something? Or are they trying to stop us taking lyrium?”

            Valta shook her head, picking her way through a translation. “’Isatunoll… Isatunoll… Cut our tongues… Entomb our bodies… Watch over the Titan until it stirs’. The warriors who attacked us, the Sha-Brytol, are protecting a Titan!”

            We found more of those Memory walls further on, talking about the Titan shaping the stone, ‘sculpting the world within and without’. Overall, I was starting to feel like we’d maybe bitten off more than we could chew with our little Deep Roads escapade. Politically, yes, because there had to be a reason why even a shaper like Valta had never heard about any of that shit, and that reason was usually extreme censorship. I'd gone down there to improve our relationship with Orzammar, so I didn't think uncovering some sort of catastrophic secret would be well received. But also… we were walking into a situation involving a creature so phenomenally hugelarge it sculpted the world. How were we meant to deal with something like that?

            After briefly wandering into a room with about a hundred nugs in it, one of whom was, best I could tell from context clues, the Nug King (“Are we… going to tell people about this?” I asked as we slowly walked back out. “Not unless you want to get locked up for your own good,” Varric answered with a snort), we came around a bend in a passage into an enormous cavern lined with lyrium.

            “I just became the most popular dwarf in the merchant’s guild!” Varric said as we all stood there gawking.

            “I’m going up to get a better look,” I said, “back in a flash.”

            Cassandra caught me by the arm before I could change. “Stay as far from any lyrium as you can. I know it will not be easy,” her eyes swept the cavern, “but try.”

            “Right, lyrium sickness. I’ll bear it in mind.”

            As a raven, I flew up towards the ceiling, towards something that looked eerily like stars, but which turned out to be more lyrium veins, the ends of them poking out of the rock as little nodes of light. The rushing, thundering sound audible from ground-level was an underground sea, a huge one, so giant that despite the fact it was putting out its own soft blue light I couldn’t see the far side.

            “The way forward is down there,” I capped off my description for the others once I was grounded and elven again. As we started picking our way along, avoiding the lyrium deposits as best we could, I dropped back to speak to Solas. “The lyrium veins down here are giving me the creeps.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            “They look like veins,” I said, almost in a whisper. “Real veins, like, capillaries, blood vessels. Remember the other week, where we went to that old thaig in the Hinterlands with real-Bianca?”

             It turned out the living, breathing dwarf Bianca who Varric had named the crossbow after (who was also married to someone else, and who Varric technically legally wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near, shit was messyyy) had cocked up and allowed people to start smuggling red lyrium, it was a whole long screwed-up story. The upshot of it all was that she’d been doing some tests on the red stuff, and she’d found out that the reason it was red was because it was blighted. Despite the fact blight was only meant to affect animals and vegetables, absolutely no minerals, which suggested lyrium was somehow alive.

            I watched the same thought hit Solas – lyrium being alive. Lyrium veins looking like real veins. Titans. He swallowed hard, looking down as he whispered, “Keep it to yourself, for the moment.”

            That was probably the right idea, and I walked faster again, to try to look like a leader despite how unnerved I was (and also the fact the lyrium exposure was making me feel a bit sick). We had to fight through even more Sha-Brytol along the way, eventually making it to a thankfully lyrium-free cave with another of those memories on the wall, this one saying ‘only the pure may pass’. Well, Valta said the source of the quakes was even further down, so fuck that, we were passing regardless.

            After having a rest, letting the lyrium nausea subside a little, we pressed on again, only to walk out into a cavern even more incredible than the last. There didn’t seem to be any bottom to it, just an endless drop into clouds and light, as if someone had put a ceiling over a mountain range. Stalactites descended from that ceiling, except calling them stalactites wasn’t doing them justice. Some of them were the size of mountains themselves, with what seemed to be whole village-worths of houses mined into each one.

            “This is beautiful,” I said in a weak voice, leaning on a stone wall at the edge of the abyss. For the first time since getting on the first rickety lift, I wasn’t feeling claustrophobic. Those clouds – clouds – especially seemed to be tricking my mind into thinking we were outside. “This place… Holy shit. How can anything so big be going on under our feet with nobody any the wiser?”

            The others seemed to have been stunned into silence, save for a “remarkable!” from Cassandra, and a “so loud!” from Cole. Valta was the only one still functioning, joining me at the wall.

            “Nothing should surprise me anymore,” she said, “but this! Wait. The rhythm we followed. We’ve found the source. But not the Titan.”

            The source was a glowing crystal on a platform attached to one of the nearby giant stalactites. A huge, suspiciously heart-shaped lyrium crystal which was plumbed into more lyrium veins that spiralled up the supporting stalactite to the ceiling far overhead. I glanced at Solas, who gave a terse nod.

            “We’ve found the Titan,” I said. When Valta looked up at me, confused, I pressed on. “Someone we know has previously confirmed lyrium must be alive. The veins. The whole thing about the Titans shaping the stone just by singing. We’ve found the Titan. We’re inside it.” I nodded towards the platform. “I think that thing is its heart. Or maybe a heart, maybe something this big needs more than one. Could also be a lymph node.”

            “That’s impossible!” Valta gasped. I gestured mutely to everything around us, apparently pretty expressively given she immediately changed her tune. “That’s incredible!” Her jaw tightened as Sha-Brytol started pouring up the stairs towards us. “If anything happens to me, make sure Orzammar hears about all of this!”

            The Sha-Brytol down there died as easily as any of the others, maybe even easier, probably because those ones had never expected to have to actually defend against anyone. We fought our way down one stairwell after another, until finally we came face to facets with the Titan’s heart. As we approached, Valta and me in the lead again, the heart (or possibly lymph node) pulsed and shot out a wave of energy that sent Valta flying.

            Before I could even think of running to check on her, a thick, lyrium-lined wall sprang up between us, trapping me and the gang inside with the heart. It shook itself free of the clinging lyrium veins above, summoned enough stone to form a crude set of armour, and turned to us with what seemed like ill intent. It was like some sort of big stone praying mantis, strung together with lyrium.

            “Uh. Hi! Look, we just oh shit yep –” I threw myself aside as a rocky appendage slammed down right where I’d just been standing. “Fighting, then, fighting it is.”

            Fight we did. Like the darkspawn, it seemed to be focusing its attacks on me, drawn by the Anchor. Given there was only one of the thing, it worked in our favour that time. I danced around, covered in a barrier and trying not to get smacked as much as possible, as the others whittled away at its defences, eventually breaking through to its centre and shattering it. The wall blocking our retreat fell immediately.

