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Chapter Text

Ebrisa awoke with a start in unfamiliar surroundings. Panic set in that she had been captured by templars at last, but the lack of guards and restraints slowly lifted the fear and drowsiness. There was an elf in the small room, almost as surprised as she was, but the stranger quickly scurried away. Ebrisa strained to make out her hurried words, but all she could catch was Chantry before she was left alone.

The woman swung her feet off the bed and lifted her hand to rub her forehead, but paused at the green gash glowing on her palm. It was then she noticed the throbbing ache and a sense of dread washed over her. “That's right... the Breach.” She had hoped that fixing the rip in the Veil would also remove the strange mark, but it seemed that was too much to ask. Ebrisa stood slowly, feeling off balance with both her magic and her movements, and searched a nearby pile of outerwear for a pair of gloves. They were thin, but nicer than she recalled wearing in a long while. She pulled them on quickly to hide the glowing disfiguration and opened the single door of the warm room. Bright light and cold wind hit Ebrisa's face, causing her to wince and shut her eyes reflectively. When she blinked them back open, a mass of people stared at her in awe. She quickly lowered her eyes and stepped out of the cottage, recalling vaguely the camp layout.

“To the left and up the stairs...” Ebrisa quietly told herself in order to force her feet to move. She was used to people murmuring about her, but they never stared at her so intensely before - it was as thought these people were trying to look inside her. Ebrisa tuned out their voices, a skill she had mastered years ago, and moved through the snowy path of Haven. Only when she reached the Chantry door did she dare look up. Her heart sank at the sight of the still torn sky, swirling with green light.

She had failed.

The main hall of the building was empty save for the resounding echo of two voices arguing. Their anger bounced off the stone walls as if the sounds themselves were trying to fight. Slowly, and with a pit building in her stomach, Ebrisa walked towards the door of the main chamber. It came open with a mighty push and a noisy creak, announcing her and quieting the voices.

“Seize her. I want her bound!” The elderly man she'd meet briefly commanded upon seeing her enter. The woman tensed, but made no attempt to flee. If she recalled correctly, the man was a Chantry official.

“Delay that order!” Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast interjected before the armored guards on either side of the door had a chance to move. She dismissed them and the arguing began again. Ebrisa fidgeted by the now closed door and chewed her lower lip.

So they were deciding her fate then. She had failed to seal the Breach and despite the strange voices they heard at the temple ruins, she could not remember if she had caused the explosion or not. All she could recall was why she had gone to the Conclave in the first place...

The Nevarran Seeker slammed a thick tome onto the table with a resounding thud and the rightful quiet of the Chantry returned. “This is a writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act.” She ran her hand lightly over the embossed cover, the Eye of the Maker emboldening her to proceed. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She marched over to the chancellor, each step doubling her confidence as she pledged to not only find out what had happened to the sky and fix it, but also to bring Divine Justinia's murderer to justice. “We will restore order!” She paused, having nearly backed the man against a wall, and looked at him with an angry determination. “With, or without, your approval!” The man huffed and took a moment to collect himself before leaving the room.

Ebrisa's head was reeling. Had that really just happened? Did the Seeker not only reform an ancient order but drive away the only real link she had to the Chantry? What could they accomplish with just the numbers outside these walls?

“We can not wait. We have to act,” Cassandra sighed to her hooded comrade. She squared her shoulders and faced the far end of the room. “We need your help. Please, Champion, lead us.” Her eyes were earnest, almost desperate.

The mage jumped with a start. Champion? She followed the still rigid woman's gaze to the darker side of the room where a figure leaned against the wall. Ebrisa hadn't even noticed her until she uncrossed her arms and moved further into the candle light.

“Oh boy,” the dark haired woman sighed. “Why do I get the feeling this is why you really tried so hard to find me?”

“Champion, I did not think it would get this far, but I-”

The woman raised a hand. “At ease Seeker. And could we do away with that champion stuff? I think the title's gone stale.”

“Very well,” Cassandra cleared her throat and set her arms behind her back. “Lady Deavelle Hawke, would you-”

“Ugh! Who told you my first name? Just call me Inquisition-leader-person or whatever.”

“Inquisitor,” the hooded woman offered with a smirk.

“Ah. That does sound better,” Hawke tilted her head slightly. “Thank you, Leliana.”

Ebrisa began to back away. The Left and Right Hands of the Divine, an ancient order, The Champion of Kirkwall, a hole in the sky? This was all far too important for her to be near. She unwittingly backed into a shelf and knocked over several books, alerting the powerful woman to her presence and panic.

“And where do you think you're going, missy?” Hawke smiled coyly and placed her hands on her hips.

“Ah, I was, no-nowhere,” the mage stammered out quickly. “Its just you all seem to be capable of handling this Inquisition, so-”

“Speaking of handling, you better stay put.”

Ebrisa froze and lowered her eyes. “Yes, Lady Inquisitor.”

A slow smirk spread across Hawke's face. “You know, I am really liking that more than I thought.”

“Like what?” Leliana chuckled. “Scaring mages?”

Hawke looked at the hooded Orlesian, then back at Ebrisa. Her eyes softened and she walked over to the younger woman. “What's your name? We can't keep calling you the prisoner, after all.”

“Ebrisa... Trevelyan,” the mage managed to get out after a few tries. These women were intimidating. Leliana's eyes narrowed slightly and she looked the mage over more carefully.

“Well, Trevelyan,” Hawke began. “We may look like we have this all settled, being experienced women of action and all, but we need you and,” she carefully took hold of Ebrisa's forearm with one hand. “We need this!” Swiftly, she pulled the glove from the glowing hand and smiled, the mage squeezing her hand closed in response. “You see, your hand is the only way we have right now of closing all of these pesky tears in the Veil.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Inquisitor, I believe you are over compensating. She is not a child, you needn't sugar-coat things.”

Ebrisa was frightened. Running up that mountain pass and closing those tears was the closest she had ever been to a demon. When they reached the temple and faced that huge pride monster, she could barely move. Leliana's archers kept it from getting too close, but she was still terrified. They wanted her to go out and close more rifts? Fight more demons?

But then... she did have some means of defending herself. What if a rift opened in a village? What if shop keeps and farmers were attacked? What if children were? The very thought heated her skin and Ebrisa closed her eyes to calm herself.

“Magic exists to serve man,” Ebrisa finally said as she raised her eyes to meet and hold Hawke's gaze. “I will do whatever you ask of me and use this hand to heal this world.”

“Poetic,” Hawke smiled and offered back the glove before turning to Cassandra. “I believe we have work to do.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following week was one of the busiest Haven had seen in a long, long time. Ravens came and went at all hours and fresh recruits began to trickle in. Leliana saw to it that an official ceremony was held to announce Hawke's new position and a mighty cheer rang out through the snow covered village as she hoisted the polished, and impractical, sword high in the air. Surely, with the mighty Champion of Kirkwall leading the Inquisition, they would triumph.

Ebrisa promised she would help them, but so far they had no task for her. She saw others huddled in cold tents and had offered to switch quarters – especially after she was moved from the storage hut to a more structurally sound cottage further within the walls – but they always refused her. Feeling useless, the mage took to reporting to the requisitions officer. Threnn treated her like any other volunteer and honestly needed all the help she could get. Days were spent collecting local herbs and evenings distributing chopped wood to the several fire pits around camp. Eventually, people began to accept her offered aid and Ebrisa relished each chance to help. It was after one of those random tasks that Cassandra came to fetch her at the apothecary.

“Lady Trevelyan, come with me, please.” The Seeker had a slightly uncomfortable look on her face.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Ebrisa handed Adan the final slips of notes and followed quickly behind the warrior. She kept her head bowed and struggled to keep up with Cassandra's long strides. As they entered the Chantry building, a rouge spark danced over Ebrisa's glove and she gripped her wrist.

“Does it trouble you?” The Seeker slowed to walk beside her.

The mage bit her lip and paused. She dared not tell them her hand would thrum with a dull ache or flare up with a jolt of pain from time to time. They had bigger things to worry about than one mage. “It didn't seal the Breach,” she said at length. Cassandra gave her a comforting smile and spoke of their hopes to try again. Was that why they had called for her? Ebrisa was unsure if she had the strength to do so right now.

When she first woke up chained in the cellar, she felt the power of the Fade flooding her and the magic aura she was used to muffled greatly. Each day she felt her own magic and that of the Fade pulling back and forth, making her unbalanced. In truth, she hadn't cast any spells since their first attempt in the ruins, fearing what would happen.

They entered the main chamber at the back of the hall and Ebrisa froze. In addition to Leliana and Hawke, two more people stood around the large table, waiting for them.

“Perfect,” Hawke grinned widely and set the parchment she was reading down on a large map of southern Thedas. “It's been long overdue, Trevelyan, but let me introduce you to some very helpful people. You, of course, know our straight-arrow Seeker Cassandra and spymaster Leliana, the Nightingale.” Hawke paused to smirk. “I've only just remembered her nickname myself.”

“Birds of a feather, Inquisitor,” Leliana smiled cooly.

“Lets have you keep singing and I'll keep finding prey,” Hawke laughed and motioned to a tanned noblewoman in glittering silks at her left. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and main 'keep-foot-out-of-mouth-politically' person.”

Josephine curtsied briefly. “A pleasure, my lady. Also, I believe the Inquisitor is trying to say diplomat.” She turned to Hawke with an amused grin. “It sounds less 'foot-in-mouth'.”

Hawke smiled widely and shrugged. “You're the expert.” She swung her hand around to motion to the only man in the room. “Curly here is the leader of our forces.”

The man groaned in annoyance and shook his head. “Inquisitor, please, you know I dislike that nickname.”

“Oh fine, spoiled sport.” Hawke tossed her hands up in the air and sighed. “This is Commander Cullen, an ally from my time in Kirkwall. He's come through for me a lot and I have every confidence he will continue to do so.” She punched him in the arm lightly. “Better?”

He nodded approvingly and smirked. “Yes, that was a much more dignified introduction. Start with that one next time.” Cullen turned to the mage and inclined his head. “Well meet, Lady Trevelyan.”

Ebrisa stood silently, mouth slightly agape. Of course she knew who these people were, she had been in Haven for weeks. Josephine could always be found in her office next door speaking with just about everyone. Merchants, officials, laborers – they all came to her at one time or another. For such a refined woman to stay as glamorous as she looked in such an isolated place was remarkable. And the commander? How could anyone in Haven miss him? His voice could be heard ordering training sessions and guard duties from dawn to dusk. He was an imposing presence outside the village gates and never seemed to stop. An intense man, to be sure. Ebrisa struggled to restrain her trembling as he rested his arm on the hilt of his sword. Most of all, she knew that -

“I was a templar. I know what they're capable of.”

“Yeah, Cullen, but,” Hawke twisted the ends of her short hair in thought. “They aren't talking to us. No one is talking to us. We might not have a choice in where our help comes from.”

Ebrisa lowered her head. It was always templars versus mages, even while trying to close the Breach. She couldn't figure out why Hawke had called her in if they couldn't try to seal it yet. Perhaps the Inquisitor was just introducing everyone to her advisors and was only now getting to Ebrisa. The mage covered her left hand with her right and waited quietly to be dismissed. The sooner she was out of the room, the sooner she could breath normal again.

“The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition,” Josephine turned to Ebrisa, “and you, specifically.”

The mage frowned, but kept her head lowered. That wasn't really something new – the sisters at the Circle always seemed to sneer at her, but to be officially denounced? What did she do? The confusion was plainly displayed on her face.

“You see,” Hawke explained, “some people are calling you The Herald of Andraste.”

“It frightens the Chantry,” Josephine added. “The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy and us heretics for harboring you.”

“I'm sorry... the Herald...?” Ebrisa's confused expression grew. “How am I the Herald of Andraste?” People knew she was a mage, right?

When she had stepped out of the Fade, the people there had seen the figure of a woman behind her, wreathed in flame. That, along with her power to seal the rifts and heal the sky marked her as special. Rumors and happenstance lead to divine calling? It suddenly made sense to Ebrisa. The looks people gave her weren't because they were seeing a mage with a glowing hand, but because they saw a holy savior. They definitely did not see her.

“Catchy title, right?” Hawke's voice cut through her thoughts and Ebrisa looked up, noticing the room was waiting for a response.

“Its... overwhelming. I don't think I could live up to that.”

“Well, I'm the Champion of a city in ruins,” Hawke shrugged. “What's important isn't what you are called, but what you being called that does for the people. It gives them hope and something to believe in. Right now, that's something the world desperately needs.”

Ebrisa stared at the Inquisitor and processed what she'd said. A smile slowly made its way onto the mage's face and she nodded. “Though I do not think I am worthy of the title, I will try my best to support that hope.” Josephine, Cullen, and Hawke starred at her quietly. She felt her face go red and she lowered her gaze.

“Do that again,” Hawke said softly. Ebrisa tilted her head in confusion. Do what again?

“Actually, there is a real task the Herald can perform,” Leliana cut in, trying to get the Inquisitor back on track. “There is a cleric by the name of Mother Giselle who would like to speak with you. She is not far and knows of those rallying against you.”

“Of course,” Ebrisa nodded. “I will go speak with her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Going to Redcliffe.

They were actually going to Redcliffe, the Fereldan epicenter for the mage rebellion. Both sides of the conflict had rouge extremists who would attack at the drop of a hat and trapped in the middle of it all was Mother Giselle, tending to the wounded and displaced. It was very admirable and Ebrisa respected the cleric greatly for it, but with her own magic flow so thrown off, she feared she would be unable to help. Perhaps an intended barrier becomes a wall of fire and she cuts off the party, leaving her exposed and alone. She gave a short, burst of nervous laughter, louder than intended, and quickly slapped her hands over her mouth. Her horse spooked at the noise and jerked suddenly, setting the inexperienced rider off balance. The mage lurched forward and threw her arms around the mount's neck, shutting her eyes tightly in anticipation of hitting the ground.

“You giving out free hugs now?”

Ebrisa sat up straight and fumbled with the reigns, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Sorry, Master Tethras. I'm afraid I never learned to ride...” It was a great point of shame for her. A horse was on the Trevelyan family crest, after all. “Horses are so large... how can you control them?” Varric gave the woman a disapproving look. “Oh! Not because you are short,” she turned red with horror. “I didn't mean that. I meant 'you' like the universal you, not you you. I'm so sorry! There weren't any dwarves at the Circle and I don't know what's offensive to you.”
The dwarf brought his own, smaller stead closer to the fumbling mage and made her look him in the eyes. “ Master Tethras is not offended that you pointed out he is short. Master Tethras is a distinguished individual who is comfortable with who he is. Master Tethras, however, has asked you to not call him Master Tethras.” Varric watched as the embarrassment left with his teasing and a new expression settled on Ebrisa's face. It was something akin to regret. “Hey, don't sweat it. Just trying to build a friendly rapport so you know we got your back in battle. Can't let the Herald get hurt, after all.”

The expression on Ebrisa's face deepened. Varric mentally smacked himself. Wrong thing to say, he guessed. “For instance, I know the Seeker will be relying on the aide of the amazing Bianca practically every minute.”

The warrior let out a single “Ha!” from her point position beside Hawke. “Let us put you on the front lines and see how your Bianca does against swords and shields,” she called over her shoulder. The two continued their banter back and forth while Hawke smirked and Solas shook his head. Varric insisted that no matter the situation, Bianca would come out on top. “You can not truly believe that a crossbow would be able to slay an army of iron golems lead by the gran daddy of all archdemons, whatever that is.” Cassandra turned fully in her saddle to level a stern look at Varric, but was taken aback.

The dwarf was petting his crossbow soothingly. “Shh, its okay, Bianca. The mean lady doesn't believe in me either.” The Seeker stared incredulously for a few moments, then slowly faced forward and remained silent.

Ebrisa couldn't help it anymore and began laughing, holding the reigns loosely. Her mount did not start this time, if anything, it relaxed under her. “There it is at last,” Varric sighed.

“We've reached the Hinterlands?” The mage craned her neck to see the famous iron-studded hills.

“Well, yes,” Varric relented, “but I was actually talking about your smile, Sunshine.”

Chapter Text

It had taken time and much effort, but the party had earned the aide of Mother Giselle and a horse master. The cleric had explained to them how dire the situation really was and how dangerous it was for anyone not secured inside Redcliffe's walls. On the surface, it sounded like a simple fix – stop the bands of templars and mages roaming around – but as they moved across the hills more and more problems arose. The Hinterlands was a vast, open area and it was riddled with Fade rifts. Luckily, most seemed to be away from the terrified population. When the Inquisitor's group assaulted the tears, Hawke and Cassandra would instantly pull the demons away from the rift. Solas coated the fighters in barriers and he and Varric attacked the stragglers that wandered away. This gave Ebrisa the chance to slip around the battle and close the rift.

At least, that was the plan.

It was a long and uncomfortable ride back, Solas and Varric ridding closer to the Herald, offering various words of encouragement. With the gates in sight, Cassandra pushed further ahead and Hawke called after her. The two had spent much time arguing in hushed voices at the front of the group and the Inquisitor didn't look done yet.

“Don't worry about it, Sunshine,” Varric tried again. “Who knows what that zappy sky split did to you.”

“Indeed, this event has never happened before,” the elf chimed in. “You are off balance, if nothing else.”

Ebrisa knew he was right, to some extent. She had been meditating longer and harder in the past week than she ever had before, but little progress was being made. “But Master Solas, I should have reacted quicker! You only got hurt because you pushed me out of the way.”

While sealing the final rift in their path, a bubbling green circle appeared below Ebrisa. She looked at is curiously and was thrown back as a terror demon emerged with a shriek. She was winded from her connection with the rift being torn and couldn't move as she stared at the gangly creature. It reared a hand back and then suddenly she was tumbling in the grass again while a pained shout echoed around her. Solas had Fade-stepped in at the last moment and tossed her away from the strike, only to take a claw to the arm himself.

He gingerly touched his new wrappings now. “Worry not, after a bit of rest I can mend myself.”

Ebrisa rubbed her forehead for the hundredth time that day and sighed. “I shouldn't have come.”

Varric reached out and smacked her arm. “Stop that before you rub a hole in your head.”

“I dare say you were quick to act after the fact,” the elf added. “Did you not incapacitate that demon shortly after with a fire spell?”

“Yes... I guess... but,” Ebrisa groaned and dropped her shoulders. “Seeker Pentaghast was so mad...”

The dwarf waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Bah, she's always mad.”

“Commander!” The Seeker bellowed while storming through the training grounds. “We have a problem. Gather the others for a meeting.” She continued her march, muttering to herself in Nevarran.

Cullen watched her storm through camp, then turned back to the stables. Hawke stood there awkwardly holding the reigns of both horses and trying to get the stable boy's attention. “This will be so much better when Dennet gets here,” she mumbled.

The horses finally taken off her hands, Hawke made her way over to the concerned commander. “If she was going to bark so many orders, I don't know why she made me Inquisitor.”

“What happened? The reports coming in said you were successful.” Cullen frowned.

“Yeah, we were. Everything actually went pretty smoothly, for the most part.” Hawke fiddled with the ends of her hair and sighed. “Let's gather the others in the Chantry – though with the huff she's making, I'm guessing they already know.”

Sure enough, Leliana, Josephine, and Casandra were all waiting at the war table. “Ah, Inquisitor, welcome back,” Josephine said with a polite bow. “May I inquire as to why you two have returned alone?”

Hawke waved a hand at Cassandra before resting it on her hip. “Ask Speedy over here. She seems to think there is a problem with our Herald.”

“I wish you would not be so dismissive about it, Inquisitor.” The Seeker rested her hands on the table and shook her head. “It would seem that our Herald is not battle ready. She was a flailing mess out there and her stumblings got others injured. It is unacceptable.”

“Come on now,” Cullen began, “She grew up in a Circle. I can't speak for Ostwick's curriculum, but most mages don't see real battle aside from their Harrowing. She did well getting to the Breach, did she not?”

Cassandra leaned off the table and sighed. “Perhaps the urgency we had getting there stopped me from noticing her short comings, but in the Hinterlands we had plans and strategies. She consistently could not do her part, despite how we adjusted.”

“Do you suggest we find her a tutor?” Josephine began jotting notes with her expert penmanship.

“I believe looking for outside help would be unwise.” Leliana shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “She has only just been proclaimed the Herald of Andraste. To let it slip that she is less than perfect will cast doubt on her position, and by extension, ours.”

“Look, you guys are thinking about this all wrong.” Hawke set her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “Who says the Herald should fight at all? If we keep her out of harm's way and look out for her instead of having our heads solely on the battle, shouldn't it all be fine? I mean, do we really need her help to fight the demons? When we don't have a rift, we can leave her at one of the camps.” She shrugged. “Do you know of many clerics nowadays that fight?”

Leliana seemed intrigued. “Paint her as a holy figure instead of a mage? Her name does have a very clear similarity.”

Hawke made a face. “Trevelyan?”

“No, Ebrisa.” The Orlesian continued. “Simply drop the last letter and...”

“Ebris. One of Andraste's daughters,” Cassandra caught on. “I suppose if I look at her as someone to escort instead of someone to fight along side...”

“Leave it to the Left and Right Hands of the Divine to see such a striking Chantry thread.” Josephine's quill was moving furiously across the parchment, but her serene expression never faltered.

“Are you changing her name? Just like that?” The idea put Cullen off tremendously.

“Easy boy,” Hawke smiled and waved her hand. “We aren't going to start presenting her with a nickname, simply make it easier for others to see the connection on their own.”

“Exactly,” Leliana touched her finger to her chin. “A smudge here, a drop of ink there. Simple little accidents our poor, tired ambassador has made.”

“Ah, yes, I do get so clumsy in the wee hours.” Josephine feigned a yawn.

The Inquisition seemed pleased with their decision and the women began going into detail for their next assignment. The commander, however, excused himself.

Ebrisa removed the last saddle bag and slunk it over her shoulder with more than a little effort. There were quite a few things she was able to collect in the Hinterlands and most of it was ore.

“Are you alright, Lady Herald?” The young boy manning the horses asked, seeing her teeter slightly.

“Ah, yes, its only a little heavy.” She adjusted the load and smiled. “After I turn this in to Serrah Threnn, I will be back to help you brush them down.”

“Thank you, my lady.” The boy bowed and started brushing one of the large mounts.

Though she had been too small to ride herself, Ebrisa would follow her siblings out each morning in her early years. She would watch them take lessons with their father from the shade of the stables and pout until the horse master took pity on her. He'd let her help groom the animals and polish the saddles as her older siblings perfected riding. Ebrisa learned at a young age to respect the powerful animals, but never how to control them. Thankfully, she was able to overcome her initial fear of riding during the return trip to Haven. Let that be one good thing to come out of the journey.

The mage began awkwardly moving along the path to the requisition officer, but as she neared the tent she noticed a large and rowdy crowd outside the Chantry. She moved closer and walked around the back of the group before setting down her heavy load. The angry voices behind her grew louder until one remark could be heard clearly over the others.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!”

Ebrisa whipped around and finally saw the crowd for what it was. The mages and templars of the Inquisition were moments away from ripping each other apart. Why was no one stopping this? Where were Leliana and Cullen? It was unusual for them to be away from their posts. Even Hawke and Cassandra were no where to be found. She looked at Threnn, who merely shrugged as if to say 'not my job'. The mage took a steadying breath and flexed her hands. If the leaders weren't there, she would have to step up as the Herald.

Ebrisa squeezed through the mob with ignored 'pardon me's and found her way to the eye of the storm. Two men squared off, hurling slander and curses at one another and spurring on the crowd.

“Please,” Ebrisa began meekly, “Please, stop fighting.”

The armored man to her right, an obvious templar, looked at her from the corner of his eyes and snarled. “Shove off, apostate!” He pushed her in the chest, sending her to the ground with a thud. Ebrisa sat in the mud blinking for a few moments, trying to regain the air that was knocked from her lungs. It had taken so much for her to muster up the courage to even address the men that she had nothing left to pick herself up with.

Cullen emerged from the Chantry and quickly quelled the fighting just as a soldier reached for his blade. “We are not templars any longer,” he said with a stern look at the soldier. “We are all part of the Inquisition.” He looked around the crowd, sincerity and sternness on his face. That is, until he laid eyes on Ebrisa on the ground. “Lady Herald,” he said in a concerned voice. “Are you alright?” Cullen extended his hand out to her and she hesitated. The crowd, now realizing who she was, began to stare and the man who had shoved her began to slink away.

Ebrisa looked up at Cullen, processing what he had just told the others. They were all Inquisition and if they were going to fix this fracture, she needed to put her personal fears aside and set an example. She tentatively placed her hand in his and almost immediately Cullen placed another on her back and pulled her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Standing on her feet again and supported by Cullen's hands, she felt a dizziness. It was warm and surprisingly pleasant.

“My Lady Herald?” The commander asked again.

Ebrisa snapped out of her daze and quickly took a few steps back, holding her hands to herself. “Yes, thank you, Commander.” She glanced at the soldier from before and saw him freeze in place. “I slipped is all. Weary from the road, I suppose.”

Chancellor Roderick entered the clearing now that the tension had left. “I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its,” he looked Ebrisa over with a shake of his head, “clumsy Herald hope to restore order, as you promised.”

Cullen set his jaw and frowned. “Of course you are.” He ordered the onlookers to return to their duties and readied to speak with the official once again. At that moment, Cassandra and Hawke exited the Chantry.

“Well if it isn't my favorite nay-sayer. Back so soon, Chancellor?” The Inquisitor stood beside Cullen and folded her arms.

“Lady Herald,” Cassandra walked up to the group. “May I have a word?” She guided the mage away without waiting for a response and lead her out of the village walls. “I wish to apologize to you.” Ebrisa opened her mouth, but the Seeker raised a hand. “Please, let me continue.” She let out a small, annoyed sigh. “I hold those fighting beside me to a certain standard of skill which I now realize was unfair to you. Hawke and Varric have been fighting together for years, Solas survived on his own for who know how long, and I was practically born with a sword in my hand. It has been made clear to me that not all Circles train their charges for battle. My reaction towards you was unfair and unbecoming.” She shook her head. “I will not make you fight with us, Herald. We will keep you safe while you perform your duty.” The Seeker bowed. “If you'll excuse me.” She walked away and readied a practice dummy.

Ebrisa stood and watched Cassandra swing her sword for a while before turning and walking to the stables. As promised, the mage picked up a stiff brush and set to work on the mounts. Had Cassandra really just apologized for thinking Ebrisa could be a capable fighter? Now she held no illusions of that and would, what, chaperone her around Thedas? The mage's hand stilled as she was overcome with the realization that the Seeker wasn't wrong. In her current state, Ebrisa was a burden in battle and useless in conflict.

“That's the last of them,” the lad said while setting down the brush and reached for the bent strip of metal.

Ebrisa snapped back to the task at hand and set down her brush. “Hold on a moment. I'll go speak with the blacksmith.” Maybe she couldn't take down a demon, but surely she could describe a proper hoof pick to Harritt.

Chapter Text

Though she had felt guilty at first, Ebrisa now enjoyed her small cottage. It gave her quiet hours at the start and end of her day to meditate and recite the Chant without interruption and for that she was deeply grateful. At first she had tried attending the sermons lead by the dwindling clergy, but the sisters were overworked from other duties and the Chantry building felt more the home of the Inquisition and less the home of the Maker. Not that it really mattered, as the mage was used to tending to her own spiritual needs.

She took a candle in her ungloved hands and knelt on the floor in her nightdress, facing the western wall. Ebrisa gripped the candle lightly, the wick lighting immediately. She shook her head and chastised herself for the unneeded magic, her curly locks sweeping loose against her back. The mage straightened her back and held the candle at arms length, staring into the flame. “These truths the Maker has revealed to me...”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Inquisitor slowly slide her hands down her face in frustration. “How can we still be talking about this? Yes, we don't know if its safe, and yes, we can't show up without the Herald, but someone must have a solution. Some sort of back up plan if things go south?”

They had even called in Mother Giselle, seeing as it was her idea to go to Val Royeaux. All she had done was smile and say “The Herald must go to Val Royeaux. She is exactly what the clerics need to see.”

“Before we develop contingency plans,” Josephine said while setting down her writing board, “might we ask the Herald herself if she is even willing to go?”

Hawke nodded and ruffled her own hair. “Right. We should explain it all plainly to her so that she understands the danger she would be in, but also the importance of the trip. A representative from both sides – Cassandra, Cullen, let's go.” She turned around and flung open the door, walking down the hall without checking to see if she was followed. Naturally, she was.

“Pardon me, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said as they stepped outside, “but do you even know where the Herald would be this time of night?”

Hawke paused and smiled sheepishly. “The tavern?”

The Seeker sighed. “Doubtful, but let us see.” The trio walked down the dimly light path to the Singing Maiden and found the warm building oddly empty. It had patrons, sure, but far fewer than most nights. Had it gotten so late?

Confused, they walked out the other door and over to Varric in his usual spot by one of the fire pits. He opened his eyes at their approach and stood to greet them. “You Inquisition types sure don't mess around when it comes to meetings. Thought you would never come out.”

“Hit a bit of a stalemate,” Cullen said while crossing his arms. “We were hoping the Herald could help us end it.”

“You seen her around lately?” Hawke squinted against the bright fire light.

The dwarf chuckled softly. “Just listen.” They stood silently in the snow, listening to the crackling fire until a soft voice drifted in. It was sweet and timid singing, some notes breaking to an airy whisper for fear of being too loud. Despite its efforts, the voice drew them to a small, dimly lit cottage. As they drew near, they noticed other Inquisition members standing silently to the side of the building where a warm shaft of light seeped out. The small crowd broke from their trance at the leaders' approach and shyly, silently, moved away and back to their posts and quarters.

With only the new arrivals remaining, they crept to the spot of light. A shutter had not fully closed, allowing Ebrisa's singing out and onlookers a view in. She had finished her meditations and held only the spent wax of the thin candle in her hands as she softly sang from the Benedictions. Her eyes were shut and her face serene as she ignored everything around her.

Hawke smiled and motioned for the others to follow her back to Varric. “You spend a good deal of time at her doorstep,” she said to the dwarf is a hushed tone. “Does she do this every night?”

He leaned back against the cobbled stone and shrugged. “As near as I can tell. I can catch bits and pieces now and then, but this is the first time we've heard her so clearly.”

“Its just like Mother Giselle said,” Hawke said with a grin. “She is just what the clerics need to see. How is that girl not the Herald of Andraste?”

“She was practically glowing...” Cullen added, dumbfounded.

“Exactly! Now, lets go convince her to come speak to the remaining clergy in Val Royeaux.”

Cullen and Cassandra hesitated at the door, neither wanting to interrupt the song of worship. “Oh for the love of...” Hawke rolled her eyes and reached around the Seeker, pounding on the door.

There was a squeak from inside followed by a crash and Cullen burst into the cottage before Hawke could stop him. “Herald, are you alright?”

Ebrisa lay on the ground, holding her head, hair sprawled around her and nightdress up around her thighs. Next to her was an upturned table and scattered candles. The commander made his way over to her and helped her sit up, holding her shoulders gently. “Sorry,” she withdrew her hands and checked for blood. “I'm afraid I tripped on my nightdress and caught the corner of the table. Not very graceful, I know.” She looked up at Cullen from under her lashes, her golden hair framing her face with wispy curls and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Thank you, Commander.” She added with a timid smile.

Cullen stayed where he was and couldn't help but stare. He hadn't noticed before how incredibly green her eyes were. They almost seemed to swirl with light, like looking into the Breach itself. Ebrisa began to tremble in his grasp, snapping him back to reality. “Are you cold, Herald?”

Cassandra gave Cullen a light shove, separating him from Ebrisa. “Commander, have you no decency?” She quickly draped a shawl over the trembling mage. “The Herald is nearly exposed in her underthings here.”

“Taking in the sight of her legs, are we?” Hawke teased, making both people on the floor blush. Cullen jumped to his feet and Ebrisa pulled at her nightdress to cover her exposed thighs.

“I was doing no such thing.” The commander cleared his throat. “We had a purpose in coming here tonight.”

Cassandra helped Ebrisa to her feet. “Lady Herald, what he says is true. You remember what Mother Giselle said to you at the Crossroads?”

The mage tightened the shawl around herself and looked at her feet. “I do... she said much to me.”

“What we are referring to is her idea of you addressing the clergy at Val Royeaux.” The Seeker explained.

“Ah...” Ebrisa paused and she considered her conversation with the cleric. Mother Giselle was so different from the sisters at the Circle. She cared for everyone the same, despite position or calling and gave off such an air of peace. Her voice was soothing and words sank deep into your heart, as though you instantly held them to be true. “I don't know what I will say to them,” the mage began hesitantly, “but what is your question?”

Hawke tilted her head skeptically. “You have already decided to go?”

The mage slunk back slightly. “It was asked of me. Should I not?”

“It is obviously a trap! Its far too dangerous.” The commander slid his hand through the air for emphasis.

“We will, of course, take precautions,” Cassandra added. “You will not go alone.”

“You can not be serious.” Cullen frowned. “Val Royeaux is home to the last loyal templars in southern Thedas and they will surely be in attendance.”

“Perfect,” Hawke cut in. “Then we can ask for their assistance in person.”

Cassandra groaned. “Not this again. We need more mages to seal the Breach.” The two women began to face off and argue once again about the benefits of either side aiding in the next attempt on fixing the sky, ignoring the others in the room.

Cullen moved beside Ebrisa and spoke to her in a soft tone. “My Lady Herald, I do not believe we can protect you from every possible outcome. While the clergy may not attack you directly, they do employ bards and others who we would not see coming. Remember, even the Divine had Leliana.” He bent his head a bit to make eye contact. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“I... will admit I am scared,” Ebrisa began. “But this is something I can do to help the Inquisition.” She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “It was made clear to me that I can not fight well enough to help in the field. I am a burden in combat... I appreciate your concern, Commander, but I must help where I can.”

“Because I'm the Inquisitor and I said so!” Hawke bellowed from across the room at a red faced Cassandra. She panted a few times, then seemed to remember where she was. Hawke turned slowly to Ebrisa and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about that. Don't know what came over us, right Seeker?”

The Nevarran cleared her throat. “Of course, Inquisitor. Apologies.”

“So,” Hawke slapped her hands together as if dusting them off. “We all set for a trip to Orlais?”

Ebrisa nodded.

“She is firm in her resolve,” Cullen added with a shake of his head. He motioned to the door. “We should let her retire for the night.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Hawke opened the door and walked out into the night, feeling pounds lighter. “Sleep well, Herald!” Cassandra followed, giving a respectful nod to the mage before leaving. Cullen stepped to the door and paused, then briskly moved to the far window and closed and latched the shutter. Ebrisa looked at him curiously for a moment before realization set in.

“You could hear me, couldn't you? You... you saw?” She clutched the shawl around herself.

The man rubbed the back of his neck as he moved away from the window. “I... we did, briefly. Varric says most nights he can barely hear you at all, so if you just make sure your-”

“Master Varric can hear me? All the way from the fire?” She covered her face in her hands, letting the shawl slip to the floor. “Why has he never mentioned that I annoy him at night?”

“Actually, I believe they find it very-”

“ They ?!” Ebrisa whirled around, eyes wide and cheeks red with embarrassment. “How many?”

The commander felt reluctant to say more as each sentence seemed to put the mage in more of a panic. He cleared his throat and continued to the door.

“Please, Commander?”

Cullen turned around to face the Herald. She suddenly seemed so sad and defeated, as though she had lost something she held very dear.

“If you could apologize to Master Varric and the others for my interruptions and tell them I won't be disturbing their nights anymore, I would appreciate it.”

“You believe not only that you are disturbing them, but that you should stop doing something you clearly enjoy?”

“Well,” Ebrisa shifted her bare feet and looked up timidly. “Everyone works so hard and needs their rest. It's unreasonable to keep them up.”

“This would be true,” Cullen began, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. He caught Ebrisa flinch out of the corner of his eye and quickly crossed his arms instead. “This would be true, if it were a drunkard bellowing out a sea shanty in the dead of night. Do you know what it was?” Cullen didn't wait for a reply. “It was someone the people hold in religious regard expressing her faith. They find comfort in that, not annoyance.”

“I... hadn't thought of it like that,” Ebrisa said quietly, a smile creeping its way onto her face.

Cullen nodded and headed back to the open door. “You sounded nice, by the way. If you sang with fuller breaths and were more confident, you would be truly lovely.” He paused a moment, processing what he said. “I meant your voice would be lovely, not you. Ah – not that you aren't lovely, Herald, I didn't mean that, I-” The commander waved a hand through the air and took a breath. “Good night, Herald.”

“Ah, yes,” Ebrisa squeaked, obviously embarrassed. “You as well, Commander.”

Cullen nodded and finally exited the cottage, closing the door behind him. He heard a soft giggle from inside and couldn't help but smile a little. The others no doubt wondered what became of him, so he made for the Chantry.

“Aww, why'd you leave?” Varric called from his post. “That was hilarious!”

Cullen continued walking. “Good night , Varric.”

The dwarf waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Spoiled sport.”

Chapter Text

If she had to be honest, Ebrisa was excited to visit Val Royeaux. Sure, the idea of being imprisoned or assassinated did her composure no favors, but the city itself always seemed so magical in the discarded books she found in the Circle. Sparkling white walls, sweeping arches, chiseled detailing on even the most standard shop – the place was like a living painting. As they crossed the bridge to the heart of the city, she raised her eyes up to take in the stone splendor of the tall buildings. A gasp brought her back to ground and she caught a glimpse of a frightened woman running away. The mage lowered her head, remembering why they were there. Her gawking would have to wait.

Ebrisa stumbled into Varric, having not noticed the group had stopped walking to receive a report from Leliana's scout. “Sorry, Master Varric,” Ebrisa whispered, not wanting to interrupt Hawke.

“It's alright. Feeling a bit dwarfed by your surroundings?” He nudged her slightly and winked. She opened her mouth to refuse and apologize again, but realized Varric was joking and smiled timidly instead.

“Give me your staff,” Hawke ordered, suddenly right next to her.

“What? Why?” Ebrisa looked around to see that the scout was already gone.

“All these people know is that we are the Inquisition and the Herald is a female mage among us,” Hawke began. “I don't know what the Chantry has been saying, but the common folk fear us and templars are waiting in the market with the clerics. At the very least, this will keep you undiscovered until we meet with the clerics alone.” Hawke cast a sideways glance down the opulent street. “If they truly do want to talk.”

Ebrisa slowly removed her staff as Hawke handed her blade to Cassandra. “Isn't this lie a bad way to start peaceful negotiations?”

Hawke chuckled and took the staff. “I will never claim to be something I'm not. This is just to get you through the scared masses alright.”

The mage looked down at her nondescript gear and sighed. It still felt like lying. They walked together into the market and through the crowd. The people hurled insults and gossip, but only words and most of it directed to the front of the pack where Hawke and Cassandra lead with heads held high. They passed a chanter and Ebrisa paused to look at him. He too stared at Hawke with disapproval as they neared a wooden platform.

Mother Hevara, an older and visibly weak woman, stood proudly with two others at her side. Upon seeing the Inquisition, she began her speech to the people, rallying them against Hawke. Ebrisa could take no more of the hateful things Hevara threw at Hawke and took a step forward.

“Please, Revered Mother, we came to talk.” She looked up at the cleric from the edge of the platform. “Can't we discuss things peacefully before its too late?”

The older woman's eyes met hers for a moment, desperation written all over her face. “It is already too late,” she declared, motioning for the templars to advance. Ebrisa took a step back at the sight of the gleaming force and fear built up in her throat. They knew templars were in Val Royeaux and waiting, but to see so many in formation shook Ebrisa to the core and she nearly fell down with her trembling. How could they escape?

Suddenly, one of the men punched the cleric right in the face and she fell down. Ebrisa gasped in horror, and then again as Hawke laughed. Ebrisa knew the Inquisitor held little love for the Chantry, but to laugh?

The mage scrambled onto the platform and quickly nestled the mother's head in her lap as her clerics looked on and the templars stood not three feet away. Mustering up her courage, Ebrisa looked up into the eyes of one of the templars. “How could you?” The young man seemed uncertain of what to do, but was quickly brought in by his commander, Lord Seeker Lucius. Their trip was a failure and Ebrisa could no longer bring herself to care about what Hawke and the templars were saying to each other. “Are you alright, Revered Mother?”

The ailing woman had been thoroughly knocked out and her cheek would surely bruise, but it was not broken. Ebrisa looked up at the other clerics. “Have a care, is there nothing you can do?” The clerics snapped to attention and looked at each other before rushing to get Hevara's attendant. Ebrisa straightened the mother's garments and tried her best to make the woman look as dignified as her status. Hevara coughed up a little blood and weakly opened her eyes as Ebrisa fumbled for a cloth to clean the mother's face. She dabbed gently at the red specks and tried to smile through her guilt. Mother Hevara's vision was slowly unblurring as she looked up at the blonde woman above her, wreathed in golden light. Her breath caught in her throat at the image. “I am dead?”

Ebrisa leaned in, blocking the sun behind her. “No, no, Revered Mother! You were knocked out for only a moment.” The woman remained quiet as her vision cleared and the other clerics returned.

They sat her up the younger Sister looked her over carefully before sighing in relief. She turned to Ebrisa and smiled. “Thank you, child. Maker bless your heart.”

Ebrisa smiled meekly back. “I couldn't just stand there after a revered mother was shown such disrespect.” She paused and looked down. “Especially since it is my fault. If we had not asked to speak with you, you might not have felt the need to call on the templars.”

The realization quickly set in. “You are the one they call the Herald of Andraste...” Hevara looked her over once more and turned away with a small laugh.

Ebrisa looked down at her gloved hands. “I'm not very impressive, I know.” The mage got to her feet and looked at the clerics. “Once again, I do apologize for the harm that has come to you. I do not know what I truly am, but all I can do is try to help.”

Mother Hevara looked up at the mage, smiling sadly and once again framed in sunlight. She quickly lowered her eyes and shook her head. “For you to be true, a great many things must be false. And for you to be false, a great many things must have failed.” It was all she would say and Ebrisa bowed slightly as she took her leave off the platform.

Hawke grabbed the mage's wrist and pulled her quickly to the side near the gallows. “Are you crazy?” Ebrisa lowered her eyes, unsure of what to say. “You practically gift wrapped yourself. What if one of the templars killed you or the Chantry imprisoned you? You needed to stay with us during all that chaos!” The Inquisitor paused her angry berating to take some calming breaths. She released Ebrisa's wrist and took hold of her gently by the shoulder instead. “That was way too dangerous, Herald. I know you lived in a Circle most of your life, but you need to realize that there are people who mean to harm you.”

Ebrisa instinctively drew into herself and looked at her feet. She knew that already.

Cassandra stepped in and presented Hawke her sword. “The need for pretense is behind us, Inquisitor.” Hawke removed the staff and passed it to the Seeker before working the straps of her scabbard. “I think you would do well to stay near us so we may protect you, Lady Herald.” She extended the staff. “Though, I also think it did the Chantry well to see you as who you are, and not a figure to fear. Just remember that you are more than yourself now. You are key to ending the Breach.”

Ebrisa took her staff and nodded. If she had been able to protect herself better, perhaps the others would let her act more as she felt she ought to. Let her faith guide her in situations like these. But, she was their burden to bare.

An arrow suddenly whizzed through the air and struck the ground behind them. “What the hell? Who fires an arrow into a crowd?” Hawke scanned the roofs for the archer while Cassandra inspected the arrow and its attached message. “So this Red Jenny is sending us on a scavenger hunt? How fun,” the Inquisitor began looking around for red objects with a glint in her eyes.

“Never let it be said the Inquisition isn't fun,” Varric called after her as she headed further into the Summer Bizarre. They slowly followed their leader and passed by the chanter from before.

“Maker know my heart...” He began the verse with unsteady rhythm, then broke from the Chant entirely. “Maker, where is the comfort?” Cassandra gave him a sideways glance and kept walking. The man suddenly realized that not only had he broken the Chant, but had been heard doing it, and hung his head in shame. Ebrisa bit her lip and hesitated, trying to stay with the group, but wanting to help.

“My Maker, know my heart,” Ebrisa said out loud as she slowly walked by. “Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain.” She stopped for a moment and looked the chanter in the eyes, smiling softly. “Judge me worthy of your endless pride.”

The man looked at her as she nodded and caught up to Varric and Solas. “My Creator ,” the man continued to the next verse, voice loud and clear, “ Judge me whole.”

Varric nudge Ebrisa lightly as she walked beside him. “You just keep being you, Sunshine. I'll keep an eye out for ya.”

“Indeed,” Solas gave her an amused smirk. “It would seem we couldn't stop you anyways.”

Ebrisa tightened her grip on her plain staff as she looked over the worn, yet elegantly designed one on Solas' back. The battles he must have experienced, the spells he's weaved. To survive alone for so long and journey into the Fade by himself must have taken years of study and practice. She wondered if she could ever reach that level of skill or confidence.

“You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not?” One of the finest dressed mages Ebrisa had seen recently stepped up to her. “I have an invitation for you.” He handed her a crisp piece of parchment, elegantly written on and beautifully designed.

“I, um, yes. Thank you.” Ebrisa held the invitation gently and stared at it quizzically. The messenger gave a curt bow and took his leave while Cassandra stepped closer.

“What is that?”

“Sunshine got invited to a fancy Orlesian get together by the local First Enchanter.” Varric held a pinky in the air. “Mind your p's and q's now.”

The Seeker frowned slightly. “It could be a trap.”

“I highly doubt a fellow mage would try anything dangerous in a room full of Orlesian witnesses,” Solas scoffed.

The group continued to contemplate the invite as Hawke came running back with hands full of handkerchiefs and notes. She beamed brightly. “Easy peasy. Give me something difficult, Red Jenny.” Hawke shook at a stray piece of seaweed wrapped around her boot as she regarded the group. “What's that?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick, representing the Inquisition,” a man announced as Ebrisa entered the salon. There was an Inquisition scout outside the door in case she needed help, but the rest of the group had gone off to follow Red Jenny's tip. Both events were set for the same time and Hawke was all for ignoring the First Enchanter's invitation all together until Solas and Ebrisa convinced her otherwise. It took even more convincing before Hawke agreed to let the Herald attend on her own – with scout supervision, of course.

Ebrisa tried her best to not gawk at the opulent room with its sparkling walls and polished floor. She was at a disadvantage as the masked nobles surrounded her, asking all sorts of questions about wild stories they had heard about both her and the Inquisition. The mage tried her best to maintain the pose and elegance the surroundings dictated by recalling the lessons her mother gave since she could walk. Ebrisa may have been torn from noble life, but she still held on to those manners and etiquette as a precious cornerstone of her life. She did have to constantly remind herself to keep eye contact though.

A mocking voice echoed off the walls as a man walked down the stairs, eyes glinting through his mask. He called the Inquisition's true motives into question and degraded its leaders. Ebrisa tried to defend their cause, but was cut off as the man once again belittled their efforts. “As for you, Herald of Andraste,” he took the final step off the stairs and loomed over the mage. “If you were a woman of honor, you would step outside and answer the charges against you.”

Ebrisa set her shoulders back, regaining her proper posture and met the man's eyes with a smile. “My lord, I see that you were not in attendance for Revered Mother Hevara's assembly this afternoon. You could not be bothered to witness such an event with your own eyes, so you relied upon rumors and gossip to fill you in?”

The man shifted his weight and flittered a hand through the air. “Gossip spreads faster than any carrier bird, everyone knows this. What is your point?”

“My point, my lord, is that while the templars broke from their sacred duty and made mockery of the Chantry, I was with the clergy. My fellows went off to try and reason with the Lord Seeker and I was alone, exposed, and could have easily been captured. Do you know what happened? I doubt you do as I'm sure all anyone could speak of at that moment was the Templars.” Ebrisa took a step forward, watching the man through his mask. “Revered Mother Hevara let me go. I was there, ready for any judgment the clergy might have bestowed upon me, but I walked away freely. I think, my lord, that if there was truly any desire to lay charges against me, they would have done so then.” The man squirmed a bit, working on a retort, until a small laugh echoed into the room.

“Well said, my dear.” A tall woman said with a smile as she descended the stairs. “It seems you have put our dear marquis in a bit of a spot, though no more than he tried to put you in.”

“Madame Vivienne, I was merely-”

“Enough.” The tall woman snapped her fingers and froze the man in place. “Could someone be a dear and thaw him out once I've gone? I really can't be bothered by him at the moment.” She turned to Ebrisa and smiled widely. “So good of you to come, Lady Herald. Please, let us speak somewhere less cluttered.”

The two mages walked to a secluded hall with moonlight streaming in from the windows. “I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, and Enchantress of the Imperial Court.”

Ebrisa, so struck by the titles, couldn't help but curtsy and dip her head. “An honor, Madame Vivienne.”

The enchanter laughed again and waved her hand in dismissal. “Are you not the Herald of Andraste? You should bow to none, my dear.” She saw the uncertainty on Ebrisa's face and smiled before returning a curtsy. “There, we are well met. Now I'm sure you are wondering why I invited you to my salon. I wish to offer my assistance to your cause. Only the Inquisition is in a position to restore order to Thedas, as this afternoon's display no doubt taught many.”

“I am sure the Inquisition would be most grateful for your aide, Madame Vivienne. But don't you have responsibilities here? You said you were first enchanter, does your Circle yet remain?”

Vivienne lifted a palm up and motioned towards the window. “True, we are the last loyal mages in Thedas, but I can not sit by while others toil to save this world. After all, how loyal could I really be if I let everything crumble to chaos?”

“I don't know how much weight I have, but I do believe the Inquisitor would love another ally.” Ebrisa began to curtsy again, but caught herself and extended her right hand instead. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Madame Vivienne.”

~~~~~~~~

She didn't think it was possible, but the journey back from Orlais was more awkward than the one back from the Hinterlands. While Ebrisa welcomed in Vivienne, Hawke had recruited Sera – a friend of Red Jenny – and the two newcomers were polar opposites. Sera, it seemed, hated magic and after giving Ebrisa a good, hard look seemed mildly satisfied with whatever it was she was looking for and spent the rest of the journey at the head of the pack with Hawke. The two could be heard laughing hysterically practically the entire trip. Ebrisa took the chance to speak more candidly with the first enchanter, as she rarely could with her former one.

“What is your Circle's take on battle magic? Or, I suppose I don't know the proper term for it.” Ebrisa tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she regarded the older mage.

“We see it as any other form of fighting, my dear. Learn to do it well, learn the place for it, and always be prepared to use it. It is truly no different from a chevalier readying for a duel.” She turned in her saddle, maintaining perfect posture, to look at the Herald. “And what of your schooling? I am eager to hear how it progressed.”

“Oh, I believe they taught more defensively, at least for the lower levels. More advanced students were taught more dangerous spells, so I think that's when offensive magic came into play.” Ebrisa stopped once she noticed Vivienne staring at her.

“You believe and think? My dear, did you not receive this training yourself?”

The blonde paled and cleared her throat. “I studied, but never received the practical lessons. First Enchanter Lydia forbade it.” She rubbed her thumb against the reigns in her hands. “I don't think I'm a natural, as it were. Seeker Pentaghast already made it clear my skills are below par.”

Vivienne gave the young woman a long, sympathetic look. “My dear Herald, running a Circle is not only about shaping mages, it requires a great deal of balance between all means of internal and external forces. There have been countless times when my own inclinations were upset by a noble's sway or Chantry view.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Lydia was a dear friend of mine and she would never hold someone back if they were too weak, she would work with them to bring up their skills. But we cannot always have our own way.” She opened her eyes and looked ahead. “I'm sure Lydia had a good reason from an external source to not allow your training and not because of some imagined short coming on your part.”

Ebrisa took several moments to find her voice. “Madame Vivienne, you have not even seen me fight. How can you be so certain my short comings are not real?”

“Do you not think I could sense the pull you hold on the Fade?” Vivienne held up a hand. “Before you even think it, I am not referring to your mark.” She brushed off a stray leaf from her lap. “The mark does indeed feed from the Fade, but it can not overshadow your own, bright gift.”

The Herald once again took careful time to compose her thoughts as she watched the party riding in front of them. “I get in their way. I'm not strong like them.”

“You shall never be like them,” Vivienne sounded almost angry as she shook her head. “That does not mean you aren't strong. There is more to magic than fighting and more to battle than hitting.”

Chapter Text

It was bitterly cold as the troops began to rise from slumber and prepare for training. The sun was only just giving the slightest bit of light over the horizon, seemingly as sluggish as the men. Cullen crossed his arms impatiently, already fully awake and prepared for the day. “Shake the sleep from your limbs men, there are drills to run.” The morning, if it could yet be called that, was far colder than previous ones and the commander felt a tinge of pity for his men. “The sooner you start moving, the sooner you'll warm up, I assure you.”

There was movement off by the lake and Cullen frowned at it. He had been watching the spot as something glinted in and out of view while the troops were roused. Staying in the same spot like that, he knew it not to be an animal in the trees. “Lieutenant, move the men through their paces. I shall return shortly.”

“Yes, ser!” The man to his left snapped to attention and took over while Cullen headed for the tree line. As he drew nearer, he could hear only movement and rhythmic breathing, still no clue to its source. Cullen drew his blade slowly and moved expertly in the snow, making his footfalls as quiet as possible. He could sense the creature beyond the snow laden branches blocking his view but saw no way to investigate without giving away his position. The man swiftly burst into the small clearing, sword up and ready.

The figure spun around at the noise and flame flared up in front of it, like a brief protective wall. Cullen squinted slightly at the sudden brightness but did not look away. “What are you doing out here, mage?” The tensions between the former templars and mages still ran high in camp and for everyone's safety, none were to wander out of the village alone. The fire and light dissipated to reveal Ebrisa, terrified, with her hands up and open in a surrender. She stared at the templar sword, not the man wielding it, and began to tremble.

Cullen blinked with recognition and quickly sheathed his blade. “Lady Herald, forgive me. I did not expect you out here.”

Ebrisa let out a shaky breath and slowly relaxed, lowering her gloved hands. “Commander Cullen. Has it gotten so late?” She bent down and picked up the plain, long stick she had dropped and frowned slightly. “I thought there was still some time before you started drills.”

“The men are making ready now. I saw movement and came to investigate.” Cullen regarded the mage curiously. She was dressed in a light robe with gloves and boots as her only outerwear. Her hair was in a loose bun and slipping out in places, indicating she had been up for a while. “What are you doing out here so early, Herald?”

Ebrisa smiled sheepishly and motioned to the stick. “Madame Vivienne showed me the most effective way to chain cast, so I'm practicing the movements. No casting, just the swings.”

“But why are you out here? And so early?”

The mage looked down. “I know I can never be like the Inquisitor or Seeker Pentaghast - honestly, Even Madame Vivienne and Master Solas are out of my reach - but if I train hard I can at least be competent enough to watch after myself. I'm enough of a burden on them as it is.” She sighed and shook her head. “I'm not a complete fool. I know it is important for the Inquisition that I have a strong image. I can't let too many people see me working on such basic skills. I usually finish before you start your own training.”

The commander hummed in understanding. No doubt Cassandra had not been very gentle when explaining the change in tactics. “Do you feel any stronger?”

“I don't know about stronger,” Ebrisa tapped a finger against her stick. “But more confident in handling a staff, for certain.”

Cullen nodded. “I'd like to see, if that's alright.”

The mage opened her mouth in surprise but quickly recovered. “O-of course, Commander.” She cleared her throat and took her starting stance. Slowly, she swung the stick end down in front of her, body leaning in. She shifted weight and spun the stick over, stepping as she did so. Slowly, carefully, she moved the stick as an extension of herself, fluidly shifting her body weight and position.

“Faster please, Herald.” Cullen spoke from the edge of the clearing.

She complied and sped up, being sure to breath evenly and look forward.

“Battle speed, Herald!”

Ebrisa tightened her grip and began to swing as quickly as she could through the steps. Suddenly, she caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her body in time to block another stick. She stared in surprise at the commander as he pulled back from the strike. He leveled his eyes with her and struck out again with the makeshift weapon. Ebrisa blocked that as well, confusion slowly lifting. Cullen continued striking at Ebrisa with the stick and moving her around the clearing. The mage kept her footing and spun the stick around herself in steps she had not practiced. She was amazed at the speed and fluidity she was maintaining and began to not only block strikes, but guide Cullen's weapon off her stick and strike out with the other end. The commander stalled only slightly from the change, but managed to recover in time to side step the swing. They continued on, switching from offense to defense, until Ebrisa managed to sweep the stick from Cullen's hand and send it spinning into the snow.

Cullen laughed and held up his hands. “I am disarmed, good lady.” He smiled warmly at her and clasped a hand on her shoulder. “I believe you should start practicing with a real staff now. You've worked hard, Herald, and it shows. I'm proud of you, well done.”

The mage stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Her face flushed and eyes slowly began to shimmer. She turned away quickly, breaking hand contact and tried to calm the feeling overwhelming her. There was a persistent pounding in her chest and air was becoming difficult to find as she held her hands over her heart. Her face burned with embarrassment as she wiped at her eyes. She was certain Cullen was about to laugh at her for crying over something so seemingly small.

He wasn't.

Instead, the commander was frantically running through his head what he could have done to offend the mage so. He had addressed her as such, but that was a little while ago. “Herald.” he began softly. She whirled around at being addressed, cheeks red from rubbing. “I apologize if I said or did something I perhaps shouldn't have.” He paused and rubbed his neck. “I know I should not have touched you.”

Ebrisa shook her head emphatically. “No, Commander, you've done nothing wrong. It's just that you said,” her eyes began to water up again. “Cullen, you said you were proud of me. No one's told me that since I was small.” She laughed once and wiped again at her eyes. “I know its silly, but I can't seem to help it.”

The commander smiled softly at the mage. “Well I do mean what I said. And not just for your training either; I've seen you helping around camp. Did you think I wouldn't notice you in the stables?”

The mage flinched slightly. “I was hoping, perhaps, I hadn't been seen and young Master Levin would be kept on when Master Dennet arrived.”

“I'm sure the stable hand will keep his job, regardless.” Cullen chuckled. “Despite your efforts, you can't exactly sneak by me. You stand out quiet easily.” The mage blushed briefly and looked away, holding tightly to her practice stick. Cullen blinked in realization of what he'd said and coughed. “Come, I'm sure we are both expected elsewhere.” He looked around the clearing for any sort of gear Ebrisa may have brought with her, but found none. “My Lady Herald, where is your coat?”

“Oh, I didn't need one.”

Cullen leveled a skeptical look at the mage. “I know training keeps you warm, but to come all the way out here before first light would have been deathly cold.”

“No, it's true. I run warmer than most.” She pulled off her right glove and extended her hand. “See?”

The commander removed his own glove and took the woman's slender hand. It did feel unnaturally warm, but was recently covered. Unsatisfied, he reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand to Ebrisa's forehead. The pounding returned, louder than before, and the mage stopped breathing all together. She starred at the commander and the concern on his face. The same kind of concern she'd seen him give injured soldiers returning from a mission. She quickly pulled back and ducked her head to the side, again feeling foolish.

“Apologies,” Cullen retracted his hand and looked the stiff mage over with a sigh. “I nearly forgot your issue with templars.” He knew she was acting on impulse and that her time in and out of the Circle could have given her any number of reasons to fear templars, but... he couldn't help but take it at least a little personally.

Ebrisa slipped her glove back on and looked at the commander with regret.”Forgive me, Cullen. You are a kind man, I know that. I know you are no longer a templar and that you would never hurt me. I would hope the former templars here would not as well.” She began walking out of the clearing, glad to see Cullen walking beside her. “In my later years in the Circle, I was more and more isolated. I rarely saw other mages – Senior Enchanter Vemara gave me private lessons - and the templars assigned to watch me were... unkind, more often than not. I came to believe I deserved it... and then I... I really did deserve it.” She stared down at her feet, watching the snow break under her weight. “If there were more men such as you... perhaps I...” She stopped talking and sighed. Best to not go down that path. “Could you tell me, Cullen, why you left the Order?”

The man explained that he was in Kirkwall for the uprising and saw the Chantry all but powerless to stem the tide of the conflict. Cassandra had come to him and offered him the position. In the Inquisition, they could act when the Chantry sat on its hands. A task bigger than any of them, but only made possible by so many individuals. As he spoke, he became more animated and excited. “There's so much we could-” he stopped mid sentence when he noticed Ebrisa smiling at him. He coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Forgive me, I don't think you expected a lecture when you asked me that.”

She giggled quietly behind her hand. “True enough, but if you have another passionate speech prepared I would love to hear it as well.”

The commander chuckled and shook his head. “Another time, perhaps.” The mage smiled at him again, wisps of hair catching the dawn's rays. Cullen looked away and rubbed his neck, feigning interest on the path instead of the woman beside him.

“I'm glad you didn't leave because you lost faith. You just wanted to help, but couldn't as you were.” They finally arrived back at the training grounds and Ebrisa looked around at all the men and women doing morning stretches and warm ups. “The Gallows in Kirkwall was lucky to have you, Cullen.” She turned to him fully. “Now that luck is ours.” She gave him a sheepish grin before turning away and hurrying off through the gate.

Chapter Text

The Avvar rarely made sense to outsiders. Their customs and traditions were from another age and sometimes it seemed impossible that the Maker's Bride was once such a barbarian. Yet, here they were in a Blight scared marsh in southern Fereldan with captured Inquisition soldiers. According to Scout Harding, the local chieftain’s son wanted to defeat the Herald to prove their own gods superior.

“Has the squad been hurt? Do we know?” Ebrisa was nearly overwhelmed with guilt. Good men and women were attacked and taken as ransom just so someone could fight her. She held no illusions that a mage like herself could stand against a barbarian warlord, but she would not let Hawke leave her behind. Cassandra and Varric had come along, eager to help their fellows. Vivienne came as well in order to instruct Ebrisa some more and watch her in battle, but she was less than thrilled to be in the dank place.

“Might I ask you something?” The enchanter began while double checking her potions. “You clearly have a predisposition for the inferno school of magic, yet you seem so fearful of it.”

Ebrisa rubbed at her forehead and frowned. “It often comes out on its own. I... I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop it.”

Vivienne shook her head. “My dear Herald, you must embrace your magic. There is power in it, yes, but you can never hope to master that power if you fear it.” The younger mage looked uncertain and bit her lip. “I came all the way out to this Maker-forsaken bog to better aid you, my dear. Do me the small courtesy of trying to heed my advice.”

“I... yes, of course, Madame Vivienne.” Ebrisa tried her best to seem confident but fell just short of convincing anyone.

“Come on, let's get going,” Hawke called from the edge of camp with Cassandra and Varric ready to head out. “The Avvar encampment is on the other side of the marsh and the weather isn't getting any better.”

Vivienne rose gracefully from the tent and didn't flinch as the cold rain beat down on her. Ebrisa followed her out and across the semi-solid ground, pondering her words. While the flames were never summoned, they did always protect her. Perhaps her reflexes were better than she thought on sensing danger. But how could she control something that acted on its own?

“This is where we part ways, I'm afraid.”

Ebrisa looked up at Vivienne, pulled from her musings.

“Stay here at the forward camp, Herald.” Hawke did one final check on her scabbard strapping. “When we establish a new camp or find a rift, we will send word for you. Mind Scout Harding and sit tight.” With a hardy clap on the shoulder and a playful wink, the Inquisitor's party was off.

Harding was sympathetic to the mage's disappointment and quickly called her over to the requisition officer. “I'm glad you're here, your worship. Threnn says you have a keen eye and are eager to help.” The officer handed a stack of papers to the dwarf and Harding nodded. “These are some things they need back in Haven. Lots of potions and armor to make yet and the local resources are running low.”

Ebrisa knew they were trying to cheer her up and distract her and she was grateful. Sitting in a damp tent all day wouldn't help anyone, after all. She smiled softly at them. “Thank you. I'll take a look around.” She took the requisition sheets and walked away, studying the flora sketches.

“Oh, be careful around the water!” Scout Harding called after her. “There was a plague here recently and the dead are still around.”

The mage nodded and continued to walk out of camp. She was sure to always keep it in sight, but slowly circled out further and further. Besides the Avvar stationed down the bog, there was no sign of life anywhere. She pondered just how horrific the plague had been and if they were at any risk of contracting it. Sure enough, one of the requisition sheets asked for tissue samples from any unburned victims of the unknown disease to help develop a cure. She was mildly successful in her search, finding several blue viritol and summer stone deposits and, as always, an abundance of elfroot. Ebrisa was mindful of the water, thinking that to be a contraction point, and found her way to a hill with an odd structure on to. It seemed a monument of sorts of worn stone covered in script she could not decipher. There was a peculiar brazier on one side that seemed oddly familiar and the hint of a rune on another.

“Could this be veil fire?” She recalled something similar in the Hinterlands and remembered them finding something quiet useful in the glimmering rune. “Now how did Master Solas light it?” She focused on the elegant brazier and pushed just a bit of her aura into it. The blue flame sprang to life and the mage began to search for something to capture the magic fire on.

A screech ripped through the air, followed by the sound of splashing water.

Animated corpses rose from the bog and staggered up the hill, drawn to the veil fire beacon. On the edge of the firelight stood a towering figure, screeching angrily. Ebrisa fumbled with her staff and fell against the monument in surprise. Instantly, a wall of fire sprang up around the crest of the hill and cut off the undead's path. She could hear them sizzling and howling on the other side of the flames and began to calm down. She took her staff in a proper grip and prepared for one to break through. A green ring illuminated the ground beneath her and she sucked in a breath in realization. As before in the Hinterlands, a terror demon burst from the portal under her and threw the mage on her back.

Ebrisa was trapped in the ring of fire with the lanky creature and scrambled to her feet. She had spent so much time working on the basics that Vivienne hadn't been able to tutor her on combat magic yet. Trembling, she raised her staff in front of her and tried to figure out what to do. The demon reared back its clawed hand for a strike and the mage quickly threw up a barrier. It protected her from the hit, but she couldn't stay on the defensive forever. She was alone with the creature and had to defeat it or she would be killed.

She frantically ran through the spells she had read in numerous tomes and hoped she could put something to use without the practical training. A spell jumped to the front of her mind and blocked out all other options. The mage took a calming breath and swung her staff back, thrusting her hand towards the demon and mouthing a silent incantation. Fire exploded from within the demon and it screeched in pain. Ebrisa pressed forward, chain casting as she had practiced, sending flame bolts to her target in rapid succession. Once she had pressed the demon to the fire wall, it threw back its head and let out a terrible howl. Ebrisa lost her concentration and stumbled backwards, the flame barrier dissipating. The terror demon warped beneath her again, tossing her unbalanced form against the stone beacon. A loud crack echoed in her head and pain rushed up her right arm as her vision began to darken. A barrage of arrows hit the demon, stopping its advance and redirecting its attention.

“Your worship!”

The last thing Ebrisa saw was the hazy form of Scout Harding rushing to her side.

~~~~~~

A pulsating warmth coated Ebrisa's arm as she stirred back to the waking world. Vivienne sat at her side in the tent, weaving a healing spell around the broken bone. The enchanter took notice of her patient's waking and shook her head once.

“My dear, what ever possessed you to fight a demon on your own?”

“I-” Ebrisa began to answer, but was cut off as Hawke burst into the tent.

“What part of stay in camp do you not understand?!” The Inquisitor didn't wait for a reply. “You are lucky Harding and the others heard that terror demon. You would have been killed!” She finally stopped her anger fueled shouting and took several calming breaths. Hawke turned to the tent wall and sighed before moving to Ebrisa. She knelt down and placed a hand on her left shoulder. “Herald, loosing you would be a travesty. We need you not only for closing the Breach, but also to get our soldiers back.”

Ebrisa closed her eyes and sat up, ignoring Vivienne's protests. “I was helping with requisitions. That beacon had a rune on it and I thought it could be helpful.” She bit her lip and tried to mask her pained expression. “I didn't know lighting the veil fire would attract undead and summon a demon. The last one didn't do anything like that.” She tested her right arm. It was sore and she couldn't raise it very high, but the bone was definitely mended. “I didn't go out there with the intention of fighting anything. I stayed clear of the water and kept the camp in sight... I thought I was being careful.”

Vivienne smiled at the younger mage. “Of course you were, my dear. Perhaps if the Inquisitor hadn't ignored the beacon outright, this wouldn't have happened.”

Hawke huffed. “We were looking for Avvar and rifts, not weird monuments. And don't turn this around on me!”

“Then let us say this is no one's fault and put it behind us.” The enchanter helped Ebrisa to her feet. “We found a rift with an Avvar standing watch. Won't you come with us?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Inquisitor grinned ear to ear as she ran her fingers over her newly acquired great ax. “I should give it a name, right?” She asked Cassandra as they walked towards the Chantry. “All good weapons have names.”

“I believe it already has a name,” the Seeker replied while opening the large door. “Gift of the Mountain Father?”

Hawke swiped a dismissive hand through the air. “Pssh, no thank you. It needs a more Inquisitiony name.” The two continued on to the main room for debriefing.

Despite the initial set back in the Fallow Mire, the Inquisition had been successful. The rifts sealed, the troops saved, and the Avvar defeated. The soldiers, unfortunately, did not fair well in captivity. Their wounds were minor, but many had contracted the plague while stuffed in the damp castle room. Vivienne, Solas, and Adan were working on a cure together, utilizing the tissue samples and herbs collected from the bog to the best of their ability.

Ebrisa was working with the sisters to ease the suffering of the inflicted and, at their insistence, changed into Chantry robes. “The patients will be more at ease and truthful when they see the uniform,” Mother Giselle explained. “They focus on that instead of who is wearing it.”

The mage understood completely and did her best to not be in the way of those actually trained for this. She was still nursing her right arm, but she tried her best to not let it hinder her as she bustled around the healing tent, learning what she could on basic mending. “We need more water,” One sister called out. Ebrisa jumped up and dashed out the tent with two empty pails, rushing towards the well.

She found it odd, yet strangely calming to be wearing the Chantry clothing. Most people ignored her outright, having seen dozens of clergy bustling about everyday. To be able to blend in and be neither revered, feared, or hated was a great weight off her shoulders. She arrived at the well and filled her pails without incident, but soon found she had been far too eager. Ebrisa lifted both buckets and cried out, dropping them to the ground and falling to her knees. Pain shot up her right arm and she held it tightly with her left hand as she bit her lip to hold back further sounds.

A soldier came rushing over to her and took a knee beside her. “Are you alright, uh, Sister?”

Ebrisa looked up at the soldier, not recognizing the face or armor. “Aggravated an injury, I'm afraid.” She stood up cautiously and turned towards the well, dropping the water pail back down.

“Oh, let me help.” The soldier took over and refilled the buckets.

“Are you,” Ebrisa began hesitantly. “Are you a new recruit? I haven't seen you around before.”

“Oh, no Sister.” The soldier ran a hand though his short hair. “I'm with a mercenary group, The Bull's Chargers. Name's Cremecius.” He extended his hand in greeting and Ebrisa shook it awkwardly.

“Good to meet you, Ser Cremecius.” She said with a polite smile. The fighter quickly withdrew his hand and coughed, looking away. “I didn't know the Inquisition was employing mercenaries.”

“They aren't, at least, not yet.” They picked up the full buckets, one each at Ebrisa's insistence, and headed back to the infirmary. “That's actually why I'm here. The Chief, Iron Bull that is, thinks your Inquisitor could use our services.” Krem rolled his eyes. “Haven't been able to give the higher ups the message and I'm due back already.”

“I could deliver it for you, Ser Cremecius.” Ebrisa looked over her shoulder at the mercenary and gave a small smile. “It's no trouble and you have been very kind. Its the least I could do.”

Krem coughed again, looking off to the side. “That would be helpful, thanks.” They arrived at the infirmary and dumped their buckets into the water barrel. “We'll be at the Storm Coast keeping your shores bandit free. Iron Bull invites your Inquisitor to come check us out. If she likes what she sees, negotiations for our services are open.”

The mage nodded. “I'll tell them. Safe travels.”

Krem waved awkwardly and left Haven, stopping only once to look at the injured sister.

It was late and most of Haven was sleeping in their warm blankets. Any sane person would surely be asleep, honestly. Josephine leaned back in her chair and gave a hearty stretch above her head. There was a small pop and she relaxed. “Much better,” she sighed and massaged her stiff hand.

“Josie?” The ambassador jumped with a start as Leliana walked soundlessly into the lit room. “What are you still doing up?”

Josephine regained her composure. “I could ask the same of you.”

Leliana sat on the edge of the desk and waved a hand through the air. “Waiting for a messenger bird to return. Don't tell me you're still working.”

“There is only one letter left unanswered. I am uncertain how to respond.” Josephine picked up the parchment and handed it over. “It is from a relative of our Herald. They accuse us of using the family name falsely and are demanding compensation.”

The bard made short work of the message and frowned. “To claim an honored member of House Trevelyan to be a mage is slander in the highest offense?” She lowered the parchment slowly. “This is troubling. Most Circle registries were destroyed at the start of the rebellion. We are just taking the Herald's word for her identity.”

“There is an Ebrisa Trevelyan that was born in Ostwick.” Josephine brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Isn't there some way to prove our Herald is the same woman?”

Leliana stared silently at the wall for several moments. “Go to sleep, Josie. I have some letters to write.”

Chapter Text

Haven had returned to its normal bustling with all traces of plague eradicated. The scouts captured by the Avvar owed their lives twice to Ebrisa, but she quickly directed all credit to the Inquisitor. Ebrisa faced the Hand of Korth, but Hawke defeated him. Ebrisa spotted the diseased corpses, but Hawke plunged into the stagnant water and fought off undead to retrieve them. On the other side, Vivienne, Solas, and Adan created the cure, but it was Ebrisa who helped wipe sweaty brows and freshen linens. She had thought wearing the Chantry robes would hide her among the Sisters, but every soldier whose hand she held or spoke soft words of comfort to knew at once it was her. Having the Herald of Andraste taking a personal interest in their care filled them with warmth and helped mend them all the quicker.

Hawke, Sera, Cassandra, and Vivienne had all left for the Hinterlands the day prior. Dennet had sent horses, as promised, but did not come himself to the snowy mountain.

“What's the point of getting horses without their master?” Hawke had fumed, feeling slighted. If Cassandra's plea of duty didn't persuade him, perhaps Vivienne could use the old man's pride against him. Before they departed, Leliana had given the Inquisitor a small note and nodded.

Ebrisa had wanted to go with them, but both Hawke and Vivienne refused. Her arm was mostly healed, but they didn't want her in any sort of fight just yet. So now she stood in the stables, brushing out the more exotic mounts gifted to the Inquisition with her left hand. The red hart nudged her with its head and broke the mage from her musings.

“My Lady Herald? You awake?” Harrit called again from the forge.

“Ah, yes, sorry.” Ebrisa rubbed at her forehead in embarrassment. She quickly stroked the hart's nose in thanks before making her way to the stone wall of the pen. “What can I do for you, Master Harrit?”

The man shook his head. “That again.”

“A position of respect, such as yours, deserves a respectful title.” Ebrisa smiled softly and the blacksmith sighed in defeat.

“Very well, my lady.” He lifted a leather pouch and set it on the half-wall. “You recall all that ore you gave to Threnn? Well, neither of us know what to make of these.”

Ebrisa opened the pouch and withdrew one of the shards. “I know they are small, but you can't use them at all?”

“I'm afraid not,” the man leaned back and folded his arms, lifting one hand to play at his mustache. “Can't file them down, can't drill them, don't even have a crucible hot enough to melt the things. I'm afraid all that could be done with them is jewelry and my hands have no place with delicate works. Thought it best to return them to you.”

“I see.” The mage looked almost disappointed as she took the small bag. “Thank you, Master Harrit.”

He watched as she hung up her brush and grabbed a rough-spun blanket from the stack. Ebrisa laid the cloth over the hart and glided her fingers one more time down its nose, the creature stomping its hoof in appreciation as she left the stables.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” Varric called out as Ebrisa ascended the steps. “What's that you got there?”

The mage looked up from the shard in her hand and chewed her bottom lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Just did, but give it another go.” The dwarf smiled widely as Ebrisa walked over to him and extended her hand.

“Have you seen this before? I ask you as a merchant,” she quickly added to prevent teasing.

Varric held the shard up to the sun and squinted an eye as he gazed into it. “Not a gem or crystal I've come across before, but I don't really see much of the actual wares.”

Ebrisa frowned and looked inside the pouch. “Serrah Threnn and Master Harrit can't seem to do anything with them.”

“Where'd you get it?” Varric handed the shard back.

“The Hinterlands... um...” Ebrisa suddenly seemed embarrassed. “Do you remember those poles with the skulls on top?”

Varric shuddered and folded his arms. “Yeah. The Crossroads needs a better decorator. “

“Well, when you all left me behind, I heard one... how do I put this?” The mage rubbed her forehead. “It was whispering, I guess? I couldn't make anything out and the more I focused, the less sense it made. I, um, I looked through them and found these shards.”

Varric stiffened and suddenly became serious. “Are these crystal shards whispering to you now? Do you feel compelled to do anything?”

Ebrisa furrowed her brow in confusion. “What? No. After I looked through the skulls, the whispering stopped.”

He relaxed instantly. “Well if its not an ore or mineral we can use, it may be mystic. Definitely found under strange circumstances. Ask Leliana or Ruffles to look into it.”

It was true, the spymaster and ambassador were certainly well connected with all sorts of merchants and researchers. Ebrisa thanked the storyteller and made her way to Leliana's tent, holding the closed pouch tightly. There was something about the Left Hand of the Divine that frightened her. The woman was often smiling and laughing with the war council members, but whenever she was speaking with her agents... there was a ruthlessness that took over her entire being. She was a veteran of the fifth Blight and an Orlesian bard before that - Ebrisa couldn't even imagine what the spymaster has seen.

The mage stopped just outside the tent and gripped the pouch to her chest. Leliana was getting a report.

The Orlesian shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “You know what must be done. Make it clean, painless, if you can.” She told her agent. “He was a friend, once.” Leliana seemed almost displeased with herself. Whatever the business was, it did not seem to sit well with her and Ebrisa wondered why make a decision you felt was wrong.

“What are you doing?” Ebrisa slipped a hand over her mouth - she hadn't meant to actually speak out loud.

Leliana pushed off the table and turned to the onlooker quickly. “Dealing with a traitor, your worship. He murdered Farrier, a good man and trusted agent.” She leveled her eyes on the mage. “No matter how good someone tries to hide lies, they will always slip up.” She added coolly and Ebrisa couldn't help but shiver slightly.

“You,” Ebrisa stopped and gathered herself. “You said make it clean . You're going to kill him?”

Leliana turned her head away slightly. “Of course. Traitors must be dealt with. Do you find fault in my decision?” The Orlesian didn't even try to mask her annoyance.

“You can't solve one murder with another.” Ebrisa was surprised at the firmness in her own voice. “Especially so rashly.”

Leliana would have laughed had she not been so angry. This mage had no idea what it took to protect the Inquisition. “What would you have me do? Leave him be?” Anger, desperation, and frustration bubbled up inside her. “Butler knows where the others are and who's to say he won't harm them as well? I condemn one man to save dozens!” She took a step forward, rage seeping out. “I may not like what I do, but it must be done. I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this!” She turned away from the cowering mage, her anger subsiding. Perhaps she shouldn't have shouted at the Herald so. It wasn't Ebrisa's fault she knew nothing of the real world.

“You're wrong,” Ebrisa began quietly as she looked down. Leliana turned around slowly, ready to berate the younger woman. “With the Chantry chaotic and no one to direct us on what's right and wrong, we need to listen to ourselves. Our ideals, our conscience, our faith – we have to listen to what our heart is saying to us.” Ebrisa looked up and met the spymaster's eyes. “Sister Leliana, if you don't like what you're doing, isn't that a sign you shouldn't be doing it?”

Leliana turned back to her table to regain her composure. “That is one way to look at it, I suppose,” she finally relented. “Very well, I will think of another way to deal with him.” She gave a new set of orders to her agent and sighed. “Now if you're happy, I have work to do.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry to disrupt.” Ebrisa stepped out of the tent and back into the wind before remembering why she had come by. Glancing over her shoulder, she decided to ask Josephine about the shards instead. A sister scrambled to open the Chantry door, leaving Ebrisa to awkwardly smile and nod in thanks.

The Chantry had certainly become more inviting since Mother Giselle established herself. She took charge of the scattered sisters and clerics, giving them a unified direction and mission. Despite the majority of the building being occupied by the Inquisition, Hawke agreed to set aside a good sized room for services, now that they were being held again. Ebrisa had tried attending, but others kept turning to look at her instead of the leading sister. If there was anyone besides Mother Giselle at the makeshift pulpit, they would freeze up and stumble over their words once they spotted the mage. What could they preach to the Herald of Andraste? As a result, the Herald would stand outside the door, close her eyes, and listen to the sermons from the hall. That room was empty at the moment, so Ebrisa ducked in and lit a candle, sending a silent plea to the Maker.

“Does something trouble you, child?”

Ebrisa turned around slowly to face the voice. “No, Revered Mother. Well, yes,” she relented, “but no more than usual.” She collected her pouch and smiled meekly. “I was just praying for the Inquisitor's party to have a safe return. Lady Hawke can be reckless at times...”

“Your concern is endearing, but I believe they will be fine. The Hinterlands is a much safer place now, thanks to the Inquisition's efforts.” Ebrisa darted her eyes down and struggled to keep a pleasant smile on her face. Mother Giselle shook her head and moved to the candles. “You still hold on to that perceived failing? My child, you can not fault yourself for not knowing what was never taught to you.”

“I've tried to learn to fight, but I'm... I'm afraid I'll hurt someone. I can't always control it, Revered Mother. What if my magic flares out and I harm an ally or innocent? I can't...” The mage shut her eyes tight and let out a long breath.

“Madame Vivienne tells me you are progressing well.”

Ebrisa stiffened. “You've talked to her?”

“Of course, I talk to many people. Madame Vivienne is quite fond of you and only wishes what's best for you. She says you are holding back and now I see why.” Giselle gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind Ebrisa's ear. “Magic is just like any other weapon. It can be dangerous, but proper training and practice – like you are doing now – will enable you to wield it as you need to. Skills must be kept sharp if they are to be used safely. Do not let your fear get in your way.”

“Yes, Revered Mother, I will try.”

“That is all I can ask.”

Josephine furrowed her brow at the oddly written request Sera had left on her desk. “Bees? How does she expect to weaponize bees?”

“Would you like me to look into that as well, Lady Montilyet?” The researcher asked while sorting her various samples.

“Oh, no, that is quite alright, Minaeve,” Josephine set the note to the side for the council to discuss. She had a sinking feeling Hawke would agree. “You have far more important tasks on your plate.”

There was a timid knock on the door, to which Josephine promptly responded with an invitation. Ebrisa walked in and performed a small curtsy to which Josephine smiled and inclined her head in a short, seated bow. Once the mage had learned Josephine was heir to her noble house – though it was in small standings – she insisted on at least some modicum of formal greeting as befitting the position. Vivienne and Cassandra would allow no such thing, but Hawke claimed she would accept a salute so long as the mage smiled. The ambassador, however, thought it best to encourage the decorum of nobility. If nothing else, she could judge how much the mage truly knew of noble life.

“Greetings, Lady Herald. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, thank you, Lady Montilyet.” Ebrisa crossed the room and presented her pouch of crystal fragments. “I found these in the Hinterlands under, shall we say, mystic circumstances.”

Josephine held a shard in her palm and glanced over to Minaeve. “Could you elaborate more on the mysticism?” Ebrisa fidgeted, embarrassed, but explained the elaborate posts and whisperings.

Minaeve raised a brow and examined a piece. “There's no aura or enchantment on them now, but that is quite the elaborate discovery method, I'll give you that.”

“I could, perhaps, contact some scholars.” Josephine seemed uncertain is it was worth the effort. “After the Inquisitor's approval, of course.”

“Yes, of course. You're time is valuable.” Ebrisa dipped her head. “Thank you, Lady Montilyet.” She bobbed in a small curtsy once again. “By your leave.”

“I was wondering, your worship, if we might chat a bit?”

Ebrisa had little success in hiding her surprise, with her cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly. “I... yes, of course. That would be delightful.” She smiled shyly and took the offered seat in front of the covered, yet organized, desk.

Josephine smiled back, though not as pleased. Leliana was trying to vet the accusations against the Herald's claimed heritage, but Josephine felt her extensive knowledge of nobility might be able to catch Ebrisa in a lie without tipping their hand. The Antivan wanted to believe everything about the mage sitting in front of her but if anything were to come out publicly to disprove one single aspect, the Inquisition would look the worse for it.

“Isn't it about time for Lady Trevelyan's Summer Ball? I fear we shall miss it this year.”

Ebrisa sat up straighter in realization. “You've attended Great Aunt Lucille's Summer Ball?”

Josephine smiled at the mention of the correct relative. “Of course. The Montilyets have been long running guests for the event. Though it is strange that I don't recall seeing you there.”

The mage suddenly looked very sad, ashamed almost. “When I was little, it was my favorite time on the year – even more than Satinalia.”

“That's quite the feat for a child.” Josephine leaned back in her chair and smiled at the idea of a young girl turning away gifts in favor of a politician heavy dance.

“I'm sure you understand the pride of seeing so many people come from across the nation for a family-run event. The dancing, the music, oh – and the dresses.” The mage sighed wistfully at the memory. “As my magic began to present itself... Mother kept me in the study after I greeted everyone. I'd sit and read as the songs drifted down the hallway. Sometimes there would be dancing outside and I could watch from the window. But eventually, she would make excuses for me and turn down invitations for other social events.” Ebrisa looked at her gloved hands, eyes heavy with sorrow. “They stopped coming after a while. Not even the Summerday procession."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, my Lady Herald. Good to see you've mended.” Scout Harding approached the mage after giving her report to Hawke. The dwarf had been more than a little concerned about Ebrisa's recovery and felt responsible for the whole thing in the Fallow Mire. If only she had kept a closer eye on the mage or not given her busy work.

When Ebrisa smiled warmly at her, all anxiety melted away and the dwarf quickly returned the gesture.

“We're going now,” Hawke called out from the edge of camp. “Signal us if those bandits return, and Herald? Don't go messing with elven magic.”

“That goes double for you, Elfy,” Sera thrust an arrow in Solas' face as they headed off down the hill. He responded in elven, causing Sera to curse and toss her hands in the air.

Hawke turned to their new, grizzled companion and smiled. “They like to push eachother's buttons. Isn't it cute?” Blackwall gave a hearty laugh before the two disappeared down the path.

Ebrisa stood silently in the rain, watching the waves in the distance and enjoying the scent of the sea. It took her back to her childhood and the monthly trips to the beach her younger self enjoyed. There was a lingering smell of rotting wood and spindleweed spoiling the illusion. She blinked away the memories and sighed. This was the same sea, but it wasn't her sea.

Just as she was about to head inside a damp tent, she heard the familiar whispering of the skull post. She tried to ignore it and spent enough time turning back and forth to draw Harding over.

“Is... everything alright, your worship?” The dwarf began cautiously as she approached.

“I, yes.” Ebrisa let the tent flap drop and turned to Harding. “Would you accompany me out of camp? It's not far.”

The scout paused a moment, unsure at first. “If its not for too long, it should be fine.” Ebrisa smiled and headed towards the whispering voices. They found the elaborate post at the crest of a nearby hill. “What is that ?” Harding exclaimed at the sight of the thing.

“Listen closely,” Ebrisa spoke in a soft tone. “Do you hear that?”

Harding strained at first but took a sudden step back. “Sweet Andraste, is that talking?!”

“These were all over the Hinterlands too. If you look through the large crystal here, it will illuminate these shards...” Ebrisa took hold of the skull and swiveled it around like a telescope. “I don't know what its for, but Lady Montilyet said she would look into it.” She took a few moments to scour the terrain through the device until nothing else sparkled.

“It stopped?” Harding walked closer to the post and looked it over carefully. “Should we make note of these on our scouting reports?”

“I wouldn't want to further burden you.”

Harding waved a hand dismissively. “No trouble at all. Honest.”

They returned to camp and waited for Hawke to come back. According to the scouts, there were a few rifts in the area, but quiet a bit in. Ebrisa had nothing to do but sit and wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa jolted awake in the oddly dry tent at a sudden commotion in the camp. She took a moment to adjust her sleep disheveled robes and hair before stepping out into the still present rain. Hawke was standing at a table, fiddling with some sort of amulet, and Harding had a few maps spread out for some new people – one of which was a very large qunari. The mage awkwardly approached them, noticing the crew nearby packing up.

“Oh, your worship,” Harding said as she saw her approach. “The Inquisitor is back, though I guess you figured that out.”

“I should hope so.” Hawke smirked as she looked up from the now finished amulet. She slid the item around her neck and shrugged. “So, we're going to the Blades of Hessarian's fort, but let me introduce you're new best friend first.” The Inquisitor gestured an energetic hand to the qunari.

He turned to Ebrisa and let out a deep, hearty laugh, completely undermining his menacing appearance. “The Iron Bull, Herald,” he said, voice laced with lingering mirth. “Leader of the Bull's Chargers and your new bodyguard.”

Ebrisa looked between Bull and Hawke in confusion. “Bodyguard?” Perhaps she was still sleeping.

“That's right,” Sera pipped in from a nearby crate. “Gotta get the glowy one to the bad glowy bits safely.” She snickered suddenly. “Glowy bits.”

A soldier walked up to the qunari. “We're all packed up and ready to head out, Chief.”

Iron Bull stepped back to face his lieutenant. “Good work, Krem. You remember the way to Haven?”

Ebrisa leaned forward to see around the qunari. Wouldn't that be... “Ser Cremisius?”

“Yes?” The soldier switched gazes to meet the mage. After a moment, realization hit him and he ducked back out of sight.

“So the Lady Herald remembers our Cremisius? Krem didn't mention meeting you.” Bull hummed in thought. “Talked a lot about a sister...”

Ebrisa smiled sheepishly, embarrassed at the memory. “We had many wounded and Mother Giselle insisted I change into Chantry robes if I were to assist. Ser Cremisius helped me a bit.”

Iron Bull began a low chuckle as he looked over his second. “So the sister you spoke of was the Herald? Oh Krem, that makes it so much worse.”

“Well, good to see you again. Uh, your worship,” Krem quickly said. “We really ought to leave now. See you at Haven.” He coughed and walked briskly away, refusing to look Ebrisa in the eye. She stood confused for a moment. Had she offended him somehow?

“Don't worry about it, your worship. Krem can be a little funny sometimes.” Bull let out a final chuckle before getting back to business. “You ready, Boss?”

Hawke cracked her knuckles. “Absolutely. Let's go challenge us a bandit leader.” Hawke's group and Iron Bull began to head out of the camp, but she paused and turned around.”Herald? You coming?”

Ebrisa dropped her mouth open slightly in shock. “I... I can go with you? I won't be in the way?”

“That's what I'm here for, little lady,” Iron Bull dipped his head and grinned.

“You'll be needing these, your worship.” Harding held out a loaded potions belt and Ebrisa's staff, smiling widely.

Ebrisa smiled back excitedly and secured the belt. “Thank you, Scout Harding.”

“Good luck,” the dwarf whispered with a wink. The mage nodded and took hold of her staff, eager to show Hawke how she had improved.

Chapter Text

Vivienne was an excellent instructor. She was able to help Ebrisa take the spells and incantations she had read about and walk her through the practical application. Since Ebrisa had studied so many tomes and scrolls in the Circle, she picked things up remarkably fast. The only thing holding her back was her magic focus. On that point, the First Enchanter had tried just about everything she could think of to ease the girl from her tight control.

This was the reason that the Herald was now slowly approaching the elven apostate with unsure steps. Solas was sitting on a large, flat rock overlooking the frozen lake with his eyes closed and legs crossed. Ebrisa could still faintly make out the sounds of sword practice behind her and wondered if she should just go back. She stopped a few yards behind Solas and hesitated.

“Did you need something, Herald?”

Ebrisa jumped at the sudden voice. “Yes, I mean no, you look busy. I must be bothering you.” She stumbled over her words and repeatedly looked around. “I should go, sorry to disrupt you, Master Solas.”

The elf sighed and stood up. “You certainly seem like you need something. Fear not, I was doing nothing overly important.” He turned to face the somewhat calmed mage. “Now then, what can I do for you?”

“Well.” Ebrisa rubbed her forehead. “I have trouble trusting my magic.” It was the best way she could think to describe it. “Madame Vivienne has been tutoring me like she would any of her Circle pupils, but I can't get past this. I thought, perhaps, another perspective on the arcane might help?”

“Ah.” Solas folded his arms and leaned back. “You wish to see what an apostate might teach you that your precious Circles could not? A more primitive approach to magic?”

Ebrisa quickly threw her hands up to wave the notion away. “No, Master Solas, I didn't mean...” she sighed in defeat and dropped her hands. “I apologize for coming across so disrespectful. You have learned so much on your own and show such discipline. I merely thought your connection with magic felt more spiritual than technical... forgive me.”

The elf lowered his eyes, feeling slightly ashamed for this response. “No, no, Herald. It is I that was in the wrong. You can understand the criticism apostates are normally faced with.” He tilted his head back and raised a brow. “Tell me, does Vivienne know you are coming to me?”

Ebrisa bit her lip. “No, she doesn't.”

“Interesting. Well, lets explore your philosophy of magic.”

“Philosophy?”

Solas nodded and motioned to another rock, indicating for her to have a seat. The two sat down and gazed at the snow scape. “What do you think magic is?”

“Ah, well, magic is meant to serve man, never rule over him,” Ebrisa began.

“That is a quote from the Chant of Light, I believe.” Solas shook his head. “What is the force of magic? What is its energy?”

“It is...mana...” Ebrisa tried to think. “A power that comes from the Fade. That's why we are more susceptible to possession.”

“Let me stop you there,” Solas interrupted. “You come from a devote Andrastian family, do you not?”

Ebrisa nodded.

“I see. Do you have any views of magic that weren't written by the Chantry?”

The Herald seemed confused by the question.

“The Chantry tells you that mages spoiled the Maker's throne, started the Blight, enslaved humanity, and killed Andraste. In other words, magic is bad. Tell me, what happened when your magic developed?”

“I...” Ebrisa looked at her gloved hands. “Mother kept me away from others.”

“I see. You have magic, and that is bad. Let us lock you away from the normal people. Is that about right?” Solas shook his head. “Circles are prisons for the body and mind.”

“But, magic is dangerous!” Ebrisa protested.

“Is it?” Solas scoffed. “Have you ever actually hurt someone unintentionally after your blooming?”

The Herald was silent for a long while, the snow around her on the rock began to melt away. “Yes,” she whispered out in a tight voice.

The elf took note of her shifting aura and tilted his head curiously. For another time, he told himself. “Be that as it may, I believe you fear your magic because you have had that idea beat into your head your entire life.”

He lifted his hand and sparked a small flame to life in his palm with a fluid motion. “Magic is natural. It is everywhere. The reason so many fear it is because they do not understand it.” He held the flame out to Ebrisa and motioned for her to take it. She tentatively reached out and took possession of the flame, it increased wildly in size and she began to panic.

“Calm yourself, Herald. Feel the force of the flame.”

Ebrisa took steadying breaths and reigned in the fire. She felt it pulsing in her hands and looked curiously at Solas.

“Magic is alive, a force like a river or rainstorm. Powerful, strong, but natural. It can be devastating, yes, but also beneficial. Feel the flow and adjust to match it.”

Ebrisa closed her hand, canceling out the flame, and sighed. “What about when I don't have the time to calm? What if I hurt you or someone else during a battle?”

“Trust yourself. Do you want to hurt us?”

“No, or course not!”

Solas nodded. “And those people you mentioned hurting before, did you want to hurt them?”

Heat radiated from Ebrisa, causing a small crack in the ice below. “I suppose... yes,” she answered in a quiet voice, her tone mismatching the violent flare in her aura. He took a moment to recover from his shock.

“Your instincts know who is with you and who is against you,” Solas added calmly. “Trust them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa knelt in the snow of a wide clearing and took a steadying breath. She flicked her hands in small, fluid circles, calling forth wisps of flame to her palms. She felt the thrum of their magical essence and concentrated on it. The flames shifted in size, growing large than small. Ebrisa eased them higher off her palms and tried moving them around the air.

Solas had decided it was best to explain the Fade and essence of magic instead of telling her how to control it. “You can not hope to control what you can not understand,” he had said during one of their talks. Ebrisa found she knew so little of the Fade and reveled in the stories Solas told her. She wondered if the reason she never saw the Fade as he did was because she had not traveled Thedas like the apostate. Still, his words helped ease some of her anxiety.

She stood slowly and moved her arms fluidly around, directing the flames, and she couldn't help but smile. Fire spells were always the first to come to her mind in times of trouble and there was something almost soothing in the way it flickered.

“Mage, what are you doing out past curfew?”

Ebrisa turned suddenly towards the angry voice, bringing the flames around with her. She heard a sword being drawn and words stuck in her throat. She had hoped to practice while Haven slept and thought she was far enough away from the patrol route.

“Dispell your magic at once and explain yourself!”

The only one to see her training had been Cullen. How was she to explain her inadequacies to the guardsman? She couldn't even see him past the fire's light. There was a sharp noise as the sword pierced the frozen ground, then an all too familiar wave rushed through her and canceled the fire. Ebrisa fell to the ground, gasping for breath as her entire being ached and prickled. “No...” she wheezed out. “Stay back... it's dangerous.”

She heard the guard, who she now knew to be one of their former templars, stand and retrieve his sword. He took a step forward and Ebrisa squeezed her eyes shut as her heart pounded in her chest.

Fire erupted from her and formed a barrier, growing drastically in size. The guard back peddled away from the burning wall all the way into the tree line. The flames licked at the trees and caught several ablaze. He quickly grabbed the horn at his side and blew it in three short bursts to signal for aid. He began kicking snow at the base of the barrier in an attempted to put it out. Others soon arrived and the flames were quickly dealt with before more trees caught ablaze.

“Report, recruit. What happened here?” Cullen held a lantern aloft, examining the damaged trees and noting the flame had to have been magical.

“Ser!” The templar saluted. “I saw flames in the woods and came to investigate. I found this mage wielding fire and disrupted her magic. She must have cast another spell right before...” The recruit seemed unsure of his own words as he tried to figure out what happened.

Cullen walked cautiously to the center of the clearing where Ebrisa still lay. He stiffened at the sight of her and looked back over his shoulder at his men. “The damage isn't too severe. I will deal with this mage. You may return to your patrols.”

“But, Ser,” the recruit began.

“Dismissed!”

The men quickly gathered the buckets and blankets they brought to stop the fire and left. The commander knelt beside Ebrisa and set the lantern in the snow. She was pale and beaded in sweat, her hair knocked out into loose braids and her face streaked with tears. “My Lady Herald?” He began slowly, trying to ease her to his presence.

Ebrisa opened her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat as her heart began pounding all over again. “Cullen?”

“Can you sit up?” He helped her rise and looked her over more closely. “I take it you were training in secret again?”

She nodded. “I thought I was far enough away.”

“Fire is much more visible at night, even if you were twice as far off, which I do not recommend.” He gave her a half smile, but she would not meet his eyes.

“Did...did I hurt him?”

Cullen blinked in confusion. “The patrolman? No, he is a little baffled, is all.” Cullen paused. “He said he disrupted your magic. I know that can be quite painful for some mages.”

“It is like all the air around you is gone and your body is not your own. There is pain, yes, such pain...” She looked up at Cullen pleadingly. “You are certain he was not harmed? When I'm like that, I can't control it! Someone always gets hurt.” Her eyes began to tear up and her frame trembled.

Cullen brushed a tear from her cheek and paused. He took her face in his hands and frowned in concern. “Herald, you are freezing! Is it your magic that keeps you warm? Come, we must get you back to Haven.” He undid his cloak and wrapped the blushing mage in it before positioning his arms around her. “Could you grab the lantern? The mountain is terribly dark.”

Ebrisa awkwardly set the lantern in her lap and squeaked as Cullen effortless scooped her up. They walked in silence for a while, Ebrisa watching the flame dance in its glass cage. She could feel the discomfort slipping away and warmth radiating from Cullen through his metal armor. He carried her with such ease and care, taking slower steps to ensure she wouldn't be jostled too much. She had seen him carry wounded soldiers by supporting them as they walked, but would he hold anyone else the way he held her now?

“You said that this has happened before?” Cullen asked softly, bringing Ebrisa back to the moment.

“It has.” She sighed mournfully. “More times than I would have liked.”

“Is this why you fear templars so?”

Ebrisa tapped her fingers on the glass. “It is part of the reason,” she relented after a moment. “This is also partly why I fear myself.”

Cullen glanced down at the frail figure in his arms and couldn't help but frown. Were they putting too much pressure on the Herald too quickly?

They went the rest of the way in silence. Cullen awkwardly opened her door and set her still weak form gently on her bed. He saw to the fireplace and didn't turn around until there was a strong blaze going.

“Thank you for tonight, Cullen,” Ebrisa said, barely above a whisper. “I didn't want anyone to ever see me like that again, but if someone had to, I'm glad it was you.” She looked up at him and gave a weak smile as she held out his cloak. “You are very kind. I don't think I could have lasted this long in Haven without you.”

Cullen took his cloak and tried to hide his blush by turning away. “You give yourself too little credit, Herald.” Ebrisa flinched. “Don't push yourself too hard with the training, alright? Good night.”

“Good night.” She turned her head away and waited for the door to close. “He is kind to me because that is who he is, and I am the Herald. Nothing more.” The mage removed her robe and slipped under the covers. She could not bring herself to pray that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

“A temple in an oasis?” Hawke squinted her eyes at the indicated spot on the map. “No kidding, huh?”

“Preliminary reports indicate the Oasis was once site to a mining camp. The temple itself remains a mystery,” Leliana set her hands behind her back. “Should we arrange an expedition?”

Hawke nodded and pushed off of the table. “Time to see what the Herald has lead us to.” She paused a moment and twisted the end of her hair. “We need to get her better armor now that she is staying with me.”

“I have a few ideas on that,” Josephine jotted a note down quickly. “I will pass them to Master Harrit at once.”

The Inquisitor smiled and excited the room, followed soon after by Cullen. Josephine made to leave, but Leliana held her back. “I've received several contradicting reports about Lady Trevelyan.” She closed the door to ensure secrecy. “There are rumors of practically everything but being a mage. She's dead, she's a templar, she's run off to Antiva... those are all from the commoners, of course. It is a consensus among the nobility that Ebrisa Trevelyan is following the family tradition by studying in a cloister in or around Markham.” Leliana frowned. “Normally, it would be easy to check Chantry records, but given our current relationship with them...”

“Its obvious the family abhors magic,” Josephine sighed. “There is the possibility the Trevelyans lied about what became of their daughter. The Herald told me she was kept from many social events. If she was not in the public eye, it would be easy to make up any circumstance for her absence.”

“You believe her then?”

Josephine paused and set down her writing board. “What would she gain from such a claim? The family would quickly dismiss such lies or the true Ebrisa would step forward. She could have selected any number of names or homes – the Conclave was the perfect place to become someone else.” She turned around to face her friend. “This woman we have among us has yet to do a single selfish thing. She helps where she can. I do not think her even capable of lying.”

“We need to get to the bottom of this, Josie. Do you trust your heart enough to wager our reputation on it?”

The ambassador stood up straighter. “Then we go to the source, Ebrisa's mother. We present her with the claims, a description of the Herald, and the good work she is helping us accomplish. Perhaps Mother Giselle has a contact in Markham she could write?”

Leliana agreed. “Have Giselle reach out, but we must bring the Inquisitor up to speed before contacting any Trevelyan.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa dismounted from the red hart and gave him an affectionate neck rub. “You are going to need a good, thorough brushing to get all this sand out. Poor thing.” Stable hands came up and lead the group's mounts away to be feed and cleaned. Only Dennet was permitted to pick the hooves and he took great pride in keeping the mounts in prime condition.

Hawke was still marveling at her new resistance to the cold and began to run around in the snow. The oasis was indeed beautiful and the temple itself useful, at least for the Inquisitor. Ebrisa and Iron Bull had stayed behind at the main entrance; Bull had not thought the root infested, wet temple to be structurally sound enough for his charge.

Now they were home, with Hawke rolling around in snow drifts and Ebrisa kept out of the stables. Iron Bull nudged the mage with his massive arm. “Hey, I think the blacksmith is trying to get your attention.”

Sure enough, Harrit was waving a pair of tongs in the air in a large beckoning motion. “Oh. Thank you, Ser Iron Bull.” Ebrisa snapped to attention and jogged lightly to the smith. “Master Harrit, how do you fair?”

“Better than you, by the looks of it, your worship,” he laughed. The entire party was still shaking sand out of their hair and clothing and Ebrisa had gotten particularly beat by the wind,

“Ah, I'm afraid these robes aren't long for this world.” She swatted at her sleeve, sending a small poof of sand into the air.

“Good timing then. I just finished the special order.”

“Special order?”

Harrit ignored the puzzled response and picked up a long, red tunic from his workbench. “Normally we don't make much light armor – materials are too fine for a set up like ours – but this here is dragonling scales. Real tough for such a light hide. Got some other things here too...” He handed the enchanter's coat to Ebrisa while poking around the smithy. “Ah. Here we are.” Harrit returned with a black pair of sturdy boots and a paper package tied with twine. “Like I said, finer things can't get made here. The ambassador sent away for this lot when she gave me your order.”

“Lady Montilyet requested this for me?” The mage took the rest of her armor and felt nearly overwhelmed.

“Inquisitor's orders, she said, so went right to the top of the list.” The blacksmith nodded.

Ebrisa held the armor set tightly. It had been so long since she received a gift. Her face light up with an infectious smile, which Harrit couldn't help but catch. “Thank you, Master Harrit.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady. Only doing my job.”

She could hardly contain her excitement and hurried back to the Inquisitor. Hawke was now standing in just her armor padding and trying to goad Cullen into a snowball fight.

“You aren't at the Gallows anymore, Commander,” Hawke sighed while packing snow in her hands. “You are allowed to have some fun.”

“And when I'm not overseeing the training of your army, I'll look into that.” Cullen glanced at the discarded metal armor behind him and made a mental note for it to be properly cleaned that night to prevent rusting.

Hawke perked up as she saw Ebrisa approach and slowly smirked behind her snowball. “So Cullen, I've been wondering something. Templars are part of the Chantry, right?”

“They are, well, were, as the case currently stands.”

“Well, Chantry officials take vows.” Hawke titled her head. “Did you guys?”

“Of sorts.” Cullen shifted his weight.

Hawke hummed in thought. “What about, say, vows of celibacy?”

Cullen choked on nothing and began coughing. “Why... why are you asking this?” He sputtered between coughs.

“I want to know what kind of men these templars are if we are going to ally with them.” The Inquisitor responded, matter-of-factly.

“There are some who vow more, though it it not required.” He folded his arms and leaned away.

“I see.” Hawke nodded and dropped her melting pile of snow. “What about you? Are you pure in mind and body?”

“I... have made no such vows...” Cullen shook his head suddenly, cheeks reddening. “Could we please discuss something else? Maker's Breath...”

The Inquisitor let out a deep laugh.”Okay, okay.” She stepped back and cleared her throat. “Did you have a question for our commander, Herald?”

Ebrisa stood frozen in place a few feet away, face bright red. She gripped the package in her arms tightly and didn't know how to respond. Cullen turned away, mortified at the realization that she had overheard them.

“No, I,” the mage began meekly. “I just... wanted to thank you, Inquisitor, for the new armor.” She tried to will her legs to move, but felt too overwhelmed. How could Hawke just ask that? Why?!

“Oh? Josephine got on that quick.” Hawke inspected the folded hide armor briefly. “Bull can only protect you so much, Herald.” She patted Ebrisa's shoulder before picking up her own bits of armor and headed though the gates, but not before Cullen spun around and pelted her in the back of the head with a snowball. Hawke twisted around in surprise, but quickly started laughing and continued inside the gates.

Cullen dusted the stray snow from his gloves and let out a huff of frustration. “Apologies, your worship. I'm certain she was only trying to tease me, not embarrass you. Tact has never been her strong suit, which is why we have an ambassador.” He glanced at the mage, cheeks still tinged red, and rubbed the back of his neck. “So... are you enjoying being out in the field more?”

Ebrisa instantly brightened and met Cullen's eyes.”Yes, I am. Ser Iron Bull is very attentive, so I haven't fought much. Still, being out there with the Inquisitor really makes me feel important.”

“You are important, Herald,” Cullen turned fully towards her.

“Yes, closing the Breach, of course.” She squeezed her left hand and lowered her eyes.

“I did not mean -” Cullen began.

“-Commander!” An officer ran up to them, report in hand. “Commander, Ser Talum sends progress on clearing the pass.”

“About time,” Cullen groaned as he took the parchment to glance it over. “The sooner that road is cleared, the sooner our troops have a safe passage.” He looked up from the report and noticed Ebrisa had already left.

~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting and people had gone off to supper. Ebrisa snuck past Bull's tent and into the stables with all the stealth she could muster, constantly looking around. Seeing no one, she approached the red hart and rubbed his neck only to frown at the traces of sand. “Good thing I came by to give you a treat, hmm?” She removed her gloves and pulled a handful of acorns out of her bag for the hart to enjoy. The creature eagerly ate the nuts and licked her hand as the mage giggled softly. “You know the rules. Don't tell Master Dennet, or we will both be in trouble.”

Ebrisa turned around to fetch the stiffest brush and gasped in surprised to see Blackwall leaning on the fence with smile on his face. “And what have we here?” The warden chuckled.

“I didn't think anyone was around...”

“If you weren't talking to the animals, I may not have noticed you either.” He said with an amused shake of his head.

The mage fidgeted a bit before awkwardly grabbing the brush from its peg. “The-there's still sand in the hart's fur. Since its so thick, you really have to take your time with it...”

“And you knew the stable hands wouldn't do a good job?”

“I... well, I noticed Master Dennet's men treat the red hart like the other mounts, but he's not a horse.” She began to brush with long, firm strokes. “They have a lot to do, so I thought I'd just pick up the slack myself.”

Blackwall hummed thoughtfully. “And the acorns?”

Ebrisa blushed and looked over her shoulder at the warrior. “He likes them...”

The warden laughed heartily. “So the Herald of Andraste takes even her mount's food preference into consideration? What's the beast's name?”

“The red hart isn't mine, he's the Inquisition's.” The mage turned back to her task. “I don't think Lady Hawke has named him yet.”

“I know I haven't been here as long as the others, but you are the only one I ever see around that thing. If you don't name him, no one else will.”

Ebrisa tilted her head in thought. “I... I suppose.” She looked into the hart's eyes. “Let's see... I never had a knack for naming foals. Emery would always laugh and rename them.” She hummed quietly as she studied the animal. “Rufous? Because he's red? No, that's silly...”

The hart nudged her with its head and dug its hoof into the ground.

“I think he likes it, your worship.” Blackwall grinned and leaned back from the fence. “Don't forget to eat your own supper when you finish here. Unless someone else will sneak by and slip you a treat.”

~~~~~~

Ebrisa was still marveling at her new armor. Harrit had done a wondrous job on the enchanter's coat and boots and she felt powerful in them. Josephine had ordered a white silk blouse, leggings, and cowl to replace the worn out robes Ebrisa used to wear. They felt cool on her skin and swished as she moved.

“I don't like this,” Iron Bull grumbled at Ebrisa's side. “Asking for you like this? Seems like a trap.”

The mage bit her lower lip. “The Inquisitor doesn't seem too pleased either.”

Hawke marched the group down the road to Redcliffe, immensely agitated. When Fiona invited them back in Val Royeaux, she seemed to pop out of nowhere. Ebrisa had already gone to see Vivienne by then and the Grand Enchanter made it a point to request her. At the time, Hawke shrugged it off as wanting a mage-to-mage talk. After putting the encounter off and finally discussing it with her advisors, she came to realize how odd it was.

She did, however, at least owe the mages the chance to make an offer for alliance. The real troublemakers had been dealt with and Fiona's rebels were closed off inside the village ahead. They could talk with the Herald, but if they thought she would be alone, they had another thing coming.

Ebrisa gasped as she felt a spark run up her left arm. “There's a rift ahead,” she called out.

“What? We haven't received any reports about-” Several guards suddenly ran around the bend in a panic, cutting Hawke off.

“Demons! Stay back!” They shouted over their shoulders.

Hawke withdrew her Avvar axe and smirked. “Remind me to never doubt the Herald.” The party rushed down the road, Ebrisa throwing barriers around them just as the rift came into view and took care to stay behind Iron Bull.

He held his mighty sword at the ready and kept his distance. There was a terror demon stalking about and while they mostly attacked those that hurt it, you could never predict where they would spring up from.

Blackwall smashed his shield against a wraith, sending it into a hazy patch, and turned to attack the demon at his flank. The wraith flailed back in slow motion to catch its balance before slowly pressing forward out of the haze. Hawke lowered her weapon as she ran around a rage demon to escape his fire and strike his back. She passed through a haze and faltered in confusion as everything slowed down. A few more steps and they returned to normal.

“What in Andraste's tits?” She muttered before snapping back to the battle. Hawke had seen magic like this before, but where was the caster? Were they helping or hurting? Whatever their goal, she intended to make the most of it. “Sera! Get over here!”

The archer complied and let off an arrow as she leaped across the path. The rift sparked out in preparation for another wave by the time Sera made it over. “You got the demon, what's going on?”

“Stay right here,” Hawke pointed to her side. “Don't ask why, but you'll be much faster here.”

The elf scrunched up her face. “Its a magic thing, isn't it?”

“I said don't ask!” Hawke shouted as the demons poured through.

With the second wave well underway, Bull began to escort Ebrisa to the rift. The mage was doing her best to keep barriers up and protect the party's flanks with fire and ice glyphs. Vivienne had hoped that learning magic to counter what Ebrisa already knew would help her confidence. In a small way, it did. Ebrisa laid down an ice mine beneath herself and stretched out her hand, disrupting the rift and weakening the demons. A terror broke through the ground under her feet and instantly froze.

“Nice try,” Bull grinned widely and smashed his sword into the trapped demon, destroying it. Between Sera's lightning fast arrows and their weakened state, the demons soon fell.

Ebrisa connected with the rift once again and grit her teeth against the pull as she finally slammed the tear closed. She took a moment to recover by picking up some residue for Minaeve to look at.

“Okay, I'm asking now,” Sera waved her arms around herself to confirm everything was normal. “What was that? I don't like weird magic things!”

“Was that rift effecting time? How?” Blackwall sheathed his blade.

“Maybe Fiona will know,” Hawke sighed. The gates opened and they finally entered Redcliffe. Not only were they not expected, but the Grand Enchanter wasn't even in charge anymore. A Tevinter magister had somehow made it into the middle of Fereldan and allied with the rebels. If it was any one else, Hawke would have simply turned around and cut her losses – she was only going in as a courtesy anyways – but a Tevinter magister? She had heard all kinds of horror stories from Fenris about the maleficarum slavers and there was no way she would leave these mages with such a man without finding out more.

The Inquisitor marched them through the village and straight to the Gull and Lantern tavern where they were told Fiona could speak with them. Hawke slammed open the door and scanned the room for the former Grand Enchanter.

“Agents of the Inquisition, welcome,” Fiona dipped her head in greetings. “What brings you to Redcliffe?”

“You invited us in Val Royeaux.” Hawke frowned. “I know I didn't come right away, but I expected a bit more leeway.”

“You must be mistaken.” Fiona's face tightened in confusion. “I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

“It was definitely you, right?” Hawke turned to the group for confirmation, only to realize she hadn't brought along anyone who had seen Fiona in Orlais. “Okay, didn't know I would need to prove myself. But if it wasn't you, they sure looked and sounded exactly like you. I even brought the Herald of Andraste,” She swept a hand at Ebrisa, “Just like you asked.”

Fiona shook her head in confusion and opened her mouth to speak.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting, Inquisitor.” A man approached with such an air of confidence that Hawke almost choked on it. “Magister Gereon Alexius.” He bowed slightly at Hawke before turning his attention to Ebrisa. He smiled and stepped in front of her. “And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade?” He looked her over slowly. “Interesting,” he smirked.

A shiver ran up Ebrisa's spine and she shrunk back. There was something about how he looked at her that put her on edge.

“You're a long way from home, Alexius,” Hawke cut in.

“True, but I hear you are no Fereldan either.” The magister motioned to a table for them to sit at.

“Actually, I was born and raised in Lothering.” Hawke smirked as the Tevinter's smile faltered. The two talked for a while, Hawke's dislike and distrust of the man clearly evident. She was able to find out more about the now indentured mages and realized there was little she could do for them.

Ebrisa looked on, feeling utterly useless. Perhaps Fiona had originally intended to speak with her, but Alexius saw her as a joke. A young man came stumbling towards them and the Herald rushed to help him on impulse. He fell just as she reached him and barely caught him at all. “Are you alright?” On closer inspection, he didn't seem pale or sickly. He shoved something small into her hand.

“Felix,” Alexius helped his son to his feet and dismissed himself with Fiona in tow. The magister could be heard frantically fussing over the young man as they left the tavern.

Ebrisa opened her hand and looked curiously at the slip of paper. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger?”

“Ooooh, secrety secret.” Sera wiggled her fingers around in response.

“It's probably a trap, but we should check it out nonetheless.” Hawke sighed.

For the second time that day, Ebrisa felt a nearby rift open. Something was definitely going on and it was effecting the already weak Veil around Redcliffe. “There's a rift in the village,” she breathed out.

“Excuse me?” Hawke leaned in to better hear.

“She said there is a rift close by.” Blackwall began to usher the group outside. “And you said you wouldn't doubt her.” The warden nodded at Ebrisa encouragingly. “Can you tell in which direction it lies?”

Once outside, the mage concentrated on the pull on her hand. She looked to her right. “I think... it may be inside the Chantry.”

“Well then.” Hawke hurried down the steps and into the street. “If there was a trap, demons have surely thwarted it for us. Let's go.”

They made their way past chanters and exasperated villagers to the Chantry building. Knowing there were demons inside, they readied their weapons before Iron Bull kicked open the door. There was a man inside doing his best against the demons, but Hawke's group jumped into the fray so quickly he hadn't a chance to say anything. At Hawke's behest, Sera sought out the hazy patch that let her move faster. She cursed and complained the entire time, but fired arrows off in rapid succession nonetheless.

The room was cramped and filled with blind spots, Ebrisa constantly loosing sight of the others, but trying to support them as best she could from the doorway. Wraiths were ducking around pillars, staying out of reach, and firing off blasts of fire and spiritual energy.

The Herald couldn't stand just watching the others struggle, so she ignored her orders and Fade-stepped directly under the rift. She was exposed on all sides and could hear Iron Bull shouting at her from across the room. She would get berated later, but for now she disrupted the rift. The tear pulsed out a wave of energy, knocking back the demons and destroying some all together.

In the short silence that followed, she could finally hear what Bull was yelling at her about. “Rage demon! On your left!” The qunari continued to try and bulldoze his way through the demons to reach his charge.

Ebrisa twisted to the side just as the fiery beast swiped at her. She tried to lean away from the strike, but the demon sliced right through her chest. She could feel the heat of the attack, but not a bit of pain. Hawke cleaved through the beast with a massive swing, cracking the tile flooring and killing the demon. “Are you alright?” Hawke panted out.

“I...yes...” Ebrisa seemed confused. “I guess the armor deflected it?”

“Good.” The Inquisitor hefted her axe to her shoulder. “We will discuss your tactics later.” It wasn't long before the Chantry was cleared and the rift sealed.

“Fascinating.” The unknown mage turned from the site of the mended tear to Ebrisa. “How does that work, exactly?” The Herald hesitated, unsure. “You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and BOOM – rift closes.” He was smiling, genuinely intrigued by the entire thing. “Did the Fade turn you into a mage when you walked it physically? Can it do that?”

“No, I don't believe so,” Ebrisa replied timidly after finally given time to speak. “I was a mage before the Conclave.”

At that, the man folded his arms and studied her. “I didn't think the South let mages into the clergy. Or are you simply hiding amongst the sisters?”

“I'm not a sister,” Ebrisa's brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

The man laughed lightly. “You do have mirrors down here, don't you? Dressed like that and being so timid in this fight, how could I not?”

Ebrisa looked down at the new armor Josephine and Hawke got for her. White sleeves and cowl, red tunic, black boots... was this on purpose? Surely not, right? She turned towards her companions, but none would look at her. Did they already notice? Was the Chantry garb mimicry intentional?

“You keep saying South and down here.” Hawke kept her axe out, though low. “Who are you?”

“Ah, yes, thought I skipped something.” The man bowed to the group. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. Alexius was once my mentor, so my help should be invaluable.”

Chapter Text

After returning to Haven, Hawke called a meeting with her advisors immediately. There was no way she would work with Tevinter, but couldn't leave them be either. There was also still the Breach to contend with and it seemed Josephine had finally worked out a way to get the Lord Seeker to answer them. Once again, it came down to mages or templars, and Therinfall Redoubt was looking better by the second.

“Can't we get the templars and kick out Tevinter?” Hawke plopped her back against the wall. “Seal the Breach, then get the templars to suppress the magisters and take them out. Does King Alistair even know what's going on?”

“Arl Teagan has retreated with his family to their Denerim estate.” Leliana titled her head. “I can guarantee the king has been informed.”
“We could petition King Alistair for sanction to march on Redcliffe.” Josephine seemed uncertain, but continued. “If we explained a battle plan and withdrew immediately, he may agree.”

“That would get us into the village, but the castle is one of the most fortified locations in Fereldan.” Cullen crossed his arms and shifted his weight. “Even with templars bolstering our ranks, we could not hope to force our way in.”

Hawke pushed off from the wall. “Arl Teagan must know where the defenses are weakest. We can get in.” She turned to Josephine with a smirk. “Write to the king and tell him our intentions. He is welcome to loan his own men, if trust is still an issue.” She took a dagger from her belt and pierced it through the map, right over the old fortress. “Gather the Orlesian nobles, we are getting our templars.”

~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa stood in the snow in her old robes, watching the soldiers' swordplay from the treeline. She leaned against the rough bark and sighed.

“I take it you've heard the Inquisitor's decision?” Cullen said as he approached.

“I can't say I'm surprised by it,” Ebrisa relented. “Lady Hawke did not support the rebellion. She fought along side you at the Gallows, correct?”

It was the commander's turn to sigh. “She did, but not because she hates mages, I assure you. The circumstances were...” He trailed off at the devastating memory. “She had just witnessed a mage she called friend take innocent lives in a horrific way. Her trust has been shaken.”

Ebrisa hummed in acknowledgment.

“She does intend to help the mages,” Cullen continued. “Our forces marching into Redcliffe would be seen as an act of war by Fereldan, so we need to make special arrangements.”

“That man, Dorian Pavus, he said there was a cult obsessed with me.” Her face wrinkled in confusion. “A Tevinter cult took over the rebel mages to get to me... why?”

The commander leaned on the tree beside her, shoulder even with her head. “You alone survived the Conclave's explosion, you stepped out of the Fade, you heal the Veil, you are marked by Andraste. You're an exciting person.”

Ebrisa laughed tiredly. “I assure you, I am not. I've merely had exciting things happen to me. I did nothing to gain this mark. This could have happened to anyone...” That was all people saw, the things that happened to her. Did they all think that way? Silent tears trickled down her cheek and she struggled to keep her voice even. “Who do you see when you look at me?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to answer. “Your worship, I...”

Ebrisa pushed away from the tree and ran back to her cottage, leaving a dumbfounded Cullen in her wake. She didn't care what people would think as she rushed past them with blurry eyes. Let them gossip and make up stories – she was just a figure to them anyways.

She slammed closed her door and sank into her bed, crying silently, save for the occasional shuddering inhale. She felt foolish for her outburst. After all, she should be used to not being called by name by now. Before Herald and Your Worship, it was apostate and maleficar. They didn't even call her Ebrisa in the Circle. The First Enchanter had given her a pseudonym when she first arrived and forbade she speak of her family, claiming the Circle was a new life for everyone. There were some times she wished she were still Bree in her early apprentice days, when she still took a few classes with other mages and spent her nights reading quietly.

She hadn't been called by her name in so long, so why was she so upset now? Cullen had been calling her Your Worship and Herald practically since they met. Why was it now a dagger in her heart each time he said it? She rubbed her eyes with the worn sleeve of her robe and drifted to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

The rhythmic sound of her bare feet on the stone soothed Ebrisa as she held up the skirt of her dress and ascended the spiraling steps of the tower. Ornate torches lit her way up the windowless pillar and she took comfort in the dancing lights. She reached the top of the staircase and knocked lightly on the wooden door that awaited her.

“Enter,” the familiar voice called sweetly.

Ebrisa turned the brass handle and walked into the large, round room. Books and scrolls were stacked neatly in shelves encircling the room illuminated by a large brazier in the center. A woman stood up from the circle of cushions surrounding the light and smoothed out her dark hair. She smiled at seeing Ebrisa, but quickly grew concerned. “My darling child, what ever is the matter?”

“What do you mean, Mother?” The mage closed the door and looked up at the woman.

The woman sighed as she crossed the room. She trailed the back of her slender hand gently down Ebrisa's face. “You have been crying, sweetling. Did you think that would escape my notice?”

“I suppose not.” The mage moved over to the cushions and sat down, the woman sitting beside her. Ebrisa knew she was dreaming and that this was a spirit taking on the form of her mother. She had thought that being aware of this might give her more power over the Fade around her, but all she ever saw was this stone, windowless fortress – a Circle of some kind, though not Ostwick's. No matter how hard she tried, the only person she ever saw was the younger version of her mother from her childhood, back when her mother had only love and compassion for her, before her magic presented itself. Ebrisa did find it a little strange that her mother from that age would reside in a Circle, but there was probably some unconscious, psychological reasoning for it. Ebrisa did create this dream world, after all.

Knowing it was only a spirit masquerading as her beautiful mother did little to persuade Ebrisa from confiding in her or taking comfort in her words. It was there to help, after all. “Come,” the spirit said, guiding Ebrisa's head to her lap. “Tell Mother what has happened.” She began undoing Ebrisa's bun as she waited.

“It was behavior befitting a child,” Ebrisa groaned. “All I wanted was one person to see me, the me that is a person and not a figure.”

“You disapprove of your title? The Herald of Andraste does sound intimidating.”

“But that is all they see!” The mage protested. “I have only been asked about my life preceding the Conclave a handful of times.”

The spirit hummed in understanding. “And you call everyone by name, do you?”

Ebrisa blushed. “In a way? I always use honorifics or titles befitting their station.”
“Yes, manners are the cornerstone of a true lady. All the Inquisition members follow this?”

“For those above them, yes.”

“Aha!” The spirit began running her fingers through Ebrisa's golden hair. “So they do not see you as being on the same level. They are trying to use that etiquette you hold so dear.”

“I suppose...” Ebrisa closed her eyes, feeling even more foolish. “Still, it would be nice to hear one of them say my name.”

A wry smile crept onto the spirit's face. “Just any person or one in particular?”

The mage shot up on the cushion, flustered and blushing. “I don't know what you are getting at, Mother.”

“Oh really?” The spirit tapped a finger on Ebrisa's nose and smiled. “You haven't heard your name in a long time, dear one. Someone being formal to you has hurt your heart because you wish them to act familiar with you. You can't hide from me what is written on your face.”

Ebrisa's heart pounded as she thought it over. Was that it? She wanted the commander to be less formal? And be what, friends? She knitted her brow and looked down, hand to her chest. “Cullen...”

The brazier erupted to a roaring blaze and the spirit jumped to her feet, seething with rage. “The Templar Knight-Commander? You can not be close to him!” She shouted, voice ricocheting around the room. Ebrisa coward away from the figure, scared and surprised by the outburst. “You can never let your guard down around templars – even for an instant! They hate mages, they hunt mages, they murder mages!” The spirit inhaled a sharp breath, seeing Ebrisa shaking in fear. The fire died down and the spirit quickly dropped to her knees in front of the mage.

“Oh, forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you. Never you, sweetling.” She took Ebrisa into a gentle embrace and held her to her chest. “I wish only for your happiness and your safety, but you can find neither if you continue down this path with that man.”

~~~~~~~~

“I take it the nobles have all agreed?” Hawke closed the door behind her, expecting an update.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Josephine seemed nervous. “But that is not why we asked you here.”

Hawke glanced between the Antivan and Orlesian. “Where's Cullen? Shouldn't he be here too?”

“We did not want to involve him,” Leliana relented. “This may turn out to be nothing and we want to keep it as quiet as possible.”

“Uh huh.” Hawke folded her arms. “Great job so far.”

Josephine struggled with how to begin. “We received a message from a distant Trevelyan relation. One I'm sure has never even been to Ostwick, honestly.”

Leliana watched her friend's conflicted expression. “There is a chance the Herald is not who she claims to be. Trevelyan's have a long history of serving the Maker and not a single instance of a mage in generations. Checking Circle records is, of course, impossible.”

Hawke kept her arms folded. “So some great-great-uncle somewhere didn't get the memo. What's the big deal?”

“That would be from what those in Ostwick say.” Josephine said after finding her composure. “The locals claim Lady Ebrisa Trevelyan went to a Chantry. Mother Giselle was kind enough to discover for us records of the young woman entering a cloister under direct tutelage of a Mother Samira, but she seemingly vanishes after that. Mother Samira did attend the Conclave, and if Ebrisa Trevelyan went with her...”

“So, you're saying that our Herald met this young sister at the Conclave and, what, stole her identity?” Hawke shook her head furiously. “That's ridiculous.”

“Another option is that the Herald did go to the Chantry and was sent from there to a Circle.” Leliana frowned. “She claims her magic presented itself while she was still small, so a cloister taking in a mage at all is truly unlikely.”

“Here is what we do know for certain,” Josephine began, clasping her hands tightly. “Our Herald has extensive knowledge of the Free Marches nobility and politics, Trevelyan family history, and some of the best etiquette I have ever seen.”

Hawke remained silent as she realized she had hardly talked with Ebrisa at all. She kept the mage in the back with her bodyguard and chatted and laughed with everyone else. Hawke even knew more about Iron Bull than his charge. She felt something akin to shame at the realization.

“If it means anything,” Josephine said quietly. “I do believe her.”

“Josie!” Leliana turned sharply. “You said not to influence the Inquisitor.”

“But I do believe her!” The Antivan waved her hands emphatically. “If she was to make up a story, she knows enough about the Trevelyans to know a mage would stick out like a sore thumb amongst them. If she was lying, she could have come up with something better!”

“We can't afford to lose her,” Hawke began slowly. “At least not until we seal the Breach.” She twisted the ends of her hair and sighed. “Send a letter to the Trevelyans asking for an official stance. If Uncle Whosawhattle has heard of our Herald, so have they. We will confront the mage after we fix the sky.”

~~~~~~~~~

Cullen paced in the dark awkwardly in front of Ebrisa's door for several moments before finally knocking. He hadn't talked to the mage since she ran off the other day. He would relay Hawke's orders first and go from there.

Ebrisa opened her door slowly, wearing her nightdress and dressing gown. Her eyes widened upon seeing her visitor before darting to her feet. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside to allow entry, eyes still down.

“Thank you, Herald.” The commander walked inside and set a satchel down on the small table. “Please excuse my troubling you so late. The Inquisitor is preparing to head out in the morning for Therinfall Redoubt.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “As soon as she got word from the Orlesians, she wanted to push forward. It's all rather hastily arranged.”

Ebrisa nodded. “I will be ready when she returns to march on the Breach.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Actually, she requires you to accompany her.”

The mage paled. “Go to the Templar fortress?”

“The Lord Seeker said he would not meet with her otherwise,” Cullen quickly explained. “Though the templars left the Chantry, they are still very devout. They need to meet the Herald of Andraste before allying with her.”

Ebrisa sat down heavily on her bed, hands shaking in fear at the thought of being surrounded by templars. Warms hands covered her own, stilling their quivering. She gasped at the sudden contact and looked up at the man kneeling before her.

“I know this must terrify you, but you will not be alone.” Cullen squeezed her hands. “I will be taking Iron Bull's place for this journey. Having a former Knight-Commander at your side should keep the others at bay. And if my presence isn't enough to dissuade them from any unsavory ideas, take comfort in knowing that I will be able to see any cleansings coming and counter them.”

“Cullen...” Ebrisa looked down at her hands and felt ashamed. How could she think this man would harm her? Her dream was seeming less and less like her own thoughts.

“Oh.” Cullen released his grip and went to the bag, Ebrisa's hands feeling suddenly cold in his absence. “I know you don't like your armor after what happened in Redcliffe, but the Inquisitor needs you to wear it. I can't blame her, honestly. Wasn't a rage demon's strike completely deflected?” He brought the bag over and pulled out various pieces of clothing. “I thought you might use some of this to alter the appearance to something less... sisterly. They're just simple fabrics, but, well, esthetically?” He stood awkwardly in front of Ebrisa as she sifted through the pile. “It was a foolish idea, wasn't it? This was foolish.”

“No, it wasn't.” She looked up at the commander and gave the first real smile she had in days. “Thank you, Cullen.”

The man blushed and rubbed his neck, smiling a little himself. “Yes, well, glad to help.” He coughed and looked away. “You should rest up. I'll see you in the morning.” Cullen went to the door.

“Wait, before you go,” Ebrisa called out and jumped to her feet. “I feel I must apologize for my actions earlier.” Her happy expression shifted to one of shame. “My behavior has been childish and you were undeserving of my outburst. It was unbecoming of me.”

“I don't think you're capable of being unbecoming,” Cullen chuckled before pausing and mentally smacking himself. “I need to choose my words more carefully.”

Ebrisa hide a giggle behind her hand, but the amusement twinkled in her eyes. “Take all the time you need in choosing, so long as your words remain honest.”

“With you, my lady? Always.” Cullen smirked at the mage, setting her cheeks ablaze. “Good night, your worship.”

“Go-good night, Cullen.” Ebrisa closed the door behind her guest and rested her forehead against the wood. She could faintly hear Varric talking, followed by Cullen saying “I was not flirting” rather defensively.

Chapter Text

As ordered, Ebrisa wore her dragonling armor and silk blouse and leggings. She kept her cowl down and loose, the ends of the wrappings dangling over her shoulders. Her boots and belt were the same dark hide with her gloves a matching black. What she had added was a thin, deep blue skirt under her open tunic and a medium blue woolen shawl that she wrapped around the waist under her belt and let the hang in the back. It truly wasn't much of a difference, but Ebrisa felt less like an imposter as they rode up to the templar stronghold.

The nobles were already there with many harassing the templars standing guard. Hawke dismounted with a grunt and stretched forward to pop her back. “Sweet Andraste, am I glad to be off that horse.”

“I think the feeling is mutual,” Varric quipped. “You're no feather in that armor, you know.”

“Hey.” Hawke feigned hurt and whacked her gauntlet against her chest with a clang. “Words cut deeply, you know.”

“Ah yes, how does it go?” Varric climbed off his mount and removed Bianca from her saddle holster. “Sticks and stones, what good are those? It's words that really hurt me?”

“Exactly.” Hawke collected her gear while grinning at the dwarf. “We should just put you on a pulpit when we go into battle.”

“Now there's an idea.” Vivienne sauntered past the pair. “I think I will go see what noble houses we are working with.” Hawke nodded a go ahead. It was why she brought the mage along anyways.

“Inquisitor, so good of you to finally arrive,” a masked man turned up his nose as he spoke.”It is not unlike the second dispersal of the reclaimed Dales, do you not agree?”

Hawke held back a groan and willed her eyes from rolling. “Lord Abernache, I believe.” She plastered a smile on her face and tried her best to make Josephine proud as the man lead her to the main gate and blathered on. She turned around briefly and mouthed out 'help me' to Varric. The dwarf only clasped his hands together in mock prayer, consigning Hawke's patience to the Maker.

“Therinfall Redoubt is much larger than I expected,” Ebrisa said nervously.

“Well, the Chantry doesn't like to think small.” Varric looked up at the blonde mage, still resting in her saddle on the hart. “Do you plan on staying mounted the entire time? Might make doors a little awkward, but whatever suits you, Sunshine.”

Ebrisa snapped to attention and dropped the reigns. “Right, of course.”

“Here.” Cullen extended a hand to steady the mage as she swung her leg over the front of the saddle. He placed his hands on her waist to ease her dismount smoother, but her skirt caught between her legs and Ebrisa fell down and against the commander's chest. She blushed in embarrassment at the ungraceful landing, but Cullen only chuckled softly. “Perhaps you should ride side saddle on the return trip.”

“For that distance?” She looked up, baffled by the idea. “My legs would surely fall asleep, if not off.” Cullen chuckled again and Ebrisa could feel the vibrations in his chest under her hands. She blushed, realizing he was still holding her.

Varric cleared his throat very loudly and the two jumped apart. Well, Cullen moved back and Ebrisa collided with Rufous. “Oh, don't let me got in your way. I'm just gonna go see some templars, not a big deal, really. Come by whenever you kids are ready.” He headed over to Hawke and Blackwall, grinning widely.

The mention of templars brought Ebrisa back to where she was and why Cullen had come along in the first place. She clenched her hands together in front of her and let out a shuddering breath. “We should go as well.”

They walked up to the main gate just as Lord Abernache was belittling a templar. Upon seeing them, the templar strode past the Orlesian and met the pair. “Commander Cullen, I did not expect to see you here.”

“I thought I might provide a bridge between our two sides.” Cullen turned to Ebrisa. “Your worship, this is-”

“Knight Templar Derlin Barris,” the man quickly introduced himself. “It is an honor to meet you properly, Herald of Andraste.”

Ebrisa dipped into a small curtsy, trying to use etiquette to control her uneasiness. “I understand we have you to thank for this chance. You reached out to Cullen, correct?” The mage paused as recognition dawned on her. “I remember you. You showed doubt in the Lord Seeker after his display in Val Royeaux.” Her eyes darted to the side. “I showed you anger unfairly. It was not you who struck the Revered Mother.”

“No, your worship, and I'm afraid the Lord Seeker has given us many reasons to doubt since then.” Barris motioned for the group to enter the courtyard. “The Lord Seeker said he would restore the Order's honor, than marched us out here to wait. His actions make no sense.”

“Hopefully we can make him see some,” Hawke cut in.

“Win him over and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach.” Barris assured her. “Templars know their duty, even when held from it.”

“Well said, ser.” Blackwall nodded. “It's good to see you're an honorable sort.”

Ebrisa felt the eyes of the templars upon her like the drizzling rain as she entered the courtyard. She trembled slightly and walked closer to Cullen unconsciously. He glanced down at her and nodded reassuringly, the action diminishing some of her worry.

“Before we go further, the Lord Seeker has a request.” Barris looked at Ebrisa, than to three standards hanging on the stone wall. “An honored rite, each standard representing the People, the Maker, and the Order. Raise them in order of importance so that the Lord Seeker can see who you are and what you value.”

“A waste of time,” Abernache scoffed. “Hang your own drapery.”

“If he wants to investigate the Inquisition, he can do it in person.” Hawke folded her arms, equally annoyed at the pompous ceremony.

“Not the Inquisition, your Herald.”

Ebrisa stiffened. “What? But Lady Hawke is in charge.”

“The Lord Seeker has changed everything around to meet you. By name.” Barris stepped closer to Ebrisa, who reflectively took matching steps back. “He has fixated on you since your party arrived.”

“Seriously now,” Hawke sighed. “The Lord Seeker can't delay any longer, Barris. Take us to him.”

“But the Lord Seeker was very clear-”

“It's alright,” Ebrisa cut in once she found her voice. “I'll do it.” She moved to the wooden cranks and hesitated only for a moment before making her choices.

“The Maker, the People, and then the Order.” Barris nodded. “And could you explain your choices?”

“This was a question of what I believed in, so I let my faith guide me,” Ebrisa answered calmly and it seemed to satisfy Barris. The templars looked at her more intensely, eyes burning into her and she struggled to stay calm. Those in the courtyard regarded her curiously and some moved closer to get a better look. She tensed up and inhaled sharply, frozen in place.

Cullen moved beside her and leaned in. “We are going inside now, Herald,” he said in a hushed tone. “Are you alright?”

“They're all around me, watching,” Ebrisa whispered out. “I know if I go further inside, I will be surrounded by more and that I can't stay here... I just...” She trailed off and balled her hands in her skirt.

The commander placed a hand lightly on the small of her back and gently guided her to the door. “They will not harm you, Herald. I give my word to protect you.”

Ebrisa relaxed against his touch and ignored the alarms in her head as the door closed behind them and templars took up watch around the room. Hawke and Barris were already talking about strategies to approach the Breach while a runner went to fetch Lucius. Somewhere along the line, Lord Abernache had decided to reassert his better standing and mock the knight again.

“Is this the kind of treatment the Lord Seeker can expect?” Hawke cut in. “We are trying to get their aide, you know.”

“Please, Inquisitor,” the noble flittered a hand through the air. “I know when to hold my silver tongue.”

The interior door swung open and a small troop entered. The muted alarms in Ebrisa's head rang loudly and she took a step back. “You were expecting the Lord Seeker? He sent me to die for you.” The center man sneered.

“Ah, Knight-Captain,” Abernache smiled under his mask. “It is not unlike the second dispersal of the reclaimed Dales.” The officer turned to him slowly, unamused.

“You may want to take a giant step away,” Hawke warned the noble.

“Knight-Captain Denam, I brought the Inquisitor. Will the Lord Seeker not see her?” Barris seemed uneased by the officers strange behavior.

“Knight-Captain, I've put up with a lot of Orlesian hogwash to get here,” Hawke leaned forward, threateningly. “I won't take a 'he changed his mind' response.”

“You brought your nobles and promises, but he cares nothing for them.” Denam laughed coldly as he scanned the room, his eyes narrowing on Ebrisa. “So this is the Herald of Change? You are why everything must be moved ahead.”

Cullen held out his arm protectively and ushered Ebrisa behind him. “Knight-Captain Denam, where is the Lord Seeker?”

The officer smiled wickedly behind his helm. “Watching. Changing everything .” He turned to Hawke. “Your Inquisition arrived with purpose and your Herald has sown seeds of dissent. The Lord Seeker had to change his plans because of your interference.”

Shouting and sounds of fighting seeped into the room from beyond the walls. Barris looked anxiously at his superior. “Knight-Captain, I must know what is going on.”

“You were all supposed to be changed,” Denam shouted angrily. “Now we must purge the questioning knights!”

“Purge?! You're fighting your own men out there?” Hawke drew her axe, the others preparing themselves.

“The Elder One is coming,” Denam signaled his men. The first victim was Abernache, an arrow piercing his court mask and dropping him to the floor. “None shall escape who are not stained red!” His templars made quick work of the baffled guards and descended on the Inquisitor's party.

Vivienne cast barriers before setting a glyph below her feet, chunks of ice coating her form and doubling her protection against the warriors.

Hawke vaulted over the table with a roar and tackled the Knight-Captain to the ground. Varric and Vivienne kept the others in front occupied while Cullen and Blackwall dealt with the other side of the room.

“Stay behind me,” Cullen shouted to Ebrisa as he bashed his shield into an archer. The mage's head was reeling. The templars were divided and she had no way to tell them apart. Attack could come from anywhere at anytime to... anyone. She looked at the templars laying on the floor, slain by their comrades. The officer had said the Elder One – did the Venatori have something to do with this?

Barris, the last of his men alive, struggled to fight a former ally and failed to notice the archer aiming for him. Ebrisa slid out her staff and blasted the bowman with an intense fire. Barris nodded in thanks, gaining the motivation to finish off his opponent. However scared Ebrisa may be, the templars were fighting their brothers and sisters. Their hearts would not be in it and that made them easier to be taken out. She couldn't allow that.

“It's never simple, is it?” Varric sighed. He looked up at Hawke, her form rigid with rage.

“Let us find his master and be done with it. Where would Lucius be?” She turned to Barris, the man wracked with confusion and sorrow. “Barris!”

The templar snapped to attention. “Oh, uh, he often spoke with the officers in his room across the keep. Its...”

“Great, lets go,” Hawke swung her weapon to her shoulder and started for the door.

“A moment, please.” Ebrisa spoke up, halting the Inquisitor. “Just... a moment.” She knelt down beside two of the betrayed templars and clasped her hands.

“Draw your last breath, my friends.

Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.

Rest at the Maker's right hand,

And be forgiven.”

The room was still as she rose. She looked at Barris, his eyes misty. “I know it is not nearly what they deserve, but I hope it will do for now.”

“It'll do, Sunshine,” Varric replied with a sad smile.

“Yes, thank you, Lady Herald.” Barris closed his eyes for a moment to gather his resolve. “We'll need his keys,” he said while snatching a set from the traitor's belt. “Out this door and to the left. Follow me.”

“That was kind of you,” Cullen said from Ebrisa's side.

“You heard what the Knight-Captain said. This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't come.”

“Indeed.” Cullen motioned the mage forward. “It seems they might have met an even worse fate.”

With fighting breaking out all over the halls and courtyards, the group stayed close and focused on getting to the Lord Seeker. They encountered many officers, covered in veins and slabs of red crystals. It was part of them – growing out of them. It was horrific, but did make them easier to discern from allies. Was that what Denam meant by stained red?

For the most part, the warriors were too intent on killing each other to consider stopping mages, but it was hard for Ebrisa to feel relieved by that. She did her best supporting not only the group, but as many allies as she could as they fought their way through the fortress. A knight had become separated from his squad and was immensely outnumbered by the red ones. Ebrisa flung out her hand quickly and set most of the enemy group ablaze, but her hastiness diminished her aim and gave her position away. One of the unaffected red templars raised up his blade in an all too familiar stance and the mage panicked.

“Get back!” Ebrisa shouted and braced for the energy wave to cut through her.

Cullen was in front of her in an instant and struck the ground, sending out his own disruption to the enemy. The commander's wave was faster and more potent, not only canceling the weaker blast, but knocking the attacker back as well. Hawke and Blackwall descended on the group, finishing them off as Ebrisa stared dumbfounded at the man before her. The commander was still on his knees, leaning heavily on his sword and more winded than he thought he would be.

“Cullen?” Ebrisa placed a worried hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He laughed wearily. “That's my line.” He stood up and retrieved his blade, nodding at Hawke as she rejoined them. “Let us press on.” Cullen turned towards Ebrisa and saw the genuine concern on her face. He smiled reassuringly. “This is why I came along, remember?” He tried to seem confident, but it had been so long since he really used any templar abilities that he honestly didn't know how many more cleansings he could counter. Still, he had given his word and Ebrisa was worth the effort.

They pushed forward through the fortress with Barris as their guide until they reached the steps to the Great Hall. A large group of tainted warriors stood in their way, cutting down knights. “Dammit,” Hawke glanced up at the empty steps. “Herald, Vivienne, get up there and give us some cover!” She swung her axe in a wide arc, creating a small gap in the enemy force. “Go!”

“Quickly, my dear!” Vivienne grabbed Ebrisa's hand and Fade-stepped them up the stairs. The Orlesian turned around immediately after the shift and began raining down her icy fury. Ebrisa was a bit unstable, having been unprepared, and moved to the landing to get better footing.

A lone templar stood there, back to her. He seemed untainted, so Ebrisa approached him cautiously. Was he hurt? Had he been cornered up here? The man spun around and grabbed her firmly, smiling wickedly. Only now did she recognize the Lord Seeker and she felt terror rip through her body. Ebrisa called out for Cullen as the Lord Seeker laughed, pulling her to the massive door. “At last,” he sneered. He slammed her into the door and his smile faded. “What is this?” He slammed her against the wood over and over, each time harder and angrier. “How are you doing this? I will not be denied!” He reared back just as the sound of clanking armor approached and body slammed Ebrisa, crashing them through the splintering door.

She laid on her back, winded, hair undone, and body aching. The mage swatted at the figure on top of her until it rolled off and... screeched? She twisted on the floor to see what she had struggled with and her mouth went dry. A grotesque, gangly creature contorted its long limbs and hissed in anger before speeding off to the far side of the hall, erecting a barrier behind it.

“Herald, what happened? Are you alright?” Cullen helped her up slowly, a hand on her back for support.

“The Lord Seeker was...”she mumbled, still stunned.

“That was an envy demon.” Cullen looked at Barris. “You know what that means.”

“Maker,” the knight hung his head. “How long have we been deceived?”

“I would hope before he marched you all out here,” Hawke folded her arms. “Did he do anything else? Something made your captains go all crystally.”

“And crazy,” Varric added. “Can't forget the crazy.”

“After we left the Chantry, we had to look elsewhere for lyrium.” The knight began. “The officers found some red form and tried it first to prove it was safe.”

“Whoa now, they drank red lyrium?” Hawke exchanged looks with Varric. “That would sure explain the crazy. And the crystals, alla Meredith.”

“Did all the officers take it? What of the lieutenants?” Cullen had been studying the barrier and knew it would be beyond the knights on their own.

“I don't believe so.” Barris looked around the hall at his assembling peers and rescued nobles. “They must still be out there, fighting.”

“Let us hope so. You'll need as many veterans as you can find. And lyrium.” Cullen sighed. “If there is still any left untainted.”

“There's a store room still well stocked,” Barris assured him.

“Right then.” Hawke cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders back. “Lieutenants, lyrium, anything else beginning with an 'L'?”

“Luck?” Blackwall offered.

“Could definitely use some of that,” Varric muttered.

The Inquisitor smirked at Cullen. “Don't get used to bossing me around, Commander. While we're gone, you get this place fortified. We have no idea what is on the other side of that barrier we are so keen on taking down. And watch the Herald.”

“Of course.” Cullen nodded.

“Oh, I think he has that last one in hand already.” Varric winked as the group rushed out the door to the barracks.

It was only then that Cullen realized his hand was still resting gently on the small of Ebrisa's back. He withdrew it quickly and cleared his throat. “To work then.” Cullen got the templars organized and divided into tasks. They blocked off most doors while placing barricades around others to create bottlenecks.

As the soldiers worked, Ebrisa turned to the shattered door and wondered how they could seal it. Perhaps she could erect a barrier, but any templar could easily take it down. She reached for her staff to give it a try, but found nothing. Confused, she searched the floor and pulled the wooden staff from the rubble. At least half of it anyways. She bit her lower lip in worry. Without a staff to direct and focus her magic, what use would she be in the coming battle? There was no weapon in the fort that she could take up to assist – or even really defend herself with.

As much as she hated the idea of hiding while good people fought, she would only be a liability. She rushed over to the commander as he helped move an overturned table into place. He looked up at her, the others moving on to the next task. “Cullen, my staff is broken. Without that focus...” She trailed off, feeling guilty. “You must hide me.”

“It's alright, I'll protect you.”

“I can't let you divide your attention like that. What if you get injured while protecting me, or worse?” Ebrisa closed her eyes and shook her head, golden curls sweeping against her back. “Cullen, I couldn't live with myself. Not you. Not for me.”

The commander watched her for more than a moment, processing what she had said. “I understand. We'll need to keep the nobles out of the way as well.” He looked around the hall, trying to find a safe place. “Climb up to the overhang there, then drop the ladders. We could use them to barricade anyways.”

“Thank you, and I'm sorry.” The mage gathered up the remaining nobles and helped them up the wooden ramp and ladder. They whined and complained, but were ultimately grateful for cover. Ebrisa jumped to catch the hanging ladder after the others were secured and pulled herself up. It wasn't easy, but she ushered the nobles as far away from the edge as possible and carefully lowered the many ladders to the waiting templars below. She could hear the warriors murmuring about her and she felt all the more guilty.

The Maker would never send a mage.

Look at the coward hide.

Our brothers and sisters died because of this apostate.

Ebrisa tormented herself with all the things they could be saying and she knew them to be right. More templars began to enter the hall and the murmurs continued. The mage sighed, but couldn't fault them.

“Lady Herald?”

Ebrisa snapped from her trance and moved to the ledge. “Ser Barris?” She knelt down to talk with the knight standing on the ramp. “Have I upset them?”

Barris knitted his brow. “No, your worship, not at all.” He looked at a group of templars, urging him on. “Some of the others are wavering. I thought perhaps you could help them like you did me.” Ebrisa tilted her head in confusion. “When you recited the Chant for my fallen brothers, it emboldened me to press on. I – well, we were hoping you might sing the Chant for us.”

Ebrisa looked at him, bewildered, then out over the room. Some templars were watching her now, others moved through tasks with slumped shoulders and hung heads. She rose and moved to the edge over looking the center of the room, her hands shaking as the templars turned to her slowly. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

“Maker, my enemies are abundant,

Many are those who rise up against me.

But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the Legion,

should they set themselves against me.”

Her voice rang out over the stone, resounding for the entire room to hear. They stilled and watched her as she recited the Canticle of Trials. Some smiled, some teared up, but all of them were touched. She heard fighting and shouting, but she kept still and continued.

“I have faced armies

With You as my shield,

And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing

Can break me except Your absence.”

She heard arrows whiz by her and clank against the stone wall, but she did not move or quiet.

Chapter Text

“Oh man, these are heavy,” Hawke groaned, readjusting the lyrium chests in her arms.

“Do be careful with that, Inquisitor,” Vivienne called from the front. “We'll need every precious drop.”

“You could help. Take a crate?”

“But dear, I am helping. I'm getting the door.” Vivienne pressed against the worn wood, holding open the door for the Great Hall. “Voila.”

Hawke blew hair from her eyes and grumble as she moved past the mage and into the room. “Ya know, they don't look all that heavy in the little flasks.” She set down the chests and flexed her arms, pausing her stretching as she took in the sight of Ebrisa reciting scripture to the disheveled room.

“Though I am flesh, Your Light is ever present,

And those I have called, they remember,

And they shall endure.

I shall sing with them the Chant, and all will know,

We are Yours, and none shall stand before us.”

“Are you seeing this?” Varric nudged the Inquisitor.

“Which part? The impromptu sermon or the piles of crystal corpses?” Hawke mumbled.

Vivienne stepped beside them and lightly touched her chin. “Now if only the Herald was as confident in her magic as she is in the Chant.”

“Are we sure she's not a Sister?” Blackwall chuckled.

“All right, break it up,” Hawke clapped loudly, drawing the room's attention. “Envy demon, remember? We brought lyrium!”

“This amount should be sufficient for them.” Cullen nodded at the crates.

Hawke eyed the commander curiously. “Don't you mean us ?”

“Yes, well...” Cullen rubbed his neck and looked down briefly. “Could we speak privately?”

Ebrisa gasped and looked around at the wake up call. There were far more arrows around her than she remembered hearing, some scorched black. This puzzled her more than anything.

“Sunshine, you are something else,” Varric laughed from the ramps platform. “What are you doing up there?”

The mage leaned over the edge with an ashamed expression. “My staff broke when I fell into the room, so I came up here to stay out of the way.”

“That is so not what I'm talking about.” Varric laughed again. “You had a room of templars on their knees.”

“Ser Barris said morale was low and asked me to recite the Chant,” she answered defensively, face blushing in embarrassment.

The dwarf sighed and shook his head. “You need to stop being so unbelievable.”

“Master Varric, I was only doing what I was asked...”

“I know, I know.” He sighed before walking off.

“He doesn't want to take it. The Blessed Burning. Yearning. Maker's Fire. But he will. Follow orders, help the Order. He was so close.”

Ebrisa turned around at the voice, expecting to find a noble behind her, but saw no one. Perhaps an echo?

“Alright everyone, gather around,” Cullen called out to the room. “We are going to distribute the lyrium now. Make every sip count. Once we start weakening the barrier, we don't know what will come through. The Inquisitor's group will keep the enemy back.” He reluctantly picked up a philter and looked at Hawke, who folded her arms and nodded. “This will take all of our focus, so trust in the Inquisition to do their part.”

The templars took their lyrium in an orderly fashion. It was familiar and comforting to them. Repetitive and ritualistic. Cullen stood behind the crates, his grip tightening on the glass container in his hand. Even from her perch, Ebrisa could clearly see he was conflicted. The mage knew she couldn't stand by as the templars exhausted themselves and her comrades tried to cover the entire hall. She had no staff to focus her magic, but there was one spell she knew she could hold.

She looked over the edge at the platform and took a deep breath before jumping down. Ebrisa was sure to bend her knees and landed uninjured, but rather loudly. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and skirts fluttered into place as she calmed herself. When she stood, she noticed most of the room looking at her. Perhaps she should have tried to hang and drop down instead.

“Herald, what are you doing?” Hawke tilted her head. “We're about to start.”

“I know.” Ebrisa hurried down the ramp's ladder and over to Cullen, who was still holding a full philter. “I can form a wall of fire around the templars. So long as I am within the shield, I can keep it up with little effort. Staff or no staff.”

“You are certain?” Cullen seemed unconvinced.

“I am certain that I must try.” She walked up to the statue base where the templars were preparing. They looked up at her and she smiled reassuringly.

“Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”

She turned away and moved down the steps, centering her position.

Cullen stared at her and felt a tinge of shame. If a mage with nothing to focus with could try her hardest, then so should he. The commander twisted the container open and drank the blue liquid quickly. He felt the familiar burn in his body and surge in his mind, but there was no time to think of selfish consequences. Culled moved to his position with the knights and exhaled. “Templars, ready!”

Ebrisa brought forth the spark in her mind and closed her eyes. She flung her arms up at her sides, the fire sweeping out from in front of her in a semicircle, surrounding the templars with its protective blaze.

“Now!” Cullen shouted and the templars began their task. Vivienne and Hawke took the left side while Blackwall and Varric the right. Red templars began to trickle through the weakening barrier but not much farther than that. The Inquisition was fiercely determined to stop them, but as their numbers increased, Hawke's group was pushed back. Ebrisa could feel the enemy press against her wall and with a thought the flames flared up, hotter, and drove the enemy off. After numerous waves of tainted warriors, the demon's barrier erupted with a boom.

The templars collapsed, exhausted, but alive. “Inquisitor, it is done.” Cullen called out wearily.

Ebrisa dropped her flaming wall and took a step away from the scorch line. There were crystal corpses, still burning, dotted across her barrier. She turned to Vivienne in fear, but the older mage simply nodded approvingly. She hadn't meant to burn that intensely.

“You did well, Herald,” Cullen tried to stand, but fell back to his knees with a grunt.

Ebrisa rushed over to him, kneeling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Cullen, don't push yourself.”

Hawke approached them and looked the tired soldiers over. “You all have done your part. Now I will make this demon wish it had never crossed the Veil.” The Inquisitor motioned for the others and took off to the back sanctuary.

“It wanted your face.”

Ebrisa whipped around to find a pale young man hiding inside a large, floppy hat.

Cullen raised his sword at the newcomer, struggling to keep it steady. “Where did you come from?”

“Envy wants your face. Fresh, Faithful. Now it's furious,” the stranger continued.

“Herald, get away from it.” Cullen's hand shook.

Ebrisa took Cullen's sword and lowered it gently. “I remember his voice. It's alright.”

“I'm Cole. You are still you. Envy could not be you.” Cole raised his eyes. “You wouldn't let Envy in, so Envy seeks another. All Envy needs is a moment. She is strong, but she can't stop it.”

“Inquisitor!” Ebrisa gasped and jumped to her feet, running after Hawke.

“Herald!” Cullen tried again to stand and cursed his exhausted body, punching the ground.

“Precious Sunlight, cutting through the darkness.”

Cullen looked up at the strange young man, surprised. “Did you just...?”

“I will help.” Cole then vanished, leaving the weakened templars alone.

“We must get to the Herald,” Cullen panted.

~~~~~~~~~~

“It moves like a terror demon, but it doesn't announce itself,” Hawke groaned. “Stay still, coward!”

“Impatient, are you? And quick to anger.” Envy laughed from all around them. “I would know you better.” The demon flittered around the shrine, always slipping away at the last moment. Hawke was getting worn out and her anger only increased.

“You're about to know the taste of my steel!”

The demon slipped up behind Hawke suddenly and screeched, immobilizing the entire group. Envy reached out to Hawke, a smile on its grotesque face.

“Do not take the Inquisitor!” Ebrisa shouted from the edge of the walkway. “It's me you wanted, isn't it?”

Cole faded in beside her. “No, you used too much power to help the templars. You can't stop Envy like before!”

Ebrisa looked down, worried. “That may be true, but the Inquisitor is too important.”

Envy rose up before her. “The Elder One promised you to me. If I can not be you, no one can!” It held Ebrisa's head with one hand and she struggled to pull away.

“No!” Cole rushed to help, but the demon swatted him away with a free arm.

“I shall know you. I will be a better you!” Envy lowered its head to Ebrisa and faltered. “How can you still resist?!”

The mage thrust Cullen's sword deeply into Envy's chest. “I will not yield to you, demon.”

“Dark and Desperate. Death to make yourself alive.” Cole shook his head at Envy. “I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be either.”

Ebrisa cried out loudly as she deepened the blade. Fire poured from her hands and up the templar sword, extending several yards out the demon's back. She leaned into the blade and continued to shout, closing her eyes and pouring every bit of power she had into the magical flame as it encompassed Envy. It shrieked in pain and convulsed as it slowly disintegrated into flecks of green ash, and then, nothing.

The mage fell to her knees, still holding the commander's sword tightly. She panted, feeling almost as worn out as her attempt on the Breach.

“I don't like lying,” Cole began as he crouched beside her, “but this time it was okay.”

“Yes,” Ebrisa panted. “Thank you for your help, Ser Cole.”

“I like helping.” He drew a circle in the dirt with his finger, keeping his head down.

Hawke's group approached slowly, awestruck. “Andraste's flaming knickers...” The Inquisitor breathed out.

“Unbelievable.” Varric stared at the blonde. “Didn't I tell you to stop being that?”

Ebrisa lowered her head and laughed timidly, her hair slipping over her shoulders. “Well, I couldn't exactly let what happened to the Lord Seeker happen to the Inquisitor.”

“Not saying I didn't have that under control,” Hawke coughed and looked away. “Appreciate the daring assist, though.”

“My dear, however did you do that with a templar blade?” Vivienne was the most dumbstruck of all, her normally calm and guarded face clearly confused.

“I've watched the troops train, so I-”

“No, no, no.” Vivienne cut in and knelt down, pointing to several runes etched into the weapon. “Templar swords are fortified against magic. To use that weapon as a conduit is unheard of.”

Ebrisa had only been aware of the demon-slaying rune and hadn't thought much further than that. What Vivienne said did make complete sense, now that she thought of it. Just how much power did she harness to pull this off?

Cullen, still worn out, struggled to move down the walkway. He went from pillar to pillar, resting on each momentarily. Blackwall noticed his approach and quickly came over to support the commander. They walked to the group, Cullen filled with a mixture of relief, awe, and fury. He nodded a thanks to Blackwall and knelt down by Ebrisa. Hawke's group moved forward to speak with the templars, leaving them alone. Even Cole had vanished.

Ebrisa looked up at him guiltily. “I took it on accident.” She released her tight grip on his sword and handed it back. It wasn't her plan from the beginning? She just ran off to face a demon on impulse? Fury it was then.

Cullen smacked the sword from her hands to the ground. “Are you insane?! What were you thinking?” Ebrisa opened her mouth, but couldn't find any words. She darted her eyes around as if the answer was written down somewhere. “That demon could have killed you, or taken your form and killed you! Have you even studied Envy demons?”

“I wasn't permitted to in the Circle, but-”

“So you ran off to face a demon you know nothing about with no real weapon or hope to succeed?” Cullen paused, letting out an angry breath. “I'm waiting to hear the good part of this plan.”

“The Inquisitor-”

“Is a trained warrior with experienced allies at her side.” He cut in.

“She could have died!”

“ You could have died!”

“But I didn't!” Ebrisa's tightened her lips and turned away. “I know that we are close to sealing the Breach, but the Inquisitor will be needed beyond that. Her life is more important than mine...”

Cullen's fury faded and he sighed, switching to a sitting position. “This is not about one life's worth versus another, this is about your habit of rushing into danger. I do get field reports, you know.” Cullen said wearily. “When I saw Envy grab you, my heart stopped. I knew I could never make it to you in time.”

“But you were with me,” Ebrisa picked up his sword and held it gently in both hands. “I should not have been able to send my magic through this, but I think that because it was yours, the blade aided me.” She offered it to him again and smiled meekly.

The commander took his sword from her hands slowly, trying to figure out how the woman could make such rash decisions. “I would say don't do that again , but Maker knows you won't listen.”

“Alright advisor, advise me.” Hawke walked up to the pair and set her hands on her hips. “Just told the templars that the Breach was the enemy and they needed to help.”

“I hope you put it a bit more eloquently than that.” Cullen raised a brow.

“It's called paraphrasing, you ass. If you were beside me instead of over here acting like a mad big brother, you would have heard me.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “What did you need council with?”

“Since all the templar officers went off the deep end, they have no leaders. I was thinking of just disbanding the Order and absorb these knights into our ranks.”

Cullen jumped to his feet. “You can't do that! The Templar Order has served for centuries. You can't just get rid of them because you don't want to help them.”

“The Order is clearly flawed if they let a demon take over and drank red lyrium.” Hawke folded her arms defensively.

“These men were only following orders. It was their officers who did wrong. The dead officers, as you noted.”

Ebrisa stood slowly and looked at the weary templars down the walkway. “These are good men, Inquisitor. They reached out to us because they knew what needed to be done, despite the officers acting so... peculiar.” She looked Hawke in the eyes and recalled all she had seen from the templars and herself that day. “Do you believe I have been marked by the Maker?”

Hawke looked down, avoiding the Herald's gaze. “I mean, after today? How could I not?”

“Then maybe I have been sent. Maybe I am Andraste's Herald.” The mage took a calming breath, believing the words for the first time. “Maybe I am here simply to keep you from destroying an ancient order that has served faithfully. A symbol of righteousness respected by the people.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “I'm sorry. You want me to keep them? I got the impression you were scared of them. You know, because you were practically glued to Cullen all day.”

Ebrisa let out a shuddering breath. “There are those in the Order who abuse their power, those who do shame to the name templar. I thought most templars were that way... but after seeing so many of them fight for what they knew was right, I've realized I was scared of the exception, not the rule.”

“Help the Order rebuild, Inquisitor.” Cullen added. “You can snuff out the unworthy knights as you gather the righteous ones.”

Hawke sighed and tossed up her hands. “I know Leliana won't be pleased, but I see your point. Fine.” She turned around and headed back. “Come on, you two.”

Cullen sheathed his sword, still a bit unstable, and teetered slightly. “You can hold on to me, if you need to.” Ebrisa offered meekly. The commander hesitated, knowing she was still weak herself, but put a hand on her shoulder as they met up with the others.

“This mage, this woman, is the will of Our Lady incarnate.” Hawke motioned to Ebrisa as they approached. “She has reminded me of your sacred duty to combat dark magic. She has convinced me to help you fulfill that duty against not only the Breach, but countless unknown evils that lay ahead. The Inquisition shall be your shield as you rebuild a better Templar Order so that you may shield the people of Thedas from the wicked.”

“Brothers and Sisters, do we accept this offer of alliance?” Barris called out. One by one, the templars knelt before the Inquisitor.

Hawke turned to Cullen with a smirk. “Eloquent enough for you?”

Chapter Text

Truthfully, not much happened while they were gone, but Cullen still sent word ahead for his officers to prepare reports. So far, he had read accounts of a drunken scuffle in the tavern, a missing cask of ale, and a terrified ram that got caught in the rigging for the newest trebuchet. He sighed and flipped to the next report, trying to catch up before the official debriefing with the Inquisitor. He glanced out the window of the quiet tavern and drummed his fingers on the table.

“You look like you need a break,” Varric said as he set down three mugs.

Cullen looked up briefly at the dwarf now sitting across from him. “I'm working, Varric.”

“Yes, and stopping that for a little while is known as a break.” Varric pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket and began shuffling. “Just a little Wicked Grace between friends.”

Cullen relented and set the papers aside. “I'll play, for a bit, but I won't drink.” He looked at the third mug curiously. “Just how thirsty are you?”

“Oh, no, that's not for me.” Varric began dealing out three sets of cards. “Invited another person. She should be here soon.”

“Varric.”

“Then I though I might make up some excuse and leave early.”

“You didn't.”

“I mean, I can get so busy. But you two could play.”

“Dwarf, I do not appreciate your meddling.”

“Oh come on now.” Varric set down the cards. “You don't want some alone time with the Herald?”

Cullen pointed an angry finger at the author. “You can say all the accusations you like and make fun of me, but do not drag the Herald into your jokes.”

Varric leaned his arm on the table and leveled a skeptical look at the commander. “So you don't like her then? What are all those lovey dovey moments I keep catching you two in?”

“They are not lovey dovey . Its not like that.” Cullen blushed behind his anger.

“Uh huh.” Varric rested his chin in his hand. “How is it then?”

“She's...” Cullen paused. “She's like a sister. I can't think of her like that.”

“Like family?” Varric laughed. “Don't know how siblings work in Fereldan, but in most parts they don't gaze longingly into eachother's eyes.”

Cullen growled quietly in annoyance. “We don't do that, and I meant like a Chantry sister. She's the Herald of Andraste, after all.” The commander shook his head. “I shouldn't – I can't - think of her as any more than that. It's... inappropriate.” He was quiet for a bit, staring at the sloppy pile of playing cards. “Besides, whatever affections you may be misinterpreting with me, the Herald clearly sees me no different from anyone else. She's kind to everyone.”

“Think so?” Varric folded his hands on the table and leaned in. “What does our Lady call Hawke?”

“Inquisitor, like the rest of us.”

“Okay, and Ruffles, Nightingale, and Cassandra?”

“Lady Montilyet, Sister Leliana, and Seeker Pentaghast.” Cullen seemed confused as to where this was going. “She's showing respect for their positions.”

“Yes. Correct.” Varric turned his head. “But what about me? Or Solas? Or the friggen blacksmith? We're all 'Master Blank'. You notice that?”

“Of course,” the commander answered slowly.

“And what does our ever polite Herald call the military leader of the Inquisition? That's a pretty important position, right?” The dwarf raised a brow, waiting for the other man to figure it out.

Cullen was silent, but his eyes widened slightly.

“You are the only person she calls by name alone. If you think you aren't special to her, well,” Varric sighed and waved his hands in surrender, “then you are too clueless for me to help, Curly.”

“Commander.” A runner approached the table and saluted. “The Inquisitor awaits you for debriefing.”

Cullen cleared his throat and gathered his reports. “I'll be right there.” He shook his head once before looking at Varric. “I'm sure it means nothing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Varric called after him as he left. Noticing the runner was still there, the dwarf smiled up at him. “Up for a game? I'm waiting for the Herald.”

“Oh, no thank you, ser.” The runner saluted. “Did you say the Herald? I passed Her Worship on my way here. She seemed upset.”

Varric glanced at the window beside him that Ebrisa would have needed to pass to get to the door. “Shit.” He let out a deep sigh and dragged all three mugs in front of himself. “This is not what I intended. I'm sorry, Sunshine.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa lay on her bed, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. Tears continued to roll slowly down her face as they had when she first overheard Cullen. Being like a sister was certainly more familiar – more so than friends, for certain. She should be elated that he saw her as more than a title, that she was close with him. And yet, here she lay with a tear streaked face and an aching heart. What was it she had wanted from Cullen if not this?

Cole appeared suddenly on the foot of her bed. He seemed confused as he looked at her. “The Inquisitor wanted me to leave, but I heard a hurt and wanted to help before I went.” He leaned in and looked her over closely. “The dwarf was hurting that he hurt you. I made him forget, but I don't understand.”

Ebrisa was too drained to be surprised by the boy and merely sat up. “What don't you understand, Ser Cole?” She said tiredly, wiping at her cheeks.

“You are hurting. I see the hurt, but I can't hear it.” Cole began pacing the room.”Its not working right. I hear hurt, I heal, I help!” He rushed back to Ebrisa. “Maybe I can still make you forget the hurt? Why do you hurt?”

Ebrisa shook her head. “I'm not hurt, Ser Cole.”

He reached out and wiped a fresh tear from her cheek. “People cry when they are hurt.”

“Oh.” She lifted a hand to her puffy eyes. “I heard something and it made me sad.”

“Yes, the dwarf said something like that.” Cole got excited. “What did you hear?”

The mage let out a short laugh, the foolishness of the situation hitting her. “Cullen thinks of me as family.”

The young man tilted his head. “Family is good. Safe, secure. Why does that make you sad?”

The tears doubled and Ebrisa bit her lower lip. “I don't know.”

“No, no, I'm making more hurt!” Cole darted around the room. “I can make you forget what you heard. It would be like before Cullen said it. Would you like that?” Ebrisa stared down at her hands and nodded. “Okay then.” Cole raised his hand over her eyes. “Forget.” He paused. “Forget.” The boy backed away and pulled on his hat. “No, no, I am broken! I made the Inquisitor forget and the dwarf, but not you?” He shook his head and squatted on the floor. “No good, broken, can't help.”

Ebrisa climbed off her bed and moved over to Cole. “Its alright, I don't need to forget. Remember how Envy couldn't get in? Maybe whatever kept Envy out won't let you in either.”

Cole looked up slowly. “But if you can't forget, you will hurt.”

The mage smiled sadly. “I'm sure I will get over it. I don't even understand it, remember?”

“I didn't want to leave before I helped...” Cole trailed off.

The mage frowned slightly. “Why do you have to leave?”

“The Inquisitor doesn't trust me,” he sighed.

“Oh,” Ebrisa looked down, disappointed. “So you have to go?”

“You... don't want me to?” Cole seemed hopeful.

The Herald tilted his hat back to see his face. “You only want to help, right?” He nodded. “Then I wish you could stay, Ser Cole.”

The boy drew a circle on the floor with his finger. “But I can't help you...”

“But you can still help others.” Ebrisa smiled timidly. “Sometimes you get happy just by seeing other people happy.”

He thought for a moment. “The Inquisitor won't know. It would be a secret.”

She nodded. “Yes, and I promise to keep it.”

Cole grinned sheepishly and stood up. “Secret friends.”

Then he was gone.

~~~~~~

The commander distanced himself from Ebrisa in an attempt to quell any rumors circulating the camp. After all, if Varric had felt confident enough to not only try and set them up in a private game of cards, but ask Cullen outright, then who else thought there was something going on? The very idea was ridiculous, so far as Cullen was concerned. The Herald was.... the Herald , pious and pure. She couldn't possibly be interested in him, despite her familiarity. It was best to maintain a distance to keep her reputation intact.

He did find himself glancing over to the stables more frequently as he organized their new templar allies. Ebrisa hadn't been going there as often now that Dennet was running things, but if Cullen was lucky he could catch a glimpse of her tending to the often neglected red hart. Whereas before the mage would smile gently as she brushed or fed the animal, she now seemed troubled and would stare off at nothing until the hart nudged her. The commander wondered if it was because he was avoiding her and that thought did not sit well with him. He was trying to help her, not hurt her and he had to admit, he did miss her smile... but then again maybe it was all in his head. Cullen hadn't been thinking so clearly since Therinfall.

“I thought it was supposed to be an axe.” Hawke frowned at the magic staff on the table.

“Sister Dorcas was just as surprised as you and sends her deepest apologies.” Josephine sighed. “It was still worth the effort to discover the burial site of such a crucial figure of Fereldan history. In fact, if not for Tyrdda Bright-Axe, there might not have been a Fereldan as we know it.”

Hawke hummed as she took the metal staff into her hands. “Well I certainly can't use it. Think the Avvar would trade for it?”

“Most likely they would be upset that we took it in the first place.” Leliana shook her head. “I could look into buyers, if you wish to sell it.”

Cullen, who'd remained quiet for much of the meeting, finally spoke up. “The Herald could use a new staff. She's yet to replace the one broken at Therinfall.”

“I suppose you would know,” Josephine commented offhandedly as she jotted down some notes.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Cullen asked, a bit too defensively.

“That you spend your day near the blacksmith?” The Antivan looked up from her writing board with a raised brow. “Regardless, if the Herald needs a staff, this one should be more than sufficient.”

The Inquisitor spun the staff in her hand. “That's true... and she likes fire! It's perfect.”

“I don't know if she necessarily likes fire...” Josephine added hesitantly.

“Well, whatever. The staff is hers.” Hawke squinted an eye and studied the top design. “I guess it kind of looks like an axe, what with its flared out bits.” She walked out of the room with a sigh to deliver the weapon and commission something from Harrit for herself. She was done with axes for a while.

Chapter Text

Haven was alive with music and laughter as soldier and worker alike celebrated the Breach's closure. Hawke stood proudly overlooking the merriment and resisted the urge to throw back an ale herself. They had accomplished a great feat together, but there was still work to be done. For tonight, however, she hadn't a care in the world.

The Chantry was all but empty while Ebrisa knelt before the altar and watched the dancing flames of the lit candles. Haven's occupants had prayed heavily for their success at the temple's ruins and their level of faith moved the mage deeply. They threw flowers at the feet of the returning templar procession when they marched through the gates, and picked up Hawke from her horse, shouting with joy. When Iron Bull helped Ebrisa from her mount, the crowd fell silent and dropped to their knees. They had nothing for her but smiles and tears and she could do nothing but return the gift, weary as she was.

She opted out of the celebrating, claiming she was worn out from her ordeal and asked the sisters if she could be left to meditate alone. She thought she heard Cullen come by once, but the sisters turned back so many, she couldn't be certain. So much had happened so quickly and it felt like her life was not her own any more. She was the Herald of Andraste.

The sound of clanging bells broke her musings and she stood up quickly. The Chantry doors burst open and the clergy began ushering people inside. Ebrisa rushed to the main hall and looked around at the terrified faces.

“What's going on? What's happened?”

“Haven is under attack, your worship.” One of the sisters explained hastily.

The mage's heart sank. “Have they breached the walls?”

“No, your worship, we-”

Ebrisa threw on her tunic and rushed out the door, fastening the snaps as she burst out into the confusion. She needed to get as many people out of harms way as possible while there was still time. She ran from door to door, urging everyone she saw to go to the Chantry and leave things to their soldiers. Many workers wanted to help fight and would not be persuaded to hide, running for the gate with the warriors. Ebrisa felt a mixture of pride and regret as they left her, one by one.

She heard a deep rumbling sound, like a far off explosion, followed by cheering. Before having a moment to smile, an angry roar cut through the air as a dark beast soared overheard, urging Ebrisa to continue her task. The beast roared again and blew fire onto Haven, setting buildings aflame and killing many people in one swift motion. Ebrisa heard voices crying out for help and didn't hesitate. She climbed over burning wreckage, looking for survivors. Her mostly closed tunic kept much of the flame away, but as she shifted beams and pulled people out, her leggings and sleeves began to burn away. She paid no mind as her gloves singed to nothing while lifting burning remnants of homes and shops to free the trapped. They looked at her in disbelief, but quickly headed for the Chantry to flee the flying monster.

“Those notes are Master Taigen's life's work! I will not leave them behind!” Adan cried out over the roaring blaze, fighting past Minaeve to try and enter his burning workshop.

“Where are they?” Ebrisa rushed up to the pair, hair disheveled and arms completely bare.

“Your worship?” Minaeve couldn't help but stare.

The apothecary freed himself and pointed inside. “Top shelf in the back, small chest, but you shouldn't-”

The Herald slammed her shoulder into the door and stumbled into the blaze. The smoke was worse than she thought and stung at her eyes, but the fire itself didn't bother her. She stepped carefully to the back, grabbing the chest quickly and exiting the building just as the roof collapsed. She coughed to expel the smoke and took several deep breaths of cold air. “He-here,” she wheezed, holding out the chest. “Now please, get to the Chantry.”

The academics looked at each other and took the notes. “You will be coming with us, won't you Herald?”Minaeve asked, fearing the answer.

Ebrisa opened her mouth to speak, but started coughing again.

“Are you kidding me?” A loud, booming voice rang out. “This is where you are?” Iron Bull rushed over to the mage and looked her over. “Been at this a while then? You sure don't make my job easy.”

“There could still be people trapped,” the mage panted. “I need-”

“-to get to safety! There happens to be an invading army toting a dragon, in case you didn't notice.”

“But people are...” Ebrisa began coughing again and Iron Bull groaned.

“Forgive me, little lady, but you don't leave me much choice.” The qunari picked up Ebrisa and slunk her over his shoulder. “You two coming?” Adan and Minaeve quickly followed the mercenary to the Chantry, Ebrisa struggling all the while.

“Hey, sister, take her, would you?” Bull plopped the mage down unceremoniously in the main hall, now filled with the injured and panicked, in front of a cleric. He went back out the door to protect the entrance now that his charge was inside.

The sister looked Ebrisa over as she had everyone else that had come in. She washed the soot from her face and limbs, looking for burns, but finding none. It wasn't until she washed off Ebrisa's marked hand that she realize who the coughing woman was.

“Your worship! Forgive me,” the sister bowed her head. “I must find you new clothing at once.”

“No, I'm fine.” Ebrisa coughed one final time. “Tend to the wounded, Sister Ashlyn.”

The cleric started. “You... you know my name?”

“Should I not?”

Ashlyn lowered her eyes and shook her head. “Apologies. Of course you would know.” She looked up and smiled. “I shall do as you asked.”

The mage took a moment to look the once quiet main hall over and take in the devastation caused by the attack. She rose to her feet and rushed to help the others with the few skills she'd picked up from the clergy. They couldn't stay here, there was no way the Chantry building would hold against a full assault by the flying beast. Where had it even come from?

“Good heavens, is that you, Herald?”

Ebrisa looked up from the rolls of makeshift bandages and started. “Master Pavus? What are you doing here?”

Dorian eased a wounded soldier to the floor. “Why, I came to warn your Inquisitor about this Venatori attack. I had expected to see you back at Redcliffe.” There was a slight annoyance in his voice and Ebrisa instantly lowered her head.

“I'm sorry. It was not my decision to make.” She bent to look at the soldier and began to wrap his bleeding side.

“No, I suppose not...” Dorian looked Ebrisa's disheveled form over and furrowed his brow. “You really are giving your all for these people, aren't you?”

“Of course.” She looked up at the Tevinter and smiled wearily, yet still radiantly. “Why should I ever give any less?”

“Be still my heart, I think I've found a unicorn,” Dorian mumbled.

Officers began rushing through the door one by one as Cullen called a full retreat. Chancellor Roderick, who had been outside ushering people in, began to stagger inside himself. Even from down the hall, Ebrisa could see his gushing wound and sprang to his side. She found a bench and set him down gently. “Pardon,” she meekly said while ripping his torn robe to better see the abdominal wound. She wiped it and grimaced at the sight of the thing. It was large and deep and the blood wasn't stopping. She packed cloth against it and tried to wrap it tightly, only to come up short on length. She undid the ribbon from her hair and tied off the bandage which was already beginning to darken.
She shook her head in frustration, curly hair cascading around her. Why hadn't she learned any healing magic? Solas had only just begun to show her the basics of the spirit school and she was nowhere near ready.

“He's going to die,” Cole said softly at her side, holding her woolen shawl and trying to offer it to her.

“Can you help? You heal hurt, can you heal him?” Ebrisa asked desperately.

“I'm sorry. I can only end his pain,” Cole withdrew a dagger.

The mage gasped in realization and lowered his hand. “No, Ser Cole. There has been too much death today already.”

“For a templar, you think like a blood mage,” Dorian sneered at Cullen a few yards away.

Ebrisa stood slowly as she regarded the small group by the door. “Stay with him, Ser Cole.” She said quietly as she moved to the group.

Hawke looked up at her approach, then away, conflicted. The Inquisitor closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There has to be a way to escape. Maybe not everyone, but some could stay back and keep the Venatori from following.”

“That won't work without a clear path to use,” Cullen cut in.

“Roderick has something he wants to say,” Cole announced. Hawke was too intent on hearing the Chancellor explain the hidden pathway to question who the young man was. They could save almost everyone here, but they would need a distraction.

“We know why this Elder One is here,” Hawke began. “We know who he wants.” She looked at Ebrisa, naming her with her eyes.

“No, you can't ask her to do that,” Cullen rejected the idea instantly.

“If the Herald keeps the enemy busy long enough, we can get these people out of here!” Hawke turned sharply to the commander. “The Inquisition could end here with all of us dead, or live on to fight the enemy again.”

“What do you need me to do?” Ebrisa squared her shoulders, trying to mask her fear.

Hawke smiled sadly. “Fire the last trebuchet on top of Haven. We'll need time to get clear, so you need to keep the enemy's attention. Get him talking, make him think he's won. We'll signal you when we're safe.”

“You realize there's no real escape for you,” Dorian looked at the Herald curiously.

Ebrisa lowered her eyes, filling with a sense of dread and and purpose. “The Breach is sealed. I'm sure Master Solas can find a way to close the remaining tears without me... this... this must be why I was sent. So I could save the Inquisition...”

Hawke nodded and squeezed Ebrisa's shoulder. The Inquisitor began arranging people to load the trebuchet and others to follow Roderick out of the Chantry.

“There has to be another way.” Cullen paced beside her. His head had been foggy and he couldn't concentrate past the headaches. “I'm missing something, I know it.”

“Its alright,” Ebrisa said in a shaky voice, telling him as much as herself. She reached out for his arm, but he swatted it away.

“It is not alright!” He shouted angrily, Ebrisa's eyes widening at his outburst. Cullen gasped in realization and covered his face with his hand. “Maker... not now.”

“Cullen,” the mage began again. “If I don't go out there, then the Inquisition will be crushed. Everyone will die. You will-” Her heart beat wildly in her chest as the words formed on her lips. “ You will die...” She couldn't let that happen. Cullen couldn't die. The very idea of him being gone filled her with a crushing sadness, an overwhelming grief. Cullen couldn't die.

“Whether this is by the Maker's design or simple circumstance, I gladly give my life to save...” She trailed off and looked down, her words finally explaining all the heartache she endured. Soldiers rushed past them, having loaded the trebuchet, and hurried after the evacuating masses. Ebrisa looked up at the commander, conflicted. “I... I have a selfish request.”

“Of course.” Cullen watched the flood of emotions play in the mage's hypnotic eyes.

“I need to hear you say it, just once.” Ebrisa struggled to not look away, to keep hold of his gaze for as long as possible. “I need to know you will remember me as a real woman and not a figure. Please?”

Cullen's mouth went dry. “What do you need me to say?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. “My name. I need to hear it from you. Just once...”

The commander reached out and brushed back her disheveled curls with his gloved fingers. “Ebrisa.”

She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, savoring the sound of her name on his lips. A tear slid down her cheek as she opened her eyes and smiled brightly. Just for him. Her heart felt warm for the first time in a long time, but she couldn't leave without one more thing. Ebrisa placed her hands on Cullen's chest and stretched up on her toes to place an innocent kiss on his cheek. He stared at her, speechless. “For luck,” she explained with a blush and darted out the door.

Varric, Solas, and Iron Bull were all awaiting her just outside.”What are you doing?”

“My job, or course.” Bull grinned. “Just replace rift with trebuchet and it will be like any other day.”

“You did not expect to race through an army and re-aim a siege weapon by yourself, did you?” Solas handed Ebrisa her metal staff. “That would be most unwise.”

Varric, who had been closest to the door, looked her over. “Did you say all you needed to?”

The woman glanced back over her shoulder. “No, but I said all he could hear. I was selfish enough.” She cleared her throat. “Let us hurry then. If we're quick, you all will be able to catch up to the Inquisitor.”

They darted through the burning village, slaying Venatori soldiers and mages in their way. It was immediately clear to Ebrisa that she wouldn't have made it far on her own. “Aim the blasted thing, we'll cover you!” Bull shouted once the trebuchet was in sight. Solas cast barriers on the group and Ebrisa laid down ice glyphs around the controls before setting to work turning the heavy crank. She could hear the others fighting behind her, but the sooner she finished aiming, the sooner they could retreat. More than a few times, she heard shouts of warning followed by the heat of a fire. Flames appeared unbidden to block unseen attacks, just like at Therinfall and the mage wondered if it was Andraste reaching through the Fade to swat away the harm.

The siege weapon hit the end of its track with a clang, now aimed over the burning, abandoned village. Ebrisa looked down at Varric as he reloaded. “Will you keep an eye on him for me? Make sure he still laughs?” The woman lowered her eyes and smiled softly. “I like his laugh.”

The dwarf looked at her sadly. “Yeah, Sunshine, I can do that.”

“Thank you.” She looked around the oddly quiet clearing. “You should go. Now, hurry!” The men seemed reluctant to leave her, but the dragon swept down close and made up their minds for them. Ebrisa moved away from the trebuchet, trying to ensure its safety as the others rushed back to the Chantry. The dragon flew by again and fired at her feet as she ran, the force knocking her back. A tall figure moved slowly out of the smoke and flames, glaring intensely at the mage.