            “Valta.” Gasping and winded, I staggered back over to her, where she was still writhing on the ground. “Valta, are you alright? We –”

            Thank God Solas’ last barrier hadn’t fully decayed. A wave of energy exploded out from her, hitting like a truck and sending me flying back the way I’d come, tumbling along the ground like a ragdoll. She stood up slowly, palms glowing, staring at them like she’d never seen hands before.

            “What the fuck was that?” I said, voice too shrill, as Bull and Cassandra hauled me to my feet.

            “I am… I’m sorry, Inquisitor,” Valta said. “Are you alright?”

            “Think so. Are you?”

            “Yes. Yes, I believe so.”

            “Okay. It’s just, you just did magic. And I know I’m not from around here, but I’m still like ninety percent sure that’s not a thing dwarves do.”

            “Yeah, that I can confirm,” Varric snorted.

            “It wasn’t magic,” she said, “it was… an accident. Everything will be fine. The Stone is silent. The rhythm has faded, and so have the tremors. But the song still echoes… It tells me things. The Breach. That’s what disturbed the Titan. It is calm now it has a connection with one of its children. With me.”

            “But didn’t we just kill the thing?” Sera piped up.

            “No,” Valta said, almost laughing. “The Titan lives. This was… an echo. A guardian. But you silenced it.”

            “Oh,” I said, “sorry about that.”

            Valta smiled at me, gesturing for me to join her at the edge of the platform, away from the others. “Isana,” she said. “It’s our word for lyrium, and we are taught it is a gift from the Stone. But there’s so much more to it than we ever imagined.”

            “It really is Titan’s blood, isn’t it?” I said softly. “Lyrium. The whole of the accepted magic system. Templars. All of it is blood magic.”

            “That might be best kept to yourselves, at least for the moment. Things are uncertain enough as it is.”

            “Yeah, I'm not in any rush to drop that news on people. Feel like there'd be a bit of a 'shoot the messenger' response. And you’re not going to add it to the Memories or anything?”

            “Not at all. I’m staying here.”

            “You’re what? You can’t just live down here!”

            “I can, and I will. I am pure, so the Sha-Brytol will not harm me. The Titan will see to everything else.”

            “No, but… We can’t just walk out and –”

            She laid a hand on my arm. “You can, and you will,” she said with a smile. “I thank you for your concern, but this is my choice.”

            “Listen to her, Emma,” Cassandra said, closer than I’d thought she was, making me jump. “The woman has made her decision.”

            “Thank you,” Valta said.

            Given Cassandra had more experience than me when it came to knowing the mind of stubborn folk, I sighed and nodded. “Alright, fine. Just… take care of yourself. And if you ever find yourself back in the normal Deep Roads, try to get a message to me. I’ll want to know you’re safe.” We began to walk away, leaving her there alone, tiny against those massive rock formations. I paused as something occurred to me, calling back, “Orzammar’s probably going to ask what happened to you. Not to mention your family. What do I tell them?”

            “The truth,” she called back. “You don’t know.”

Chapter Text

I got to spend three whole days at home before they made me leave again, this time making us march out to the Emprise du Lion, a place even more snowy and miserable than Haven had been. At least it was relatively close to home, so we probably wouldn’t be there for as long as our last hellish set of expeditions. Also, that was three days I got to mostly spend in bed with Cullen. That softened the blow a little, though I was even more knackered when we left than when we got back from the mines. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep on the way. Luckily Cary Elkwes had a broad back and a nice smooth gait, because if I'd fallen from that height I'd probably have broken my neck.

            We were only supposed to be going there for community outreach. After Inquisition forces broke up the red templars’ lyrium operation and set the surviving villagers free, it was assumed they’d fled the area, running off to join up with Samson and Corypheus instead. I think that’s the only reason why I was allowed to go there, after the nightmare both my recent trips had turned into. My advisors thought I’d be smiling, shaking hands, and handing out food and blankets to scared, cold villagers.

            Instead, as I was doing all the expected activities, a handsome blond guy with a nice suit of armour and an Orlesian accent hurried over and said, “Your Worship?”

            “Hi, yeah.” I turned, holding out my hand. “Emma Morgan, nice to meet you. Are you… from here?” Something about him was making my brain tickle. He was wearing a suit of armour that was far too fancy for some poor inhabitant of a destitute mining village, to say nothing of the sword on his hip. I had to resist the urge to recoil, suddenly worried I might have just cheerfully gone in for a handshake with an assassin.

            “Michel de Chevin at your service, your Worship,” the guy said, rather than trying to stab me or anything, so that seemed like a good sign. “I saw the Inquisition’s banners from afar. Never expected to see the Herald of Andraste herself.”

            “Well, you know, I heard there were rifts in the area, thought I’d help out while I was passing,” I said with a smile. Something about what he’d said gave my brain another tickle. “Hang on, Michel? You’re Celene’s bodyguard, aren’t you?”

            “I was, your Worship,” he said, his voice tight. “Though that is not who I have been for some time now.”

            Shit, yeah. I suddenly remembered Josephine talking about it, during my pre-Winter Palace training sessions. How Michel had been some top-notch bodyguard until Gaspard made an attempt on Celene’s life. Everyone involved had disappeared for a week or so, and when they came back Michel was disgraced and exiled from the court, though nobody really seemed to know what he’d done to earn it, or what had happened to them all while they’d been away.

            I made a mental note to ask Briala about it, if I ever got her alone. She’d also been present for that whole debacle, allegedly, along with some Dalish guy and a couple of now-dead nobles, and I thought Briala was the one most likely to share the gossip with me. Unless I could somehow track down that Dalish guy, anyway.

            Instead of bringing any of that up, I just smiled and said, “It’s good of you to be here, ser. The people of this village have been through a lot, it’s nice to know they have someone capable of protecting them.”

            “Ah. Yes, your Worship, I am happy to protect the village, though that is not my primary reason for being here. I have been hunting a demon for some time now, a Desire demon that calls itself ‘Imshael’. It has taken up residence at Suledin Keep, in the hills.”

            “Imshael?” Solas broke in, sounding surprised. “A Desire demon that calls himself Imshael, you’re sure?”

            “I am.” Michel’s jaw tightened, and he sighed. “Imshael is free because of a mistake I made. It is my duty to see him destroyed. Now you and your people are here, my lady, perhaps the red templars who guard the keep can be routed.”

            “There’s red templars up there, too?” I asked. “Are you sure? Because my people drove a load of them out of the mine, I was hoping –”

            “As was I, my lady.” He managed a little smile. “But I scouted the keep after your people took the quarry, and there are still many templars inside. Perhaps Imshael has gained their cooperation, or vice versa.”

            “Who is this guy?” I spoke partially to Michel, but I also turned to look at Solas, who seemed troubled. “Imshael, I mean.”

            “A Desire demon, more cunning than anything I have encountered… and I have played the Game,” Michel said. “Imshael has roamed the land for some time now. He will surely have grown in power.”

            “Solas? Any input?” I pressed. When he continued to look reluctant, I said, “You recognised his name, hahren. Knowledge is power, come on.” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and I sighed. “Excuse me, everyone, I need to consult with my Fade expert.”

            I grabbed his elbow and hauled him off to a safe enough distance for us to be able to speak without being overheard, raising my eyebrows at him. Solas shook his head, eventually grudgingly saying, “I have heard of Imshael. You have, as well.”

            “Have I?”

            “He’s one of the Forbidden Ones. Xebenkeck, Gaxkang the Unbound, the Formless One, and Imshael.”

            “Fuuuck.” Now he’d said it, I remembered reading about them, demons older than the Tevinter Imperium who’d apparently taught those bastards about blood magic in the first place. “Is he even killable? Like, is a demon that old something we can fight?”

            “He can be sent back into the Fade, at least, though it will likely be a hard battle. My concern is that he will almost certainly have command over other demons, and should we press him, he will surely send them against the village.”

            “Alright, come on.” I rejoined the others, who’d been making awkward conversation with Michel, and said, “So, we’re going to fight Imshael. Problem is, he’s pretty definitely going to attack the village as soon as we make our move.”

            “The people here are defenceless,” Michel said immediately. “We cannot allow that to happen, they will be slaughtered!”

            “Yeah, we’re going to have to leave some people back here,” I said. “Gael and the gang, plus the local Inquisition team, to be safe, but we’re also going to have to leave at least one mage capable of casting barriers.”

            “I will remain here, da’len,” Solas said, almost before I’d finished speaking. “As much as I wish to be by your side while dealing with a demon of this stature, I feel my presence would be more beneficial in the village.”

            I was thrown for a second, before I remembered something Ameridan’s memories had said down in the Basin, about Telana, a dreamer, suffering from being in the proximity of a powerful spirit. It suddenly occurred to me that being around one of the world's oldest, strongest demons would probably be unpleasant for Solas, even if he’d never come right out and admit that. So, I nodded.

            “Best of luck, hahren.”

            “Be careful, da’len,” he said, looking deeply conflicted. “Imshael is extremely old, very powerful, and likely to be exceedingly cunning. Be wary of anything he should offer you.”

            “I’ll just kill him, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

            Michel looked almost as troubled as he said, “I will remain here also. While I have vowed to see Imshael dead, I am still a chevalier. It is my duty to protect the citizens of Orlais. I trust you to accomplish what I could not, your Worship.”

            At least one of us did.

*

                        Just getting through Suledin turned out to be a nightmare. They had red lyrium giants. Red. Lyrium. Giants. Plural. The first we knew of it was when we came around a corner to find a boulder the size of a horse flying towards us. I actually had to Fade step to get out from under it. So, that was fun.

            Killing red templars was also less simple than it had been. Samson had gotten into my head, with his stupid “my boys are people” shit. Well, no. It wasn’t stupid. That was the problem. The Venatori had chosen to be bastards, after all, but the templars just gotten fed some janky lyrium and shit escalated from there. It didn’t help that Cullen had also hit me with “if things had gone differently, I might have been one of them” not too long ago, like, lads, please. I still need to kill these people. That’s my job. They’re trying to stab me, lads, I can’t have moral qualms, please.

            All told, I wasn’t in the best of moods by the time we made it to the courtyard at the centre of the keep. There was a smattering of giant red lyrium crystals, looking almost like deliberate art installations (all of which were, naturally, bumping out heat and singing quietly), a few red templars who’d reached the hunched, warped state of their condition, and a guy. That’s all he looked like, some nondescript human guy, sort of short, with beady eyes and a scruffy little beard, wearing a long black coat. He grinned as I jogged up.

            “Ah, the hero arrives!” he said cheerfully. “But is it hero, or murderer? It’s so hard to tell.”

            “Are you… I’m here looking for Imshael, is that you?”

            “It is indeed!”

            “Right. Right. Okay. You’re a Desire demon?”

            Imshael heaved a put-upon sigh. “I am a Choice spirit.”

            “Right, yeah. I thought, like, I’ve seen illustrations of Desire demons, they’re all a bit more…” I held my hands in front of my chest.

            The demon let out a snickering little laugh. “Yes. Though if you give me a moment, I could always slip into something a little more gauzy and revealing. Your choice, of course.” He winked at me, and I couldn’t help laughing.

            “Maker preserve us,” Cassandra muttered impatiently.

            Despite Cassandra obviously being in no mood to mess about, I just had to ask, “What’s the difference, anyway? What makes you a Choice spirit, rather than a Desire demon?”

            “I have no interest in feeding people’s petty wants,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s usually just sex or money, and where’s the fun in that? Watching people suffer as a result of their own lustful imaginings only holds so much entertainment, especially when you’re as old as I am. Everyone has desires. It’s the choice to act on them that’s interesting, and not everyone is willing to do that. Watching people agonise over which is the right option, wringing their hands over the cost.” His eyes glittered as he sighed. “That is what’s fun.”

            “Huh.”

            “It is still a demon,” Cassandra said, sounding like she was one second away from kicking me out of the way and going for him. “It must be destroyed.”

            “You’ll let her do that? Even though you like me?” Imshael said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock-scandalisation.

            “I don’t like you,” I snorted.

            “Please, child, I see all those little thoughts leaking out of your head. Oh, don’t feel self-conscious, all you fleshbags do the same thing. Perhaps your…” He trailed off, blinking at me as if surprised. Eventually, sounding thoughtful, he finished with, “Perhaps that mentor of yours could teach you to guard your thoughts.”

            “He’s being nice to me,” I said defensively, turning back to Cassandra, who was looking extremely judgemental. “I struggle with being a dick to people who’re being nice to me, alright, sue me.”