~~~~~~~~

Cullen shook his head and punched the tent post. They had made it out alive, thanks to the Herald. Dorian sent a fire blast high into the air as a signal, then they saw the mountain crumble upon their former home. The dragon flew off with an angry roar, then silence. He wasn't sure what he expected to happen after that. A matching fiery signal that Ebrisa had made it out? A voice from the end of the path? All that followed were the cries of horror and anguish of the people as they witnessed the Herald of Andraste sacrifice herself for them. For him.

They marched through the snow for a long time until they found a small valley shielded from the wind. Camp was set up wordlessly and everyone finally had time to process what happened. Iron Bull gave them a report, but it was nothing they couldn't guess at. The Inquisitor and her advisors argued back and forth, but none as angrily as Cullen. They were split off now to different ends of the camp and the commander found himself staring at the lyrium supply.

“She was worried about you, you know.” Varric said as he approached. “About to drop a mountain on her own head, and she asked me to look out for you.” The dwarf leaned against a post. “So, I'm asking, how are you holding up?”

Cullen balled his hands into fists. “I failed her, how do you think I'm holding up?” He spat.

Varric squinted in confusion. “There was nothing you could have done differently, Cullen. This was too big to stop.”

“You don't understand.” He turned to the dwarf. “I hadn't taken lyrium since Cassandra recruited me. After Meredith, I just couldn't be a part of something that could warp your mind like that.”

“I can understand.” Varric nodded.

“I had worked through most of the withdrawal. I was myself again. I thought I could live my life clean. But then, at Therinfall Redoubt...” He trailed off.

The dwarf straightened “You used lyrium.”

“A lot of it, more than a normal ration. We needed to break through and the Inquisitor... she ordered me to assist, though I most likely would have anyways.” Cullen punched the post again. “I didn't take any after that, and I'm suffering all over again. My head is... jumbled. If I was taking lyrium, I might have been able to think of another way. An exit strategy for her.”

“Look, Curly,” Varric began softly.

“I could have saved Ebrisa!” The commander shouted angrily. “I could have...”

The dwarf sighed, unsure of what to say. “I'll... come check on you later.” He left the commander alone to think and hopefully come to the conclusion he was not to blame.

Chapter Text

Dripping water landed repeatedly on Ebrisa's forehead, stirring her awake. She gazed with blurry eyes up the broken mine shaft she'd fallen down accidentally that ultimately saved her from the avalanche. Her hair and hide armor were soaked completely from the large pool of water she was laying in. She sat up slowly, taking in her scorched surroundings and feeling the lingering warmth in the stone beneath her.

She tried to call forth a flame to dry herself, but could muster little more than a spark. Had she been keeping herself warm while unconscious and used up all her mana? How could she even manage that? The metal staff resisted damage from the fall, though it had been coated in a layer of soot, and she gripped it tightly. Ebrisa rose to her wobbly feet, trying to cast again, but still produced nothing of note, even with the added focus.

Her hand ached immensely from Corypheus trying to forcibly remove the mark and she squeezed it closed in an attempt to mask the hurt. She knew she had to try and find the others if she was to survive at all and hoped beyond hope that this was somehow part of the path Roderick mentioned.

Using the staff as support, she slowly made her way through the tunnel, boots squishing with each pained step. She caught sight of the outside and moved forward, only for wraiths to flash in before her. She stumbled back in surprise and raised her hands defensively, a tear opening above the demons and dragging them inside. Ebrisa stared at it in disbelief, reaching up to glowing hole hesitantly and causing the mark to flare up, forcing the tear to pull in on itself until it closed.

It wasn't like sealing the rifts. With those, there was a pulling sensation in her arm, like the Fade was fighting with her for dominance and tried to yank her inside as much as she tried to force it closed. There was always such a surge of power and noisy boom when they shut, but this... She looked at her aching hand in mild horror. Had she... did she split open the Veil? That couldn't be possible. She had imagined it. Yes, she was weary and confused from her ordeal with the Elder One and when he used his orb to try and remove the mark from her, it- it changed. Something in her hand, something inside her had changed. Ebrisa tore her eyes away from the green light seeping from her palm and wished she had something to block the sight of the thing. If this was a boon from Andraste, as she had thought, then why would it let her use such a wicked power? She should not be able to rip open the Fade.

She shook her head, dripping hair sticking to her bare arms. She could contemplate that after she found the others. Ebrisa stepped out into the howling wind and snow and shuddered instantly. She had never felt cold this intensely before and ducked her head to shield her face. There had to be a way to find the Inquisition. She took a calming breath and pushed forward into the snow, using the staff to pull herself along as she tried to ignore her unsightly hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were singing. The entire camp had joined Mother Giselle and raised their voices to the sky. It was moving and unifying and Cullen couldn't help but close his eyes and join in for at least a few bars. The song shook the Inquisition from their doubt and empowered the faithful to continue on with whatever task the Inquisitor gave them. The Herald had sacrificed herself for them and they would not squander that.

Dorian stepped away from Roderick, the man finally having passed peacefully. “A tough old man. Held on to the very end.”

“She said to stay with him,” Cole said sadly as he played with the hem of the shawl.

Dorian spun around. “You're a quiet one.”

“My secret friend said to stay, but Roderick left. I should go now too.”

“Go where?” Dorian motioned around them.”We're lost in the mountains, if you didn't notice.”

“Yes, I-” Cole stopped suddenly and turned sharply. “I can hear.” Then he was gone, leaving the shawl behind.

The Tevinter opened his mouth to speak, then forgot entirely what he was going to say. Or to who.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa had made it to an abandoned fire pit and dropped to her knees, exhausted. The ashes were completely cold, but had to have been from the Inquisition. She took a small comfort in knowing she was on the right path and laid down beside the pit. She was so tired and so cold. Just a little rest and she would start moving again. To Cullen.

The mage closed her eyes and shut out the pain. Even if he didn't care for her as deeply as she did him, she knew he did care for her. At least a little. Perhaps that little would grow over time or her affection would subside until they were even. Maybe he already had someone special he cared for and she was only forcing her feelings on Cullen. She relaxed and frowned. She never even asked him, but she had only just realized what her own feelings were. Her heart ached at the possibility. Of course Cullen had someone, he must. Someone deserving of him...

Tears slipped down her frozen cheeks and she felt herself sinking into a warm embrace.

“You can not sleep here!” Cole grabbed her arm and pulled her upright.

“No, I was only... resting... a bit.” Ebrisa slurred as she climbed to her feet.

“You need to keep moving or you will die!” Cole tugged her forward and Ebrisa let him guide her.

She didn't know where he'd come from or how he found her, but Ebrisa stumbled after the young man in silence for what felt like a long while. Each step was painful, every shift of her muscles draining her strength, but if she kept pressing forward, she could see Cullen. See his playful smirk. Hear his quiet chuckling. Feel his warm hand on... The mage stopped and slid out of Cole's grasp. She starred at her glowing hand once again, her jumbled fears and concerns about what the mark filled her with a sudden panic. Cullen wouldn't want to touch her.

“Its this way, come this way!” Cole grabbed her wrist and yanked on her arm, forcing the mage to move once again. “No stopping!”

“Why?” Ebrisa whispered out past chapped lips.

Cole turned to her in confusion. “You will die if you do not. No coming back.”

“Doesn't matter.” Ebrisa stumbled forward. “He doesn't want me. Mother was right.”

He found her thoughts chaotic and could no longer hear. “You aren't making sense.” Cole tugged her arm, but Ebrisa tore it away, the motion nearly toppling her over.

“Doesn't matter,” she repeated meekly, tears running down her cold face like the last bit of warmth escaping her body. “He doesn't want me. Will never want...” Ebrisa fell to her knees and looked at her hideous, glowing hand. “Vile... worthless...” She wobbled and fell face down in the deep snow.

“No! No sleeping!” Cole grabbed her arm and tugged hard, dragging Ebrisa forward a few feet, but her limp form was too heavy for him. Cole dropped her hand and paced. “No, no, I must help.” He paused and listened for a moment, finally able to pick out something, and vanished in the howling wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen held a philter in his hands, tilting it back and forth. He could start taking it again and be rid of this withdrawal, but would he think any clearer on lyrium?

“She needs you.” Cole appeared before him suddenly, causing Cullen to stand and drop the philter.

“Where did you come from?”

“Remember.” Cole lifted his hand slightly. “I was at Therinfall. Envy. Ebrisa. I helped.” Cullen tensed at the mention of the name. Things he had forgotten came back, including the Inquisitor ordering the boy to be killed. “The Herald asked me to stay. Soothe the suffering, but I can't help her.”

The commander looked away. “She's gone.”

Cole shook his head furiously. “No, she needs you! I told her to move, but she won't. Snow sleeping. Slowly slipping.”

Cullen's eyes widened in realization. “She's alive?!”

“I couldn't hear her before, but now I can. She is tired. Tormenting herself.” Cole shook his head. “So cold. See Cullen. That's all I can hear.”

The commander grabbed a stack of blankets and turned to Cole. “Take me to her. Now!” He took the only mount they had ready and followed Cole out of camp without a word to anyone. The boy moved from point to point, acting as beacons for Cullen to follow. The red hart resented the rider and struggled in deeper patches of snow, but Cullen urged it onward. “This is for Ebrisa. You remember her? The Herald?” The hart bounced its head and pushed forward. The commander caught up to Cole and looked around. “Well? Where is she?”

“I can't hear her anymore,” Cole whispered in concern. “She's silent. Sleeping, snow, suffocating.”

Cullen dismounted and waded through the snow. “Use your eyes then! I will not let you give me hope just to tear it away!” They spread out and looked over the white blanket. Any tracks she may have left were swept up by the wind and carried off. The commander was kicking himself for not sending out search parties earlier. Ebrisa could already have been safe in camp if he was thinking clearly. His selfishness was costing her dearly.

The red hart bellowed loudly and began to dig at a pile of snow. It nudged a clump away to reveal a frail, glowing hand. Cullen rushed over, sweeping the snow away a bit before plunging his arms in it and pulling up the mage's limp body. Ebrisa was deathly pale and her golden hair lay in frozen clumps against her exposed skin. The silk remnants of her clothing did nothing to keep out the weather and she was left with little more than a fire resistant tunic and frozen boots. She was like ice in his arms and he shook her desperately. “Herald? Herald, wake up! Ebrisa!”

The mage opened her eyes and looked up at the commander through snow covered lashes. She smiled weakly and raised a hand slowly to his face. Cullen grabbed it and held it against his cheek, the same one she had kissed. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only manage a mumble before passing out again.

Cole handed Cullen the blankets and he wrapped Ebrisa up tightly before lifting her in his arms. As he tried to figure out how he would get Ebrisa back, the hart knelt down low enough for him to climb on without dropping his precious cargo.

“He wants to help too,” Cole said as he patted the animal's nose. Cullen held Ebrisa tightly against him and wrapped his cloak around them both as they headed back to camp. She shivered and her frozen hair crunched against his armor, but he had her. She was far from safe, but she was alive. Despite all of his mistakes, the Maker saw fit to return the Herald to Cullen and he would not make those mistakes again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mother, you're back.” Ebrisa dropped her book in surprise as the woman entered the study hall.

“Have you missed me terribly?” The woman smiled weakly and moved over to sit beside the mage.

“Where did you go? Its so lonely here,” Ebrisa furrowed her brow. “I tried to look for you.”

“I just had to go for a bit of a rest. I was very tired.”

The mage nodded, despite something seeming very wrong. It had felt like years alone in the fortress and she must have read everything twice over as she waited.

“I had something I wanted to tell you,” she began. “But you must promise to not get angry.”

The woman smiled and tapped her finger against Ebrisa's nose. “Of course, sweetling.”

Ebrisa took a deep breath. “Remember, you promised.” The woman nodded. “I have come to understand my feelings. Despite what you have said, I do care for Cullen very deeply. I... I think I love him.”

The woman kept her lips tight and inhaled sharply through her nose.

“But I know he doesn't feel the same.”

“I see,” the woman said, taking care to say her words evenly. “Then why do you still care for him?”

Ebrisa stood up from the couch and walked around the edge of the room. “I can't change how I feel, Mother, but I can't pursue it either... I thought you should know.”

“Being this way will only bring you pain, child.” The woman said sadly. “Why not forget him?”

The mage laughed tiredly. “After knowing this warmth, I can't go back to the loneliness. I will take whatever affection he can send my way and keep it close. Over time, I think I can be satisfied by it.”

The woman shook her head. “Templars always find a way to hurt. They are angry, paranoid, power driven people. If you are hoping for his random affection to sustain you, you shall surely starve.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen sat silently beside Ebrisa's sleeping form. The Inquisition had made camp for the night and moved her from the wagon to a cot in her own, private tent. They had been following Hawke and Solas through the mountains for days now, and the entire time Ebrisa slept.

When he rode back into camp with the frozen Herald in his arms, he went straight to the healers' tent. After the initial shock of their new charge, the sisters and mages set to work immediately on warming her up. They removed her ice filled boots with some difficulty and tossed her armor to the side. Cullen would not leave, but he did turn his back as the clerics changed Ebrisa into some dry clothing. Word spread quickly through the camp and Hawke soon came running into the tent, breathless and filled with disbelief.

“She's alive?!”

“No thanks to you,” Cullen narrowed his eyes. “You sent her to her death out there.”

“Excuse me? She volunteered!” Hawke poked the commander in the chest. “The Herald faced down the Elder One for all of us. She knows her duty.”

“And what of your duty? You should have gone.”

“You don't think I wanted to?” Hawke balled up her hands. “If my going out there would have worked, I gladly would have taken her place. But he didn't want me, he wanted her!”

“Your shouting isn't helping,” Sister Ashlyn cut in. “Leave.”

Hawke turned around and walked out of the tent, but Cullen wouldn't budge. The sister looked up at him and saw the guilt in his eyes. “If you're going to stay, you can help.” She handed him a motor filled with herbs and a pestle. “Here, grind this into a balm for her skin.”

Since then Cullen rarely left Ebrisa's side in the hopes that she would awake at any moment. Occasionally she would stir and mumble something and Cullen swore he heard his name. Solas had assured him that physically she was doing much better and should wake up any day. The elf did mention that her aura was strange, but explained it could just be from the mark.

Cullen kept thinking back on what Varric had said before the attack – that he was special to Ebrisa. He called up various bits of conversation between them and looked for clues. One thing stuck out in his mind clearly and that was her looking sad or becoming upset when he addressed her by title. He remembered her blissful reaction when he did finally say her name and vowed that if nothing else, he would continue to call her Ebrisa.

Chapter Text

The Herald stirred under the thick blankets and opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the brightness. She felt like she was wrapped in a warm cloud and moaned in rejection of leaving the bed. The thought had her shooting up immediately and check her surroundings in a panic. She was in a small, stone room with few furnishings. If not for the chill in the air and sunlight drifting in through the thin windows, she would have thought she was still dreaming.

Ebrisa set her feet on the stone floor and got up, body aching from being dormant for so long. Beside the small bed was a crate with a wash basin, which she used on her face to help wake up. Someone had plaited her hair over her shoulder rather expertly, the braid staying smooth in her slumber. A chest against the wall was filled with clothes Ebrisa had never seen before and she slowly changed into a simple white chemise and cream colored kirtle. At the very bottom of the chest lay some gloves and she quickly slipped them on to block out the sight of the mark rather than the cold. She turned back to the bed, looking for shoes, and saw her blue shawl folded neatly over the pillows. Of all the things to follow her here...

The mage opened the door and looked out over a small courtyard. She could hear people in the distance, but saw no one. Unsure of where she was or what happened, Ebrisa moved quietly along the walkway and through another door. There was a large hall in disrepair with rubble strewn about. She picked her way carefully to another door across the balcony and to a set of stairs. The main level of the hall showed evidence of a clean up effort underway and stacks of lumber lay against the walls. At least here she wouldn't need to worry about her bare feet as much on this level.

Ebrisa could make out voices from the other side of the impressively large door and pulled it open with a creak. She had not been prepared for the sight outside. Inquisition troops moved around clearing rubble and pitching tents. People busied themselves unloading wagons and flittered in and out of buildings. Ebrisa walked slowly down the stone steps and stopped at the landing, looking around in awe. It had worked. The Inquisition had survived the attack on Haven and was already establishing a new base. Whatever this place was, they would make it theirs.

“Commander, the soldiers have all been assigned temporary quarters.”

“Very good,” Cullen checked the task off in his mind as he looked over the various sketches of the area. “I'll need an update on the armory as well.” He felt the soldier still standing beside him and groaned. Had he no sense of urgency? Cullen moved his head to face the man, but froze as he lifted his eyes. He saw Ebrisa standing on the steps, sunlight behind her giving her an ethereal appearance, like the Chantry paintings of Andraste.

The soldier followed his gaze and gasped. “Its the Herald!” The cry rang out across both courtyards and people dropped what they were doing to gather around in awe.

“Lady Herald!”

“She's returned!”

“Maker be praised.”

Ebrisa looked around, overwhelmed, and resisted the urge to run back inside. She still had no idea what was going on. The last thing she remembered was marching through the snow, trying to find...

Her darting eyes locked with Cullen's below and the memory of their parting flooded her mind. She smiled at him warmly, nearly brought to tears, and the people began to shout and cheer, but she couldn't hear them. The only thing running through her head was that Cullen had made it, Cullen was alive.

“What is going on out here?” Hawke rushed out the door, Josephine and Varric in tow. Ebrisa turned around at her approach and the Inquisitor halted in her tracks, her momentum nearly toppling her forward. “Sweet Andraste, you're awake!” She smiled widely and grabbed the mage's hand, holding it high in the air as she addressed the people. “The Herald of Andraste has returned to us! Let us all take comfort in her glowing presence. A beacon of hope for the dark days to come!”

The people cheered loudly while Hawke guided Ebrisa back up the steps and into the main hall. “Good morning, Sunshine.” Varric nodded with a huge grin on his face. “You are looking especially refreshed and holy today.”

Josephine could control herself no longer and squeed, pulling the mage into a tight hug. “Oh, I am so glad you have woken up, this past week has been so tense! Do you like the clothes? I can bring you more, and your quarters are only temporary. Once construction is complete, we shall move you into a much better room, I assure you. Ah, it's like I can finally breath again!”

“You may want to extend that courtesy, Josie.” Leliana cut in from the doorway.

“What? Oh!” Josephine hastily let go and took several steps back, her eyes shining.”Forgive me, my lady. I was overcome.”

Ebrisa waved away the issue with a timid smile. “It's alright, Lady Montilyet. Did you say I was asleep for a week? And where are we?”

“You gave us quiet a scare, my dear.” Vivienne said as she approached. “I see the servants have been taking good care of you.” She smoothed an elegant hand over Ebrisa's hair, almost affectionately.

“This place is called Skyhold,” Solas explained as the hall began to fill with the Inquisitor's inner circle. “An ancient stronghold we have claimed for the Inquisition. It is in need of repair, but the bones are strong.”

“Yes, it's wonderful...” Ebrisa looked around at the high ceiling and cracking windows.

“The people were saying you were communing with the Maker. I don't suppose...” Cassandra trailed off.

“I'm sorry, Seeker Pentaghast. It was just like all my other dreams.”

“You don't need to apologize,” Dorian laughed. “Mage-sicle that you were, any person would have been out for a while.”

“Still got your glow, but I think you turned it up a notch.” Sera scratched her head. “There a Herald dial on you somewhere?”

Blackwall and Iron Bull came into the hall laughing. “Don't go poking her to find out, or I'll hear of it.” Iron Bull smirked at the elf. “I do know a few people who could use a good poke, though.”

“You mean arrow poke or a poke poke?” Sera snickered.

The warden wrapped Ebrisa is a big bear hug, lifting her off the ground a few inches. “Welcome back! I've seen just about all the moping troops I could stand.” He set her back down, grinning widely. “Now the Inquisition has really settled, my lady.”

Ebrisa smiled awkwardly and looked around the room with a faint blush. “Thank you, everyone.”

Hawke cleared her throat, standing a little tense and frowning. “I hate to do this right now, but we need to know what happened in Haven. Who attacked us? Why? Are you up for a debriefing?”

The mage lowered her eyes. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

“Good, this way.” Hawke motioned to a door and looked around. “Where's Cullen? He needs to know this. Maybe he didn't hear?”

Ebrisa frowned in confusion. Cullen had definitely seen her.

“I'll go bring Curly to the war room,” Varric offered, already heading for the door. “You know him, been working nonstop getting us set up here.”

After Hawke took Ebrisa inside, Cullen snapped back to attention and looked at his baffled men. There was a lot of work that needed to be done before they could call Skyhold safe, and he was not taking any chances. The commander barked out orders again, jostling the men to their tasks. They had to be ready for anything.

“You missed the welcome wagon, you know. There was hugging and everything.”

Cullen looked at Varric as he came down the lower stairs. “There is much that still needs to be done.”

“You couldn't step away from scouting reports for two seconds for the Herald?”

“It is for her that I am working,” Cullen snapped. Varric raised a brow and smiled slowly. “I mean that we can't have a repeat of Haven. We can not put her in a position like that again.”

“Nice save,” Varric muttered. “Regardless, Sunshine is about to give Hawke the run down of the attack. They need you in the war room.”

“Right.” Cullen pushed away from his impromptu desk and moved past the dwarf.

“I would recommend taking a little private time after that,” Varric whispered and the commander paused, but said nothing, and continued on his way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, that's impossible!” Hawke slammed her fist on the large table, rattling the nearby figurines.

Ebrisa flinched and lowered her eyes. “That's what the creature said. The Elder One's name is Corypheus.”

Hawke slammed the table again. “No, I killed him! He's dead! Corypheus is dead!”

“The dragon he controlled resembled an archdemon,” Leliana said slowly. “Archdemons can only be killed by Grey Wardens. Perhaps this blighted magister is the same?”

“So, what? I didn't kill it right? I left him dead on the ground and...” Hawke trailed off, her anger morphing into disbelief. “I let him out. The wardens imprisoned him because they couldn't kill him, and I gave him a way out. I did this.”

“Inquisitor, we only know what the creature claims to be. Perhaps he adopted the name to give himself some level of credence with you.” Josephine offered.

“Maybe,” Hawke relaxed a little. “But how would it even know about Corypheus? Bethany has been running all over trying to-” She looked at Leliana suddenly, eyes wide with fear. “I must get word to my sister.”

“Of course.” The Orlesian and Inquisitor left the room quickly with Josephine moving briskly after.

Ebrisa was lost in the memory of the looming monster snarling at her, belittling her faith, and picking her up and tossing her like a rag doll. She had been no match for his power or strength. The only thing that kept her on her feet was her desperate need to stall for time until she saw the signal. Her crushing desire to save...

She looked up to find Cullen rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at her. He seemed troubled and Ebrisa felt ashamed for thinking so selfishly. “How many were lost?”

Cullen broke from his active avoidance and looked at the mage. “The majority of our people made it out. It could have been much worse...” He trailed off, the thought of them going with his initial plan unsettling him greatly.

Ebrisa nodded. “I see. I'm relieved that you-” she stopped and blushed, quickly correcting. “-that so many made it out alive.”

“As am I,” Cullen looked away again.

The mage felt a tightness in her chest and immensely foolish. What had she expected to happen when she awoke? For Cullen to pick her up and spin her in circles? To envelope her in his arms? He was only a few yards away, but it felt like miles. Maybe she had come on too strong in Haven. Perhaps she ruined his image of her to the point he could not look at her. What if he found out what she did in the tunnels? What if he knew she now wielded a fearsome and wicked power? She turned to leave before she teared up.

“You stayed behind.”

Ebrisa turned back to Cullen, seeing guilt on his face.

“You could have...” He looked up and moved the short distance between them. “I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again.” He reached out and gently held her cheek. “You have my word, Ebrisa.”

The mage's eyes widened in surprise, her heart beating wildly. “Wha-what did you call me?”

The commander withdrew his hand and rubbed his neck. “I though that if you were going to address me by name, I should extend the same courtesy. Even if I'm the only one to do it.” He looked at her sheepishly. “Unless you wouldn't like that?”

Ebrisa let out a small laugh before looking up at Cullen with a beautiful, bright smile and tears in her eyes. “Cullen, I love you,” her breath hitched and eyes widened, “-calling me that.” She hastily added, face aflame.

“Good then,” Cullen replied after a moment with a small smirk. “I should get back out there. The men tend to laze about when they think I'm not watching.”

“Of course.” Ebrisa beamed at him, unable to contain her happiness. The man marveled at how something so simple filled her with such joy. If he had known that was all it took to brighten her sad eyes, he would have used her name a long time ago. He nodded a farewell and exited the room, letting out a deep breath and trying to reign in the pounding in his chest.

Ebrisa was a beautiful woman, but its not until she smiles that her radiance really hits Cullen. He wondered if she knew that about herself or what her bright smiles did to him. There were a handful of times when she had looked at him so happily and smiled so radiantly that he couldn't breathe and all thoughts left him but one – she is so beautiful. Each of those times, they had been alone. Those smiles were just for him.

Cullen struggled to remove the grin and blush from his face before returning to his duties. She was the Herald of Andraste. She was too special to the people for him to harbor any feelings towards her.

He paused and looked down the hall, seeing the mage holding her cheek and smiling to herself. She was also Ebrisa, and he would not forget that.

Chapter Text

After finding her sister's location, Hawke lead a group to Crestwood to get her and the place had left the Herald emotionally drained. The mayor had caused so much death and pain to his own people. He sacrificed so many to save his home from the Blight. To live with that fact for ten years with the evidence staring you in the face every day would surely drive anyone mad. But he did not repent. The mayor only confessed after Hawke had discovered the truth on her own. He didn't even have the decency to stay and answer for his crimes. He ran away.

Despite her initial fear of using the mark on the many rifts plaguing the region and what could happen, the Anchor functioned as normal. There was no backlash of unholy magic or new gaping holes threatening to pull people into the Fade. Nothing to indicate what she had done after Haven's attack was a new ability. Perhaps it was a fluke caused by Corypheus' prodding after all. A one time occurrence forced out by his wicked meddling. Maker, let that be the case.

But now they were home with Hawke's sister, who had been hiding from the Grey Wardens for some time and was glad for a safe place. Bethany was a Grey Warden herself - a mage in fact – and Ebrisa had not expected that, given how distrusting Hawke seemed to be of mages.

“Can't wait to see Cullen again,” Bethany laughed as they passed under the gate, a shout going though the yard. “You say he finally managed to tame that hair?”

“Oh yeah,” Hawke threw back her head in laughter. “The curly poof has been slain. Figured out how to do a proper shave as well. He's looking pretty sharp these days.”

“Hmm,” Bethany smirked. “That's something I'd like to see.”

“The Warden's have made you saucy! But easy girl, he's still the same hard ass from Kirkwall.” Hawke dismounted in the lower yard and leveled an eye at her sister.

Bethany shrugged before climbing down from the horse. “You know me, I got a thing for butts.” The sisters burst into a fit of laughter, making up for lost time with an impressive quickness.

Ebrisa slowly dismounted, wearing her usual arrangement of armor, and tried to hide the slight blush on her cheeks. Its not like she was trying to eavesdrop, but the Hawke girls were really making it impossible to not hear them.

“You can take whatever hard bits you like if you can make him ease up.” Sera rolled her eyes. “Commander No-fun makes it impossible to play around here.”

Bethany winked at the elf. “Maybe I will. Let's get a look at him first.”

Sera snickered and nudged Iron Bull. “She's like a sexy version of Quizy.”

“Sera, I am standing right here. At least wait until I'm out of earshot to tell my sister she's prettier,” Hawke groaned.

“Didn't say pretty, now did I?” Sera folded her arms and stuck out her tongue.

“Alright, that's enough,” Blackwall chuckled. “That is our boss you're talking to. You can make fun of her after her debriefing.”

“Hey, not you too!” Hawke whined. “Why is the younger sister always prettier?”

“Don't go putting words in my mouth, Inquisitor. Especially false ones.” Hawke stared at the warden recruiter, blushing slightly. Blackwall cleared his throat. “I'll just go take these horses to the pens. Stable hands seem a bit slow today.”

Bethany nudged her sister after Blackwall left, a devious grin on her face. “Do not start, or I swear I will get the maids to slip rashvine into your bedding.” Hawke warned.

“Well look who it is, Curly.” Varric called out as they walked down the steps. “A lost little bird.”

“Varric!” Bethany exclaimed excitedly and ran over to give the dwarf a big hug. “How have you been? Bianca behaving?”

“She's resting. Its pretty tiring putting up with me all day,” he sighed.

“No kidding,” Cullen chuckled.

Bethany took a step back. “Whoa, look at you.”

Cullen blushed slightly and cleared his throat.

“How did you do this?” The warden began digging her fingers into his hair, then paused. “What happened here?” She brushed a finger lightly across the scar above his lip and he flinched.

“I'm a warrior, Bethany, I get scars.” He grumbled while lightly pushing her hands away.

“And you are supposed to wear a helmet to protect those striking features on your face, silly.”

“Okay, okay,” Hawke came up behind them and ushered the Kirkwall group up the stairs. “You can flirt later. We need to debrief the advisors on all this crazy Warden nonsense.”

“Aww,” the mage whined.

“It won't be so bad, Bethany.” Varric assured her. “Over before you know it.”

“Why are you being so formal? What was it you called me?” Bethany drummed her fingers on her chin in thought. “Oh yeah, Sunshine! That was it!”

The group went inside and Sera and Iron Bull snuck off to the kitchens, leaving Ebrisa still standing at the hart's side. She held the reigns tightly and stared at nothing, trying to process what just happened. It only made sense that Hawke's sister would be familiar with the others from Kirkwall, but wasn't she a little too familiar with Cullen? She was flirting and the commander didn't seem to object. How close had they been in Kirkwall? And Varric? Ebrisa had thought he was a friend, but the name he called her belonged to another. Now that Bethany was here, Ebrisa felt terribly out of place. She was still the Herald, but things felt like they shifted dramatically.

“Your worship?” Ebrisa jumped at the voice and turned to Dennet. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes.” The mage's voice sounded strange to her ears. “I was hoping I might brush down Rufous today.” She looked up at the horse master and tried to smile.

Dennet's brow furrowed as he studied her face. “Of course, Herald.”

They walked silently to the stables and Ebrisa set to work gently grooming the hart. She focused on her task and nothing else, just running the stiff brush in long, smooth strokes. Drops fell on the back on her gloves and she looked up for rain or melting snow, but saw nothing. She went back to brushing, her vision blurring as she realized she was crying, but she continued. The brush slipped from her hand and Ebrisa knelt down to retrieve it, but once she was on the ground she couldn't bring herself to get back up. She wept quietly into her hands, feeling foolish and alone. Rufous nudged her gently with his head and Ebrisa embraced it, crying hidden tears into the animal's fur.

It made no sense to be feeling this way, she knew that. There was nothing between her and Cullen and no reason someone else couldn't make advances towards him – why wouldn't they? It made no sense, but she couldn't stop the twist of jealousy and and squeezing ache in her heart.

Dennet watched her from the end of the stables, awkwardly holding a bucket of feed. He was never good with crying girls – left Senna to his wife when she got all misty eyed – but he couldn't just watch the Herald in tears.

“I've heard great things about the Trevelyan's horses,” he began, startling the mage. “You put a horse on your crest and you have to be at least a little good.” Dennet didn't look away from his task and pretended he couldn't see Ebrisa crying. “Always thought it was just Marchers bragging to feel good about themselves, honestly. Know what surprised me the most when I joined up with you lot? Happy, hearty plow negs who could almost keep up with a proper herd. Almost. Breeding plays a big part.

“Took some time, but I got that little stable boy to admit you had done the majority of the caring. Imagine my surprise that a little lady from Ostwick even got a red hart to play nice. Those are stubborn beasts.”

Dennet continued to talk as he worked around the stable, never looking at Ebrisa. He may not know much about girls, but he knew plenty about horses and could keep talking for hours. Whatever it took.

Ebrisa touched his arm lightly and Dennet stopped, turning to finally look at her. Her eyes were red and cheeks flushed, but she did smile at him. “Thank you, Master Dennet.”

The man nodded. “Of course, your worship. I'm always here if you ever need... to talk about horses.” A tiny smile peeked out from behind his beard.

“I'll remember that,” the mage handed him the brush and headed for her room.

“You did well,” Blackwall said from the wall.

Dennet frowned. “If you were here, why didn't you help?”

Blackwall raised up his hands. “You think I would have done any better?” He smiled. “I know practically nothing about horses.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So then Merril shoved the entire pie into a planter and told Mother she loved it!” Bethany covered her mouth to keep her laughter in control.

“I never knew she was allergic to blueberries,” Hawke smiled. “Mother made her so many of those!”

“I know! Poor thing didn't want to be rude, so she just kept accepting them with this sweet smile on her face.” Bethany wiped her eyes as the laughter subsided. “You have any word from her lately?”

The Inquisitor shook her head. “Nothing since the rebellion began.”

“Daisy is resourceful. I'm sure she's doing just fine.” Varric adjusted in the chair and tried to sound reassuring.

The door opened suddenly and the trio all turned to look. Ebrisa stood there, frozen and eyes still a bit red. “Oh.” She glanced around the room, noticing its new arrangement. “Apologies.” Then she closed the door and left.

“Oooookay?” Bethany faced her sister in confusion.

“Aw, piss. This used to be the Herald's room. Josephine asked me to tell her.” Hawke scrambled off the bed and out the door.

“She's kind of weird,” Bethany said.

“You're just now noticing?” Varric laughed.

“Not my sister, the-” Bethany sat up straighter and lifted a dainty hand to her eyes, “Herald of Andraste.”

“Don't be like that. Sunshine is a good kid,” Varric poured himself more wine.

“I think you meant, 'Don't be like that, Sunshine. She's a good kid'.” Bethany laughed. “How much have you had to drink?”

The dwarf stilled, realization setting in. He looked up at his friend and smiled halfheartedly. “Yeah, how much indeed.”

“Herald, hold on!” Hawke caught up with the mage and sighed. “You sure move fast.”

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” Ebrisa began, holding her frazzled emotions at bay.

“No, no, this is on me.” Hawke waved her hand. “See, while we were gone, they finished your room. Josephine asked me to tell you, but then Varric brought up some wine and it just completely slipped my mind. Come on, I'll show you.” The Inquisitor lead Ebrisa through the main building and outside.

“Your sister... she seems to be close to Master Varric and Cullen.” Ebrisa was screaming at herself to stop talking, but she couldn't. She had to know. “They were good friends before?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course.” Hawke smiled. “You know how Varric gets friendly with everyone – he could make friends with a cat if you left them alone long enough. And Cullen? Well, he knew she was an apostate, but he never brought her in. Had a super strict commander too, but he kept looking the other way.”

“That's quite the risk he took,” Ebrisa said slowly.

“Yeah, well, we were doing a lot of good out there on the streets, so I'm sure that was part of it.” Hawke snickered suddenly. “She used to wear this one dress that just made her breasts so perky. Like, shoved them right in your face. With the height difference between them, in order for him to look at her face, he couldn't help but...” Hawke trailed off, noticing the furious blush on Ebrisa's face. “Just, never mind.”

They reached the corner of the lower yard and Hawke pointed upwards. “There's your new room, just right up those steps and to the left. Prime location for playing with the horses. You do that, right?”

“Yes?”

“Well, perfect then. Enjoy!” Hawke patted the Herald's shoulder and hurried back to her sister.

“So, we're neighbors then? I promise, that wasn't a pun.” Blackwall walked out of the workshop and looked up the steps. “A nice quiet corner all your own. Save the horses, of course.”

“I used to fall asleep to their whinnies as a girl, Ser Blackwall. This should be very peaceful.” Ebrisa smiled gently and closed her eyes.

“It would be better if you slept in your room, my lady,” Blackwall laughed. “Let me know if you would like some hot water brought up.”

Ebrisa suddenly remembered she was still dirty from the road. “Yes, that would be lovely.” The warden nodded and set about placing a pot on the fire.

The mage opened the door of her new room and looked around. It was indeed much larger and warmer than the previous one. Tapestries hung on the wall, keeping out the cold from the windows and a plush, circular rug lay in the center of the room. There was a canopy bed with an absurd amount of pillows on it and a settee at the foot. She had several wardrobes and chest of drawers filled with clothes. Josephine had not been joking about the dresses. A vanity sat piled with brushes and combs as well as makeup and jewelry. Was she expected to wear them?

There was an odd, second door in her room which went further down the ramparts to a large break in the wall. She hummed curiously before locking the door. Directly to the left of the door was a dressing screen and behind that lay something Ebrisa never expected to see. “A bath.” It was already partially filled with water and seemed to drain outside when the plug was removed. A small table nestled next to it, covered in bottles of oils and different bars of soap. This was more than she ever hoped to see.

Ebrisa took off her armor and boots, setting them on the settee and began to undo her messy hair. By the time it was down and brushed, there was a knock on her door.

“Here you are, my lady.” Blackwall held the steaming water aloft. “Where would you like it?”

Ebrisa stepped back and pointed excitedly to the metal tub. “In the bath.” She covered her face with her hands. “I have a bath.”

Blackwall chuckled as he dumped the water. “You can take the lady out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the lady.” He turned around to face the embarrassed mage. “Enjoy your bath, my lady.” He left down the stairs and could plainly hear Ebrisa giggle in excitement. He chuckled again. It was the little things, really.

Ebrisa set a towel and dressing gown over the open screen and removed the rest of her clothing, setting them on the lower ledge of the table. Carefully, slowly, she eased into the hot water and sighed. This was the first real bath she'd had since leaving her family home. Ostwick's Circle had large group baths of recessed stone and after that she made do with basins and cloths or cold rivers. To be here in a room of her own with a tub and soaps and oils and – was that a box of rose petals? Ebrisa laughed and tried to decide with soap scent to use first.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen stepped out of the gatehouse, annoyed. That was the second time this week Jevin had been late for his rotation and the man had nothing but excuses. After a good berating, he swore to never let it happen again, but Cullen remained skeptical. He shuffled the reports in his hands, looking for someone who might inevitably take Jevin's post. He walked up the steps and sighed at the still missing survey on the perimeter wall integrity. Yes, it was a sheer drop of the mountain beyond the broken section, but surely they couldn't leave the massive gap there forever. The commander grumbled in annoyance and decided to just do the inspection himself and be done with it.

He entered the corner room and paused slightly at the laid out armor. He had nearly forgotten Ebrisa had come back today. He hadn't seen her when Hawke returned and the whole 'false-calling' thing with the Wardens had him distracted. The inspection definitely had to be done today in order to not bother the new resident of the room. Cullen crossed the rest of the floor and pulled at the other door, finding it oddly locked. He sighed and reached for the latch, but stilled at the sound of dripping water. He looked to his left and froze, nearly dropping his reports.

Ebrisa lay asleep in the tub.

Cullen turned away quickly, heart pounding, and hurried out the first door, slamming it closed in his haste.

Blackwall looked up from his wood chopping at the noise and watched as Cullen hurried down the steps. “Were you just-?”

“No,” Cullen cut him off, face red.

“The Herald is taking a-”

“Yes.”

“Did you see-?”

“No!” Cullen quickly cut in. “Perhaps a glimpse,” he relented. “It was an accident!”

Blackwall folded his arms. “Oh Commander, that is most shameful.”

“It was an accident!” Cullen repeated, blushing furiously. “I didn't know she was in there. The door was unlocked!”

“A peeping tom of convenience is still a peeping tom, ser.”

“Now you listen to me, warden,” the commander began. “This didn't happen. If you tell anyone – and I mean anyone – I will see to it that you become acquainted with the cliff face.”

Blackwall couldn't help the small shudder that ran down his spine as he saw the intensity in the other man's eyes. This was no idle threat. “On my honor, Commander.”

Cullen nodded, satisfied, and took the long way around to his office, needing more time to calm down. Try as he might, he couldn't get the image out of his mind.

Ebrisa lay in the milky water, rose petals floating around. Her golden hair stuck to her wet neck and shoulders, slipping over her breasts to dance and fan out on the water's surface, barely reaching her raised knees. Her head lolled to the side, face peaceful and soft lips parted slightly. Invitingly. Beads of water slipped from her hair, rolling slowly between-

Cullen swatted his face with the reports. Stop that. This was the Herald of Andraste. She was not there to ogle at. She was to be respected, revered, worshiped... He paused and his face heated again. Why did so many words have innocent and improper meanings? He saw a patch of snow on the ground and smashed a handful into his face. That was a bit better.

“Commander?” Cassandra called slowly. “Are you alright?”

“Don't worry about it. This has nothing to do with lyrium.” He grabbed another handful and repeated, the Seeker eyeing him curiously.

“Alright then, if you're certain.”

Cullen scoffed and headed up to the battlements. “Maker, I wish it did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lady Montilyet, please don't take this the wrong way, but you are my favorite person.” Ebrisa walked right up to the ambassador and enveloped her in a hug.

“The bath?” Josephine asked with a hint of amusement.

“The bath,” Ebrisa sighed and released her. “This is like a dream. And situating me near the stables? I feel like I'm really home.”

“Oh? Well I had nothing to do with that,” Josephine relented. “If you're looking to dispense another hug, I believe Commander Cullen is in his office. He said you always looked so serene when you tended them and with the room options being by the horses or the tavern, I think he made the right call.”

“And where is his office? Last I saw, he was working out of the lower yard.”

“Are you going to give him a hug?” Josephine smirked.

Ebrisa blushed. “A thank you, if nothing else.”

“Go through the door by the fireplace and then to your right.” The Antivan explained, pointing down the hall. “What do you think of your wardrobe? I can replace anything you dislike.”

“My dear Lady Montilyet, I don't think you could fit any more dresses in there. Please don't see that as a challenge.”

Josephine laughed again. “So this is what a bath does for you? I shall ensure your oils and soaps remain fully stocked.”

The mage smiled shyly and gave a parting curtsy before leaving the ambassador to her work. When she stepped out of the rotunda's door, she realized that Cullen's office was across from her room. The sun was getting low and Cullen no doubt had a lot of work left to finish, so Ebrisa decided to hurry.

Cullen rubbed his eyes and groaned. He had been unable to get any work done since returning to his office. Perhaps he needed a good drink or meditation to clear his head. At least his face would no longer heat at the mental image torturing him. A soft knock echoed from the door and Cullen moaned. “Enter,” he growled, annoyed to no end.

Ebrisa poked her head in timidly. “I can come back later if I'm interrupting...”

The commander jumped to his feet.”No, no, come in, please.”

She stepped in and closed the door, careful to not catch her skirt. “I'll try to be quick. It looks like you have a lot of work still to do.”

“Yes, well, I'm used to it.”

Ebrisa frowned. “It's getting late. Are you certain?”

“Of course.” Cullen took a breath. “What can I do for you?”

“Its a bit silly, but I wanted to thank you for putting me next door. Hearing the horses and smelling the hay as I sleep is something I didn't think I would have again. Lady Montilyet said it was your idea.” Ebrisa smiled warmly and tilted her head, like when she was -

Cullen shook his head and took a moment to focus. “Think nothing of it.”

The mage paused and studied him. He seemed distracted. “It...” She began softly. “It must be good to have Ser Bethany here.”

“Yes. I haven't heard the Inquisitor laugh this much in a while.” Cullen smiled.

“She seems nice,” Ebrisa continued.

He chuckled quietly. “Bethany was always the more approachable of the two.”

“Oh.” Ebrisa looked down, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “She's rather pretty.”

“She is,” Cullen relented. “But not as-” he stopped and blushed, clearing his throat. “Not as though it matters.”

“Can't think. So beautiful. Soft, supple. If only-”

Cullen slammed his hand loudly on his desk, blushing furiously. “Cole, what did I say?!”

Cole jumped down from the book shelf, head hung low. “Not around other people. But this is my secret friend!”

Ebrisa's eyes widened at the sight of the young man. “Ser Cole! You're here!”

“Yes. Cullen said I could stay. He's a secret friend now too.”

The mage was baffled. “I haven't seen you since the attack on Haven. Why haven't you talked to me?”

“No, you saw me in the snow. You tried to sleep. Wouldn't move.” Cole looked down. “So close to being gone.”

Ebrisa shivered. Was she really so close to dying? “So how...?”

“I brought you Cullen, he brought you back. Precious. Protect. Never lose again.”

Cullen coughed. “Cole, its getting late.”

“Yes. Night time is rest time. Good night!” With that, the boy vanished.

The Herald watched the ground. “No one said it was that bad. I didn't know...”

“We didn't want to scare you,” Cullen began. “The weather on its own would have been bad enough, but you started with so little protection and were out so long...”

“I was wet...” Ebrisa said slowly. “I had exhausted myself and was laying in water. I couldn't cast.” Her breath hitched as she remembered and she wrapped her arms around herself. “It was so cold. Everything froze so quickly. It was...” She began to panic.

Cullen pulled her against him in a comforting embrace and rubbed her back soothingly. “Its alright. You're safe. You're alright.” The mage's breathing returned to normal as she slowly relaxed. She closed her eyes and nuzzled against his chest unconsciously. Cullen stiffened as he watched her peacefully rest against him, her hair still smelling of lavender and rose petals. He wished he wasn't wearing armor so he could actually feel her body heat radiate against him. The thought made him blush and he carefully pulled her away.

Ebrisa seemed to suddenly realize what she'd done and hid her face in her hands. “I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me!” She hurriedly forced out. “I should go, good night.” Ebrisa rushed out the side door to her room and frantically pulled on the handle. She didn't have the key.

“I guess I'll just stay out here forever then,” she mumbled, too mortified to try and find someone to assist.

“Its locked, isn't it?” Cullen said from behind her, and Ebrisa jumped.

“It is...” she relented.

The commander couldn't help but laugh and Ebrisa's face grew all the redder. “Hold on, I should have a key.” He withdrew the key ring from his belt and began sifting through them. “Now these are all still new, but it should be one of these.” he said slowly as he squinted at the bits of metal. He got the lock on the second try and smiled. “There we go.”

Ebrisa looked up at him shyly through her lashes.”You can't tell anyone.”

“You have my word,” Cullen chuckled as he began to disconnect the key. “I suppose you'll want this.”

“No keep it,” Ebrisa bit her lower lip. “I've already lost one key. It will be safer with you.”

“But these are your private quarters,” Cullen began.

“I trust you, Cullen.”

“If you're certain...” He set the keys away, not feeling very trustworthy after barging in earlier that day. “Good night, Ebrisa.”

“Good night.” The mage closed the door and sighed, disappointed with herself. Cullen had held her and comforted her in a moment of need, and she took advantage, trying to gather more warmth into her heart. Selfish and jealous in the span of a few minutes. She would need to pray twice as long tonight.

Chapter Text

With the Inquisition growing as big as it was, there were hardly any tasks for Ebrisa to help with. Most people refused her aid humbly and promised they could mange with the numbers they already had, but every once in a while a healer would let her sort herbs or a kitchen staffer would let her knead some dough after the mage explained the confectionery in her family home let her help bake all the time. For the most part, the mage was left to wander and keep herself busy, which is what brought her to the garden yard that warm afternoon. She swept out the Chantry altar room and corrected the heavy statue with a little bit of magic... only because she could not physically lift the thing herself. She turned her eye to the overgrown yard and wondered what it would look like when Skyhold was renovated. Surely at least a little effort would be spent here.

Did she mention it was warm?

“I still can't believe this place was just... here!” Bethany breathed as Cullen walked with her.

“And I can't believe the Inquisitor hasn't already given you a tour.” The commander shook his head. “She loves showing off.”

“Weird, right?” The warden grinned to herself. “Thanks for agreeing to show me around.”

“There was time and you needed to know where things are.” He shrugged as they passed though the main hall. “There's a garden through here. Its not exactly a priority at the moment.” They went through the side door and into the sunlight.

“Wow. No wonder its not a priority.” Bethany looked around at the tall, yet consistent grass and defined cobbled walkway. “For no one living here, this place is in really good shape.”

“That's strange.” Cullen could have sworn the courtyard was a mess. “I know the well was covered in vines, at least.”

They walked to the cleared gazebo, Bethany standing closer than before. “This is nice. Very peaceful.”

Cullen glanced at a broom leaning against a pillar. That explained it, someone cleaned up, but who had the time? He turned around to look over the yard again as the warden reached out for his arm. There was a hint of a skirt peaking from behind a mound of grass and Cullen moved towards it curiously, Bethany following with a quiet groan.

Ebrisa lay asleep in a patch of sunlight, piles of plucked and sorted weeds and herbs around her. “Seriously?” the warden muttered as she took in the sight. “What is she, a cat?”

Cullen knelt down, taking hold of one of the Herald's stained, gloved hands. “I should have known. Who else would weed an abandoned garden?”

“Is this what the Herald of Andraste does? Tucker herself out on meaningless tasks?” Bethany chuckled. “Should I get some well water to wake her up?”

“No, I've got it,” the commander sighed. He shook the sleeping mage gently. “Ebrisa. You can't sleep here, come on.”

Ebrisa frowned and turned over. She stretched and let out an airy moan, arching her back and rolling her head to the side. She blinked open her eyes and winced against the sun. “I what?”

Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to recover from the simultaneously innocent and erotic display. Was his mind going to twist everything about the Herald now?

“He said grown ups don't fall asleep in gardens.” Bethany smirked. She turned to look at Cullen, ready to tease the other mage, but stilled at his rigid form and blushing face. Seriously? The Herald stretches and mewls and he gets excited? That hardly seemed fair.

Ebrisa sat up and yawned behind her hand. “I'm sorry, it was just so warm.” She flared out her dress and began to set the herbs on the fabric. “I should get these to Master Adan. They were running low on embrium.” She stood up slowly, trying to keep her piles from mixing as she held the fabric of her main skirt out.

“That's not very lady like, you know.” Cullen chuckled.

Ebrisa blushed and looked away. “Well I didn't bring anything with me to carry them, so just don't let Lady Montilyet or Madame Vivienne see and it will be fine.”

Cullen stood up with a sigh. “I'll get the doors for you.”

“Oh, right, doors...” The Herald paused. “I forgot about doors.”

The commander chuckled and lead the way, the blondes leaving Bethany behind to stew in her annoyance. She wasn't about to give up just yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though she respected the enchanter greatly and had learned much, Vivienne just didn't seem to be the right instructor for Ebrisa anymore. The older woman was fierce and calculating in battle, often joining the warriors with a glowing blade of pure energy and impressive shielding, but she focused only on two things – herself and her enemy. The Herald knew her place was not on the front lines and that she would never be able to ignore those fighting beside her, so she humbly asked Vivienne for forgiveness and released her from training duties. The older woman only sighed wistfully and tilted her head. “The way of the Knight Enchanter is not for everyone, my dear. Do not fret about it.”

With no formal instructor, the Herald returned to her old habit of studying by herself. The rotunda was a rare quiet in the early hours and the click of Ebrisa's foot falls echoed throughout the tower. She trailed a finger lightly across the book spines as she searched for something new. It was all the some Chantry lore, magic theory, and ancient legends that she had read dozens of times before in the Circle and her dreams.

Josephine was trying her best to fill the shelves with useful tomes, but it was a slow process. Ebrisa wanted to learn something new, not find something to fill her day. She tapped her finger on a volume by Brother Genitivi and sighed.

“I see I am not the only one disappointed by the collection.” Dorian leaned against the shelf beside her. “What does a man have to do to get a decent passage on the effects of undistilled lyrium in ward setting?” He chuckled to himself, but Ebrisa began searching the books before her.

“Here you are, Master Pavus,” Ebrisa smiled as she held out an open book.

Dorian took it skeptically and glanced over the page. After a moment he looked up in shock. “How did you know that was there?”

Ebrisa shrugged slightly, her shawl slipping from her shoulder. “I read a lot in my dreams.”

The Tevinter laughed. “I almost believe you. Really now, how did you remember the page number?”

“I must have read that tome at least five times while I slept.”

“My dear,” Dorian began, “You can't read in the Fade.”

“What? Of course you can.” Ebrisa's lips pouted in confusion.

“While that face is darling, I'll prove it.” Dorian stepped to the railing and leaned over. “Oh Solas? I know you're down there.”

Ebrisa heard an annoyed, echoy reply and moved to the railing as well.

“Being the Fade expert that you are, could you tell us if one can read new books in the Fade when entering by conventional means?”

Solas looked up at them from his painting supplies. “Unfortunately not. The spirits pull from the dreamer to construct the world around them and if the tome is not already memorized, there is nothing to replicate.”

“There now, you can't pull one over on me, Herald.” Dorian's triumphant smile faltered as he took in the utter confusion on Ebrisa's face.

“But I do...”

The Tevinter folded his arms and leaned in, intrigued. “What else do you do in your dreams?”

“Oh, well, not much.” Ebrisa relented as she adjusted her woolen shawl. “I talk with my mother and walk the fortress. You can see why I read so often.”

“You always dream of the same place? For how long?”

Ebrisa paused to think. “It wasn't long after my magic manifested. Somewhere in the seventh year, I believe.”

Dorian bent over the railing again and called down to the elf. “You should really get up here, Solas. The Herald is making some rather interesting claims about the Fade.”

“I'm not-” Ebrisa began to protest.

“Hush now, I need a witness.” Dorian held up a finger and the woman quietened.

Solas appeared from the stairwell, and shook his head. “What is it now, Dorian?”

“Go ahead, dear.” Dorian motioned to the Herald. “You were saying you've had the same dream since you were seven?”

“Not the same,” Ebrisa tried to explain. “Its the same place but each time is different. I'll read a book, play something, or have a conversation... its always different.”

Solas tilted his head slightly and regarded the Herald. “Have you tried to dream something else?”

“Of course, but the door won't open.” Ebrisa looked down.

“The door?”Solas frowned.

“Out of the fortress. There are no windows, but there is a large door that I can never budge. It has to be to the rest of the Fade.”

Dorian plucked a random book from the shelf. “The Botanical Compendium by Ines Arancia.” He read the title aloud. “You know it? From the Fade?”

Ebrisa nodded.

He cracked open the book to a random page and began reading. “Pale blue and shaped like delicate crystal bells. The flowers should almost tinkle in the breeze.” He stopped and looked at Ebrisa expectantly.

She took a moment to search her memory. “In fact, I have heard a tale of an Orlesian lady who ordered crystal grace to be planted all over her bower and then hired a mage from the White Spire to enchant them to do just that.”

Solas and Dorian looked up from the passage and stared in disbelief. “Well,” Dorian said after a while, “Should this whole beacon of the faithful thing not pan out, you could always rent yourself out as a walking encyclopedia.”

“If its alright, I'd like to see your dreams,” Solas asked softly.

Dorian threw his hands up in the air. “Is everyone in the South special? Is it in the water? How long until I see results?”

Solas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “This is more an elven gift then a regional mutation.” He turned back to Ebrisa. “Do I have your permission to observe?”

The Herald hesitated. Its not like she had anything to hide, but were her dreams really so strange? “I suppose... what do I need to do?”

“Just be aware of your surroundings while you sleep. If you feel my presence, think acceptance.” Solas set his hands behind his back. “I promise to only observe.”

“Oh, lots of you here early today,” a man carrying a small crate whistled as he passed the group. He opened the crate by an empty shelf and began setting books away. “Just arrived. Demonology and epic poems. Not sure what they have to do with one another, but here they are!”

Ebrisa moved tentatively close to the new books, heart pounding. She had been forbidden from studying demons while in the Circle and it was really something she should know. She extended a shaking hand to the crate and withdrew a book. “I'll be borrowing this one, if that's alright.”

“Whatever suits you,” the man replied before turning to grab more books. He froze at the sight of Ebrisa. “That is, of course, your worship. Please enjoy, my lady. Ma'am.”

Ebrisa nodded awkwardly and walked away.

Dorian sighed as she left. “That better not have been the third volume of Ancient Evils she just took. I've been waiting for that for weeks!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa hummed curiously as she read the dusty book under a tree by the tavern. Much of what it told her things she had already learned from facing the demons in battle and the whole tome seemed rather basic and straight forward. She wasn't sure what she expected to discover, honestly. The mage turned the page and read an account of meeting a desire demon and she found it odd that they had yet to encounter one by the rifts. Didn't they want to be in the physical world too?

She flipped to the next page and gasped, dropping the book at the sight of the illustration. Hesitantly, she picked the book back up and blushed. “This has to be an exaggeration.”

“Oh, who's that saucy horned beauty?” Iron Bull leaned over and studied the sketch.

Ebrisa squeaked and held the book to her chest.

“Are you looking at something naughty, little lady?” The qunari grinned widely. “Didn't know you had it in you.”

“I-I am not!” She protested quickly. “This is a book on demons!”

He stiffened. “So that drawing was of...?”

“A desire demon.” She turned to the queasy qunari and frowned. “Ser Iron Bull, are you alright?”

“I think I'm going to be sick.” He ran off suddenly around the corner, dry heaving as he leaned against a wall.

“Hey now, what did you do to my mercenary captain?” Hawke called out as she and Bethany approached.

“I don't think your lady chanter agrees with his Qun-y ways,” the warden chuckled.

“No, it was...” Ebrisa began slowly. “Lady Inquisitor, have you ever come across a desire demon?”

“Oh yeah. They're a... determined bunch.” Hawke shook her head.

“Do... do they really look like this?” The Herald held out the book awkwardly for the sisters to look at.

Hawke laughed loudly. “Yup, breasts on full display, slinky little skirts, touching themselves all over the place. One of them turned a friend of mine against us for the promise of a ship and some... alone time.”

“Isabela?” Bethany smirked.

“Isabela,” Hawke sighed.

“Goodness.” Ebrisa turned the book back around and skipped to the next section. “Demons usually look so monstrous in their natural form, that I thought perhaps this mage was under an illusion.”

“Well most demons are just raw power, but desire could be anything, so it needs to talk with you to figure out what you want.” Bethany began. “Most of the time, however, it can simply sway its target with sex.”

The Herald blushed furiously. “It what?”

The warden raised a brow and smirked. “The most basic desire is often the most tempting. Its always at the front of a man's mind.” She loosened the ties of her blouse and slipped it off her shoulder. “Just watch.”

Bethany walked over to a guardsman standing by the armory. “Excuse me, but I appear to be lost. Which way is it to the tavern?”

The guard looked at her briefly, blushing slightly. “Its, uh, just right over there.” He pointed to the building and Bethany turned to look, than back to the man.

She crossed an arm under her chest, lifting her breasts and played with her hair with the other hand. “Oh, it was so close!” She giggled and pressed her hand to the man's chest. “I'm so sorry to have bothered such a handsome man for something so silly.”

“Not a bother at all,” he smiled and looked her over more thoroughly. “Perhaps I can find you in there later?”

Bethany brought a finger to her lips and smiled slowly. “I would like that.” She walked away, grinning with the knowledge that he was watching her. “See?” She smiled triumphantly at the Herald.

Hawke sighed and held her face in her hands. “What happened to the quiet sister I had? Bethany, all you've shown is you know how to flirt. Unless you were trying to prove that you, yourself, are a desire demon.”

“Now that would be an abomination worth seeing,” Bethany laughed. “Think I would look much different?”

“Honestly, no. No, I don't.” The Inquisitor smirked. “Horns would be a nice touch, though.”

“Definitely would get to Cullen faster,” Bethany snickered, looking down at the modestly dressed Herald. “Its just a matter of time. He is a man, after all.”

Hawke rolled her eyes and pushed her sister along. “Yes, yes. I know. You want to jump my commander. At least wait until after we fix this warden problem, okay?”

“No promises,” Bethany called in a sing-song voice as they headed across the yard.

Ebrisa sat frozen on the grass, the book forgotten in her hands. She knew Bethany had been flirting with Cullen a lot, but hadn't considered what that meant. Cullen hadn't exactly been protesting the warden's advances, so what if he felt the same way? Ebrisa couldn't do anything to stop them. Would he and Bethany...?

“There you are, my lady,” Blackwall chuckled as he walked up to her. “You wanted to see that rocking griffon when I finished it? Well, its all done.” He paused and took in the dazed look on her face. “My lady?”

Ebrisa jumped. “What? Oh, yes, of course.” She numbly closed the book and rose to her feet with a forced smile.

Blackwall folded his arms and frowned. “Has something happened?”

The mage looked down sadly. “Not yet, but if it does, I'm not sure what I can do about it.”

Chapter Text

“Mother? Why are there no books on demons or the Fade here?” Ebrisa hadn't noticed it before, but now that she thought on it the exclusion seemed odd.

“A lady needn't concern herself with demons,” the spirit laughed. “They can not posses you. You are safe, child.”

The mage sat up straighter as a familiar aura drew near. “Oh, that's right. Master Solas...” She closed her eyes and concentrated on allowing him into her dream.

“What are you doing, sweetling?” The spirit's voice had a slight edge to it, but kept its smile.

“My friend asked to visit. Would you like to meet him?”

The spirit turned away sharply, its dress swishing loudly against the floor. “I'm afraid I'm not up for guests at the moment. Do remember to be a gracious host.” The figure walked off down the hall and out of sight.

Ebrisa continued to think acceptance and of letting Solas inside until she heard a knock on the massive door. Surprised, she jumped to her feet and rushed to the stubborn thing. “Master Solas?” She called out, unsure. There was no reply, just more pounding. The mage took a deep breath and yanked open the door for the first time.

Solas tumbled inside, exhausted, and the door slammed shut behind him. Ebrisa quickly helped him to his feet. “Are you alright?”

The elf took a few deep breaths. “That is quite the wall you have erected. I was beginning to think I would never make it through.” He looked around and studied the room. “Interesting. Is this your Circle of Magi?”

“No, I've never been to this place in the waking world.” Ebrisa shrugged.

Solas picked up a book and flipped it open, brow furrowing. “Intriguing. Are these books you've read outside?”

“Some are repeated, but most I have only encountered here.” She paused. “Can you read it?”

“Astonishingly, I can.” The elf closed the book and set it down, eyeing the ceiling. “There is a presence. It does not want me here.”

“Mother said she wasn't up to any company. Well, the spirit taking Mother's form.” Ebrisa corrected.

“And is that something your mother would do?”

She frowned. “Well, no. Mother jumped at any chance to entertain.”

“So this spirit is not truly reflecting your mother's memory.” Solas said slowly, moving down the hall to the tower steps.

“What are you doing?” Ebrisa followed him up the stairs.

“It is angry that I am here. I shall simply explain to the spirit I mean you no harm.”

“But she said she wasn't up to guests.” Ebrisa struggled to keep up with the elf as he hurried up the steps to the tower door. Solas turned the handle and was blown back by a wave of fire, knocking into Ebrisa and sending them both toppling down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa shot up awake on the floor, frantic and head throbbing. There was a wetness on the back of her skull and she touched the painful spot carefully. She gasped suddenly in realization and jumped up and out the door. She burst into Cullen's office in only her nightdress, startling the commander from his work.

“What's-” he began.

“Master Solas is hurt!” She exclaimed as she ran out the other door towards the rotunda. Cullen followed closely after. They found Solas on the floor by his sofa, wincing.

“Master Solas!” Ebrisa flicked her hand to light the candles and tried to help the elf up. He grimaced in pain, his skin hot and red, but not blistered. “You're burnt, how?”

“I wish I knew that,” he groaned. “I said that spirit was angry, but I did not expect it to lash out like that.”

“Come, lets get you to the infirmary,” Cullen offered.

“No, this I can mend myself.” Solas waved away the aid and sat carefully on the couch. “I would recommend that the Herald not go to sleep for a while. I don't know how a spirit that angry made it past your mind's walls, but you should wait for it to leave to be on the safe side.”

“I see.” Ebrisa looked down, confused. It hadn't seemed angry earlier that night. “Rest well, Master Solas.”

Cullen lead Ebrisa back across the walkway, reassuring her Solas would be fine. She stood in his office awkwardly. “He said not to sleep for a while, but I fear I may nod off if I go back in my room.” She looked up at the commander sheepishly. “Could I, possibly, share your company for a bit?”

Cullen stared at her, mildly surprised.

“I would be in the way, wouldn't I?” She sighed and turned to leave.

“Wait, what's that?” The commander came up behind her and removed his gloves, gingerly touching the growing dark spot in her hair. “Your head is bleeding. Here, sit down.” Ebrisa took a seat while Cullen dug through his desk drawers for the small box of ointments and bandages. “I've had quite the number of minor injuries myself, so I picked up a few things about mending.” He open the box and handed it to Ebrisa. “Assistant, if you'd please hold this.” The mage held the kit while Cullen carefully parted her hair and examined the wound. “Looks like you caught the corner of something.” He reached into the box and withdrew a scrap of clean linen. “This will sting a bit.”

Ebrisa winced as he tended her wound and tried to stay still.

“So, how did you know Solas was hurt?”

“There was a blast of fire in my dream, and it knocked us back.” She slowly answered. “When I saw I was harmed, I reasoned he had to be as well.”

“You were... dreaming about him?”

“Oh, no, he visited my dream,” she quickly explained. “He and Master Pavus were distrusting of my nightly experience in the Fade, so he came to see for himself.”

Cullen paused. “He can do that?”

“Apparently. I had to focus very hard to let him in, so I don't think he makes it a habit of flittering around our dreams.” The mage smiled, then winced as Cullen held cloth firmly against her head.

“Apologies, but this will need a few stitches. I'll have to wake the healers.”

Ebrisa looked down into the box and spied a needle and thread. “Can't you do it? I don't want to bother someone because I fell out of bed.” She tilted her head back to look at the commander.

“You would have a scar,” he hesitated.

“Under my hair,” Ebrisa laughed. “Its alright, Cullen. I trust you.”

He let out a slow breath and relented. “Hold your hair up.” Cullen removed the needle from the kit and held it in the candle's flame for a bit before threading it. “You're certain?”

“Cullen.”

“Very well,” he sighed and brought the curved needle to Ebrisa's scalp. “Steel yourself, this will hurt.” Ebrisa squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to keep from crying out as Cullen carefully sutured her wound. It truly wasn't a large gash, no more than an inch, but with each pierce of the needle Cullen felt the mage wince slightly. It was a painful process, but he knew that if he rushed and did a poor job the Herald would be worse off than if he'd left it alone entirely. “And done.” He cut the thread with a knife and cleaned the wound again. Cullen took the kit and set it away, letting out a breath. He'd prefer to not have to do that again any time soon.

“Thank you.” The mage dropped her hair over the throbbing area and sat further back in the chair. “You can continue your work. I'll be quiet.”

“This will keep till morning.” Cullen waved at the papers. “Besides, wouldn't watching me work put you to sleep? I thought we were trying to avoid that.”

“Well, you look so focused and serious when you work.” Ebrisa looked down at her sleeve and played with the hem, blushing. “It's endearing.”

The commander rubbed his neck and turned to a shelf, hiding his own tinted cheeks. “Well it may put me to sleep. How about cards? I know Varric has invited you to a game or two of Wicked Grace.”

Ebrisa stilled, remembering the conversation she overheard in Haven. “I actually don't know how to play.”

“Then our task is clear.” Cullen pulled another chair over to the mage and began shuffling as he sat. “You begin with five cards and play or discard them as you go. Your goal is to get as many of a matching suite as you can before the Angel of Death card shows up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Western Approach had been harrowing. Not because of the heat or venomous creatures, but for the horrific display by the Grey Wardens and a servant of Corypheus. Sacrificing comrades to bind demons? Trying to erect an army to destroy the slumbering Old Gods in the Deep Roads? All because of a false Calling. Ebrisa could understand their desire to leave the world as safe a place as possible, but somewhere along the line the fear of failure took over reason and the Grey Wardens turned down a dark path.

The Venatori there, Erimond, revealed much of his master's scheme, thinking he had the upper hand. He'd singled out Ebrisa with a spell taught to him by Corypheus, agitating the Anchor and bringing her to her knees in pain. She held the aching hand towards the Venatori, squeezing it firmly and willing it to stop, then she felt it. It was brief and possibly undetected by the others, but a sliver of a tear opened above Erimond and snapped his own spell back at him. He fell to the ground, winded and surprised, before scrambling to his feet and running away. The Herald stayed on the ground, staring at the spot in the empty air and hoping she had only imagined it. The Venatori's spell had simply gone wrong. As the others fought with the possessed Wardens and bound demons, Ebrisa tried to convince herself she hadn't split the Veil.

While trying to find the wounded Erimond, they stumbled on a Venatori excavation site overtaken by darkspawn. Ebrisa was the only one in the group to have never encountered the creatures before and she was mortified at seeing them. The group was careful while fighting, but Iron Bull was a bit overzealous with his attacks, sending the blighted blood in wide arcs. It wasn't until Ebrisa cried out in surprise and he turned see what happened that he realized his mistake. The mage stood behind him, cast off splattered on her face as she leaned forward and spit out the black liquid on the sand. She wiped her mouth and straightened, keeping an eye closed as she pulled out a handkerchief to clean the rest of her face.

“Shit.” Bull mumbled as he stared. “Little lady, you okay?”

Ebrisa wiped off the darkspawn blood and slowly blinked. “I think so. Doesn't seem like I got any in my eye.”

The qunari looked to the dark spots in the sand at her feet. “But it did get in your mouth.”

“A little, but I didn't swallow.” She went to tuck the stained fabric back in her pocket, but Bull smacked it from her hand.

“That's corrupted now. It stays.” He pulled a small flask from his belt and twisted off the cap. “Here. Swish some in your mouth and spit it out. Now.”

“Ser Iron Bull, I don't-” The mage was cut off as her bodyguard shoved the flask to her lips and poured a foul liquid past them. She pulled a face and pushed away.

“Swish!” He ordered and shook her shoulder until she complied. “Spit!” The qunari pushed her down and made sure she didn't swallow a single drop. When she stood back up and wiped at her mouth again, eyes full of confusion, he let out a sigh. “Sorry about that, little lady. Sorry about all of that. I should have been more aware of my surroundings...”

“What was that?” Ebrisa coughed, feeling a terrible burning on her tongue.

“Maraas-lok, and it's sad to see it on the ground. Better it than you.” Bull went to recap his flask, but growled in annoyance and tossed it to the ground. “Shit, again.”

“I don't understand.” The mage tried to cool the burn with water, but Bull smacked the canteen from her hands. “Ser Iron Bull!”

“You shouldn't swallow anything for a little while, just to be on the safe side.” He took her arm and lead her down the hall to rejoin the others. “Guess you don't know, but darkspawn blood is corrupted. You get it in you, you get the blight sickness, you die or turn into something... not ladylike.” He looked back at her, concerned and remorseful. “The alcohol helped, maybe. Hopefully.”

They cleared the ruin and sealed the deep roads entrance but found no trace of Erimond, so Bethany and Harding stayed in the desert longer to track him down and find out just where all the Warden's had been hiding. On the way back, Iron Bull kept a close eye on the Herald for any sign of change and eventually asked Blackwall for his opinion.

“Say, you've seen lots of the Blight sickness in your career, right?” The qunari began slowly after the group made camp for the night. “About how long does it take to start seeing symptoms?”

“Usually within the first few days.” The warden looked up from sharpening his sword. “Did fighting those darkspawn make you nervous?”

“Me? Nervous about fighting? Ha!” Iron Bull slapped the man on the back. “No, I'm good, its just that, hypothetically, if someone got darkspawn blood in their mouth, how likely are they to get sick?”

“If its inside them, they're pretty much guaranteed to fall victim.” Blackwall sighed.

Bull glanced over at the blonde mage across the camp as she fed the mounts. “Even if she spit it out and rinsed with alcohol?”

“She?” Blackwall followed the qunari's gaze and dropped the whetstone. “Bull, please tell me that hypothetical situation was just hypothetical.”

“I didn't realize she was behind me and I make big swings, so...” Bull scratched his chin and looked away. “She seems to be okay, but I thought I'd ask an expert.”

“If my lady becomes corrupted, there will be nothing we can do to help her.” Blackwall shook his head. “With all of this chaos going on with the wardens, they wouldn't be able to save her.”

“You mean we, don't you?” The qunari corrected.

Blackwall stiffened. “Yes, well, I don't carry the supplies for the Joining with me. I recruited, I didn't initiate.”

Chapter Text

The younger Hawke sister was back in Skyhold now and trying to distract herself from the destruction of her order with the company of friends. She invited practically everyone to the tavern and had the drinking well underway before long. “Why is this called The Herald's Rest when she's never here?” She tapped her knuckles against the placard and laughed. “What about... The Inquisitor’s Dispensary of Alcoholic Beverages?”

“Well gee, I do see your point, Bethany.” Varric nodded thoughtfully. “That really rolls off the tongue.”

“Thank you. We'll call it IDAB for short.” The warden sat back down. “Lets play something. Any one got cards? I'm itching for some fun.”

“But of course,” Varric pulled out a deck and smirked.

“Uh uh, Isabela taught you to shuffle, and by shuffle I mean pocket cards.” Bethany snatched the deck from his hands. “We need an honorable sort to deal. Cullen? If you would.”

The commander and Hawke sat down at the table with their drinks. “Gladly.”

“It's Wicked Grace,” Varric protested. “You're supposed to cheat.”

“Yeah, but you aren't supposed to get caught.” Hawke smirked. “Who's playing?” She called out to the room. “All are welcome, if you think you stand a chance.”

Ebrisa let the final note of the hymn hang in the air and slowly opened her eyes, the candle extinguished. Despite Iron Bull's concern, she felt no sickness or change in her body from the darkspawn blood beyond feeling hotter than usual the first few days. It passed, like a small bought of the flu, and she quickly returned to normal. Maybe that qunari alcohol destroyed any trace from her mouth. It surely destroyed her taste buds for several days and she couldn't imagine what the vile drink did to those who actually drank it. Having completed her nightly prayers, she stood up and began to undo her hair and ready for sleep.

“I like your singing. Sweet, soft, soothing.” Cole picked at the splinters of the rafter's beam. “Do you know others?”

“There are a few non-Chantry songs I know, but you would be better off listening to Mistress Maryden sing.” She looked up at Cole and motioned for him to come down. Ebrisa had given him permission to enter her room only if she was there and dressed. She began to wonder if she should tell Solas about the boy. He was surely some kind of spirit and could use another friend.

“I can't hear Maryden tonight. Everyone is so noisy. I came for your quiet, but maybe you should go be loud.”

Ebrisa tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Cole sat on her bed, looking ashamed. “You spend time with me. I'm a secret. You smile and it makes me smile, but when you hurt, I can't help. You need friends who aren't secret too.” The mage smiled sadly at him. “There! I see a quiet hurt, but I can't help.”

“Ser Cole, I can't just invade their gathering.”

“But everyone is there! So many faces who want to see your smiling face...” Cole went to the door and opened it. “Inquisitor said all are welcome. They are playing Wicked Grace.”

Ebrisa chewed her lip in thought. “All right then, Ser Cole, lets go lose at cards. Just let me change out of my nightdress first.”

“You're going down, Varric. I can feel it,” Bethany elbowed Cullen with a wink. “We got this, team mate.”

“Bethany, there are no teams in Wicked Grace,” Cullen sighed.

“There are in Warden rules.” She turned to Blackwall. “Back me up on this.”

“I'm afraid I was out in the field too much to learn any variations,” the recruiter chuckled. “And I don't believe any one agreed to your terms.”

“Really? Then why has Cullen been checking my cards?”

“Excuse me, dear woman, but I was not looking at your cards.” Cullen held his own hand closer. “The very idea.”

“So then it was my breasts you were spying? Oh, Commander, at least wait until we're alone.”

Before Cullen could defend himself, Hawke leaned forward on the table. “Bethany, when you put them right in our faces like that its hard to spy anything else.”

The table laughed and Bethany smirked at her sister. “I didn't hear anyone complaining.”

Ebrisa walked in nervously, knots twisting in her stomach as people turned to stare at her. This was a bad idea. How did she let Cole talk her into this? She approached the Inquisitor's table timidly, frantically twisting the fringe of her shawl as the table laughed at Sera's failed attempt to switch her empty mug with Varric's full one.

“Well look who's here!” Bull called out, seeing the Herald first and noting her healthy appearance. “Guess the tavern keeps it's name after all.”

The rest of the table turned to look and Ebrisa held the blue shawl closer against her elbows as they gawked. Instead of her normal, modest clothing, she had changed into a green dress with a wide neckline, exposing her neck and shoulders with just the slightest bit of cleavage. This was a bad idea. She shouldn't have done this. Why did she come?

“Holy Andraste's tits, the Herald of Andraste has nice tits!” Sera laughed out drunkenly and fell out of her chair.

The Herald raised her shawl to cover her chest. “Serrah Sera...”

Blackwall kicked the still laughing elf as he nodded at the mage. “You look lovely tonight, my lady.”

Ebrisa blushed slightly and looked down. “I... thank you, Ser Blackwall.”

Hawke glanced between the two before taking a long swig of her ale.

“See now, Bethany? That's how you do it. Just a subtle hint to make people want to see more. There's no allure if you simply flaunt them all the time.” Dorian grinned at the warden mage before turning to the Herald. “Did you come to play? I think it's a little late to deal you in.”

“Oh, I can wait. Cullen only taught me to play the other night.” She turned to the commander and smiled nervously.

Cullen was staring intently at his cards, trying to hide his blushing face from the table. Ebrisa already looked lovely when she walked up to them, exposing the graceful curve of her neck, but when she adjusted her shawl it covered the top of her dress and created the illusion that she wasn't wearing anything beneath the blue wool. He tried to focus on the game, but found it difficult with her standing at the end of the table. Maker, how much did he drink?

Iron Bull drew a card and growled. “Well, looks like you don't have to wait long.” He tossed the card to the table. “Lets see those hands. The Angel of Death arrives.”

The rest of the table revealed their cards and Bethany shot up to her feet. “Yes, we won!”

“No dear, I did.” Dorian smirked as he laid out his nearly complete suite.

“Well, our team still beat Varric, so we win against Varric! Victory kiss!” Bethany turned to Cullen and kissed him right on the lips, shocking the entire group and watching the Herald as she did so.

Ebrisa stared from the end of the table, her face pale and mouth open slightly as all air seemed to leave her. Seeing the kiss was like being hit with a cleansing wave. Her body was numb and weak, yet wracked with pain at the same time and she felt disconnected from everything. She took several steps back and knocked over a chair before turning and running out of the tavern.

Cullen managed to collect himself and pushed the warden mage off. “Bethany, what are you doing?!” He glared, blushing despite himself.

“Sunshine...” Varric jumped from his seat and out the door.

“Where is he going?” Bethany asked as she plopped back down and reached for her mug. “I'm right here.”

Ebrisa ran harder than she had in her life, vision blurred and dark. She had to get as far away as she could. Had to leave it behind. Her lungs ached for air, but it paled against the ache in her heart. She was tugged back suddenly, her shawl snagged on a branch, and tumbled to the ground as it tore free. Ebrisa frantically examined the garment and her body felt heavy. “Oh no... its ripped...” The shawl Cullen had given her to hide her armor's Chantry mimicry was torn. She held it to her face and cried heavily, releasing everything she had.

Varric bent forward and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He had seen her eyes widen and timid smile fade as Bethany kissed Cullen and the very moment her heart broke played in slow motion in his mind. Her body went limp and her eyes filled with such hurt and disbelief that the dwarf didn't think she would ever move. But she did, and he could plainly make out the shining tears forming the split second before she fled.

He stood back up and looked around. Where in the world was he? Varric heard a quiet, shuddering breath and followed it through the bushes to find Ebrisa curled into herself. Her skirt was dirty and hair a mess from running as she sat in the grove and wept into her shawl. He sighed in relief and approached the mage.

“You move pretty fast in a dress, I'll give you that.” He tried to smile as he sat beside her. Ebrisa's crying quietened, but she didn't look up. “I know what that looked like, but Bethany didn't mean anything by it. She was drunk and excited and those don't usually lead to level thinking.” He paused and watched the mage try and hide in herself. “Look, Sunshine-”

“I'm not Sunshine!” Ebrisa shouted suddenly, removing the fabric from her red face. “Bethany is. She's pretty and confident and far more capable in a fight. And she looked right at me when...” Ebrisa closed her eyes and sighed, feeling ridiculous. “She knew you all in Kirkwall, she has a history with you, with Cullen...” She trailed off and fresh, hot tears filled her vision. “I shouldn't have gone to the tavern. Why did I go? It wasn't my place.”

Varric frowned. “Do you know why Bethany got that nickname years ago? It was dark time in Kirkwall and people were so standoffish, but she had a way of getting others to relax. A little ray of sunshine in an otherwise grimy city. She still has a way of putting people at ease – the flirting is a newer tactic - but she's not Sunshine any more.”

Ebrisa looked at him curiously. “Why not?”

Varric smiled. “Why do you think I started calling you Sunshine? I could have stuck with Herald like everyone else.”

“Because... I'm blonde?” Ebrisa had never given it any thought.

He chuckled. “You are indeed, but that has nothing to do with it.” The dwarf pulled out a handkerchief and wiped gently at the mage's cheeks. “When we met, you were this tiny, little wisp of a thing trying to make yourself smaller. You were constantly afraid to offend and had this air of sadness around you. But then you smile and warmth just radiates from you. It doesn't last long, but when its there you just make others smile back. Like sunlight peaking out behind gloomy clouds.”

“But that-”

“Over time,” Varric continued, “people began to look to you for hope, and sweetie, you gave it to them in droves. If anyone was feeling down or needed help, you did everything you could to make things right. People notice things like that. You are a ray of hope and an example to follow in these dark days.” He smiled at the mage and tucked away the damp cloth. “You are Sunshine.”

Ebrisa was overwhelmed. Something she didn't even think about was filled with a deep meaning for Varric. She smiled gently, yet couldn't get it to reach her eyes.

“Nicknames aren't what brought you out here though. Something Bethany did on a whim really affected you. To be honest, I could have done without seeing that kiss too.”

Ebrisa looked down. “Cullen can kiss whomever he wants to.”

“Pretty sure he wasn't a willing participant.” Varric smirked. “But for you to be so upset, I get the feeling you want Cullen to participate with you?”

The Herald blushed and looked straight ahead. “I do have a deep affection for him, stronger than I have ever felt. To see him smile, hear him laugh, fills me with such warmth.”

“So why haven't you told him?”

She shut her eyes. “My feelings don't matter. I know he doesn't think of me the same way. Like a sister, he said...”

“He told you that?” Varric frowned.

“No, he told you.” Ebrisa gently stroked the wool fibers in her lap. “I thought I could be satisfied with that. Hold the small glimpses of his affection and relish in them. But the idea of him showing love to another... it just tears at my heart, and seeing Bethany do something I never can...” She lifted the shawl to her face and teared up again. “I can't push my feelings on him, and I can't keep him from pursuing another. I don't know what to do anymore.”

Varric let out a deep breath. Shit. So she had heard them back in Haven. Not everything, but enough to hurt. “There's something you need to understand about Curly. He holds duty in too high a regard. Like, if Hawke ordered him to give Sera a piggyback ride throughout Skyhold, he'd probably do it. Don't tell Hawke that, or we are liable to hear Sera shouting 'giddy up' real soon.” He paused, hoping for a chuckle. “Anyways, Cullen has a bad habit of putting everything ahead of his own desires. Guess you two are a better match than you thought.” Varric stood up with a groan. “I'll try and help him past that, so how about giving him some time to figure out what he really wants before sealing yourself off, okay?”

Ebrisa nodded. “You aren't going to tell him, are you?”

“And deprive you the chance? Never. Come on now, Sunshine. Lets get back.” Varric looked around as Ebrisa stood up. “Now if we could figure out how to do that...”

“I'll show you. Its not far.” Cole dropped down from a tree, startling the dwarf.

“Who the heck are you?”

“I'm Cole.”

Varric turned to the unphased mage. “He's a spirit, I think.” Ebrisa tried to explain. “He only wants to help those who suffer.”

“Yes.” Cole nodded at Varric. “You helped. Thank you. Herald's hurtings I can't hear.”

“Right, kid. Alliteration aside, how about that way back to Skyhold?”

Chapter Text

The Inquisition had every able-bodied soldier out for the assault on Adamant Fortress. The forces were able to punch a hole in the Grey Warden's defenses long enough for a strike team to slip through, the Inquisitor taking Blackwall, Sera, Solas, and, of course, Bethany with her. It seemed the dark ritual to bind the demon army was about to begin and they had to hurry. Bethany blew Cullen a kiss from the shattered gate before disappearing into the fortress – the commander either didn't care or didn't see.

Ebrisa stood tall and regal in a white gown and small, silverite breastplate, pretending she hadn't seen the exchange either. She was there to inspire the troops and she minded her task with the grace and humility they had come to expect. Ebrisa recited the Chant and smiled and took the hands of the men, squeezing them reassuringly. The forces fought harder when she was with their unit and they soon seized the ramparts and began to press into the fortress after the Inquisitor.

“I'll admit, having you here helps.” Cullen came up beside her, sword and shield in hand and lion helm on. “I'd prefer if you were better armored. Josephine is truly trying my nerves by sending you out here in only that.”

Ebrisa smiled at his concern. “I have my barriers as well, Cullen.”

“Still, it wouldn't hurt to give you a helmet.”

“Covering me up would make my entire purpose here meaningless.” She almost laughed.

Cullen sighed in defeat. “I know, I know.”

The mage gasped suddenly, her hand surging in resonance. “There's a rift opening. A big one.”

The commander narrowed his eyes. “They must be starting the ritual. I'd hoped the Inquisitor would have gotten there by now. Blackwall and Bethany talk them out of it... Damn.”

Ebrisa shuddered as a dark and hungry sensation washed over the mark. “There's something really large on the other side of the rift. The Inquisitor won't be able to stop it.” She turned to Cullen, eyes wide. “I must get to the rift and seal it, quickly!”

Cullen shouted out orders for the troops to refocus and they began to drive a line through the wardens just as Corypheus' dragon pet soared overhead and towards the rift. “Inquisitor...” Ebrisa breathed. She had to get there. Now. “Ser Cole!” She shouted, knowing the boy was slipping around the enemy with his daggers. He appeared beside her, blades freshly stained. “Can you get to the Inquisitor? Can you tell where she is, right now?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

“Take me to her.” Ebrisa pleaded.