            “What is that?” Imshael had been watching me closely, and now he took a step towards me, head cocked, something vaguely predatory in the angle. “There’s more in you than just your thoughts.”

            “Yeah, this isn’t my body, I –”

            “Not that, girl, please. We’ve all heard that ridiculous story of yours.” He took another step closer. I refused to give him the satisfaction of backing away. Then he broke into a very nasty sort of grin. “Mythal’s Sorrows. That’s it, isn’t it? You have the whispers of the Mother rattling around in there with you.” His gaze dropped to the Anchor and back. “You’re really trying to collect as much old magic in you as possible, aren’t you?”

            “It’s not exactly by choice,” I said. “The magic hand came with the body, and the Well just –”

            “Called to you, did it?” Imshael’s grin widened when I blinked at him. “What’s your name, anyway? You know mine. Given we’re friends now –”

            “We’re not friends!”

            “—I feel like we should be properly acquainted. All I hear is people calling you by your titles. I’m curious.”

            “Emma.”

            He snorted. “Not very elfy. Oh, it’s a word, right enough. And I like that using your name means calling you mine.” I rolled my eyes, and he responded with another sharp-toothed grin. “But elf names tend to be a little more… descriptive. You’re sure you’re not an Emith, Emmaera, Ematuelanuren…”

            “I’m not really an elf, am I? You just said you know what happened to bring me here. And it’s a perfectly valid name where I’m from, thank you.”

            “Is it now, Emma? Is it indeed?”

            “We are wasting time,” Cassandra said.

            The demon’s gaze flicked past me, speculatively eyeing first Cassandra, then the others. “Your friends are all very violent, you know. Aside from that little scrap of Compassion at the end there. But… these aren’t all of your friends, are they?”

            “Yeah, I’ve got more friends than just the people I’ve dragged into this horrible castle, excellent deduction,” I said as witheringly as possible.

            Imshael chuckled. “You left some of them back at the village, I take it? The dreamer?”

            It was enough to send a chill through me, though I did what I could to cover it. “Stop picking at my mind, Imshael.”

            Another step forward, and now the demon was barely an arm’s length away. I heard movement behind me – Cassandra and Bull shifting, like they wanted to pull me back. I held out a hand to ward them off, since he didn’t seem to be attacking.

            “I’m going to offer you a choice, little pup. To show you that things don’t always have to end in blood.”

            “Yeah? What choice is that?”

            “You allow me to walk out of here without violence, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

            Alright, that hadn’t been what I was expecting. As I blinked at him, Bull muttered, “Careful, Boss. You can’t trust a demon.”

            “This one especially,” Cassandra said darkly.

            “The talky ones are always the ones you have to watch,” Varric agreed under his breath. I had to assume the only reason Sera wasn’t joining in was because she was too afraid to catch his attention.

            “What truth?” I asked. “What are you talking about? Something to do with Corypheus?”

            He shook his head slowly. “Can’t give you any hints, I’m afraid. You have to make your choice. Let me walk away… and I’ll tell you the truth. Or, fight me, like your friends want, and never know.”

            I stared into those dark eyes, trying to cover my thoughts as best I could. What truth could he be talking about? There was too much to consider, too many people, too many variables. Considering what I’d already been through with Blackwall… I couldn’t help noticing the way Imshael’s grin widened, just a little, when I thought that, though he hastily covered it when he realised I’d noticed. Was that it, then? Someone else was keeping something from me? The ‘truth’ was that someone else was lying to me?

            As I worked through it, I watched him as closely as possible, looking for any more hints, deliberately considering each of my people in turn. I thought I was being sneaky until he laughed softly.

            “Clever girl,” he murmured.

            With a sigh, I stepped back to a safer distance. “No,” I said. “Whatever this truth is, it’s not worth letting you loose on the world again, sorry.”

            “Oh, it is,” he said quickly. “Trust me, little pup, Emma mine, this is something you’re going to want to know, sooner rather than later.”

            Sighing again, I grabbed my staff. “Sorry, Imshael. Time to go back in your box.”

            “Well,” he said, as his eyes started to glow with an otherworldly light, “that’s your choice to make, I suppose.”

            With that, he turned into a Fear demon, one of the big ones that looked like they had both a squid and a spider bolted onto their heads. I hadn’t been expecting that, honestly, I’d thought we were going to be fighting him as he was. Not only that, but while he was in Fear-mode, he was able to do Fear demon stuff. Namely, sending giant fucking spiders at me.

            “That’s it, da’len,” he laughed as I hastily backed away, frantically doing what I could to fry all his spiders before they reached me. “If you won’t be smart, at least be scared.”

            He turned into a Rage demon next, though didn’t stay that way for long before he shifted into a Pride demon instead. Fucking Pride demons, they’re not the ideal enemy for someone whose whole deal was centred around hitting people with lightning, which I assumed was why he’d gone for it.

            In the end, he charged half the length of the courtyard, shoving past the others, to grab me before I could Fade step aside. One big hand wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my chest as he raised me to the cluster of eyes in the centre of his head. I had to grit my teeth against the tingles of lightning he was sending across my skin, like a continuous static shock.

            “There was no need for any of this,” he growled. “You could have walked away from here… well, perhaps not happy, but more knowledgeable, at least. You made a bad choice, little –”

            Bull did a truly magnificent running jump, burying his axe in the back of Imshael’s head, deep. The demon dropped me as he reached up towards the axe, that frozen Pride demon face somehow still managing to look taken aback, and I rolled aside as he toppled to the ground where I’d been lying.

            “But I only just started,” Imshael said petulantly, before dissolving, presumably making his way back into the Fade.

            “You good, Boss?” Bull asked as he offered me a hand up.

            “Been worse,” I said, rubbing my ribs.

            “That’s what you get for standing around gossiping with bloody demons,” Sera said.

            “Consider me taught,” I said, which seemed to pacify her.

            Cassandra decided we were going to claim the keep as an Inquisition outpost, and Cole and Blackwall agreed to run back down to Sahrnia to get the others up there to join us, in order to hold it until more Inquisition forces could get there to take up proper residence. In one of the side areas off the courtyard, we found a single red templar, curled in on himself in obvious agony.

            “Is he gone?” the templar asked, that unsettling crystalline edge to his voice telling me that most of his insides had been replaced with lyrium already. “Is the demon finally gone?”

            “Yeah,” I said, kneeling beside him. “We sent him back to the Fade. What was he doing here, with the templars?”

            “A garden needs a gardener,” the man said, wincing. “Nurturing, gentle hands, directing the change. Not too fast, not too slow. Just right. Has to be just right.”

            “Perhaps that’s how so many of their soldiers are able to remain mobile, despite their state of infection,” Cassandra said thoughtfully.

            “Maybe now we’ve taken out Imshael, they’ll all turn to stone,” Bull said, adding to the man on the ground, “Uh, sorry.”

            “I know I don’t have much time,” the templar whispered. “Imshael… he said he could take the red out, if I said yes.”

            “He offered to help you?” I said, surprised. Should have known better, really.

            “He liked to watch the agony. He liked to play. We were his garden. Consent, and live. Deny, and be consumed. Oh, but what he wanted… anything but that. I chose the red. I chose… Will you stay with me? I don’t wish to die alone.”

            “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, it’s alright. You rest. I’ll sit right here.”

            It wasn’t long before he stopped breathing. I held out a hand, and Varric hauled me to my feet as Dorian said, “You know, any other day, he’d have happily cut your throat and left you to bleed to death in the snow.”

            “I know,” I said. “But today, he was just a guy who was scared of dying alone.” I shrugged. “We’ve got to be better than them, Dee. Or what’s the fucking point of it all?”

            The others set up camp while I clambered onto a nearby wall, watching them closely with my arms wrapped around my knees. Eventually Solas arrived, along with Michel and Gael’s people. After talking to Cassandra for a while, he climbed up to sit beside me.

            “Are you alright?”

            “How’s the village?” I asked. “Did you and Michel keep the place safe?”

            “Yes, not a single villager lost, nor anyone else. I was right in thinking Imshael would send demons to attack the village, but he sent only Shades. We dealt with them easily.” He elbowed me gently. “Are you alright? According to Cassandra, Imshael said something that may have shaken you.”

            “He said… It isn’t what he said, really, it’s what he implied, it…” I sighed. “He told me he owed me a truth, and then he was reading my thoughts, so I used that to try to catch a hint from him, you know? Watching his reactions?”

            “Cunning, da’len,” he said with a smile.

            “And then when I thought about Blackwall betraying me, he… I got the feeling that whatever this truth was, it was to do with someone else screwing me over too.”

            “Or he was simply lying to you in order to convince you to spare him,” Solas said.

            “But what if he wasn’t? What if… I love them all, I do, but I’d never have said Blackwall would screw me over, and look what happened there. Sera’s completely unpredictable, Dorian’s a Tevinter. Bull seems to have broken off from the Qunari, but what if that’s just a ploy to make me let my guard down? Varric swears he’s forgiven me for Hawke, but what if he’s just playing the long game? Cass will put the Chantry before me, I don’t doubt it, and Leliana’s got schemes within schemes, and Cullen… Cullen’s a lyrium addict with a history of hating mages. As for Viv, she’d probably sell me out for a nice hat. You, Cole, and Josie are the only people with no reason to turn on me, unless Josie turns out to secretly be in league with the Crows or something. And I suppose Blackwall, too, since he’s already fucked me over.”

            “Technically, Blackwall never betrayed you.” When I gave him a disbelieving look, he smiled. “I cannot say finding out the truth about him did not hurt me, either. Despite his fondness for encouraging Sera in her jests, I found… a commonality with him. Something that changed when I learned the truth. But he never betrayed you, Emma. He kept secrets about his past, but he was true to you, once he joined your cause. The others are the same. Whatever Imshael taunted you with, their betrayal would not be part of it. I am certain of that.”

            “I just –”

            “I know. But you should not worry, Emma. Not about that.” He put an arm around me. “And you should not speak about Cullen that way. He loves you, as much as I have ever seen anyone love another. I understand the impulse to protect oneself from a love like that, to fear that vulnerability. But you should not close yourself off.”

            “Thus endeth the lesson?” I said with a wan little smile.

            I’d hoped to make him laugh, but he only sat there in silence with his arm around me. I watched the people below, my friends, as they went about their business, and I decided to believe he was right. Imshael had been fucking with me. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

“Fancy a trip to the tavern?” I asked as I strolled into the rotunda. “Varric just said he’s setting up another grand game of Wicked Grace.”

            “Hopefully the commander will retain his armour this time,” Solas said.

            “You might hope for that,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows as I went to sit on the edge of his desk. He laughed and shook his head, but I couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t given me an actual answer. “Official word’s just come down that Cass is going to be made the next Space Pope, once all this Corypheus stuff is over. Hence the Wicked Grace sesh, we’re celebrating.”

            “I trust you will have a fine time.”

            I kicked my heels for a moment, watching him. “You do know I’m inviting you along as well, yeah? That’s the whole point of my little visit, I’m not in here bragging.”

            “Ah.” He looked down at the book in his hands. “I’m afraid I shall have to decline, da’len.”

            “Solas,” I sighed. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” When he continued to look reluctant, I shook my head. “I thought we were all mates. I know you and Sera don’t see eye to eye, and Blackwall sometimes gets a bit teasy, but you get on well enough with everyone else, don’t you?”

            “They are my friends,” he said, though he couldn’t seem to look at me. “You are family to me now.”

            “And we don’t know how many more chances we’ll get to just hang out together like this, so why not come along?”

            He mouthed silently for a moment, then shook his head. “It will only make things harder,” he said, barely above a whisper.

            “Make what harder? What are you talking about? Oi.” I poked him in the shoulder. “Talk to me, come on.”

            Solas looked up at me, something desperately sad in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Dorian peered over the railing above us and called, “Did I hear someone mention Wicked Grace?”

            Sighing, I hitched on a smile to look up at him. “I did indeed! You in?”

            “When have I ever not been? Wait there.”

            I looked back at Solas, who’d gone back to staring at his book. “Are you sure?” I asked.

            “Have a good time.”

            “If you want to talk about –”

            “Have a good time with your friends, da’len.”

            Dorian strolled in, offering me his arm, and we headed off to the pub together.

*

                        Rolling over in bed the next morning, I was still surprised when my flailing arm slapped across Cullen’s bare torso. It also startled him awake – I suppose we’d both been single for quite a while by then, habits are hard to change and all that – so neither of us had the most elegant start to the day. I yelped, Cullen jerked away from me like I was red hot, it was a whole thing. Still, once we realised what was going on, it soothed the shock quite nicely.