“I can not take someone when I move.” Cole shook his head.

“I have to get to her, Ser Cole. I want you to take my hand and not let go, okay? Take my hand and go to the Inquisitor.”

Cole looked down. “Okay, I'll try.”

Ebrisa took a deep breath and looked around the battlefield. She locked eyes with Cullen beneath his helm and smiled brightly before breaking the gaze to face Cole. “Now!” She squeezed her eyes and launched into a Fade-step, letting Cole guide her across Adamant. When she opened them, the archdemon was stalking towards the Inquisitor's party. Ebrisa pulled her hand from Cole as an injured warden attacked the archdemon from beneath, sending it toppling into the walkway, weakening the structure. The monster flew off, but the stones began to give way under Hawke's feet. The mage mustered up the strength and Fade-stepped again, grabbing the Inquisitor as she began to slip. Hawke's eyes widened in shock at seeing the Herald there.

“Ser Cole, catch her!” Ebrisa shouted and swung the Inquisitor around to the stable stones, propelling herself off the edge. Hawke rolled a bit before Cole did as instructed and took hold of her, ensuring her safety. Ebrisa was free falling with the rubble and her comrades, the ground fast approaching.

“Bethany! Blackwall!” Hawke shouted desperately, trying to scramble to the broken walkway, but Cole held her back. “Herald!”

Ebrisa's heart was pounding. There had to be someway to save the others, something she could do! She swung her arms in front of herself, hoping for something, anything! There was a bright flash and then... her fall slowed to nothing, the ground inches from her face. “What?” In an instant gravity reasserted itself and she crashed to the rocky surface.

“What happened? Where did you come from? Where did we come from?” Sera panicked, standing sideways on an outcropping. “Get me down!”

“I believe this is the Fade.” Solas looked around in awe. “The Herald opened a rift. We came through and... survived.”

“Oh, don't say that! Its wrong! Shit fuck damn piss deeeemons!” Sera whined, terrified.

“Where's the Inquisitor?” Blackwall helped Ebrisa to her feet. “My lady, what happened?”

Ebrisa wasn't entirely sure herself. “I got the Inquisitor out of the way. She's safe. I... didn't mean for this, just something to stop the fall.”

This was bad. This was... wrong. They shouldn't be here, walking the Fade like it was nothing. This was wrong! Ebrisa stared at her marked hand, still aching with the strain of ripping open the Veil, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She did it again, but this time the tear was so large, so massive, it collected the entire falling group. How big would it grow next time? What else would it consume? She shook her head furiously and held her clenched hand to her chest. There would not be a next time.

But then... she hadn't meant for there to be a this time.

“Well, this sure beats being crushed by a falling bridge, so its a win in my book.” Bethany eased Sera to the level ground. “This isn't how the Fade usually looks. Is it because we are here physically?” She turned to Ebrisa. “You did this before, right? Is this how it was?”

“I don't remember,” the Herald admitted. Oh, what had she done? How were the others so calm about this? Did they not realize the horrid thing she had forced them into? What punishment would befall Thedas now?

“The Fade reflects the world around it, so we should be close to the rift in the main chamber.” Solas broke his gaze from the Black City in the distance. “We may be able to return to Adamant through it.”

“Better than waiting around and doing nothing,” Bethany sighed. “At least my sister is safe.” She turned to Ebrisa and smiled awkwardly. “Thank you. She's all the family I've got.”

“Of course, Ser Bethany.” The Herald returned the strange smile as she hid her sparking hand behind her back.

They began to move through the rocky dreamscape, Solas musing with a sense of wonder and Sera letting loose a constant stream of swears under her breath. “Calm yourself, child.” Solas spoke softly to the archer. “Hostile emotions only draw the demons more quickly.”

“Sorry, was that supposed to ease her worry or double it?” Bethany patted Sera on the head. “Lets just get to the rift and hope we don't encounter too many demons.”

When the first group of demons did attack, Ebrisa realized she didn't have a staff. In her haste to get to Hawke, she must have left it behind. With the others being purely on the offensive, Ebrisa made it her sole duty to keep Blackwall as protected as possible. He was the only one fighting in close quarters and that put a big target on his back, but the Herald kept barriers on him and protected his flank with occasional walls of flame. Anything more complex than that she feared to mess up.

Blackwall approached her when they finished. “Thank you, my lady.”

Ebrisa smiled sadly and nodded.

“Yes, thank you for finding a way to not be useless in that fight.” Bethany replaced her staff on her back and sighed. “Could have used another hammer back there, but I guess blankets work too.”

“Easy now, Bethy.” Sera said with a laugh, trying in her own way to ease the hostility. “The Herald can get quite scary when she's mad. Well, if she ever gets mad.” The archer turned to Ebrisa. “Can you get mad?”

“I can,” Blackwall warned and the elf looked away innocently. “Let's press on and get out of here already.”

They mounted a steep incline of uneven steps, using the hole in the sky as a guide. At the crest of the stairs stood a figure in Chantry finery, waiting for them. Ebrisa covered her open mouth with her hands and stared in disbelief. “Divine Justinia? How? In Haven I saw... I thought I saw... you died?”

The woman, be she the Divine, a spirit, or a demon smiled and tried to answer their questions. “There is not much time. Please just know I am here to help and be satisfied with that for now.” She turned to the Herald. “Your memories from the Temple of Sacred Ashes were taken by a demon who serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror.” They were in that demon's domain now, and it could sense them. It had constructed the false Calling to control the wardens and devoured their terrified actions.

“It won't get away with this,” Bethany seethed. “The wardens saved me and I will not let this thing destroy them.”

“You will have your chance to strike at him, brave warden,” the Divine assured her. “But before any of you can face him, the Herald must take back what was stolen from her in Haven.” She motioned to the side at small, glowing orbs of light. “These are your memories, Herald. You must be whole to face this demon.”

“Looks like we have other demons to face first.” Blackwall withdrew his blade and launched himself at the approaching wraiths, giving Ebrisa little time to cast anything to assist. They made quick work of the demons, now that they had a rhythm, and the Divine nodded at Ebrisa to touch the orbs. One by one, the mage embraced each piece of herself and heard an echo of the memory. It was slowly coming together in her mind, strings of words that wove into something tangible. She took in the last orb and cried out as her mind was filled with images.

“Given the current tensions, only the Divine can grant the Rite of Tranquility. You'll have to wait for her here.” The sister motioned to a bench and left Ebrisa in the hall, alone.

The mage heard a voice calling for help and rushed to it, bursting open a door. “What's going on here?”

Grey Wardens held the Divine aloft in the air before a lanky monster, torturing Justinia with a strange orb. The Divine smacked the sphere from the creature's hand and Ebrisa dived for it. He would not harm the Divine again! The orb jumped to life in her hand, sparking wildly and racking her body with pain. The creature roared in anger and reached for her, but a devastating blast threw them all back with a blinding light and an earth-shattering boom.

Ebrisa held her head, dazed and reeling at what she'd seen.

“So, your mark did not come from Andraste at all.” Bethany frowned. “It came from that orb Corypheus used in his ritual.”

The Herald turned around to face the others. They had seen it too?

Justinia explained Corypheus' intention with his dark ritual and that Ebrisa's interference thwarted his plan and gave her the Anchor.

“So then, the Maker and Andraste had nothing to do with this. I... wasn't chosen. This was all an accident?” Ebrisa looked at her hands, feeling drained. Just when she had accepted her supposed calling, she was revealed as a fraud. Realization struck her suddenly like a dagger in her chest. “The explosion... it was me.” She stared at her trembling hands in horror. “It was me all along. I-”

“It was the orb Corypheus held,” Solas began. “The Foci-”

“-didn't go off until I touched it! Until I grabbed it with my stupid, unworthy hands.” Ebrisa struggled to breath and fought the wave of nausea rushing over her. Of course. Of course a mage would never be chosen by Andraste! Vile, wicked hands had no place in the Chantry, especially hers... She looked up desperately to the Divine, to beg forgiveness for her arrogance, but she had already left.

“What's the Rite of Tranquility?” Sera asked suddenly.

Ebrisa froze.

“Its a terrible practice abused often by Templars.” Bethany shook her head. “It makes a mage tranquil by tearing away their connection with the Fade completely and removing all emotion. Its painful and kills the person you were. I wouldn't wish it upon any one.”

“Then why was the Herald waiting for it?” Sera folded her arms in confusion. “Most people run from pain.”

Bethany turned slowly to Ebrisa as she too recalled the vision they saw. “You went to the Conclave to become tranquil? The big fancy Herald of Andraste couldn't hack it as a mage outside the Circle and wanted to destroy everything that made her a person?!” She slammed the end of her staff on the ground in rage. “I've seen good, strong mages get made tranquil and it is horrific! It is not a way to run from your problems!”

“Is it more horrific than wardens sacrificing the Divine for a madman?” Solas cut in. “Let us not forget that part of the vision.”

Bethany bristled. “They were obviously under his mind control. They can't be held responsible for that.”

“And yet it would not be the first time wardens have abused their powers,” the elf pushed back.

“Enough, you two,” Blackwall stepped between the mages. “We can all yell at one another after we return to Adamant.”

Bethany huffed and pushed past Solas, continuing down the water logged path.

Sera followed soon after. “Sorry I asked,” she mumble, avoiding looking at Ebrisa.

“At least now we know what sort of demon we are dealing with.” Solas finally spoke. “Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion... every emotion save perhaps desire.” He looked at the blonde mage. “Be weary. The Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve. We need you to seal the rift after our escape to ensure he can't follow.”

“Of course, Master Solas,” Ebrisa replied in a quiet voice.

“Come on now, my lady,” Blackwall said calmly. “We'll loose the hotheads at this rate.”

“I'm not the Herald of Andraste, Ser Blackwall. I am no one's lady.” She kept her eyes low.

“Think what you like, but you will always be my lady.” The grizzled man smiled at her reassuringly and lead her after the others. They walked the winding, uneven path in awkward silence and high tensions.

“Ah, we have a visitor.” A voice boomed from everywhere at once. Wraiths and shades swarmed them and Ebrisa panicked, casting barriers over the divided group, the magic shields tingling with raw energy. Sera squeaked at the sensation and cursed at the demons as she notched an arrow.

“Some foolish little girl comes to steal the fear I so kindly lifted from her shoulders.” The voice laughed wickedly. “You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten.”

They fought off the demons, Bethany working out much of her anger by slamming foes into the ground with her force mage spells. People in the Inquisition were always going on about their Herald and how great she was. She was so pure and perfect, filled with the Maker's light and Andraste's love. They would die for her – many already had – but she was a fake. A coward. A-

Fire blazed to life behind her and Bethany whipped around to strike at the... already dead demon smoking at her feet. She glanced over at the false prophet erecting barriers and setting small walls of fire at the party's flanks. Bethany stiffly turned back to the battle.

“That must have been Nightmare talking just now.” Solas shook his head. “We need to move quickly.”

As they rushed through the Fade and fought off demons, Nightmare boomed overhead, mocking each of them in turn. Blackwall, Sera, and Solas all retorted defiantly. “The little Hawke sister,” the demon cooed. “You spent so much of your life trying to not stand out, but then you went off to save the world and joined the wrong cause. You think you've been replaced? You have.”

“Silence, demon! This is one warden you won't bend!” Bethany shouted to the air.

It laughed slowly. “So much death on your hands. What will they think when they find out what you've done, Bree? What will he think?”

Ebrisa stiffened at the name.

“You are in my domain. She can not protect you here.”

“Who can't? What do you mean?” Ebrisa called out, clearly shaken. Nightmare only laughed.

“Bree?” Sera made a face. “Demon giving out nicknames now?”

“Its the name given to me in the Circle,” Ebrisa explained hesitantly.

“Well that's strange. Why change your name?”

“I thought that was common.” Ebrisa's skirt caught on a rock and she tore it free quickly. “I've never questioned it.”

They turned a corner and stopped abruptly as strange demons rushed towards them with glowing eyes. Blackwall charged at them, knocking several back with his shield as Bethany, Solas, and Sera moved to better positions. Ebrisa stared, horrified as they fought the creatures. Blackwall took a strike to his side and grimaced before stabbing the demon in his blind spot. Up until now, they had always had shielding. Something was wrong. He looked over at Ebrisa, still frozen on the steps, a demon rushing towards her. “My lady!” he shouted, shaking the mage from her daze. She shut her eyes and screamed, pushing her hands out in front of her and sending a massive wall of fire down the steps, barely missing the party and incinerating the in its path demons. Ebrisa fell to her knees, shaking and panting while the others took care of the remaining creatures.

“What the frick was that?” Sera pointed at Ebrisa. “And what was that?” She pointed to a dead demon at her feet.

Solas snapped from his own confusion, unsure how to answer the first question, so he skipped it. “These were little fears, tiny manifestations spewed from the Nightmare itself.”

“And they take the form of spiders, something so many fear.” Bethany reasoned, crossing her arms.

Ebrisa's brow creased. What?

“Didn't see no spiders.” Sera cut in. “Would have taken bloody spiders!”

Solas cleared his throat. “Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearances to unnerve each of us.” Sera was not terribly pleased with that notion.

Ebrisa got up slowly and joined the others, staring at the dead bodies as she passed. “What about you, your ladyship?” Bethany began mockingly. “What did you see? Templars?”

Ebrisa didn't answer.

They pressed on, fighting more fearlings and shades, only this time Ebrisa was less shaken. She was still horrified, but she reigned in her fear so she could at least assist.

“Oh look, its the Divine again!” Sera called down to the others. “Or the spirit, or her spirit, or whatever.”

Justinia directed them to more of the Herald's memories and Ebrisa hesitated. What was there left to see? What else could Nightmare have stolen from her?

“This is a part of you and you will never be complete without it.” Justinia pleaded.

Reluctantly, the mage absorbed the fragments until they burst into her mind.

Ebrisa climbed the steep steps frantically, the Divine standing above her and urging her forward. “Hurry, the demons!” Justinia called out from the top.

The mage turned her head to look once again at the wicked, glowing eyed copies of herself making quick work of the incline. They grinned deviously and clawed at her heels, making feral snarls and hisses in her own voice. Ebrisa reached out to the Divine and finally landed on the top. The women scrambled to the glowing green rip in the air, but the demons had caught up and latched onto the Divine. Ebrisa turned around, desperate to help.

Justinia looked at her serenely as the mimics tightened their twisted grip. “Go.” And then the demons stole her away. The mage made for the steps to follow, but a flash of light cut her off. She squinted against the brightness and saw the shining silhouette of a woman with hair of leaping fire. The figure shook its head and flicked her hand, sending Ebrisa tumbling through the rift.

Ebrisa looked sadly at Justinia. “You're not her.”

“No,” the woman relented.

“Was that you at the end? You pushed me through?”

“That it was not. Now that you are complete, the Nightmare holds nothing over you.” The spirit burst into her glowing form and vanished.

The mage looked down, confused. Perhaps another kind spirit like the one portraying the Divine had added her?

“What we saw chasing you,” Bethany began slowly, “is that what you see the fearlings as now?”

Ebrisa squeezed her hands tightly. “It is.”

“Wait, so the thing you fear the most is you?” Sera pieced together. “That doesn't make a lick of sense. You're no bogeyman, Herald.”

“I'm no Herald either, Serrah Sera.” Ebrisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So now we all know the truth. I'll stand whatever punishment the Inquisitor sees fit once we get back.” The mage moved down the path, dress dirty and torn and resigned to an unknown fate. She would worry about herself once the others were safe.

“That's what you're taking from this?” Blackwall hurried after her. “All we've seen and you're ready for the gallows?”

“All we've seen and you don't want to strike me down where I stand?” Ebrisa turned to him in disbelief. “Ser Blackwall, I tore a hole in the Fade. I caused the explosion at the Conclave. I let the Divine sacrifice herself for me. Me!” Her eyes filled with hot tears. “These aren't my only crimes. In the Circle... and after I...” She shook her head and let out a shuddering breath. “I am not your lady, Ser Blackwall. I am gravely undeserving of that respect.” She moved ahead and would say nothing more.

They pressed forward through the heart of Nightmare's domain, the demon taunting and gloating, but ultimately giving away a crucial flaw in his plan. All the demon's in Corypheus' precious army were bound to Nightmare. The aiding spirit met up with them near his lair. “You must get through the rift, Herald, and slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons... and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

“Why are you helping us?” Bethany looked up quizzically at the spirit.

“I believe it is what Justinia would have wanted.” The spirit paused at the entrance. A massive creature stood between them and the tear in the Veil. “Please tell Leliana I'm sorry. I failed you too.” With that, the spirit soared through the air and slammed into the creature, the both of them flying off. It left behind an aspect of itself and the smaller demon gave them no quarter.

Ebrisa worked twice as hard supporting the others from the demon now that they were so close. The demon called forth waves of fearlings and the mage tried her best to ignore the sight of her comrades killing her on all sides. It wasn't what they saw. It was only an illusion.

“So you do fear death after all, Bree,” the demon laughed. “I would think you would be comfortable with it by now. How many lives have you singed away?”

“Shut your demony face!” Sera yelled, loosing a round of arrows at the beast.

“Is little Sera looking out for someone other than herself?”

“Lil' Sera just wants you to eat it!” The elf tossed a grenade and lept away, coating the demon in a brief burst of flame.

It was exhausting, but they worn the demon down enough for Blackwall to rush it and slice its grotesque head clean off, dropping it to the ground in a dead heap.

“The rift,” Solas panted. “Quickly!” He was the first one out. Sera hesitated, unsure of the magic, so Blackwall grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her through behind him. Ebrisa made for the tear, but noticed Bethany groaning on the ground. She turned back and helped the warden to her feet.

“Are you alright?”

Bethany held her head. “Just get me out of the damn Fade.” They moved for the rift as quickly as possible, but were too late. The Nightmare, the real Nightmare, jumped down before them and screeched loudly. “Leave me,” Bethany said quickly. Ebrisa stared at her in surprise. “I'll slow you down. You need to close that rift.”

“I can't leave you here,” Ebrisa immediately refused. “You're the Inquisitor's only family! Master Varric and Cullen would...” She trailed off. The demon raised up to strike them and Ebrisa quickly threw Bethany under the space beneath its legs, the warden rolling to a stop on the other side.

“What are you doing?!” Bethany screamed, angry and baffled.

“Get to the rift while I distract it!” Ebrisa called out. “I'll look for another opening. Go!”

The warden scrambled to her feet and over to the green light, constantly checking behind her.

“You want my fear? I have plenty to spare.” Ebrisa goaded the demon.

“Hurry up!” Bethany shouted, refusing to leave alone.

Ebrisa looked up at her and smiled warmly. “Take care of Cullen for me.”

“What? Why?” Bethany stilled as she felt the tingling sensation of a barrier coat her. What was going on? She looked at the still smiling Herald, utterly confused. Ebrisa shot out her hand and hit Bethany in the chest with a strong blast of fire, sending her tumbling through the rift.

The warden hit the stone floor with a thud, the fire flickering away harmlessly and dissipating in the air. She was out of the Fade... Her eyes widened as she turned back to the rift. “You sneaky bitch! Don't you dare!”

The rift slammed shut, pulling the lingering demons away with it. She sat on the floor, speechless. Tears slid soundlessly down her face as the soldiers cheered for the defeated demons and freed mages.

“Bethany! Thank the Maker!” Hawke ran to her sister and pulled her close. “I was out here fighting demons and you were lollygagging in the Fade. I swear...”

“Where is she?” Cole looked at Bethany. “No. Alone. No...” The young man hunched down and hid beneath his hat.

Hawke looked around slowly. “Bethany? Where is the Herald?”

The warden pointed a shaking finger to where the rift once glowed. “She came back for me... and then... the Nightmare... she pushed me through.”

A hush fell over the soldiers.

“Gone. Alone. No.” Cole mumbled as he rocked slowly. “Not fair.”

Bethany buried her face in the Inquisitor's chest. “She came back for me! She was smiling! Oh, sis...” she sobbed loudly, overwhelmed with regret. Hawke held her sister tightly and stared in disbelief at the empty space in the air.

Chapter Text

The Nightmare screeched in rage as Ebrisa slammed the rift closed. “You foolish little girl!” It's voice boomed without moving its hideous mouth. “You trap yourself in here. There is no escape!”

“I am aware of that,” the mage spat. “I gladly give my life to rid Thedas of your army.”

The demon reared back to strike her down and Ebrisa braced for impact. Instead of being impaled by the massive claws, a rope of webbing latched onto her marked hand. “Your life? Oh, no. That would be too quick.” It laughed and caught her other hand. The mage struggled to break free as the webbing pulled her forward. Another rope at her waist, then her right foot, then her neck.

“I will drain you of all those delicious fears you have. You will loose yourself and become nothing. You wanted to be tranquil, didn't you? An empty little body with no memories or purpose.” Nightmare began to wrap the mage, like a spider preserving a fly. “What shall I take first? You have so many. Fear of rejection, betrayal... oh, fear of acceptance? That's an interesting one.”

Ebrisa stayed silent and stopped resisting. She did all she could to atone for her crimes, right? Had the good she'd done outweighed the bad? She killed thousands at the Conclave, but was stopping this demon army enough to make up for that? How would the truth of Haven affect the Inquisition? Surely they would loose some credibility for putting up a false herald and more for not sending her to trial. Would they be dragged down with her?

No. Leliana and Josephine would keep her involvement hidden. The Inquisitor would not be dirtied by Ebrisa's presence. But what must they all think of her? Cullen would be horrified, disgusted even...

“Working on that fear of rejection, are you?” Nightmare let out a throaty chuckle. “How about I visit their dreams and tell you just how they took the news?”

“But you're banished here!” Ebrisa shouted, struggling again. “You can't get to them!”

“You locked me in the Fade, foolish girl. I can not terrorize through your world, but when they come to mine?” Nightmare raised the ensnare mage to his eyes. “I'll just use their connection with you as a guide and seep through their dreams. Twisting it and taking it. Who will be first? The Inquisitor?” The demon paused, thinking better of it. “No, let us torture your precious commander.” It cackled at the wave of fear the seeped from Ebrisa. “Yes, you fear for his safety and I'll use that to make him a shell of a man.”

Ebrisa stopped struggling and stared into the many eyes of the beast. “You will not,” she growled, anger rising inside her. “You will not!” She kicked out with her left foot, bursting one of the demon's eyes with her boot. Nightmare screeched and released her, the mage landing on its head and stomped out another eye. “You will not touch him!” Ebrisa screamed, white hot fire erupting from her hands, destroying the webbing that bound her and burning the Nightmare's face. It managed to shake her off and she fell to the rocky ground, but quickly climbed back to her feet and stared up at the demon defiantly.

“You bitch! You think you can get away with this?”

“You may be very old and very strong, fear monster,” Ebrisa spat, “but you can not stop an emotion this powerful.” She rushed at its legs and slid underneath, her skirts pillowing around her. Crying out once again, Ebrisa slammed her hands against the demon's underbelly and released a wave of inferno.

Nightmare jumped away from the pain, staring at the seething mage in disbelief. “Your anger gives you this strength? Rage burns hot, but quickly fades. You can not keep this up.”

She looked up slowly. “It is not just my anger or my desire to protect him, it is my love.” She took a step forward and the demon leaned away. “You will not harm him.” Another step.

The Nightmare called forth a group of terror demons.

“You will not!” The mage began to rush at the creature again, trailing flame behind her.

“Get her out of my domain!” It bellowed, voice shaking the ground. The terrors swarmed Ebrisa and grabbed hold, pulling her through the rocks and then tossing her from a cliff at the edge of Nightmare's lands.

The mage gasped in surprise as she fell through the air, the floating mass where she'd seen the false Divine slipping away into a hazy green. The Fade reflected the world around it, but was also infinite. Pieces floated and connected, warping as needed. It was chaotic, but strangely beautiful. Was this what other mages saw as they slept?

Ebrisa twisted in the air and tied to think of a way to stop her decent. She stretched out a hand and barely brushed a passing boulder, but she did slow ever so slightly. She searched out other bits of debris and began to propel herself along by sweeping her hands against the floating obstacles. She was aiming for what looked to be a mountain not too far off. Just anything solid, really. If she could make any contact with any part of it at a slow enough rate, then perhaps she could actually land.

Carefully, delicately, she caught hold of the edge of a peak and pulled herself down to it. She dropped suddenly to the mountain and landed on her back. She groaned in pain, but was thankful to not be spinning anymore. The mage stood up slowly, testing her stability. The immediate problem solved, Ebrisa tried to think of a way out. If the mark had gotten her inhere, then maybe it could get her out, but how much damage would she cause by ripping open the Veil from this side? Not to mention she had no idea where she was in relation to the real world. What if she came out under an ocean or in the middle of the air? She couldn't try to get out until she knew it was safe on the other side.

Cullen.

Skyhold.

She had to get to Skyhold. From Adamant to home was quite the journey and to do it on foot in the Fade? It was possible, but how would she find her way? “Which direction is it?” With no sun or stars for navigation, she was utterly lost. “I need guidance. Andraste, someone, please.” She sunk to the ground, not wanting to move the wrong way.

A figured appeared before her, glowing and featureless, but definitely feminine. Dancing hair of flame floated around her and she beckoned with her hand. Ebrisa stared at the figure and slowly rose to her feet. “You... you were at the temple.” The figure nodded. “Are...” the mage's mouth went dry. “Are you Andraste?” The woman beckoned again and Ebrisa moved towards her. It flittered further away and waved the mage over. “Are you leading me to Skyhold?” It nodded and Ebrisa smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the disheartened forces returned to Skyhold, the news of the Herald's sacrifice had already set in. Leliana worked hard to keep that information from spreading outside the organization, fearing that the soldiers would not have the will to stop an assault by Corypheus should he learn.

Josephine had taken it incredibly hard, crying for days and shredding the letters regarding Ebrisa's identity. “She was our Herald,” the Antivan sobbed. “She never gave us a reason to doubt her.”

Everyone in the inner circle was saddened, but Varric spent a good deal of time being furious with Bethany. “You shouldn't have left her! How could you not know she would stay? It should have been you!” So many things he shouted in anger at the warden that he wished he could take back. In his heart, he knew that no one could have convinced Ebrisa to trade places.

The keep was still with sadness for weeks. Solas and Dorian kept their minds occupied by trying to work out how to close rifts on their own. They'd seen Grey Warden mages force them open further, so there had to be a way without being marked with the Anchor. Cullen was keeping busy too.

When the Inquisitor first told him at Adamant, he was stunned and played the scene of her smiling at him before disappearing with Cole over and over in his mind. His chest felt heavy and empty at the thought that Ebrisa was gone. Not the Herald. Ebrisa. He recovered within a few days and sent out orders for closer patrols on known rifts and scoutings for new ones. Ebrisa was not gone, she couldn't be. He knew that any day he would receive word that she fell out of the Fade, like at the temple, and was on her way home. She would need help when she broke through the Veil and he intended to give it. The troops did as ordered, encouraged by the commander's optimism at first, but as time went on they only pitied his denial.

“She's not gone. She'll come back.” Cullen was often heard saying under his breath. “Don't lose hope. She'll return.”

Cole was beside himself. He was overwhelmed with the people's sorrow, but the only way to ease it was to make them forget the Herald. He couldn't do that. Not ever. The only places he could stand to be were Ebrisa's room, which Cullen kept safely locked, and by the commander's side himself.

Cullen sat at his desk, reading each report carefully for any sign of something amiss, Cole huddled on top a bookshelf. There was a knock on his open door and he looked up.

“Hey, Cullen,” Bethany began softly. “I'm heading out to Weisshaupt now. Gotta report to the big wigs.” She smiled halfheartedly. “I just wanted to say goodbye, and, well, I'm so very sorry.”

“That you're leaving?” Cullen looked back to the papers in his hand. “No, by all means. If a demon of fear can send false Callings, the wardens should get all the details.”

“Cullen...” Bethany shook her head and walked into the room. “I didn't want to leave her. She pushed me through, I had no choice!”

The commander almost chuckled. “Yes, she has a bad habit of running into danger unprepared.”

“She said... the Herald asked me to take care of you.”

Cullen stiffened. Varric had said something similar before.

“She wouldn't want you to carry on like this. You need to accept that she's gone,” the warden pleaded.

“She's not gone. She'll come back.” Cullen responded automatically.

Bethany sighed and walked out of his office. “You can write me, you know, if you ever need me.”

“Thank you, Bethany.” Cullen looked up from his papers and saw the pity on the mage's face. “Goodbye.”

After the attack on Haven, Cullen had given up hope and that nearly cost Ebrisa her life. Not this time. Don't lose hope. She'll return.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa opened her eyes and climbed to her feet. The glowing woman nodded at her and dropped the ring of fire from around them before materializing in the distance. The mage shook her hands and Fade-stepped to the figure. It moved, and she followed. They had been doing this over and over until Ebrisa became exhausted and needed to rest, the figure keeping her safe as she did so. The mage had been resting more and more and not moving nearly as far. The air was getting thinner and her mouth felt dry.

There was no real food or clean water in the Fade that she could use and her physical body was crying out for nourishment. She supposed that made sense, as spirits and demons weren't sustained by those things, and managed to gain some strength from seemingly random lyrium veins. Ebrisa didn't try to ask the woman questions anymore, as it seemed it could not speak itself but it would radiate a comforting aura while she rested and that made the mage feel safe.

They carried on with their magical leap frog across the Fade until Ebrisa collapsed. The figure was at her side in an instant and erected the blazing barrier.

The mage opened her blurry eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position, head pounding. The figure dropped the barrier, but stayed in place. Ebrisa looked up at the woman with fire hair and tried to smile. She groaned painfully as she stood on wobbly legs. “Let's go.” The figure shook its head. “I'm fine. Let's keep moving.” Reluctantly, the figure flittered off, but not very far, giving Ebrisa a much shorter distance to move. She made it halfway and fell down, panting hard. The glowing woman came to her side and went to place the barrier. “No, its okay.” Ebrisa climbed back up and wiped the dirt from her face. “Please, continue.” The figure nodded, but instead of floating away, it slowly drifted before Ebrisa. The mage sighed tiredly and walked behind her guide.

~~~~~~~~

“Blackwall?” Hawke walked quietly into the workshop. “I've been meaning to ask you something. I just wanted more time to...”

He looked up from his mindless whittling. “Yes, Inquisitor?”

The woman twisted the end of her hair. “In your report from the Fade... the way you talked about the Herald...” She sighed and shook her head. “I got the feeling that you...did you love her?”

Blackwall pocketed his knife and turned the chunk of wood over in his hand. “I think, in my own way, I did. Perhaps if she knew people cared for her, she wouldn't have been so quick to hate herself.”

“I see.” Hawke looked down at her feet. “And those memories of Haven you saw? After Justinia was pulled away, a spirit showed up?”

The warden stood up and set the carving of nothing on the work bench. “My lady tried to chase after the Divine, but a woman of light and fire stopped her.”

“Do you really think that was her?” Hawke whispered. “That it really was Andraste behind her all along?”

“I'd like to think so, yes.” He regarded the suddenly fragile looking woman before him.

“Do you think...” Hawke swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think Andraste took the Herald to the Maker's side before that demon hurt her too badly?” She wiped at her eyes before the tears had a chance to fall. “I mean, if she came so quickly before, than Andraste must have kept the Herald from suffering in the end, right? The Herald saved me from falling, saved Bethany from dying, saved everyone from...”

Blackwall pulled Hawke into a comforting hug and stroked her hair. “I'm sure my lady's at peace knowing we're all safe.”

The Inquisitor gripped him tightly as she began to shed silent tears. “She was my lady too.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa was shaken awake furiously and she weakly lifted her head, but dropped it solidly back to the rocky ground. She was still so tired... Again, she was shaken and slowly climbed to her hands and knees. “Have I rested too long?” She asked wearily, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “It only felt like a moment.”

The figure pointed to a familiar silhouette in the hazy distance and Ebrisa gasped in recognition, shooting up to her feet. She immediately wobbled, but caught herself. “Skyhold.” It was so close. She was almost there. So close! She would have cried, had there been any water in her body to weep with.

The two pressed on, Ebrisa feeling renewed, even managing a few Fade-steps as they crossed the mountain pass. The fortress stood proudly before them and Ebrisa panted happily as she walked with wobbly legs through the gates. The figure lead her up the familiar steps and to the rotunda. It pointed at the ghostly image of a slumbering Solas on his couch, but Ebrisa continued on through another door. The figure appeared before her again and urged her back, but the mage stumbled forward into Cullen's office.

A hazy version of the commander slumped on his desk, having fallen asleep working once again. Ebrisa approached him slowly, taking in every detail of his face. She reached out to touch him, but met with a barrier. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she pressed harder against the invisible as she slumped to the floor. The glowing woman pointed back to Solas, but Ebrisa looked up at her with pleading, urgent eyes. The figure shook its head.

“Please. I need him to know I'm here.”

The figure looked away for a moment before nodding and reaching out to Cullen, slipping through effortlessly.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Ebrisa. Draw a card.” Cullen nodded towards the deck and the mage smiled sheepishly.

“Can't I skip?” She sounded hopeful.

“Sure, Sunshine,” Varric snickered. “Of course that doesn't help with the bluffing. Skipping usually means you have an amazing hand or you don't want to pull the Angel of Death card and be stuck with your terrible one.”

“Yes, neither put you in a good gambling light.” Dorian shook his head.

Ebrisa leaned over to Cullen and whispered. “I want more of the same suite or more suites?”

Cullen chuckled. “Matching suites.”

“Oh,” she hide behind her cards. “Maybe I will draw.”

The table laughed, Cullen closing his eyes to avoid the embarrassed pout the mage had. He stopped laughing when he could only hear his own voice, opening his eyes and finding himself and Ebrisa sitting alone in the empty tavern. “What's going on?”

“You were not my first choice, but she was insistent.” Ebrisa dropped the cards and stared straight ahead.

“Ebrisa? Are you alright?”

“She is not,” the mage said flatly.

Cullen jumped to his feet and reached for his blade. He couldn't draw on Ebrisa, but he would defend himself if need be. “What have you done with her?”

The mage sighed and shook her head. “This is why I tried to talk with the elf.” She stood and turned to Cullen, face neutral. “Ebrisa is here, but the Fade has weakened her considerably. She is not meant to dwell in it physically.”

Realization hit Cullen hard in the gut, lifting the crushing weight that had taken hold there. “She is alive! I knew it!” His face washed with relief. “Why hasn't she come through? Why are you here instead of her?”

“As I said, she is weak. The Veil is too strong here. She needs a beacon to guide her back. A single thing she can focus on.” The false Ebrisa turned her head away. “It would seem that thing is her love for you, templar.”

Cullen froze. “Her what?”

“Emotions are powerful things in the Fade. It gave her the strength to fight back the Nightmare and the resolve to traverse the Fade here, but her body can take the strain no longer.” The woman looked Cullen dead in the eyes. “She hasn't much time. You must get the elf to weaken the Veil on your side. She will be drawn to you. Hurry.” Ebrisa burst into light and flame.

~~~~~~~~

Cullen shot up in his chair, knocking papers to the floor, his heart pounding and his head reeling as he recalled the dream. He had never had one like that before, but was it a dream? What if it was real?

Cole appeared in the room suddenly, darting around frantically. “Here. Felt her fading.”

Cullen's eyes widened. “Cole, you can feel Ebrisa?”

“Yes, its small, but here.” The spirit turned to Cullen. “She's here.”

That was all Cullen needed. He burst into the rotunda, jostling Solas awake with the noise. “Solas, Ebrisa is here! We need to weaken the Veil for her!”

“Well good morning to you as well, Commander.” The elf rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked out the door to the twilight. “Ah. It is not yet morning.”

“Solas, we must hurry. She's very weak.” Cullen continued urgently.

The elf sighed and stood up. “Commander, your dedication is truly admirable, but this has gone on long enough.”

Cole phased in before Solas pleadingly. “No, she is here! You must help!”

After Adamant, Solas had come to learn of the boy and his nature. He was silent for a moment and thought carefully. “Bring Dorian and Vivienne to the lower yard. I shall prepare.”

By the time Cole brought Dorian and Cullen practically dragged Vivienne down the steps the sky was beginning to lighten. “So, I hear we are weakening the Veil. For science?” Dorian ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look presentable.

“It is a foolish idea to punch a hole for demons in our living room,” Vivienne somehow managed to look as elegant as usual, even in her dressing gown. “But the commander was very insistent.”

“It appears the Herald yet lives and has made it to Skyhold,” Solas began. He darted his eyes to Cullen quickly. “A spirit came to myself and Commander Cullen asking for help in her return. These wards will only weaken the Veil temporarily, so others will not be able to follow.”

“You can't be serious,” Vivienne sighed. “Commander, dear, you must accept it.”

“I believe the spirit tells the truth,” Solas cut it. “It will not take much time, but I will need your assistance, Madame Vivienne.”

The enchanter looked down, almost sadly. “I do owe her memory at least this. Very well, Solas, what so we do?”

The mages took up positions around the detailed glyph drawn on the ground and knelt down, holding the tips of their staffs together. Solas recited a low string of ancient elven and the drawing sparked to life, the air above them distorting and crackling.

“How long do we do this?” Dorian grunted against the strain.

“Until something comes through or you pass out,” Solas snapped.

“Goodie.”

~~~~~~~~~

Cullen had vanished. Ebrisa was looking right at him sleeping peacefully, and then he was gone. She stood and looked for him frantically - she could not lose him after finally seeing him again! She moved through Skyhold, searching, but finding no trace. The devastated mage stood on the main steps landing and felt alone. She was home, but leagues away at the same time. How was she to get out? She hadn't been able to talk to anyone. Why couldn't she reach Cullen? She just wanted to touch him for a moment...

Cullen.

Her eyes widened suddenly and her heart pounded. She could feel him close by.

So close.

“Ebrisa!”

She gasped at the sound of his voice from below and jumped off the steps towards of it, her hand sparking to life.

~~~~~~~~~~

People began to gather around the mages and commander, murmuring to one another as they tried to figure out what was going on. Solas had been holding the spell for a while and began to weaken, the crackling air dying down. Cullen's eyes widened. Not yet!

“Ebrisa!” he shouted as loudly as he could, the onlookers turning to him curiously. The air split with green light and Ebrisa slipped through in what seemed like slow motion. Her hair floated around her and the dingy remnants of her dress fluttered against her as she fell out of the sky, arms outstretched in the dawn's first light. Cullen wasted little time and moved to catch her as she dove into him. They crashed to the ground, his arms wrapped around her protectively.

“Maker's mercy!” Vivienne gasped.

“What she said,” Dorian mumbled.

The people erupted into cries of joy and prayer, falling to their knees in tears.

Ebrisa looked at Cullen wearily, but happily, tears drawing clean lines down her dirty face.

“Welcome home,” Cullen managed to get out through his overwhelming joy. She smiled at him with the last of her strength before dropping her head heavily on his chest, passing out. Cullen wanted to revel in her return, but knew she needed help immediately. He sat up and adjusted the limp mage in his arms, cradling her as he stood. “She needs the healers, now!” He shouted and rushed up the steps, people moving out of his way. Solas followed after them to the infirmary while Vivienne went to tell the Inquisitor what had just happened.

“Her mana is beyond exhausted,” Solas mused, waving a hand over Ebrisa's body on the cot as the healers started rushing inside the room. “Her aura is practically nonexistent. She will need lyrium.”

A cleric pushed past the elf and removed the grimy chest plate from Ebrisa's torso so she could be properly examined. The sister set her ear to the mage's chest and counted slowly. “Her heart beats strangely.”

Another healer wiped the Herald's face and frowned. “She has a fever.”

“She usually runs hotter,” Cullen cut in, refusing to let himself be pushed out.

“This hot?” The sister look at him, concerned.

He place the back of his hand to Ebrisa's forehead and withdrew it almost immediately. “No...”

“She isn't sweating despite the fever,” The second sister continued. “Her body needs water. We must wake her and force drink.”

“Cool her down first,” the older cleric instructed as she gathered water and cloths.

“If I may?” Solas cast a small ice spell in the air, sending twinkling frost down on the patient. He cast another on the bowls of water, which the sisters quickly soaked fabric in and set them on Ebrisa's head and chest. The clerics cleaned the mage with the cold water to bring down her body heat as Adan worked on a few tonics.

“This one sure knows how to make an entrance,” Adan mumbled. “Gotta respect her for that.” He came over with two bottles and set them on the low table, staying out of Solas' way as the elf dropped another burst of frost. “Water on its own won't work. Give her these, slowly. I'll make more.”

The younger sister placed her hands on her patient's forehead and neck, calmly registering her temperature. “Alright.” She picked up an herb from the table and crushed it in her hand under the Herald's nose. The mage shot her eyes open in a panic, looking around frantically.

“Ebrisa, you're alright.” Cullen knelt beside her and gripped her hand. “You're home, but you must do as the healers say.” She nodded slowly, squeezing his hand tightly.

The sister picked up one of the bottles and leaned over. “You need to drink.” She looked at Cullen. “Sit her up a little.” The commander did as instructed and supported Ebrisa as the cleric slowly tilted the bottle into the mage's dry mouth. It was bitter and strangely thick, but it was liquid and greatly appreciated. She emptied the bottles and fell back asleep, but wouldn't drop Cullen's hand.

Solas left them with a chunk of ice to chip away at as they needed and exited the room. He jumped at the size of the crowd awaiting news as he closed the door behind himself. It was as though all of Skyhold was crammed into the yard, staring at him expectantly.

Hawke rushed up to him, her eyes red from crying. “Solas, is it really her? Is she okay?”

He took a breath before smiling slyly. “It would appear we all owe the commander an apology.”

Chapter Text

There was a gentle knock on Ebrisa's door, drawing her attention away from the writing board in her lap. She set it aside carefully and sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Varric opened the door with one hand, holding a tray in the other. “Soups up, Sunshine.” He closed the door with his foot and walked over to the bed confined mage. “I asked if I could bring your lunch and the kitchen staff didn't seem overly displeased about not lugging it all the way here.”

Ebrisa smiled weakly. “Broth again?”

“Oh, 'soups up' is just an expression. You have been upgraded to solid status.” The dwarf set the tray down on her lap and removed the lid. “Tadah!”

It had been an entire day of only the strange water and lyrium, then three on broths and the mage was beginning to hate spoons. “Thank the Maker,” she sighed and eagerly picked up a slice of bread.

“That your report on your Fade-ly exploits you working on there?” Varric motioned to the papers at her side and Ebrisa nodded. “Mind if I take a peek?”

“Oh, go ahead. Its a bit nonsensical at the moment though.” She bite into the crusty bread and made a quiet moan, relishing in having to use her teeth.

“Showing off your first draft?” He chuckled. “Just think of me as your editor. I'll let you know what needs spicing up.” Varric read the papers curiously as Ebrisa slowly ate her meal. The dwarf went back and read it again, waiting for her to finish eating before saying anything. “This first part reads like a confession, Sunshine, and you should know both Blackwall and Solas explained the Conclave was very, very much not your fault.”

Ebrisa opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off.

“They could sense what you were feeling in those visions. You were trying to save the Divine, there was no malice in your actions. Solas even claims the Foci – that's what he said it was – was going to go off regardless. But you grabbed it and that gave us a way to fix the mess that was coming one way or another.” Varric smiled reassuringly. “Want my advice? Start with kicking Bethany out of the Fade. The others have already given us plenty to work with. Well, Sera's report was mostly doodles and curse words, but still.”

“So... no one blames me?”

“Of course not!” The dwarf whacked Ebrisa lightly on the head with her unfinished report. “By the way, is there a page missing? You kind of go from the Nightmare gloating to you kicking his ass. What changed?”

“Well, it was saying it could use my connection with you all to get to you in the Fade. Well, not you, since you don't dream, but he threatened to torture the others.” Ebrisa chose her words carefully and Varric raised a brow.

“I'm sensing an omission here.” He leaned forward. “So, what, your desire to protect the Inquisition gave you super strength?”

Ebrisa's eyes darted to the left towards Cullen's office and she quickly looked down, blushing. “Not quite so broad...”

A slow smile crossed Varric's face. “The fool demon shouldn't have even brought up our commander, let alone threaten him. So your desire to protect? Your anger at the idea? What kicked your power into overdrive?”

The mage's face reddened further. “I can't put it in my report, Master Varric.”

“Why not? A super charged Herald could come in pretty handy,” he laughed.

“Emotions are the strongest in the Fade... and...” She mumbled while focusing intently on the tray in her lap.

“Yeeeeees?” Varric urged her on, trying to hide his knowing grin.

Ebrisa turned to her left, cheeks still flushed. “No emotion is stronger than love...” She sat there for several moments, quietly staring at the door. She sighed and turned to the dwarf. “I can't write that my love for Cullen flooded my body with power and made me forget the very notion that I was in danger myself. I can't put that in my report. He'll read it.”

“I'll admit, confessions of love don't sound quite right in a debriefing.” Varric shrugged. “I'll help you figure out a good way to phrase that, don't worry.” He flipped to another page in the stack and cleared his throat. “So, this glowing woman that lead you here? She looked the same the whole time? It wasn't multiple spirits pulling on your subconscious or anything?”

“I believe it was the same being. She never spoke, but encouraged me to keep going.”

“I see...” Varric set down the papers. “You don't name her, but Blackwall did. He said it had to have been Andraste that stopped you back at the temple. This sounds like the same description... the same being.” The dwarf looked the mage squarely in her eyes. “What do you think?”

Ebrisa had always felt worthless for being a mage. Dirty, vile even. She didn't always have control and hurt a lot of people because of that. It was those feelings of self loathing that drove her to seek out the Divine to become tranquil. That brought her to the Inquisition and all the people here.

“The Maker created all things in this world. The events that lead me to stop Corypheus may have been the Maker's plan all along. The Foci may have tethered me to the Anchor, but the Maker put it in my hand.” She looked at Varric, radiating past the sadness in her eyes. “Yes, I believe it was Andraste.”

The room was still as Varric absorbed her reaction. Those events must not have been very comforting ones. “Alright, Sunshine,” he said at length. “Let's start on that second draft. I'll try and slip some cookies in with your dinner.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa had to sneak past the guards posted at the base of the stairs by cutting through Cullen's empty office, but she was finally out of her stifling room. She had fully recovered days ago, but the healer's refused to give her a clean bill of health or permit her to get out of bed. She pulled the cowl over her head and moved briskly across the walkway, holding her report tightly. She opened the rotunda door as quiet as she could and listened close for voices. Hearing only echoing from the upper levels, she quickly crossed the room and gingerly opened the door to the main hall. Ebrisa peeked around the door and found Varric writing, distracted.

The mage moved silently across the main hall, keeping her head down as she passed the bustling work force. They paid her little notice and she opened the first door to Josephine's office without incident. She stilled at the sound of voices on the other side. She had hoped to turn in her report and scurry back to her room without notice, but she wasn't about to just turn back now. Maybe she could drop it on the ambassador's desk and not be recognized.

“The court's disapproval can be as great a threat as the Venatori,” Josephine could be heard saying through the door. “We must be vigilant, to avert disaster.”

So this was an important discussion. Ebrisa hoped it would keep the room's focus long enough for her to slip in and out. She opened the door quietly, head low, and moved to Josephine's desk. The Inquisitor was asking several questions, annoyance evident in her voice.

“Celene is holding peace talks under the auspices of a Grand Masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there.” Josephine leaned forward in her chair. “Its the perfect place for an assassin to hide.”

“Can't you just send word? Warn the empress?” Hawke groaned, the idea of being surrounded by tittering nobles again not sitting well with her.

“I've sent letters, but there is no way to know if the empress has received them.” Josephine sighed. A quiet woman set a small stack of papers on her desk. “Thank you,” she replied automatically.

The mage went to turn around and leave, feeling accomplished.

“Ebrisa?”

She stilled. Of course he would notice. The mage turned to Cullen, smiling sheepishly. “The sisters said I could leave.”

The commander folded his arms and smirked, amused. “If that were true, which I know it isn't, why are you hiding?”

Ebrisa took off the cowl and laughed nervously. “Its too bright outside?”

“Oh, who cares why she's out, she's out!” Josephine jumped up from her seat and embrace the startled mage. “Oh, it is good to see you with color in your cheeks.” She released the Herald, face suddenly serious. “Do not go running off to the Fade again. My heart can not take the strain of thinking you gone.”

Ebrisa smiled at the Antivan, touched by her concern. “I will try to avoid going back anytime soon, Lady Montilyet. You have my word.”

“What was it like?” Hawke asked. “The Fade, I mean.”

“It was...” The mage looked down and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from trembling. “It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There were so many moments when I didn't think I could make it back, but I...” She glanced at Cullen, meeting his eyes briefly before looking down, blushing. “Its all in my report there.”

“Speaking of beautiful and terrifying,” Hawke sighed and looked at Josephine. “I need to get to that ball.”

“I'll arrange for an invitation, Inquisitor.” Josephine nodded and moved to sit, but her gaze stilled on Ebrisa. “Perhaps the Herald should attend as well.”

The mage's eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah, really?” Hawke waved her hands in the air. “Being stuck in a room of snobby aristocrats for an entire evening?”

Leliana smiled. “Madame Vivienne, Josie, and myself could use the assistance of another person familiar with the setting.”

“It's not the Summer Ball, but many of the same principles apply.” The ambassador grinned at Ebrisa.

“This is ridiculous,” Hawke sighed. “Cullen, back me up here.”

The commander had been watching Ebrisa's reaction as Josephine spoke. Her eyes lit up with excitement and her face brightened. For whatever reason, Ebrisa seemed overjoyed at the idea of attending the Orlesian masquerade. The thought of seeing that happiness ripped away from her was not something Cullen could stomach at the moment. “I don't pretend to know anything about Orlesian politics,” he began. “So if the experts think they could use the help, I say let Ebrisa attend.”

“Ugh, fine.” Hawke tossed her hands in the air and left the room.

Ebrisa beamed brightly at Cullen, her smile sending his heart pounding and cheeks to flush. Leliana raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with Josephine. “Let's start searching for an invitation, Josie. There are some new messages in the rookery.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Josephine stood and walked out of the office with her friend, closing the door behind them.

“So,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “What persuaded you to make a break for it? Did you just get stir crazy in your room?”

“I did,” Ebrisa laughed timidly. “But I also wanted to turn in my report. I finished it last night.” She grabbed the papers from the desk and moved to hand them over, but her foot caught the edge of the rug and she tripped. Cullen caught her easily as the papers scattered to the floor around them. “Thank you. The rug is new?”

Cullen chuckled. “No, its been there.”

“Ah. No excuse for my clumsiness then.” She mumbled and looked away, embarrassed.

“Hey Ruffles, what are you doing spying on your own office?” Varric had seen the two women pretend to leave, then sneak back to the inner door and couldn't help but ask.

“Hush,” Leliana whispered as she peered through the small crack in the door. “I want to hear them.”

“That Curly and Sunshine in there?”

“It is,” Josephine grinned.

“Scoot over.”

Ebrisa pulled away from Cullen's arms and moved to the floor to gather the sheets, the commander crouching to assist.

“I've been meaning to thank you.” She said awkwardly.

“You just did.”

“No, I mean...” She rested a hand on a piece of her report. “I'm told that you were the only one who didn't give up on me. Quite stubbornly, from what I understand.”

Cullen rubbed his neck. “Well, you've come back before.”

“But this wasn't for a few hours, this was for weeks.” The mage furrowed her brow. “How could you know I was still out there? No one else did.”

Cullen sighed. “Until I saw proof, I wasn't going to believe you were really gone. It was just impossible.” He placed a hand on top of hers. “There was no way I was going to give up hope that you would return to...” Cullen paused and looked away, squeezing her hand. “To all of us.”

Ebrisa's heart beat so hard she was sure Cullen could hear it pounding in her chest.

The commander coughed and removed his hand, picking up the remaining papers. “Why did you return to Skyhold? Surely there were rifts closer to you and easier to get through.” He handed the mage the sheets and stood.

“I wasn't sure how dangerous they would be with demons pressing against them.” Ebrisa frowned slightly. “All I could think of was getting where I knew it was safe.” Cullen helped her to her feet, but Ebrisa kept her head down. She raised her eyes slowly, a blush staining her cheeks. “At your side.” She glanced away quickly. “He-here, with everyone.”

Cullen had been going over the dream he had with the fake Ebrisa and what it had said. The single thing she latched onto in the Fade... perhaps he hadn't misheard the spirit after all. “Ebrisa,” he began softly.

“Hey, watch it with those horns!” A raspy voice said from the door.

“Shut up!” Another hissed.

Ebrisa's face went bright red at the realization they were being watched. “I-I'll go put my report in the war room,” she squeaked and fled off down the long hallway.

The commander turned an angry eye to the door.

“Shit shit shit!”

“Move it!”

Cullen swung the door wide open, Varric and Dorian falling into the room and Josephine trying to squeeze past Iron Bull to the main hall. Leliana stood there calmly, dusting off her gloves. “What are you all doing?” Cullen growled.

“That is an excellent question, Commander.” Dorian laughed nervously. “Varric, why don't you tell him?”

“Me?!” The dwarf scrambled to his feet. “Why, Ruffles invited me to her office. Haven't the foggiest idea why.”

“You liar!” Josephine fumed. “You came here on your own.”

“Honestly, I just saw a bunch of people crowded around a door and thought, 'this looks like fun'.” Iron Bull shrugged.

Leliana only smirked at the commander.

“Leave!” Cullen shouted.

“But this is my office...” Josephine looked up sheepishly.

“Go!” He shouted again and the group quickly disbanded, save the spymaster.

“I'll admit, not my most successful operation,” she sighed. “Still, I did gather some rather useful information.”

“Leliana,” Cullen warned.

“Aww, too angry that we embarrassed the Herald to feel embarrassed yourself? How sweet.”

The commander slammed the door in her face.

Chapter Text

“It's so cute,” Ebrisa cooed as she held the wooden figure aloft. “How did you do this?”

“With a knife and a lot of patience,” Blackwall chuckled. “You like it then?”

“Ser Blackwall, its perfect. It looks just like Rufous.” She tried to contain her giggle as she turned the carved hart over in her hands.

The warden couldn't help but smile. “Think of it as a late welcome home gift.”

The mage stilled. “You... you made it for me?”

“Know any one else around here that would appreciate such a little thing?” Blackwall raised a brow.

“But you must have spent so much time on this.” Ebrisa looked at him, confused. “Why would you...?”

“Bah, whittling takes hardly any thought. Almost soothing, actually.” He shrugged. “Besides, you're worth the time, my lady.”

The mage hugged him suddenly. “Thank you, Ser Blackwall. I'll treasure it.”

“Alright, alright,” the warden laughed and gave her a squeeze before she pulled away. “Does this mean you want a little stable play set?”

Ebrisa laughed lightly at the idea. “Officially, I will decline. Unofficially, I would not be at all displeased to find one in my room someday. Especially if the other mounts come out this adorable.” She held the carving to her cheek and nuzzled it lightly.

Blackwall smirked and shook his head. “You really are a different person entirely when it comes to these animals.”

“Can't be helped,” she sighed as she left the workshop. “Its in the blood, I'm afraid.”

He watched her go back to her room, cradling the carving in her hands.

“Careful now, or you'll spoil her,” Dennet warned without looking up from the harness he was repairing.

“I don't know if that's possible,” Blackwall replied.

“Oh sure it is. Little gift here, little gift there, just so you can see her smile.” Dennet pushed the awl through the new strapping. “Then she starts asking for things out of the blue and you try to put your foot down, but darn that little pouting face.”

“She's a woman, not a child,” Blackwall chuckled.

“Then why are you treating the Herald the same way I treat my Senna?” Dennet raised a brow and punched another hole.

~~~~~~

Ebrisa hummed merrily to herself as she flipped through a book of poetry. She'd notice Cassandra reading it earlier before stashing it behind a pile of chopped wood and was delighted in knowing there was a softer side to the Seeker. She read a couple, finding them to be love poems. There were a few pages dogeared – a terrible thing to do to books, honestly – but had to be some of Cassandra's favorites. Ebrisa began to read one about blossoms and the wind carrying sweet scents, but her eyes widened and face reddened as the poem continued. Her heart pounded and she covered her eyes, but couldn't help but peek back at the words through her fingers. She had not expected to find this sort of book in the Seeker's possession. And why couldn't she stop reading?!

Cullen walked out of the armory, having finished speaking to Cassandra, and noticed Ebrisa sitting on the grass, seemingly terrified of the book in her hand. He approached her curiously and bent his head to read the title. “Carmenum Di Amatus?”

Ebrisa shrieked and tossed the book into the air, then quickly scrambled to hide it, her face burning.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” Cullen chuckled as he regarded the nervous mage. She darted her eyes around and tried to stand. “Here, let me.” Cullen offered her a hand, but she turned away, holding the book close.

“What is going on out here?” Cassandra exited the armory and Ebrisa crawled to her feet, rushing over to the Seeker and pressing the book into her hands.

“I'm sorry - I didn't know!” The mage stammered out. “I shouldn't have read it! I didn't know!” With that she ran off across the yard, nearly tripping on her skirt as she did so.

Cassandra watched her go curiously, then turned to the book in her hands. “Oh.” She blushed slightly.

“Is that something I should be concerned about?” The commander asked, still terribly confused.

The Seeker cleared her throat and held the book behind her back. “Not necessarily, but it would seem our Herald is still remarkably innocent.”

“That's not exactly surprising,” Iron Bull snickered. “The look on her poor face as she read your smutty poems was priceless.”

“They are not smutty, they are beautiful!” Cassandra defended. “Perhaps some a bit more... erotic than others, but not smutty.”

“Still, stuffs too powerful for little miss virgin.” Bull smirked.

“Watch yourself, qunari,” Cullen cut in. “Its disrespectful to even think about that.”

“Hey, didn't say I was going to do anything about it,” Bull chuckled. He stopped and lifted his hands. “Alright, alright. I'll drop it.”

Cullen continued to glare. “Good.”

“Commander?” Cassandra said cautiously. “You should remove your hand.”

Cullen looked down at his hand and slowly released the hilt of his sword. He hadn't even realized he grabbed it. He shook his head and held it lightly. “Apologies, Bull. I don't know why I did that.”

“The Herald is obviously your sore spot,” the qunari mumbled as he leaned back against the wall.

Cassandra waved off the mercenary before speaking quietly to Cullen. “Is it from the lyrium withdrawal? You should rest a bit.”

“I...” Cullen sighed. “Perhaps you are right.”

~~~~~~

“Dear one, what has put you in such a good mood as of late?” The spirit asked Ebrisa.

The mage held her arms out in front of her and tilted her head as she tried to recall the next step.

“Sweetling?” The spirit tried again.

“Oh!” Ebrisa dropped from her stance, embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Mother. You were saying?”

The woman laughed softly behind her hand. “I was wondering why you seem so happy recently.”

Ebrisa smiled widely. “A wonderful thing! There is going to be an Orlesian ball held by Empress Celene herself and I've been given permission to attend!” She sighed wistfully and clasped her hands together. “The ballroom, the dresses, the dancing... I had almost given up hope of seeing those things again.”

“Because of the Circle?”

“No, Mother. Pardon my saying, but because you refused my invitations.”

The spirit looked slightly shocked, then sad. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, I do not blame you.” Ebrisa quickly added. “My magic was manifesting and I could hardly control it. You were saving me the embarrassment of setting a buffet table on fire, I'm sure.” She smiled reassuringly and returned to her previous position. “Now then, do you recall the next part of La Damette? Lady Montilyet says it is in current Orlesian fashion.”

~~~~~

“One two three and one two three and-” Josephine clapped her hands loudly on each downbeat to keep time as Dorian lead Ebrisa around the room. He was a bit stiff in his movements, finding the Orlesian tempo awkward for the waltz he thought he knew. Ebrisa made up for his stiffness by exaggerating her own steps to add flourish with her skirts and appear more graceful. Josephine held on to her final clap, Dorian bowing and Ebrisa curtsying smoothly.

“Yes, near perfect.” Josephine smiled proudly. “The fault lies with the partner, but you did well to compensate.”

Dorian huffed and folded his arms. “I said we had most of the same dances in Tevinter, I didn't say they went to the same music. You silly Southerners always have to put your stamp on things.”

“Actually, Master Pavus, this dance originated in Antiva.” Ebrisa smiled timidly and shrugged her shoulders.

The Tevinter rolled his eyes. “I suppose I'll have to believe you on that count, Miss Encyclopedia.”

Josephine had hope Ebrisa would recall some measure of ballroom practices, but her mastery of dances and posture was far beyond what she expected. “You are a natural, Lady Herald. Now if the Inquisitor could take some ques from you, we would be golden.”

“What?” Hawke whined from the side of the room. “But you just said she was a natural! How can I learn to be a natural?”

The Antivan waved Hawke over and instructed her to get in position beside Dorian.

“Ugh, why do I have to do this too?” Hawke groaned.

“You're complaining? I'm the one with four sore toes thanks to you.” Dorian sighed.

“Hush.” Josephine looked sternly at the pair. “One two three and one two three-”

Ebrisa held a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as Dorian practically dragged the Inquisitor around the room. After a few rounds of the dance, the Herald noticed that Hawke did seem to know the moves and timing, but was tripping up on her partner.

“Ouch! That one was intentional!” Dorian fumed, dropping the Inquisitor's hands and bending down to rub his foot.

“You are such a baby,” Hawke sighed.

“No, I'm a mage. We're a very delicate sort.”

“I have an idea,” Ebrisa offered. “Master Pavus, you can sit this one out.”

“Gladly,” he mumbled and took a seat, still rubbing his foot.

“Lady Inquisitor, starting position?”

Hawke sighed and lifted her arms. Ebrisa switched their position and stood at her right side. “Lady Montilyet, if you'd please.”

Josephine began counting and clapping, Hawke quickly adjusting to the reversed position and lead Ebrisa across the floor with little trouble. They finished, Hawke bowing at her waist. “How did I do that?”

“So the Inquisitor isn't terrible, she just can't let someone else lead.” Dorian laughed. “Stubborn woman.”

“If it works, it works,” Josephine sighed. “Just get to the lead position first and force your partner into following.”

“Yes,” Dorian smirked. “The Inquisitor shall truly be a leader of men.”

“You want another go, Tevinter?” Hawke growled.

“No no, I'm quite alright.” He stood up and headed for the door. “If I'm no longer needed, I'll be on my way.”

“Hey! You can't ditch without me!” Hawke rushed past the unprepared ambassador and darted out the door behind Dorian.

“We aren't finished here!” Josephine shouted after them.

“I'm afraid you won't get much more out of them today, Lady Montilyet.” Ebrisa sighed sympathetically. “We could continue, if you'd like.”

“Of course. How about Rondel du Feu?”

“Oh yes, that one was always so beautiful to watch.” The mage smiled. “The room is a bit small. Where shall the turn be?”

Josephine hummed a moment. “We will need to turn a few times. I hope you won't get dizzy.”

“Better to happen in practice than Halamshiral.” The mage said while eyeing the floor and trying to determine her pacing. She lowered her head and held out her left hand, arching her right above her. Josephine nodded at the pose and began her count.

“Inquisitor? Aren't you supposed to be taking lessons right now?” Cullen looked up from the newly forged swords, satisfied with their weight and balance.

Hawke stopped peddling the grind stone and let it spin.”Josephine said I was good to go.”

“She did?” Cullen looked skeptical.

“Yup. I'm a leader, not a follower.”

“I'll just go confirm with the ambassador then.” Cullen paused at the door and turned back to the Inquisitor. “Remember, I can find you, should you be lying.”

Hawke laughed nervously and slowly backed up to a table.

The commander crossed Skyhold, having something to ask Josephine anyways, and entered the storage room she had commandeered. He stilled in the doorway, mesmerized as Ebrisa dipped and swept her arms, moving across the room and occasionally lifting the side of her skirt and drawing a half circle with a pointed foot.

“Stop, stop, your pacing is too uneven.” Josephine groaned.

“Could we set up markers on the floor?” The mage frowned at the patternless flooring. “Draw points with chalk, perhaps?”

“No, no, then you would be looking down and that would throw you off even more.” Josephine shook her head. “What you need is a partner. Why did both of them run off?”

“I knew she hadn't been excused.” Cullen sighed. “I can go fetch your wayward pupil.”

“Actually, Commander, could you stand in?” The Antivan was already at his side and pulling on his arm.

“I don't know any of these Orlesian dances.” He tried to pull away, but found a determined Josephine to be surprisingly strong. “I should really just go get Hawke. Or Dorian! He was helping, right?”

“Oh, don't be silly.” Josephine pushed him next to Ebrisa and smiled. “Your part is remarkably easy. You take a step every two counts and hold out your hand. Left, together, right, together.”

“It didn't look quiet so basic a moment ago,” the commander mumbled.

“You were watching?” Ebrisa asked softly.

Cullen blushed a bit from being caught.

“In this dance, Commander, you are the holding point and she the fire. You are the anchor for the flame.” Josephine waved her hands in the air. “It is much better with the music, I assure you.”

The commander sighed. “It appears I have little choice. What do I do?”

The ambassador moved his arms into position and quickly went over the moves. “See? Easy! Now then, Lady Herald?”

Ebrisa readied herself and placed her hand in Cullen's. She looked up at him from under her lashes and smiled reassuringly. “You'll do fine. Just keep me tethered.”

“Alright, eyes forward Commander.” Josephine took a breath and began counting.

Ebrisa and Cullen turned to one another, the mage lowering straight down, but keeping her hand in Cullen's. They faced forward and stepped once, then Ebrisa broke away to the side with a sweeping motion before returning for the next step. On the third step she broke away again, returning by the fifth. Each time she removed her hand, her movements became more exaggerated, but she never stayed away for more than eight steps. Ebrisa's movements became more fluid and she moved her hands over herself lightly. Cullen watched from the corner of his eye as she trailed delicate fingers up her leg or ghosted her hands up her torso and over her head. Each time she returned for their step, Ebrisa would match Cullen's formal posture and the contrast between the two sections was rather remarkable. When Ebrisa slid her skirt up her right leg and arched her back, her hand to cheek, she had such a passionate expression on her face that Cullen didn't dare watch anymore and focused on Josephine's counting. Ebrisa returned her hand to Cullen's and they stepped, but she stayed with him for another step before turning inward, still holding his hand. She rested against him, her head tilted back on his chest and held his hand to her stomach. Cullen stared down at her as she panted, her cheeks flushed and lips parted, body pressed against him. He felt heat rising inside him and his mouth went dry.

Sera whistled from the doorway as Hawke and Dorian clapped enthusiastically. Cullen and Ebrisa broke apart, the mage laughing timidly. “Was that good? I've done it on my own, but that was my first time with a partner.” She turned to Cullen, face still flushed as she looked at him with a shy smile. “It was a completely different experience with you.”

The commander just stared at her as his mind took everything out of context and a furious blush crept onto his face.

“She said that on purpose, right?” Sera snickered.

“Josephine, teach me that one.” Hawke grinned. “Its got a few moves I could use.”

“I am afraid that dance is far beyond you, if you don't wish to perform the commander's part,” Josephine sighed. She clasped Ebrisa on the shoulder and nodded. “You did very well, my lady. Why don't you take a rest.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.” Ebrisa crossed the room to the pitcher of water as the others came over to her.

Josephine hummed thoughtfully at Cullen's side. “When its a group of dancers, it loses much of the intimacy. Such a shame.” She looked up at him with a wicked grin. “Aren't you glad you didn't fetch someone else to be her first partner for that one?”

Chapter Text

As promised, Josephine managed to secure invitations for the masquerade. Grand Duke Gaspard would bring the Inquisitor as his personal guest and it took the ambassador quite a bit of time to get that invitation extended for the advisors, inner circle, and some honor guard. What she did not have to negotiate was an invitation for the Herald. In fact, as soon as Josephine sent out inquiries, an invite arrived on its own naming only Lady Trevelyan. It was from one on the nobles they took to Therinfall Redoubt and had a note that simply said “Let all of Orlais know your light.” It had made Josephine smile as she read it.

There were only precious few days before they had to depart for Halamshiral and the only thing that let Ebrisa sleep was getting to speak with her false mother about the preparations. She often wondered of her real mother would be as proud and happy for her as the spirit seemed to be.

The spirit was smiling at her now in the tower room as Ebrisa relayed getting fitted for her gown. “And the corset just sparkles no matter where the light hits it. Its beautiful,” she sighed. “Lady Montilyet assures me it will be completed before we arrive and that I will have attendants to help me dress. I never realized how many layers went into Orlesian fashion.”

“Yes, they are the pinnacle of opulence,” the woman tittered. “Tell me, what dance do you hope to do first? I know its largely out of your control, but I still would like to know.”

Ebrisa blushed and took a small pillow into her lap. “The song that plays doesn't matter much, but I would like the first dance to be with Cullen.”

“Sweetling,” the spirit shook its head disapprovingly.

“I know we are there to thwart an assassination, but it would be a moment I will hold onto forever. He's helped me practice a few times, so I know he can do it.” Ebrisa giggled into the pillow. “He gets so embarrassed dancing, but he's actually pretty decent.”

“Dear one, I have said it many, many times.” The spirit began to get angry. “Templars can not love mages. They are trained to kill mages and will always see you as an abomination waiting to happen.” The spirit walked to the brazier and stared into the flame. “He will hurt you.”

“Cullen isn't a templar anymore, Mother!” Ebrisa said emphatically.

“No, child, he will always be one.”

~~~~~~~

To her surprise, Hawke found Gaspard rather straight forward for an Orlesian noble. Indeed it was his lack of proficiency with the Game that lost him the crown in the first place. The Grand Duke was even direct with his attempt to reclaim his birthright – fighting a civil war on the battlefield instead of striking from the shadows. Hawke could almost admire that dedication. Almost.

However, being invited by one honest Orlesian did not make up for the hoard of petty gossipers that littered the front courtyard. Hawke navigated the group carefully, trying to get a feel for what the evening had in store. She actually rather hoped to find the assassin with a big Tevinter sign around their neck so they could bag the would be killer and leave. Alas, nothing is plain in Orlais.

Most of the Inquisition went inside already, but Hawke kept turning to the steady stream of carriages expectantly. “Is something the matter, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked softly.

“Where is the Herald? I haven't seen her all day.” Hawke faced the ambassador. “Is she unwell?”

“Oh, no, her worship is the picture of health, I assure you. I don't think we could convince her to stay behind even if she were ill, to be honest.” Josephine laughed lightly and directed the Inquisitor through the inner gates. “The Herald's invitation was not from the Grand Duke, so we thought a second set of honor guards for a second arrival would make sneaking in our forces easier. Besides, we do not want anything to... detract from your introduction to the court.”

Hawke eyed the Antivan curiously.”Josephine, what are you playing at?”

“The Game, Inquisitor, and we must ensure each piece is utilized to its fullest potential.” Josephine frowned slightly. “Speaking of... could you, perhaps, endeavor to be less... crass, this evening?”

Hawke sighed and adjusted her dress jacket. “I'll be on my best behavior.”

“Good. Even the slightest misstep could cost us dearly with future allies or trade.”

When Gaspard and Hawke were presented in the ball room, the Inquisitor had to resist the urge to pull faces as they piled fanciful titles upon her, rewording her exploits to something befitting the Orlesian status quo. At Josephine's behest, the inner circle and advisors were also introduced. She wanted the court to know the impressive and diverse people under the Inquisitor's command. Hawke tied hard not to snicker at Sera's and Cassandra's introductions, but was more than a little confused that Blackwall wasn't included. Had he even gone into the vestibule with them?

Empress Celene was indeed every bit as stunning as gossip would lead you to believe and it took everything Hawke had to stay on script and not just scream that there was an assassin and everyone had to leave. Leliana had assured her it wouldn't have worked anyways.

After a few pointers from the spymaster, the group took up positions around the Winter Palace, trying to seem as though they were enjoying themselves while still watching for anything out of place. Of course, it was a masquerade, so everything looked out of place.

Hawke looked across the room curiously as Blackwall took up position on the lower landing. “What's he doing over there?”

“Oh, she's here!” Josephine handed her drink to her startled sister, effectively cutting Yvette off in the middle of her artistic gloating, and turned excitedly to the dance floor. “Watch, watch!” She bounced slightly as the Empress' herald opened his scroll.

“Presenting, Her Worship, Lady Ebris Amelisse Trevelyan.”

Ebrisa stepped slowly down the stairs, back straight, eyes up and forward, and hands perched delicately in front of her at a perfect forty-five degree angle.

“Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick, Spiritual advisor of the Inquisition, and Voice of Our Lady of Sorrows, the Herald of Andraste.”

The room was eerily quiet as Ebrisa stood centered on the landing in her ball gown. It was of current Orlesian fashion with a red bodice and sleeves and a pleated, gold neckline mimicking the shoulders of the Inquisition's jackets. Her corset was blue virital, fastened in front with the same gold closure the Inquisition sported, and with a blue silk ribbon hanging in the back. Her over skirt was the same striking red as the blouse and her main skirt a sparkling champagne color embroidered with golden rays of sunlight on the edge. She wore a blue sash, clasped with the Inquisition seal and supple leather wrist gloves, cuffs folded down.

Ebrisa held out her left hand and waited.

“Accompanying her, Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin.”

“Now all she needs to do is smile...” Josephine trailed off as the introduction continued.

As if on cue, Ebrisa smiled warmly beneath the dainty golden mask and walked across the dance floor with the warden.

“Why Blackwall?” Hawke accidentally asked out loud.

“We needed a strong figure the Orlesians would respect,” Josephine explained. “Grey Warden's are practically legendary.” The Antivan smirked playfully. “My word, Inquisitor, are you jealous? I'm sure if you asked Blackwall for a dance, he'd hold your hand too.”

“Don't be absurd. I was just asking,” Hawke huffed and turned her head away to avoid Josephine's expression.

“Well I'm jealous,” Vivienne added as she approached. “You must give me the name of your tailor, Josephine dear. Her dress is marvelous.”

“Thank you. We needed the Herald to look like she was part of the Inquisition, but also separate from it.” Josephine smiled.

“Did you teach her that thing she is doing with her hands?”

“No.” Josephine beamed. “In fact, I had to teach her very little. Did I ever mention that the Trevelyan's Summer Ball was the highlight of her youth?”

Vivienne smiled fondly. “Well that certainly explains her rare air of confidence.”

Ebrisa arrived before the Empress and removed her hand from Blackwall's arm, dipping into a deep curtsey.

“Welcome to the Winter Palace, Lady Herald. The ballroom brightens with your presence.” Celene poised her hand in the air.

The mage dipped her head at the compliment before raising her eyes to the empress. “Yet it pales in comparison to your shining radiance, Your Majesty.”

Celene nodded with a pleasant smile. “And how do you find Halamshiral?”

“It is a beauty beyond my fairest imaginings.” Ebrisa replied wistfully. “I expect someone shall be along any moment to wake me from my lavish dream.”

Celene tittered softly. “If a dream this be, let us see what you imagine for all of us.” The empress waved her hand out elegantly. “Enjoy the ballroom, Lady Herald.”

Ebrisa curtsied again, then held out her hand to grasp Blackwall's arm and the two climbed the steps to their awaiting comrades. “Thank you, Ser Blackwall.” The mage curtsied slightly to the warden and he chuckled quietly.

“My pleasure, my lady.” He bowed in return. “Now, by your leave, I'm going to go find an inconspicuous place to hide.” Blackwall nodded at Hawke and walked away.

“You did splendidly!” Josephine burst with pride. “Is this all you hoped for? I know we didn't get you many fittings. Is the dress too tight?”

“It is wonderful, Lady Montilyet. Though the neckline seems lower than I remember. I feel a bit exposed.” Ebrisa blushed under her painted cheeks. She looked between the women before her. “Am I the only one in a gown?”

“Josephine couldn't have gotten me in one of those if she tried.” Hawke chuckled. “A mask would have been nice though. Is this a fire design?” She motioned to Ebrisa's face.

“The flames of the Maker, as it were.” Josephine explained.

“You sure aren't pulling any punches,” Hawke sighed.

“As I said, every piece to it's fullest potential. Not then, my lady, let me introduce you to some key diplomats.” Josephine lead Ebrisa away, the mage's face shining with excitement.

“If she didn't seem to be enjoying herself so much, I'd feel sorry for the Herald.” Hawke said while folding her arms.

“Some people are just born into this lifestyle, my dear.” Vivienne sighed. “Let the girl have her party while we hunt for assassins.”

“Yeah, she could use a break.”

Vivienne laughed at the absurdity of the remark. “Oh Inquisitor, the Game is no time to take a break. Our Herald does seem rather confident though, so I wouldn't worry.”

Cullen had stayed in his corner as he heard Ebrisa being announced. He frowned at the mispronunciation of her name, unsure if it was intentional and by whose hand. Its not as though he didn't try to watch her entrance, he was simply blocked by the mob that gathered around him, Maker knew why. He could hear people gasp and whisper to one another as she was presented and murmur as she spoke to the empress. The commander caught glimpses of Josephine leading a blonde in a red gown around the ballroom and could only assume it was her. Josephine had been surprisingly secret about Ebrisa that day, saying only that she would make an excellent distraction from the Inquisitor's absence as she sleuthed about.

Ebrisa had made the rounds to Josephine's approval and was instructed to be polite and dance with anyone who asked. She was told to enjoy herself, but be aware of the Game. As Josephine left her side, Ebrisa moved slowly towards Cullen. It was just a dance. Surely he wouldn't think any more of it than their few practice sessions. Just a dance. Ebrisa's heart pounded as she drew near. It wouldn't mean much to Cullen, but to have her first dance as an adult in society be with him would mean everything to her.

“This is quite the fan club you've gathered, Commander.” Dorian laughed.

“They won't go away. I can barely see anything.” Cullen mumbled under his breath. He greatly wanted to tell them all to get lost, but knew that would harm their operation, so he kept his grumblings quiet and resisted glaring.

“Commander, has anyone told you that you have the most remarkable eyes?” A countess of some sort asked, trying to flirt.

“Yes. Several times this evening, in fact.” Cullen sighed.

“Are you married, Commander?” A noble man asked with a sly grin.

“No.” He answered crisply. The surrounding women giggled.

“Would you like to dance?” Another woman asked meekly, but hopefully.

“No, thank you.” Cullen rejected curtly.

“Oh.” Ebrisa was bit taken aback. “Of course, apologies.”

The commander turned to the familiar voice and his mind blanked. Ebrisa was absolutely stunning in her gown and the delicate mask accentuated her green eyes instead of hiding them. She was wearing a small amount of make up that only served to highlight her features and make her lips even more inviting. Her hair was partially pinned up in twisting loops with the rest running loose down her back.

A distraction indeed.

“I would be happy to dance with you, Lady Herald,” a nobleman smiled and bowed at her side. Ebrisa blinked and forced a smile to hide her crushing disappointment.

“Why thank you, my lord.” She held out her skirt and dipped into a small curtsy before accepting his elbow and moving to the dance floor.

Cullen stared after her, still stunned. Dorian's chuckling brought him back and Cullen leveled his eyes at the Tevinter. “Hey, don't get upset with me.” Dorian laughed. “You're the one that turned her down. Crushed her dainty, little dream. Oh, Commander.” Dorian sighed and picked up his drink. “Good party so far.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa sat on the bench by the door and took a small break. She never thought she would tire of dancing, but dancing was making her quite tired.

“Oh dear, are you finished already, my lady?” A nobleman approached her and sighed. “I'd hate to think I missed my chance.”

“Lord Averitt, wasn't it?” Ebrisa recalled his family owned a large mine of some sort. “Just a might exhausted. I haven't danced this much since I was a girl, and many of those were on my father's shoes.” She tittered softly. “I'd like to think my form has improved since then.”

“Oh, yes,” Averitt smiled deviously as he looked down at her. “Your form is quite lovely.”

Ebrisa laughed politely, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“How about some air?” The lord offered, motioning for the door.

“Oh, I truly shouldn't leave.”

“You're certain? I hear the Winter Palace has a fascinating collection of books from all over the empire.”

“As I understand it, the library is closed.” Ebrisa began slowly.

“It is sealed, yes, but I happen to have the key in my possession.” Averitt smiled and withdrew the ornate bit of metal from his pocket.

Ebrisa was genuinely interested in seeing the collection. Orlesians wrote everything from magic theory to love poetry and there were surely books there Josephine could never acquire. “Very well, my lord, you have swayed me. Only for a moment or two.”

He lead the Herald through the vestibule and up the steps to the closed off wing. The man unlocked the door and waved her in, Ebrisa's excitement taking over her sense and she gasped at the size of the room. Cases as least three times her height were filled to the brim and Averitt walked slowly behind her as Ebrisa moved from row to row in wonder. She trailed her fingers against the colorful spines and tried to decide which to remove first.

“Breath taking,” Averitt said in a husky voice.

“It is,” Ebrisa turned and found the lord uncomfortably close. She took a step back into the shelf and he placed a hand on the books, boxing the mage in.

“I wasn't talking about the library, dear Herald.” He smiled and leaned in.

Ebrisa swallowed and tried to force a polite smile. “I should get back. Lady Montilyet had more people to introduce me to.”

He trailed a hand along her sash. “The fabric of your dress is so delicate. Do you think it would wrinkle terribly in a heap on the floor?”

“Lord Averitt, I would like to return to the ballroom now.” Her voice was shaking, but body frozen.

“Come now, Herald. Do not be so reserved.” He laughed. “We both know why you came here with your pouty lips and heaving chest.” He place a hand on her corset and slowly slid it up as he leaned in.

No one had warned her about this. Josephine had said to be polite, but how far did that extend? Was this normal Orlesian ball behavior? How far would Averitt try and take this? Was... was this expected of her? Ebrisa shut her eyes and turned her face away, the shelf behind her beginning to singe in her tight grasp as she felt his breath on her neck and fingers brushing her breast.

“Ah, there you are, Herald!” Vivienne turned the corner and smiled widely. Averitt jumped back and coughed, giving Ebrisa enough space to finally breathe.

“Oh, Lord Averitt? How odd to see you so far from the buffet. I hear they just brought out the pettifore.” Vivienne grasped Ebrisa's arm gently and lead her away. “My dear, Master Pavus has been asking after you saying you promised him a dance. You know how Tevinters can get.” Once they were out of earshot, Vivienne leaned in close. “Are you alright? Tell me everything.” The enchanter took Ebrisa back to the ballroom as she relayed what happened.

“How did you know where to find me?” Ebrisa asked, still shaken.

“There was a... who did tell me?” Vivienne was puzzled, but shook it off and handed the Herald to a surprised Dorian. “Dance with her. Now.”

He began to protest, but quickly stopped as he looked at the blonde. “Come along then, dear. I think the band is about to start up again.” Dorian lead her to the dance floor and took up positions, thankful for the relatively easy tune that began to play. “It's not everyday that a beautiful woman is thrust into my arms. I take it something happened?”

Ebrisa let out a shaky breath. “I think something almost did. I was cornered... I didn't know how to stop his forceful advances.”

Dorian struggled to keep dancing. “Someone tried to touch you? Here?”

“In the library...”

“Seclusion makes it no better, dear.” Dorian whispered angrily. “I don't know all of your courtly customs, but I dare say you were well within your right to punch the blighter flat on his back.”

Ebrisa smiled wearily. “He kept calling me Herald. If he saw me as a servant of Andraste, why would he...?”

“To some people, the forbidden fruit is the sweetest. He likely took your position as a challenge.” Dorian glanced up to see Vivienne speaking with Leliana and Josephine. “I believe our social butterflies will determine a fitting punishment.”

“How could anyone see me as a... sexual object?”

Dorian laughed. “My dear, you are still a woman.”

“But I've never done anything to give any notion of... such activities.” Ebrisa was slightly baffled.

“Tell that to our poor commander,” Dorian mumbled.

Ebrisa blushed suddenly. Surely, she hadn't heard him correctly.

“Regardless, that sleazy noble has no excuse for even attempting to get you alone. Even if you were rolling around in the fountain in your small clothes, your actions never give permission to another to force themselves on you. Do you understand?”

They finished the dance in silence and Dorian lead the Herald to a bench to rest on while he went to see what justice the Inquisition would dispense.

“Did he hurt you?” Cole looked up at Ebrisa from his seat on the floor beside her bench. He had ridden in the carriage with Ebrisa, but disappeared once they arrived at the Winter Palace.

“You brought Madame Vivienne?”

“Yes. I was in the library. The man was thinking very loudly. Not good things. Dark. Dirty. Desire.” Cole reached out and grasped the hem of her sleeve. “Did he hurt you?”

Ebrisa laid her hand over the boys. “No, Ser Cole. He didn't. A moment longer and I... I don't know what would have happened.”

“Good.” Cole lowered his head. “I would have killed him.” And then he was gone, leaving Ebrisa doubting what she had just heard.

“You can't be serious,” Dorian whispered harshly. “That's just unacceptable.”

“Master Pavus, the fact remains that the Herald was not harmed.” Josephine sighed. “While duels have been fought for far less offenses, we cannot afford any negative reactions until after the assassins are caught.”

“Vivienne, you were there, right?” He looked at the other mage expectantly. “You saw something, surely.”

The first enchanter looked away. “He may have had a hand on her breast, but I didn't give him the chance to go beyond that.”

“Beyond that?” Dorian hissed. “I'd think that was plenty already.”

“Words can be as dangerous as swords, Dorian.” Leliana stated matter-of-factly. “We will distribute rumors laced with bits of truth and harm his reputation. By the end of the night, his family will have far fewer trading partners.”

“This is ridiculous.” Dorian shook his head.

“This is Orlais, dear.” Vivienne corrected.

“I will never understand you Southerners. The Herald looks up to you, Vivienne. And you?” Dorian turned sharply to Josephine and glared. “I thought you were her friend.” He stormed away and took Ebrisa from the ballroom.

“He's so melodramatic.” Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Typical Tevinter.”

“I know one thing for certain,” Leliana said softly. “If Dorian is this mad, then we absolutely can not let the commander know. He'd likely kill Averitt without a second thought.”

Josephine stayed put as the other two moved away. She knew that politically, it was the correct move, but Dorian's words made her heart ache with guilt. Sacrifices had to be made for the big picture, but where did the line between acceptable and betrayal lie?

The men of the inner circle played pass the Herald for a while, taking turns keeping her company and showing her around until she felt herself again. Ebrisa caught glimpses of Cole now and then and the knowledge that they were watching out for her filled her trusting heart with the warmth it had lost.

“You know, cookies are a relatively new thing in Par Vollen.” Iron Bull smiled as he picked up another sweet from the table.

“Oh? Is sugar rare?” Ebrisa rejected the offered snack.

“Not really, we just never thought of it. Then one day, about ten years ago, a baker made some by request and bam, instant hit.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “You never forget your first cookie.”

Hawke walked up to them briskly. “Bull, grab your gear and meet me in the Hall of Heroes. Something is going on in the servant's quarters.”

“Gotcha, Boss.” The qunari shoved the rest of the mini cake in his mouth and dusted off his hands as he left the room.

“Do you need my assistance?” Ebrisa asked.

Hawke looked her over quickly. “No, we have it under control. But, um,” She smiled sheepishly.”We will most likely be causing quite the ruckus, so if you could go show off your dance moves it may lessen the suspicion.”

“Of course, Lady Inquisitor.” Ebrisa nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.” Hawke reached over and swiped the icing off a dessert and popped it in her mouth as she rushed out of the room.

The Herald did as instructed and returned to the ballroom, dancing and chatting politely with any who approached her. Her laughter could be heard every so often ringing like a clear bell and drawing smiles from those around her.

“My dear Lady Herald, may I have this dance?”

“Of course.” Ebrisa turned around to the voice, smiling warmly. “Lord Averitt...” She struggled to keep her smile in place as the light behind her eyes dimmed.

“As I said earlier, I'd hate to think I missed my chance.” The man held out an elbow and the mage hesitantly accepted. He lead her down to the dance floor as the other couples began to gather, a wicked grin on his face. People began to murmur as Hawke and Florianne entered the dance floor, the Inquisitor quickly moving to the lead position. Ebrisa blinked in surprise at the pair, but took comfort in knowing Averitt couldn't possibly try anything with the Grand Duchess so near. The music began and the dancers raised their arms, fluttering their hands in place.

“A pity to have our thunder stolen at the last moment,” Averitt sighed as they began to step.

“They are the most astonishing pair to grace the floor all evening,” Ebrisa remarked, keeping her composure and treating the dance like any other.

“This would be the second time we have been interrupted. Perhaps the third time will be the charm, as they say.” He grinned as they bowed.

Surely he was joking. “Or perhaps it is the Maker's will.”

He chuckled as they touched hands and turned. “So the Maker tries to stand between us? I would think there are more important things to govern than your intimate affairs.”

A shudder ran through Ebrisa as she turned her back to Averitt and he lead her from behind, hand sliding up her waist, ghosting at the edge of her corset. “Well I am Andraste's Herald. I'm certain my social life is at least of some concern.” She turned in to face the noble, taken aback by the dark light in his hidden eyes.

“My dear, that just makes you all the more desirable.” They began to turn and spin, dipping slightly as they moved about the floor. His hand slid up her back to play with the a curl of her hair and he grinned at her. Ebrisa began to panic by his apparent disregard for people watching. This was possibly the most public place in all of Orlais that night and he touched her as if they were alone.

The song should have ended by then and indeed many couples had already left. “I believe the Inquisitor and Grand Duchess require the floor, Lord Averitt.”

“Ah, true. They seem quiet intent to continue dancing.” Reluctantly, he lead her off the floor and up the stairs, leaving Hawke and Florianne to continue on. Averitt tugged on her hair suddenly, pulling loose several strands of golden curls. Ebrisa winced and felt the heat rising in her hands.

No. Not here. Control it. Ebrisa dashed away as soon as she could, Averitt making to follow.

“Oh, Lord Averitt, how does your mother fair?” Josephine stepped in front of the noble, cutting him off as Ebrisa rushed to the open balcony.

She held onto the stone railing and took deep, calming breaths until she felt her body relax.

“Care for a drink, Herald?”

Ebrisa jumped at the voice and turned to face Gaspard. “Your Grace, forgive me, I did not know you were there.” She curtsied deeply. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” the Grand Duke poured into a small glass and offered it to the mage. “You look like you could use a drink. Small wonder these things don't push more people to the bottle.”

Ebrisa hesitated. She had never swallowed even a single drop of alcohol in her life, but to turn down an offer from the Grand Duke would be insane. Reluctantly, she took the glass. Gaspard poured one for himself and raised it in toast, Ebrisa mimicking him. He downed the liquid in one gulp and waited for her to do the same. Ebrisa tilted back her head and swallowed, only to instantly regret it. She coughed behind her hand and couldn't help the look of revulsion on her face.

Gaspard laughed heartily and poured himself another cup. “Brandy not your thing, Herald?”

“I'm afraid I do not have a thing, Your Grace.” Ebrisa managed to reply through her coughing. Oh, how her throat burned.

“Ah, I should have figured as much.” He shook his head, still amused. “But why did you accept?”

“I couldn't very well refuse something offered by the Grand Duke.” Ebrisa needed water. How to people enjoy this?

Gaspard only smiled. “The Herald of Andraste is far too polite for this world. If you are not careful, the Inquisition will take advantage of you.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I do not think them capable of that.”

He sighed and opened a new bottle. “The worst betrayals are the ones you never see coming. Remember that, your worship.”

Ebrisa curtsied and left the balcony, setting the glass on the railing. Her eyes still watered from the drink and she looked around for a cloth to dab at them before her makeup ran.

“Here, your worship, allow me.” Josephine withdrew a handkerchief and carefully removed the tears.”It this because of Lord Averitt? What did he say to you?” The Antivan seemed far more protective than earlier.

“Oh, no. Brandy.” Ebrisa tried not to move and kept looking up as Josephine switched eyes. “The Grand Duke offered me my first drink and it did not at all agree with me.”

“Is that why he was laughing?” Josephine failed to hide her amusement. “There, all fixed.” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps you should stay with me for the remainder of the evening.”

“Lady Montilyet, don't worry. I won't be taking any more drinks.” Ebrisa laughed lightly.

“Of course, but Lord Averitt seems quite intent on pursuing you.”

“Did the Inquisitor find anything out in the servant's quarters?” Ebrisa asked, glancing over Josephine's concern.

“She did. And the Grand Duchess had some information for her as well.” The Antivan frowned slightly. “You moved away from the dance floor quite quickly. You are certain nothing happened?”

So Josephine hadn't seen? Good. “And where is the Inquisitor now?”

“She... she went to investigate the royal family wing.”

Ebrisa nodded. “Then I shall need to resume my work as the distraction, yes?”

“My lady,” Josephine began.

“Don't worry, Lady Montilyet, I won't let you down.” The mage smiled and dipped her head before moving back into the sea of nobles.

Josephine stared after her, the cold stab of guilt twisting in her chest. “No, but I may have let you down.”

Chapter Text

“My lady Herald, thank the Maker I found you.” Florianne moved briskly over to Ebrisa, the nobles around her departing at once.

“Your Grace,” Ebrisa curtsied, startled by the sudden arrival.

“There is no time for ceremony, the Inquisitor needs your help at once.” Florianne whispered urgently.

The mage's eyes widened. “What has happened?”

“It is all my fault.” The Grand Duchess shook her head. “I told her of my brother's scheme and she has become overwhelmed.”

“Where? How can I help?” Ebrisa thought perhaps she could grab Cullen and Cole.

“The royal apartments are flooded with demons. Can your blessed mark not banish them to the Fade?”

“But on my own, I-”

“There is no time!” Florianne cut her off. “I will fetch as many guards as I can find. Oh, if she dies because of me, I shall never forgive myself!”

“Yes, of course.” The mage gathered up her skirts and moved quickly through the vestibule to the unlocked family wing. She burst in and found no one. Perhaps further in? She dashed through the halls, her dance slippers clicking furiously on the marble floor as she passed empty room after empty room.

Her hand sparked and she gasped at the sudden sensation. A rift here? In the Winter Palace? The demons did need to get through somehow, but how did Florianne know if the tear was just now opening? Ebrisa followed the pull on her hand and threw open the doors to an inner yard, staring at the glowing split in the air below her.

She heard a bow being drawn and whipped around to find the Grand Duchess glaring at her down the shaft of an arrow. “You were not supposed to be here tonight, but your hand will make an excellent gift for Corypheus.”

Ebrisa's eyes widened in realization. “Its you. The Tevinter assassin is Orlesian royalty?” Florianne released arrows in rapid succession, knocking the Herald back as they struck until she fell backwards over the railing and landed with a heavy thud to the courtyard below.

Hawke had been too preoccupied by the Venatori to notice Ebrisa open the door above them, but when she hit the ground with arrows jutting from her chest, the Inquisitor could see nothing else. “Herald... how... what?!”

“Sunshine... shit,” Varric mumbled.

“Inquisitor, welcome to the real party.” Florianne grinned widely, the fighting pausing as she spoke. “To think I can destroy so many enemies in one evening. Master Corypheus will be truly thrilled.”

Hawke made a move for Ebrisa, but was kept back by the Venatori. “You power hungry bitch. Why serve something that wants to destroy Orlais?”

“How small you think. This is about far more than Orlais.” Florianne paced the balcony and gloated profusely. The destruction of the empire from within was indeed unexpected, but that didn't make it an any less terrible scheme. The Fade rift opened further and demons slipped out as Florianne smiled and made her exit.

Hawke plowed over the warriors in her way with a furious roar as she rushed to Ebrisa's side. The Herald was still breathing. Good. The Inquisitor growled and attacked the enemy with full force. “She's alive! Take these bastards down so we can help her!” She shouted to the others.

Solas was quick to cast a barrier over the unconscious mage to keep her from further harm as Varric and Iron Bull fenced in the Venatori and demons. They cleared the courtyard of enemies and untied a swearing Fereldan, but stared up at the glowing tear uneasily. The elf hurried to Ebrisa's side and was startled to find no obvious blood. He grabbed an arrow and withdrew it quickly from her chest, tearing the fabric of her dress and revealing an angry welt, but nothing more. The metal arrow head had melted against her skin, failing to pierce the flesh.

Solas removed the remaining shafts to much the same result. “This is strange, but fortunate. The arrows did little more than knock her off the balcony. It was the fall that harmed her.” He pulled Ebrisa into a sitting position and checked her bleeding head quickly. “She will be fine, but we do not have the time to let her wake on her own.”

“Right. Florianne could strike at any moment.” Hawke moved in front of the Herald and winced. “Sorry about this...” She reared back her hand and slapped Ebrisa across the face, jostling the mage awake. “No time for breakfast, sleepy head, we got work to do.”

Ebrisa blinked several time and held her head. “The Grand Duchess said... there were demons?”

“Yep.” Hawke pulled her to her feet. “Took care of those already, but if you don't close this thing, more will come through.”

“I... of course.” Ebrisa shook her head and tried to find her balance. She connected to the rift and slammed it shut, wobbling backwards as it closed. The mage held her head again, trying to stop the throbbing.

“Sorry, but we are on a time crunch.” Hawke looked behind her at Gaspard's mercenary captain. “You coming with?”

“If its all the same, I'd prefer to stay here and register what happened. I'll say whatever you need me too.” He sat down heavily on the ground.

“Fair enough, but the Herald is with us. Bull?”

“On it, Boss.” The qunari hoisted Ebrisa over his shoulder, holding her fluffy dress down with his arm.

“What? Set me down!” Ebrisa squeaked. “I can walk, I assure you.”

“That may be true,” Varric shrugged. “But I'm afraid we need to run.”

The group tore through the building, fighting Florianne's lackeys as they went and Ebrisa feeling like a literal burden. She held onto Bull's harness strap tightly as he fought one-handed and was able to keep his flank well protected, as it was all she could see of battles.

“This is actually kind of fun!” Iron Bull grinned, kicking back an enemy.

“I beg of you, do not get any ideas,” Ebrisa shrieked as he nearly dropped her.

“But we're so efficient!”

“Ser Iron Bull, please!” The mage groaned, getting dizzy but still managing to shoot fire at the sneaking harlequins. Her shoes and mask had fallen off sometime ago and Ebrisa felt a pang of guilt at the loss.

“Okay, this should be it.” Hawke panted, hearing clear signs of the ballroom on the other side of the double door. “Set her down, Bull. The party awaits.”

The qunari returned Ebrisa to the floor as Varric unlocked the door. Bull held back a snicker as he looked the mage over and hurried up the steps. Ebrisa watched him go curiously and steadily made her way up the stairs.

“Where have you been? The empress is about to make her speech,” Cullen quickly explained as Hawke returned to the ballroom. “Whatever you're going to do, you better do it now.”

“Oh, I got this.” Hawke rested her massive blade against a pillar and grinned. “Time to show the Grand Duchess what its really like to dance with me.”

“What?” Cullen watched her go, completely lost.

“She's going to talk? Her?” Josephine turned away, exasperated, and let out a startled shriek, which she quickly muffled.

Cullen spun around and froze.

“Oh, sorry about this.” Iron Bull scratched his head. “The little lady was attacked and we were in a hurry to get back.” He patted Cullen on the shoulder. “Just a little worse for wear, but she'll be fine.”

Ebrisa's hair had mostly fallen down with lose pins dangling in her locks. Her cheek was still slightly pink from Hawke's slap and her chest was flushed from the arrows. Her bodice had been shredded in numerous places, increasing the exposed skin to a fairly inappropriate level. She regarded Cullen and Josephine curiously before gasping herself.

“Oh, I must look a fright!” She tried to smooth out her dirty and disheveled skirts. “I'm so sorry, Lady Montilyet, the gown. You worked so hard on it.”

“Forget about the dress, are you alright?” Cullen ushered her to a bench. “You were attacked?”

“I... yes.” Ebrisa held her head. “The Grand Duchess said the Inquisitor needed me, then she... she shot me?” She slipped her hand to her chest, searching for wounds, then looked down and blushed at the amount of cleavage she now sported. Ebrisa covered herself with her hands and cleared her throat. “I remember being struck. Her arrows hit me. Then I... fell?” She shook her head. “Perhaps one of the others can tell you. I seem to be having trouble.”

“Josephine, take these.” Cullen thrust his sash, belt, and gloves at the ambassador and began to unfasten his jacket. Josephine hid her smile behind the small pile in her hands as Cullen draped the garment over Ebrisa's shoulders and knelt in front of the mage. “You are certain you are unharmed?”

Ebrisa held the dress jacket close, taking in his lingering body heat. “My head hurts, but that's likely from Ser Iron Bull running with me over his shoulder.” She shook her head. “So bouncy.”

The commander reached out and touched the back of her neck gently, sliding up her disheveled hair until she grimaced. “If you keep hitting your hitting your head like this, your options for hairdos will decrease drastically.”

She laughed lightly and Cullen smiled. “Is it bad?” She asked slowly.

“Not much more blood than before, but you definitely took a hit.” Cullen sighed. “Where did you say you fell from?”

“The second story balcony, and rather solidly too.” Solas frowned as he approached. “There was not time to mend it then, but if I may?”

“Please do, Master Solas,” Ebrisa sighed. The headaches were only getting worse.

The elf nodded. “It will, of course, be much easier without the commander holding you.”

“Oh!” Cullen withdrew his hand and stood to get out of the way. He looked around, suddenly feeling awkward in his plain shirt. “Where is the Inquisitor?”

“She is speaking with Celene, Gaspard, and Briala on the balcony.” Leliana smirked as she approached. “I take it you missed her verbally disarm Florianne a moment ago? It was quite impressive.”

“She did what?” Josephine nearly dropped Cullen's things.

“You would have been proud, Josie.” Leliana took in the Herald curiously. “Are you... in your stockings, your worship?”

“I'm sorry, Sister Leliana. We were in a hurry and my shoes just slipped off.”

The Orlesian sighed. “A pity. I had hoped to borrow those.”

Empress Celene and Hawke addressed the room proclaiming trials ahead, but victories both that night and for the dark days to come. A cheer erupted across the crowd and the music started up again as if there had never been a plot of regicide. In the end, Hawke found Gaspard too set on restoring Orlais' past glory and she could not allow a future war to break out with Fereldan. Celene was a master of the Game, but she sought peace and stability for her people.

Cullen made the rounds with the Inquisition members, taking their initial reports now that the operation had ended. Surely Hawke would be by any moment to tell everyone to pack it up and leave - her love for the nobility's antics was as small as his. He stood on an empty balcony and looked at the quiet sky, waiting.

“Cullen?”

He turned to the uncertain voice behind him and stilled. Ebrisa's entire bodice was gone and replaced with blue wrappings across her chest secured with her Inquisition clasp and leaving her arms bare. The dirtied red skirt had been removed, exposing the entirety of her glittering champagne dress under the still present corset. Her hair had been brushed and tied off in a loose braid down her back.

“Lady Montilyet said I should return your jacket, since she managed to cover me up.” Ebrisa held out the red finery, still embarrassed. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Oh, of course.” Cullen slid it back on and secured the fastenings. He paused. “Is that my sash on your...?”

The mage touched her chest lightly. “My own wasn't enough and Sister Leliana said you wouldn't mind.”

“I'm sure she did,” he mumbled. They stood quietly on the balcony as music drifted through the air. The Herald closed her eyes and listened, her face serene as she swayed ever so slightly.

“Ebrisa...” Cullen began softly.

“I found them!” Cole appeared suddenly, smiling widely.

“Ser Cole, I was joking,” Ebrisa laughed. “You didn't have to go look for my shoes.”

“But your feet would hurt.” He shook his head and handed her the jeweled shoes. “Dancing slippers for dancing, but they slipped off. It used both parts of its name.”

“Yes, thank you.” Ebrisa smiled. “I guess Sister Leliana can borrow them after all.”

Cole turned to Cullen, then back to the mage. “Oh, I see.” Then he slipped away.

“That boy makes less sense each time he speaks,” Cullen sighed.

Ebrisa dropped a shoe to the ground and tried to maneuver her foot inside, but kept kicking it around instead. She huffed in annoyance as she tried to balance on one foot and line up the slanted shoe. Cullen chuckled as she held her arms to the side and teetered. When she lurched forward suddenly, kicking the shoe out from under her skirts, nearly falling over, Cullen could watch no longer.

“Alright, enough acrobatics.” He retrieved the slipper and directed Ebrisa to the railing. “Grab on there.”

“Oh, I suppose that would help...” she sheepishly crossed the balcony and tested her balance with the support.

Cullen knelt before her. “Foot.”

“What?”

He looked up at her and waved the dance slipper. “Your foot? For your shoe?”

“O...oh.” Ebrisa looked away and held out her foot.

“Could you, um,” Cullen blushed and coughed. “Could you move your dress a little?”

“Yes, right.” The mage squeaked and lifted her skirts, exposing the torn stocking running up her calf.

It was more leg than he expected to see, but Cullen set his head down and slid the shoe into place. He held up a hand and Ebrisa set the other slipper in his grasp. She switched legs and was soon back in her impractical footwear.

“You can lower your skirt now,” Cullen rubbed his neck.

“Oh.” Ebrisa released the fabric. “You can... stand up now.”

“Of course,” Cullen awkwardly rose to his feet, but didn't back away. They stood close to one another in silence, neither knowing what to say or do.

“Whaaaaaat? The last dance is going to start soon?” Varric said rather loudly from just inside the doorway, enunciating each word.

“Tragic, isn't it?” Dorian replied in the same exaggerated way. “The evening is almost over.”

Cullen watched the sadness take over Ebrisa's face as she looked away, trying to hide her disappointment. He would really need to talk with the dwarf and Tevinter about spying later, but for now he took a few steps back and bowed to Ebrisa. “May I have this dance, my dear Lady Trevelyan?”

The mage's eyes widened and her heart fluttered. “Yes! Of course!” She smiled brightly and curtsied. “Honorable Commander Rutherford.”

Cullen took her hand and lead her back inside the ballroom and straight to the dance floor. Nobles whispered as they got into position, but nothing could stop the radiant smile on Ebrisa's face. Luckily, the final dance was a slower one they had rehearsed back in Skyhold and he didn't have to worry about embarrassing her as they began.

“I thought you didn't want to dance.” Ebrisa said softly as they moved over the floor. “When I asked you earlier, you...”

Cullen groaned. “I had been asked dozens of times by then, my response was automatic. I didn't realize it was you asking.”

Ebrisa seemed confused. “You didn't recognize me?”

“Josephine wouldn't tell me what you would be wearing and I was woefully unprepared for how you looked.”

The mage lowered her eyes. “I suppose the dress did make me look like all the others.”

Cullen chuckled. “If all the others looked like you, they wouldn't wear masks all the time.”

Ebrisa met his gaze quickly and blushed. “What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head. “Maker's Breath, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?” The mage took in a shuddering breath as Cullen looked at her again. “You must know you are beautiful, but tonight you were absolutely stunning.”

All sound seemed to fade away save the pounding of her heart as Ebrisa looked at the man holding her. He was blushing slightly and smiling softly. He had meant it. He thought she was beautiful. Cullen's expression switch to one of concern.

“Ebrisa? What is it? I'm not very good at this. Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head, sending the tears cascading down her cheeks. “Absolutely not.” She giggled softly. “You looked more dashing than usual this evening. It's no wonder you were constantly surrounded.”

Cullen blushed further and tried to roll his eyes. “Now you're making fun of me? And I was being so genuine.”

“As was I.”

Blackwall leaned on the railing and watched the pair dance with a small grin on his face. The Herald was practically glowing as Cullen lead her around and the warden felt something well up inside him. It was almost like pride and another emotion he hadn't felt for a very long time, not since...

He stilled as realization struck him and the connection he felt with the Herald finally made sense to him. Master Dennet had been only slightly off the mark.

“Wishing it was you?” Hawke asked hesitantly as she moved to stand beside the warden.

Blackwall chuckled and kept watching. “I'm not much for dancing.”

“Cullen said the same thing, but look at them go.” The Inquisitor sighed. “At least I only had to do it once.”

“Well it was a pretty crucial one, Inquisitor. Second most important dance this evening.”

“Second?”

Blackwall motioned to pair below. “Have you ever seen my lady more happy? She's been waiting for this for a while, I'd say.”

Hawke hummed thoughtfully and had to admit Ebrisa's smile was nearly blinding. “I have never known a person to get more excited about dancing and dresses than her. How has she not stepped on her skirt all night?” She sighed and shook her head. “Dresses are so impractical.”

“So does that mean we won't be graced by the lady Inquisitor in a skirt any time soon?” Blackwall laughed quietly.

“Hardly.” Hawke smirked.

The warden turned to her with a sly grin. “Well I'm sad to hear that. It would be quite the sight.”

“A person should know their limits, be it in battle or what types of clothing they can wear without looking ridiculous.” She muttered.

“Most people do look ridiculous in Orlesian fashions, I think that's intentional at this point, actually.” Blackwall looked back at the dance floor. “But I happen to think you'd look rather fetching in a simple dress.”

The music ended and the dancers bowed to their partners. Cullen knew the others were watching and that he would be heckled no matter what, so he held onto Ebrisa a moment longer and kissed the back of her hand before rising. Her eyes widened and face reddened, but she could find no words as they left the dance floor.

They nearly bumped into Hawke and Blackwall as they stepped off the stairs, the dancers not entirely focused. The Inquisitor was blushing and jumped at the seemingly sudden arrival of the pair. “Uh, hey.”

Cullen looked between the fighters and smirked. “Good party, Inquisitor?”

“Yup.” Hawke coughed. “What about you, Herald?”

Ebrisa beamed brightly. “The best.”

Chapter Text

Skyhold was a refreshing sight to behold after the gilded shenanigans in Halamshiral. Sure, the lady ladies had a grand time and the Herald seemed to have a permanent smile on her face, but the Inquisitor couldn't have left the whole affair fast enough. While Hawke did enjoy some luxuries, she was a small town girl at heart and found little joy in big parties stuffed with, well, stuffy nobles.

She walked through the yard, basking in the sounds of training and feeling at home. There was a priest waving her hands around in front of Josephine and Hawke sighed. It was always something.

“Ah, my Lady Inquisitor!”

The revered mother had seen her. Damn.

“Yes, what is it?” Hawke groaned, but came over anyways.

“With the political turmoil at rest, we can finally address the real issue – who will be the next Divine.” The priest said desperately. “We can not answer that without the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia V.”

“As I've tried to explain,” Josephine straightened her back. “We can not part with Seeker Pentaghast or Sister Leliana.”

“But why do you need them?” Hawke folded her arms and tilted her head. “Aren't you ladies supposed to pick the next Divine? What could they possibly do to help?”

“It is not that we need them to select candidates, they are candidates.” The priest sighed.

The Inquisitor rolled her eyes. “I thought they were heretics.”

“That was spoken in a moment of fear. You have shown us how wrong we were, my lady.”

Hawke shook her head. “I'm sorry, but Cassandra and Leliana are both key members of the Inquisition. I can not spare them while the clergy tiptoe around making decisions.” She turned to walk away.

“What of the Herald of Andraste?”

She turned right back around. “Come again?”

“The Lady Herald is also a candidate,” the Revered Mother explained. “True, she has no formal Chantry training and her being a mage did cause some initial... trepidation, but the nobility and templars speak of her in such high regard. Surely, you believe her to be a faithful servant of the light.”

Hawke blinked and looked at Josephine. “I do not deny the Herald is perhaps the most spiritual person I've met, but we need her.”

“She has already healed the sky,” the priest urged softly. “Let her now heal the faithful.”

The Inquisitor stood silently for a long while. “We can not spare any of these women, but it is ultimately their own choice.” She looked into the revered mother's eyes. “Go and discuss with your sisters. Should the world not have ended by the time you make a real decision, I will let the candidates answer for themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I've got two words for my publisher. You and bastard.” Varric folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “He keeps insisting that my novels don't sell in Orlais, but I had nobles asking for my autograph the entire ball.”

“What are your books about?” Ebrisa tilted her head.

The dwarf frowned, nearly pouting. “You mean you haven't read any of my stories? The Dasher's Men? Darktown Deals? The Viper's Nest? Hard in Hightown? Sword and Shields? The Tale of the Champion?!”

The mage winced and looked away. “No, sorry, I haven't. They didn't carry much... leisurely reading material in the Circle's library.”

“Don't tell me all you've read are boring old historical and educational reference material. There's a whole world of fiction out there for you!” Varric covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine... this can not stand. I'll get in touch with my bastard publisher and have a copy of everything sent here at once for you, alright?”

Ebrisa smiled awkwardly. “I hope I haven't offended you, Master Varric.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, its not like you could have taken a stroll out of the Circle to the local book shop to pick up a copy. You are forgiven.”

A runner bogged down with letters stopped at the table by the fireplace and set a stack in front of Varric. “Merchant's Guild. Again.”

Varric casually slid the pile across the table with the back of his hand until the letters spilled to the floor. “Thanks.”

The runner sighed. He was responsible for delivering messages, not ensuring they were read. The man sifted through the stack in his arms and pulled out two more letters. “Here you are, your worship.” He set them on the table and dipped his head before rushing off to continue his tasks.

Ebrisa opened the first letter and read it over, not quite sure what to make of it. Her face twisted into such confusion that Varric couldn't help but ask. “What's the matter, Sunshine? The handwriting too sloppy?”

“No, its a request for more information on my lineage and current private affairs... from a Lord Moremere...” She looked up towards the ceiling. “I think I recall meeting him at the Winter Palace. We danced a few times and he spoke a lot about how lonely he was since his wife's passing...” She looked back at the letter and tilted her head. “If he had questions, he could have asked them then.”

Varric chuckled knowingly. “I hear the commander has gotten a few of those, too.”

“A few of what?” Ebrisa wasn't any more clear on what was going on, but she was unfamiliar with many aspects of adult politics.

“Tell you what, why don't you go ask Ruffles to explain it to you.”

The mage nodded slowly and walked away, still trying to figure out the letter's intent. There was a strange, panicked noise coming from the balcony but when she turned to face it there was no one there. Shrugging it off as an odd echo, she knocked softly on the ambassador's door. Finding it wasn't latched, she pushed it open and stepped inside with the intention of leaving a note with the letter for Josephine to inspect at her leisure.

She shrieked in surprise as a bucket of water fell on top of her, dumping its contents before bouncing off her head. Ebrisa stood in the doorway, more than a little confused, the ink on the wet letter running into intelligible black streams.

“My lady! Is everything alright?” Josephine and Cullen hurried over from the stairwell at the cry and paused as she slowly turned around.

Ebrisa's head and chest were soaked and she looked like she wanted to run off and hide. “I... I was... there was this letter, and... um... a bucket... on the door...” She trembled in embarrassment as she stood before them awkwardly. Her white blouse clung desperately to her skin, revealing the color of her flesh underneath through its newly acquired transparent nature.

Josephine held the mage gently by the shoulders and looked her over. “Oh dear. I think I know who is responsible for this. I shall take care of it – believe me.” She sighed and shook her head. “Commander, would you please escort the Herald to her room so she can change?”

Cullen couldn't help but stare.

“Commander.” Josephine elbowed him and shot him a disapproving look.

“Oh, um, yes. Of course.” He coughed and tore his eyes away, face burning. “Let's cut though my office.” He motioned Ebrisa forward and tried to walk in front of her to block others from seeing her as much as possible.

Varric stifled his laughter quite well as they walked past and pretended to be engrossed in his papers. He wasn't sure which was funnier: the dripping mage, or the blushing commander. After a few minuets, Hawke and Sera tried to exit the stairwell as nonchalantly as possible, quietly arguing with eachother.

“Folks need to see she's people too...” Sera folded her arms and frowned, trying to convince herself as much as Hawke.

“You have to admit, the Herald didn't deserve that. That wasn't meant for her,” Hawke whispered back.

“Was supposed to be funny.” The elf dropped her arms. “It just felt mean.”

The pair had almost made it to freedom when they felt the angry presence. “You!” Josephine shouted from across the hall, louder than anyone thought possible from her.

“Oh frig,” Sera stilled and darted her eyes to Hawke. “You did it!” Then she ran off as fast as her slender legs could carry her, leaving the Inquisitor behind to suffer the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hot and dark, like a world made of fire and shadow, and it was becoming familiar. Cullen walked through the rocky, smoke-filled space as he had every night since Celene's masquerade as it was the only thing to do. No matter which direction he went or how fast, she always found him.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Ah. There she was.

Cullen stayed in place as the figure walked slowly behind him.

“You know it will end badly, like everything you do. You know it can't happen, not really.” Ebrisa glared up at him as she came into view, red gown trailing behind her. “You only hurt her by acting this way.”

The commander narrowed his eyes at the figure. “I'm not doing anything.”

Ebrisa laughed deeply in her chest, loose hair rolling against her back like golden fire. “Aren't you?” She shoved Cullen in the chest, sending him back a few steps. “She is not a play thing for you to toy with when bored. She does not understand. I do.”

“I'm not playing with her. I have never lied to her.”

“Not lying and being honest are not the same thing,” Ebrisa hissed angrily. “You know she loves you and that she can't love you, yet you persist in getting her hopes up. That is toying with her.”

Cullen shook his head. “I don't know that. She has never expressed any feelings towards me.”

Ebrisa rolled her eyes. “You expect her to come out and say it? Frail little thing would rather break than force her feelings on another.” She looked down, saddened for a moment. “She does not know how to process love. She is starved for it.” Ebrisa raised up her eyes, the anger returned. “You are taking advantage of that. You had it correct before – she is not for you, templar.”

“I am not a templar anymore,” he growled. “Demon.”

“You think not taking lyrium erases the mages you condemned to death? That by leaving the Order you are absolved of the battle at the Gallows?” Ebrisa turned away in disgust. “You bring ruin with you, templar. You can not love her, not truly. She is just a mage in your eyes.” She turned around to level a final glare. “You will kill her.”

~~~~~~~~~~

To go from the beauty of Halamshiral to the desolate, war-torn lands of the Exalted Plains sent Ebrisa's mind reeling. Though Gaspard had been defeated and the civil war was over, the soldiers were still fighting. They had pulled back, yes, but the news never reached them that Celene was now indisputably in charge. The soldier deaths weakened the fragile Veil and demons slipped through easily, wandering unchecked across the burning landscape.

A group of deserters tried to start a revolution in the midst of the fighting with Venatori aide. They used dark magic to resurrect corpses, taking over camps and attacking both armies. They decided the best time to start a war was during a war because they didn't want to fight in a war? Ebrisa didn't pretend to understand, so she kept quiet and did what she was told. Hawke needed the extra muscle, so she took Iron Bull with her to more dangerous areas and left the Herald at safe spots as before. Ebrisa didn't mind. The sight of the Dales saddened her.

They encountered a group of Dalish and Hawke left Ebrisa in their care as she tried to gain favor with them to allow recruitment by searching for a missing mage of theirs. The keeper did not trust anything to do with the Chantry and refused to let the Herald too far into their camp. She couldn't blame the man, to be honest, and did her best to stay out of their way. She wandered away from the camp, following a small group of halla towards the river. There was a beautiful, yet old, structure set amongst the trees and she felt drawn to it.

Upon entering the open yard, Ebrisa realized it was a burial site of some sort and – more startling – that demons meandered across the area. They saw her and moved to attack. She whipped out her staff and raised a barrier over the entrance, refusing to allow the Dalish or halla to be harmed because of her. The demons were weak and the mage managed to defeat them on her own with only a little difficulty. She dropped the magic wall and replaced her weapon, slowly approaching a burial mound. Ebrisa knew some of the legends and stories of the Dalish elves, but little of their real practices and she feared she might have desecrated the area by simply entering. She began to clear the stones of weeds and fallen leaves in an attempt to correct her mistake, saying one of the few elvish phrases she knew over each grave once she finished.

The mage left the burial site and sat down on a boulder to watch the herd of halla drink at the river bank. It was peaceful and she tried not to think of the devastation that lay on the other side of the woods. A halla approached her curiously and Ebrisa smiled, holding out her hand low to the creature. It came closer and she gently stroked its nose like she did for Rufous after missions.

“I thought I might have scared you, since I'm human, but I guess you don't see things like that.” She patted its neck and tilted her head. “Your color is a little different from the others. Do they still play nice?” The halla nudged her hand and she laughed lightly. “Alright. Less talking, more petting.”

A familiar shouting voice cut through the air and Ebrisa shot up. “The Inquisitor is back. Oh, why didn't I stay put?” She hurried back down the path to the camp.

“I said we would keep your chanter safe, I did not say we would babysit her.” The keeper spat.

“How is letting her walk off alone keeping her safe?” Hawke snapped.

“I'm sorry, I'm fine.” Ebrisa held up her hands and stepped between the two. “I didn't want to be in the way, so I just went down the path a bit.”

The Inquisitor sighed heavily as a hunter whispered to the keeper. “Guess I do need to leave Bull with you after all.”

“Nothing happened, Inquisitor.” Ebrisa felt like a child getting scolded.

The keeper looked at her curiously. “It would appear that is untrue. You went in our sacred burial grounds.”

“Yes, I'm sorry.” The mage looked down. “I didn't realize what it was at first.”

“You dispatched of the demons that defiled it.”

“I didn't want them to get to the herd,” she mumbled hesitantly.

“You...” The keeper looked at the hunter again, who nodded. “You cleaned the grave stones and said something over each. An Andrastian prayer?”

Ebrisa felt foolish.”No, I fear that would have done more harm than good. I said Ir abelas, or tried to, at least...”

“For a shem, that was-” the keeper began.

Ebrisa jumped at a strange pull on her hair and spun around to find the halla from before nibbling at the strands. “Hey now, that's not very nice.” She frowned at the animal, but rubbed its neck affectionately. “There are easier ways to get my attention, you know.” The mage stilled and turned back to the group, the Dalish staring in disbelief. Ebrisa quickly removed her hands and backed away, the halla following her and nudging her arm. “I shouldn't have touched, right? Its disrespectful? I'm sorry.”

Solas chuckled and shook his head.

“You brought the golden halla here. It... it trusted you?” The keeper finally managed to say.

“It was a good thing?” Ebrisa asked slowly.

“Yes, Herald,” the elder chuckled as he dipped his head in approval. “You have done many good things.”

Chapter Text

During the return journey, Ebrisa had spoken quietly with Solas about her desire to understand the forces of the Fade to better control the mark and how finding proper reading material was proving rather difficult. She expected him to suggest some tomes, but instead the elf offered to instruct her on the matter himself. Ebrisa was more than surprised and didn't even attempt to hide it - surely he had better things to do with his time then tutor her. Solas assured her it was no trouble at all and would begin devising a study schedule for her within the week. He actually seemed rather excited about the task.

Ebrisa helped lead the mounts to the stables once they returned to Skyhold. Dennet didn't mind her assisting, but still yelled at the actual stable hands if they let the woman do everything alone. She closed the pen behind the last mount and turned to leave, but a white horse caught her attention. Ebrisa approached it slowly, eyes wide as she raised her hand and gently stroked the blue-gray diamond on its nose.

“I see you've noticed our guest.” Dennet came up beside her. “Belongs to some noblewoman. Just arrived a bit ago.”

“Hymphrey,” Ebrisa mumbled in disbelief.

“What?” The horse master frowned.

Ebrisa tore across the yard and into the main hall. If Hymphrey was there, then that meant -

She halted before Josephine's door and straightened her hair and armor, trying to make herself as presentable as possible.

“You had no right to present her at the Winter Palace!” A female voice said sharply on the other side of the door.

“With all due respect, my lady, we gave you plenty of time to respond to our inquiries.” The ambassador sounded almost angry.

The woman sighed in exasperation. “And now the world knows that we have produced a... a mage.” She was quiet for a moment, as if needing time to cleanse the word from her tongue.

Ebrisa took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Lady Montilyet?”

“Yes, enter,” Josephine tore her eyes away from the guest and smiled at the Herald as she entered the room.

“I saw my mother's horse. Master Dennet said she just arrived?” Ebrisa looked at the guest hopefully.

The woman turned around, causing her dress to swish but not a dark hair to budge from its tightly woven bun. She smiled pleasantly. “Ebrisa, how you've grown.”

“Mother.” Ebrisa crossed the room and took the woman's hands, dipping in a slight curtsey. She was older, her face harsher than in the mage's dreams and something felt off, but it was undoubtedly her elegant mother. “I can't believe you came all the way here, and with Hymphrey.”

“You know he's the only horse I'll ride.” Lady Trevelyan waved her hand in the air. “You've made quite the impression in Orlais, it seems. We have been absolutely swimming in letters about you. Now, stand back, let me see you.”

Ebrisa did as instructed and kept her smile as her mother scrutinized her. “You look a mess, child. Perhaps the credit goes to your ball gown.” The mage darted her eyes away, but stood still, the smile slipping.

“The lady Herald has only just returned from a mission in the Exalted Plains.” Josephine cut in. “The road is a long one.”

Lady Trevelyan hummed, seemingly unconvinced.

“Look, all I'm saying is that if we improve the training yard then they will fight better and won't get as injured.” Hawke threw open the door. “So we wouldn't need to upgrade the infirmary.”

Cullen sighed and shook his head. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Well there isn't room for both and she is in charge.” Leliana smirked. Josephine cleared her throat and the three stopped, noticing the stranger.

“Lady Inquisitor Hawke, Sister Leliana, Cul-” Ebrisa paused. “Commander Cullen. Allow me to introduce Lady Galatea Lanmour Trevelyan, my honorable mother.” Galatea curtsied to the group, one hand holding out the skirt of her embroidered dress and the other perched delicately at her side.

“Welcome to Skyhold.” Hawke nodded. “I didn't know we were expecting guests.”

“Yes, I should have sent word ahead.” Lady Trevelyan touched her hand to her cheek. “It was all rather sudden, I'm afraid.”

“Not at all.” Leliana smiled knowingly. “I'm sure you have something important to discuss with us.”

“That is true.” She turned to her daughter. “Ebrisa, child, go get cleaned up before your hair stays that way.”

“Yes, Mother,” Ebrisa dipped into a small curtsey. “By your leave.” Galatea waved her off and the mage left, Cullen regarding the exchange curiously.

Lady Trevelyan waited for the door to click closed before turning to the Inquisitor. “As you guessed, the rest of the family did not know Ebrisa is a mage. There hasn't been a Trevelyan mage for countless generations and they kept it that way through careful marriage selections and strong faith. As far as anyone knows, my daughter went to serve the Chantry.”

Cullen didn't know if he was more surprised by what the woman said or the fact that the others were unphased.

“But she is a mage,” Hawke cut in. “And your secret is blown.”

“I did what was best for Ebrisa,” Galatea sighed. “She would have been disowned by the family and myself accused of adultery. It was better to hide it and slip her off to a Circle.”

“Yes,” Leliana tilted her head. “Better for her, I'm sure.”

Lady Trevelyan narrowed her eyes slightly. “Let me ask. This mark that allowed my daughter to fix the sky, could it have been wielded by a non-mage?”

“We are uncertain,” Josephine began slowly. “It has never happened before, but it is a direct connection to the Fade. If someone without a previous connection received the mark, it is possible the strain on their body would be too much. But there is no way to know.”

“So then the Maker made her a mage after she joined the cloister.” The noble paced the floor. “He saw the purity in her heart as she recited the Chant and made her ready to receive the blessed mark so she could serve Him as no other.”

“That's what you're going to tell everyone?” Hawke raised a brow.

“No, its what you will tell them.” Lady Trevelyan lifted her head. “If you do not make this claim, I will be forced to denounce her heritage. My child went to the Conclave as a sister and died along with so many. A tragedy.”

“You don't actually expect us to do that, do you?” Cullen turned to Hawke and felt something akin to betrayal as the Inquisitor held out her hand to the noble.

“Lady Trevelyan, we accept, under one condition.” Hawke stared into the older woman's cold eyes. “You need to tell us exactly what you did to hide your daughter's nature. In writing. Signed.”

Galatea shook Hawke's hand. “I shall stay a few days. You will have it before I depart.” She sighed and looked around. “Now, if someone could direct me to my guest room?”

“Of course, Lady Trevelyan. Follow me.” The ambassador lead the noble out the door.

“What the hell was that?” Cullen turned angrily to the women. “What did she mean that you knew?”

Leliana sighed and explained their concerns from Haven. “She went to great lengths to protect herself from scandal.”

“And I'm going to find out exactly what those were.” Hawke folded her arms. “Its obvious this woman is not making an idle threat and would definitely follow through. Can you imagine what that would do to the Herald? She'd be devastated, to say the least. We can decide later what to tell her.”

“Why not just tell her the truth?” Cullen was still dumbfounded that he was only now learning all this.

“What? Tell the Herald that Mom has been ashamed of her practically her entire life?” Hawke shook her head. “There is no good way to say something like that.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa returned to the main hall, clean, wearing one of her more elaborate dresses, and sporting a bit of make up. She felt foolish to have not done this first, but her excitement at seeing her mother overwhelmed her common sense.

Cullen and Hawke walked into the hall, having finished the debriefing, and were quietly arguing with one another. “Look, it is what it is, okay? We didn't create the situation.” Hawke snapped. “All we can do is roll with it.”

“Excuse me, Lady Inquisitor?” Ebrisa interrupted once they were close. “Have you seen my mother?”

Hawke paused. “Oh, yeah. I'll go get her.” She leveled an eye at Cullen before leaving for the guest rooms.

“Wait, Sunshine, is that you?” Varric got out of his seat and walked around the Herald. “Didn't recognize you all dressed up like that. The commander taking you somewhere nice?”

Cullen and Ebrisa both blushed. “What?” The mage squeaked. “No, no, my mother is visiting and I was going to show her around Skyhold.”

“Besides, we're in the mountains. There is no where nice around here.” Cullen added as he looked away. Varric smirked. Was that the only issue with his comment?

“Oh, yes, much better.” Lady Trevelyan sighed as she entered the hall. Ebrisa straightened and her mother once again scrutinized her. “Hmm. I see Orlesians still enjoy exaggerating. You certainly won't be giving sweet Aurelia a challenge any time soon.” She laughed playfully behind her hand.

The mage lowered her eyes to try and mask the hurt. “Is sister doing well?”

“Naturally. We've just accepted an engagement for her with a noble from Starkhaven.” Galatea shook her head. “Finally, a worthy match. Now then, tell me, have you been keeping up with your studies? I heard you danced somewhat competently at the Winter Palace. What of needlepoint and the harp?” She ushered the mage outside.

“I haven't had access to a real harp for many years, I'm afraid,” Ebrisa timidly replied, shame evident in her voice.

“That just won't do. I'll see one is sent here immediately.”

Hawke, Cullen, and Varric watched the Trevelyans go with a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“Yikes. She's a real piece of work.” Varric grumbled. “Gives Marchers a bad name.”

“Is it me, or did she just call the Herald ugly and praise her sister in one breath?” Hawke felt dirty. “Its no wonder the Herald thinks so little of herself. Can you imagine growing up with that?”

“I don't understand how someone so gentle can come from such a spiteful person.” Cullen stared out the door at the vanishing pair. He had seen the smile deteriorate and the sadness take hold of Ebrisa as her mother said she wasn't good enough. She was trying so hard to make her family proud in practically everything she did. Ebrisa just wanted them to accept her, to love her.

She is starved for it.

Cullen shook his head.

“Gentle, caring, selfless, devote.” Hawke sighed. “No wonder she's in the running for the Sunburst throne.”

“Excuse me?” Varric and Cullen turned to her suddenly.

“Oh, right, I never told them.” The Inquisitor thumped her fist against her forehead. “Damn. Knew I forgot to do something before going to Orlais. Well, Cassandra, Leliana, and the Herald are all candidates to be the next Divine. Due in large part to how great the Inquisition is.”

“Do they know?” Cullen surely would have heard something.

“I thought Josephine or Mother Giselle kind of would have told them, but since I took the Herald with me, I guess that one was my responsibility.”

“Well don't let Mommy dearest hear, or she's liable to accept on her daughter's behalf.” Varric grumbled.

“You don't think she'd make a good Divine? Seems the logical next step for the Herald of Andraste.” Hawke raised a brow at the dwarf.

“Oh, she'd be fine,” Varric relented. “But if she's Divine, she can't...” He trailed off, looking at the commander.

“Right. Didn't think about that...” Hawke also turned to the man.

“Why are you both looking at me?” Cullen folded his arms.

“Maybe we shouldn't tell Sunshine at all.” Varric continued, ignoring Cullen's question. “Poor thing might go with it simply because she thinks its expected of her. She has sacrificed herself more than once for the greater good.”

“Its ultimately her decision, isn't it?” Cullen frowned. “She deserves to know.”

“If you say so, Curly,” Varric sighed. “Just make sure she has all the information. That she knows everything.”

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for the entire Inquisition to dislike Lady Trevelyan. She acted poise and snobby as they had come to expect from any noble – actions that would normally only garner annoyance – but it was in her interactions with the Herald that set their teeth on edge. She could be heard all around Skyhold giving backhanded compliments or berating the mage for the tiniest things. Anything that was slightly amiss was Ebrisa's fault.

Sera had offered more than once to do some Jennying, but Ebrisa refused each time, horrified at the idea. The mage took it all in stride. “Mother just wants me at my best. Do not blame her for addressing my short comings.”

It seemed the only aspect Lady Trevelyan was pleased with was Ebrisa's faith and familiarity of the Chant. During one of their conversations with Mother Giselle, the priest let slip that Ebrisa was a candidate for the Sunburst Throne. Both Trevelyans were surprised, but Galatea recovered quickly.

“But she is a...” she lowered her voice. “A mage.”

Giselle laughed. “Yes, we are aware.”

“Revered Mother, wouldn't a Divine mage be ruling over mankind? The Chant explicitly states-”

“I am familiar with the Chant, my lady.” Giselle interrupted. “I am also familiar with your daughter and know that she would never abuse her magic for selfish gain. I have only ever seen her use it to protect and aide others.”

Ebrisa stared at the priest, touched by her vote of confidence.

“I am afraid I must disagree, your reverence. Mages are inherently wicked. That's why they aren't allowed into the priesthood.” Galatea placed her hands on Ebrisa's shoulders. “You may be familiar with my child, but I know her.” She lead the mage away quickly, the sisters nearby lowering their eyes to avoid confronting the woman as she prattled on to her daughter.

“Amazing what sorts of people they let slip by in the clergy these days,” Galatea huffed as they entered the main hall. “I'm going to need some time to reflect on the Chant and recenter. Why don't you return to your room as well, child.”

“Of course, Mother...” Ebrisa murmured as the woman left. The mage walked across the yard and up the corner stairs, trying to justify what her mother had said.

“Ebrisa? What is it?”

She raised her vacant eyes and looked around. “Oh. Wrong room,” she whispered. She turned to leave the commander's office, but he caught her hand.

“Are you alright?”

The mage moved her lips in an attempt to smile reassuringly, but only managed to tear up. Cullen shut the door and lead her to a chair, kneeling in front of her. He was still holding her hand. “Ebrisa, what happened?”

She took a breath and after a few tries found her voice. “Mother Giselle said I am a candidate for the next Divine. She thinks I would do well.”

Cullen stiffened slightly. “Is that something you want?”

“I... I don't know.” The mage closed her eyes. “Mother said she was wrong. She said a mage would never be Divine. She said...” Ebrisa opened her eyes, tears slipping down her cheek. “Mother said I was wicked.” She brought her free hand to her eyes and leaned forward. “I didn't ask to be a mage. I've tried my best to counteract the innate evil inside me – everything I've done is to atone for this. What more do I have to do?”

Cullen squeezed her hand. “You are not wicked. You are hands down the least evil person I've ever met. Are you going to let one person determine who you are?”

“But, she's my mother.” Ebrisa looked up slowly. “She knows me.”

“No, she knew you,” Cullen corrected. “The you that was a scared little girl raised by an even more scared woman. She doesn't know how you turned that fear to faith, and that faith to compassion. She doesn't know all you are willing to sacrifice for others. She doesn't know you like we do.” He paused and lowered his voice. “She doesn't know you like I do.”

“But I've done things...” Ebrisa shook her head. “Terrible things.”

Cullen sighed. “Were you following orders or defending yourself?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment. “I didn't do it on purpose, but I...”

“Then you aren't at fault.” He cut in. “Everyone has done something they are unproud of. Everyone is haunted by mistakes. That doesn't make you wicked, that makes you a person.”

The mage looked at him, uncertain. “So, you think I would be a good Divine?”

Cullen hesitated. “I do, but I wouldn't want you to be.”

“Because I'm a mage?”

The commander rubbed his neck. “No, that's not... how do I put this?” He sighed. “If you became Divine, you'd have to leave. Its your decision if you are offered, of course, but... I'd prefer if you stayed.” He smiled sheepishly. “I'm terribly selfish. It's why I'm not in charge.”

Ebrisa laughed lightly, her heart fluttering with his awkward admission. “I thought it was duty before all else.”

“Before most else,” Cullen corrected with a smirk. “There are at least one or two things a person can be selfish about.”

“I'll try to remember that,” the Herald smiled and squeezed his hand. “I should clean up for supper.”

“Of course,” Cullen stood up, helping Ebrisa to her feet as well before releasing his grip.

“Mother leaves in the morning, so this will be her last time in the dining hall.” The mage looked down. “I was wondering if you would eat with us tonight. I... I want her to get to know you before she goes.”

They walked to Ebrisa's door as Cullen thought it over. He honestly didn't know how long he could stand to be around the noble with all he knew of her and how she mistreats her daughter, but... “This is important to you, isn't it?”

“Yes.” Ebrisa blushed and played with her fingers as Cullen unlocked her door.

“Then I will make sure to be on my best behavior.”

~~~~~

For the first night, Hawke tried her best to be a gracious host and eat supper with the Trevelyans, but her patience and feigned manners quickly faded and she left them to Josephine. The ambassador stayed for another two evenings before citing a mountain of work as an excuse and leaving them to eat alone. An entire table had been abandoned so Skyhold's residents could enjoy their meal without overhearing the Ostwick woman belittle them and their Herald.

So when Cullen made his way over to the nobles' seats for supper, it caused more than a little stir. “Good evening, Lady Trevelyan.” He dipped his head respectfully, trying to keep his promise.

“Oh, Commander.” Galatea looked up, concealing her surprise fairly well. “Will you be dining with us? I fear we have been abandoned by your comrades.”

“Yes, actually.” He sat beside the mage and smiled lightly at her. “You look lovely, Ebrisa.”

The Herald squirmed in her blue dress and blushed slightly. “I... thank you, Commander Cullen.” Her mother narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at the exchange.

“So I am told you were once Knight-Commander of Kirkwall's templars.” Galatea sliced the roasted potato on her plate into delicate pieces. “That's quiet the respectful position to give up.”

“I think it turned out rather well,” Cullen remarked as he began to fill his plate from the platters on the table. “We've accomplished much that the Templars, Seekers, Grey Wardens, and Chantry could not on their own.”

“Is that pride I detect?” Galatea raised a brow. “That's not very becoming of a templar.”

“I did leave the Order.” He tapped his fork against his plate. “When you are part of an organization that performs feats others claimed impossible, I think you're entitled to a little boasting now and again.”

Ebrisa hide a laugh behind her napkin.

“I suppose I can not deny the truth of that.” Lady Trevelyan chewed and swallowed her food silently as she sized up the man across the table. “Serving the Order is part of a proud tradition in our family. Is yours the same?”

“As far as I know, I was the first Rutherford to join.”

“I'm afraid I don't know that house,” Galatea sighed. “Fereldan is so terribly convoluted with its teryns, banns, and arls. Where do you hail from?”

“Honnleath. Its a small village south of Lake Calenhad.”

The woman stilled. “Ah. So you are of... common birth. How disappointing.”

“Mother!” Ebrisa whispered harshly without thinking, trying to come to Cullen's defense. Galatea shot her a firm look and the mage faltered slightly. “He.. he's not...”

Cullen let out a slow breath. He knew that was coming sooner or later. “I'm not sorry for my upbringing. My siblings and I had a happy childhood.”

“Siblings?” Ebrisa turned to him, forgetting her mother in a moment of genuine curiosity. “You've only mentioned an elder sister before. There are others?”

He smiled slightly at the excitement in her eyes as she looked at him expectantly. “Yes, a younger brother and sister. I hear Branson has married, so I suppose I have a sister-in-law as well.”

“You hear?” Ebrisa furrowed her brow. “You couldn't go to the wedding?”

Cullen poked at his food and shook his head. “I... may have not told my family when I transferred to Kirkwall and it took Mia some time to track me down. By then, Branson was already wed and I became the inconsiderate big brother.”

“But you made up for that with a visit, right?”

He continued to push the meat around on his plate. “I'm afraid I haven't seen them since I joined the Order...” He sighed quietly.

“But that was so long ago. You were all so young.” Ebrisa looked down at her own plate, suddenly sad. “Would they even recognize you now?”

Galatea pushed her dish forward and stood up. “I have had my fill of this meal. Ebrisa, child, walk me to my room.”

The mage rubbed at her forehead and chided herself for ignoring her mother. The whole reason she asked Cullen to eat with them was to show her that he was a good man, but she may have reinforced a negative perception instead. “Of course, Mother.” She rose from her seat and gave Cullen an apologetic look before leading her mother away, her own meal untouched.

~~~~~~~

Skyhold let out a collective sigh of relief once Lady Trevelyan was well beyond the gates and Ebrisa returned to her normal, smiling self. If Hawke didn't think her a saint before, she certainly did now for putting up with that woman. Ebrisa sat quietly in the recently renovated garden yard, filled with potted herbs for potions and tonics, and listening to a chanter. Mother Giselle had tried to comfort her for the argument the day before, but the mage smiled and explained she was just fine.

A young boy approached her curiously. “You're the Herald.”

“I am.” Ebrisa wondered if the child was a merchant's son. She'd not seen any children in Skyhold before. “My name is Ebrisa. What's yours, young man?”

“I'm Kieran. Mother says I shouldn't bother you.” The boy said softly.

“You're no bother.” The mage smiled sweetly. “In fact, I was wanting to play a game, but its no fun by myself. Would you like to join me?”

Kieran's face brightened and Ebrisa giggled at the nonverbal answer. “I'm afraid I don't have the tools I need for most games I know, but what about hopscotch?”

“How do you play?”

She looked around and grabbed a stick and a flat rock. “Are you good at standing on one foot?” Kieran nodded as she stood. “Then you will do great.” She drew a simple row of boxes in the dirt and numbered them. “Its easy, if you have good balance.” She demonstrated the game and held up her skirt a little, getting up to three before missing her toss. “Now its your turn. Keep going until you make a mistake, then I go again. The first to complete the course wins.”

The boy nodded and began to play, the other people in the yard smiling and shaking their heads. Leave it to the Herald to find the one lonely child in all of Skyhold and try to brighten his day.

“Young Master Kieran, I dare say I have been swindled.” Ebrisa huffed after he won. “You lead me to believe you hadn't played this before, yet I have been beaten quite soundly.”

Kieran laughed. “Well when did you play this last? Maybe you are out of practice.”

Ebrisa looked down in thought. “I think... I was eight. I didn't get to play with the others much after that.” She looked back at Kieran and smiled. “Shall we go again?”

The mage was doing much better the second time around and bent down to retrieve the stone on her way back to the starting space.

“Kieran! What did I say?” A voice boomed from behind her and Ebrisa lost her balance, falling over.

“Herald, are you okay?” Kieran tried not to laugh.

“Yes, Master Kieran. My skirts do my balance no favors, I'm afraid.” Ebrisa stood up and turned to the voice. The Empress' occult advisor stood with her hands on her hips, angry at the boy. “Apologies, Lady Morrigan. I asked the boy to play with me. It was my idea.”

Morrigan raised a brow. “The Herald of Andraste asked to play with a child?”

“Its true, Mother,” Kieran added. “She's very nice.”

The witch's face softened. “Alright, perhaps you can play more later. Return to your studies, little man.” He nodded and waved goodbye to the Herald before running off.

“I didn't mean to get him in trouble,” Ebrisa began. “I haven't seen any other children here and thought he might be a little lonely.”

“It would not be the first time, but I thank you for your concern.” Morrigan smiled coyly. “But which of you needed to play more, I wonder.”

Chapter Text

There was an awkward quiet in the rotunda library and Ebrisa felt like she was intruding on something. She turned into an alcove to replace the finished book and jumped at the sight of Dorian leaning solemnly against the window. He was always so loud and energetic that seeing him staring off into nothing startled the Herald.

“Master Pavus?” Ebrisa began softly as she drew closer. “Is something the matter?”

He nearly snorted and folded his arms. “And the perfect child arrives.”

“Pardon?”

“Does it become tiresome doing everything your family asks, without question?” Dorian turned to her, voice laced with a hint of disgust. “When they say jump, how high can you go?”

Ebrisa looked down and rubbed the back of her hand, trying to mask the pang of hurt.

The man sighed tiredly and wiped a hand over his face. “That was unworthy of me. I didn't mean...”

“What happened, Master Pavus?” She tried again. “Something has upset you a great deal.”

He looked her over sadly and shook his head. “I met with my father. He lured me to Redcliffe to, I don't know, drag me back to Tevinter, I suppose.”

Ebrisa raised her eyes curiously. “You didn't speak with him?”

Dorian laughed bitterly. “What could he possibly have to say to me that I would want to hear?”

“He came to the center of Fereldan to talk with you. He could have just sent a letter, but he wanted to speak with you face to face.” Ebrisa frowned slightly. “To go through all that, he must have had something important to discuss.”

“After what he tried to do to me, he gave up that right.” The Tevinter spat angrily.

She was almost afraid to ask. “What did he do?”

Dorian tensed. “I prefer the company of men and wouldn't play along with my family's plan to pretend I was any different. My father taught me to hate blood magic, but he tried to...” He sighed heavily. “He was going to try to... change me. Alter my mind and make me the perfect little puppet to carry out his fucking legacy.”

Ebrisa was quiet. She hadn't expected any of this. It seemed as though even someone as cheerful as Dorian had troubles too deep to share willingly. “Master Pavus...”

“No, don't you look at me like that.” He snapped and moved away. “I won't be pitied for what I feel. You think its wrong, don't you? Little Chantry servant of the light must find my perversion quite unsettling.” Dorian turned back to face her angrily. “I will live my life as I see fit! I am my own person, not a projection of my parents' will!”

The Herald continued to look down, flinching as he shouted at her. She waited until he was finished before daring to say anything. “When I was small and my magic first manifested, I didn't know what was happening,” she began quietly. “Mother told me that I was being punished for something I must have done. My siblings never had anything like that happen to them, so I believed her. She said that if I repented long enough and prayed hard enough, the Maker would take it away.” Ebrisa looked at her hands and smiled sadly. “I believed her. Why shouldn't I? So I prayed, and I fasted, and I attended Chantry services whenever Mother let me off the estate – which wasn't often – but it only got worse. Six years old, and already covered in sin.” She sighed softly and closed her eyes. “Mother tried to use the most powerful tool she had to change me, too. Faith.”

“So young. That's.... absurd,” Dorian mumbled. “Even backwater slum urchins know a mage when they see one. You can't change something that's a part of you.”

Ebrisa looked up at him with a sad smile. “It took a few years, but I came to realize that too. Mother tried to change me to protect me, I think. Your family will love you no matter what, but everyone else? Well, you see how things are with mages down here.” She reached out and gently touched Dorian's arm. “Master Pavus, they can't change something that is a part of us. They'll try desperately at first, but that's because parents only want the world to see you as they see you. Someone who they love.”

Dorian stared at her, dumbfounded. “You... you really believe that, don't you?”

“I do.” Ebrisa took hold of his hand and squeezed it gently. “Do you think you could let your father at least try and speak his piece? I'm not saying it has to be in person, a letter would do, but at least give him a chance to atone for the actions of a desperate man.”

“I...” He sighed and shook his head before meeting the Herald's gaze with a small smirk. “How could I say no to such an adorable face?”

~~~~~~~~~

If nothing else, Lady Trevelyan was a woman of her word. At the end of the main hall beside the Inquisitor's imposing throne sat a newly arrived harp. It was painted white with gilded gold scroll work along its frame and Ebrisa felt drawn to it. She ran her finger tips slowly across the strings, finding them appropriately tuned. It had been so long since she had touched a harp in the waking world and that one had not been nearly as ornate. Ebrisa sat down on the matching stool and drew her fingers over the strings in a simple trill. She recalled taking music lessons beside her sister's singing and the little concerts they put on for their family. Everything had seemed so perfect in her young days, so happy.

The Herald positioned her arms and closed her eyes as she began to pluck a Chantry hymn, adding an occasional flourish. As the song went on, she started singing softly. She knew she couldn't be as good as Aurelia surely became, but this moment was only about the music. She let the final note dwindle slowly away as the string stopped vibrating. She opened her eyes slowly and found Hawke staring at her from the doorway to her quarters.

“Oh, I didn't even think about how loud this is!” Ebrisa stood up quickly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, it had just been so long, and I-”

“At ease, Herald,” Hawke laughed. “Josephine was trying to figure out where to put the thing, but I think here is just fine.”

“Yes, marvelous acoustics.” Vivienne smiled. “I could hear you clear upstairs.”

“Can we make requests? Chantry music is so terribly depressing.” Dorian sighed.

“I suppose, but I would need sheet music to learn from.” Ebrisa was embarrassed, but happy. “I'm afraid all I know are the depressing ones.”

“Right. Ruffles, get on that.” Varric grinned.

“Of course,” Josephine returned the smile.

~~~~~~~

“Mother, I feel I haven't seen you for weeks!” Ebrisa sat up in surprise as the spirit entered the room.

“I am sorry, sweetling, but I had something to attend to.” The spirit sighed and sat beside the mage.

“Did you finish?”

“No, but any night now, I'm sure.” She turned to Ebrisa and smiled, but the Herald's eyes widened.

“Your eyes are green.”

“Of course they are. Like yours.” The spirit tilted her head in confusion.

“That's what it was. Your eyes...” Ebrisa stood up and moved away. “Mother's eyes are blue.”

“No, child, my eyes have always been green.”

“Not you, my real mother. She came to visit for a few days. She aged, but it was her.” Ebrisa shook her head. “Spirit, why do you not portray my mother correctly? Why hold on to the wrong color?”

The woman stood up slowly, lips thin in anger. “You prefer her to me? Her venomous words, her selfishness, her hatred of who you are?”

Ebrisa was becoming frightened as the spirit grew angrier.

“Mother is looking out for me...”

“No! I look out for you. Galatea has always only looked out for herself!” The spirit stomped her foot and sent the furniture and Ebrisa flying against the walls. “She does not love you. She can love none but herself! She has always been this way!” The room began to burn as the spirit screamed and knocked over shelves, trailing fire with each sweep of her arm.

“Wake up...” Ebrisa whispered. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Ebrisa shot up in bed in a panic, heart pounding. Her nerves were on end and she couldn't catch her breath. That had never happened before, nothing even close. She was terrified of the spirit that had always been so sweet to her - it didn't make sense! She couldn't calm down and didn't want to be alone. She needed to be near another person, even if they were sleeping. She needed to feel safe. The mage threw back the sheets and hurried to Cullen's office.

“She trusts you falsely! You can only hurt her!” Ebrisa growled, appearing before Cullen suddenly, burning his almost pleasant dream away. “You've tricked her, you all have!”

“What is your goal here, demon?” Cullen spat. “Trying to scare me away from Ebrisa? How does that get you what you want?”

“You can not protect her! You can not love her!” Ebrisa roared, fire seeping from her eyes. “Only I can!” She reared back her hand and rushed at him.

Ebrisa sat up straighter in the arm chair and regarded Cullen curiously. He had been sleeping peacefully at his desk when she slipped in, but was now twitching and grumbling. A nightmare. If it was anything like what the mage just experienced, she didn't want him to have to continue it. “Cullen?”

She got up and moved to his side. “Cullen?” Ebrisa shook his shoulder and called out louder. “Cullen!”

He shot up suddenly, roaring with anger and shoved her away, sending her stumbling. “Silence, demon!” He rushed at her and slashed out with his sword, catching it in the bookshelf behind the mage. Cullen glared at her terrified face in the dim light of the room. Ebrisa's eyes were wide and filled with unspent tears as she slowly slipped down the shelf, knocking books and papers off as she slid to the floor. Cullen freed his blade, growling deep in his throat. “I will have no more of your tricks.”

Ebrisa looked up at him desperately, her lungs begging for air and her heart aching for a reason. The commander moved as if to strike again, but Cole appeared before him. “Stop, or I will stop you.”

Cullen looked at the young man curiously. “Cole? What are you...” His eyes widened suddenly in realization and he dropped his blade, backing away. “Maker's Breath... I thought I was still dreaming.”

Ebrisa took in a shuddering breath as she stared at him with grief stricken eyes. “Cullen...” Her voice broke on his name and her heart threatened to do the same.

He felt numb. She had really been there. “Did I hurt you?” He panicked and tried to move to her side. “Ebrisa, I'm so sorry!” She scrambled to her feet and out the door, leaving a smear of blood on the books behind her. Cullen stared at it, then to the line of red in his sword. He sank to the floor and held his head in his hands. “Maker, how could I do this? To her?”

“She trusted you the most.” Cole said softly, sadly.

“I know...” Cullen sighed deeply. “Maker, I know.” Is this what that demon wanted? “Cole, please, go see if Ebrisa is okay. She needs someone right now.”

“So do you...”

“Please, Cole.” Cullen let out a mournful breath.”I don't deserve comfort.”

The mage sat huddled on her bed, doors locked, and breathing erraticly. She held her hand over the gash in her arm and tried to remember her lessons with Solas. She couldn't form a single thought through her panic and fear. What was that? What had happened?

“He didn't mean it.” Cole mumbled beside her. “Dark dreaming. Demons. Every night.”

That's right, Cullen was having a nightmare. “I tried to wake him up...”

“Fake Ebrisa. Fire. Furious.” Cole continued. “Every night. Always finds him.”

The Herald turned slowly to Cole, the fogginess drifting away from her mind. “A... a demon was pretending to be me, and then I woke him up. He was still dreaming.”

“Its hard to tell them apart. Lyrium made it hard.”

“Lyrium?”

“He hurt you.” Cole motioned to the growing red stain on her nightdress's sleeve. “No excuse. Never forgive.”

Ebrisa tried to smile. “Don't hate him for this. I... I shouldn't have been in there.”

“I don't.” The young man brought his legs under himself on the bed. “He does.”

“But it... it was an accident.”

“Could have killed her. Maker, how could I? Not her. No excuse.” Cole dipped his head. “Must resign. Tell Cassandra. Never forgive.”

The mage jumped to her feet. “What? For this?” She removed her blood covered hand and waved it around. “He can't leave the Inquisition because of this, because of me! It's not right!”

“No excuse. Never forgive.”

“Ser Cole, we can't let him do that...” Ebrisa squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Can... can you make him forget?”

“I can.” Cole looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. “But he hurt you.”

“It... it wasn't on purpose. You can feel how this is hurting him, right? You heal hurt.” She poured water into the basin on her vanity. “Make him forget. I can get over this, but he might not.”

“But...” Cole frowned and shook his head. “I can't make you forget. He hurt you inside and out.”

“Its... its okay.” Ebrisa held her hand over the wound gently, glowing with a dim green light. “My wounds will heal, Ser Cole.” She removed her hand and almost smiled at the faint scar. “See?”

The young man sighed. “If its what you want...”

“It is. Please, Ser Cole.” The mage dipped a cloth into the basin and watched the red from her hand drift across the water. “However much the pain is now, I know it will be a thousand times worse if he leaves. I... I can't bare the thought of not seeing him again.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa hadn't slept for three days. She couldn't risk dreaming of the angry spirit until she knew what was going on. Solas had departed with the Inquisitor, Varric, and Blackwall at first light the morning after Ebrisa's night of terror. Apparently, they had accumulated a decent amount of shards and Solas was interested in seeing the temple at the Oasis. Vivienne waved the encounter off as a the normal behavior of demons and Dorian had precious little to say about dreams that Ebrisa didn't already know. The Herald tried to find her own answers by studying books on the Fade and demons, but she didn't know what to look for. There were a few times that she dozed off during a particularly dry passage and slipped back to the still burning room. The sheer fear would wake her back up and she'd be too on edge to read for a while.

She began drinking bitter teas on the second day to stave off sleep and introduced spicy snacks when that alone stopped working. Ebrisa decided a change of pace might help and found Kieran in the garden. “Would you be my playmate for a little while, Master Kieran?” She smiled through the exhaustion and held out a basket.

The boy looked to his mother across the garden who rolled her eyes, but nodded with a smile. The pair sat down next to a flat pave stone and Ebrisa set up three bowls, filling two with candies. “Ser Blackwall made us a fine top before he left. He's quite good with carving.” She explained the rules of Put and Take and made Kieran promise to only eat his winnings when Morrigan gave permission.

The boy spun the top and got a three, reluctantly setting a sweet in the center bowl. “What flavor are they?”

“Honey. We apparently have some sort of arrangement with a bee keeper.” Ebrisa tilted her head a little. Why was that again?

They continued to play, each winning the pot a few times. Ebrisa told funny little stories to make Kieran laugh, but he stopped after a while and seemed sad. “Why are you trying so hard?”

“What?” Ebrisa's hand stilled on the top.

“You're trying to convince me you're happy, but its not true.” The boy tilted his head in confusion.

“I...” The mage let the top fall. “I'm scared. I had a very bad dream and I don't want to see it again.”

“Because of her?”

“How...” Ebrisa stared at him. “How did you know it was a her?”

“She's always with you.”

“Alright Kieran, that's enough.” Morrigan hastily set everything inside the basket. “I think you've upset your friend.”

“But she's not alone either.” The boy looked up at his mother excitedly. “Is she like me?”

“No, Kieran, she is not. Now be off.” The witch pointed back towards their room and her son reluctantly complied. “I do apologize. Kieran can be a little too forward sometimes. A trait he picked up from me.”

Ebrisa stood slowly, her exhaustion suddenly very evident. “It's alright. I was only caught off guard.” She started walking away.

“Wait, your... things!” Morrigan called after.

The Herald turned back to face the witch. “Keep it. Master Kieran clearly won.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh dear.” Leliana rolled the report up tightly. “This is not good.” She hurried out of the rookery and straight to the ambassador's office. “Josie, we have a problem.” She paused in the doorway, seeing that the Antivan was already speaking with Cullen. Leliana let out a reluctant huff and closed the door behind her.

“What is it?” Josephine stood up, concerned.

“You recall our punishment of Lord Averitt? Well, it appears it may have been too successful.” Leliana handed the report to her friend, who quickly read it and paled.

“Who is this Averitt?” Cullen asked, unfamiliar with the name. “What did he do?”

“He was a noble present at the Winter Palace,” Josephine began carefully. “He acted... ungentlemanly and we persuaded others to stop trade with his family.”

“They took a hit financially, but nothing that wasn't recoverable with focused effort.” Leliana added. “Lord Averitt, however, took it harder than we anticipated. He has been getting rather drunk at parties.”

“But what did he do at the Winter Palace?” Cullen looked between the women, not liking how vague they were being.

“Miner overheard him at a recent event making... drunken claims that harm our reputation.”

“Leliana, please, it is far worse than that!” Josephine cut in. “This is not about us, it is about her!”

Cullen tensed. “Tell me.”

Josephine opened her mouth repeatedly, trying to find the right words. “He attempted to... ah, well, force himself... on the Herald.”

“What?!” The commander shouted, baffled and furious.

“Madame Vivienne got her away before he touched her inappropriately – well, too inappropriately - but I know he did something else to the Herald on the dance floor.” Josephine added, angry at herself. “We were all watching the Inquisitor dance with Florianne. No one saw and the Herald would not say, but she was so frazzled.”

“So some noble molests Ebrisa and you slap his wrist?” Cullen growled. “Why am I just now hearing of this?”

“Because we could not risk a duel disrupting our operation to save the empress.” Leliana snapped. “Any other man would have learned his lesson and kept quiet while his family regained strength. But... Lord Averitt seems quite stubborn with his infatuation.”

Realization suddenly set in and Cullen narrowed his eyes. “What claim is he making?”

“Ah, well, that would be...” Josephine mumbled. “We should have just dueled him.”

“He's saying they were intimate and implying that's why the Herald changed her clothes at the end of the night.” Leliana said flatly. Better to just get it out in the open and witness the inevitable wrath.

Cullen was eerily quiet, staring at the wall. Josephine exchanged a worried look with Leliana.

“Lady Montilyet,” he said suddenly in a frighteningly even voice.

Josephine jumped. “Y-yes, Commander?

“Please arrange a duel for the earliest convenience.”

“Of course. Right away.” The Antivan quickly replied.

Cullen headed out of the room, but paused at the door. “Ah. I have another request.” He turned his head and leveled an icy glare at the women. “No. More. Secrets.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Josephine laughed uneasily. The commander nodded and left, Josephine dropping down into her chair.

“The Inquisitor will be quite upset when she returns.” Leliana gave her friend a worried look. “I think we broke her commander.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Nightmares, you say?” Adan mumbled as he flipped through a well worn book.

“Yes, they've gotten quite bad.” Ebrisa rubbed at her eyes wearily. “I can't sleep without seeing that fear demon looming over me.”

“Don't need to explain yourself to me, Herald.” The apothecary sighed. “You've got more reasons than most to not want to dream.”

Ebrisa nodded. It had been four days now and she couldn't wait for Solas any longer.

“Oh, here we go.” Adan leaned in closer to the book, mouthing off the ingredients to himself. “Looks like we have everything we'll need – for once. It will only work one time, but I can cook you up a dose before nightfall, no problem.”

“I would be grateful,” she sighed in relief. The clamoring outside increased to an annoying level and Adan threw open the door to see what was going on.

Soldiers and recruits alike watched nervously as Cullen mercilessly attacked a training dummy. “Who do you think pissed him off?” One guard mumbled.

“Its going to be all of us if we keep watching.” Another grumbled back.

“We should get out of here before he asks one of us to spar.”

“Maker, no! I'd like to be able to use this arm later, thank you very much.”

The men dispersed as quickly as they arrived and Ebrisa watched Cullen swing and thrust the sword angrily. She suddenly remembered something Cole had said. “Actually, Master Adan, could you make two doses?” She wasn't the only one plagued by nightmares.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen had hit the dummy until the blade of the practice sword came loose. Unacceptable. He would need to speak to the armory blacksmith another time. His arms were sore from training and his hands still remembered the vibration from the hits as he finally sat at his desk. He should practice with a rapier, actually. How fast could Harrit make him one?

Sighing in annoyance, Cullen withdrew a whetstone from his desk and unsheathed his own proper blade to sharpen it. He paused at a curious line of dried blood.

There was a knock at the door and Cullen almost growled in annoyance. “Come in.”

The Herald slowly opened the door, seemingly unsure. At that moment, Cullen realized he hadn't really seen Ebrisa for days. She looked beyond tired and almost nervous as she walked over to his desk. “I, um,” she stared at Cullen's sword and turned her body to hide her right arm.

Cullen shook his head at the blade. “I was certain I cleaned it properly after the last fight. Well,” he turned back to the mage. “How have you been? You seem exhausted.”

Ebrisa laughed lightly, but it didn't come out right. “That's actually why I'm here. I've been having terrible nightmares. Cole said you were as well.”

The commander went rigid. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing,” Ebrisa replied quickly. “Just, that you have been having the same one a lot recently...” She set a small vial on his desk. “Master Adan made it. One time only. You'll sleep, but won't dream. You... you seem like you could use a restful night. In a bed.” She paused. “I always find you sleeping in here. Do you even have quarters?”

Cullen laughed for the first time all day and pointed up.

Ebrisa looked at him skeptically and moved to the ladder, gazing up the rungs. “That can't be right. There's a hole in the ceiling.”

He came up behind her and looked at the night sky above them. “There sure is.”

“You'd freeze in your sleep! There can't really be a bed up there.” Ebrisa tilted her head, trying to see more of the supposed bedroom.

“So distrusting,” Cullen chuckled. “I'd be more than happy to introduce you to my bed.”

Ebrisa spun around, eyes wide, and suddenly realized how close he was. Cullen's face blushed all the way to his ears and he took several steps back. “That- that came out wrong!” He stammered. “I – I didn't mean anything inappropriate.” Cullen instantly sobered as he took in Ebrisa gripping the ladder tightly and trembling, eyes filled with fear. “Ebrisa, I would never do anything unwarranted towards you.” He reached out to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but she flinched away.

“I... I know that, Cullen.” She said in a shaky voice. “I'm just tired.”

“Of course,” Cullen said slowly and gave her more space. “Good night.”

She tried to smile, but failed miserably and left.

The commander pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. She was scared of him. Had he somehow reminded her of something Averitt had done? Did that have something to do with her nightmares? He growled angrily and swore he would beat the Orlesian soundly and quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hawke, please stop trying to touch the fire,” Blackwall called over his shoulder as he helped remove the last of their gear from the mounts. “I know its impressive, but you only have an increased resistance, not an immunity.” He chuckled as she tucked her hands behind her back innocently. “Don't you have to get caught up on what's happened on your absence?”

The Inquisitor sighed and headed out of the workshop. “Nothing ever happens when I'm gone.” She paused and stared past the well at Cullen holding a rapier in an unfamiliar stance. “Except that.”

Blackwall hummed beside her. “Isn't that Knight-Captain Briony next to him? What are they doing?”

Ebrisa rushed out of her room. “You've returned? Thank goodness.” The two fighters watched the Herald dart across the yard and up the steps.

“Okay.” Hawke relented. “I'll go get that update.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Solas was just beginning to organize his notes from the oasis. Someone had gone through great lengths to seal those doors, but for what purpose? To await someone worthy?

“Master Solas,” Ebrisa burst though the door, out of breath. “I must speak with you.”

He regarded her curiously. “I can see this is urgent.”

“Yes,” she straightened and calmed down. “I confronted the spirit in my dream about not mirroring my mother's appearance, expecting it to correct its eye color or drop the guise all together, but it only became angry. Very, very, angry.”

Solas leaned back on his desk and tilted his head. “That is strange. The Fade usually responds when you acknowledge it. Not even a flicker of change?”

Ebrisa shook her head. “She just started screaming about my mother, as if she knew her. They weren't things I thought or my own feelings.” The Herald held herself. “She was so angry. Everything began to burn...”

“That is troubling. It sounds like a spirit of wrath invaded your dreams.” Solas sighed. “I can teach you how to evict unwelcome guests in case it returns.”

“I don't think it left,” she said quietly. “And I can't believe its a demon. The spirit has always been so kind and nurturing.”

The elf paused. “You believe it to be the same spirit each time you sleep? Circling you in the Fade until you slumber?”

Ebrisa looked down at her hands. “It sounds foolish, doesn't it?”

“It is uncommon, but some spirits do latch onto a single person.” Solas dug through a small box on his desk. “That spirit may be protecting you, which is why it felt slighted by you comparing it to your mother.” He pulled out a smooth chunk of metal and handed it to Ebrisa. “Do you know what this is?”

“An arrowhead from a leaking cast?”

“No.” Solas said calmly. “This is from one of the arrows Florianne shot you with.”

Ebrisa's brow furrowed. “But if she was trying to kill me, why use this?”

Solas nearly chuckled. “I suspect it was a perfectly aerodynamic and sharp arrow when it tried to pierce your flesh. This was melted against your skin, as were the others.”

The Herald stared at the metal in her hand and recalled the scorched projectiles at Therinfall. “She has been protecting me and I never realized.”

“A spirit's nature can change with your perception of it. Perhaps your rejection merely made it act out.” The elf let his explanation sink in. “I think I will teach you that eviction trick anyways. It is quite useful.”

~~~~~~~

Ebrisa opened her eyes and tried to remain calm in the midst of the intense blaze. She walked through the burning halls and up to the tower room. The flames did not harm her. “Hello?” She called out softly through the door, getting no reply, but entering anyways.

There the spirit stood, as Ebrisa knew she would, form rigid and staring at the wall. It turned to face the intruder and glared intently. The mage paused, breath quickening. What if this didn't work? She took a deep breath and gathered her resolve.

“I apologize for my cruel, unthinking words,” Ebrisa began. The spirit dropped its glare and seemed surprised. “You have been very kind to me. You gave me council, comforted me, you even protect me in the waking world.” The mage bit her lip. “I did not fully comprehend what you are or what you have been doing for me. You are not a mere spirit reflecting my own mind. You are your own being with your own feelings, and I hurt you.” Ebrisa moved to the spirit and took hold of its hands. “I am so sorry.”

The fire died away.

“Oh, sweetling.” The spirit was moved.

“If its alright, may I still call you Mother?” The mage squeezed the spirit's hands.

A bright smile spread across its face and its eyes brimmed with tears. “Of course, dear one. Nothing would make me happier.”

Chapter Text

It had taken a full week of coaxing, but Varric finally got Josephine to explain exactly what Cullen was training for. The dwarf couldn't stop grinning every time he caught a glimpse of the commander being drilled by Knight-Captain Briony. It seemed the seasoned duelist took great joy in the role reversal and jumped at every chance to yell at Cullen when he did something wrong. Those opportunities were steadily becoming less frequent.

“Alright, dwarf.” Dorian came up behind Varric on the walkway and folded his arms. “You obviously know what's going on and you are going to spill it.”

“Oh, no can do Sparkler. Been sworn to secrecy.” He sighed and leaned on the railing. “I mean, Hawke and Sunshine can absolutely never find out. They might try and stop our commander from his duel.”

Dorian smirked and leaned on the railing as well.”Of course. It would be tragic if they stopped him. Who is he dueling again?”

“Ruffles said, in total confidence, that some Orlesian was rude to Sunshine at the Winter Palace. Now he's spreading rumors.”

“Averitt did much, much worse than that,” the mage snarled.

“So you know? Ruffles wouldn't give any details.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes at the distant clouds. “The less-than-a-man molested our innocent Herald. The poor dear was too shocked and far too polite to push him away. Vivienne pulled her out of there, but the damage had been done.” He shook his head. “The Herald was frightened and confused. I'm surprised it didn't spoil the rest of the evening.”

Realization dawned on Varric slowly. “That's why you asked us to stay with her. You wanted to be sure Ass-veritt didn't try anything.”

“Exactly. I couldn't do anything for the poor dear, but I'm glad our commander has stepped up to personally defend her honor.” Dorian paused. “What sort of rumor is Averitt spreading?”

The dwarf sighed. “Not a clue, but I do know that's how Cullen finally found out about everything.”

“Can't imagine its anything tame...”

Varric nodded slowly. “Heard the challenge was accepted. Duel in Val Royeaux later this week.”

“We're going.”

“Absolutely we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawke climbed onto her mount with an annoyed expression. “Of all the times for Varric to meet with his publisher... we could use another archer in the Emerald Graves! Too many places to hide, from what I understand.”

“Oy, think I can't handle it by myself?” Sera twisted in the saddle to frown at the Inquisitor. “I'll have the baddies think there's five of me.”

“Well there's an image,” Iron Bull laughed. “There isn't enough pie in Thedas to feed five Seras.”

The archer snorted. “True that.”

Solas shook his head. This would be a long journey. He was going to decline the Inquisitor's request, but Ebrisa had pleaded with him. She was still a bit uneasy about the Fade and took comfort in his lessons. “Let us hope this Fairbanks proves worthwhile.”

Cullen helped Ebrisa onto the red hart, taking extra care to not let his touch linger. Though she tried to hide it, the mage would tremble if he got too close. She'd apologize and look ashamed as she pulled away and Cullen could not deny the twinge of hurt he felt each time she withdrew from him. “The area is home to giants. They can jump far and strike hard, so you must be on your guard.” He resisted the urge to squeeze Ebrisa's hand and settled for a nod instead. “Take care.”

The Herald smiled down at him, warm and grateful. “Thank you, Cullen. I will.” The group moved out through the gate, but Blackwall lingered back a bit.

He looked Cullen straight in the eye. “Good luck, Commander.”

“What do you mean?”

Blackwall chuckled. “I know a man readying for a duel when I see one.” Cullen began to protest, but the warden raised a hand. “I don't know the details, but I will give you a piece of advice. Stay calm. Its the moments when anger fuels a man that he gets sloppy and opens up for attack. Try and get your opponent there instead.” With that, Blackwall nodded and hurried to catch up with the Inquisitor.

Cullen stood in the now empty yard, silently contemplating his approaching fight. He wanted nothing more than to hack into the sleazy noble and leave him dying in the street, but that would really do little to correct the rumors. He had to defeat the little man in the most calm and honorable way possible to prove Averitt was full of lies. A trial by combat. A clear victory that lends itself to no doubts of the Herald's purity and honor. Cullen had to be Ebrisa's champion. This was not about defeating an enemy, this was about protecting her smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You're certain we'll be able to hear them from up here?” Dorian looked over the railing skeptically.

“Of course”! Varric was offended. “The acoustics here are great. You can hear practically everything in the Summer Bizarre from this spot.” He grinned. “I do run a spy network, you know. Besides, best seat in the house.”

Dorian seemed unconvinced. “If we miss even one bit of the duel, I shall never forgive you.”

The dwarf placed a hand over his heart. “How would I ever live with myself?”

Dorian opened his mouth to say something snarky, but stopped and leaned over the railing. “It's the commander! He's here at last.”

Varric rushed to his side. “Not wearing his armor, but that's definitely him.” He smirked. “Playing by all the rules.”

Cullen stood alone in the square, arms folded, and awaited the arrival of his opponent. He carried two rapiers at his waist and concentrated on all of Briony's lessons. Much of it went against his formal training, but he had worked hard to memorize her instructions. If he – no, after he won the duel, Cullen would ensure the Knight-Captain received a bonus, or vacation, or, well, whatever she wanted. Within reason, of course.

“Ah, Commander Cullen of the Inquisition,” Averitt called out as he approached with his attendants. “I did not expect to see you in Orlais. I hear the refinement does not agree with you.” The noble laughed lightly.

Cullen kept his face neutral. “There are indeed several things here that make me ill, yet you stand before me.”

“Very good, very good.” Averitt smirked. “I must admit, I was surprised by the challenge. Does the Inquisition fear my involvement with the Herald so?”

The commander held his anger at bay. It would do him no good. “We disapprove of your wild imagination dragging the Lady Herald's name through the mud. I greatly disapprove of your unwanted actions towards her in Halamshiral.”

“Unwanted? Ha!” The noble threw back his head. “She was like every other woman who lays eyes upon me. She begged me to take her.”

Cullen twitched and set his jaw, a low growl of anger rising in his chest. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to squash the wrath inside him. He had to stay calm. “So your delusions extend past the Herald of Andraste.” He said after a moment, a crowd growing around them. “You will be exposed for the liar you are before the Maker and all who stand witness here.”

“Very well, Commander.” Averitt motioned to one of his men. “This is Markis, my champion. He has won several duels on my behalf and looks forward to defeating your second. What did Viscount Pontival say her name was? Brigette? Britanny?”

The commander unfolded his arms and withdrew the rapiers. “Knight-Captain Briony remains in Skyhold. The challenge was mine to make and mine to fulfill.” He held out the swords. “This is the standard duel weapon, I believe. The rapiers are identical in weight, length, and construction. Select your sword, Ser Markis.”

“Wait, you are fighting? The commander of the Inquisition himself?” Averitt hid his surprise poorly. “You have a seasoned and well known duelist in you ranks, yet you elect to challenge me yourself?” He laughed at the absurdity.

“What better way to expose your lies than to have a novice duelist beat your best man?” Cullen leveled a cold look at Averitt. “As I said, I am greatly displeased.”

The noble pushed Markis aside. “Then perhaps I shall defend myself.” He snatched a rapier from Cullen's hand.

“My lord, your mother will be most displeased if I allow you to become injured,” Markis protested from his side.

“You forget, my good man, that you did not always fight for me.” Averitt swished the blade to test the balance. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a carefully folded handkerchief. “Besides, the Herald cut me a lock of her golden hair for favor. She is with me.” He brought the fabric to his face and inhaled. “Still smells of lavender.”

Thank the Maker Ebrisa wasn't there to see such a display. Cullen gripped the tang of the sword tightly. “Remove your mask, ser. I would have nothing grant you a disadvantage.”

The noble tucked the handkerchief in his doublet and slipped off the mask, tossing it to the side. “Take pride in the fact that you face me directly.”

Cullen pointed the tip of his blade at Averitt's throat. “Trust me, I do.” They circled each other, Averitt smug and Cullen calm, waiting for the other to strike first. The noble thrust forward and Cullen easily parried, circling their blades and knocking Averitt's from his hand. Instead of striking, he waited. “Retrieve your blade.”

The noble laughed and picked up the sword. “Beginner's luck.” Again they circled, Averitt trying to feint and goad Cullen into attacking. The commander stayed calm and waited patiently. Averitt thrust forward, aiming for the shoulder, but over extended with his eagerness, allowing Cullen to side step from harm and knock the unbalance man over by sweeping at his ankles.

“Footwork is important, ser,” Cullen said as he waited for the noble to stand back up. “Perhaps your fantasies include your proficiency with a blade as well.”

The crowd laughed quietly as Averitt dusted himself off. “I knew you favored the shield, Commander, but do you not know how to attack at all?”

Cullen thrust forward, sliding his blade along the other, and twisting it out of the noble's hand once again. “Retrieve your blade.” Averitt was becoming annoyed as he bent over yet again.

“Where is that fierceness I've heard so much about? Or is this whole duel a political ploy?”

Before he could say more, Cullen pressed forward, thrusting the rapier repeatedly as if to cut Averitt's face and neck, but keeping the foible straight and controlled. He stepped back, giving his opponent a moment to recover. “I assure you, this is no ploy.”

The crowd clapped at his precision and whispered back and forth. The commander was surely toying with him and could easily over take the noble. How could Averitt possibly hope to win against the Inquisition?

“Admit your lies about the Lady Herald of Andraste.” Cullen swatted at the side of Averitt's rapier, dropping the blade low, but not out of his grasp.

“There are none.” The noble hissed defiantly and slashed widely, causing Cullen to jump back, the thin tip cutting his outer layer of clothing, but little else. Seeing a chance, Averitt lunged forward, ignoring the urging of his men, and sliced the rapier from overhead straight down at the commander.

Cullen acted quickly and intercepted the strike, directing the attacking blade along his own until the full weight of the hit rested on the guard and snapped the foible clean off Averitt's blade.

The noble stared at the point on the ground, then slowly to the man less than a yard away. “Admit.” Cullen knocked the broken rapier easily from his opponent's grasp. “Your.” He stepped back and aimed the point. “Lies.” Averitt lowered his head and mumbled. “Louder!” Cullen shouted, finally releasing some of his anger.

The noble held up his hands. “I... I did nothing but dance with the Herald of Andraste. She treated me no differently than any other dance partner that night.”

Cullen stepped forward and snatched the handkerchief from Averitt's doublet. “Let this now end all rumors and slander against the Lady Herald. She remains pure and is too good for any man, let alone this one.” The commander lowered the rapier and walked away.

“My lord, are you alright?” Markis came up to check on his master, relieved to see him unharmed. Averitt growled in anger and grabbed the man's long sword. He charged at Cullen's back, struggling with the weight of the full blade, and shouting. The crowd gasped and some covered their eyes. Cullen turned around quickly and kicked the noble solidly in the chest, sending him flying backwards to hit the pavement soundly. Averitt groaned in pain, the sword far from his grasp. Cullen stalked over to him, his previously controlled anger on full display. He flipped the rapier in his hand, holding the point down.

“Please, mercy,” the noble begged.

The commander reared back and roared, coming down with his full strength and snapping the rapier with his strike. Averitt slowly opened his eyes to see the still seething man looming over him. “You will stay away from Ebrisa.” Cullen said quietly with a promise of pain in each word. “If this was just about you and me, that would have been your real face.”

Averitt turned to his side where the broken rapier still swayed back and forth, pinning the noble's mask to the ground. A shiver ran up his spine at the realization that had it not been a duel, he would have been brutally slain. “I thought this was about the Herald. Who... who's Ebrisa?”

Cullen pulled him to his feet only to release the noble and punch him squarely in the nose, breaking it and dropping the man to the ground once more. “And that's why you're a liar.” The commander walked away, the crowd parting for him and slapping him on the back in congratulations. It was like a weight was lifted from his shoulders and the burning wrath began to dissipate. To be honest, he was fortunate Averitt decided to duel. Though Cullen was determined, he was unsure he could have defeated an actual duelist. Briony had expressed that concern more than once during their practice.

“That was the most spectacular thing I've ever witnessed,” Dorian called out as he exited the stairwell. “And I've seen flying cows.”

“And the end there where the little weasel tried to get you?” Varric lifted his hands. “Gotta admit, thought he might have had you.”

“What are you two doing here? I thought-” Cullen paused and covered his eyes. “There was no meeting.”

“Nope. All a clever ruse so we could watch you be the secret hero.” Dorian grinned. “So, when can I tell our Herald about your valiant display?”

“Never, Tevinter.” Cullen grumbled.

“He wants the honor himself,” Varric nodded. “Completely understandable.”

“No, I... just don't know the best way to say it.” Cullen rubbed his neck. “She's been having nightmares and doesn't like being touched. I think that's because of what Averitt did to her. Knowing he's been dealt with should ease that. On the other hand... she doesn't like it when people risk themselves for her...”

Varric smirked. “You don't want her to be mad at you.”

“How cute.” Dorian added.

Cullen rolled his eyes, but couldn't deny anything.

“Well, was defending her honor worth the risk of your life?” Varric asked. “Would you do it again?”

“Of course,” Cullen responded automatically.

“Then you just have to convince Sunshine that she was worth it.” The dwarf sighed. “Not gonna lie, that's a hard sell for her.”

Cullen sighed and folded his arms. He would return to Skyhold before Ebrisa, but would that be enough time to figure out how to phrase this?

“You know the best part?” Dorian grinned widely. “When you punched that bastard in the face. Fantastic spray of blood there.”

The commander groaned. “I shouldn't have done that.”

“But it felt good, didn't it?”

Cullen smiled, despite himself. “So, so good.”

Chapter Text

After days of no answers from Cullen and only vague reports from Leliana's agents, Josephine decided to ask Varric out of sheer desperation. He swore everything he said was true and nothing exaggerated, but surely he added a bit of flare here and there.

“What of the favor Averitt claimed to have?” Josephine sipped her tea quietly, perched on the edge of her seat. “Was it really there?”

Varric sighed. “There were some long, curly, golden hairs in the handkerchief, but they were not cut. Still had the roots attached.”

Josephine pulled a face of disgust. “He pulled out some of her hair?”

“Or some other poor girls.” Varric shrugged. “Either way, it did not play out how Ass-veritt claimed.”

“Yes, well, at least the Herald's name has been cleared before word spread too far. Can you imagine?” The Antivan shook her head.

“I can imagine Cullen punching everyone in the face that spread it,” Varric said with a slow smile. “Wish you had seen it, Ruffles. Cullen pulled the guy up like he was nothing and just POW! Right in his doofy little noble nose. No blood the entire duel, then just a river from the guys face!”

Josephine tried not to laugh, but couldn't help a few spurts of giggles.

“What? Cullen can punch nobles, but I can't?” Hawke set her hands on her hips. “That is so unfair!”