            “Good morning, Mr ‘I managed to keep my clothes on for once, at least for the game’.”

            Cullen chuckled. “I fear that might be a tad too long for a nickname. Not to mention more than a little undignified.”

            I snorted. “You haven’t heard what people have been calling me. In comparison, yours is… refined.”

            “Normally I’d defer to your judgement, my lady.” He trailed his hand up and down my side, hip to shoulder, shoulder to hip. “Maybe, on this occasion, I can do something to change your mind?”

            I grinned, wriggling closer. “Hmm. I might be persuaded, you know. Now,” I tapped my chin, “what could you possibly do –”

            He kissed me, hand sliding lower with teasing slowness. Lower and lower, until –

            With a crack like the loudest roll of thunder I’d ever heard, and an earthquake almost strong enough to throw us out of bed, the entire sky outside turned a roiling green. I hissed as the Anchor responded, sending painful tingles of light crackling across the surface of my hand.

            “Fuck,” I growled, shaking it out, as if that would help, “that cockblocking bastard!”

            “It’s the Breach,” Cullen said, his voice leaden with dread. “Corypheus has reopened the Breach.”

            “I’ll put some clothes on,” I muttered.

*           

                        The Inquisition forces, at least the ones who had already returned from the south, were massing in the lower courtyard, while my team, the Chargers, and Gael’s crew were stacking up in the upper courtyard. They turned to look as Cullen and I briskly walked down the stairs towards them – walked, not ran. The ‘nobody wants to see the boss running’ lesson was fixed in my brain.

            Taking the deepest breath I could, I launched into the speech all those staring eyes were clearly expecting of me. “This is it, ladies and gentlemen!” I’d stopped on the little platform that looked out over both courtyards without realising I was doing it, instinctively addressing the masses as well as my inner circle. Of course I’d get better at that shit once the world started ending. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. What this whole organisation was created for. Our people in the south have destroyed Corypheus’ army, so today it’ll finally come down to me and him. But that,” I pointed at the Breach, “means there will also be demons pouring into the world, and that’s where I need all of you.

            “I know of no better organisation to deal with this. I can think of no finer group of people to have out there watching my back. We can do this. We can end Corypheus today. We’ve already done incredible things, all of us, every person here, and I know we can make it through this one last push. Today, we can accomplish what this Inquisition was called to do. I believe in us. Who’s with me?”

            The answering cheer was deafening, so I couldn’t have done that badly, at least. I turned and pulled Cullen into a kiss (eliciting another cheer), taking a moment to look at him, really look at him, properly take in that face I loved. Just in case. He rested a hand on my cheek, and I realised he must have been doing the same thing.

            “They’ll need you to organise them, won’t they?” I said quietly.

            “Yes,” he sighed.

            “Then off you go, Commander. We’ll follow along. And Cullen –”

            “I’ll be as safe as I can, so long as you promise the same,” he said with a smile.

            I smiled back. “I was going to say I love you, actually. But that’s good to hear, all the same.”

            “Oh! Yes. I love you, too.”

            Another kiss and he was gone, pausing briefly to speak to Cassandra and Leliana. I stayed where I was for the moment, looking up at that roiling sky, steadying my breathing as best I could. Once I thought I was calm enough not to have a panic attack in front of everyone, I walked down into the middle of my people.

            “Ready to kick it in the ass, Boss?”

            “Damn straight I am. Listen, you lot, what I said up there goes triple for all of you. The whole lot of you mean everything to me. It’s not just been an honour, it’s been a genuine pleasure.”

            “Back at you, Dreamer,” Varric said, patting me on the back.

            Since we couldn’t leave right away, what with the lower courtyard still jammed full of people, I took the opportunity to hug everyone. Well, everyone except Morrigan, who gave me such a look I skipped her and went straight to Vivienne, who at least allowed me to kiss her on the cheek, Orlesian style.

            “Alright, ramblers,” I said, trying to look like I was rubbing sleep from my eyes, not anything else. “Let’s get rambling.”

*

                        We arrived at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes in force, only to find the place swarming with demons, dozens of our advance troops already dead, and Corypheus standing alone on what was left of the temple’s steps. He gave me a mocking bow as we arrived, elven orb clutched in one gangly hand.

            “I knew you would come,” he said, before gesturing and sending the entire temple, along with a fair chunk of the hillside it was set in, flying upwards. It left most of my people on the ground, only those who’d been closest to me – Dorian, Solas, Cole, and Bull – coming along for the ride. Corypheus smirked. “You have been most –”

            “Shut the fuck up!” I screamed it. Couldn’t seem to help it. Seeing those bodies on the ground, all those people, my people, who’d died horribly rather than give in to that bastard, all because they believed in me? My blood wasn’t boiling, it had combusted. I was summoning the Mythal-dragon as hard as I could, but honestly, I felt like I might have been able to do the job without backup right then. “I’m so fucking sick of dickheads making speeches at me! I don’t give a shit what you have to say! I don’t give a shit about your delusions of grandeur! It’s your fault I’m here, it’s your fault I’m never going to see my family again, and I’m going to make you fucking pay for it!”

            Corypheus looked hilariously offended. I got the feeling nobody in his very long life had ever spoken to him that way. My lips were pulled back into a fixed grin, my eyes were bugging out of my head, and as his dragon crawled over the ruined masonry behind him, I realised I was ready to go for the thing with nothing but hands and feet and teeth if necessary. I threw out my arms and bellowed an ancient battle cry of my people.

            “Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!”

            The lyrium dragon leapt, all four sets of claws aimed right at me, only for the Mythal-dragon to swoop up and around the flying stone, tackling the monster off the side. With that taken care of, I turned back to Corypheus.

            “A dragon,” he sneered, “how clever of –”

            I blasted him with lightning, sending him stumbling backwards. Solas caught my arm as I made to charge after Corypheus, looking more than a little concerned as he said, “He won’t be truly vulnerable until his dragon is dead.”

            “I bet he can still feel pain,” I said through my grin.

            He shook my arm sharply. “Be rational, da’len! If you wear yourself out before –”

            “Okay.” I took a deep breath, shaking my head sharply to try to clear it. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” I looked around at the others. “No heroes. We harry him, and we wait for the dragon to do her thing.”

            “As you say.” Dorian squeezed my shoulder, and we were off, chasing that prick as he ran from us, occasionally stopping to offer some lacklustre resistance.