“Inquisitor!” Josephine jumped to her feet, barely keeping her tea from spilling all over the floor. “You're back.”

“Yeah, just came in...” She turned to Varric. “Wait, did you say duel?”

“Yup.” The dwarf picked up a shortbread from the table.

“Varric!” The ambassador hissed.

“What? She heard us. Now Cullen will have to report in.”

Josephine paused, then turned to Hawke. “Yes. Commander Cullen had a duel in Val Royeaux. He has yet to debrief us.”

“Alright, well, go get the others.” Hawke scratched her head. “We'll talk about that and the Emerald Graves.”

Josephine nodded and hurried out of the room.

“Mind if I sit in on this one?” Varric grinned.

“You want to watch a boring war council meeting?”

The dwarf chuckled. “Who said it would be boring?”

~~~~~~~~~

Cullen stormed out of the war room, the women still giggling behind him as his ears burned. Varric followed closely behind him, notes in hand.

“Why does Hawke complain about debriefings? That was great.” Varric laughed.

“Its not normal procedure to end meetings by teasing me,” Cullen grumbled, his embarrassment slowly slipping away. “Its not funny.”

“I beg to differ, Curly. Don't take yourself so seriously and you'll live longer.” The dwarf tilted his head. “By the way, you figure out how to tell Sunshine? Hawke isn't the most subtle person in the world and if you don't tell her, she will.”

Cullen sighed. “I've given it much thought, but I'm still unsure.”

Varric nodded. “Maybe you shouldn't think and should just say what you feel. There's been enough shadows around this whole thing already.”

The commander rubbed the back of his neck. What did he feel?

“Hey, and, about something you said to Ass-veritt,” Varric was unusually serious. “You were wrong.”

The commander stopped at the door to the main hall and turned to Varric. “About what?”

The dwarf smiled, his eyes filled with sincerity. “There is one man that's good enough to deserve the Herald. He just needs to ease up a little.”

“Varric,” Cullen sighed, shaking his head.

“I mean it. And nothing is going to change if you don't let it.” Varric punched the commander lightly in the arm. “Now get out of here before Hawke thinks I've gone all sentimental.”

Cullen went straight to his office, thinking things over. He had been teased by practically every member of the inner circle about the Herald one way or another and certainly couldn't deny his desire to protect her, but it honestly had nothing to do with her title. She could have been anyone, come from anywhere – so long as she acted the same, he would want to keep Ebrisa safe. There was kindness and faith and a bigger strength than she knew inside her, but there was also pain and sadness.

Thinking back, it was probably that early morning he first caught her training in the woods outside Haven and she started crying when he told her he was proud of her that the urge to protect Ebrisa began to take shape. In fact, that was when she first called him Cullen. Had something started in her then too?

But why was her safety such a priority for him? Why did he become outraged at the slightest offense? Ebrisa was such a fixture in his life now that he couldn't imagine one without her in it... He cared for her, obviously, but how deeply could he really do that? She was the Herald, but she was Ebrisa. She was kind and beautiful and stirred up nearly forgotten desires in Cullen that went far, far beyond protecting, but he could never act on those.

At least, not unless she... shared some of those desires. Ebrisa did blush around him an awful lot, but that didn't mean she harbored any less than decent thoughts about him. She was still pure, after all.

Cullen shook his head to discard the train of thought. Even if he could not believe the demon in his nightmares, the spirit that helped him bring Ebrisa back from the Fade did make a passing comment about her love for him. Love could mean anything, you love family and friends, but could Ebrisa be in love with him? The idea made him smile and that smile made him pause.

Was he... in love with her? Is that why he had the nightmares? A demon trying to keep him from a love it couldn't get? Trying to make people miserable to match itself? Cullen took a breath, pushing the thoughts away for another time, and knocked on Ebrisa's door.

“Oh, um, just a moment!” He heard her call from inside. Ebrisa opened the door, hiding behind it slightly. “Yes, Cullen?”

“I had something I needed to speak with you about. May I come in?” Cullen vaguely noted that her hair was down and wet.

“Oh...” The mage darted her eyes around and chewed her bottom lip in thought. “Y-yes. Please.” She moved back, opening the door more and letting Cullen enter before closing it again.

“I hear the Emerald Graves went well,” he began, trying to think of a good way to bring up Averitt.

“Oh yes, and its quite beautiful there,” Ebrisa sighed. “Sad, but beautiful.”

“That sounds familiar,” Cullen whispered to himself before turning to the Herald. He immediately froze and blushed.

Ebrisa was in a dressing gown with a towel underneath. Just a towel. She glanced down at herself, holding the top of the soft fabric closed, and laughed nervously. “I was in the bath. I have a bad habit of staying in there too long.”

Cullen shielded his eyes with his hand. “You didn't have to let me in! I-I can come back later.” He tried to navigate to the door by watching only the floor.

“No, its alright, Cullen.” Ebrisa blushed and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, it's you, after all. I'm sure this is important.”

“R-right,” the commander slowly removed his hand and looked at Ebrisa, her dripping hair sending beads of water down her neck and along her collar bone. He cleared his throat and prayed to the Maker that Cole wouldn't show up. “I wanted you to know that I was recently told about that Lord Averitt and what he did to you.”

The mage's smile fell and she looked down. “Oh.”

“I know this is uncomfortable to hear, but he went around and told some people that he... that you...” Cullen shook his head. “He claimed you were intimate, which no one believed for an instant.” Cullen finished quickly.

Ebrisa sat down on her bed, dumbfounded. “Why would he do that? Did... did I lead him on?” She shook her head. “I don't...”

“No, Maker's Breath, of course not!” Cullen knelt down before her, wanting to hold her. “You didn't do anything wrong. He was just a delusional man who couldn't tell fantasy from reality.” The commander paused. “He rescinded all his claims after I beat him in a duel. Your name has been cleared.”

The mage looked at him, shocked. “You what?”

Here it comes. “When I found out what he was was saying, I was so furious. How dare someone take your kindness and warp it like that. How dare he try and belittle you. How dare he dishonor-” Cullen stopped and tried to calm down. “I sent the challenge and had Briony instruct me on rapiers, then went to Val Royeaux and defeated him without drawing blood. Well, there was blood, but that was after.”

“Why?” Ebrisa stared at him. “Why go yourself? What if he – Cullen, what if you were injured or – or killed?”

Cullen smirked, trying to ease her concern. “You have that little confidence in me?”

Ebrisa shoved him. Then again. Then again. “Its not funny!” She shouted, angry. “You could have died to stop a stupid rumor! About me!”

“You're right, its not funny, and that's why I couldn't let Averitt get away with it!” Cullen snapped as he stood up. He began to pace in front of her. “It wasn't just about the vile, slanderous things he was saying, it was also about what he actually did to you! He touched you, Ebrisa! Inappropriately and unwanted! Twice! I was there and I didn't know and I could have just-” Cullen punched the wall and felt a snap. “Damn it...”

“Cullen?”

He shook his head. “It'll be fine.”

“Let me see your hand,” Ebrisa said firmly, making the man reluctantly sit beside her on the bed and remove his glove. He had to admit, it was very tender. Ebrisa gently trailed her fingers over his wrist and hand, sending a shiver up Cullen's spine. It seemed like forever since he felt her touch and he had nearly forgotten how soft she was. He winced as she brushed over a bump that hadn't been there before. “This doesn't seem like it'll be fine,” she looked up at him, concerned. “Do you punch a lot of walls?”

“Well, I try to not make a habit of it,” Cullen muttered. “Actually, I'm surprised it broke. I punched Averitt's face and his head is far thicker than stone.”

The mage couldn't help but laugh. “You did not.”

“Oh no, I most certainly did. Broke his nose.” Cullen smirked, proud of the fact. “Like I said, happened after the duel. Only because he was an extremely poor loser who didn't even bother to learn your name.”

Ebrisa shook her head and cast a small ice spell on her hand, pressing the cold over the swollen injury. “Master Solas has been teaching me healing magic,” she said slowly. “I could try to fix it...”

“Go ahead. I'd be honored to be your first patient.”

The mage hesitated, having second thoughts. “Maybe you should see someone else...”

“What, and let them know I was mad at a wall?” Cullen shook his head. “Its alright, I trust you.”

She looked up at Cullen's eyes and slowly smiled. “Then I guess this will make us even.” She turned more fully onto the bed, ignoring her dressing gown. “Assistant, if you could turn towards me and hold your arm straight.”

Cullen chuckled and did as he was told. Ebrisa held his forearm from underneath, resting his hand on her left arm below the hem of her bunched up sleeve. She took a deep breath and summoned healing energies to her right hand, a green light coating her palm. Gently, she rested her hand on his and concentrated on mending the injury. This was his writing hand and sword arm. For a fighter like him to be without it would be tragic.

He watched her work, finding the way her nose wrinkled in focus and her near pout of determination oddly cute and endearing. He toyed with the idea of telling her so.

“There. How's that?” Ebrisa removed her hand and let out a breath.

Reluctant to let her go now that he was touching her again, Cullen slid his fingers down her arm and took hold of her hand, entwining their fingers. He lifted their hands and rotated his wrist to test the mending. “Hmm. Seems to be alright. Won't go punching things for a little while though.”

“G-good,” Ebrisa whispered, blushing. His hand was so warm. How could she have been afraid of him for so long?

“Now, before you have a chance to get mad at me again,” Cullen said as he continued to move their hands around, “You are absolutely worth the risk. You might not think so, but I do.”

“Cullen...” The Herald breathed, her heart pounding wildly. What did he mean by that? Ebrisa suddenly remembered that she wasn't exactly dressed and that they were sitting very close... on her bed. She took in a shaky breath as her face burned. Her body felt hot and her head was getting dizzy. What was going on?

The commander also seemed to notice their situation and quickly released her hand, standing up from the bed with a noticeable blush on his face. Ebrisa moved back to the edge and held the towel tightly, her dressing gown having slid off her shoulders completely.

Cullen rubbed his neck and cleared his throat. “Do me a favor? The next time someone tries to touch you against your will like that, tell me so I can take care of it right away. Duels aren't needed if I just punch them to begin with.”

Ebrisa laughed lightly. “I promise.”

He glanced back at her to smile, but turned fully and drew a gentle finger along a faint scar on her upper arm. “Where did this come from?”

Ebrisa froze. What should she say? “It was, um, I... I don't recall.”

The commander was unconvinced. “It wasn't there at the Winter Palace and it was painful enough to leave a scar. I'd think that would be pretty memorable.”

“Well, it wasn't,” she said quickly. “I- I need to get dressed.” She stood up and looked away.

“Of course.” Cullen closed his hand into a fist. “Until later.” Ebrisa nodded, but wouldn't look at him as he retrieved his glove and left.

Cullen closed his office door and sighed. She was definitely hiding something, but why? He looked up towards his desk and the small stack of paperwork awaiting him, but spied a gash in the side of the bookshelf from the corner of his eye. He touched it curiously, finding it recent. Odd. Cullen inspected the rest of the shelf, looking for other cuts, but finding instead several books smeared with dried blood shoved into the bottom corner. Dried blood, a gash in the shelf, Ebrisa's arm... that blood on his sword. Had he attacked her? When? Why? How did he not remember?

Cole.

The commander crossed the battlements quickly, passing through several rooms before reaching the top of the tavern. There, siting on a crate in the corner and listening to the voices below, was Cole. He sat up straighter when he saw Cullen, then curled back up. “You're angry.”

“I am. Now come with me so that we might discuss it,” Cullen ordered. Sheepishly, Cole got up and followed him to one of the still decrepit rooms. After both doors were closed, the commander folded his arms and gave a stern look. “Now Cole, I need you to answer all of my questions honestly.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I don't like lying.”

“Good.” Cullen let out a breath. “Firstly, did I attack Ebrisa in my office?”

Cole picked at the chipping paint of a broken bed post. “Yes.”

“And you made me forget that?”

“Yes.”

Cullen held the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

The boy looked up. “She asked me to.”

“Then I'm asking you to make me remember. I know you can.” The commander motioned for him to go ahead. “Its not fair to Ebrisa for only her to know.”

Cole moved his head back and forth. “That's true.” He frowned. “Once you remember, I can't make you forget it again.”

“That's fine, Cole,” Cullen sighed. “I don't want you to make me forget anything ever again. Understood?”

“I... yes.” The young man raised his hand and pressed his fingers lightly against Cullen's forehead.

There was a bright flash behind Cullen's vision and he held his head. He recalled having a nightmare with the demon being far angrier than before and attacking him. He attacked back, only it was the real Ebrisa. He'd woken up and tried to kill her. She was so terrified. So hurt. So confused. He remembered the sick feeling that overcame him as she ran away. How much he hated himself...

Cullen stared at the broken roof above him, having fallen over at some point. That explained her shying away from him, her tremblings, but not why she would look ashamed. She did nothing wrong. It was all him. “I... I need to resign.”

“No no no!” Cole crouched down beside him. “That's why she wanted you to forget. Inquisition can't lose Cullen. Not right.”

“But Cole, I-”

“I can get over this, he might not.”

Cullen sat up slowly. “Is that what she said?”

Cole nodded. “She doesn't want to lose you.”

The commander rose to his feet. “Thank you, Cole. I need to go speak with her.”

“Yes. No secrets between you.”

The walk back across the ramparts seemed much longer than he remembered it being as he tried to swallow his disgust. How was Ebrisa still able to look at him, let alone smile? Why couldn't she have forgotten and he harbor this secret? How could she keep this away from him?

“So I hear Commander No-fun socked a noble in the nose,” Sera grinned as he entered his office.

“Unless you'd like a demonstration, move it,” he snapped, detaching his key ring. The elf jumped out of his way and watched him exit the other side, flipping through the keys. He unlocked Ebrisa's door and walked right in without a word, slamming it behind him.

Sera grinned deviously. “Maybe he's gone to get some fun.”

Ebrisa turned around in surprise, attempting to lace her dress. “Cullen, what's going on?”

“You had no right,” he said evenly and angrily. “When I do something heinous, I deserve to know.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She looked away and fumbled nervously with the cords of her dress.

“I'm talking about my trying to kill you!” Cullen shouted.

The mage dropped her hands. “It was an accident. I woke you up from a nightmare and the demon looked like me, so...”

Cullen stilled. “You know about that?”

She looked down and nodded. “So it was an accident. You were defending yourself in the Fade and I brought you back too quickly.”

“An accident makes it no better! If that shelf hadn't been there, I could have done much, much worse! If Cole hadn't stopped me, I-” Cullen held his face in his hand. “Maker, Ebrisa, if I killed you...”

“Do you hate me?” She shouted desperately. “Do you want to hurt me? Do you want me dead?”

“Of course not, that's the whole point!” Cullen snapped.

“Exactly! You didn't mean to hurt me!” Ebrisa waved her hands around, tears forming in her eyes. “It was an accident.”

“But I could have-”

“But you didn't.” Ebrisa cut him off and took hold of his hand. “You didn't do it on purpose, you aren't at fault. Everyone has done something they are unproud of, everyone has made mistakes. Remember?”

Cullen shook his head as his own words were thrown back at him. “You should have let me resign. The Inquisition can survive with any commander.”

“That's not true,” the mage frowned.

“I can name at least three people on staff right now that could take over,” he continued. “Anyone could replace me.”

“Not for me!” Ebrisa clasped his hand tightly and held it to her chest. “Cullen, you can't leave me alone.”

He could feel her heart beating wildly beneath his palm and his own began to match. Surely, she didn't mean it that way. “You have Varric, Dorian, and Blackwall to look out for you,” the commander said slowly as he watched her. “You wouldn't be alone.”

She shook her head furiously. “Its not the same, Cullen. I could be surrounded by a hundred friends, but if you aren't there... my heart feels so lonely. I- I couldn't bare the thought... that's why I asked Ser Cole to stop you from going.” She looked up at him desperately. “Please, don't go.” Ebrisa pressed her forehead to his chest. “You're my one thing I can be selfish about, okay?” There it was. She had sworn to not force her feelings on Cullen, but when it really came down to it, she couldn't stop herself. She had become too dependent on Cullen's warm presence to let him go now. He pushed her back gently and the mage felt a pit form in her stomach and her heart begin to crack. Rejection.

Cullen lifted her chin up with his free hand so she would look at him. There was something in his eyes she couldn't recognize. Something she was unfamiliar with. It wasn't rejection. He slid his hand to her cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “Then I'll stay,” he said softly and lowered his head slowly, drawing closer to her.

She shivered as her eyes fluttered closed. She had wanted to kiss Cullen back in Haven, but couldn't bring herself to do it. If he kissed her now, would that mean he shared her feelings?

“Ebrisa,” he mumbled against her parted lips. So close.

“They stopped yelling. Think they're...” A muffled voice said from behind the door.

“I thought you worked for a spy ring. How do you not know how to eavesdrop?”

Cullen rested his forehead against Ebrisa's and sighed in annoyance. He kicked at the door behind him with his heel, sending the would-be spies squeaking away in surprise. He pulled back and removed his hand from her cheek. Perhaps it was best they were interrupted. Just because Ebrisa didn't want him to leave didn't mean she wanted to be with him like that. He cleared his throat and tried to step away, but she held his hand firmly in place on her still heaving chest. She looked at him hopefully, face flushed.

“D... don't stop,” Ebrisa whispered, surprising herself. She dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “I... I mean... if you still want to...” Maker, what was she doing? This went beyond selfish.

Cullen slipped his fingers into her damp hair, drawing the Herald's attention. “I want to.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, then firmer with a need he didn't realize he had and she melted against him. He knew it was wrong to do this, that it wasn't appropriate and that there couldn't really be anything between them. He knew that, but she was so warm and accepting as her lips trembled against his. She smelled of wildflowers and tasted like honey and the way she sighed softly into the kiss struck Cullen's very core with warmth and longing. How could something that he knew was wrong feel so right?

Ebrisa's body felt like it was on fire and she slowly released Cullen's hand so she could grip his arms for support. She felt like there was nothing but him – not even air – and her senses threatened to overload from his dominating presence. Her legs wobbled under her as he broke the kiss, leaving her panting and dazed and yearning for more. Definitely better that she hadn't kissed him in Haven. There was no way she would have been able to face Corypheus like this.

Cullen couldn't help but smirk as he watched her recover. If one kiss did that, he couldn't imagine what reactions she'd have in more intimate situations. Didn't stop his mind from trying.

Ebrisa slowly smiled. “That was better than I hoped...” she mumbled.

The commander chuckled. “And how long had you been hoping?”

Her eyes shot open and she blushed, ducking her head against his chest to hid her face. “I- I don't feel like answering at the moment...” Sweet Maker, did she say that out loud?

“I suppose I'll let that slid for now, then.” He ran his fingers through her damp hair. “But no more secrets.”

Ebrisa looked up at him. “I promise. No more memory erasing either.”

“Good.” Cullen pulled away and made to leave. “I'd like to be able to remember everything about you I can.”

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for people to figure out something had happened between the commander and the Herald. The two couldn't look at one another without smiling and if they stood near each other for more than a few minutes, Ebrisa would begin to blush and fidget. Since neither party would say anything, people were left to speculate. Unfortunately, the fortress was full of people with very active imaginations and numerous theories began to pop up. Rumors spread wildly across Skyhold and even the Chantry sisters would whisper gossip back and forth. Never around Mother Giselle, of course.

Ebrisa sat in the garden with a cup of tea and a basket of thread at her side on the bench. It was oddly quiet in the yard that morning and she kept looking around for the chanters that usually worked that hour. It was almost as if they were avoiding her. She hummed quietly and cut the needle free on the underside of her embroidery design, preparing to switch colors.

“What are you doing?” Kieran walked up to her and stared at the fabric in her hands.

“Oh, good morning.” The Herald smiled warmly, an action she couldn't seem to stop recently. “I'm just doing some needlepoint. My mother will be visiting again and I thought I should make her something.” She set the supplies in the basket.

“You look very happy,” he said with a smile.

“Well, that's because I am happy.” Ebrisa took a sip of her tea.

“Is it because of the baby inside you?”

The mage dropped the cup and started chocking. She stared at Kieran with wide, questioning eyes but couldn't stop coughing long enough to say anything. “I heard a Chantry lady say it.” The boy explained. “The commander put a baby in you.”

Ebrisa blushed furiously and shook her head, waving her arms to try and convey a “no” as she kept coughing. When it finally passed and she could breath normally, she looked the boy in the eye. “Master Kieran, there is no baby inside me. Cullen and I haven't – it was one kiss!” She put her hands on her flaming cheeks. “What else are people saying?” Kieran opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a hand. “On second thought, I think I'd rather not know.”

“So, there's no baby?” Kieran seemed sad.

“No, there's not.” The mage moved to the ground to retrieve the broken pieces of porcelain. She would have to order an entire new service set.

Kieran picked up a shard in an attempt to help and sliced his finger on the sharp edge, dropping the piece instantly. “Ouch!” He held out his hand and watched the blood slowly drip to the ground.

“Oh!” Ebrisa dropped what she had gathered and snatched up the cloth from her basket, holding it against the cut. “Master Kieran, you should have let me clean up my own mess.” She frowned in concern and slowly removed the cloth to examine his finger. He watched her soundlessly as she lightly brushed her glowing fingers over his injury. She wiped away the blood, removing all trace of harm from the boy. “There. All better.”

“You're gift,” Kieran frowned at the stained needlework in the Herald's hand.

“Oh...” Ebrisa sighed. She would have to start again. “Its alright. You were more important.” She smiled at the boy and tapped his nose before placing the broken cup pieces on the ruined cloth.

Kieran reached out and patted her head. “That's why you'd make a good mother.” Ebrisa looked up at him in surprise, but he only smiled and ran off.

Truthfully, the idea hadn't crossed her mind before. She'd never really thought herself “good” at anything and wasn't around children much. Being the youngest in her family, she hadn't even held a baby in her arms. She was certain she only got along with Kieran because she spent so many years imagining she could still play with her siblings. Did that make her a good mother or a child at heart?

She shook her head and gathered up her things. Better to leave those thoughts for when she was actually with child. Ebrisa stilled. If she became with child. She meant if.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With all the rumors flying around, Ebrisa began to worry what Cullen may have heard, especially once she noticed the soldiers smirking at her oddly. She reached out to knock on his door, but stopped once she saw it was already open.

“Look, now is just not the best time to do this. You're in pain and unfocused and its starting to effect your work!” Hawke slammed her hand on the desk. “You said you could do this, and I wanted to believe you, but now it's just... After we defeat Corypheus, you can do all the soul searching you want, but right now I need the templar I knew in Kirkwall to lead my army.”

“That man was filled with hate and anger, Hawke. You do not want him.” Cullen sighed, almost pleading.

“Just take it, okay? I can't stand to see you this way, Cullen. We can find another way – a safer way - later, but I won't let this withdrawal kill you.” Hawke walked out the other door, leaving Cullen to stare at the worn kit on his desk. He clenched a fist and swatted it across the room with a furious shout, sending it crashing against the door frame inches from Ebrisa's head. She cried out and raised her arms, chunks of broken wood bouncing off her sleeves.

“Maker's Breath! I didn't know you were there, I-” Cullen held his head and sighed. “Forgive me.”

“Are you alright?” Ebrisa crossed the room and looked at him worriedly. “The Inquisitor said something was... killing you?”

He leaned on his desk and closed his eyes. “It's not killing me. It's headaches, mostly. Makes it hard to think sometimes. If I push myself too much, the pain is worse.”

She touched his arm gently. “What is it? Can I do anything to help?”

Cullen smiled lightly at her concern. “Its lyrium. Or rather, its no lyrium. I've been trying to break its hold on me.”

Ebrisa studied his slouched form. So tired, so drained. “How long have you been suffering like this?”

“It's not always this bad. I was doing quite well for a while. The Inquisitor supported my decision. Well, except for at Therinfall.” He sighed.

That's why he was so drained after shielding her from the red templars. He was using his templar abilities without lyrium to power it. That's why he was the last one to drink a philter before working on the barrier. “And something changed? The Inquisitor didn't sound very supportive a moment ago.”

Cullen dropped his head and pulled away, moving the the window. “Memories and waking dreams sometimes fill my vision. I can usually control it, but today in the war room... I just couldn't. I was out of it for a little while... Josephine was not terribly thrilled by my outbursts.”

“What happened?”

He was quiet for a long while. “I... I never told you what happened in the Fereldan Circle. Why I transferred to Kirkwall.” He shook his head, unsure if he should keep going.

The mage moved beside him again. “Cullen?”

“It was taken over by abominations. The templars – my friends – were slaughtered.” Cullen began, feeling the anger rising at the memory. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I-” he laughed tiredly. “How can you be the same person after that? I was locked in a magical prison for... weeks, months...? I can't even recall. When the Hero of Fereldan came to free the Circle, I pleaded with her to not let a single mage survive. They had been surrounded by blood magic and demons and there was no way any were left untainted. They all had to die... I convinced her to slay them, because I thought they couldn't be trusted. I thought they deserved no less.”

Ebrisa felt a lump form in her throat. She had no idea he had suffered so much at the hands of mages. That he lost so much... How could he even look at her? Wasn't she a constant reminder of these terrible things?

“Still, I wanted to serve,” Cullen continued, sounding as if he found his own choices ridiculous. “They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness.” He looked out the window, as if seeing everything playing out before him. “Kirkwall's Circle fell... Innocent people died in the streets...”

“But that wasn't your fault...” Ebrisa tried to console him, reaching out for his arm again.

“Wasn't it?” He turned to her angrily and swatted her hand away. “I knew Meredith was strict, but I didn't look into anything. I should have checked that the mages were being treated at least a little decently, but I was filled with almost as much fear of them as she was. I trusted her judgment and followed her orders... only standing up to her at the very end, when it was already far too late.” Cullen rubbed at his eyes. “I didn't even see mages as people. I wouldn't have cared for...” He sighed heavily. “The idea just... sickens me. I can't go back to being that man. I can't have anything to do with that life.”

The Herald was silent, slowly taking in what he said. He had confided some terrible truths, some devastatingly painful memories. She couldn't let him suffer any more and looked at him sternly. “Then don't.”

“Its not that easy...” Cullen groaned. “The Inquisitor-”

“-Is only worried about you. She doesn't want you to fall to madness or hatred. I don't either.” Ebrisa took hold of his hand and looked down at it. “You're strong, Cullen. I know you can overcome this, and I'll do whatever I can to help you. If... if that means not being reminded of the Circles, I can... stay away. If that will help...” She trailed off and rubbed her thumbs across the back of his hand.

“No! That - I mean, that's not necessary.” Cullen shifted his feet awkwardly as he watched her lightly massage his hand. “I find your presence rather soothing, actually...”

She smiled and raised her eyes. “Then don't take the lyrium, and when it gets bad, just come get me.”

“But Hawke ordered...” he sighed and shook his head. Going against the Inquisitor's orders was certainly a bad idea, but Ebrisa vote of confidence in him pushed Cullen towards doing just that. Her reassuring smile and soft touch leaned him further towards agreeing and the look in her bright eyes made him think he might actually succeed. Maybe it could work. Maybe, with Ebrisa's support, he could do this. “Very well.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something forceful and dramatic about Tevinter music. Ebrisa had studied the sheet music for days, trying to figure it out. She'd practice in the Fade for nights on end and only now felt comfortable enough with the piece to play it on a real harp. She by no means had it memorized yet, but an unfamiliar dwarf offered to hold the sheets for her and flip them when she nodded.

“Name's Dagna, your glowiness. Inquisitor just brought me on board and I gotta say, being this close to you is pretty exciting.” The dwarf beamed as she readied the papers.

Ebrisa smiled at her before taking a breath and beginning the tricky piece. It started small, but built like a storm and crashed against itself. The song was still beautiful, just so very much unlike the Chantry tunes the mage had grown up with. The end crescendoed and demanded numerous fast paced trills, but Ebrisa focused and finished strong with a single, low pluck. She let out a weary sigh and shook her hands. That was intense.

“Wow. You are good at that,” Dagna smiled. “Does your anchor mark ever flare up when you play?”

“You did it.”

Ebrisa turned to the voice and found Dorian holding his hands over his heart, eyes brimming with tears. “I didn't think I could hear any music from my homeland down here, but you did it.”

The Herald smiled sheepishly. “Well, you did make a request, Master Pavus. Did it sound right?”

The Tevinter shook his head. “No, Master Pavus sounds terrible. I insist you call me Dorian.”

“But I...”

“How about we split the difference for now? Master Dorian?”

Ebrisa nodded. “Very well, Master Dorian.” She placed her hands back over the strings. “Would you like to hear it again?”

He wiped his eyes and smiled. “Yes, please.”

Chapter Text

In her endeavor to help Cullen, Ebrisa had been trying to research a way to counteract the effects of lyrium withdrawal, but was startled to find very little on the topic. Besides a small piece by Brother Genitivi, there was barely any indication that templars suffered at all from the abuse of the substance. She supposed it made sense that the Chantry would try and hide the fact, but it made the mage sad and disappointed. What other problems were the Chantry keeping secret?

So now instead of looking for a cure, the mage was trying to find the best ways to alleviate the symptoms. Dorian explained that Tevinter's templars were nothing like those in the South. He smirked as he muttered something under his breath, only to say louder that it was something he found adorable about the Herald. Vivienne had scoffed at the idea of templars trying to break their leash at all, but Solas pointed Ebrisa to some books on healing magic to consult and she began slipping markers into promising spells. The one she was reading in the garden now had a rather simple way to help with headaches and she hummed thoughtfully at the application technique. There was a sudden pressure on her legs and she lowered the book to find a small child with straw colored hair swatting at her skirts and giggling.

“Fluffy!” He looked up at her. “Ello! I Jayden. You fluffy.”

“Oh. Hello there.” She tucked a leaf into the book and set it aside. “Where did you come from?”

“Horsie cart!” The child grinned widely.

Ebrisa laughed. She hadn't meant how did he arrive in Skyhold, but that did technically answer her question. “Where is your mother, Jayden?”

“Mama home.” He continued to swat at her layers of skirt.

“Okay. And your father?”

“Papa home!”

“I see...” She looked around the empty yard. Someone had to be looking for the child, he was so little. She couldn't let him wander around alone... “Do you want to hear a story?”

Jayden's eyes light up and he plopped down onto her legs. “Yes, please. Stowy.” He nodded emphatically, shaking the adorable mop of curls on his head

“Alright then, let's see.” She adjusted herself on the grass and pulled the boy onto her lap as she thought. “There once was a bard from Montsimmard...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen sighed and crossed the main hall. Josephine had called for him by runner, but hadn't said what it was about - that usually meant she wanted him to do something he wouldn't enjoy. When he heard laughter inside her office, his suspicion only grew. Cullen threw open the door with a groan. “Yes, ambassador, what is it?”

Josephine looked up from the two women sitting on the couch and grinned before nodding at them. The women jumped up and ran over to him. “Surprise!” They shouted as they threw their arms around him.

“What is this?” Cullen was definitely surprised as the women pulled away.

“Told you he wouldn't recognize us,” the younger one with copper freckles across her nose huffed.

“Well you, of course not, but how could he forget me?” The older one smirked.

The commander slowly looked between the blonde women. They couldn't be. “Mia? Rosalie?”

“And he remembers!” Mia grinned widely.

Cullen picked her up in a huge hug, laughing loudly. “I don't believe this!” He set her down and turned to his little sister, looking her over. “So this is what a grown up brat looks like?”

“Hey! You big jerk,” Rosalie swatted his chest before throwing her arms around his neck in another hug, which he enthusiastically returned.

“I don't understand. What are you both doing here?” Cullen couldn't stop smiling.

“Your Antivan friend invited us.” Mia motioned behind her.

“You see,” Josephine began as she tried to keep her giggling under control. “The Lady Herald mentioned that you hadn't seen your family in so long and kept saying how sad that was. I reached out to your elder sister and she jumped at the chance.”

“Branson couldn't get away, but we brought the next best thing.” Rosalie grinned and turned around, nearly smacking her brother with the end of her braid. She stilled. “Ooooooh, shoot. Where'd he go?”

Mia spun around. “You have got to be kidding.” They darted around Josephine's office and checked under the furniture. “Oh, Branson is going to kill us.”

“Us?” Rosalie folded her arms defensively. “You're the responsible one.”

Cullen raised a brow. “And what exactly have you misplaced?”

“A toddler.” Josephine sighed, holding her head in her hands. “He can't have gotten far.”

They quickly split up and began checking rooms and stairwells for any sign of the child. They met back in the main hall, unsuccessful. Mia ran her fingers through her shoulder length hair frantically. “Oh, I am never going to be allowed to babysit again!”

“Did anyone check the garden?” Josephine panted. She wasn't meant for so much running.

The Rutherfords looked at each other. “This way.” Cullen lead them through a side door and out into the sunlight, pausing at the sight of Ebrisa holding a small child in her lap. She looked so happy and at ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I think not, said the dragon. That bear promised me breakfast!” Ebrisa moved her hands to Jayden's side and tickled him, making exaggerated gobbling noises. The boy giggled loudly and the mage joined him as she continued to scurry her fingers.

“Jayden Edgar Rutherford!” Mia shouted loudly across the garden as she rushed over angrily. The boy scrambled to his feet and stood at attention, Ebrisa looking at him curiously. Rutherford?

Mia plopped her hand on the child's head and squatted down to frown at him. “You know you aren't supposed to run off. We had a surprise, remember?”

The boy covered his mouth. “Oh no.”

“That's right. Now thank the nice lady for watching you so we can do the surprise.” Mia stood back up and nodded at the mage.

“Tank'u, Fluffy!”

Ebrisa smiled and tapped her finger on his nose. “You are very welcome, Jayden.”

“Now then,” Mia steered the boy around and brought him before Cullen. “Ready?”

Jayden threw his arms in the air. “Surprise, Unkie Cul!”

Ebrisa's heart fluttered as she watched Cullen kneel down slowly before the child in wonder. He held out a hand awkwardly as if to shake the boy's hand, but Jayden jumped into his arms instead. Cullen laughed lightly and hugged the child as he looked him over. “I didn't know Branson had a son. Mia, why didn't you ever mention this?”

“How about you let us know the next time you survive a catastrophic event and I'll tell you when you get a new niece or nephew, deal?” Mia grinned and folded her arms.

“Family hug!” Jayden called out.

“That's the signal.” Rosalie smirked and plopped onto her kneeling brother, Mia following suit.

“Stop it,” Cullen grumbled. “You'll crush the child.”

“Nonsense. You'll keep him safe.” Rosalie nuzzled her face in his fur lining. “What is this? I like this.”

Ebrisa covered her mouth with both hands, but couldn't stop it. She laughed loudly at the scene, tears forming in her eyes as she giggled profusely. When she had spoken to Josephine, she never imagined this outcome. She had thought Cullen would be given a fake mission to South Reach or something like that, but to see Cullen with his sisters and a tiny, little nephew was just too much. Her heart might explode.

Cullen blushed in embarrassment at the sound and tried to shake his sisters off.

“Fluffy laughing,” Jayden giggled.

“Yes. Yes she is.” Cullen sighed.

“Her name isn't really Fluffy, I take it?” Mia grinned.

“Of course not. It's Ebrisa.”

Mia sighed and reluctantly detached herself. “Okay, I think we've humiliated you enough for now.”

Rosalie climbed off with a huff. “But its so soft...”

Ebrisa retrieved the book and stood up from the grass. She came over to them and smiled warmly, happy tears still framing her eyes. “Its good to meet you, Lady Mia. Lady Rosalie.” The mage frowned slightly. For some reason, that just didn't sound right. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Oh, of course. I've never seen my big brother this big before,” Rosalie chuckled.

Cullen stood up beside the mage, holding Jayden on his side, and turned to Mia. “Now that the surprises are over, how long will you be staying?”

“Trying to push us out already?” Mia frowned, mocking hurt.

“Its a legitimate question! I do still have work to do and need to know how to adjust my schedule,” he shot back.

“I don't understand,” Kieran said suddenly and the group turned to face the new arrival. “You said there wasn't a baby inside you, but where did he come from?”

“Master Kieran!” Ebrisa whispered harshly.

“He looks more like the commander than like you.”

“No, stop stop!” The mage blushed furiously. “Th-that's Cullen's nephew! He's not our – we don't have – we haven't – his nephew!” Ebrisa covered her face with the book. Just let a rift swallow her up now, please.

“Unkie Cul face red.” Jayden reached out and patted Cullen's blushing cheek.

“Is it now?” Mia grinned slowly, exchanging a look with her sister.

“I, um, I have to go. Please, excuse me.” Ebrisa stammered and awkwardly tried to move past the group without letting them see her burning face. It didn't work.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Though he loved his sisters and had missed them dearly, Cullen could not abandon his duties. This, unfortunately, made the women available to the other members of the inner circle. Varric and Hawke took turns asking embarrassing questions about their commander's childhood and Mia was more than happy to answer them.

“Ooh, I got one.” Sera looked up from the floor where she and Jayden were playing with straw dolls. She glanced down at the boy and covered his ears for a moment. “First lay.”

“Sera!” Hawke threw her head back in laughter. “He left home at thirteen!”

“Also, I would not have been the one to tell.” Mia smirked and shook her head. “Maybe Branson, but not me.”

“Aw, piss,” the elf grumbled.

Jayden put his hand over her mouth and frowned. “No swear.”

“Sorry, sorry...” She hunched her shoulders and went back to playing.

“I'm going to borrow that line of thought a bit.” Varric smiled. “First crush.”

“Oh yes, that's a good one.” The older sister moved to the edge of her seat. “Cullen was five. There was this merchant family coming down from Sulcher's Pass and they damaged their wagon, so they had to stay in the village for the day to fix it. The father spent most of the time trying to sell some of their newly acquired Orlesian wares, but Honnleath isn't exactly full of rich people. So while he was doing that, the mother and little girl wandered around and took in all the three sights our village had to offer – the most impressive being, of course, the stone statue on the hill. My brothers were climbing on the thing, because idiots, and Cullen fell off and landed flat on his back. It was hilarious.” Mia grinned.

“So anyways, the little girl stood over him and asked if he was okay and his whole face went red and he couldn't say a thing. The mother lead her away and Cullen followed them for the rest of the day, hiding behind corners and crates and just being all around sneaky. When the family left, Cullen came home with an awestruck look on his face. I was furious with him for leaving Branson alone, but Cullen was convinced the little girl was an angel. I asked him why he didn't talk to her and he just blushed and rubbed his neck and said that angels were too special for normal people.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “He didn't get much better talking to girls before he left.”

Varric nearly snorted. “That ending sounds pretty familiar.”

“And he still doesn't know how to talk to girls,” Hawke laughed.

Rosalie tilted her head curiously. “Really? Then how are he and that Ebrisa a thing?”

“They what now?” Sera pushed herself up from the floor.

“Did he say that?” Hawke's eyes went wide.

“Well, no...” Rosalie looked to her sister with a smirk. “But they were all kinds of adorable blushes when we found her playing with Jayden.”

“Fluffy?” the child looked up.

“That's right, Jayden. We're talking about Miss Fluffy.” Mia chuckled. “Who is she anyways? Herbalist? Researcher?”

“Herald,” Varric answered. “Though the tyke has a knack for giving names. I might start throwing in Fluffy once in a while, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosalie carried her nephew down the steep stairs and set him down in the lower yard with a sigh. “Why are there so many steps in this place? You are going to break my back, little man.” She took hold of his hand and walked towards the stables, the boy pulling forward eagerly.

“Horsiiiiiies!” He urged.

“Yes, yes. We are going to see the horsies,” Rosalie moaned tiredly. She stopped walking and covered her mouth with both hands to hide her yawn, eyes squeezing shut. Jayden ran off at full speed.

The stable hands were cleaning the pens three at a time and tied the displaced mounts to the well as they worked. Ebrisa offered to help, but they refused before she could finish talking and so she sat down to read in the sun instead. The horses pulled repeatedly at their restraints, eager to move about the open yard. A giggle cut through their whinnies and Ebrisa looked up curiously in time to see the toddler running at the stomping horses. She dropped the book and rushed to the child, scooping him up inches from the rearing hooves. The mage held him protectively to her chest, cradling his head against her neck, as she turned sternly to the horses.

“Dane, Hafter, Cal!”

The horses turned to her and stopped pulling.

“I know you want to go play, but you need to pay attention!” Ebrisa huffed, frowning in disapproval. The mounts lowered their heads and began to nudge each other, as if shifting blame. She eased her tight hold on the boy and pulled back. “Are you alright, Jayden?”

“Wanna play horsies,” he mumbled, reaching out to the animals.

“Horsies are very fun, but they are also very big. You can't just run up to them. You need to approach them with respect,” she chided gently and the boy looked down. Ebrisa felt a pang of guilt for scolding him. She wasn't even related, it wasn't her place. “Do you want me to show you?”

Jayden looked up at her. “Yes please, Fluffy.”

Ebrisa smiled timidly and walked to the mounts. She reached out and stroked the chestnut horse's neck. “This is Dane. He's one of Master Dennet's Fereldan Forders.” The horse nickered and raised its head, appreciating the petting. “He likes bananas and getting pet right here,” the mage said softly and stroked the animal above the eyes. “Do you want to try?” Jayden held out his hand and reared it back, as if to swat. Ebrisa took hold of it and moved his hand slowly into place, guiding the boy with a few pets before letting him continue on his own. “Good job.”

The boy grinned widely. “Ride horsie?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, but these horses are too big for you.” Ebrisa felt genuinely distraught at the disheartening pout that overtook Jayden's face and she looked around desperately for something to remove it. Her eyes fell on the workshop and she grinned slowly. “I know something that might be just your size.”

By the time Rosalie realized she lost her nephew, he was already moments away from being trampled. The air caught in her throat as she began to run, but came out in a thankful sigh as the Herald picked up the child. She watched with an amused smirk as the mage scolded the horses and boy in turn before letting him pet one of the creatures. Rosalie nearly laughed out loud at the panic that overtook the Herald and decided to finally intervene, but the mage smiled suddenly and hurried off to the building beside the stables. Rosalie continued to follow and entered the dark building to find Ebrisa kneeling on the ground before the boy. Rosalie glanced up the stairs to Cullen's office and quietly slipped away.

“You need to get that roof fixed,” Mia sighed as she looked up the ladder. “You'll get sick before too long, and then where will your Inquisition be?”

“Yes, I've been chastised about that already,” Cullen remarked as he tried to finish up his work. Mia had been pestering him for more than a little while to give them an official tour, but he insisted he needed to complete one more thing.

Rosalie threw open the side door with a huge grin on her face. “You two need to come see this.”

“Where's Jayden?” Mia frowned.

“That's what you need to see!” The younger sister motioned encouragingly with her head and they reluctantly followed her to the workshop.

Jayden rocked back and forth on a wooden griffon toy, laughing excitedly.

“Well, what have we here?” Mia smiled and folded her arms.

Ebrisa turned to them slowly, hands over her mouth and eyes shining. “He fits.” She turned back to the child and continued to watch, stifling her high pitched squeals and giggles.

“Jayden, are you riding a griffon?” Cullen laughed lightly. “Where ever did you get one?”

“Fluffy find!” The boy giggled out.

“Ser Blackwall made it a while ago,” Ebrisa began in a strained voice. “It was just here, and, um, ah!” She jumped to her feet and spun away from the scene. “It's too adorable! I- I can't!”

Cullen chuckled as the mage covered her face and squirmed, finding her reaction far cuter than his nephew. He blushed lightly as the thought struck him and looked away quickly, but not before his sisters noticed.

Chapter Text

Ebrisa folded her arms and stared at the open crate of newly arrived books. She knew Varric had been writing for some time, but it never occurred to her that there would be so many volumes in each series. Since he took the effort to get her his stories, the least she could do was read them... but where to start? She picked up the first volume of The Dasher's Men and Sword and Shields tilting her head in thought.

“Herald?” Cassandra walked up to the mage, curious as to why she had been standing by the front gate for so long.

“Hmm?” Ebrisa turned to face the warrior, exposing the items in her hands. “Oh, Seeker Pentaghast.”

The Nevarran gasped quietly at the books, recognizing the back covers instantly. “You are a fan of Varric's literary works?”

The mage looked down sheepishly. “Can't say I am... yet. They've only just arrived and I haven't read anything – I didn't know if I should read chronologically or jump in to a more recent work.”

“Well, the most recent would be The Tale of The Champion.” Cassandra moved over to the crate and pulled out the second volume of Sword and Shields, flipping it open. “This is a first edition..” She stared in awe at the book, then quickly set it down and picked up the story of Hawke instead. “This one is a best seller.”

Ebrisa hesitated. “I actually don't think I'll read that. It would be a bit like peeking at the Inquisitor's journal... and Master Varric's... and Cullen's...”

“Nearly everyone has read it already, there is no harm. Besides, Varric's heavy handed flare for the fantastical is quite evident.”

“Still, the reason Master Varric got me these was to experience fiction, not historical fiction.” Ebrisa went back to the books in her hands. “It will be my first time reading a tale completely fabricated. This is an important decision...”

Cassandra placed the book back in the crate and glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby. She leaned in to the mage with a small blush on her cheeks. “I would recommend Sword and Shields, but it may be a bit... intense for you. Those love poems did not seem to agree with your... standards.” Cassandra paused and hummed in thought. “Though, that was a while ago and I suppose you are more in touch with your intimate side now, so maybe...”

“In touch with...” Ebrisa furrowed her brow. “Seeker Pentaghast, what are you referring to?”

“Well, you and...” Cassandra trailed off, studying the confusion on the mage's face. “You haven't.” She huffed in irritation as she realized her mistake. “It would seem I should not believe half of what I hear in the barracks. Apologies, Herald.”

“Oh, no, that's alright...” the blonde mumbled quietly, unsure what she was talking about. “Do you still recommend the book?”

“Absolutely! It is my favorite serial and volume three is where it really delves into the romance between-” The Seeker froze, suddenly aware of her admission. She took a moment to reign her expression back to something somber. “Forget that you know this about me.”

“That you enjoy romance novels?” Ebrisa began to gather up more books. “Why would I want to forget that?”

Cassandra blushed further. “You don't find it... odd of me?”

“Doesn't everyone like a good love story?” The mage stretched down to grab another book for the stack in her arms.

“I suppose they do, but if you could, perhaps, keep this discovery to yourself, I would be grateful.” The Seeker picked up the remaining books and forced a frown to take some control over the burning on her cheeks. “Now then, where are these going?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was very difficult to try and make free time for his family, but Cullen vowed to spend as much of it with them as possible. This meant that he would cram twice the amount of work into his schedule early in the day so the afternoons and evenings could be spent with them. It had worked out fairly well at first, but the stress was beginning to wear on him. Today he struggled to keep the painful visions away and worked well into the late afternoon, unable to focus long enough to complete more than a few tasks. Mia came by a few times, insisting he unlock the door and come out of the office, but he declined quickly. He couldn't let them see him like this - they already worried about him enough.

“Cullen? Can I come in?” Ebrisa called through the door. Hesitantly, he stood up and turned the latch to allow her entry. She opened the door slowly and looked him over. “Are you alright? You've been in here all day.”

He sighed. “There's just a lot of work I need to do. I can only delegate so much.” Cullen pushed off from the shelf he had been holding on to and moved back for his desk. He staggered after a few steps and held his head. It was like a spear in his brain. Ebrisa grabbed hold of him as best she could, afraid he would fall over. “I'm alright. It's just a headache...”

“You've been pushing yourself too much today, is that it?” She frowned in concern before glancing around the room. “Come on, sit here.” The mage lead him to a low-back chair and stood behind him, hesitantly. “Now, I haven't done this before, so you'll have to let me know if it works.”

“If what works?” Cullen hunched forward slightly.

Ebrisa recited a spell softly and gently placed her hands on the back of Cullen's neck. He inhaled sharply at the tingling in her finger tips, but didn't pull away as she rubbed her thumbs in circles against the base of his skull and slowly worked her way down the back of his neck. Ebrisa slid her thumbs straight up along the spine before repeating the motion a few more times.

“What are you...?” Cullen mumbled quietly and closed his eyes.

“Easing muscle tension and relaxing the pressure on your nerves and blood vessels. It should help with headaches... I've done a lot of research on this.” She slipped her hands into his hair, fanning out her fingers to massage his scalp in firm, but soothing strokes as he began to lean into her movements. The mage repositioned her fingers on his temples and rubbed in slow, circular motions, occasionally running the still tingling fingertips across his forehead before sweeping back to the side. That's when Cullen lost all semblance of thought and leaned against her, moaning softly. Ebrisa stilled momentarily before continuing the soothing head massage.

With the door open, Mia wouldn't take 'no' for an answer this time. She'd drag her brother out by his ear if need be. “Come on now, you need a...” She paused and took in the sight before her. “Break.”

Cullen was leaning fully against the Herald, eyes closed, and making quiet noises of appreciation as she massaged his head. It was possibly the most relaxed Mia had ever seen her brother. By contrast, Ebrisa was blushing furiously, but continued her task dutifully with the back of the commander's head resting on her breasts. As Mia stood in the doorway trying to decide if she should interrupt, Rosalie and Jayden came up behind her. The younger sister hummed curiously at the pair, but the toddler in her grasp only waved his arms.

“Unkie Cul! Fluffy! Food time!” He shouted excitedly, causing the two to turn to the open door.

Ebrisa blushed harder and shook the spell from her hands, looking away from all Rutherfords. Cullen was still too relaxed and out of it to realize what he had been doing and slowly stood up. “It's that late already? I must have worked straight through lunch then.” He smiled lightly at his sisters and nephew. “I'll finish my work in the morning. I've ignored you enough for one day.”

“Yes you have,” Rosalie huffed, holding out Jayden. “He's been absolutely brooding all afternoon that you wouldn't play with him.”

Cullen took his nephew into his arms and sighed. “Apologies. I wasn't having any fun, if that makes you feel better.”

Jayden folded his arms and pouted. “Nu uh. You play wif Fluffy.”

Ebrisa fidgeted in the center of the room. “No, see, I was helping Cullen with a headache. Too much working is bad for him, but he won't listen, so...”

“He never does, your worship.” Mia sighed before grinning at the mage. “Though if anyone can get him to listen, it would be the Lady Herald of Andraste.”

Ebrisa laughed lightly and shook her head. “I'll do my best.”

“You do realize I'm standing right here?” Cullen muttered before leading the group to the main hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Mia began as she moved a chess piece. “We need to have a discussion.”

“And what is it that I've done now?” Cullen studied the board carefully.

“The Herald of Andraste.”

“Yes? What of Ebrisa?” He slid a piece forward.

The older sister quickly took her turn and leaned back in the gazebo's chair. “What, exactly, is going on between you two?”

Cullen stared at the carved figurines. “Nothing, really.”

“You're still a terrible liar,” she sighed.

He took his turn and rubbed at his neck, still remembering the feel of Ebrisa's fingers there. “We... we shared a kiss. One.”

Mia hummed softly as she took in the hint of a smile that threatened to overtake his stoic expression. “Do you care for her?”

The garden was quiet, empty of everyone save the two siblings, yet Cullen was reluctant to answer. Saying it out loud would make his feelings real. “I do. More than I thought I could. ”

“So you care for her, kissed her, yet claim there is nothing going on between you?” She frowned in confusion and moved a piece. “Do you want there to be something?”

His hand hesitated over the board. “I do... but there can't be.”

“Because you're a templar and she's a mage?” Mia raised a brow. “Does the Order still hold so much over you?”

“No, that's not...” he sighed and clenched his hand closed. “Whatever I may want or hope for, the fact remains that she's the Herald. I allowed myself a moment of weakness when I kissed her, but we can't - she's too important.”

Mia scoffed at the remark and folded her arms. Now she understood Varric's comment about her story. “Cullen, she's a woman of flesh and blood. Her entire life doesn't revolved around serving the Maker.”

“But she-”

“If the Maker's Bride could have a mortal husband and children, then why can't her Herald have a normal relationship with someone?” Mia cut him off, annoyed. “You said you want more, but don't think you can have it.” She let out a breath and shook her head. “Cullen, have you given any thought to what she wants?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a decent size turnout to see the visiting Rutherfords off, despite it being so early in the morning. Blackwall officially gave the rocking griffon to Jayden, saying he only made it to keep his hands busy and that he looked forward to seeing the lad in Weisshaupt one day. Sera snuck a pie into their cart and pressed her finger to her lip, indicating for the boy to keep it a secret. He mimicked the action with both hands and the elf laughed loudly.

“Don't be a stranger, Cullen.” Mia gave him a final squeeze. “You still have a brother to visit, remember?”

“I will try and make it to South Reach after this war is over.” Cullen smiled softly before turning to Rosalie and hugging her as well.

“Hear that? He promised.” The little sister laughed. She turned to the Herald and grinned. “Now you make sure he keeps it, Ebrisa.”

The mage's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. “I... of course.”

“Well I do feel better knowing we have Ebrisa on our side to keep him in line.” Mia nodded, a sly grin on her face.

Jayden tugged on the Herald's skirts and raised up his arms, asking her to pick him up with his cute pout. Though she was a little dazed by the women, she eagerly complied and scooped up the child in a big hug. “Fluffy will miss you.”

“No.” The child turned his head away.

“Yes I will.” Ebrisa planted a light kiss on top of his head.

“Not Fluffy,” he giggled before kissing his hand and patting it to her cheek. “Bye bye. Auntie Briza.”

The mage stood frozen in place as she stared at him, slowly lifting her gaze to his aunts. After they discovered she was the Herald of Andraste, the women both began addressing her as such, tossing in awkward honorifics. For whatever reason, they had all decided to stop doing that and she felt a weight she hadn't realized lift from her heart. It was like they were acknowledging her as one of them – something she hadn't felt like in a long, long time.

Jayden wiped at the quiet tears on the mage's cheeks and turned to Cullen in a panic. “Unkie Cul, fix it.”

The commander took Jayden into his own arms and ruffled his curly hair. “It's alright. Auntie Ebrisa is just happy.” He hugged the boy and gave him a kiss on the head as well before handing him off to Rosalie on the cart. “Now all of you take care. We've tried to keep the pass as safe as possible, but the mountains can be unpredictable.” He paused a moment. “Perhaps we should get you an escort...”

“My unit volunteers, Commander.” One of the officers saluted. “We'll see them safely through.” Cullen smiled and nodded at the captain, a look of relief evident on his face.

The small crowd watched Cullen's family and men pass through the gates before returning to their duties and life as usual. Only Cullen and Ebrisa stayed until the group had disappeared from sight, the mage smiling softly as her eyes shimmered.

“Thank you, Ebrisa,” Cullen said softly. “If you hadn't spoken to Josephine, I don't know when I would have been able to see them.”

“Not at all. You deserved it.” She smiled brightly at him. “So that's what Fereldan families are like? How fun.”

He looked at her, seeing the joy she got from making him happy, and wanted to hold her tightly. After he abandoned his chess game with Mia, he had been thinking a lot about what his sister had said. Did Ebrisa want to be with him? He could tell she cared for him, even if she was too shy or nervous to say it, but that didn't mean she wanted a relationship. It occurred to him that maybe she didn't think herself worthy of one, given the way her mother treated her, and the thought saddened him and he had to turn away.

“I'm sure you'll see them again before you know it,” Ebrisa offered, taking his sudden change in behavior to be about his family. “Mia said she'd keep you up to date with Jayden, so you won't miss a thing.”

“Yes,” Cullen sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. Excuse me.”

The mage watched him leave curiously, unsure what she had said wrong.

Chapter Text

“Riders approaching!” Someone called down to the yard. Skyhold was on edge, despite the advanced warning, and Ebrisa frantically ran through the preparations in her mind. She'd practiced her mother's favorite song, ensured the guest rooms were sufficiently prepared, had all the mounts groomed thoroughly and all the saddles polished, remade the embroidered handkerchief...

“Would you take a breath?” Hawke said from Ebrisa's side in the lower yard. “You're making me nervous.”

“Its just that last time we didn't know she was coming and there will be no excuse if something is amiss now,” the Herald explained as she smoothed out her dress.

“Any idea who she's bringing with?” The Inquisitor sighed. Why did she agree to receive the guests?

“She didn't say. I know it can't be Father. Perhaps Aurelia? Federyc is surely busy but I suppose Emery could have slipped away.” The mage smiled, excited about the prospect of seeing any of her siblings again, especially after witnessing the Rutherford reunion. Would it be like that? Would there be laughter and hugs and retelling of childhood stories? The sound of hooves brought her back and she corrected her posture just before her mother came into view. Ebrisa kept a pleasant smile in place as the riders dismounted, despite being disappointed to see a complete stranger help her mother down.

“Welcome back, Lady Trevelyan.” Hawke nodded. “I hope we were easier to find this time around.”

“Yes, thank you, Lady Inquisitor.” Galatea took a moment to dust herself off. She looked her daughter over quickly, seemingly pleased with her appearance. “Oh child, how good to see you again.” She took Ebrisa's hands and squeezed them.

“You look well, Mother.” The Herald dipped in a small curtsey before her mother stood back.

The stranger came up beside the older woman and waited. “Allow me to introduce Lord Curtis Ogerius Caspar Aldis Tobias Pentaghast, 52^nd in line for the Nevarran throne.” Galatea smiled, quiet pleased with herself.

The man stepped forward and bowed to Ebrisa, taking her gloved hand and kissing it. “A pleasure, Lady Ebrisa. The rumors of your beauty do you little credit.”

Ebrisa couldn't help but blush as she curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Pentaghast?” Hawke looked the well dressed man over and saw little in resemblance past the dark hair. “So you've come to visit Cassandra?”

“True, I have not seen my cousin for many, many years, but no.” Curtis turned back to the mage. “I came for her.”

“For me, my lord?” Ebrisa tilted her head slightly in confusion.

The man chuckled and turned to Galatea. “Lady Trevelyan, you did not mention how adorably expressive she was.”

Galatea tittered softly behind her hand. “Ebrisa, child, I have found you a husband.”

The Herald stood frozen, completely speechless. Luckily, Hawke had no reservations about expressing herself.

“Excuse me? You what? They haven't even met before!” The Inquisitor sliced an angry hand through the air. “You can't just make a decision like that on your own!”

“With all due respect, Lady Inquisitor, this is common practice among nobility and a family matter.” Galatea narrowed her eyes slightly. “It does not concern you.” She turned to her still stunned daughter and smiled. “Ebrisa, why don't you show us to our rooms so we might freshen up?”

“Yes, of course,” Ebrisa smiled weakly through her daze and motioned to the stairs with an elegant, sweeping hand. “Please, follow me.”

“Gladly,” Curtis said as he lifted one of the larger bags.

“Oh, Lord Curtis, leave that for the help to carry,” Galatea gasped.

“Dear Lady, if we do not bring some of your things, what will you freshen up into?” Curtis laughed lightly. “It is no trouble.” The nobles walked off, Curtis and Galatea chatting from behind the silent mage.

Hawke stared after them, dumbfounded. There goes a peaceful visit.

The Herald showed them to the guest rooms, then doubled back to her mother's quarters. She knocked and entered. “Mother, about this engagement...”

“Yes, a surprisingly good man.” Galatea smiled as she removed a dress and laid it out. “Nevarra is rather lenient with mages, so you didn't put him off as much as more local prospects.”

“I didn't know you were looking for anyone,” Ebrisa continued. “You never mentioned before that I should marry.”

“Well that's because people thought you were in the Chantry.”

“What?”

“The point is you finally generated an interest in the public eye,” Galatea sighed. “The union will tie us to the ruling house of Nevarra and strengthen our family.” She turned to the mage. “You have an obligation to the Trevelyan name.”

“But I don't know Lord Pentaghast,” Ebrisa pleaded. “I don't love him! Can't I chose-”

Galatea slapped her daughter across the face. “Ebrisa! Where is your sense of duty to your family? You spoiled your first chance to honor the Trevelyan name by becoming a mage. Do not spoil this one by being so selfish.” She gasped in realization. “We can not let Lord Curtis see you like that. Go put some ice on your cheek and fix your makeup.”

Ebrisa held her face and trembled. “Y-yes, Mother...” She left the room soundlessly and slipped behind a corner to soothe her stinging cheek with magic. Her mother struck her. She had never done that before. All of the times Ebrisa had done something wrong or angered her mother, she had only ever been yelled at. No one in her family had ever raised a hand to her. Was she really being so selfish to not want to marry a stranger? He was handsome and seemed nice, but he didn't know her.

Did Aurelia know her future husband? With all the events the elder sister attended, she surely met him at least once, right? Was this truly so common? Was it just that Ebrisa hadn't been prepared? Her mother said people thought she was in the Chantry. What did that mean? Surely she meant Circle.

The Herald sighed and rested her head against the wall. This visit was nothing like Cullen's -

She straightened suddenly, eyes wide. She had to tell Cullen! What if he already heard? She had to let him know it wasn't her idea. Ebrisa moved briskly through Skyhold until she found him overseeing a sparring match in the training yard. He looked busy, but this was important.

“Keep that shield up, Baret,” Cullen shouted. “Just because the blade is dull doesn't mean it won't hurt you!”

“Ye-yes, Commander!” One of the men in the ring lifted the shield higher just in time to block the incoming strike.

Ebrisa squeezed her way past the spectators until she reached the commander's side. “Cullen?”

“Baret, what did I just say?” He groaned.

“Sorry, Commander!” The man looked over to Cullen apologetically.

Ebrisa tried again. “Cullen, I must speak with you.”

He made a noise to indicate he was listening, but kept watching the spar.

“My mother arranged a marriage for me.” The Herald shook her head. “I'm engaged.”

“Oh?” He tensed suddenly. “Baret, if you ever want to see something beside this mountain again, you better focus!”

Ebrisa frowned. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Hmm? Yes. Engaged. Congratulations.” Cullen said, rather annoyed. “Now, if you please, I'm busy at the moment.”

“Yes... of course...” The mage numbly backed away and slipped out of the small crowd. She entered the tavern behind her, ignoring the looks the surprised patrons gave her and walked slowly up the stairs to the very top.

He didn't care? Yes, they had only kissed once, but she thought he would show at least a little concern. Maybe he had only been caught up in the moment – he did try to leave before she asked him to kiss her...

That was it. He only did it because she asked - because she selfishly forced her feelings on him. She had thought... it didn't matter what she thought. She was still a mage after all, and mages had done so much to him. Maker, of course he didn't care. Cullen had even distanced himself from her after his family left – probably because she had gotten too familiar with them. He didn't want her that close to them. Why didn't she pick up on that at the time? Stupid.

“Where is the hurt?” Cole tilted his head, seeing she was upset. All at once, Ebrisa felt her heart shatter and she rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around the young man and sobbing into his chest. Between her mother and Cullen, she just didn't know if she could handle any more. Cole was unsure what to do at first, but slowly held his friend and rubbed her back. He hated not being able to soothe her hurts. It was unfair to both of them. The mage just stood there in his arms and cried, her heartrending sobs drifting down to the patrons below. One by one, they hung their heads and drank from their mugs in silence out of respect for their Herald.

~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, Ebrisa managed to pull herself together and fix her appearance in time to meet up with the guests again. She took them to the main hall and played a few pieces on the harp, much to her mother's delight. “I'm so glad to see the lessons stuck with you after all these years.” Galatea grinned.

“Yes, that was lovely.” Curtis extended a hand to help Ebrisa up from the seat, which she hesitantly took. “I shall be sure to add a proper harp to the music room.” The mage smiled timidly, but said nothing.

“Oh dear, the journey seems to have taken more out of me than I thought.” Lady Trevelyan placed a hand on her cheek. “I believe I shall go rest in my room until supper.”

“I'll walk you back,” Ebrisa began.

“No, no, I can find my way.” Her mother waved her off. “Why don't you show Lord Curtis around Skyhold? I've already had the tour, after all.”

“That sounds splendid.” Curtis smiled at Ebrisa. “I look forward to seeing more of this place.”

“Of course.” The mage dipped her head slightly. Galatea excused herself and left the two in the hall. Ebrisa should just treat him like any other guest. “Where would you like to start, my lord?”

“Well, where is your favorite place?” The Nevarran asked.

The mage looked down, embarrassed by the unladylike response she would give. “The stables.”

Curtis laughed. “Of course it is! You can't keep a Trevelyan from horses.” He smiled. “Let us begin there then.” He extended an elbow for her to grasp, but Ebrisa pretended she didn't notice and placed her hands in front of her as she lead him out of the hall.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Varric greeted as he walked in. “So this is our mystery guest?”

Ebrisa tensed. Just breathe. Just like any other guest. “Yes, this is Lord Curtis Pentaghast.” She motioned to her side awkwardly. “Lord Pentaghast, this is Master Varric Tethras.”

“Lord Pentaghast?” Both men said in unison.

“Dear Lady Ebrisa, there is no need to be so formal to your betrothed,” Curtis chuckled.

“Of course, Lord Curtis,” Ebrisa replied weakly.

“Betrothed?” Varric looked the two over. “Does Cullen know?”

The Herald seemed to lose all energy for a moment as she looked away. “I told the commander. He said congratulations.”

The dwarf frowned as he read her disappointment and sorrow. There was more to this.

“The first of many, I'm sure.” The Nevarran clasped a hand on Ebrisa's shoulder and she flinched. His hand felt cold. “It was good to meet you, Master Tethras.” He nodded and the two nobles headed down the stairs.

“Shit,” Varric mumbled and made a beeline for Josephine's office. “Ruffles, we've got a -”

“Problem.” Hawke finished for him with a sigh. “We know.”

“Unfortunately, without knowing any of the specifics of the engagement, we have no power to protest it.” Josephine shook her head. “We are not a direct party and hold no sway over the outcome.”

“But I'm the Inquisitor!” Hawke folded her arms. “Don't I get some sort of veto power? She is part of the Inquisition.”

“Only if Ostwick's Teyrn has officially recognized the sovereignty of our organization,” the ambassador sighed. “Which he has not.”

“Argh, I just want to wring that smug woman's neck!” Hawke kicked Josephine's desk in frustration.

“Hey! I'm upset too, but please leave my furniture out of it.”

“How can she just swoop in here and drop a husband on the Herald like that?” Hawke fumed. “Swooping is... bad!”

“Figured it wasn't Sunshine's idea.” Varric scratched his head. “Guys a Pentaghast. Maybe Cassandra knows a way to break it off?”

“I'm afraid our Seeker knows very little about Nevarra.” The Inquisitor grumbled. “Probably even less about this guy.”

“I'll try to look for something that might persuade Lord Pentaghast to break the engagement,” Josephine said with an unsettling lack of confidence.

“Okay, work your magic, Ruffles.” Varric gave her an encouraging smile. “I'm going to go yell at an idiot.

~~~~~~~~~

Cullen sat at his desk, still trying to catch up on his neglected work. He was almost at a decent stopping point, but he couldn't shake something strange a guardsman had said to him after the sparing matches finished.

“I know they were all rumors, but that was pretty cold, Commander.”

What was he talking about?

His door burst open suddenly. “You. Ass.” Varric snapped.

Cullen looked at the dwarf. “What?”

“You said congratulations?”

“What?”

“What is your problem?!”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Cullen set down his quill, obviously not going to be able to do any work around his current company.

“Come out here a second.” Varric waved him outside and the commander rolled his eyes, but complied. “See down there by the shop stalls?” Varric pointed below them and Cullen looked over the edge of the walkway. He saw Ebrisa trying to refuse a piece of jewelry from a dark-haired man he hadn't seen before. A new merchant, perhaps? Reluctantly, the Herald allowed the man to clasp a bracelet around her wrist and kiss her hand.

Cullen bristled slightly, despite knowing it was a common practice. “Who's that with Ebrisa?”

“That would be her fiance, genius.” Varric folded his arms.

“Her what?!”

Ebrisa glanced up at the sound of his voice and their eyes met, but she broke the gaze and looked down.

“Get back inside if you're going to be so loud.” The dwarf shoved Cullen into his office.

“I don't understand.” Cullen shook his head. “When did that happen?”

“When did Mommy set it up? No clue. When did Sunshine find out? Today.” Varric poked Cullen in the chest. “She says you told her congratulations. I mean, really Cullen? Really?”

“No, I wouldn't have said -” The commander paused. He vaguely recalled someone speaking to him during Baret's spar. What had they said? He groaned suddenly and held the bridge of his nose. “Maker's Breath...”

“And now he remembers.” Varric plopped down in a seat. “Lucky for you, Sunshine doesn't seem keen on the idea of marrying a stranger. Unlucky for you, she thinks you don't care one way or another. So, Commander, how are you going to fix this?”

~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa went to bed immediately after supper that night, trying to spend as little time around her mother, Curtis, and Cullen as possible. When she slipped into the Fade, she cried all over again as the spirit stroked her hair. It was outraged about what Galatea had done, but kept the anger away so she could focus on soothing Ebrisa's pain.

“It was wrong of her to force a match upon you, but this Lord Curtis does not seem like a bad man,” the spirit said softly. “Perhaps you could grow to love him.”

Ebrisa buried her face further in the pillow to keep from saying anything about Cullen. Despite what had happened that day and the doubts flooding her, she still loved him. She couldn't just clear out her heart and start accepting a new person right away. She didn't know if she ever could. “I do not hate Lord Pentaghast,” Ebrisa sighed. “But I can't love him either.”

“Give him a chance, sweetling,” the spirit cooed. “He deserves as much, yes?”

The mage played with the pillow's fringe. “I will try...”

Chapter Text

Cullen had been too uncertain of his feelings, too hesitant to act on them, and now he was left to suffer the consequences. For the rest of that first day, the commander tried to come to grips with what Ebrisa's engagement meant. She would leave, be with someone else... he might not ever see her again after the Inquisition disbanded. The thought of Ebrisa being taken completely out of his life without her even knowing that he cared for her made him feel hollow. Hollow, and stupid for holding himself back for so long.

At the very least, Varric seemed to be correct about the Herald being reluctant of the forced match. She smiled politely and acted the proper lady around her mother and fiance, but the light behind her eyes had dimmed. Her guests failed to notice, but the mage had retreated within herself, using etiquette as a shield to the best of her ability. It was like she was simply going through the motions, being unexcited by the betrothal but unable to express her displeasure.

Ebrisa was usually surrounded by Curtis or Galatea and Cullen was having trouble getting her alone so they might talk. The commander held no illusions that simply telling Ebrisa he cared for her would dissolve the engagement and allow the two of them to be together, but maybe if she knew his feelings it would give her the will to fight back. She didn't arrange the match, but had she truly no say at all? Even if she was powerless to stop the events her mother set in motion, even if she would have to marry another man, Cullen couldn't let her go on not knowing his feelings... even if she could no longer return them.

~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa had successfully avoided Cullen for three days, but could not retire early as she did the nights before. Curtis had invited her on a night stroll to look at the stars and she hesitantly accepted. She did say she would give him a chance. The Nevarran had tried to make her laugh on numerous occasions during their time together and she would smile, but could never get it to reach her eyes. But she was trying.

He led her through the quiet grounds by laying a hand on her back, as she still kept her hands in front and would not touch him if she truly did not have to. All she felt was the weight of his palm.

“Is it not amazing how clear the sky is?” Curtis sighed as he looked up. “The stars seem so close you could almost pluck them.”

“Yes, very true.” Ebrisa reached up, drawing out a constellation with her finger. “Even the ancient elven name of this place speaks to that. Tarasyl-an Te'las. The place where the sky is kept.”

The man stared at her in wonder.

She withdrew her hand from the air and looked down. “I have many knowledgeable companions.”

Curtis took her hand in his cold grasp gently. “My dear Lady Ebrisa, you are an absolute treasure. Do you know that?”

“I'm afraid I must disagree, my lord.”

“Beautiful, knowledgeable, spiritual, humble...” Curtis raised her chin with his other hand. “Did I forget anything?”

“I... I'm a mage?” Ebrisa began to panic as he drew closer.

He chuckled. “That you are, my lady, that you are.” Curtis kissed her softly on the lips, freezing her in place. It felt... wrong. There was no heat in his touch or spark in his lips. He was just... there. It was wrong. He was wrong. This was wrong!

Curtis pulled away, smiling, but his expression quickly shifted. “Lady Ebrisa?”

She was trembling, slow tears sliding down her cheeks. “I...” Her voice was tight. “I must go. Forgive me.” Ebrisa forced her body to move and she ran back to her room without any more of an explanation. She wiped at her lips furiously, feeling vile and empty. The mage washed her face several times, but couldn't shake the feeling. She was trying – really trying – to get along with the man her mother chose, but a big part of her just couldn't do it. He was wrong.

There was a knock on her door and she stilled. Cullen. He must have seen her come back. This was not what she needed right now if she didn't want to fall in a crying heap on the floor. She told herself to be strong long enough to dismiss him. She would just tell him she was tired and send him away. Ebrisa took a breath and opened the door. “Yes?”

Cullen sighed in relief. “I've been trying to speak with you for days. May I come in?”

The mage tensed and looked down. “These are my personal quarters. As I am engaged, it would be inappropriate to allow a man to enter.” That should work.

The commander set his jaw. “Fine.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her behind him. “Have it your way. I hold meetings in my office all the time.” Ebrisa was too surprised by his actions to do anything but stumble along after him. He pulled her inside and slammed the door.

“Cullen, what is the meaning of this?” Ebrisa's voice cracked as she felt her resolve slipping. Don't cry. Keep it together. Don't let him see the hurt.

He pushed her against the door suddenly, holding her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply, urgently, trying to convey what he felt without words. Ebrisa's eyes widened in surpirse before fluttering closed as she was drawn into the intensity of the kiss. The burning, the tingling, the feel of him. This was right.

Cullen pulled away slowly and rested his forehead against hers, letting out a shuddering breath. “I care for you, I want to be with you. Don't tell me I've missed my chance, Ebrisa.”

“But you said...” the mage whispered, still feeling him on her lips.

He moved back a little and rubbed his neck. “I... may not have actually heard you. I was focused on my men's work.” He looked at her, embarrassed. “Guess my focus isn't so endearing now.”

“Do you know how hurt I was? How much I doubted myself?” Ebrisa stared down at her hands, still leaning against the door. “I thought that you couldn't care for me because I'm a mage... That you only kissed me because I forced you.”

“Whatever I fear of magic, I see none of that in you. That has nothing to do with it. I'm so sorry, Ebrisa. Hurting you has never been my intention.” Cullen moved close to her again and brushed the damp strands of hair behind her ear. “Have I already disproven your theory?” He drew in closer. “Or do you need more proof?”

Ebrisa shivered. “Yes... I mean, no!” She quickly turned her head away and placed her hands on Cullen's chest. She let out a slow breath as she tried to rein in her racing heart. “I... I want to be with you Cullen, but... regardless of the circumstances, I am still betrothed. Though I didn't ask for it, this would be unkind to Lord Pentaghast. Until I can end the engagement, we can't do this.”

Cullen sighed and pulled her into his embrace. “Very well. Just allow me this. Just a few more minuets...”

Ebrisa wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “Of course.” They stood in silence for a while, holding one another and savoring the feeling, unsure how long it would tied them over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Though he would never admit it to Hawke, having his men fight in a ring did improve their skills more efficiently than just running drills. Perhaps it was the knowledge that peers were watching them that made the fighters focus. Regardless of the reason, Cullen ensured there were always at least a few sparring matches in the late morning. He was also sure to keep an ear open now in case someone tried talking to him, so when Curtis came up beside him and commented on the fighters, Cullen was able to hold a conversation.

“You work them hard. It shows,” the Nevarran said.

“They know what we're fighting for, ser.” Cullen glanced at the man beside him. “They don't complain.”

“That's good.” Curtis waited for the match to finish before saying more. “You are Commander Cullen, correct? Lady Ebrisa did not introduce us, but I am Curtis Pentaghast.” He held out his hand and Cullen begrudgingly shook it, perhaps squeezing a bit too hard. The noble winced and laughed lightly. “That's quite a grip.”

“Yes, well, it is my sword arm.” Cullen hid a smirk as he turned away and directed the next pair to make ready.

“I must thank you, Commander.”

Cullen turned back to him. “For what?”

“I am sad to say that those vile Orlesian rumors did reach my ears shortly after Lady Trevelyan sent her first inquiry and I nearly ignored the correspondence all together. But then the tale of you thrashing that little weasel and clearing Lady Ebrisa's name came flooding in and I began the engagement negotiations.” Curtis smirked slightly. “And I must say, it was most honorable of you to take up arms for your Inquisition in such a way.”

Cullen tensed. “I did it for none but Ebrisa.”

The noble regarded him curiously. “Yes, of course. I must admit, you don't look like much of a rapier man.” He turned to watch the spar. “I favor sword and shield myself.”

“You don't say.” Cullen tried to focus on his men.

“I heard it was a spectacular duel,” Curtis continued. “Would have liked to have seen you in action.”

“Would you care to spar then, ser?” Cullen regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth.

Curtis grinned. “A chance to evaluate those protecting my betrothed? A splendid idea.”

Well, he did agree. “Lieutenant, take Lord Pentaghast to the armory and get him suited up.” Cullen smirked. “We're going to have a match.”

A few of the men behind him looked at each other and slipped away, rushing off to bring as many people as possible. It was always an event when the commander fought and going against a relative of the Seeker would have to be amazing.

Cullen removed his scabbard, resting his templar blade against the outside of the ring. This was a bad idea. He knew it was foolish, but he couldn't stop himself. Part of him felt he was dueling for Ebrisa, but that was not the situation at all. Still, Cullen couldn't shake the thought from his mind. He had to beat Curtis.

By the time the noble returned in borrowed armor, a sizable crowd had gathered. He entered the ring and took the offered sword and shield, frowning at the blade. “There's no edge on this.”

“This is a spar, ser.” Cullen paused. “Unless you would prefer a sharpened weapon?” The crowd murmured excitedly.

Curtis smiled. “I think that would be best. It appears the people want a good show.” They set the blades aside and borrowed long swords from the soldiers.

“Get him good, Commander,” one man whispered as he handed his weapon over. Cullen nodded and returned to the center of the ring, turning the unfamiliar blade in his hand. The noble examined his own sword and seemed satisfied, grinning as he squared off with his opponent. He nodded, signaling he was ready.

Cullen came at him quickly with a roar, slashing down heavily on the noble's raised shield. Curtis's grin dropped instantly as he felt the weight of the strike reverberate through the metal. “You're quite fierce. No messing around then.” He pushed Cullen off and swung out with his own sword. They blocked and parried, attacking at every opening as they moved around the ring – the Nevarran on the defensive more often than not. Curtis couldn't figure out where all of the commander's fury was coming from until he listened to the cheering around them.

“Show him what Inquisition men are made of!”

“Make him earn the Herald's hand!”

Ah, so he was being tested. They did not find him worthy of their Lady Herald. Understandable, but soon to be rectified.

“Break this one's nose too!” A laughing woman shouted.

This one's?

Ebrisa and her mother entered the main hall from the garden and looked around curiously. “Isn't this place usually filled with people?” Galatea frowned. “Where is everyone?”

“They went to watch,” Cole said from a nearby table, swinging his leg over the side.

Galatea jumped at his sudden appearance, but Ebrisa was unaffected. “Watch what, Ser Cole?”

“Fighting for you. He doesn't want you to see.”

The mage's eyes widened and she turned to leave, but her mother caught her hand. “A fight is no place for a lady, child.”

“But I have to stop them before someone gets hurt.”

“You will stay here.” Galatea frowned.

“I must go.” Ebrisa tore her hand away. “Ser Cole, don't let her follow!” She ran out of the hall, Cole blocking her mother and erasing her memory of the past few minuets.

The Herald paused at the size of the crowd around the ring and let out a groan. Of course it was masked as a spar. She squeezed through the spectators with great difficulty. “Lord Curtis! Cullen!”

The commander looked up at the sound of Ebrisa's voice, breaking focus from the fight. Curtis took full advantage and knocked the commander's shield to the ground. Cullen glared and adjusted his stance, swinging low and slicing at a weak point in the armor's joints. The noble grimaced at the pain in his leg, but did not concede.

“Stop it!” Ebrisa shouted, having managed to reach the fencing. Cullen glanced at her, surprised to see her there, and Curtis reared back to take advantage once again.

In an instant, the mage was between them, looking at the noble sternly as wisps of magic dissipated from her Fade-step. Curtis's eyes widened, but he couldn't stop the momentum of his swing.

Cullen quickly grabbed Ebrisa around the waist with his free arm and turned on the balls of his feet, swinging her out of the way and exposing his back to the full weight of the strike. The yard was silent save for the echoing clang of metal on metal. Curtis dropped the sword to the ground and moved back in shock.

“Maker's Breath, are you insane? You can't just run into the ring like that!” Cullen shouted angrily as he released the Herald.

Ebrisa shook the dizziness from her head. “I tried to get you to stop, but you didn't listen.”

“So your thought was to charge in between two people fighting in close quarters?” He said incredulously as he looked her over for injuries.

“Well I couldn't cast anything,” Ebrisa tried to explain. “I could have hit one of you.”

“So you make one of us hit you instead?” Cullen shook his head and let out an angry sigh. “Even if these were dull swords, they still could have seriously harmed you.”

“What do you mean if?” Ebrisa stared at the trickle of blood creeping down his neck. “Cullen, you're bleeding.”

The commander reached up the trail to the back of his scalp, finding a shallow cut. “It appears that last swing made some contact...”

“Apologies, Lady Ebrisa,” Curtis cut in. “It was my idea to use true blades.”

The Herald bristled and moved over to the noble. “Lord Curtis, perhaps you are not aware that this man is the commander of the Inquisition's forces and a trusted advisor to Lady Hawke. Live steel for a supposedly friendly spar is not acceptable.” She chastised him like a child, setting her hands on her hips and frowning in disapproval. “One of you could have been killed.”

Curtis lowered his head and fiddled with the edge of the shield. “Of course, you're right, Lady Ebrisa.”

“We're wearing armor,” Cullen grumbled.

She whipped around and poked him in the chest. “Without helmets! Was this your idea, Cullen?” The commander rubbed his neck and looked away. “I thought so,” Ebrisa sighed quietly. “This doesn't change anything, you know.” She shook her head and gave both men a final, disapproving look before leaving the yard, the crowd moving to let her through before departing themselves.

“She isn't a fan of unnecessary risks, is she?” Curtis asked as he set the shield against the fencing.

“No, she isn't,” Cullen sighed. “And we got off easy.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, so hear me out,” Hawke leaned in, sliding her empty mug to the side. “Pentaghasts like killing dragons, right?” She turned sharply and drunkenly to the Seeker. “Cassandra, confirm.”

“There are many dragon hunters in my family, yes,” Cassandra answered uneasily.

“Right, so,” Hawke continued to the group. “We invite Curtis to help us slay the Fereldan Frostback – been meaning to do that anyways – and... maybe... just let him go first?”

“I like it!” Iron Bull thumped the table enthusiastically.

Cassandra groaned and held her head. “Inquisitor, you can't be serious about feeding a member of my family to a dragon.”

The qunari took a swig of his ale. “Is that what she said? Honestly, I stopped listening after slay the Fereldan Frostback. “

“What? Its an honorable way to go!” Hawke pouted before resting her face on the table. “You think of something then.”

“Yeah, he's your cousin,” Varric grumbled.

“Would you stop glaring at me?” The Seeker huffed. “I did not bring him here.” She sighed and leaned back. “All I know of Curtis is he dislikes cooked carrots.”

“How is that helpful?” Hawke spoke through the wood.

“I didn't say it was helpful, I said it was all I knew. We met once. As children.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “He's as much a stranger to me as he is to any of you.”

“Ruffles has been looking for some kind of loophole for days, but it seems only the arranged parties can do anything – which would be Curtis and Mumsies.”

“I know the hag won't budge, but maybe we can convince Curtis to break it off?” Hawke raised her head hopefully.

“That is unlikely,” Cassandra panned. “Have you seen them together? He absolutely adores the Herald.”

“Of course he does,” Varric sighed.

~~~~~~~~~

“Master Kieran, you are remarkably good at this.” Ebrisa frowned at the board before hesitantly moving a piece. “Or it is entirely possible I am very bad.” Chess was one of the few games she played in the Circle and though Senior Enchanter Vemara joined her once in a while before starting lessons, Ebrisa largely played by herself. Working both sides of the board allowed her to see how each move could be countered, but wasn't exactly fun.

The boy laughed lightly and moved a piece. “Check.”

She winced and slid her king over a space, Kieran moving his piece to follow. “Master Kieran, please do not chase me around the board!” She sighed and conceded defeat.

“You're mother would be proud, Kieran.” Cullen said from behind the mage with a grin, causing her to jump.

“Not with a hollow victory.” The boy smiled and reset the board. “The Herald let me win, but it was fun. You should play her.”

Ebrisa blushed, embarrassed at being caught and Cullen couldn't help but chuckle. “Will she let me win too?”

“Not a chance, Cullen.” The mage turned her head away in defiance, making the young boy laugh. “That is, if you did want to play a game?”

“I'm afraid you'll find I am quite the challenge.” The commander took Kieran's seat and thought for a moment before making his first move.

“A daring start.” Ebrisa nearly smirked. “I won't go easy on you.”

“I should hope not.” He smirked right back.

After a few turns, they noticed Kieran had left them alone on the gazebo and Ebrisa couldn't help but feel a little bad for abandoning her playmate. That was until she noticed Cullen had fallen into her trap and an almost wicked grin spread across her face.

“Oh no, I know that look,” Cullen groaned. “Mia gets the same one. She's such a smug chess player. What did I do?”

“Did you just call me smug?” The Herald laughed, moving a piece.

Cullen smiled at the board. “Perhaps, but you won't be soon.”

She watched him take his turn. “Did you play with Mia while they were here? Has she stayed as smug a player?”

“We had one game, but we didn't finish...” Cullen mumbled. “I suppose she took that as a forfeit and added it to her victory tally.”

Ebrisa moved a piece and looked at him curiously. “You left in the middle of a game? Why?”

“We were having a discussion. It became a little heated...” Cullen tilted a knight absentmindedly. “It... it may have been about you.”

“Oh.” The mage looked down at her captured pieces. “Does she dislike me?”

“What? No!” Cullen looked up quickly. “It was about... the opposite of that. And me, not her.”

“Oh...” Ebrisa said again, quieter this time, and blushed slightly. “So... she knows?”

“She does.” He smiled softly at her and took his turn.

“Oh.”

“Your vocabulary has become shockingly limited,” Cullen chuckled, watching the mage fidget in her chair.

“Well, I... I have a lot that I want to say, but at the moment it would be... inappropriate.” Ebrisa whispered.

After a moment, Cullen sighed. “Oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the cold rarely bothering her, Ebrisa had to admit it was a chilly evening. She held her shawl tighter as a gust of wind blew across the battlements.

“Did you know the Lady Inquisitor invited me to go dragon hunting today?” Curtis said with a smile at her side.

“Did she now?” Ebrisa titled her head. “We've encountered several, but she always seemed a little hesitant in engaging them.”

The noble chuckled. “Perhaps she was hoping for some Pentaghast tips on the matter. She looked rather disappointed when I declined.”

“And what are those Pentaghast tips on dragon slaying, my lord?” Ebrisa asked with a polite smile.

“You'd have to ask another Pentaghast, I'm afraid.” He laughed and watched the halfhearted smile play across the mage's face. Curtis rested his hand on the stone and sobered up. “I watched you playing with that young boy in the garden today.”

“Yes, Master Kieran.” Ebrisa nodded. “He's the son of Lady Morrigan and the only child here. You caught us at one of our more distinguished games.”

Curtis looked off into the distance where the last bit of sunlight was slipping away. “I must admit, seeing you with him spurred on my imagination and I couldn't help but envision you playing with our children.”

Ebrisa held the blue shawl tighter and looked down. “Did it?”

“Yes, and the image warmed my heart.” The noble shook his head. “But I soon realized it would never come to be.”

She turned to him, confused. “My lord?”

“I also watched you playing with the commander.” Curtis tensed slightly. “You were so expressive with him – your interaction so natural.”

“Yes, he's... a dear friend. He gave me a lot of courage and support when I needed it most.” Ebrisa looked down again, unable to keep her gaze on the man before her. “I couldn't have accepted my place here without Cullen.”

Curtis let out a single, strained laugh. “The way you smile at him, you don't do that with anyone else. I- I've been trying to get you to sparkle the way you do around him, but I can't, can I?”

Ebrisa's mouth went dry. She didn't know what to say.

“You love him, don't you?” The noble smiled at her sadly. “In a way that you... could never love me?”

She looked up at him slowly, ashamed. “Yes. I am deeply sorry, Lord Curtis. I never meant to hurt you.”

Curtis took her hand and kissed it softly. “My dear, precious, Lady Ebrisa, you have no need to apologize. I only wish we'd met sooner so I might have had a chance to earn your affection.” He released her hand and let out a long breath. “Good night, Herald of Andraste.” He bowed and walked away.

Chapter Text

Ebrisa sat at her vanity, sliding the first pin into her hair to secure the bun. They were supposed to go riding today and she was reluctant to sit side saddle, but knew her mother would expect it.

Her door flung open suddenly, crashing against the wall causing her to turn and jump to her feet in surprise at the noise.

“What have you done?” Galatea fumed in a deceptively even voice.

“Mother?” Ebrisa was confused. It wasn't nearly time for their ride.

“Lord Curtis just left. He said the engagement was off.”

“He did?” The mage couldn't keep the smile from her face.

Galatea closed the door and locked it behind her. “I knew it. You did something to drive him away. After all the lessons and hard work, you couldn't act like a true lady long enough to convince a gentleman to want you.”

“No, Mother, that's not what happened,” Ebrisa pleaded. “I was on my best behavior. I was kind to him. But I couldn't love him.”

“You don't start a marriage with love, you grow into it!” Galatea shouted, beyond angry. “You selfish little monster! You couldn't do this one thing for your family?”

The Herald struggled with the hurt. “I couldn't let someone into my heart when another was already there. Mother, I already love someone!”

Galatea stared at her, stunned. For a moment, Ebrisa thought the fight was over, that her mother would smile and hold her and say she understood.

“Whore.”

“Mother?” The mage felt another stab in her chest.

The older woman looked to her side and picked up one of Ebrisa's staffs leaning against the wall. “Its the magic in you, isn't it? The power of the corrupt has made you willful.” She looked at her daughter with a deep seeded loathing. “You were meant only to serve man. To serve your family!” Galatea swung the wooden staff against the wall, cracking it in half and sending angry wisps of energy into the air. She swung again, this time at the mage, and nearly hit her mark.

Ebrisa ducked in a panic and scrambled for the other door. She just needed some more space between herself and her upset mother so they could talk. They could still talk, right? She managed to open the door and dodge a swing at her head before darting outside.

“We gave you everything, but you're trying to ruin us!” Galatea shouted as she walked out into the wind. “Just one little thing for your family... you couldn't even handle that.” The woman looked down, disappointed.

“Mother, I'm sorry, but I can't force myself to love a stranger,” Ebrisa said with more than a little shame in her voice. “I've learned my feelings are what they are and I can't change them. I've tried-” The mage stopped short as the once powerful piece of wood came flipping thought the air at her. She raised her arms and blocked it. When she looked back at her mother, Galatea was nearly upon her – anger spurring the woman into a charge.

Lady Trevelyan shoved her daughter against the side wall, the mage catching herself before colliding with the sharp corners. Ebrisa held herself up with shaking arms and stared over the edge at the mountain side below. Galatea gave her no time to catch her breath and pushed Ebrisa backwards against the embrasure's opening. “Wicked little whore. You've brought me nothing but grief,” the older woman hissed as her daughter struggled against her, hands grasping for purchase on the stone work. Galatea shoved harder, forcing the Herald's right hand to lose contact with the wall altogether.

Ebrisa screamed louder and more terrified than she ever had before as she grabbed at air. Her hands flared up with angry licks of flame, causing Galatea to jump away in surprise and allowing Ebrisa to pull herself back to the walkway. She sat on the ground, trembling. “Mo-mother? I... I've never asked for anything. Can't I just... have this one thing?”

“You think that because you've convinced some people that the Maker chose you, that you can just do whatever you want?” Galatea looked down at the mage, disgusted. “I know what you did in the Circle. Andraste's Herald would be no murderous slut.”

She knew? The fight left Ebrisa's body and she slumped her shoulders. Galatea picked her up by her hair until the mage was on her feet. “If you couldn't behave yourself surrounded by templars, why would I think you could be a lady out in the free air?” The older woman glared at her child. “So selfish, so willful, so wicked!” She released the golden hair and slapped Ebrisa across the face with enough force to send the mage back to the ground, rolling down the steps and stopping short of the broken edge.

Ebrisa placed a hand on her stinging cheek as she slowly climbed to her knees. This wasn't right. This couldn't actually be her mother. Her mother wanted what was best for her – cared about her! This... this person hated her. Ebrisa's mother could never hate her. She looked the seething figure over with confusion as she rose to her feet. “The mother with green eyes would never do this...”

Galatea tensed. “You've seen her?”

Ebrisa opened her mouth to answer, but Lady Trevelyan didn't give her the chance, seizing her throat with both hands. “That's it, isn't it? Renata poisoned you against me! How did she find you? How?!”

Ebrisa pulled desperately at her mother's fingers, trying to free herself. She could feel the heat rising in her hands as she became lightheaded and tried to will it gone. She would not attack her mother, she couldn't, she -

Fire flashed suddenly from her palms and Galatea screamed, pushing her daughter away to avoid being burned. The Herald's eyes widened in surprise as she fell backwards into the broken gap in the wall. She hit the rocks with a pain filled cry and tumbled towards the windy outer edge. Ebrisa panicked as she struggled to find balance on the loose rocks and her lower half slipped over the side. The wind pulled at her body, dragging her down as each piece of rubble she grabbed at tore free under her weight. She couldn't think, couldn't concentrate. There was no spell she could cast to save herself. All she could do was scream, so she did. For him. “Cullen!”

“Ebrisa, hold on!”

She looked up in surprise to see Cullen sliding down to her, knocking stones loose as he descended. She hadn't actually expected him to show up. “No, stay back!”

He crouched low and took hold of a relatively stable stone before reaching out for Ebrisa, his fingers just a few inches too far. “Shit.” Cullen released his anchor and moved closer, grabbing a firm hold on the mage's wrist. “On three, I want you to pull on me with both hands.”

“But you could-” she began to protest, her worry for him overshadowing the terror for herself.

“Maker's Breath, Ebrisa!” Cullen snapped. “You keep saying you trust me, so its time to prove it!” His expression softened slightly and he tried to look reassuring. “Neither of us is going to fall, alright?”

Ebrisa let out a shaky breath and nodded, moving her other arm closer.

“One, two, three!” Cullen grunted and threw himself backwards as Ebrisa pulled herself towards him. They landed noisily in the center of the gap, the Herald held tightly against Cullen as he lay on his back. Ebrisa trembled in his arms, trying to calm herself. She was safe now. Cullen had her. She-

“This is him?” Galatea laughed from above them, cradling her reddened hands to her chest. “The one from Honnleath?”

Ebrisa refused to look up and only tightened her grip on Cullen's hand. “Mother... please...”

“Well you certainly look comfortable on top of him. Spend a lot of time there, do you, whore?” The older woman spat.

Cullen could feel the rage building inside him as he glared up at Galatea, causing the woman to take a startled step back. How dare she say such hateful things to her own child. Is this the sort of home Ebrisa was raised in? From what the commander had seen as he rushed over to help, the mage didn't fight back or really argue. She took all the insults and abuse, only begging for her mother to understand. Despite everything, Ebrisa still wanted Galatea's approval. Something she would never get.

“Lady Trevelyan, I believe you've overstayed your welcome.” Hawke marched right up to the noble. “Get out of my fortress. We'll send your things shortly.”

“Lady Inquisitor, that is most unnecessary,” Galatea huffed.

Hawke motioned two soldiers forward. “These men will ensure you make it safely home and tell your husband everything.”

The noble paled slightly. “That is a bit extreme, surely.”

The Inquisitor leveled a dangerous look at the squirming woman before her. “You just tried to murder the Herald of Andraste in broad daylight. It's only out of respect for her that I don't toss you off the mountain myself.” Hawke nodded to the men and they ushered Galatea to the stables, her horse already saddled and ready for the expected ride later in the day. To her credit, Lady Trevelyan didn't fight them and rode off with her escorts with her head held high, trying to reclaim some of her lost dignity.

Cullen sat up carefully, Ebrisa still on top of him, and tried to figure out how to get to stable ground. He knew he could jump down to the yard easily enough on his own, but how would he get her out of there?

Hawke looked over the edge at them and smirked. “Comfy?”

The commander held back an annoyed groan. “No, Inquisitor. I'm afraid I didn't really have time to think this procedure through.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered.” Hawke grinned and turned to the yard below. “Hey Bull, you ready?”

The qunari raised a hand in the air as he stood in position at the base of the wall. “Ready, Boss!”

“Alright then Cullen, go ahead and drop the Herald off the side.”

“You must be joking,” Cullen deadpanned.

“What?” Hawke shrugged. “Bull will catch her. He's got good reflexes!” The commander continued to stare at her, unamused, and she sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine, they brought over a ladder from some scaffolding. Bull's just holding it in place.” She folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Spoiled sport.”

Cullen rose to his feet and helped Ebrisa navigate the loose stones to the inside edge. After double checking that the ladder was indeed properly supported, he eased her to the first rung. She climbed down, wordlessly, but still held tightly to Cullen's hand. “Its alright, they've got you.” He said soothingly as he squeezed her hand. “I'll be right behind you, but you must let go.”

Ebrisa kept her eyes down, but nodded and slipped her fingers from his grasp. She moved slowly down the rungs, vaguely registering the qunari's coaxing. When the mage did reach the ground, Blackwall draped a thin blanket around her. “You're alright, my lady. She won't be coming back.”

Ebrisa looked up at him with vacant eyes, causing the warden to take a step back. The people in the yard stared at her, surprised by her uncharacteristically dull expression and tired features. She seemed so drained and weary, so crushed and, well, pathetic. This was their Herald? This was the pillar of faith and hope they had come to rely upon?

No.

This was just a woman.

Cullen stepped off the ladder and frowned at the gawking crowd. “Someone find Gannon! I want a time table figured out by the end of the day to fix that blasted wall!” He shouted, shaking the workers out of their stupor. He placed a protective arm around Ebrisa's shoulders and lead her up the stairs, pausing for a moment at the top before taking her into his office. Cullen set her in an armchair and checked her over for injuries. There was no flowing blood, but plenty of red welts that would surely darken and bruise, especially the hand prints on her neck.

“Maker's Breath, Ebrisa. Why didn't you fight back?” Cullen sighed and stroked her hair gently.

The mage pulled her legs up and held them close, still trembling slightly. “She's my mother.” Her voice sounded strained. “I can't harm my mother.”

“She was trying to kill you!” The commander nearly growled, the thought filling him with anger. “I heard you scream - you were terrified. It was like a knife in my heart and I -” He let out a shuddering breath. “Just never make that sound again.”

“It was an accident.” Ebrisa whispered, trying to convince herself. “Mo... Mother wouldn't really do that.”

He sighed heavily and tucked the blanket around the mage. “I'm afraid she's capable of more than you know. There's something you need to read, when you feel up to it.”

“She was just upset,” Ebrisa said slowly, her head feeling heavy. “Because Lord Pentaghast broke off the engagement.”

“He did?” Finally, some good news.

Ebrisa nodded weakly as she rested her head against the chair back. “He saw us together... and he knew.” She tried to blink away the weariness, but exhaustion had set in. “How much I love you...” She closed her tired eyes and mumbled out a few more incoherent words before falling asleep.

Cullen's mouth went dry as he stared at her slumbering soundly. She had said it. Out loud. It wasn't a spirit's passing comment, demon's accusation, or comrade's speculation. Ebrisa had said it herself.

She loved him.

The pounding in his chest almost made him light headed as he rose to his feet and began to pace the room. He cared for her deeply – more deeply than he thought was even possible – and had begun to let himself hope for a life with Ebrisa. Lady Trevelyan had cast more than a little doubt on that possibility. After all, Ebrisa was a noble and Cullen had no title outside the Inquisition. After they completed their mission and Hawke disbanded the group, what would he do? Would he still deserve Ebrisa? If recent events told him anything, it was that a noble's life was not always their own. Ebrisa may love him and may push for her right to do so, but that didn't mean they could stay together forever.

Cullen took a deep, calming breath and sat down at his desk. There was no sense in worrying about what the future might bring them if it was ultimately out of their hands. He continued his work, looking over at the sleeping mage frequently and grinning to himself.

She said it.

~~~~~~~~~

The Herald's Rest was very active for being so early in the evening. Workers and soldiers alike gossiped about the display at the wall and how strange it was to see the Herald like that. As far as they knew, Ebrisa was born with a kind smile on her face that never faltered.

“Maker, would they just shut up already?” Hawke swished the ale around in her mug and watched the foam slip over the side. “Its like none of them remember how withdrawn she was in Haven.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was taken aback myself.” Blackwall sighed, feeling disappointed in himself.

Sera slammed down her empty mug and groaned. “That's it. I've had enough.” She climbed up on the table and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Oy! Listen up, you lot!” The elf shouted loudly, bringing the tavern to a stand still. “The Herald didn't fall out of the sky, you know. Well, okay, she did. A few times. But she was born a squealing little baby like everyone else. Herald has a family and family problems – like everyone else. You'd be off your game too after a spat like that one.” Sera set her hands on her hips and looked around the room. “You all need to remember something important real quick, yeah? Herald may be glowy, but she's people too! Got it?” The patrons slowly went back to their drinks and Sera nodded. She plopped back down in her seat and smirked with satisfaction.

“Well, that worked.” Hawke slid her mug to the elf. “Why'd you do that?”

Sera took a drink before answering. “One - they were getting annoying. Two – Herald can be too Heraldy sometimes. Three...” She paused and frowned. “Didn't want her to hear them.”

The warden smiled softly at the rouge. “That's mighty kind of you, Sera.”

“Yeah, well, she is people,” she mumbled, getting a little flustered.

“No offense, Sera,” Hawke began slowly. “But I got the impression you didn't like the Herald.”

“What? Cause she's a noble who recites the Chant in her sleep and doesn't like it when I play? Or the magic? Could do without the magic.”

“There's that, yes.” Hawke nodded. “You also don't talk to her very often.”

Sera took another swig of her new drink. “She's too proper for most of my stories. I saw her face go bright red one time when me and Bull were talking. Wasn't even anything really dirty! Just evaluating lady jugs as we walked through a town.” Sera snickered at the memory. “I wanted to see if we could get her to pass out, but Bull said no.”

“So you don't talk with her... but you don't dislike her?” Blackwall tried to piece her explanation together.

“Course I like her. She's not snobby, high and mighty like a Lady usually is. She helps the people with people things, not just Herald things. Plus, she's loads of silly.” Sera grinned. “Know what she calls me? Sera Sera. What is that?”

“I think its 'Serrah Sera'.” Hawke smirked. “Its a Free Marches thing.”

“Well, believe what you like, Quizy, but I'm Sera Sera.”

Chapter Text

The screaming had begun again, echoing out of the Harrowing Chamber and flooding Cullen's magical prison. How many would Uldred turn into abominations this time? How many mages were even left? He grit his teeth and tried to shut out the horrific sounds, refusing to break. The others were dead. Beval, Farris, Annlise... only he was left. He had to stay strong. For them.

“You look so tired. Why not relax?” A desire demon called in a silky voice from the other side of the cage. “It will be so much easier. No more pain. Just. Bliss.”

“Silence, demon!” Cullen grabbed his head, feeling the creature clawing into his mind, searching. “Leave me!”

~~~~~~

Ebrisa opened her groggy eyes and looked around. She was laying on a bed in an unfamiliar, sparsely furnished room. There was a hole in the ceiling...

The frantic mumbling that had woke her up sounded again and the mage moved to the edge of the bed towards it. Cullen lay on the floor without his armor, tossing and turning as his mumblings became louder. “No, leave me!” He jolted up suddenly, panting and eyes darting around before sighing and laying back down.

“Cullen?” Ebrisa looked down at him, concerned.

“Did I wake you?” The commander sat up slowly, groaning at the stiffness in his joints.

“Your nightmare. Was it me?” The mage looked away, feeling guilty. “The fake me, I mean.”

“No, this was...” He sighed and closed his eyes. “It was like I was back in Kinloch Hold being tortured... the nightmares are so much more vivid without lyrium to numb the memories...” Cullen looked up at her and tried to smile reassuringly. “I have it often. I don't mean to worry you.”

“I'm afraid I can't help being at least a little worried.” Ebrisa reached out and held his cheek, gasping at how cold he felt. “Cullen, you're going to get sick! Why are you on the floor?”

“Ah, yes, I suppose this is rather disorienting for you.” He stood up and stretched his sore muscles. “You fell asleep in my office and I couldn't leave you curled up on a chair all night, so I brought you up here.” Cullen bent down and retrieved the thin blanket he had kicked off in his sleep. “I told you I had a bed.”

“And I told you you'd freeze!” Ebrisa pushed back the covers fully and stood up. “Why not take me to my own room?”

Cullen rubbed his neck and looked away. “I may have... broken your door earlier. Time was of the essence and the keys were refusing to cooperate. It'll be repaired tomorrow, but you couldn't sleep in there tonight.”

“So you carried me up a ladder and gave me your bed?” The mage smiled softly at him, a hint of amusement in her voice. “How, exactly?”

“Very carefully,” Cullen smirked. “And your skirts weren't helping.

Ebrisa placed a hand to her side, wincing slightly at the twisted boning poking her ribs. “Yes, this was not made for sleeping.” She began to unlace her dress and Cullen whipped around, facing away. The mage let out a sigh of relief as she pulled the wrinkled garment off and looked for somewhere to set it down. “Cullen? Where can I put this?”

“Ah – just – um,” He motioned behind himself blindly. “There's a chest, I think. Anywhere is fine.”

Ebrisa giggled. “Cullen, you've seen me in less.”

“How did you know that?” Cullen muttered as his face burned, recalling walking in on her bath.

“What?” The mage moved over to stand in front of him, still wearing her chemise under dress.

“Oh, nothing.” He coughed and tried to will his blush away. He thought she was in her small clothes. “Lets just go back to sleep.”

“I'm not stealing your bed, Cullen.” Ebrisa frowned and folded her arms. “You are not sleeping on the floor.”

He starred at her a moment, realizing she wouldn't budge on the matter. “Very well. If you're certain.” Cullen dropped the blanket and scooped up the mage, causing her to squeak in surprise.

“Pu-put me down!”

“That's the plan.” He crossed the short distance to his bed and set Ebrisa on the mattress before climbing in beside her.

She began to panic. “Wh-what?”

“Now neither of us in on the floor.” Cullen slipped off his shirt and reached for the covers, pausing as he noticed Ebrisa staring at him with a mesmerized look on her face. He smirked at her and she blushed, looking away and shifting repeatedly. She hadn't seen Cullen without a shirt on before – she'd barely seen him out of his armor! - and hadn't been prepared for the sight at all. Her body grew hot and her breathing quickened. Dare she take another peek?

Cullen pulled the covers over them and lay on his back with a hand to his forehead, staring intently at the ceiling. His original plan was entirely innocent – just sleep beside one another – but seeing Ebrisa squirming on his bed with flushed cheeks and a heaving chest started a train of thought he wasn't sure he could stop. He was no longer convinced he could trust himself the entire night and would simply wait for the mage to fall asleep and move back to the floor. She could be mad at him in the morning.

Despite the adrenaline rush earlier, Ebrisa fell asleep relatively quickly. Cullen listened to her even breathing and tried to figure out the best way to get off the bed without waking her. As if sensing his intention, Ebrisa turned over and slipped under his raised arm, resting her head and hand on his bare chest. Cullen froze, waiting to see if she was, in fact, still sleeping. He tried to slip away, but Ebrisa's face scrunched up in disapproval. Slowly, Cullen lowered his arm to drape it around her sleeping form and she nuzzled him affectionately. Ebrisa was soft and warm and fit perfectly against him, like she was made just for him. Cullen smiled softly and closed his eyes, taking a deep, relaxed breath.

That night, the demons did not come back.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is so weird,” Hawke mumbled as she walked back into the main hall. “I haven't seen Cullen all morning. He usually oversees the guard rotation, but Briony was doing it instead.”

“You check his office?” Varric sighed, closing his notebook.

“Obviously. Its locked.”

“Isn't there a set of keys somewhere?” Varric got out of the chair. “Wait, let me guess. Curly has them.”

“Yup.” Hawke ended the word with an audible pop to emphasize her annoyance.

“You don't think he's still asleep, do you?”

“Us up before him?” The Inquisitor snickered. “If that's true, we can never let him live it down.”

Varric pulled out his lock picks and grinned. “Let's go see.”

They chuckled quietly and snuck off through the Rotunda. “So, if he is asleep, how should we wake him?” Hawke whispered as Varric worked the lock.

“Water to the face is always classic, but we'd have to carry it up a ladder,” Varric mused.

“True... Oh!” Hawke covered her mouth and they waited for sounds of movement. “Right. I think Cullen keeps all his gear here, including his battle horn for troop movements.”

The lock popped open and Varric grinned. “That'll do, Hawke. That'll do.” Sure enough, the Inquisitor found the horn hanging on the wall and gave her partner a thumbs up, him returning the gesture when he spied Cullen's armor in the corner. They slowly climbed the rungs, biting their tongues to keep their laughter in check. Varric climbed off the ladder first and paused. Something wasn't right. Hawke followed after and unslung the horn, but froze.

“Holy blazing Andraste's bountiful tits!” The Inquisitor exclaimed loudly at the sight of the couple on the bed.

Cullen groaned and looked over at the shocked pair. “Inquisitor? What are you-?” His mouth went dry as he felt someone stir against him. Hawke and Varric, still stunned, gave him simultaneous thumbs up.

“What's going on?” Ebrisa raised herself up slightly and looked around, slowly processing. She gasped once the situation came to her and tried to jump back, losing her balance.

Cullen reached out quickly and caught her around the waist. “That's the edge. You'll fall.
Hawke and Varric started clapping. “No wonder you were still asleep. Long night?” She grinned deviously before turning to the dwarf. “I still kinda want to blow the horn.”

“Moment's passed, I'm afraid,” he sighed.

After ensuring Ebrisa was centered, Cullen climbed of the bed and folded his arms, staring daggers at the intruders. “What are you doing?”

“Look at Curly trying to be all scary without a shirt on,” Varric chuckled.

“You missed your early morning duties, so we came to wake you.” The Inquisitor looked past the commander at the flustered mage sitting awkwardly on the bed. “If I'd known you were busy...”

Cullen blushed behind his anger. “Maker's Breath, Hawke. We didn't – nothing happened!”

“They are dressed, so I'm inclined to believe him,” Varric relented slowly. He leaned over and whispered harshly, ensuring Ebrisa didn't hear. “He did, technically, sleep with Sunshine though.”

“Excellent,” Hawke whispered back.

“Out!” Cullen shouted, knowing he hadn't heard the last of this. Hawke and Varric scrambled off down the ladder, both giggling like children. After hearing the door close, Cullen sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well. That wasn't supposed to happen.”

“Are you in trouble?” Ebrisa scooted closer to him. “The Inquisitor said you missed some duties.”

“Not to worry, it'll be fine.” He paused a moment. “My nightmares usually wake me fairly early, but I didn't have one. I think I have you to thank for that.”

The mage tilted her head in confusion. “But I didn't do anything.”

Cullen chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him. He lay his head on top of hers and smiled. “Just this was enough.”

~~~~~~~~~

Josephine signed the work order and handed it back to the runner. With luck, the scaffolding would be fully assembled before the bricks arrived and they could finally fix that blasted wall. At the ambassador's behest, a set of stairs would also be added to ensure patrols wouldn't constantly be walking through the Herald's room. Let the poor thing have some privacy.

“On your order,” the runner nodded and left the room, pausing to bow at Ebrisa as they crossed paths.

“Lady Montilyet?” The mage began softly.

“Your door will be replaced this afternoon, your worship.” Josephine smiled and stood up from her desk.

“Thank you, but that's not why I'm here.” Ebrisa rubbed her forehead and looked down. “Cullen said there is something I need to read. From my mother?”

“Oh.” The ambassador's smile fell. “Yes, of course.” She shifted some papers around on her desk before holding out a crisp piece of parchment. “This is a copy, I'm afraid. The Inquisitor thought it best to send the original, written in your mother's hand, to Bann Trevelyan.”

Ebrisa took the sheet and let out a shaky breath. “This isn't going to be something good, is it?”

“No, my lady.”

“May I... read it here?”

Josephine smiled sadly. “Of course, my lady. I would prefer it, actually.”

The mage sat down by the fireplace and began to read. Her brows knitted together as she read further, then raised in surprise. Sadness and betrayal overtook her, but she pressed on to the end. It explained so much about her treatment in the Circle. She was there in secret and couldn't risk being discovered, so she had been given a fake name and mostly private lessons to keep her away from other students. Her training was purposefully halted to prevent her from ever leaving or making a name for herself. Lies upon lies... “She hates me,” Ebrisa whispered. “I thought she was looking out for me, but she was just hiding me. Hiding her disgrace.”

“You are no disgrace, my lady.” Josephine sat down beside her and placed a hand on the mage's knee. “Any family would be proud to have you. I'm sure yours is.”

“But Mother...”

“Acted on her own.” Josephine paused slightly after each word to drive them home. “She was fearful for herself, so she hid so much of you from the world. But in the light of day, you are a warm, caring person and she a conniving coward.” The Antivan smiled and squeezed Ebrisa's knee. “If anything, she is the disgrace.”

“There is something I still wonder,” Ebrisa said slowly as she tried to shake the hurt away. “There's no mention of a Renata. Mother seemed to think that person reached out to me, but I don't know that name.”

“Shall I look into it?” Josephine offered.

“Would you? It may be nothing, but...” the mage trailed off.

“If it can shed even a little light on what possessed your mother, it is worth the effort.”

Chapter Text

It was quickly evident to Cullen that Ebrisa had no memory of her mumbled confession the other day. Knowing that she cared for him that much - that she loved him - helped ease his apprehension about admitting his own feelings, but knowing that they were returned didn't mean he could just blurt them out. It had to be done right. She deserved it to be done right.

Ebrisa had been very quiet since reading her mother's letter and spent a lot of time in her room pouring over every detail of the confession and trying to make sense of her upbringing and schooling. Despite so many people telling her Galatea's actions were nowhere near the norm, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were perhaps justified. At least a little. While Ebrisa had her father's eyes and grandmother’s curls, the color of her hair was an oddity for both the Trevelyans and the Lanmours. That coupled with her magic would surely have cast doubt on her true parentage and the ensuing scandal could have torn her family apart. Which was more important, the stability of an entire noble house or the happiness of a single member?

There was an awkward, hesitant knock, and the mage was shaken from her musings. She set down the parchment carefully on her bed and crossed the room to answer the door. Cullen jumped slightly as she opened up, seemingly surprised by her appearance despite having knocked. “Oh, um, I'm not interrupting you, am I?” Cullen cleared his throat and tapped his thumbs on the writing board in his hands. “I can come back later.”

“No, I'm not... I mean, it's fine,” Ebrisa lowered her eyes and trailed a hand over the smooth wood of her new door. “Did you want to come in?”

“Actually, I was to perform an inspection of the battlements...” The commander looked down as well.

“Oh.” Ebrisa tried to mask the disappointment in her voice. Despite saying they wanted to be together when Curtis was still there, they had spent precious little time in eachother's company since the morning after her mother's outburst, and none of that had been alone. The mage tried to hold on to hope and not let negative thoughts seep into her still fragile heart. Cullen wasn't the sort of person to only want something because someone else had it or one to show affection carelessly. “I suppose since the scaffolding is still under construction, you need to cut through my room?”

“No, we have ladders in place for that...” He cleared his throat again. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you might walk with me as I go about my task.”

“Yes!” Ebrisa slapped a hand over her mouth and blushed furiously at her eagerness. She slowly lowered her hand and smiled sheepishly. “I... I'll be quiet as you work. I wouldn't want to be distracting.”

“Oh, you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but... well, you're not. I mean, uh – you shouldn't worry about that,” Cullen stumbled over his words and rubbed his neck as he looked away. Maker, he felt like an idiot. This wasn't how he planned on it going. The mage giggled lightly and stepped out of the room, drawing his attention back to her. He smiled softly as the light returned to her eyes. “To work then.”

They walked across the ramparts, making awkward small talk to break the silence. When they did stop and Cullen focused intently on taking notes, Ebrisa would remain quiet and watch. He caught her looking at him and smiling after a few times and she quickly tore her eyes away and blushed. “Your focus, its... it's still endearing...” she mumbled. Cullen blushed a bit himself as they continued on.

He reached out and took hold of her hand, causing her to jump slightly. “Its a... nice day,” Cullen awkwardly commented as he looked out over the short wall.

“Yes,” Ebrisa squeaked. She cleared her throat and adjusted her hand in Cullen's until their fingers were entwined. “A very nice day...”

This was right. There were no obstacles between them now. He smiled slowly and tightened his grip slightly. “This seemed like too much to ask.”

“What did?” The mage turned to face him.

“This,” Cullen stopped walking and lifted their hands. “You.” He watched her eyes as they darted around, searching his own. “I mean, you're the Herald. You're beautiful, self-sacrificing, humble, determined... You're almost too special for me to even touch. Why you'd ever want me, I'll never know.”

“Cullen...” Ebrisa placed her free hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb against his stubble. “You have a strong, noble heart, a peerless sense of duty and honor, and a level of compassion I've never seen.” She lowered her eyes briefly before returning to meet his gaze. “That you would spend any of that caring on me at all, that you would help me see myself in a positive light... how could I not want you?” And there it was again. That strange look in Cullen's eyes she couldn't place when he first kissed her. She blushed and removed her hand as she turned away slightly.

“Could you hold this?” He offered her the writing board.

“I... of course.” Ebrisa took it awkwardly, unsure what she was supposed to do with it. Cullen slipped his now free hand into her hair and pulled her into a kiss. It wasn't hesitant like their first one, or desperate like their second, but it was powerful all the same and threatened to bring the mage to her knees. He kissed her slowly, gently, but filled her with such an incredible sense of completion and warmth. If she had not been asked to hold the board, she surely would have dropped it long ago.

Cullen pulled away after several minuets and rested his forehead to hers as he caught his breath. If not for the fact he rarely had good dreams, he would not have thought this to be real. Ebrisa released a sigh broken by her shuddering breath and Cullen resisted kissing her all over again for that sound alone. It was so quiet, so innocent, and so very much for his ears only. He heard the click of approaching footsteps and moved back further as he cleared his throat.

He took the writing board from the dazed mage and smirked lightly. Maker, would she always look so overwhelmed when they kissed? He was eager to find out. “Thank you, Ebrisa.”

She blinked open her eyes, face flushed, and took in a startled breath. “I... yes. You're welcome.”

“Commander,” the runner called out when he was close enough. “The armory supply shipment manifest, for your approval.” He held out a small stack of papers.

“Very good.” Cullen reached out and pulled Ebrisa with him. He stared at their still joined hands and blushed. “Uh...”

“I- I'll take that,” Ebrisa quietly offered and held out her free hand.

The runner looked between the red pair and tried not to laugh. “Of course, your worship.” He gave her the sheets and stepped back, gaze falling on their entwined fingers once again. “If you'll excuse me.” The man turned and hurried off before his hold on his laughter slipped. The commander, for all his stern appearance and fierce attitude was remarkably different around the Herald. Just wait until this news made its way through the barracks.

The mage carefully pulled her hand out of Cullen's and offered him the manifest. “For your approval, Commander.”

“Much obliged,” he smirked lightly and made short work of the papers. It seemed correct, but he would need to look at the actual shipment to be sure it matched up. “I'll have to head to the armory after...” Cullen jumped slightly as Ebrisa slipped her hands around his bent elbow, holding him lightly as though he were leading her.

She looked up at him sheepishly with a faint blush. “We... we should continue then.”

“Yes,” Cullen cleared his throat and began moving once again. He planned on stopping at the end of the battlements and taking the time to actually speak with Ebrisa, explain how much he cared for her, without stumbling over his own awkwardness or being interrupted. The area overlooking the garden yard was always empty and peaceful and Cullen hoped being so close to the chapel would give him that extra boost of confidence he'd need to not speak in circles.

As they passed through a crumbling room, he caught a glimpse of two unfamiliar guards slipping out the other side and narrowed his eyes. There were no unfamiliar guards under his command. Cullen removed the Herald's hands from his arm and ushered her behind himself as he quickened his pace to catch the imposters. They heard shouting and grunts and by the time the pair exited the room, Iron Bull was tossing one of the men over the exterior wall - the other lay on the pavement with an axe wedged solidly in his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. My soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground though, so...” the qunari grumbled as he rolled his bleeding shoulder. He grunted at the pain and turned away from the edge to face the confused Inquisitor. “Sorry, Boss. Thought I might need backup.”

“Andraste's Ass, Bull, what was that all about?” Hawke couldn't understand how the mercenary was so nonchalant.

“I'd like to know that as well,” Cullen called out as he joined the other two. “Those weren't our men.”

“And good thing too,” Bull grinned past the stinging of his wound. “I'd hate to think Ben-Hassrath infiltrated your army.”

“Popping in for a moment isn't exactly any better, Bull.” Hawke sighed heavily. “I thought they let you go after you defied their orders at the Storm Coast. Why send assassins?”

The qunari chuckled. “This was a formality, really. You don't think we have real professionals?” He stiffened and let out a quiet growl in his chest. “They. Not part of the we anymore.”

“Ser Iron Bull, your wound...” Ebrisa came up beside him and looked at the deep injury, dark veins slowly spreading outwards. “It needs to be seen to.”

“Bah, its nothing. The poison is doing little more than stinging at this point.”

“Poison?!” The Herald panicked slightly, trying to push the massive fighter towards the steps. “We should get you to the infirmary immediately!”

Bull chuckled at her horrified expression. “Its fine, I've been taking the Saar-Gamek anti-”

Ebrisa reached up and grabbed hold of his pointed ear, dragging him behind her as she moved down the stairs. “We are going to have the healers look you over and Master Adan fix you something.”

“I-I'm fine, little lady,” Bull bent awkwardly as he stumbled after the mage. “I've hurt myself far worse than this fooling around-”

“No,” she cut him off. “I can't simply take your word on something like this, Ser Iron Bull.” She glanced back at him sternly. “Now be a good patient and listen, alright?”

The qunari flinched at the look in the mage's eyes. “Yes, ma'am...”

Cullen watched them go and held back a sigh. Okay, so that didn't go so well.

~~~~~~~~~

Inside. Seclusion. Yes, that was the key. Cullen had waited a few days before asking Ebrisa to walk with him again, this time leading her through some recently opened passageways to a long, narrow room. “Gannon can't figure out why the entrances were walled up,” he began as they entered. “Everything seems to be in fair condition.”

Ebrisa slid her fingers across one of the shelves and wiped up a considerable amount of dust. She raised her eyes to take in the full height of the bookcases through the cobwebs. “This is... wow.”

Cullen chuckled lightly as she cautiously pulled out a book and opened it. “I had a similar thought.”

“This is remarkably well-preserved...” The mage turned a few more pages before replacing the book and trying another. “Parchment would not have survived so long without the aide of magic. Maybe that's why the area was sealed off – some sort of ward placed to keep out the effects of time!” She turned to Cullen excitedly. “I've seen a few of these glyphs before, but can't make heads or tails of the script – some form of Tevene, I think – but can you imagine what could be in here? So many books from... ages ago! Lady Montilyet could reach out to scholars for translations, couldn't she? Oh, but it must be cleaned first – and sorted! There could be several different ancient languages in here and-” She stopped herself and placed the book back on the shelf. “Sorry. I'm babbling... about books...”

The commander came up beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder, looking away awkwardly. “Well, if I didn't think you would enjoy seeing this, I wouldn't have brought you.”

Ebrisa blushed slightly. “You seem to know me quite well...”

“I could stand to learn more.” Cullen turned his gaze to the mage and found her looking up at him shyly. Good, this was good. The two of them were alone in a mostly unknown section of Skyhold. Cullen took a breath. He could do this. “I had something I wanted to-”

A terrified scream echoed into the room and the pair hurried towards the sound, crossing the low hall and up a steep flight of stairs. They burst into Josephine's office to find the ambassador cowering against her desk and one of the guards finishing off a servant with a determined twist of their blade as two others stood at alert.

“Lady Montilyet, what happened? Are you alright?” Ebrisa rushed over to the Antivan and pulled her into a comforting embrace, the other woman eagerly accepting the hug.

“The House of Repose did not seem content to wait,” Josephine said in a slightly shaken voice. She took a calming breath and held the mage for a few more moments as she collected herself before pulling away. “The guards arrived in time, but I should have known the assassins would hide amongst the servants.”

“House of Repose assassins?” Ebrisa turned to the dead figure on the floor. “But who would send killers after you?”

“It is... a bit of a long story.” Josephine waved her hand to dismiss the explanation. “We are in the middle of rectifying the issue, but there is still work yet to be done.”

Cullen folded his arms and sighed. “Ambassador, I think this has really gone on long enough. By the time you gather the rest of your favors, you'll be dead. We should just let Leliana handle this after all.”

“No, no. We are almost finished.”

“Lady Montilyet, you were almost finished.” Ebrisa took hold of the Antivan's hand and looked at her pleadingly. “If there is a quicker way to remove you from harm, then I urge you to take it.”

Josephine shifted uncomfortably under the Herald's gaze. “I... very well, my lady. I will speak with Leliana and the Inquisitor.”

“Good.” The mage smiled warmly. “Who would I take tea with if you were gone?”

The ambassador laughed lightly. “I am sure you could find someone else to talk your ear off while you eat a tray of pastries.”

Ebrisa blushed slightly. “I don't eat that many...”

“Oh no?” Josephine smirked in amusement. “Then why have I yet to enjoy a single cream puff?”

“Th-those are mostly air, they don't count!” Ebrisa defended quickly, glancing back at Cullen momentarily before returning her focus to the other woman. “I'll make a fresh batch later - just for you - if you never mention this around him again,” she whispered as quietly as she could.

The Antivan grinned. “Deal.”

~~~~~~
Two assassination attempts in one week. If that didn't show a lack of diligence on the patrolmen and gate staff, then nothing would. Cullen took out some of his frustration on the men, doubling the posts and intensifying the training. Both of these murder attempts had been somewhat expected, but what would happen when a true assassin tried to take someone out in secret? They did not seem to be prepared for such a thing and Cullen was trying his best to remedy that.

He sat at his desk pouring over reports and held his head in his hands. He thought he'd been able to stay on top of his duties, despite being so distracted with personal matters, but perhaps his focus was too divided to be supervising the men properly. Were these slips in security his own fault? He'd never been involved with someone while shouldering this level of responsibility before, so maybe while the war was raging, he wouldn't be able to be with Ebrisa. Could he wait that long? Would she wait for him? The idea of denying his longing and closing off his feelings all over again made his heart clench with a devastating ache, but if his duty was truly suffering... wasn't he being too selfish?

“So there's a soft side to him?” Cole recited from the top of the bookcase.

Cullen jumped slightly at the sudden voice and turned around. “Cole?”

“I swear, he was smiling for a solid four minuets. Not smirking, smiling.”

The commander looked at him curiously, but the young man simply tapped his foot against the shelving.

“Good for him, right? Good for us too!”

The reports lay forgotten in his hands as Cullen watched Cole tilt his head, as though hearing something.

“Its almost too sweet to watch, but I can't deny seeing them makes me happy.”

“Cole, what is all that?” The commander frowned slightly in confusion.

“They talk about you a lot,” Cole began as he jumped down. “You used to scare them all the time. Fierce, focused, frightening. Commander.” He looked at the man beneath the brim of his hat. “They see how you are with her. Caring, concerned, content. Cullen.”

The speed at which gossip spread through the barracks was rather impressive. The men had been noting the interactions between Cullen and Ebrisa for some time and created their own little stories and rumors about the two, but over the past week they stopped treating the situation as a passing fancy or something to snicker at. The soldiers and guards and scouts and every other person under Cullen's command began to see the relationship for what it really was and felt a profound gladness at seeing what being with the Herald did for him.

“Safe and solid. Protecting and proud. Feel like quiet, stronger when she holds me.” Cole smiled lightly and met Cullen's eyes after speaking the man's own thoughts. “No one blames you. They want you to be happy.”

Cullen sighed softly and set down the reports. “I want to be happy, too.”

“Then be happy.” The spirit moved to the desk and studied the spread out papers. “Too many distractions. Need a moment to breathe. Too much going on here.” He pressed a finger to a letter on the corner of the desk and slid it forward. “It doesn't have to happen at home.”

The commander picked up the sheet curiously and glanced it over. He had nearly forgotten about the mission all together from the chaos created by the hired killers, but seeing the letter in his hand again gave him an idea. Cullen smiled slowly.

“Yes. That will work.” Cole nodded, then vanished.

Chapter Text

When Cullen awkwardly asked her to accompany him for some dealings in Fereldan, Ebrisa eagerly agreed. A chance to spend time together away from Skyhold and demons? How could she refuse? A small number of men accompanied them and were surprisingly quiet during the journey. Occasionally, Cullen would catch someone smirking almost knowingly, but a firm glare would quickly sober the soldier into a neutral expression.

They moved through the Hinterlands, checking up on the relief effort and evaluating their forces' situation. Cullen listened carefully to the officers' concerns and helped them make any needed adjustments. He'd look up periodically and watch Ebrisa from across the camp as she tried to make herself useful, which usually meant helping distribute rations. Sometimes she would meet his gaze and smile timidly, unsure exactly what she should be doing when not with Cullen. Of course, when they were near each other, she didn't know what to do then either. Ebrisa didn't mind the quiet nature of the outing as simply standing next to or riding beside the commander both filled her spirit with peace and sent her pulse racing. It was strange to feel calm and excited at the same time, but she treasured the sensation.

At the now flourishing Crossroads, the Herald followed the elven healer on her rounds and assisted as needed. “There's far fewer injured now, thanks to you lot.” The healer said as they headed back to her small clinic. “And I've not heard a single sneer of knife-ear this while time.”

A group of giggling children rushed past them, a small boy trailing behind the others. He tripped and fell down, uninjured, but on the verge of crying nonetheless. Ebrisa knelt before him quickly and pulled him to his feet. “That looks like fun! What are you playing?”

The boy looked at her expectant, smiling face and forgot his tears. “Tag,” he answered, looking down. “I'm it, but the others are too fast.”

“That is troubling,” the mage sighed. “If only there was someone before you who wasn't already running off.”

The boy grinned widely and poked her shoulder. “You're it!”

Ebrisa gasped and brought a hand to her mouth dramatically. “How unexpected!”

The boy laughed and began running away towards the other children. “The lady's it!” He shouted loudly as Ebrisa climbed to her feet. She looked at the healer apologetically before giving chase.

“As requested, we've been keeping an eye on that dwarven outpost. There's been no sign of darkspawn breaking through as of yet.” Corporal Vale reported, going through his list of updates. He paused when he noticed Cullen staring at the Herald playing in the village below.

She scooped up a child just before the young girl fell into the small pond and set her on the path. “You need to be more careful,” Ebrisa chided before tapping the child's nose. “Because you are it.” She smiled with a wink and dashed off, the girl huffing and following.

“Hard to believe that's the same mage who came here to speak with Mother Giselle,” Vale said with a shake of his head, snapping Cullen to attention. “I swear, every other breath she was apologizing, like her mere presence was offensive. Now instead of hiding, she's running around playing.”

Cullen folded his arms thoughtfully as he continued to watch. “A lot has happened since then.”

“So I've heard,” Vale chuckled. “Good to see the Lady Herald has come into her own.” Cullen hummed in agreement and turned back to the map on the table. “She'll make a good mother one day. A natural with kids, that one.” The corporal said offhandedly.

The commander coughed and tried to hide his blushing cheeks. “You, uh, you were saying about Valammar?” He had been thinking the same thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

On their way back to Skyhold, Cullen called for a halt seemingly out of nowhere. He ordered the men to stay with the horses and lead a confused Ebrisa down a dirt trail and away from the others. They emerged from the path onto the small dock of a fog covered lake.

“Where are we?” Ebrisa had never seen this place before, but felt oddly at ease there.

“You've been through a lot lately and I wanted to give you a moments peace,” Cullen explained. “Even if it is just a moment.” He stopped at the end of the dock and smiled softly. “I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.” He leaned against a post and let out a content sigh. It was good to see the Blight had not spoiled the area. Cole was right, this would work.

“It's beautiful,” Ebrisa whispered as she watched the fog swirling over the still water. “Did you come here often?”

“I loved my siblings, but they were very loud - still are, actually. I would come here to clear my head.” Cullen chuckled. “Of course, they always found me. Mia's good at that.”

“So, this is a special place for you?” The mage turned to him.

“It is. I feel happy here.”

“And...” Ebrisa blushed slightly. “And you want to share it with me?”

Cullen smiled at her. “I do.” He pushed off from the post and turned back to the lake, digging in his pocket. “The last time I was here was the day I left for templar training. My brother gave me this,” Cullen held out a simple, silver coin. “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.” He paused. “Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through.”

Ebrisa smiled at the image of a thirteen year old Cullen hiding the coin and keeping it secret. Something so small and seemingly unimportant that those training him were likely to ignore it, but protected from their eye all the same. “You little troublemaker.”

“Hey, until a year ago, I was very good at following the Order's rules.” He smirked. “Most of the time.”

The mage giggled lightly.

Cullen gazed at the small bit of metal and inhaled deeply. “This is the only thing I took from Fereldan that the Order didn't give me.” He took hold of Ebrisa's hand and pressed the coin into her palm. “Humor me.”

“You're... giving me this?” She asked quietly.

“You either have the best or worst luck out there and we don't know what you'll face before the end. A little more luck to tip the scales towards good can't hurt.” Cullen closed her fingers around the coin.

“But what about you? Won't you still need this?” Ebrisa hesitated, looking up at him worriedly. “I don't want your own luck to run out.”

He watched the concern take over her features as her brow creased and lips curled into a small pout. The light in her eyes danced and drew him in, unknowingly encouraging him to press forward. The commander took a steadying breath. “Its already brought me the woman I love. I don't think I could be any more fortunate.”

Ebrisa's eyes widened and she gripped her hand closed tightly. “What... what did you say?” The coin sure worked fast.

Cullen smiled warmly at her. “I love you, Ebrisa.”

She threw her arms around his neck and crashed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. Cullen staggered back, unprepared, and grabbed hold of a post as he tried to recover his balance and support her. Ebrisa poured every ounce of happiness through her lips and into him and Cullen couldn't help but moan into her mouth as he returned the kiss. She was making him dizzy and lightheaded, like taking too much lyrium, but far more addictive. He felt a shiver run through his entire being and could no longer think. He lost focus of everything but her and his hand slipped.

They fell into the lake, Ebrisa releasing a startled scream at the last moment as she realized her mistake. She wanted to stay under the water forever, feeling embarrassed and foolish for knocking them over with her overzealous reaction. She had yearned to hear those words from Cullen for so long and it had seemed like ages since she heard them from anyone that she almost forgot what it sounded like. Now they were in a lake. Marvelous.

Cullen pulled her up by the arm and dragged the both of them back to the dock with more than a little effort, taking hold of the planks with one hand. A soldier came bursting from the edge of the path, hand to his hilt. “Commander! We heard the Herald scream, is everything alright?”

“Make camp and send word to Skyhold,” Cullen sighed from the water. “There has been a delay.”

The soldier held back his laughter as best he could. “Ye-yes, ser! We'll get a fire going right away.” He ran off, letting a snicker slip out.

“I-I'm sorry,” Ebrisa stammered, blushing furiously and trying to look anywhere but at him.

Cullen placed a soaked, gloved hand on her cheek. “Are you alright? You didn't choke on any water, did you?”

“No. I'm fine,” she mumbled quietly.

“Good.” He pulled her into another deep kiss, the mage going limp and threatening to slip under the water again. Cullen broke away and moved his hand from her cheek to around her waist to hold her safely against him. “That was a rather bracing reaction you had.”

“I'm sorry...” she sighed, dropping her head and wrapping an arm loosely around his neck for support.

“Would you stop saying that?” Cullen chuckled.

“But you had that all planned out, and then I just... I...” The mage shook her head, embarrassed and unsure what to do. “I'm sorry, I-”

“Was overcome with a moment of intense, heated passion that made me weak in the knees?” He smirked at her before leaning in close to whisper huskily in her ear. “You can do that as often as you like.”

Ebrisa closed her eyes and shivered, failing to keep her airy moan from escaping. The sound lit a fire inside Cullen and he pulled her tighter against him, feeling her body's heat seep into his and block out the chill from the water. He began to kiss her neck, nearly growling against the wet flesh as the mage let out soft gasps and mewls through her parted lips. Cullen felt her pulse quicken as she clung to him desperately, her entire body trembling.

“Commander, do you need assistance getting the Herald...” Another soldier paused at the end of the path and blushed at the sight. “Oh. Um, never mind.” He backed off awkwardly, leaving the two alone again.

Cullen pulled away suddenly, realizing what he had been doing. “That was, um, sorry.” He was struck with more than a little shame for taking advantage of the situation, even if it had been... instinctual to touch the woman in his arms so. Ebrisa panted softly as she looked at him, the redness on her neck easily contrasting against the rapidly growing paleness of the rest of her skin as the cold water asserted its dominance over even her warmth. Cullen cleared his throat and pulled his gaze off her, reluctant for his touch to follow suit. “Let's get out of the lake and dry off. I'll not have you getting sick from my childhood sanctuary.”

Chapter Text

“Master Harrit, I know you don't specialize in... accessories, but I was wondering if you could make something for me.” Ebrisa rubbed her forehead and looked at the blacksmith hopefully.

“Sorry, your worship, but if its not a weapon or armor, I don't trust myself to do a good job.” Harrit held up his hands. “These just aren't made for delicate works.”

“I see,” the mage sighed and gripped the item in her hand tightly. “It was a silly idea anyways.”

“I like silly ideas.” Dagna grinned. “Well, I like proving them not silly. What were you looking for, Herald?”

Ebrisa chewed on her lip as the dwarf stared at her expectantly. “Well, see, I was given something very important and I want to keep it with me, but safe. Its not very large, so I was thinking it could go on a chain? Maybe?”

“How not very large are we talking about?” Dagna went to her work bench and began pulling out her finer tools.

The mage held out a silver coin in her hand.

“You don't need to pay me. I'm already getting an amazing salary.”

“No, this is what I want protected...” Ebrisa looked down, blushing in embarrassment.

“Oooooh, okay.” The dwarf turned the coin in her hands and tilted her head. It looked pretty normal. “I can punch a hole in this for you, no problem.”

“No!” The mage cried out before covering her mouth. “I mean, I was thinking it could be encased in something... but still be seen?” She sighed and rubbed her forehead again. “See? Silly.”

The archanist smiled slowly. “I think I got just the thing for that, your Heraldiness. Just come back later today to pick it up.”

Ebrisa shifted awkwardly. “I... um... I think I'll stay here, if you don't mind.” She played with her fingers. “Its not that I don't trust you, but, um, I don't want to let it out of my sight.”

Dagna laughed lightly. “Wow, this must be a pretty special coin. What is it, exactly?”

The Herald smiled sheepishly. “The best good luck charm in Thedas.”

“That's quite the claim,” Dagna laughed as she began taking measurements. “Though if anyone needs it, its you. Ah, no offense intended.” The archanist chatted lightly as she worked, but was very careful with her project. The morning sun had already slipped out of sight by the time she finished and spun around to the Herald. “Tadah! Have it on a nice little silverite chain for you too.” The coin was layered between two slices of a clear ore that were secured along the edge with a band of silverite.

“Oh, this is wonderful...” Ebrisa took the amulet in her hands and turned it around. “What kind of ore is this? It's almost... silvery.”

“That would be serault-infused glass.” Dagna smiled. “That Bonny lady sells it and its real sturdy. I, uh, I took the liberty of adding a few protection runes to the band. That thing won't be falling off any time soon, no siree. Or, no ma'amee...” She folded her arms. “Hmm. There has to be a better female version of that.”

The mage slid the chain around her neck and touched the encased coin gently. It was silly, she knew it was, but she felt immensely happy. “Mistress Dagna, may I hug you?”

The dwarf laughed and held out her arms. “I never turn down hugs!”

The Herald gave her a firm squeeze and a bright smile. “Thank you so much for doing this. I know you have a lot of things to do that are far more important. If you ever need anything I can help with, please, do not hesitate to ask.”

Dagna slowly rolled her eyes overhead. “Weeeeeeeell, since you brought it up...”

~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa walked back to her room, shaking and squeezing her left hand. The mark throbbed oddly from Dagna's prodding and she hoped it would pass sooner rather than later. She stilled at the sight of Sera and Hawke leaning over the horse pens and tossing... something the mounts did not seem to enjoy inside. “Lady Inquisitor, Serrah Sera.” They froze instantly. “What are you doing?”

“Hush, Quizy. Maybe she won't notice us.” Sera whispered.

“She's already named us.” Hawke whispered back. “I think we've been caught.”

The mage moved closer and peered into the stables. “Why are you tossing rocks into the pens?”

“They aren't rocks, they're cookies!” Sera defended.

“No, they aren't,” Hawke sighed. “That's why we're ditching them, remember?”

Ebrisa picked one up and cracked it open with more than a little effort. “This is just a burnt lump of flour and... I don't even know what else.” She looked at the disappointed pair. “Didn't you have a recipe to follow?”

Sera waved a hand through the air. “If we had a recipe, they wouldn't be Inquisition cookies! They need to be special. Be... us!”

Ebrisa smiled softly and shook her head. “You can't just throw things together and expect them to be a cookie. Baking has a lot of ratios to consider – almost like alchemy that you eat. At least that's how my family's confectionery explained it to me. You can make changes to create your own recipe after you have a proper base established. Of course, you can always alter the base with certain substitutions.”

Hawke and Sera looked at each other as the mage continued talking about the science behind baking and nodded before grabbing the Herald's arms and dragging her to the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~

“Yes! Friggen bees to the rescue!” Sera cheered as she ran across the yard with a basket of cookies, handing them out as she went. She paused a moment and looked Cullen over before shoving one into his hand with a grin.

He looked from the golden circle to the flour coated elf skeptically. She rolled her eyes and popped one in her own mouth. “Donf ea' e' if 'ou donf wan' 'oo,” she grumbled around the cookie before running off again.

“Serrah Sera, get back here!” Ebrisa called from the kitchen door. “We still need to wash the dishes!”

“I'll go get her...” Hawke slipped past the Herald, brushing some flour from her dark hair as she too made her escape.

Ebrisa sighed and went back inside, rolling up her sleeves to begin work at the wash bucket on the counter. She didn't mind helping with the Inquisition cookies and it was actually fun to bake with Sera and Hawke, if not a little chaotic. That didn't mean she would do it again any time soon, at least not without some rules in place. Sure, the kitchen staff here would let her help prep for meals on some days or give her the run of the place when she made sweets, but working with the the two short haired women today warmed her heart. It felt nice to be included in their strange, little quest.

“Do I want to eat this?” Cullen asked from the doorway, still holding the cookie. “I've learned to be weary of any food Sera offers me.”

Ebrisa jumped slightly and turned her head away. “There's nothing heinous in there, I promise.”

He took a cautious bite and hummed curiously at the flavor. It wasn't bad, just a bit all over the place. “So, what are these non-heinous flavors I'm tasting?”

The mage lifted a hand, sending bubbles into the air. “Honey with ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and pepper. Any of those would have paired with the honey fine and I tried to get them to only pick one or two, but the Inquisition is made up of all kinds of people, so Inquisition cookies should be the same.” She returned to her scrubbing with a sigh.

Cullen ate the rest of the cookie as he walked fully into the oddly clean kitchen and looked around. “Did they leave you to clean everything?”

“I got them to help while the cookies were baking. They are remarkably agreeable when there is a looming promise of baked goods,” she mused softly.

“That is useful information,” the commander chuckled. He leaned on the table and noticed a basket covered with a cloth. “How many Inquisition cookies did you make?” He lifted the cloth and paused.

“Oh! No, those are-” Ebrisa began.

“Butterscotch and oatmeal?” Cullen starred at the cookies in disbelief, picking one up to study it.

She laughed nervously. “Yes, well, Mia's been keeping in touch and gave me your mother's recipe in hopes I could figure it out for her. She, um, she said they were your favorite growing up, but you only got them on special occasions.” Ebrisa hunched her shoulders. “I don't have anything special or meaningful to give you, like you did to me, so I thought...” She mumbled, feeling foolish.

Here's something I've treasured for over fifteen years.

Here are some cookies!

Definitely not the same.

Cullen ate one slowly, the still warm confection bringing back some of his fondest family memories and happy moments he had almost lost to lyrium's effects. So many tiny fragments stitching together until the images were clear and bright in his head. The cookie was simple by comparison of the other things Cullen knew the mage to have baked in the past, but this was by far the best thing she could have made. It tasted like... home. He came up behind Ebrisa and hugged her around the shoulders, causing her to squeak and drop the bowl back into the bucket. “Thank you. They're perfect.”

She turned her head away. “Go-good. I'm glad they came out right. Th-the trick is to mix the oats in the butterscotch when its still hot, that way they get all soft...”

Cullen leaned over her shoulder, trying to see her face. “I'm more curious as to why you seem to be hiding from me.”

“Well, you see, baking with those two can be very... eventful.” She squirmed in his arms. “I need to clean up.”

“I say the kitchen staff will be more than pleased with what you've already done.” He released his embrace and put a firm hand on her shoulder, turning the mage to face him.

Unlike the other two bakers, Ebrisa was mostly free of flour. She made up for this with streams of golden syrup in her hair and along her face and chest. “They... they had a honey fight. Lady Hawke called me collateral damage.” She blushed furiously at her messy appearance. “I'm just glad they waited until the dough was made, or there might not have been enough left for baking.”

Cullen just looked at her, not saying anything.

“I- I was going to get cleaned up and then bring you the cookies,” the mage mumbled, looking up bashfully as a bead of honey dripped from her hair and slowly made its way down her face. She reached up to wipe it away, but Cullen caught her hand. He leaned in and licked the bit of honey from her cheek with the tip of his tongue, causing the breath to catch in Ebrisa's throat and erasing all thoughts of movement. She had expected him to laugh or sigh in exasperation, perhaps even become a little angry at the archer and Inquisitor, but definitely not this. “Cu...Cullen?”

He pulled away quickly and dropped her hand. “Sorry! That was – um – sorry.” The commander rubbed his neck and cleared his throat. “We should get you cleaned up. In a bath, I mean.” He blushed and looked away. “You, I mean – I wouldn't be there – just you.” Cullen took a step back, trying to not look at her. “I'll just... take these and go.” He picked up the cookies and glanced at her briefly. “Thank you again, and, um...” Cullen trailed off, unsure if he should actually say what he was thinking. “Honey suits you,” he quietly mumbled before walking briskly away with the basket.

Chapter Text

Before leaving for Emprise Du Lion, the Inquisitor made sure everyone had nice, warm armor. Ebrisa insisted she would be fine, but Hawke would hear none of it and instructed Harrit to whip something together. He complained about having such a short amount of time to complete the armor, but managed to finish a halla leather enchanter's coat before they departed. Ebrisa put it on over a gray woolen dress with thick stockings running up her thighs, keeping her black boots and blue shawl, like always. Cullen grumbled that it wouldn't be nearly enough if Sahrnia had gotten so cold the river was completely frozen over, and slipped a cloak into the Herald's saddle bag when he thought she wasn't looking.

She saw, but didn't say anything, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips instead before she mounted the hart. Cullen blushed furiously as Varric and Dorian made cooing noises, and the Herald fidgeted and hide her tinted cheeks inside her cowl, having forgotten the others were even there. Despite being embarrassed, Ebrisa giggled lightly as they departed.

Once they arrived, she was the first to admit both the Inquisitor and Cullen had been right about the freezing conditions in Emprise Du Lion and that she would not have lasted long in her silks and dragonling armor, despite her unusual natural warmth. Ebrisa dismounted from Rufous and rubbed his neck in concern. The hart nudged her forward, indicating the cold didn't bother him, and the mage stroked his nose before putting on the cloak and meeting up with Hawke and Harding.

“Red templars? Of course...” Hawke sighed heavily. “Here I come to save the day. Again.”

Harding grinned and shook her head. “That's why we love you.”

“Bull, are you really not going to put on at least a shirt?” Dorian stared at the qunari incredulously. “I thought the Inquisitor ordered everyone to bring warm armor.”

“I did!” Iron Bull slapped the side of his legs. “These pants are great bear hide. And check it, fur lined gloves and boots. I'm all sorts of toasty.”

“But half of your body is completely exposed!” The Tevinter huffed.

“Thought you'd appreciate that,” Bull grinned and walked past him with a wink. Dorian groaned and held his head, trying to hide the small blush on his cheeks.

The group walked through the small, devastated town of Sahrnia, getting their first glance at the area. Homes were abandoned by those who managed to escape before the river turned solid and the outer walls barely kept out snow drifts, let alone wildlife. Supplies were running more than low and the people huddled together, pooling resources to survive. Hawke was informed about a demon lurking around and that the tainted templars had not only taken over the local quarry, but captured many of the villagers as well. What were they even trying to mine out here? She figured the best course of action was to close the rifts and take the more unpredictable risk out first.

The tears in the Veil over the frozen river where difficult to handle, the fighters sliding over the ice as they tried to charge and block. Ebrisa raised small ice walls behind them to help with footing, but the battles still took far longer than they would have on firm ground.

“Flighty little bastard,” Bull growled as the last despair demon spun out of reach. Varric knocked it out with a well placed bolt and sighed heavily as the Herald connected with the rift for the last time and sealed it shut.

“All in favor for getting back to dirt and stone?” Hawke raised her hand and began the awkward process of crossing the ice. She slipped suddenly, Blackwall grabbing her wrist to try and catch her, but the momentum of the fall and lack of traction took him down as well. He landed on top of the Inquisitor with a clang and the both of them groaned in pain. “Sweet merciful Andraste, let this be the last time I have to walk on ice,” Hawke whined quietly.

“We're in a frozen corner of Orlais,” Blackwall muttered as he lifted himself up slowly. “I don't think that's very likely.” He looked at Hawke beneath him to say something more, but it slipped his mind entirely. The Inquisitor stared at him, face flushed from fighting and the cold and short hair sprawled out messily around her. “I... um...” The warden found it difficult to think.

“Our Inquisitor, lady and gentlemen,” Varric began as he clapped. “Graceful as ever.”

“I resent that,” Hawke grumbled, snapping Blackwall back to attention and effectively coaxing him to climb to his feet. He pulled her up carefully and the group continued to the shore.
~~~~~~~~~~~

They managed to overtake the smaller Red Templar encampments and destroy every piece of corrupted lyrium they ran across – which was a surprisingly large amount - as well as close two more rifts in the winding landscape. Hawke was trying to find the quarry, but the numerous tunnels and caverns were difficult to navigate with everything so blindingly white.

A howling cut through the wind and the group paused. “Wolves. Pretty close by the sound of it,” Blackwall mused.

“Leave 'em. They're just trying to survive like everything else out here.” Hawke sighed. “At least these ones aren't possessed.”

They continued to walk, but Ebrisa stayed in place. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes, dear. Wolves.” Dorian raised a brow. “We've already established that.”

“No, there's something else... I can barely make it out.” The Herald frowned as she strained to listen.

“Probably the packs dinner,” Iron Bull nudged her, urging her to follow the rest of the departing group.

Ebrisa's eyes widened suddenly, then she launched into a Fade-step in the direction of the howling.

“Oh for – Boss!” Bull called out to Hawke, making the others turn around. “The little lady ran off. Let me go fetch her before the wolves do.”

“Are you serious with this?” Hawke grumbled, leading the group to chase after the blonde mage. They found her huddled in front of a hollow tree, blocking the opening and swatting a bleeding arm at the wolves. She had already killed a few while several more ran around, trying to extinguish the fire from their fur. “Well, I tried to leave them alone,” the Inquisitor sighed as she withdrew her greatsword and cleaved into a burning wolf. The group killed the pack efficiently and put out the flames before it spread to the trees.

“What is the matter with you, huh?” Iron Bull pulled Ebrisa from the fallen tree to look her over. Her left sleeve was torn to shreds, dripping with blood from the numerous bites and gashes on her arm. “Little lady, what happened to those barriers of yours?”

“I- I didn't have time to think and fire would have been bad,” she stammered, looking worriedly at the hollow as the qunari directed her to sit.

“Not to fret, I'll make you good as new. Not even a scar.” Dorian knelt at her side in the snow and began healing her arm. “I don't stay this pretty by luck, you know.”

Hawke bent down and reached into the hollow to see what the Herald had been protecting. She pulled out a small bundle of worn cloth and her breath stopped. “Oh. Its a... oh.” The Inquisitor awkwardly picked up the bundle in her arms and it began crying loudly immediately. “Its a baby. She found a baby.” Hawke tried desperately to remember how to hold infants, but it had been so long since Carver and Bethany had been that small. The thing couldn't be more than a few months old. “Varric, here.” She thrust the child into his hands. “You're parental and stuff.”

“But I don't-” The dwarf held the baby out at arm's length and tried to hand it off to Blackwall, who stepped away and raised his hands defensively.

Ebrisa quickly untied her shawl with her free arm and set it in her lap. “Master Varric, she's cold! Who knows how long she's been out here.” She motioned to the wool covering and the dwarf quickly set the child down. Ebrisa wrapped the fabric around the shivering, tiny form and sighed as it quietened.

“So small!” Bull picked up the child and grinned, and it began crying again.

“You've scared the poor thing,” Dorian huffed as he finished mending the Herald. “Allow me. I'm far more soothing to look at.” He took the child and rocked it, but it continued to cry. “Well that does little to help my self image.”

Ebrisa stood up and caressed the back of her gloved fingers over the baby's pale face. “Still so cold,” she whispered worriedly and took the infant into her arms, cradling it gently against her chest and drawing her hand soothingly over its form, sending light waves of heat into its body. The child quietened and squirmed against her as she bounced it lightly. “What are you doing out here, huh?”

“I'm sad to say it, but I think the child was being exposed.” Blackwall sighed. “Sahrnia is in dire straights and its possible they just couldn't take care of the babe any longer.”

The Herald held the child closer to her and turned her body away from the warden, as if the words would do more harm. “Exposed? Like, left to die? On purpose?” She stared at him in shock.

“After the rebellion in Kirkwall, a lot of people were unable to support themselves, let alone little ones,” Varric said reluctantly. “Normally, the Chantry could take in kids like that, but, well, there was no more Chantry... let's just say Dark Town got a lot noisier.”

Ebrisa was horrified. “Someone in town has to know about this child. Ma-maybe it's parents are in the quarry and this was someone else's idea.” She looked down at the infant in her arms and smiled gently at it. “No parent would do this intentionally to such a sweet thing.”

“Let's go back to one of the camps, look at the damn map again, drop off the kid, and go clear out that quarry.” Hawke cleared her throat and looked around. “Anyone know where camp is?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they walked into the Tower of Bone camp, the soldiers were a bit confused as the Herald bounced a bundle of cloth in her arms and Hawke went straight to the map. Ebrisa poked around the food stores with one hand, humming thoughtfully at the options before grabbing a piece of hard tack, two cups, and a spoon. She sat down by the camp fire after filling one cup with warm water and took a moment to lay out her supplies. She added the liquid little by little to the other and mashed the hard tack into a thin paste. By now the soldiers were more than curious and watched intently as the mage slipped off her gloves with her teeth before readjusting the bundle in her arms. They did a double take as they realized it was an infant.

Ebrisa tried to get the child to drink water from the spoon, but it refused the strange metal. She bite her lip in concern and picked up the other cup, but hesitated. The mage dipped a finger in the thin paste and pressed it gently against the babe's mouth. It pulled a face, confused at first, but the child quickly overcame it and sucked the food from her finger tip. The Herald sighed in relief, continuing to feed the child one fingertip at a time. It was slow going, but Ebrisa didn't mind and smiled gently at the infant in her arms. How could anyone leave this baby alone in the snow? It just wasn't right, no matter what the circumstances. Leaving a child to die of exposure was no different from dealing a fatal blow yourself. Maybe you could sleep a little better, thinking that nature was kinder to the child than you, but deep down you have to know they died.

The group of soldiers watching her increased as she started to rock the infant, letting it continue to suck on her finger, its small hand holding the digit in place. She swayed gently and hummed soothing melodies as the babe lolled off. Ebrisa looked up slowly after the child fell asleep and tried to find Hawke.

“Lady In-” One of the soldiers covered his mouth before continuing in a whisper. “Lady Inquisitor left with the others some time ago. She said you should stay here with your charge.”

Ebrisa nodded and stood up carefully, hoping the others would come back with good news.
~~~~~~~~~

Hawke plopped down heavily by the fire and let out a deep sigh. Not only had they cleared the quarry, but they captured Suledin Keep as well, effectively crushing the Red Templar presence in the area. Stopping that choice spirit Imshael had been exhausting, but it was the demon's own fault for not being able to deliver on those virgins he promised. Maker, was she tired.

“We've sent word to Skyhold about the keep, Inquisitor.” An officer saluted. “With luck, we can set up a proper presence here and get these people the relief they need while they're still around to use it.”

She nodded and leaned back. “I'll head back in the morning. We could all use a good rest.” Hawke looked around the camp and frowned. “The Herald didn't run off, did she?”

“Ah, no, Inquisitor.” The officer smirked lightly. “The two of them are already getting a good rest.” He motioned to one of the tents before walking off.

Hawke pulled herself up and over to the tent, lifting the flap and peeking inside. She dropped it closed and rushed to find the others. “You guys have got to see this. Come on.” Though the group was tired, they followed their leader across the wooden ramps. She pressed a finger to her lips before opening the tent flap and motioning them to look inside.

Ebrisa lay asleep on her left side, head on her arm, cradling the child loosely with her hand. The babe lay facing her, holding her right hand and sucking absently on one of her fingers. It was still wrapped in Ebrisa's shawl, but someone had draped another blanket gently over the pair to keep them warm.

“How adorable is that?” Dorian whispered softly.

“If only Curly could see this,” Varric sighed. “Anyone good at sketching?”

Blackwall chuckled and shook his head. “Be still my heart.”

“Its little lady and teeny-tiny lady,” Bull cooed.

The Inquisitor dropped the flap back down, causing the men to moan in protest. “Just thought I'd share that little gem before we turned in for the night.” She looked down and frowned, becoming uncharacteristically solemn for a moment. “We'll figure out what to do in the morning.”
~~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a crying child. She was confused at first, but quickly sprang to attention and scooped the babe into her arms, rocking it gently. It quietened, but was still fussy and the mage bundled the both of them up before stepping out of the tent. She changed the child's wrappings with some clean linen from the medical station and sang softly to it. Ebrisa bounced the baby, holding it to her chest and wrapping her cloak tightly around the both of them as she moved around camp. She tried to stay away from the tents, not wanting to wake anyone up with her pacing. The soldiers keeping watch grinned at their Herald as she passed them, hearing her sing non-Chantry tunes for the first time. The babe continued to squirm and she decided it needed another feeding, so Ebrisa sat down by the fire and made more of the thin gruel. A scout looked up at her and smiled softly as he shifted some papers on his clipboard.

The mage began feeding the child, humming and rocking her gently.

“Well look at you. I dare say you're having fun.” Blackwall smirked and sat down beside her. “Take care of a lot of babies, do you?”

Ebrisa laughed lightly and shook her head. “This is the first. It's like each time I meet a new child, they are younger and younger.”

“You really put yourself out there to save this little one,” the warden began slowly. “The rest of us, we just ignored the crying. Couldn't pick it out from the other wild noises. But you... you rushed over because you thought it might be something more.”

“Truthfully, I'd never heard a baby cry before. I could only tell it wasn't an animal making that sound.” She pressed another dab of food into the infant's mouth. “Maker, if I had been even a minuet later... I had to pull a wolf out of the hollow as it was.”

“You heard the cry, saw the danger, and risked yourself anyways.” Blackwall sighed quietly. “I wish I was as good a person as you, my lady.”

Ebrisa looked up at him in confusion. “Ser Blackwall, if I learned anything from Adamant, its that Grey Wardens sacrifice everything for an angry, thankless world. You are a far better person than I could ever be.” She turned back to the child in her arms and continued to feed it. “I'm pretty selfish. Only on one or two points, but very strongly.”

“I'm sure what you consider selfish, others would see as normal wants and desires,” he chuckled.

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the crackling fire and scratching of the scout's quill. “Since no one came for the child, I take it you didn't find the parents?”

Blackwall sighed heavily. “No, my lady. We asked all of the townsfolk and no one claimed her. No one stepped forward as to even knowing the child existed.” He shook his head. “I took that to mean it was the town's decision to expose the child. No one here can take her in.”

“I see...” Ebrisa looked down sadly and held the babe closer.

“We... you know that we can't take her back with us,” the warden continued. “We're fighting a war and it's just not a safe place for one so helpless.”

“I know...” the Herald said quietly, her voice cracking. “This... this is the last town before Skyhold. If we go a little out of the way, we can take her to a Chantry in Halamshiral. It would add at least half a day, I think...” Tears slipped down her face as she watched the infant suck on her finger. “But I had just hoped that she would have some family somewhere. That she wouldn't be alone.”

“She'll be alright, my lady. With the civil war over, Halamshiral is one of the safest places she could be.” Blackwall placed an arm around her shoulders and gave the Herald a reassuring squeeze. “A child rescued from certain death by the Herald of Andraste is sure to be well tended to in any Chantry. I'm certain she'll want for nothing and grow up to be as strong in the faith as you.”

Ebrisa nodded and went back to feeding the child as Blackwall stood up.

“Besides, I'm sure you'll have one of your own soon enough once the commander makes an honest woman out of you.” He chuckled at the furious blush that erupted onto the mage's face as she tried to stammer out a protest. The warden smiled softly before bending down and kissing the top of her head lightly. “Cullen's a lucky man.”

The mage turned to face him, cheeks still red and eyes filled with confusion.

Blackwall patted her shoulder and nodded. “Good night, my lady.”

Chapter Text

Though Hawke had sent word that they would be delayed, she hadn't given any specifics as to why. In fact, it seemed like there were several things missing from the scouting and field reports of Emprise Du Lion. When they did arrive back in Skyhold, it was already late in the afternoon and Hawke called for the debriefing before she even got off her horse, the others still trickling through the gate.

The Inquisitor gave her advisors the full run down of the Red Templars' operation, including the attempts to infect giants and other creatures with corrupted lyrium. They all agreed that freeing the snowy region of the tainted templars had dealt a significant blow to Corypheus' forces. “Oh, and here are some sketches of the area, including Suledin Keep. We need to get someone in charge over there as soon as possible.” She handed a stack of papers to Cullen with a sly grin.

“I believe I have someone in mind for that task.” Josephine smiled and made a note.

“Hmm. There's quiet a bit of courtyard to this keep, but the inner structure looks well fortified.” Cullen mused as he flipped through the papers. “Do you know what the-” He paused suddenly at one of the pages, his chest tightening. “Inquisitor?”

“Oh, there are a few of those.” Hawke smirked. “Go on, keep looking.”

Despite himself, Cullen looked at the other sheets at the bottom of the stack to similar results. “What... what is this about? I don't...”

Leliana snatched one from his hand. “Oh, how adorable.” She smiled.

“Did we not mention that the Herald saved a baby from exposure and a pack of wolves?” Hawke tilted her head. “Took care of the little thing for an entire day while the rest of us finished cleaning house.”

Josephine tugged a sheet from the unfocused commander and squealed in delight at the sketch. “Oh, they're asleep! How cute!”

“Josie, switch me.” Leliana rushed over. “She's feeding it with her finger. Look at that expression on the Herald's face.” The women traded sheets and cooed at the drawings of Ebrisa and the child.

“Are these real?” Cullen asked quietly, gazing at the sketch of the mage cradling the babe. It looked so natural for her...

“Of course they are!” Hawke folded her arms. “Though by the time I saw the Herald sleeping beside the baby, it was sucking on her finger. Guess the scout did that one before we got back to camp.”

“Aww,” Leliana and Josephine said in unison.

“Where is the little one now?” The Antivan asked.

“Ah, well, no one in Sahrnia claimed the child, so we took it to a Chantry.” Hawke twisted the ends of her hair. “Herald was feeling pretty down about the whole thing.”

“Of course,” Leliana sighed. “If they exposed the child, they didn't want it in the first place.”

“Well, that pretty much wraps it up for now.” The Inquisitor sighed and dusted off her hands. “Done before supper. Yes!”

Cullen set down the mission sketches and snatched the sheets from his colleagues before leaving the room, ignoring the giggling behind him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with this information. He already knew Ebrisa was good with children, that her general kindness allowed her to take their tiny concerns into account and make them smile. He already knew she would make a good mother and that he yearned to see her with children of her own.

Of their own.

But that was something they couldn't have yet. There was the matter of the war and Corypheus and tears in the Veil and the world was just too dangerous at the moment to think of planning a happy future. But Cullen did think about it, and often. How could he not?

He set the sketches in his desk to torment himself with later and continued on to Ebrisa's room. Cullen knocked lightly on her door, but heard no reply and entered quietly.

“All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,

From the lowest slaves

To the highest kings.

Those who bring harm

Without provocation to the least of His children

Are hated and accursed by the Maker.”

Ebrisa looked up from her shrine at Cullen, hair disheveled and still in her travel gear as if she began praying as soon as she returned. Her eyes were slightly red and she couldn't bring herself to smile, despite being glad to see him. She sighed and lowered her head, holding an amulet tightly in her hands. “They pretended they didn't know her. The entire town. But someone did know. Someone had to. Someone who cared enough to place the child in a tree hollow instead of out in the open to give her at least a tiny chance. But... no. They all lied about it. I... I just can't understand that.”

Cullen closed the door and sat down beside her on the floor. “You did the right thing by taking her away from there. She was lucky you found her.”

The mage smiled sadly at him and opened her hands to reveal the coin. “I don't think I've shown you this yet. I had Dagna do it after you gave it to me.” She released it and let it fall back against her chest. “It really does work. I managed to get to the babe just before the wolves did.” She sighed and slumped forward. “She was such a little thing, Cullen. So cold and alone and... I didn't want to leave her that way.”

He rubbed her back soothingly. “The Inquisitor said you found a Chantry to take her in. The Sisters will make her feel welcome.”

“No, I mean...” She looked up at him, eyes filled with shame. “I... I left my shawl with her. I know it was the first thing you gave me and I shouldn't have parted with it, but I just wanted her to feel loved – even if only for a moment.” Ebrisa looked down. “Please don't be upset with me.”

Cullen pulled her into his lap and held her tightly. “You gave up something precious so a child could grow up knowing someone cared for her. How could that possibly make me upset?” He kissed her temple before resting his head on top of hers and sighing deeply. “Just don't give too much of yourself away or there will be nothing left for me.”

She laughed lightly and nuzzled his neck. “Not to worry. There's plenty of me that's only for you.”

~~~~~~~~

“Sketches? Someone drew sketches?” Ebrisa blushed in embarrassment and set down the tea cup.

“Oh yes, and I am eternally grateful for the scout who did them.” Josephine sighed wistfully. “The pair of you were so adorable. I would have been immensely distraught if I hadn't been able to get at least a glimpse.”

The mage smiled lightly and looked down. “I asked the Revered Mother to write me every month. To keep me up to date with the child's progress.”

“That would be-”

Hawke slammed Josephine's door open, eyes red and glaring at the Herald. “Where is he? What did you do?”

“Lady Inquisitor?” Ebrisa looked at her curiously. “What are you-?”

Hawke threw a small piece of wood at the mage, cutting her off and forcing her to flinch. “Blackwall! Where did he go? He wrote you a letter: I'm sorry, my lady. I can't keep pretending.” She stormed over to the sofa and shoved the already crumpled parchment into the Herald's hands. “What did you say to him? Did you reject him? Where did he go?”

Ebrisa stared up at the leader with utter confusion. “I didn't know he left. Why would he say anything to me about it?”

“Because he's in love with you!” Hawke shouted angrily.

The mage's eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly. “He what? He never said...”

“He told me as much after Adamant.” Hawke looked down, hurt seeping through the fading rage on her face. “If he was going to tell anyone about leaving, it would have been you...”

Josephine covered her mouth as she darted her eyes between the other women.

“But I never... Ser Blackwall knows I love Cullen.” Ebrisa held the short letter to her chest as she tried to search her memories for any indications of the warden's feelings. He'd hug her and ruffle her hair and made her little gifts... and he kissed her head that night in Sahrnia. It was so innocent, like the kiss she'd given Cullen in Haven. Had Blackwall been holding back like she did because he knew his feelings weren't returned? “I didn't mean to...” she whispered out softly and stared at the object that was thrown at her – a small, carved horse.

“Inquisitor,” one of Leliana's agents called from the doorway. Hawke walked over to him and looked over more papers they'd uncovered. One was addressed to her, but it was unfinished and much of it scratched out.

“Herald, we're going to Val Royeaux to follow a lead. Make ready within the hour,” she called out before walking out of the room to get her own things in order.

Josephine watched her go before turning back to the mage before her. “That was... rather unexpected.”

Ebrisa held the wooden figurine gently in her hands. “Was I being cruel to him? I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I didn't even stop to think... It was never my intention to drive him away.”

“Of course it wasn't, my lady.” The ambassador reached out and squeezed her knee. “You did nothing wrong and should feel no shame for pursuing your own happiness. I know Warden Blackwall took great joy from seeing you with Cullen.”

The mage looked at her sadly. “I should have seen it sooner.”

“Nonsense. Doing so would only have held you back with the commander, yes?” Josephine smiled lightly as the mage lowered her gaze. “I thought so.” She rose to her feet with a sigh. “You had best prepare for the road. I'll go see if I can get another to accompany you.”

~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the Summer Bizarre was filled with awkward silence with Hawke fuming in front and Ebrisa and Cullen trying to process what they had just learned. More than once, the mage would sigh heavily and Cullen would reach out and take hold of her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Rain began to fall as they drew near, getting heavier as they approached until the gray sky was dumping buckets over Val Royeaux. They joined the grim crowd around the gallows as the hangman began reading off the crimes of the condemned man beside him. Ebrisa took hold of Cullen's arm, knowing that when the time came, she wouldn't be able to watch. The Inquisitor had dealt out a few executions of her own in Skyhold, and each time the Herald made sure she was nowhere near the display.

When Blackwall called out to the executioner, Ebrisa looked up in surprise. Hawke shouted his name, pushing through the crowd to get closer, but the man shook his head and revealed to everyone his true name and all the punishment it entailed: Thom Rainier. A gasp rang out across the crowd and Ebrisa squeezed Cullen's arm as she stared up at their comrade in shock. The guards released the prisoner and took the false warden into custody as he hung his head in shame.

The Inquisition members stood frozen in place as the disappointed onlookers dispersed, leaving them alone before the empty gallows. Hawke was the first to recover and marched up to Cullen, filled with more questions than she started with. “We need to talk with him. Can you get us into the jail?”

The commander nodded grimly before coaxing Ebrisa into moving and leading them to the guard station. It didn't take much to convince the jailer to allow them inside but Cullen did have to assert his authority in order for them to be left alone with the prisoner. Hawke started for the stairs, but paused and looked behind her. “Herald? I think you better go see him first.”

Ebrisa looked up at Cullen, unsure, but he nodded slowly and ushered her forward. She descended the steps hesitantly and moved to the back of the the cells until she found her friend sitting hunched forward on the creaking bench. “Ser Blackwall?”

He looked up quickly, taking in her wet and confused appearance, and let out a deep sigh. “I didn't want you to see me like this, your worship. Don't know why I thought I could keep my shame hidden from you.”

“Ser Blackwall, what-?”

“That's not my name, your worship! I am not the man you thought I was!” He sprang to his feet and grabbed hold of the bars, but the mage didn't move back. “I was a soldier in the Orlesian army and I took an assignment I shouldn't have. Not because I was ordered too, but for gold.” He hung his head and shook the bars.

“What do you mean?” Ebrisa asked quietly, trying to not tear up at the the distraught man before her.

“We were close to war and I was offered a job to take out one of Celene's major supporters. The payment was good and I saw no harm in it, so I ordered my men to attack his carriage and kill everyone with him.” He hunched forward. “I thought he was traveling with retainers or officers... I didn't know it was his family. Maker, his children... I didn't know.”

The mage covered her mouth to hide her gasp of horror. The man she knew would never act against a child, never kill someone defenseless... but he didn't know. That fact had been eating him alive for... years. The Herald reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away and paced his cell. “Don't! Don't you pity me for this. Didn't you hear what I said? We killed his children!”

“You said you didn't know,” Ebrisa tried to speak through the lump in her throat. “I'm sure that if you knew, you wouldn't have-”

“When I found out, I didn't stand to face my crimes or bring to light the man who paid me, I ran. I left my men to pay for my mistakes and. I. Ran!” The man took hold of the bars again and looked desperately at the mage. “I'm not like you. In the Fade, when you thought you had done wrong, you were ready to take your punishment. You were ready to face death to correct your mistakes. I didn't, your worship. I-I couldn't.”

“Ser Blackwall, that's-”

“Warden Blackwall is dead.” He cut in. “He found me hiding and wanted to recruit me, but was killed by darkspawn before he could even send word of his intentions. I couldn't show up to a warden fortress on my own... so I took his name and tried to do right by his memory.” He pressed his head to the cold bars. “I've been lying and running long before Hawke found me, but I couldn't let another man die for my crimes, your worship. Not anymore.”

Ebrisa looked at him and was quiet for a long while before asking a single question. “What happened to my lady?”

“I can not dishonor you further by calling you that,” he sighed.

She smiled sadly. “I thought you said I would always be your lady, Ser Blackwall.”

“I've told you, I'm not-”

“You may have started out as Warden Blackwall by pretending to be a good man, acting as you thought he would, but at some point you stopped pretending.” She slipped a hand through the bars and placed it gently on his arm.

He looked at her sadly. “You can't be saying you forgive what I did.”

“I can't speak for what happened before,” the mage said slowly as she looked away. “I don't know the man you were then, and I can't judge his actions. All I know is who you are now. You throw yourself into danger everyday to protect others. You joined the Inquisition when you could have just walked away. You aren't pretending anymore. This is the person you are now.” Ebrisa removed her hand and stepped back as she raised her eyes. “And that person is my friend, Ser Blackwall.”

The man looked away, still racked with shame as the mage left. “My lady...”

“What he did to the men under his command is unacceptable.”

Ebrisa paused at the top of the stairs at Cullen's angry voice.

“There has to be more to what happened than this report is telling us.” Hawke shook her head furiously. “Maybe he thought he was protecting them by keeping the mission a secret.”

“You're not normally this naive, Inquisitor,” the commander continued in a low voice.

“You should ask him," the Herald said softly as she finally rejoined the others. “I didn't pry about... I couldn't...”

Hawke let out a deep breath. “I'm going to get this straightened out. I need to know everything.” She brushed past the mage and hurried to the cells.

Cullen folded his arms and shook his head. “I never would have connected Blackwall to Rainier. I thought we could rely on him.”

“I... I didn't really know what to say... what to ask.” Ebrisa rubbed her forehead and leaned against a table. “He looked so... miserable.”

“Good,” the commander muttered.

“Cullen.” Ebrisa looked at him in shock. “He's our friend.”

“Is he? He betrayed his men's trust, betrayed ours. He betrayed yours most of all.” Cullen looked at her briefly before turning his head away again. “I despise him for it.”

“He hid his past, yes, but that was all he did to us.” The mage moved over until Cullen had no choice but to look at her. “Though it started with a lie, hasn't he been loyal to us and our cause? He could have kept the lie going, but he didn't. He gave himself up for one of those men he betrayed.”

The commander sighed. “Saving Mornay the way he did took courage, I'll give him that.”

Hawke marched up the steps and past the pair. “Get him released to our custody. I don't care how.” She wiped her eyes quickly and cleared her throat to mask the cracking in her voice. “I won't let him hang for this. He was part of our Inquisition, and we will pass judgment.”

Chapter Text

To say the Inquisition was surprised by the revelation of their fake warden would be putting it mildly. Iron Bull was disappointed he'd been unable to pick up on the lie – his years of training in the Ben-Hassrath should have enabled him to notice, but maybe his time leading the Chargers dulled his suspicion of allies. Leliana apologized repeatedly to the Inquisitor for directing her to Blackwall in the first place. The spymaster had a blind spot for Grey Wardens due to her relationship with them during the Fifth Blight, and didn't dig as deeply into the recruiter as she normally would have. To let such a thing slip by her because of something personal... Leliana was too ashamed to meet Hawke's eyes for a few days.

With Rainier's confession being so public, it did not take long for word to spread across Orlais and Fereldan. Josephine was assaulted with letters daily from nobility, demanding reparations for the gold and men the Inquisition gained by utilizing the Grey Warden treaties early on. It put her in a bit of a spot, but Cullen was more annoyed by the demands than worried. Not only had they needed the assistance and was confident the ambassador could have persuaded the nobility to part with the aid anyways, but he was quick to point out that the Grey Wardens – real ones – were now allied with the Inquisition. Whatever authority they lacked previously, they surely had now. With the matter more or less settled, the Antivan focused her efforts on the Inquisitor's demands.

As it turned out, saving an empress can really give you great leverage in negotiations. Josephine was able to arrange Thom Rainier's transfer with little difficulty, but that was the easy part of the plan. The man they had come to know as Blackwall now stood before the Inquisitor, bound in chains and head hung low.

“I didn't think this would be easy, but this is a lot harder than I thought.” Hawke shifted awkwardly on her throne and looked around the full hall. It was a much larger turn out than her other judgments and the crowd seemed to be split between being angry, horrified, disgusted, and shocked. She knew that no matter what she did, there would be backlash. Her people were divided and there was nothing she could do to make everyone happy, but being the leader didn't mean she was there to please them. She took a deep breath and decided she might as well trust herself and let the others stew in whatever hateful emotion they chose. She'd made several decisions this way, but even though many altered the fate of nations, none seemed to weigh so heavily on her mind... or heart.

“Why didn't you leave me there?” Thom said angrily. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end.”

“Well I wasn't,” Hawke fumed. “You pledged yourself to the Inquisition. To our cause. To me...” She quietened and looked away briefly. “You don't get to leave so easily.”

His form went rigid. “So I'm an unthinking tool in your fight now?”

“No! That's not what...” The Inquisitor covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly. She was trying to help, couldn't he see that? “How do I put this?” Hawke lowered her hands and looked at the prisoner with a solemn expression. “You were ready to die, but I wasn't ready to lose you.”

He watched her curiously, trying to decipher what she was saying. “So then what does happen to me?”

“You have your freedom,” Hawke said quietly, almost too soft for the room to hear.

“It can't be that simple.”

“When is anything around here ever simple?” The Inquisitor chuckled lightly. “You're... you're a friend, and a good warrior, and this is your chance to atone for what you did. Not Rainier or Blackwall, but you, the man you are right now. The man I have come to know and...” Hawke trailed off and turned her face away, trying to hide the unconscious tinting on her cheeks. “And rely on.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Then I would like to stay and continue to serve at your side, Inquisitor. I will try to not let you down again.”

Hawke smiled softly and faced the room once again, leaning back in the throne. “See? I said you couldn't leave so easily, but I didn't say I was the one to keep you here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took some time for Skyhold to adjust to the truth of the false warden. Cassandra and Cullen held fast to their anger at the lie, unlikely to ever forgive the ruse, but remained civil with the man. The Inquisitor's decision was final and they would do nothing to further any rifts caused by it – they had to set an example and appear united behind their leader. Hawke and Ebrisa were the first to make peace with it, the Herald never referring to the man as anything but Ser Blackwall. Others quickly followed suit but Hawke, rather awkwardly, asked if she could call him Thom instead. The man agreed and jokingly asked if he could call her Deavelle, to which the Inquisitor made gagging noises before demanding to know who told him about that retched name.

“So then, Thom, did you leave any family behind in Orlais?” Hawke sat cross-legged on one of the workbenches, slicing a chunk out of an apple.

“Never had time for a private life once I joined the army,” Blackwall sighed as he turned a piece of wood over in his hands, trying to imagine the finished project.

“What about parents or siblings? Where was it you said you were from... Markham?” She popped the slice into her mouth and chewed.

“Father is still alive, though not too proud of his boy, I'd imagine. Mother's passing is what drove me from the Free Marches in the first place.” He set down the wood and leaned against the workbench beside Hawke. “I had a sister. Tiny little ball of giggles.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Had?”

“Geraldine liked animals. I swear, at times she preferred them over people.” He chuckled lightly and folded his arms. “It was the time of year for the Grand Tourney and Markham was bustling. Geraldine was chasing a cat, and when it went out into the road... the wagon just came out of nowhere, and...” Blackwall shook his head and sighed heavily.

“I lost my little brother trying to escape the Blight,” Hawke said quietly. “Carver was always trying to stand out, saying I cast too big of a shadow. When that ogre came charging at Mother... he gave his life to protect her. It all happened so fast...” She shook her head and smiled awkwardly. “But I still have Bethany.”

“Your sister seems a handful.” He smirked slightly. “I often wonder what kind of woman Geraldine would have grown up to be. If having her around would have stopped me from making so many mistakes,” Blackwall mused. “I see her in my lady sometimes, when she's happy. She has the same twinkle in her eyes when she smiles.”

Hawke stared at him. “Is that... is that why you care for her?”

He hummed in thought. “I suppose that's part of it.”

“So your love, its... not romantic?”

“Did I ever say it was?” Blackwall turned to her and watched curiously as she covered her face and bent over her legs.

“Andraste's blazing tits, I am so stupid! I thought- ugh!” Hawke sat up straight, eyes wide. “I gotta go explain this.” She scrambled off the bench and rushed out of the workshop, but quickly circled back. Hawke grabbed hold of Blackwall's coat with one hand and pulled him into a brief kiss on the lips before running off again. “I'm sorry I'm stupid! I'll explain later!” She called behind her as she dashed up the stairs. Blackwall stood in place, blushing and blinking. He couldn't manage much else.

Hawke burst into Ebrisa's room excitedly. “Herald! He isn't in love with you!” She faltered a little as the mage turned to her from the bed, Cullen laying down with his head on a pillow in her lap.

The commander frowned slightly as the Herald continued to massage his headache away. “Yes I am...”

Ebrisa blushed. “He's very forthcoming when I do this.”

“I can see that...” Hawke mumbled, blushing slightly herself at the couple. Did they even know how that looked? The Inquisitor coughed. “I didn't mean you, Curly. I'm talking about Blackwall.”

“He isn't? He told you?” The mage sounded pleased.

“Good. I didn't want to punch him...” Cullen mumbled.

“Really now?” Ebrisa raised a brow.

“Maybe a little punching.”

“Yes yes, punch punch.” Hawke waved her hand around. “Do you ever do anything else? That was rhetorical, don't actually answer.” She tried to ignore the man on the bed and turned her attention back to the mage. “He basically said you're like his sister! Isn't that great? No more awkwardness!”

“That is a relief,” Ebrisa sighed. “Though, if you pardon my saying, you seem to be much more excited with the news than I am.” She smirked slightly.

The Inquisitor folded her arms defensively. “I don't recall you smirking before. You have definitely been spending too much time with the commander.”

“Not enough time,” Cullen argued.

Ebrisa giggled. “I'm inclined to agree with him.”

“Ugh, get a room.” Hawke rolled her eyes.

“We did,” he muttered.

“Inquisitor, these are my quarters.” The mage motioned around with her head.

“Oh yeah...” Hawke shifted awkwardly. “I'll just leave you to... whatever it is you're doing.” She backed away stiffly, arms still folded, until she exited and closed the door. Perhaps Varric or Leliana could do something with this information on Cullen's apparent weakness. Though, it did seem unlikely he would allow anyone else to touch him the way the Herald did.