            Things were going pretty well, until the dragons fell out of the sky, the Mythal-dragon seemingly breaking her neck on impact. That left the lyrium dragon, though Mythal’s dragon had at least ripped most of the crystal plating from it, leaving it looking even more raw and painful than ever. Also more vulnerable. I looked at Bull, who was already raising his axe with a beaming smile.

            “You shouldn’t have, Boss.”

            “Don’t say I never take you anywhere fun,” I said, patting him on the back as he sprinted towards the monster, bellowing something in Qunlat.

            The dragon died. There was more to it than that, of course, but that was the upshot of it all. We killed the dragon, and a ball of writhing maroon energy ascended from the beast’s corpse. After it drifted out of sight, we heard Corypheus cry out in fury.

            “Let's get this done,” I said, starting to run.

            He threw everything he had at us, which turned out to be almost hilariously pathetic. For all his age, for all his ego, he was barely any harder to put down than some of the stronger Venatori we’d fought up to that point, and he was a hell of a lot easier to fight than his dragon had been. Still, with one last burst of power he sent us flying back… just not too far.

            Stumbling away from me, he raised the orb above his head and started shouting, “Not like this! I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the Ages! Dumat, Ancient Ones, I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now!”

            Throughout this little display I’d been picking myself up… and realising something. He wasn’t just holding the orb, he was struggling with it. The Anchor was thrumming with power, calling to the orb, and the orb was responding. Grinning, I held out my hand, focusing power through the Mark, and the fancy metal ball shot into my hand like an iron filing going for a magnet. It smashed into his jaw on the way past it, seemingly dislocating it, which finally served to shut him up. I walked over to him as he fell to his knees, his unhinged jaw dangling grotesquely.

            “You wanted to go into the Fade, yeah?”

            Following some instinct, I laid my hand on his head and opened rifts. Not a big one, like back at Adamant, but dozens, hundreds, of little ones. Each barely an inch long. All inside his body. Corypheus screamed wretchedly as he was messily siphoned into the Fade in pieces, and I smiled through it all. I couldn’t seem to stop. Once he was finally dead, I aimed the orb at the Breach and willed, wanted, wished…

            Then we were falling.

*

                        No idea how we all survived. Magic, presumably, magic which saw the temple descend and land pretty much exactly where it used to be, without killing all of us on board, or everyone on the ground. Once everything stopped moving, I rolled onto my back, staring up at the now-calm sky. No more Breach. No more swirling green clouds. Just a flickering bluish phosphorescence, like a scar made from the aurora.

            “Da’len, are you alright?” Solas asked, kneeling beside me and helping me sit up.

            “Surprisingly so,” I said with a laugh. “We won!”

            “We did indeed.” He was smiling as he spoke, but his face fell as his eyes strayed past me. “No. The orb.”

            I turned to look, and there it was, the elven orb, shattered into pieces and clearly out of power. “Oh no. Shit, Solas, I’m so sorry. I thought I had it, I just –”

            “It is not… your fault.” Seeing I was going to keep apologising regardless, he pulled me into a hug. “Not your fault, Emma.”

            “I should have –”

            “No.” He flinched as multiple voices began to call my name. “Listen to me – whatever happens now, always remember, I love you.”

            “What are you…” I sat back, but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “Solas, you’re starting to freak me out, what –”

            “They are calling you, Emma,” he said softly, turning to start collecting the pieces of broken relic. “You should not keep them waiting.”

            They wouldn’t stop calling me, and he wouldn’t look at me anyway. Thinking he probably just needed a moment, I squeezed his shoulder as I passed and hurried to the stairs, which Dorian, Cole, and Bull had already descended to wait among the others. It looked like we hadn’t lost too many people, and none of the inner circle were so much as injured. I broke into a grin as I realised how many of us had made it through.

            “It’s over?” Vivienne said. “How lovely.”

            “And the sky is healed,” Cole said, “healthy, whole. There’s just that left to remember.” He pointed to the sky-scar. When I held my arms out to him, he ran right over to throw himself on me, hugging me tight.

            “What do we do now?” Cassandra asked.

            I smiled. “We go home.”

Chapter Text

There was a party, when we got back. A big one, with lots of fancy guests who’d allegedly been helpful in some way or another, though personally I’d never seen half of them before. Still, Josephine promised me they were due their credit, and I certainly wasn’t going to argue with her.

            At least one person who’d been there the whole time wasn’t present at the party, however. Solas had disappeared. Nobody had seen any sign of him since I’d left him in the temple, picking up orb pieces, despite Leliana having her people out searching for him. I was worried, especially after our last conversation. Worried that the loss of the orb, after everything we’d gone through to get it, had driven him to… something drastic.

            Solas wasn’t the only one not attending, though at least the other person wasn’t missing. Morrigan had pulled me aside before I walked into the main hall. “Kieran and I are leaving, Inquisitor. I thank you for your hospitality, but ‘tis time for us to move on.”

            “You don’t have to.” I felt weirdly bereft at the thought, more than the situation honestly warranted – she’d always been a bit frosty with me, even though we got on better than she did with any of the others. I think with Solas having already seemingly dipped, then Morrigan immediately ducking out too, it all felt a bit ominous. “We’re happy to have you here, both of you. Cole will be sorry to see Kieran go.”

            “As Kieran is to lose his friend,” she said. “I truly thank you. But we have never remained static for long, and I do not intend to begin now. Soon you will be moving on yourself, I imagine. I am merely getting a head start, as it were.”

            “I don’t know how I could ever leave this place,” I said, running my hand over the wall.

            “But you will.” She hesitantly put a hand on my arm, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch me. “I would not be averse to your staying in contact with us. For Kieran’s sake, of course. He seems rather fond of you, and he is friends with your boy. We could hardly excise ourselves entirely from each other’s lives.”

            “Well. You’ll always know where to find me.”

            “Indeed.” She hesitated, before giving me the most awkward hug imaginable. It was like being grabbed by a clothes rack. “Farewell, Inquisitor. For now.”

            “You might as well call me Emma, at this point.”

            “Emma, then.”

            With that, she was gone, the second person to walk out on me. And Cassandra was due to leave for her coronation in the next few days. It really was all over.

            “Oh, melancholy,” Dorian said as I dropped into a seat near him, Cole, and the Bull. “That’s not a face one likes to see at a party.”

            “She’s sad because Morrigan is leaving,” Cole said, “and it makes her think everyone else will leave her.”

            “Thinking louder than the Anchor again, am I?”

            “No, Kieran said goodbye to me earlier, and I know you.”

            “Aw, Baby Bird.” I patted his cheek. “Anyway, yeah, that about sums it up.”

            “Well, hey Boss, me and the Chargers got nowhere else to be!”

            “And I can probably delay my return to Tevinter for, oh, a good few months yet.”

            “Really appreciate it, lads.” I leaned against Dorian until I caught sight of Vivienne, who was waving me over. Sighing, I said, “Duty calls. This bit I’m not going to miss.”

            “We’ll have a tavern day tomorrow,” Dorian said. “All of us, just talking and playing cards. Good clean fun. What do you say?”

            I kissed him on top of his head, planting one each on Bull and Cole for good measure. “I genuinely cannot wait.”

            Vivienne was standing with Briala, who I was surprised to see. “Shall we step aside for a chat, darling?”

            They led me into the rotunda, where Fiona and a handful of other senior enchanters were waiting. I barely noticed them at first. I instinctively looked up at the frescoes as I walked in, and realised Solas had sketched on the wall, in preparation for adding another panel – a wolf standing over a dead dragon, near as I could tell. I never had gotten around to learning to shift into a wolf. Just like Solas might never get around to finishing the fresco.

            “So glad you could be present for this, my dear.” Vivienne laid a gentle hand on my arm, bringing me back to the situation at hand. “It was your idea that sparked this, after all.”

            “Oh! Good? Sorry, what –”

            “The University of Enchanters, of course.”

            It turned out that, as much as they might have cordially hated each other, my idea to make Circles actual institutes of learning, with the intention of integrating mages into society, was something they could… well, not agree on, but maybe something they could not rip each other’s throats out over. Vivienne could still leverage her power for political standing, while Fiona could guide and protect up-and-coming mages.

            “Celene has given the endeavour her full approval,” Briala said. “The first centre of magical learning will be based in Orlais, but they will of course take in all mages who wish to be trained safely and with decency.”

            “That’s awesome,” I said. “I can’t believe my silly little idea actually has legs.”

            “It is a good compromise,” Fiona said, smiling wryly as she added, “Meaning no one is entirely happy, but nor are they opposed enough to try to prevent it from happening.”

            “Best anyone can hope for,” I said. “Well, I hope it goes without saying, but you will of course have the full support of the Inquisition.”

            “I never doubted it, my dear.” Vivienne squeezed my forearm again. “As the Inquisition will always have the support of the University.”

            “Perhaps one day you might even be a guest lecturer, Inquisitor,” Fiona said.

            “I’m sure the kids would love that,” I snorted.

            “Come along, Fiona dear!” Vivienne adjusted her fancy headdress and set her shoulders back. “Time to mingle.”

            Fiona gave me a long-suffering sort of look that I felt in my soul, but she and the other enchanters trailed out after Vivienne all the same. I leaned back against Solas’ desk and took a deep breath, only to realise Briala was still there. She smiled and came to sit on the desk beside me, looking up at the fresco.

            “I had a strange elven mentor, you know,” she said. “Mine was Dalish, more or less, but he was also a mage, and he too simply disappeared one day with barely a word.”

            “Who knew they came in batches?” I said, and we both laughed softly. “Did yours ever come back?”

            “Not yet. I still have some hope I will see him again, but… Not yet. Felassan. That was his name.”

            “Assan is arrow in elven, yeah? So he was…”

            “Slow Arrow. He told me a story about it, once. How a village was once under siege by a great beast, and so they begged Fen’Harel for help to kill it. Fen’Harel saw the beast and knew it would slay him if he fought it, so instead he fired an arrow into the sky at dawn and left. The beast came back that dusk, and ate the warriors, then the women and elderly, but before it could eat the children Fen’Harel’s slow arrow fell back down and killed the beast. Because Fen’Harel never promised to save the villagers, you see. He only promised to kill the beast, and his slow arrow did just that.”

            “Huh. Duly noted, if I ever bump into Fen’Harel, I’ll be sure to word any requests for favours very carefully.”

            Briala laughed and patted my hand, and I was tremendously glad Sera wasn’t there to make fun of me over it. “It’s good to see you again, for a happier occasion.”

            “You too. Listen, Leliana’s looking for Solas. Want me to ask her to keep an eye out for Felassan, too?”

            “That is kind of you to offer, but my people have been seeking him for some time now.” She cocked her head. “I can ask them to search for your Solas, while we’re on the subject.”

            “I wouldn’t say no, thank you.”

            “You are very welcome.” She hopped up, kissing me on the cheek. “Enjoy your evening, Emma. Don’t forget to try the little cakes.”

            That was the best advice I got all night. I tried a lemony one first, started making sounds not suitable for public places (but like, what else is new?), and then filled a napkin with about a dozen of them for later. The only witness to my petty larceny was Sera, and her silence was easily bought with a few extra cakes thrown her way.

*

                        “Here you go.” The next morning Cullen brought me one of my purloined pastries for breakfast. He rested himself on the railing beside me, not quite daring to swing his legs over the vast drop the way I had as he started on his own breakfast cake.

            “That’s how you know I really love you,” I said, smiling. “I’m willing to share my ill-gotten treats.”

            “I consider myself blessed indeed.” He leaned in and kissed me, both of us tasting of cake, lemon and strawberries.

            “We’re having a pub day today, me and the gang. Cabot’s going to set up an extra bar down by the stables for the day for everyone else, and we’re just commandeering the Herald’s Rest. Fancy it?”

            “The whole day?”

            “Have we got anything else to do?”

            He looked out thoughtfully at the sunrise. “You know what? You’re right. There is nothing on the books for today that cannot be done another day. Perhaps we could view it as a going away party for Cassandra.”

            “Works for me! ‘We’re having a private party to celebrate our friend becoming the new Divine’ sounds a hell of a lot classier than ‘the people in charge are occupying the tavern for a day-long lock-in, so off you jolly well fuck’.” I smiled when that made him laugh. “You know, I… I actually can’t believe we’re both alive, after everything that’s happened. We’re all alive. I’m glad and all, obviously, but holy shit, what are the chances?”

            “I think that might be why I’m so willing to take a break,” he admitted. “We’re alive. Whatever happens next, all I care about is that we face it together.”

            I flopped down the rail in a deeply unsexy fashion until I was essentially sat in his lap, beaming up at him. “Same.”