~~~~~~
When she first tried reading the book Cassandra recommended, Ebrisa could only get half a chapter in before realizing she was not prepared. She decided to go back to her first plan and read Varric's tales chronologically and made it all the way through The Dasher's Men and Darktown Deals fairly quickly, but hesitated in picking up The Viper's Nest next. Though she was new to fiction and had only been exposed to literary romances in children's tales and historical texts – neither of which went into as much... detail as Varric's book – Ebrisa couldn't resist the urge to pick up Swords and Shields and try again.

She had to take breaks often and step onto the battlements to let the frigid air cool her face, but after getting past the first hurdle of awkwardness, Ebrisa found herself enthralled. Admittedly, she still glanced over the more erotic portions – unable to let her mind linger in those scenarios – but the rest of the story kept her full attention. More than once Cole would come by to talk with her and find the mage completely entranced by the false world within the pages. He recognized both the book and the expression as things he'd seen from Cassandra and mumbled slightly that at least the Seeker would read out loud to him.

When Ebrisa reached the end of the book, she went to the shelf to grab the next volume, only to be devastated to find there wasn't one. Thinking that perhaps the book hadn't been shipped with the rest, she went to find Varric to see if he could speak with his publisher again. It had already gotten dark outside and the mage realized she'd read through supper... again. At least now she knew where to locate the author.

The tavern was its usual noisy bustling with Maryden singing by the stairs and patrons laughing over eachother. Varric sat with the Chargers, taking notes as the mercenaries relayed some of their more entertaining missions. “You guys sure don't hold back,” Varric chuckled.

“Well the mission was to stop the bandits. No one said anything about making sure the bridge was still standing after.” Rocky grinned widely.

“I'm sure they thought more carefully about the terms of their next contract.” Varric flipped to a new page and prepared to start writing again.

“Master Varric, may I have a word with you?” Ebrisa timidly tapped him on the shoulder, holding something behind her back. She glanced around the group and blushed slightly. “A-alone?”

“Well now I'm just curious,” he stood up and lead the mage around the corner. “So, what's up?”

Ebrisa held out the book she'd been hiding. “Is... is there more? I didn't see the next volume, so I thought perhaps it was misplaced.”

“Oh, Sunshine. I don't know if I should be proud or disappointed,” Varric sighed. “This bit of smut is my worst serial. Its terrible writing and that last book there barely paid for the ink. No point in finishing it.”

“So this... this is the last installment? But it didn't finish! It stopped in the middle of something very important!”

“That's called a cliffhanger, Sunshine. A literary trick to make people want to read more.”

Ebrisa's face scrunched up in a pout. “That's rather cruel of you to leave it there when you have no intention of writing another volume...”

Varric raised a brow. “Oh? I didn't realize you had become so invested. If you're just looking for intimacy tips, I could point you to some Antivan works of erotic fiction.”

The mage's face lit up instantly. “No! That's not – I'm not – I glance over those bits!” She held the book tightly to her chest and took a deep breath. “Its the characters, Master Varric. Their positions making it difficult to be together, being filled with the notion their feelings are wrong, constantly torn apart by duty...” She lowered her eyes. “I... I can relate.”

He took a moment to let the parallels sink in. “If I write the next part for you, you got to do something for me.”

“Yes, of course!” Ebrisa's face lit up instantly. “What is it?”

“Give me a second, Sunshine. I'll be right back,” Varric held up a finger and walked over to Maryden just as she completed a song. He spoke with the bard for a bit, the woman looking up a few times before nodding with a grin. Varric motioned the mage over, Ebrisa feeling a little weary. “So here is my condition,” Varric began. “You need to spend the rest of the night singing with Maryden.”

“Pardon?” Ebrisa felt her face heat again. “In- in front of everyone?”

“You can close your eyes, your worship,” Maryden suggested. “Just focus on the music and block out everything else.”

The mage hesitated and looked around the room, eyes falling on Cassandra sitting by herself in the corner. It occurred to her that if this was the Seeker's favorite serial, then surely she was eager to find out what happened to the knight-captain as well. Ebrisa tightened her grip on the book and nodded. “Mistress Maryden, would you mind terribly if I took the harmony? I know how difficult it can be to play and sing at once and I wouldn't want to overburden you.”

“Oh, you...” Maryden blinked in surprise a few times. “Of course not, your worship. What shall we begin with?”

“Just do as you would normally, good lady,” Ebrisa smiled softly and turned to face the room. “I'll try my best to keep up.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa stifled a yawn as she walked into the main hall from the rotunda. She had nearly fallen asleep studying with Solas and was horrified by that fact. He was usually an enthusiastic teacher, but tonight he'd handed her tomes on Fade manipulation theory to read while he worked on the fresco and she found the dense text and quiet room too much to handle. The elf laughed quietly as she drooped her head repeatedly, but when she teetered to the side and almost fell off his couch he decided she'd had enough for one night. She was beyond embarrassed and apologize emphatically, but Solas only chuckled and sent her on her way.

“Oh, perfect timing!” Varric grinned widely at her approached. “We were just about to start.”

“Start what?” The mage rubbed at her eyes.

“Something that will keep you up for a while. Come on.” The dwarf lead her to the tavern, commandeered for the night by the Inquisitor's group. “Found another one! Deal her in, Ruffles.” Ebrisa looked around as the the full table made room and she fidgeted. Varric noticed her hesitation and smirked. “This game will go a lot better than the last time you tried to join in. There's no Bethany here to make you jealous.”

“Is that why you ran off?” Iron Bull grinned as he set down the last of the filled mugs.

The Herald blushed furiously and tried to hide her face from the table. “Master Varric!”

“Oh, sorry, is that still a sore memory?” He scratched his head awkwardly. “You got Curly in the end, so I figured you were over it.”

“Just... just stop talking,” the mage mumbled as she pulled a chair over to the cleared space by Cullen, trying to avoid his gaze until her cheeks calmed.

“Yes, good luck with that request,” Cassandra chuckled. “I don't think Varric knows how to stop talking.”

“You seem to have enough people. I have a thousand things to do.” The commander stood to leave, suddenly feeling awkward about that last game, but Ebrisa caught his arm lightly. She looked up at him pleadingly through her lashes, face still slightly flushed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sat back down.

“You've got him trained well, Herald. Got any tips?” Dorian laughed loudly. Ebrisa turned to him, trying to frown in disapproval, but her lingering embarrassment morphed it into a pout instead. Dorian laughed again, picking up his cards. “Alright, that face would get me too.”

“I thought we were here to play Wicked Grace, not tease the love birds.” Hawke studied her cards before glancing across the table with a smirk. “Both sound equally fun.”

“Cards, Hawke. We are playing cards,” Blackwall chuckled.

“Let's see, dealer starts...” Josephine said quietly as she tapped her fingers on her coins. “I... believe.. I'll start at... three coppers! Do you think that's too daring?” The ambassador tilted her head as she considered the bet. “Maybe I'll make it one... no! Boldness! Three it is!” She smiled brightly and tossed the coins in.

Iron Bull smacked the table. “Seriously? Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home.”

The table agreed, matching the qunari's bet. “Well, Sunshine, are you in?” Varric grinned at the woman beside him.

She frowned slightly, uncertain. “Just remember I'm still new to this game. I've only played with Cullen,” she mumbled before adding her coin to the pile.

“Don't worry, little lady.” Bull grinned deviously. “There's still plenty of things you'll only do with Cullen.”

The table erupted into laughter as the Herald and commander blushed simultaneously. “Cards,” Cullen grumbled. “We agreed to be playing cards.”

They began to take turns telling stories as they played and Ebrisa couldn't help but feel like an outsider as the others drank and laughed loudly. “Something the matter with your ale? Not refined enough for your ladyship?” Hawke raised a brow before downing the last of her own mug.

“The Herald doesn't drink, Inquisitor.” Josephine smiled. “But she did try some brandy at the Winter Palace to amusing results.”

“When a member of the Orlesian royal family offers you a drink, you take it!” Ebrisa defended quickly. “The Grand Duke was going through bottles so quickly, I didn't think it would be so strong.”

“You can't play cards without drinking,” Varric chuckled and pushed her mug closer. “Come on, just a sip. If you don't like it, don't finish it.”

The Herald looked around the table, finding them watching her expectantly. Slowly, she picked up the mug and drank a small amount. She pulled a face as she swallowed and shook her head. “Its like a mouthful of yeast. How are you all drinking this?”

“So that would be a no on the ale?” Hawke reached forward and claimed the mug for herself.

“This is unacceptable,” Dorian huffed and stood up. “There must be something here you'll enjoy. Bull, give me a hand at the bar. And don't try to sneak in any of your qunari swill.”

They poured small amounts from various bottles and casks, arguing quietly with each other as they arranged the cups on a tray. Bull sat back in his seat with a thud, grumbling about inferior Tevinter tastes as Dorian set the odd assortment of cups before the Herald. “Go on then, dear. A sample platter of alcohol just for you.”

“This is... a lot.” Ebrisa looked at the tray with more than a little trepidation.

“Its far less than the rest of us have already had,” Varric offered. “Don't you want to be prepared for the next fancy party we crash?”

She shifted in her seat and sipped the first cup. She tasted honey, but still the overwhelming fermented grain flavor and shook her head. Ebrisa worked her way slowly through the cups, the game halted as everyone watched her humorous reactions. She coughed and gagged and pulled faces, all the while wondering why people subjugated themselves to these sorts of drinks willingly. She paused before the last cup, feeling a bit strange, but picked it up and drank it nonetheless. It was sweet, very sweet, and had only mild notes of sour to balance it. This was really alcohol? Ebrisa looked around and took another sip of the dark liquid.

“A winner at last.” Dorian grinned widely as the table clapped. He removed the tray and returned with a full sized glass for the Herald. “Now then, who else had a story?”

“Bull's got to have something good hiding up his sleeves.” Hawke gave the mercenary a sly grin as she drew a card.

“No sleeves, Boss, but plenty of stories.” The qunari adjusted in his chair and began to tell them about one of the Chargers' missions. The hand ended just as he finished. “And then Dalish says I told you, its a bow!”

Cassandra burst into a fit of laughter, slapping Dorian on the back.

“Ouch! I wasn't even part of that story.” The Tevinter leaned away for safety. “Why don't you go punch a tree or something instead of hitting poor, fragile me?”

Ebrisa giggled into her glass.

“What about you, my lady?” Blackwall asked. “You must have a story or two.”

“Um, lets see,” she mumbled quietly, trying to think. “There was the time Aurelia made Emery wear one of her dresses and put mother's makeup on him.”

“Ah, tormenting the younger siblings. Classic.” Hawke sighed wistfully. “So, what happened?”

“Aurelia made Emery wear one of her dresses and put Mother's make up on him,” Ebrisa repeated, feeling very warm. “A maid came and fetched Mother and I could hear her yelling at them through the door.”

“You didn't go take a peek?” Varric stared at her incredulously. “I'm going to go out on a limb and say it never happened again.”

“Oh, I wanted to see, but I was in the study.” The Herald frowned slightly and furrowed her brow. “I was eight, so by then Mother was already keeping me locked up most of the day.” She sipped the last of her drink and sighed. “Sprouting mage and all.”

The table fell quiet as they looked at her.

Iron Bull was the first to break the silence.“Your mom's a bitch.”

Ebrisa tried to cover her mouth, but ended up laughing loudly into her hands instead. “You might be right!”

The group fell back into their merriment as Josephine inspected the cards. “And the dealer takes everything! I win again.” She smirked and pulled the coins closer to herself.

“Deal again.” Cullen leaned forward, leveling an eye at the Antivan. “I've figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

“Commander!” Josephine gasped in feigned surprise. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

“Don't know about that,” Varric chuckled. “Sunshine is pretty easy to read.”

“I can't help it if I have an expressive face,” she pouted angrily at the dwarf, sending the end of the table into a fit of laughter.

“I want another chance to win my dignity back.” Hawke grinned. “Deal me in, and try to remember that I am your boss.”

The three played seriously as the rest of the table laughed and told jokes. Dorian refilled the Herald's glass, leaving the bottle on the table for her. Ebrisa turned her body away from Cullen as he played so she wouldn't see his cards or give away anything - she'd feel bad if he lost because of her poor control over her expressions. Hawke dropped out after a while, the game getting too intense and the stakes a little too high, but Cullen was determined and Josephine had coin to spare.

“Well you seem to be all out of money to lose, Commander.” Josephine sighed as she raised the bet. “How confident are you in your victory? I may allow something else onto the table in place of coin.”

“Exceedingly.” Cullen smirked. “What would suffice?”

The ambassador grinned wickedly and darted her eyes around the table. “Your clothes.” The group hooted and cheered as Cullen set his jaw and began to unfasten his armor.

Ebrisa turned around quickly to stop him. “No! They can't see.” She whispered harshly, eyes wide.

The commander regarded her curiously. “I don't have anything left to bet. I have to meet her's if I'm going to call.”

She was quiet for a moment as she thought before climbing onto the table and knocking over her empty glass. “Me! He bets me.”

Cullen made a grab for her. “I do not!”

“It's okay,” the mage whispered loudly behind her hand, twisting on a wobbly arm to face him. “You can steal me back later.” She turned to Josephine, rising to her knees in the center of the table and trying to look determined. “He calls.”

“Oh my, that's quite the bet, Commander.” Josephine grinned widely as the table burst into laughter.

“Stop it! Get down!” Cullen jumped to his feet and grabbed Ebrisa around the waist, pulling her squirming from the table. “Dorian, what did you give her?”

“Let's see here,” the Tevinter said through his laughter as he picked up the bottle. “Antivan sweet sherry.”

Josephine winced. “And what vineyard?”

Dorian scoured the label further. “Jouvass.”

“Oh dear. And she had... how much?”

The Tevinter shook the empty bottle. “I suppose I should have watched more carefully...”

“I was thirsty!” Ebrisa defended as she tried to break free.

Cullen pulled her further back and readjusted his grip to pick her up bridal style. She squealed with delight and snuggled against him as he held her in his arms. He sighed heavily and walked out the door. “Game's over. I'm putting her to bed.”

Josephine shook her head and set down her cards. “I don't envy the morning the Herald will have. Jouvass vineyard thinks of hangovers as a badge of honor.”

“We'll have to push back the Hissing Wastes a few days then, I think.” Hawke smirked.

Blackwall leaned over and studied Cullen's abandoned hand. “No one tell the commander, but looks like he would have had this one.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen set Ebrisa down carefully on her bed and began to untie her dress, knowing she couldn't sleep in it. “Can we go back to you not liking alcohol? I'll forget this if you will.”

“It was sweet. I only liked it because it was sweet,” she mumbled as he finished with her lacing and slipped the garment over her head. He went to her wardrobes and wasn't sure where to set the dirty piece of clothing, so he laid it on top of her dresser. When Cullen turned back around, Ebrisa had already removed her chemise and was tossing it to the floor. He stared at her as she mewled and stretched above her head, arching her back in only her small clothes and silver amulet. She noticed his staring and smiled lovingly at him.

Cullen blushed and turned away, trying to reign in his body's urges. He should go. She was safely in her room and would sleep it off and not remember anything in the morning. He stiffened as he felt her hands drift up his arm and work the buckles of his armor. “What – what are you doing?”

“Its in the way. It's always in the way,” she huffed in frustration. The pauldron fell to the floor with a clang and she set about detaching another piece, her fingers surprisingly dexterous given her current condition. “I've been reading these books and they put ideas in my head, but I'm not ready for those ideas yet...” Ebrisa looked up at him, face flushed and lips parted. “I just want to feel you, not armor.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled her hands away. “You shouldn't be touching me right now. You... you aren't thinking clearly.”

The mage tilted her head and pouted. “But I always want to touch you...”

“You just can't right now!” Cullen moved away from her and kept his gaze to the side. “Go to sleep, alright?”

“You're mad at me,” Ebrisa said in a shaky voice. “I wasn't really going to go with Josephine if she won. I was going to run away when she wasn't looking.” Cullen sighed and shook his head before turning to look at the mage. “I'm sorry...” Ebrisa whimpered as tears rolled down her face. “Don't punish me. I was trying to help.”

He felt a stab of guilt twist in his chest as the mage cried in front of him. Of course she didn't understand. Even if she wasn't drunk, he was being far too vague with his reasoning. Against his better judgment, Cullen removed the rest of his armor and pulled the crying woman to him, quietening her. “I'm not mad, but don't go betting yourself again.”

“I won't,” she instantly agreed and nuzzled against his shirt. “I'm yours only.”

The commander held her closer, his heart swelling at her words. “Yes you are,” he mumbled against her hair before kissing her head. She hummed approvingly and slid her hands up and down his back, enjoying being able to feel the heat of his body instead of hard metal. Cullen shivered as her body moved against him and he remembered why he had pulled her off in the first place, but couldn't resist touching her at least a little. He trailed his fingertips down her side to her hip, and then gently up her spine, feeling goosebumps rise in his wake and hearing her shuddering breath. He wanted more. He needed more. Maker, this is why he stopped before.

Ebrisa slipped her hands up his chest and took hold of his face, gently pulling him down into a slow, sensual kiss, which he eagerly returned. She moaned softly and pressed herself against him, trailing her tongue lightly across his lips. He could taste the sherry on her and pulled away, resting his forehead against hers and sighing heavily as he collected himself. Cullen scooped her up once again and laid her down on the bed. She looked up at him, panting and fingers on her lips and he took another deep breath before pulling the covers up and tucking her in.

He tried to leave, but Ebrisa caught his hand. “Stay with me?” She asked. Cullen stiffened. His self-control was already at its limit - he couldn't possibly trust himself to stay any longer. “I don't want to be alone...”

The commander gently removed her hand and took in her sad and pleading expression. He was going to regret this. Cullen walked to the other side of the bed and climbed on top of the blankets, laying on his side behind her. He draped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Now go to sleep.”

She giggled softly and wiggled into a better position against him. “Yes, Commander.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa groaned and rolled over in the bed, hiding beneath a pillow. Her head throbbed and the normally calming noises from the stables were like hammers in her brain. She slowly slipped out from the covers and paused. Why wasn't she wearing a nightdress? She quickly slipped on clean clothes and washed her face, wincing at her messy appearance in the vanity mirror. She hadn't taken her hair down either? The mage sat and removed the pins and ribbons from her hair, slipping the braids loose and trying to detangle some of the knots with her fingers. She reached for her brush and found a cup of water with a short note directing her to drink it.

The mage sipped the water slowly as she brushed out her frizzy hair. It was going to be extremely difficult to manage today and she lacked the focus to do anything elaborate to hide the mess effectively, so she sighed heavily and pulled it back into a ponytail before braiding the length in one, poofy plait. Ebrisa stood up and headed for the door, wobbling as the room moved around her, forcing the mage to rest on the other side of her bed and hold her pounding head. She looked up slowly and found another cup of water on her side table with another note. There were others stationed around the room as well and she smiled lightly before drinking the liquid. Someone was looking out for her, and she had a pretty good idea who that was.

Ebrisa made her way awkwardly to Cullen's office, blocking the bright sun with one hand as she held out the other to the wall to catch herself as she tipped. She knocked on his door, wincing at the loudness as Cullen called out a disinterested invitation. When the mage walked in, still shielding her eyes, his attitude instantly changed.

“Oh, um, hello.” He awkwardly lead her to a chair and pressed another glass of water into her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my head's been trampled and the ground is a boat...” she mumbled. “How much water are you going to give me?”

“Well, I wasn't sure if you saw the others.” Cullen rubbed his neck and went back to his desk.

Ebrisa sipped from the offered cup slowly, feeling a bit queasy. “Cullen? What's going on?”

“Its called a hangover. Congratulations, you're now a full fledged adult.” He smirked lightly and leaned against his desk.

“What? That can't be right... I don't drink.” She stared at the water and tried to recall the night before.

“You didn't,” Cullen corrected. “Dorian managed to find something you really, really liked during Wicked Grace.”

Ebrisa furrowed her brow, her memory still foggy. “I remember a little bit of playing. There were stories... I wasn't very good at either.”

The center door flung open and Hawke walked in with a newly arrived report in her hand. “Did you know there are still some templars hold up in a Circle? Tiny place in the Free Marches, so maybe they missed the memo, but I think we can-” She stopped short and snorted at the mage. “Oh. Good barely-morning there, your worship. How's the hangover?”

“I'm not a fan of it, Inquisitor,” Ebrisa groaned, leaning away from the loud fighter.

“Are you going to be staying off tables today?” Hawke folded her arms.

Ebrisa fumbled with the cup, refusing to drop it, and set it down. “What?”

“You, my lady, are a delightful drunk.” Hawke grinned widely. “Tell ya what, I'll go whip up an old family cure for you. Be right back.” She hurried off to the kitchens, musing aloud if Solas' paint could substitute for the kaddis.

“That doesn't sound particularly appetizing...” Cullen mumbled.

“What did I do?” Ebrisa looked up at the commander, embarrassed and terrified. She gasped suddenly and covered her mouth with one hand. “I wasn't dressed this morning! Did- did I climb on the table and take off my clothes in front of everyone?”

“No, no!” He quickly tried to explain. “You were fully dressed on the table and you didn't strip until I got you to your room.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “I... I really did that? In front of you?”

“You did...” Cullen said slowly, preparing for her to panic or try to hide.

Ebrisa balled her hands in her skirt to prevent herself from crying. “I don't remember. Your first time seeing me like that should have been a special moment... but I don't remember any of it. What else did I do? What other things between us are lost to stupidity?”

Cullen knelt down in front of her and unclenched her fingers to hold her hands in his. “You only wanted to be held.”

“But I was...”

“Still in your small clothes, and wrapped up in your blankets, and I was still dressed.” Cullen squeezed her hands and smiled softly at her. “Nothing happened. You have my word.”

Ebrisa let out a deep breath and leaned forward until she was eye level with the commander. “I was a handful, wasn't I?”

“Oh yes,” he chuckled. “You were very insistent that I bet you for the final hand instead of my clothing, as Josephine suggested.”

“She what?” Ebrisa bristled in anger. “How dare she suggest such a thing!”

“You aren't surprised that you climbed onto the table in lieu of coin?” Cullen raised a brow.

“If it kept the others from seeing you undressed, I'm not surprised at all.” She blushed and looked away briefly. “I... I reserve that right. For later.”

Cullen blinked in surprise with his own slight blush, then smirked. “I'll remember that for future games.” He leaned forward and closed the distance between them, kissing her softly on the lips.

“Alright, here we go.” Hawke walked back into the office with a glass of sickly colored liquid. “Now to get it to work, you gotta chug the whole thing at once. Don't worry about the bubbling, it does that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~

Though the Western Approach was filled with sulfuric stretches of burning, ruined land from the Second Blight, the Hissing Wastes was somehow hotter. Scout Harding found virtually nothing of note besides the Venatori presence and the realization that the only time to traverse the desert safely was at night when the temperature dropped to the other side of the spectrum. The dwarf joked about just letting the Tevinter cultists keep whatever was there, and Hawke had to admit it was tempting.

Up until now, Corypheus had been searching elven ruins looking for who knows what, but the only ruins this sandy wasteland had to offer were dwarven. They were above ground and strange, but didn't seem to fit the crazed ancient magister's agenda. Still, where there were Venatori, there was killing to do and Hawke lead Cassandra, Sera, and Dorian across the sand to wipe out the enemy and free their caged slaves. Iron Bull and Ebrisa followed after them, the qunari a little slow going up the dunes from his sheer weight alone.

The numerous rifts in the area had been open for some time, the power of the Fade seeping out and crystallizing the sand into eerily beautiful green pillars. Ebrisa was concerned with how the energy would have effected the region if they hadn't come and was sure to take a sample of the crystal to show Solas. In a way, they owed the Venatori for bringing them out there.

Now they were back in Skyhold and shaking sand out of... everywhere - Ebrisa had to take three baths before she could no longer feel the grittiness in her hair. Hawke had very little to report on and the majority of the war room meeting was actually spent on updates from various missions held elsewhere.

“As per your instruction, we persuaded the city officials to assist with the relief effort and Knight-Commander Brycen has agreed to leave the Hasmal Circle and join the other templars already with us.” Josephine smiled, pleased to have another wave of allies.

“He's sending a small unit ahead of the rest to assist with the transition,” Cullen added. “We've received a few of the officers' service records. They seem to be a good group of men.”

~~~~~~~~~

“This place is nothing like the Circle,” one of the new templars said quietly at they passed through the gates.

“That's a given, Hamen.” Another with red hair smirked. “What I want to know is if the others will hold any grudges against us for not following the Lord Seeker and avoiding that whole mess.”

“Demons, tainted lyrium, watching your fellows slain... Our brothers have every right to be bitter, if they choose to be.” The Knight-Captain frowned and looked around. “We must be early. I see no one to give us orders.”

“Shall I go find a guardsman and report in?” The youngest asked.

“Yes, Tybalt, that would...” The officer paused as he stared down the yard. “It can't be... Its her.”

“Knight-Captain Derrick?” The redhead followed the other's gaze to a blonde woman exiting the stables.

The captain removed his helmet to get a better look. “You all remember what I told you of my former Circle? That's her!” Derrick tensed and withdrew his sword. “How did she sneak her way here? We must put an end to this before she defiles the Inquisition as well.” He marched forward, his men following closely behind.

Ebrisa was glad to see the mounts had been properly freed of sand and was on her way to the main hall. Varric had amended their original agreement for finishing that terrible and wonderful book, now stipulating she needed to provide music when he hit a writer’s block. The dwarf wasn't picky about what she played or sang, only requiring that she perform as needed. He was really milking this deal.

The mage tilted her head slightly when she noticed an entire squad of fully armored templars marching across the yard towards her. She couldn't see much of their faces, save the one in the center who seemed oddly new, yet familiar. The man reared back his sword and Ebrisa's eyes widened in recognition of both him and his intention. She glanced behind her at the stables and ran to put as much distance between herself and the building as possible before-

The Knight-Captain plunged his blade into the cold dirt and let loose a hatred fueled cleansing, knocking Ebrisa over in mid run and sending her to the ground noisily. “Ser Derrick...” she wheezed.

“It's Knight-Captain now, Bree, and you die today!” The officer shouted angrily. Fire erupted from the mage's form, flaring out in a small protective ring, seemingly gauging the situation before expanding wider and burning the grass in its path. “Hit her again! Suppress the demon before it fully emerges!”

The other templars followed orders one after the other and cleansed the mage, her body jerking each time as they struck her in turn. The fire rose up angrily, but dwindling slowly, diminishing with the repeated hits of suppression.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” Dennet shouted angrily and tackled one of the templars, knocking his helmet off and breaking his concentration.

“She's a dangerous maleficar. Our Knight-Captain told us about-” the red-haired man began.

“That's the Herald of Andraste, you daft boy!” Dennet growled.

The templar looked at the crumpled mage on the ground in horror as the fire flickered into nothing and saw her marked hand sparking for the first time. “Stop...” He got up numbly before rushing to his brothers and shaking them. “Stop! He's mistaken! That's the Herald! That's-”

“Ebrisa!” Cullen rushed forward from the stairs. “Templars, stand down! Stand down, damn it!” The new arrivals did as instructed, unsure of who the man was, but clearly aware of the air of authority he carried. He dropped to Ebrisa's side in the charred grass and rolled her onto her back, shaking her shoulder. “Ebrisa? Are you alright?” The mage stared off into the sky with vacant eyes, before slowly closing them. “Can you hear me? Ebrisa!”

“We need to end her before the demon comes back.” Derrick pushed himself up and removed his sword. “Stand aside, ser. You are in the way of a templar's duty.”

Cullen rose to his feet angrily and punched the man solidly across the face, sending the templar swiftly back to the ground. “I am Commander Cullen of the Inquisition and never in my ten years of service to the Templar Order has such a show of force on a single mage been justified. Especially not on her!” He looked around the yard and called out orders. “Gabell! Devin! Put this man in a cell. Linnet! Get the healers!”

As the two soldiers dragged Derrick away, he struggled and shouted angrily. “It's Bree! It's her! Maleficar! Abomination! It's Bree!”

Cullen turned back to Ebrisa and knelt at her side, unsure what to do. When her magic was ripped from her in Haven, she was winded and in pain, but she could move and talk. This was... he didn't even know.

“Is she going to be alright?” The red-haired templar approached awkwardly.

“How many times did you hit her?” The commander looked up at him coldly.

“I... I don't know. Maker... I didn't recognize her. It was so long ago, how could I?” The templar knelt down and lightly touched the mage's pale face. “Even when she was still home, Mother rarely let us see her...”

Cullen looked the man over more closely, studying his features and bright green eyes. “You're...?”

“Ser Emery.” The templar looked at Cullen, face full of concern and regret. “My name is Emery.”

Chapter Text

“We've never seen this before, Inquisitor.” The head mage healer sighed. “Even after the Circles fell and fear was driving so many mad, templars never wasted so much energy on a single target. If not for the mark keeping her linked to the Fade, the Herald may very well have become tranquil... if not worse.”

“But she's not?” Hawke twisted the ends of her hair worriedly. “She's still... her, right?”

“It is... hard to say.” The healer rubbed his eyes. “As far as we can tell, she is sleeping. We've tried everything we can think of to wake her, even for a moment, but the normal methods just aren't working.”

“But, physically, is she okay?” The Inquisitor needed some good news.

“Her breathing is even and heart beats steadily.” The man nodded.

“At least there's that...” She sighed and walked back into Ebrisa's packed room. Horror and panic quickly spread through Skyhold after the Herald was attacked and the Hasmal templars were all locked up, mostly for their protection from the rest of the hold. All except one.

“Lord Trevelyan, what did your Knight-Captain tell you?” Josephine frowned, still trying to wrap her head around the whole affair.

“Please, though I have failed it, I am a member of the Templar Order.” The red haired man said as he raised a hand. “Ser Emery is fine.”

“Of course...” The ambassador nodded.

“Knight-Captain Derrick told us terrible stories about an abomination from his old Circle. She seduced and killed several templars.” He shook his head. “I thought the whole thing was just a cautionary tale to make us keep the appropriate distance from our charges. Don't get too familiar with that mage. She could be another Bree.” Emery laughed bitterly at himself.

“That's obviously not what really happened,” Vivienne scoffed. “The years must have twisted his memory. Perhaps I can find something in my correspondence with Lydia...” The enchanter wondered to herself as she briskly left the room.

“But something did happen,” Blackwall said slowly. “I remember it clearly when we were in the Fade – she spoke of past sins in the Circle.”

“You can't seriously be siding with that brute on this,” Dorian huffed. “She could never just murder, let alone seduce, templars.”

“I didn't say it happened the way the blighter said it did, I said something happened!” Blackwall snapped back.

“Herald thought she did wrong...” Sera mumbled as she looked at the unconscious mage laying on the bed. “Fade was plenty weird on its own, but Herald scared of herself was the weirdest.”

Cullen sat on the edge of the vanity bench by the bed, gripping Ebrisa's right hand in both of his and holding it to his forehead as he leaned forward. He should have instructed the men at the gate to direct the templars to the main hall when they arrived or stationed Barris to await them. He should have been more prepared for their arrival, especially since he knew the Knight-Captain had been transferred out of Ostwick. He hadn't even questioned the transfer...

“So they're saying they can't really do anything right now,” Hawke sighed and folded her arms. “Her body is fine, but the rest of her is... uncertain.”

“She's screaming.”

The full room looked up at Cole as he sat on the rafter beam and hugged his legs.

“Scared of them. Scared of her. Maker, what did I do?” He shivered and shook his head in confusion. “Why can I hear her now? The hurt's so loud...”

“Kid?” Varric called up curiously. “What's going on with Sunshine?”

“She's stuck. Scared, scarred, scorched. Over and over. The woman is trying to help, but can't get through.” Cole tapped his fingers on the beam. “Fear too strong. Despair too strong. She can't leave. So much pain...”

“The Herald normally has strong mental barriers protecting her when she sleeps. If the templars removed those during their assault, she is vulnerable to forces she has never dealt with before.” Solas straightened and frowned slightly. “She admitted to me once that she never partook in the Harrowing.”

“At her age?” Emery furrowed his brow. “That's impossible...”

“Lady Trevelyan gave the First Enchanter very specific instructions to keep your sister an apprentice for as long as possible,” Josephine said reluctantly, glancing at the templar. “I am not surprised in the least.”

Leliana slipped into the room and leaned in close to Hawke, trying to be as discrete as possible. “Inquisitor. Knight-Captain Derrick says he must explain the danger we're in by keeping Bree here. He wants to speak with you.”

“Get his side of the story? How will that help us now?” Hawke scoffed, louder than intended.

“It won't change what has happened, but knowing why it happened is important,” the Orlesian quietly replied.

Cullen carefully placed Ebrisa's hand on her chest, slipping her fingers around the silver amulet. He stood up and kissed her forehead gently before moving across the room and motioning Hawke towards the door. “Let's go hear what he has to say for himself then.” Leliana and Hawke glanced at each other briefly before the three of them left the room for the cells.

As furious as he was, the commander saw a little of his old self in Derrick. The fear and anger and hatred... He had to know what had happened to turn an otherwise faithful templar to act so rashly and so harshly. Understanding the why wouldn't put Derrick in any better a position or lessen his punishment though. Not by a long shot.

The increased guards stationed around the cells all snapped to attention as the group entered. Hawke waved them at ease awkwardly and followed Leliana though the inner door to the open air section of the jail. The templar captain paced his cell, clenching and unclenching his fists as he muttered angrily to himself.

“Alright, you want to talk, so talk.” Hawke set her jaw and stared firmly at the prisoner.

“That woman, whatever she claims to be, has fooled you all,” Derrick began. “My first appointment in the Order was at Ostwick's Circle of Magi. It seemed an easy station in the beginning – the mages were well behaved and the Knight-Commander firm, but not overly strict. There was one mage they kept from the others and assigned rotating guard duty over. It seemed odd to me at first, as she didn't act out or seem overly dangerous. The templars relaxed around her more and more as she bided her time. Plotting.”

Cullen shifted beside Leliana, biting his tongue and trying to remain relatively still as the templar spoke.

“Then one day, while we were supervising her weekly bath, Tobyn told me to keep watch in the hall. For what, I don't know, but he was my senior and I did as I was told. There was screaming and laughing coming from inside and I couldn't tell who was doing which, but I stayed in the hall. I stayed until I smelled the burning flesh.” The templar looked as though he was going to be sick.

“I rushed to see that was going on, but by then it was far too late. Tobyn, Remy, Eliott... they were dead. The maleficar was laying in a crumpled heap, the demon fire still drifting off her. She was weeping, trying to trick me as she had the others, but the blood from her forbidden magic was drifting in the boiling water. The evidence of her treachery stared me in the face. Bree seduced them into removing the armor that might have saved them so she could feed the demon inside her. She cried fake tears as the shriveled corpses of my friends – my brothers – still burned around her.”

“And why didn't you attack?” Hawke asked skeptically. “Wouldn't it have been your duty to stop blood magic?”

“I was terrified!” Derrick slammed his hand against the bars. “I ran to get the Knight-Commander and by the time we returned, the First Enchanter was already cleaning up. I don't know what story Bree spun, but the First Enchanter wouldn't let us touch the blood mage... I was told to forget about it, but how could I?” He became quiet and leaned against his cell door. “They pulled me off the rotation to keep me away, but I had to find evidence of her wicked ways so the Knight-Commander could act. I told the other templars – told everyone – that she was an abomination and convinced Owin to help me test her. We began with a cleansing to subdue her, but no sooner did we rise to our feet did she attack. She killed him. The demon reached through our too weak suppression and incinerated Owin right in front of me. I was transferred not long after that, but I could never forget. I can't let it happen again...”

~~~~~~~

Solas had settled down on the floor, saying he was going to investigate the situation, and slipped into a meditative trance. Most of the room left, but Emery and Josephine stayed behind, unsure what they could possibly do to distract themselves if they did leave.

“Did you know she was almost named Beatrix?” Emery chuckled softly. “No, I suppose since she never knew, she couldn't have told you. Can you imagine? Beatrix.”

“Were your parents firm supports of the former Divine?” Josephine turned to the templar curiously, eager for whatever distraction the conversation might offer.

“No more than any other Andrastian family would be.” He shrugged. “Its a tradition on my mother's side to name the women after religious figures – that usually meant cycling through the Divines. Father thought it a bit tacky to name a child after the current Most Holy and suggested Renata instead, since it wasn't in use at the time, but Mother refused.”

“I see...” The ambassador folded her arms in thought.

“So, Beatrix it was,” Emery continued. “I had already decided to call her Bee if she was a brat. But then she came out on All Soul's Day with that shiny, golden hair and Mother's plans went right out the window. Father couldn't figure out where the blonde had come from – his side is prominently red and mother had a dark color herself. He took it as a sign and wanted to name her Andrastia, after Andraste herself, but Mother feared it too presumptuous. So they settled on Ebrisa, in honor of Andraste's faithful daughter.”

“I did not know she was born on All Soul's Day,” Josephine mused. Why did no one tell her their birthdays? “I take it she did not have many lively parties?”

“Not a one.” Emery looked his sister over sadly. “When you're born, your family is supposed to celebrate and run through the streets cheering, but on that solemn, holy day most people are remembering the death of the Maker's Bride...” He sighed and turned to the Antivan with a small smile. “But at least she wasn't named Beatrix.”

“If you forgive me for prying,” Josephine began slowly. “You said Renata was not currently in use. When did your Mother's side last have one?”

“My mother had a sister who died at a young age.” The templar crossed his arms and leaned against a wardrobe. “Mother only spoke of her once or twice, almost as if by accident. When I would ask her outright, she'd say nothing. The loss must still be too painful for her. I can understand her not wanting a child running around with the same name.”

Josephine hummed softly. From what the Herald said, Lady Trevelyan believed Renata to still be alive. Had she lied about her sister as she did her daughter?

Solas sat up straight suddenly, panting with exhaustion. “I can't even get close like this. It is unlike her dream before...”

“So you're saying we can't help her?” Josephine glanced worriedly at the sleeping mage.

“I don't pretend to know what you were doing, Master elf, but doesn't the Inquisition have enough mages and lyrium to project someone into the Fade? Like for Harrowings?”

“We have more than enough resources to do that,” Josephine answered for him. “Would you be able to get through if others went with you, Master Solas?”

The elf was quiet for a moment. “I believe so. But entering by the traditional means would leave us at the mercy of the Herald's dream. We would have no control over it and that will make it harder to reach through to her.”

“I will begin arranging the senior mages and lyrium supplies.” The Antivan nodded before dashing out the door, leaving the men alone.

“A question,” Solas said suddenly, startling the templar. “The Herald's upbringing filled her with a fear of magic, and thus herself. Do you not resent having a mage as a sister?”

Emery rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I heard tales of evil mages like ghost stories growing up, but when I joined the templars and actually met real mages I realized they were just... people. There was no demon spewing them out into the world as I used to imagine as a boy or droves of maleficarum behind every closed door.” He smirked at the elf. “Now hearing that the Herald of Andraste was a Trevelyan took some getting used to. Finding out she was my little sister had my head reeling. Realizing she was a mage was the least of my concerns by then.”

~~~~~~~~~

“You can't all go,” the enchanter sighed heavily in the main hall. They needed the space to set glyphs and wards and Cullen ended up carefully carrying Ebrisa over as well. “Besides the effort and lyrium it would take on our side, the strain of having so many invade her dream would most likely be too much for the Lady Herald to bare.”

Iron Bull and Sera were the first to withdraw, the idea of facing demons in the Fade not being a pleasant one for them. “Solas should obviously go,” Hawke mumbled as she tried to figure out the team. “Another mage would be good, so Dorian, I guess.”

“I think I deserve a bit more reasoning than that,” the Tevinter grumbled quietly, concerned a louder complaint would get his invitation revoked.

“And I should go,” Hawke continued. “Maybe...”

“I'm sorry, Inquisitor, but sending non-mages is more difficult,” the enchanter said reluctantly. “If you are to go, three is all that can be handled.”

“Well that settles that then.” She dusted off her hands. “Are you two ready for this?”

“Inquisitor.” Cullen grabbed her arm firmly. “I must go.”

“You heard him. They can't send any more than this.”

“I have to.” He looked at her desperately. “Hawke, please.”

She let out a deep sigh and removed his hand. “Alright. Go kick some demon ass in my place.”

The commander nodded and got into position in the center of the round glyph, facing the dish of lyrium. He had guarded more than enough Harrowings to know what to do and waited for the others to join him. This was the easy part. Once he got into the Fade, he would need to rely heavily on Dorian and Solas. He was no more suited to the task than Hawke, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Ebrisa needed him.

Guardsmen tried to keep people moving through the hall, discouraging onlookers from lingering as the enchanters went about their task. Many were unprepared for the bright flash, but the former templars among them continued to urge people along as Cullen, Solas, and Dorian entered the Fade. Vivienne moved briskly down the side stairs, holding several letters in her hands. “Inquisitor, my dear, I believe I found something. Lydia and I never mentioned names in case our letters were intercepted – mage gossip can be ever so tantalizing sometimes – but she speaks of a mage killing three templars in this one. And here there seems to be some retribution for...” She paused and stared at the unconscious men.

“We didn't know when you would be back and didn't want to wait anymore,” Hawke explained as she took the offered letters. “I know you don't think much of Solas, but the Fade is kind of his thing.”

“I could care less if the hobo apostate went.” Vivienne waved at the elf dismissively. “I had merely hoped to prepare the group for what they might encounter in the Herald's dream. I fear she may be repeating this initial... incident.”

Hawke looked at her oddly before going back to the letter and trying to skim through the useless chatter. She stilled at the mention of the baths and read the rest of the letter more carefully. “Vivienne? Has anyone ever told you that you have a knack for understating? Incident? Really? This is more than an incident!”

Chapter Text

“Oh good, you're home.” Ebrisa looked up from the table, smiling warmly at Cullen as she set down a plate. She adjusted the sleeping child in her arms and crossed the small kitchen to give the man a kiss on the cheek. “Supper is almost ready, so if you could just take this.” Ebrisa handed the small girl over. Cullen studied the child's tiny nose and curly hair and felt his chest tighten. “They let you leave on time, so I take it patrol was uneventful?” Ebrisa asked while bending down to pull bread from the oven.

He caressed his thumb over the child's chubby cheek and smiled sadly. “I'll see you later, little one,” he whispered softly.

“Cullen?” Ebrisa tilted her head curiously. “Is something the matter?”

The commander closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “You'll need to try harder than that, demon. A good effort though.”

The small home faded away and the desire demon dropped her guise. “You're no fun at all.”

“So I've been told,” Cullen muttered, moving his empty hand to his sword hilt. A bolt of lightning shot out and struck the demon, making her grunt in annoyance.

“I'll go, I'll go,” she sighed. “Plenty of dreamers out there who enjoy my company.” Then she slipped through the hazy ground and disappeared.

Cullen turned to face the mage behind him. “How long were you there, Dorian?”

“Long enough,” the Tevinter shrugged slightly. “I was going to let you stay a moment longer, but you weren't fooled for a second, were you?”

“After the fall of Fereldan's Circle, I trained hard to recognize demon traps,” Cullen explained. He'd also seen enough fake Ebrisa's to notice one. They never smile right.

The mage hummed while looking around. “It seems sending you may have thrown those enchanters off their mark, but we shouldn't be too far from our goal. I'm certain Solas is already there, preparing to mock us.” Dorian was still for a few moments, feeling out the area. “This way, I believe. I can sense his elfy smugness.” They crossed the winding path, ignoring the branching routes and staying relatively straight. Seeing the Fade this way was so strange to Cullen, but Dorian seemed relatively at ease. Was this how mages wandered in their sleep?

Before long they found a large stone door with Solas waiting beside it. “Come to help at last?”

“Told you,” Dorian muttered to the commander.

The elf ran his hand over the door and frowned. “This is where I ran into trouble before. The Herald's dream is through here – I can sense her presence - but I simply can not force myself in.”

“Alright then, we'll focus on it together.” The Tevinter came up beside the elf and each placed a hand on the door, concentrating on breaking in. They tried for a while, growing weary and annoyed as nothing happened. “Perhaps we need a key or password? Did you try a knock knock joke?”

“Dorian, now is not the time for your sarcasm,” Solas huffed.

“Is that how it sounded? Oh dear. My question was completely genuine.”

As the mages shot snide remarks back and forth, Cullen looked the door over carefully. He reached out and took hold of the knob, feeling a rush of heat run through his arm, but he did not pull away. It left as soon as it had come and Cullen turned the handle and pushed the door open soundlessly.

The mages stared in stunned silence before Dorian looked at the elf from the corner of his eye. “You didn't try the knob?”

“Of course I tried the knob!” Solas snapped. “It refused to turn for me.”

“Well good thing we brought the Herald's key along.” The Tevinter clapped Cullen on the shoulder before moving past him through the doorway. Solas followed, nodding slightly at the commander as he too crossed the threshold. Cullen was uncertain what he had done differently from the others, but moved after them into the dream. The door slammed closed behind him, locking the trespassers in the cold, stone fortress.

“A Circle?” Cullen mumbled as he looked around, noting the familiar trappings.

“If the Circle the Herald normally dreams of is not Ostwick, perhaps this one is,” Solas mused as they moved through the halls, trying to find a sign of the trapped mage. The lights went out all at once and the men readied for attack, but none came. Fire sparked back onto the walls, the torches lighting one by one down one of the corridors. “It would seem we are to follow. Cole did mention a woman trying to help.”

They followed the lit torches down several flights of stairs before emerging in a wide hall which Cullen recognized as apprentice group quarters. The lights lead them past the closed doors and down more steps into the bathing area. “Derrick said Ebrisa killed templars here...”

A startled shout cut through the air followed by laughter, then louder screaming and pleading and Cullen rushed towards the noise, recognizing one of the voices immediately. The mages followed quickly after him and they came to a halt in one of the community baths. Templar armor was stacked to the side of the recessed pool along with several layers of clothing. In the water itself stood three half dressed men holding down a weakly struggling and screaming, naked young woman.

Solas turned his head away from the scene as Dorian looked on in horror. “Maker... this can't be what really happened,” the Tevinter mumbled.

Cullen felt numb as the men he could only presume to be templars tried to force themselves on the screaming, younger Ebrisa. One of them struck her across the face, bursting her lip as the others laughed at the dripping blood. He could see the fear on her face as she cried helplessly and tried to cast, but nothing came. They had cleansed her first, to ensure she couldn't fight back. They had... planned this.

He ran through the splashing water, trying to pull the men off, but couldn't seem to make contact with them.

“You can not touch. This is more a memory than a dream.” A tired, dark-haired woman said sorrowfully, suddenly on the edge of the bath behind the attack.

“Make it stop,” he pleaded.

The fake templars pulled apart the mage's legs, one of the men settling between them as he moved his own remaining clothing out of the way.

“Make it stop!” Cullen shouted loudly, his voice ricocheting off the walls.

“I can't,” the woman whispered, closing her eyes.

Ebrisa let out a blood curdling scream as the man lay into her, drowned out by the encouraging chuckles of her attackers. Cullen felt his heart break for her and his insides twist into knots of hatred for the men. He was frozen in place, unable to move or look away, powerless to do anything at all.

Angry flame violently exploded from the young mage, knocking everyone in the room over except the dark-haired woman. Cullen climbed to his feet in the now bubbling water, holding a hand to his face to try and block the stench of the burning corpses around him. They were barely recognizable as human, blackened and shriveled and frozen in skeletal screams of terror.

Ebrisa pulled herself into a ball and cried loudly, shaking in fear as she looked at what she'd done. Fire still floated around her, no longer angry, but almost soothing. The woman was beside the mage now, close to tears herself. “This part, she never remembers...” The woman leaned in and hugged Ebrisa from behind as the flame seemed to do the same. “I did this. It wasn't you, dear one. It was never you...”

Cullen knelt in the water and tried to comfort the mage, wanting to hold her until the tears stopped, but he couldn't touch her.

“She trusted them,” the woman said sadly as she ghosted her hand over Ebrisa's head, not able to make contact either. “She was raised to do so. Templars were good. They protected the world from evil magic. Champions of the Just.” The woman looked up at Cullen, remorse evident on her face. “I couldn't let her trust be broken again - I was so certain you would harm her. I had to protect her, but my actions to drive you away only resulted in hurting her. That was the last thing I wanted.”

The commander stared at the woman. “That was you? The one masquerading as Ebrisa in my nightmares?”

“You are the spirit that lead the Herald through the Fade. The one that protects her in battle.” Solas added. “And the one who ejected me from her dream.”

The woman looked down. “I am all that you say, but we do not have much time before it starts again.”

“Again?” Dorian furrowed his brow.

“The demons will drain her built up terror and despair and my sweetling goes back to the hall to live it over,” the woman said solemnly. “The only comfort I can take is that this is not her physical form, so she isn't really being repeatedly... violated.”

“Do you know where the demons are?” Cullen asked desperately. “If we slay them, the cycle will end and she can wake up, right?”

“The Harrowing chamber. I can show you, but ending the demons will only allow her to leave the Fade if she is herself.” The woman shook her head. “Dearest was doing this long before they arrived – her emotions are what drew them here. If she is not brought out of the trance, the demons will only grow stronger and she will become nothing.”

“How do we do that?” Dorian asked. “This isn't exactly our area of expertise.”

“We can't.” The woman sighed before turning to Cullen. “He can.”

“I- I don't...” the commander began.

“You can reach her. Its why she let you in. Even while her mind is not thinking clearly, her heart knows you.” The woman smiled sadly at the blonde mage and bent down to tap her nose lightly before turning sharply to the others. “Follow me, Master Solas, Master Dorian. From what I've been told, we should be able to defeat the demons together.”

“And what, exactly, have you been told about me?” Dorian asked as the three rushed out of the room, the corpses vanishing as well.

Cullen looked the weeping Ebrisa over slowly, taking in the mixture of emotions on her face. This is what really started it, her fear of templars and herself. This one horrific moment shaped her entire life afterwords. He tried to hold her again, but was still unable to touch her at all. It was torturous to see her in so much pain and not be able to comfort her.

“Ebrisa?” He tried awkwardly, moving to kneel in front of her in the water. “I'm here, Ebrisa. It's Cullen.” No reaction. “You need to wake up, Ebrisa. You can't stay here. Let's go back together, okay?” Still, nothing.

Cullen tried to keep calm and focused, but each broken sob, each shuddering intake of air from Ebrisa was like a twisting knife in his heart. If he couldn't hold her and she couldn't hear him, how was he to help her? What was it about him that made the spirit think he could succeed where she had failed? He just wanted Ebrisa back! He wanted her to wake up so she could smile and laugh and stop torturing herself for something that wasn't her fault! He just wanted her to be filled with warmth again, instead of this chilling despair and heart breaking self-loathing.

He'd trade places with her, if that would work. Live out his torture of Kinloch Hold forever if it would set her free. He would do anything – everything - to bring her out of this... even if he couldn't be there when she awoke. Being separated from her would break him, but he'd gladly accept any pain if it meant Ebrisa would be spared. He just loved her so much...

Cullen placed his hands as close as he could to the sides of her face and leaned his forehead to hers with his eyes closed. “Ebrisa, please wake up. If you stay like this, we can't be together. We can never be married, or have children, or...” Cullen sighed heavily and drew his thumbs across her warm cheeks, nudging her forehead. “I want to see you smile at me beside the alter. I want to fuss over you constantly when you're with child. I want to be so obnoxiously in love with you at every moment that people can't stand to look at us. I... Maker, I just want to hear you say my name again...”

“Cullen...?”

The commander's eyes shot open and he moved back in surprise. Ebrisa was her normal age again, wearing a simple, white dress and holding herself up in the water. Cullen pulled her tightly against him, relief flooding out in a rush as he laughed happily. “You're back! Thank the Maker. I didn't know what to do - I didn't think anything would get through to you!”

“If you're here, then you saw what I did and... what was done to me. How could you still say those things, knowing what happened? Were you just trying to get a reaction, or did you mean...?” The mage squirmed in his embrace and Cullen pulled away slowly to look her in the eyes.

“Every word. I meant ever single word of it.” He watched her eyes widen and face flush before she gave him the brightest, teary-eyed smile he'd ever seen. Ebrisa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, breaking occasionally to let out a short, giddy laugh. Cullen held her to him and returned her affection, but couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting -

He pushed her away suddenly. “Demons.”

“What?”

“Demons were feeding off your negative emotions. Dorian and Solas went to face them while I snapped you out of your trance,” Cullen explained.

Ebrisa shot up to her feet, not wanting the others to get harmed on her account. “Where did they go?”

“That spirit said the Harrowing chamber,” Cullen said as he stood. “If you aren't sure where that is, I can figure it out.”

The mage let out a small sigh. “I haven't been inside, but I've passed the room often enough.” They rushed out of the baths and up several flights of stairs until they reached a floor filled with ornately carved pillars and Chantry statues. Ebrisa lead Cullen past the flickering candelabras to a large door dwarfed only by the stone figure of Andraste beside it. The mage looked up at the Maker's Bride and whispered out a brief prayer before pushing open the door and entering the Harrowing chamber for the first time.

The vast, circular room was filled with freezing air and patches of ice from Despair's attacks, making it difficult to move around. Terror darted from spot to spot, dodging hits and knocking its attackers off their feet with an unusual speed. “I thought you said we would be able to handle this,” Dorian grumbled as he let loose an energy barrage in hopes of hitting the flittering pair.

“The demons have grown more powerful than I thought. I may have to do something drastic.” The spirit swept fire out in front of her, blocking Despair's blast.

“Mother!”

The spirit looked up at the Herald as she rushed over with Cullen, surprised to see her moving around. “Sweetling, its too dangerous for you here. The demons can still feed off of you.”

“I can't stay back when others fight for my sake.” Ebrisa stared down the demons and clenched her hands. “They hold nothing over me now.”

“But you are still weak! You can not hope to fight them.” The spirit looked down, weighing its options. It set its jaw and began to wrap fire around itself. “I think... I can end this if I use all of my essence.”

“No, Mother, you can't!” The Herald shook her head furiously.

“But if they remain, you will be stuck in this dream. Possibly your friends as well.” The spirit's form began to shift as the flame enveloped her. “Let me protect you this one, last time.” It lifted from the ground and flew into Despair, tackling the demon to the far wall with a crash. The two struggled with one another, shouting and shrieking as they fought for dominance. Having one target mostly contained, the men focused their efforts on Terror, Cullen lending his blade to the mages' efforts.

Ebrisa watched the others fight and wasn't sure what to do. They were all in danger because of her, because she hadn't been able to control herself in the Fade. She couldn't even help defeat the demons, because they'd drained so much from her. It dawned on Ebrisa suddenly that this was her dream and these demons were more than unwelcome. She knelt down and focused her mana into the forefront of her mind as Solas had taught her months ago, reciting a lengthy phrase over and over as the energy gathered. The mage felt a buzzing in her head and opened her eyes, the orbs glowing for a split second as a powerful wave spread across the room at lightning speed. The others fell over as their weakened opponents were ripped from them, ejected from the Herald's dream all together.

Solas took a moment to recover before turning to Ebrisa and nodding. “Most impressive, especially being your first true attempt at that.”

Ebrisa smiled wearily as she held herself up on wobbly arms. That had really taken a lot out of her. “I'm more impressed that I didn't mispronounce the elven.” Cullen came to her side quickly and she grabbed his arm for support.
“There is nothing holding you here now, dear one. You can awake at any time.” The spirit looked at her sadly, pieces flickering off and burning her away slowly.
“Mother, why are you still doing that? Stop it. You don't need to.” Ebrisa reached out for the woman, face twisting in concern.

The spirit sighed happily. “Even if I could, I wouldn't. You don't need me to protect you anymore. Your gift was always bright, but now you've finally accepted it. You've gotten so strong, sweetling, and I know you're in good hands.”

“But you've been with me every night since I was... attacked.” The Herald looked down. “I don't even know why you came to me.”

“I've been watching you long since before that, but I was barely more than a memory of a person. When I broke through the Veil to get those men off you, I was filled with so much fury at what they were doing... it changed me into a spirit of wrath. I killed them for you, and so many others, and I just didn't care. It only mattered that you were safe. You kept me... me.” The spirit lifted her vanishing hand and sighed. “The fire that sprang to life when you were deprived of your own magic? The heat in your hands when you couldn't defend yourself? That was me.”

“What did I do to draw you?” Ebrisa whispered, trying to understand before the spirit was lost to her forever.

“Like you, I was born a mage in a family distrusting of them. Father saw to it that I was sent to a far off Circle and that was the last I heard of them for a long, long time. Then one day, a letter. My sister, staying true to her nature, blamed me for something I had no control over - she had given birth to a mage.” The spirit looked at the Herald, smiling softly. “I knew she would tell me nothing else, so I tried to escape the Circle. Templars hunted me for days before catching me and I resisted too strongly - I just had to see you. After I was slain, I wandered the Fade searching for you. Just a peek, then I would pass on. That was the plan, but when I saw how Galatea was treating you, I just couldn't leave you alone.”

Ebrisa's eyes widened. “You are... Renata?”

The spirit laughed lightly. “Ah, I haven't heard that name in a while. Yes, dear one, I am your Aunt Renata. I hope you forgive the lie, but I just wanted you to feel a mother's love.” She bent down and tapped her invisible finger on the mage's nose, Ebrisa's face glowing softly from the touch. “But now you know a love greater than what I was able to give you in dreams and that fact makes everything worth it to me.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa, Cullen, Solas, and Dorian all shot up awake at the same time in the main hall, causing Sera to swear loudly in surprise. The Herald put her hands to her chest, feeling a dull ache at the loss of her guardian, like part of her was gone. She knew the spirit of her aunt would not return to the Fade and all she could do was pray that Renata made it to the Maker's side. “Goodbye...” she whispered softly.

“How do we know if she's alright?” Hawke asked Vivienne, looking the Herald over slowly.

The enchanter sighed lightly and knelt beside Ebrisa, fanning the tail of her coat out as she bent. “How are you feeling, my dear? A bit woozy, I suspect. That's common with this sort of thing.”

Ebrisa was feeling a little lightheaded and found her limbs oddly heavy. It seemed she would need time to recover what was stolen from her. “I... I suppose I'm okay.”

“Well thank the Maker for that,” Emery sighed. Ebrisa turned to the voice, looking him over curiously as she stood up. “Oh, um, hello.” He suddenly felt unprepared, no longer even having his armor to hide behind as Hawke had ordered him to change shortly after reading the letters. This wasn't how he planned on their reunion. “Its good to-”

“Emery!” The Herald moved as if to hug him excitedly, then awkwardly halted and tried to curtsey. “Oh, um, wel-welcome to Skyhold. I -we – uh.”

The templar smiled and shook his head. “You had it right the first time, Ebrisa. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around the mage and spun her around in circles, causing her to shriek.

“Ser Emery, I really must insist you set the Lady Herald down,” the cleric said rather sternly.

The templar stopped suddenly and set Ebrisa back on her now wobbly feet. “Right. Apologies. I'm just relieved I didn't aid in giving my little sister brain damage.” Emery held the mage by the shoulders until she recovered her balance. “You recognized me right away. How? Its been twelve years!”

Ebrisa smiled sheepishly and pointed to a faint scar on his left temple. “Riding accident, Cloudreach 9:22 Dragon.” She pointed to another scar by his right ear. “Riding accident, Drakonis 9:24 Dragon.” The mage indicated another small mark on his chin. “Riding accident, Bloomingtide 9:25 Dragon.” She moved her finger as if to point to something else and Emery pushed her hand away.

“You're going to make people think I can't handle a horse,” he muttered, blushing slightly.

“No, you're quiet good, you just let Federyc goad you into races a lot.” Ebrisa smiled lightly, forgetting her sadness as she tried to wrap her mind around her brother's sudden appearance. “How is he? And Aurelia? Mother said she's been engaged.” She looked at him excitedly, eager to hear the news her mother refused to relate.

“He, um, he's doing well,” Emery began slowly. “Ysmay is expecting, so there will be another niece or nephew running around soon. Aurelia wed Lord Taygett over a month ago and she's already settled in at Starkhaven.” He watched as the mage slipped further and further out of her happy mood.

“Over a month...?” Ebrisa mumbled quietly. “I'm guessing Ysmay is Federyc's wife. How... how many children do they have?”

“This will be the third,” the templar answered softly. “You really had no idea?”

“I was stashed away in a Circle to protect Mother's image. She wasn't inclined to write.” The Herald sighed and looked down, her body feeling heavy as the excitement faded. “I'm still feeling a bit unwell, I think. I'll return to my quarters. If you'll excuse me.” Cullen came up beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders for both support and comfort as they walked off.

Emery watched them disappear out of view and turned to Josephine. “Lady ambassador, what did she mean about protecting my mother's image? And that thing you said before about the First Enchanter getting instructions... What is going on?”

Josephine gasped lightly in realization. “Of course, you were in Hasmal! You wouldn't have known...” She sighed and held her head. “Come with me, Ser Emery, I have some uncomfortable news to share with you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though she was drained, Cullen refused to let Ebrisa go back to sleep for fear that she might become trapped again and took her to his office instead. He sat with her in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. So much had happened in the short amount of time he was in the Fade and while he didn't think any differently of Ebrisa and his feelings hadn't wavered, he couldn't help but be concerned. Did she need to talk about it? Would that ease or worsen the pain?

He looked down at her from his perch on the arm of the chair, gently stroking her hair as she lay her head in his lap. She hadn't spoken since they left the hall and he was uncertain of what to say. “I'm not very good at this, but if there's anything-” Cullen stopped and sighed heavily. “That sounded better in my head...”

Ebrisa sat up slowly and watched the uncertainty tug at Cullen's features. “What is it?”

The commander tried again. “You've been hit with some pretty shocking news about your family, your aunt, most of all. And after reliving that assault...” He hesitated, still feeling he was muddling his good intentions. “I just want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? If you need to talk about anything – ever – I'll listen and do what I can to help.”

The mage lowered her eyes and tugged at the hem of her sleeve. “You... you don't think any less of me, do you? I mean, I'm tainted...”

“Ebrisa, you're not tainted.” Cullen got off the chair and pulled the mage to her feet, holding her tightly in what he hoped was a soothing embrace. “You were a victim, you did nothing wrong, and nothing I could have seen or learned about your past can ever change the way I see you. You are every bit the woman now that you were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.”

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, soaking in his warmth and strength. If things had gone differently in her life, she may not have felt the need to go to the Conclave, and she never would have met Cullen. A life without him? It was impossible to even imagine such a thing. Ebrisa opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a desperate whine from her empty stomach. She flushed in mortification and pulled away. “I'm so sorry about that, I- I...”

Cullen chuckled softly before lightly kissing her temple. She was indeed every bit the same woman he loved. He had food brought up and made sure she ate something before even looking at the pile of work on his desk. The officers had tried to do what they could while the commander was unavailable and Cullen would need to thank them for that.

Ebrisa sat in the corner chair as he sorted the papers and reports still left for him. “It shouldn't have been such a shock to hear those things about my family. I shouldn't have become so upset.”

“If you recall, I missed a wedding and news of another generation as well.” Cullen glanced up from the desk with a half smile. “That was my own fault, but it did still hurt. You can be as upset as you like.”

The mage returned his weak smile. “I should just be glad that Emery is here.”

“And that he doesn't share any of your mother's views,” Cullen added while finishing up a set of orders. “I'm sure the other two are the same and Bann Trevelyan was certainly aghast by your mother's treachery.”

“He was?” Ebrisa was never told what had happened when they escorted her mother back home.

“Oh, yes. Not much was said publicly for fear of damaging the family name further, but he did tell our men that he had no idea what she was doing. I don't know what actions he took against her, but I'm told he was more than furious.”

“So they aren't ashamed of me, even though I broke the family tradition?”

Cullen set the completed paperwork to the side and began reading the next set. “I think we would have heard more of an outcry if that were the case. Besides, if your templar brother showed so much concern for you, I'd say the siblings not trained to distrust mages would feel no shame at all.”

“Templar brother?”

He nodded. “Ser Emery. He came in with the Hasmal templars.”

“So that's what he meant by not assisting in giving me brain damage...” Ebrisa smiled slowly. “I wonder what their names are, Federyc's children. Or how little they are... do they look more like him or his wife? They surely can't be as adorable as Jayden.”

The commander chuckled lightly. “Sometimes I feel as though you've claimed my nephew for your own.”

“Well he did call me Auntie Briza.” The mage laughed. “Mia told me he looks just like you and Branson did at that age.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

“So...” Ebrisa began blushing. “So I suppose when we have a boy, he'll look much the same.”

Cullen looked up sharply and dropped the quill, creating a large ink blot on the sheet. “We – I – what did you say?”

The mage began to fiddle with her amulet. “Well, in my dream... I thought you said... I mean... ” She lowered her head and studied the coin around her neck.

“You didn't mishear me, Ebrisa,” he said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “Its just that...” Cullen rubbed his neck as he blushed. “I... I always pictured us having a girl.”

She stood up soundlessly and crossed the short distance to his desk, stopping on the other side across from him. “I would be happy with either. Or both. Or multiples of each.” Ebrisa smiled brightly at him. “I want all of those things you said when you thought I couldn't hear. I want them so badly, Cullen.”

He leaned forward and held her cheek with one hand, drawing her to him. “Good, because I have plans for us once Corypheus is dealt with.” They leaned over the desk and kissed, both of their hearts overflowing with warmth from the unspoken promise.

“Commander, a report just came in from-” The soldier stopped with his hand still on the recently opened door. The couple broke apart and turned to the intruder, Cullen glaring and Ebrisa's face flushed with her parted lips still quivering slightly. The soldier blushed heavily as he stared at the Herald and felt his mouth go dry. He gulped audibly as he tried to recover. “I'll just put this in your office. Ah. This is your office... heh.” He awkwardly set the report on Cullen's desk and backed away. “Um, as you were?” The soldier turned around quickly and rushed out the door, slamming it closed.

“I'm beginning to think I'm the only person who knocks...” Ebrisa mused quietly.

“Which is ironic, since you are the only one who can't interrupt us.” Cullen sighed as he looked over the new report.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You,” Derrick spat as the mage entered the cell block. “How are you still here? Did the Inquisition believe nothing I said?”

It had taken much convincing, but Ebrisa managed to get the guards to allow her entry to the jail. They were uncertain it was safe for her, but she needed to find some sort of closure. “They believe that you saw only what you wanted to see, but that was only one side, Ser Derrick.”

“Knight-Captain,” he corrected bitterly.

Ebrisa sighed quietly. “Of course, Knight-Captain. I came here to tell you that I carried the guilt for what happened for a long, long time. I've only just found out another side of the attack and that I... did not kill your friends.”

“Not very likely.”

“There was a spirit watching over me,” she said quietly. “I never asked for her or made a contract with her or anything like that. She wanted nothing from me. I am no abomination.” Derrick snorted, but the mage continued. “Since I couldn't fend off the templars as they held me down... couldn't get away from Remy as he... he forced-” Ebrisa took in a sharp breath and shook her head. “The spirit broke through the Veil for but a moment and stopped them, but by doing so, she changed.”

“That's... ridiculous.” Derrick glared, though not as intensely as before. “I had hoped that when Ostwick's Circle fell, someone would have dealt with you. Did your spirit friend save you then too? How many templars lay burned in your wake?”

Ebrisa looked sadly out over the open expanse of the jail. “Many... very many, but not in the Circle. Senior Enchanter Vemara got me out. I don't know how she managed it, but she grabbed as many phylacteries as she could and gathered up mages as the templars began... enforcing the Right of Annulment. I was content to wait in my room for death, feeling I deserved no less, but... she came for me. I was clear on the other side of the Circle, but Senior Enchanter Vemara came for me. I still don't know why...”

“Maleficar mind control...” Derrick mumbled, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself more than accuse her.

“I'm not...” Ebrisa sighed and shook her head. “Getting across the bridge was impossible, but the Senior Enchanter knew of an old tunnel and guided us out of Ostwick all together. We didn't last long as a group, too many of us scared and weary. She tried, but one by one the others were caught or killed. She had hoped to track down other survivors with the phylacteries, but when we were cornered and there was no way out... she set an inferno - destroying the vials, the templar pursuers, and herself.”

Ebrisa looked down at her hands, becoming lost in the memory. “Maker, I didn't know what to do after that. I wondered by myself for a long time, but I didn't know how to survive in the free world. I ran into templars and tried to surrender at first, but none wanted prisoners. It was me or them, and the spirit never allowed it to be me. I thought I was doing all the killing myself, that my magic was uncontrollable, and I sought out the Right of Tranquility to end the danger I put others in. That lead me to the Conclave... to the Divine... to the mark... to the Inquisition.” She looked up at the caged templar, seeing his resolve wavering slightly. “The Maker created all things in this world – all situations and trials and meetings. I'm not saying that what was done to me by your fellows was a good thing or that their deaths were a blessing, but everything happens for a reason. Try to find an end to your anger in that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Varric had felt more than a little responsible for the Herald's attack by the Hasmal templars. It was him who called her to the hall to be his musical muse, despite the fact that he had actually finished the book already. He was trying to help the woman be less embarrassed to perform in front of a crowd, but his stupid plan resulted in her going through a lot of painful things. When he was certain she was indeed alright, he hand delivered the manuscript.

“I don't plan on getting this awful thing published, so consider yourself one lucky reader.” Varric chuckled as the mage stared at the twine-bound stack of writing. “You're likely the only one who will ever read this.”

“I do, but I'm not,” Ebrisa giggled, her first one since leaving the Fade. “Thank you so so much, Master Varric! We'll go read it right now!” She sped off through the door, holding the story securely to her chest.

The dwarf raised a brow. “We?”

“Seeker Pentaghast!” Ebrisa ran up to the warrior, barely able to contain her excitement.

Cassandra looked up from the training dummy. “Herald. Is everything alright?”

The mage held the book up, exposing the hand-written title. “Do you have some time?”

The Nevarran dropped the standard issue sword to the ground as she gasped. “I knew he had to be writing the next part!”

“He didn't intend to, but I pleaded with him. He couldn't just leave the Knight-Captain imprisoned,” Ebrisa huffed. “It cost me, but I think it will be worth it.”

The women hurried up the steps and into one of the unused rooms, closing the doors for privacy. They settled down against the wall side by side and eagerly opened to the first page. It took a little time to adjust to Varric's handwriting, but once they did the two were lost inside the story. Ebrisa gasped suddenly and Cassandra elbowed her. “No spoilers! You read faster than I do and – no!” The seeker paled slightly. “Turn the page, turn it!” Ebrisa quickly complied and the pair continued on, so focused on the world inside the pages that they failed to keep tabs on their own.

“Well if it isn't the last person I'd suspect,” Varric called out as he leaned against the now open door. “When Sunshine said we, I thought maybe she roped Ruffles or the kid into the poor taste club. Must have taken some convincing to get you in here, Seeker.”

Cassandra hesitated, embarrassed by her adoration of the serial. Ebrisa took one look at the warrior and smiled sheepishly. “I'm afraid my tactics are between myself and Seeker Pentaghast. Surely you can't be surprised that any woman would have even the tiniest interest in tales of romance. You capture the feminine mind so well, I thought you would understand that.”

Varric chuckled. “Trying to distract my suspicion with flattery? Perfect plan. It worked.” He pushed off from the door and left the room, only to poke his head back inside. “For now, at least. Enjoy, ladies.”

Chapter Text

“So let me get this straight.” Emery looked from the mount to his sister. “He's a Red Hart.”

“He is.” Ebrisa nodded.

“And you named him Rufous.”

“I did.”

“As in red.”

“Yes...”

The templar sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “Maker, its like you never matured at all. How is this possible?”

Ebrisa nearly pouted. “I knew it. I told Ser Blackwall back in Haven that you would make fun of the name.”

The hart snapped its teeth at Emery, nearly catching some of his hair. “Hey now, easy boy. I'm on your side here. You shouldn't be saddled with a bad name.”

The mage rubbed Rufous' neck with both hands. “He happens to like the name.”

“Fine, let him keep it, but please tell me you'll let your future husband name your children. I don't think I could stand having a niece named Alabaster because she's pale.” The man chuckled.

Ebrisa awkwardly turned her blushing face away.

“Wait, can you marry? I know priests can't, but what rules does the Herald of Andraste have to follow?” Emery scratched his head in thought. “I guess there isn't really a precedent for that...”

“Sp-speaking of nieces, could you tell me more about Federyc's children?” The mage glanced up at her brother, cheeks still slightly flushed. “It occurs to me they could be older than Master Kieran.”

“Master Kieran?” He tilted his head curiously.

“Lady Morrigan's son. There aren't any other children in Skyhold, so I play with him occasionally,” Ebrisa explained as she led her brother to a bench by the scaffolding.

“Master Kieran?” He repeated.

“Etiquette, Emery. What did you think Mother was teaching me all that time we were alone?”

“She told us you were sickly, so I assumed you were resting. Should have realized that was a lie...” The templar rubbed at his forehead. “But the little ones, yes. I left for training shortly after you went to the cloi – Circle, so I haven't seen them very often myself, but I get letters.

“First is Theoderyc. He is currently...seven, but his birthday is next month. He enjoys watching swordplay and practices with Federyc when Ysmay is out of the house – the woman detests violence. The other one is Catilynn, age four. She fancies herself an artist specializing in animals – sometimes on animals.”

Ebrisa smiled and leaned back on the bench. “So not too old or too young. Right between Master Kieran and little Jayden.”

Emery turned to her with a puzzled look. “Jayden? I thought Master Kieran was the only child here.”

“Cullen's nephew,” she explained. “Mia and Rosalie, Cullen's sisters, brought him with for a visit a little while back. He was so polite and adorable. Story please, Fluffy!” The mage held her hands to her cheeks and shook her head. “Oh, I just couldn't stand it sometimes.”

Emery continued to look at her. “Jayden, Cullen, Mia, and Rosalie?”

“Yes? What of them?” Ebrisa tilted her head.

“Etiquette, Ebrisa.” He smirked. “You use it for a child, but not the Commander or his family?”

She blushed an amusing shade of pink. “Cullen and I are... we, um.” Ebrisa slipped the amulet free of her blouse and held it tightly. “Well I guess we aren't actually... but, um, regardless, we are together.” She looked up at her brother with a radiant smile. “I love him, Emery. For the longest time I didn't think I deserved to be loved, but he showed me I was wrong. He's helped me so much and I... I would be lost without him.”

The templar sighed heavily and pulled his sister into a hug. “This isn't fair. I finally get to see my baby sister and she's already a woman. I missed out on so many of the things Federyc did for Aurelia...”

“You're here now, that's what matters.” Ebrisa returned the hug.

“Pardon the interruption, your worship.” Barris approached them, a little awkwardly. “Commander Cullen has called for the templars to explain the battle plans once more before we head out tomorrow.”

“Oh.” The mage pulled away and stood up immediately. “Of course, Knight-Commander Barris.” The templars nodded at her and left her alone in the evening air. She watched them go as a pit of worry began forming in her stomach.

Reports of Venatori and Red Templar movements had been flooding in, and it didn't take long for the war council to realize the enemy was congregating in one location. With Corypheus already massing his army in the Dales, the Inquisition was scrambling to gather their allies and forces together to face him in battle. Leliana's agents were already in the field, doing what they could to slow the enemy and stall for time as the Orlesians established the base of operations. The Inquisition's own army was heading out before first light and the Herald would have to watch her love and her brother march off without her as Hawke was refusing to allow her to go. The Inquisitor wasn't alone in her decision either. It seemed no one wanted to put the Herald in harm's way, despite practically all of Skyhold emptying to join the fight. While having her to inspire the troops had boosted morale against the wardens so many months ago, loosing the Herald in the Fade drained them to practically nothing. It could not be repeated.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Finally, Knight-Commander Brycen will be meeting us in the Arbor Wilds and the Hasmal templars are to return to his unit once we arrive. He still knows you better than Knight-Commander Barris and I would see everyone fighting to their best ability.” Cullen nodded at the group of newcomers. “Once again, the marching order for tomorrow will be Inquisition soldiers, mages, then templars. The mages won't be used to the effort, so keep everyone moving peacefully and we will stay on schedule. Remember, we are in this together. That will be all.” The templars broke apart and dispersed throughout the barracks as Cullen gathered his papers. He had barely stepped outside when someone approached him.

“Commander, a moment?” Emery demanded more than asked.

“There are precious few of those left,” Cullen sighed and turned around. “Did you have a question about tomorrow's procedure?”

“No, Commander, I wanted to ask you your intentions.”

Cullen raised a brow. “Fight off Corypheus' army long enough for the Inquisitor to secure the artifact, if not defeat them outright.”

“Not your intentions for the Arbor Wilds, for Ebrisa.” Emery tried again.

“She will be staying here. I've arranged a small guard rotation over her while the army is away.” The commander began to doubt he was leaving behind enough men.

“Commander.” Emery raised his voice a bit too much, drawing the attention of several others. “I am not asking strategies. I am asking your intentions towards my sister.” The templar leveled a glare only big brothers can muster and it was suddenly clear what he was asking.

“Oh.” Cullen coughed as a blush crept onto his face. “Is this really the time to be asking that?”

“With all due respect, Commander, we are marching off to battle tomorrow. There may not be another time.” Emery folded his arms, trying to seem threatening to his superior. “I've only just gotten her back and I won't see her harmed. You have sisters of your own, so I'm sure you can understand where I am coming from here.”

Cullen shook his head and sighed. He did indeed understand and really should have seen this conversation coming. “Ser Emery, your sister's well being is my main concern.”

“That's not what I asked you,” the templar nearly growled.

The commander glanced around at the those watching and blushed further. “If you're already prepared for tomorrow, then go to sleep!” He shouted at the onlookers before pulling the redhead to a more secluded area. He turned to the noble once they were alone and looked him in the eye. “Marriage.”

Emery blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I intend to marry Ebrisa,” Cullen clarified. “There's the matter of stopping the ancient darkspawn magister first, but once things have calmed and we can actually breathe, I can focus on her.”

“But you haven't actually proposed to her yet...” Emery tilted his head.

“Ah, no, not...really.” Cullen rubbed his neck. “She knows I want to - we both want to – but its more of an... implied promise at this point.”

“So that's what she meant...” the redhead mumbled as he looked down. He chuckled suddenly before looking back at the commander. “And here I was ready to throw down and likely get my ass kicked to defend my little sister's honor. Glad that wasn't needed.”

“As am I.” Cullen motioned back to the barracks. “Let's save that energy for the enemy, shall we?” Emery saluted with a smirk and went back inside.

The commander let out a deep sigh before returning to his office and ensuring everything was packed for the morning. He'd spoken with each group and made the proper arrangements with those staying behind. There was really nothing left for him to do until the morning and Ebrisa promised to see him off, so he decided it would be best to turn in and get as much rest as possible while he could. He removed his armor and set the pieces by his helm and sword, both already cleaned and ready to go.

Cullen glanced at the side door briefly before shaking his head and climbing the ladder. It would be easier to say goodbye in the morning with a schedule to keep to so he wouldn't linger. He climbed into his room and began to remove the rest of his clothing, but stilled as he looked up.

Ebrisa sat awkwardly on his bed in a dressing gown with her hair fully down, curls slipping over her shoulders as she hesitantly raised her eyes. She smiled meekly at him and rose to her feet. “I wasn't sure when you would get here...”

“What...?” Cullen's blood began to race as the mage approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“You leave in the morning, and...” Ebrisa said quietly as she took hold of his hand and began to lead him to the bed. “We haven't... um...” She glanced at him briefly, cheeks burning. “I know you've wanted to, and... um...”

He stared at her as she climbed back onto the covers and realized she was wearing nothing beneath the thin, dressing gown. She tugged on his arm lightly and he joined her on the bed, sitting beside her. Ebrisa hesitated slightly before closing her eyes and kissing him on the lips, directing his hand to her waist. Cullen deepened the kiss almost instantly with a hungry growl, unable to restrain himself, and eased her onto her back. He held himself up, not wanting to crush her, and slid his hand down her hip and along the outside of her thigh before raising her knee slightly and bending her leg. Cullen broke from the kiss and started nipping at her neck as he slipped his hand underneath the thin fabric to caress her shivering thigh. In fact, her entire body was trembling and she was oddly silent.

Cullen pulled away and looked at the woman beneath him. Her eyes were squeezed shut as tears slid from the corners, lips pressed into a firm line. She seemed almost... scared. “Ebrisa?”

She gasped and opened her eyes, trying to smile reassuringly. “Ye-yes? What's wrong?”

“I was going to ask you that.” Cullen moved his hand to her face, gently stroking her cheek.

“It-its okay.” The mage grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. “You want to lie with me, and if you don't come back... I know I'll regret not doing this for you.”

Cullen pulled away from her and got off the bed. “But you don't want to.”

“No, I- I do. I really do want to, Cullen.” Ebrisa sat up, looking at him pleadingly. “I may not be ready, I may be scared, but I want to do this for you.”

“And that's the problem right there.” He let out a deep breath. “Did you think I could be happy with just... taking you? That I could just do what I wanted and leave?”

The mage lowered her head and clenched the dressing gown closed. “I thought... I thought that's how it worked...”

“Of course its not!” Cullen snapped. “That would be taking advantage of you, almost like - ” The words caught in his throat as it dawned on him. For all the moans he's elicited from her before, she had never truly been with someone. Her assault in the Circle was really all she knew. “Maker's Breath, Ebrisa...” he sighed heavily. “Sex isn't supposed to be like that. I would never do that to you.” Cullen placed his hand gently on her chin and tilted it up so she would look at him. “If anything, I want to do things to you – for you – more than be in pleasure myself.”

She tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her. “And I want to feel that,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I think things... often... but I wanted to wait until we were wed. I know it's foolish, but its how I was raised. But... I'm not really pure anyways... and... and what if you don't come back?”

“You are more than pure, Ebrisa, and I think this is a pretty good motivator for me to return.” Cullen kissed her softly on the lips and felt her finally relax against him. “I'll come back, and I'll wait for you to be ready. Turns out my templar training has given me a great deal of self control.”

“Can't I join you? Help morale like at Adamant? I promise I'll stay at the operations base.” Ebrisa looked up at him pleadingly. “Lady Montilyet and Empress Celene will be there, so it must be secure.”

“Even if it were up to me, I wouldn't allow it. You need to stay safe.” He kissed the top of her head before pulling her to her feet. “Lets get you back to your quarters, okay?”

The mage hung her head and nodded slowly. A scenario like this had worked in Varric's book, but she supposed the situation was much, much different from her own. Nothing seemed to be working right, but she wasn't about to give up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
The army had made their goal with enough time to set up camp before the sunlight was lost to them. Ebrisa had not seen them off that morning and more people than just Cullen and Emery were disappointed by that fact. The soldiers knew they would not have the Herald with them in battle and desperately wanted one final glance at their lady to embolden their faith before departing, but they would make do with the memory of her instead.

For the most part, the different sections of the army stayed divided in camp, especially the mages and templars. The hostilities between the two groups was nowhere near as bad as it once was, but no one wanted to be the person to change that. Besides, if the Herald was a mage and her brother a templar – not to mention the relationship she had with the commander -, than surely the two sides could at least be civil. A few people walked around the whole camp, mostly those on watch, but there was an oddly loud mage taking everything in while keeping to herself.

“First march?” An archer asked her suddenly. “Don't imagine you'd be wasting energy otherwise.”

“Oh, yes,” the mage squeaked out from beneath her cowl. “I really didn't know what to expect.”

“Well go get as much rest as you can. Commander Cullen wants us up early to continue the march.” The archer sighed. “Then... then we fight.”

“You aren't scared, are you?” Another soldier smirked as he looked up from sharpening his blade.

“Corypheus has an arch demon, of course I'm scared!” The archer snapped. “I was at Haven. I saw how fast that thing turned the tide.”

“Hush up, would you?” The soldier shook his whetstone at the others face. “Don't go bringing down the others any more than they already are.”

“They know. They all know.” The archer waved a hand through the air. “An army, we can handle. A blighted dragon? Ha!”

The mage walked away and listened to other groups share concerns and fears for the battle ahead, some barely holding it together. It was worse than she thought it would be. This was the Inquisition's fierce army? They always seemed so confident before... They couldn't possibly go into battle like this and come out victorious. How many would be lost simply from lack of hope? She chewed on her lip and looked around the camp before lowering her cowl and climbing on a stack of crates.

Cullen studied the map carefully, trying to see if there was any way to shorten the remainder of the march - the more rest the men got before the fight, the better. “Commander, a raven has arrived from Skyhold.” A runner handed the message over quickly. Cullen had instructed those left behind to report in each day, regardless if something happened or not, and expected the note to be little more than that. He read it over as a commotion began building outside.

“I see I need to have a discussion with Linnet about what information should be sent out right away instead of waiting until the daily report,” he groaned and held the bridge of his nose.

“Um, Commander?” The runner was leaning out of the tent and staring down at the gathering group.

“She's here, isn't she?” Cullen sighed as he moved past the soldier. He pushed his way through the kneeling crowd and stopped at the base of the crates. The commander folded his arms and frowned disapprovingly as the blonde mage recited the Chant for the masses.

“You have walked beside me

Down the paths where a thousand arrows

sought my flesh.

You have stood with me when all others

Have forsaken me.”

Ebrisa stopped when she noticed his mild anger and laughed lightly.

“It seems the Herald of Andraste has not abandoned us, only her guards.” Cullen said loudly to the camp. “It appears she insists on helping.” The camp clamored excitedly and those present went to go spread the news as Cullen snatched Ebrisa's hand and pulled her to the command tent, refusing to say anything to her until they were alone.

“Don't be mad,” she began.

“How can I not be mad!” Cullen nearly shouted, knowing he had to keep his volume down or risk half the camp hearing them. “I told you, Hawke told you, Leliana told you, everyone told you not to come! Why can't you ever think of your own safety?”

“But I did this time. Ser Cole helped me get all of this together last night.” Ebrisa slipped off the borrowed mage robes to reveal a full length chain skirt and her silverite breast plate on top of a thin cotton chemise. “Surprisingly, this is actually lighter than my ball gown was.”

He held his head and sighed heavily. “Wearing more armor isn't what I meant...”

“But at Adamant you said-”

“This isn't just about Adamant,” Cullen nearly growled and began to pace. “At Therinfall you lured a demon away from the Inquisitor. At Haven you bought us time against an army. At Adamant you threw yourself off a bridge to save Hawke and stayed behind in the Fade without a plan of escape. At that damn masquerade you ran off to stop demons without any equipment!” He stopped moving and turned to her sharply. “Do you still think so little of yourself that you don't consider your own safety?”

Ebrisa lowered her head and traced her fingers along the seams of the folded robe in her arms. “No, that's... that's not it...”

“This is the largest, most dangerous battle we have had – likely the largest we will ever have – and you are not prepared for this.” Cullen cut in.

“I know that, but-”

“Then why did you sneak your way here?” He fumed. “Why didn't you stay behind?”

“Because you're here!” Ebrisa snapped, looking up sharply with hints of her own anger. “You wanted to keep me away, keep me safe, but then you dive into that danger yourself. Yes, you're a warrior, its what you do. Yes, you're the commander and the men need you. And yes, you wouldn't ask something of them that you wouldn't do yourself. But you... you can't expect me to just sit around and go crazy waiting to hear if you're still alive. What if you died, but I could have done something if I was near? Help or heal or... or at least say goodbye in person.” She looked back down at the mage garb in her arms and refused to cry. “I won't let you leave me behind so easily. You said you had plans for us... that means you and me.”

“I hadn't considered...” Cullen mumbled, feeling a bit guilty. Of course she would worry for him and want to do all she could to keep him safe. She wasn't asking to fight at his side or charge from the front lines, she was only asking to be near in case something went wrong. Could he really deny her that?

He smirked and shook his head at the armored mage.

Apparently not.

“I suppose, since you're already here, you might as well stay with the army,” Cullen sighed as he took the Herald into his embrace. “Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad.”

Ebrisa laughed lightly. “Then so am I.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though many were upset with Ebrisa for ignoring instructions and putting herself in danger once again, far more were relieved to have the Herald of Andraste with them. For the rest of the march, she was lent a horse and moved from unit to unit to encourage the army. Some asked for a prayer or song as they marched – many Fereldan's disappointed that she didn't know Andraste's Mabari. The mage felt a bit awkward at first, but complied with a smile and did all she could to keep their spirits up.

Emery was still more than a little angry, but the templars walking around him assured the noble that Andraste was with the Herald and told him of all they witnessed at Therinfall. Their confidence in her divine protection and the way they spoke of his sister with such reverence filled him with a mixture of unease and pride. He kept going back to that pouting little girl following him and Aurelia around, meekly asking to play some ridiculous children's game and the way her face lit up when they reluctantly agreed. He remembered seeing her less and less and how relieved he was to no longer be pestered, but how guilty he'd feel when he caught a glimpse of her disappearing behind a locked door or met eyes with her watching them through a window. That quiet blonde thing had matured and meant so much to the soldiers marching around him. She was the Herald of Andraste to them and nothing could harm her, but Emery could only see the baby sister he tried to ignore.

Chapter Text

Whether from the alternate routes the commander plotted or the Herald's encouragement, the army arrived at the base camp a little before schedule and set about organizing themselves as Cullen met with the officers already there. Ebrisa walked around, trying to figure out what to do, and ended up by a series of cots and tables which she realized was the infirmary. It was such a large, empty area but she knew it wouldn't be that way tomorrow. She began digging through the untouched crates and setting up the tables with the unpacked supplies, trying to arrange them similarly to what she saw at the warden fortress.

“Your worship?” A templar approached her uncertainly.

She turned around, closed basket of rolled linen in hand. “Yes? May I help you?”

“Knight-Commander Brycen.” He nodded grimly. “I wanted to offer my sincerest apologies for what my men did to you. I understand it was quite sever and I wanted you to know that I defer entirely to the Inquisitor for their punishment.”

“I see.” Ebrisa looked down briefly before setting the basket on the table and facing the man fully. “Only Knight-Captain Derrick remains imprisoned, as the others were only following his orders. Lady Inquisitor was admittedly hesitant to pardon the others, but my brother persuaded her.”

“Then please give him my thanks.”

She looked at him curiously. “I believe Ser Emery has already rejoined your men. You would be able to find him faster than I at this point.”

“Ser Emery... Trevelyan.” Brycen said slowly. “Ah. That does explain the way your templars treated him.”

“He never mentioned it?” Ebrisa felt a small pang of hurt thrum in her chest.

“Not to me, your worship, but its doubtful I would have believed his sister was the Lady Herald if he had.” Brycen chuckled slightly. “I'll keep a close eye on him for you.”

“Thank you, Knight-Commander.” She smiled warmly at him and the man nodded before walking off. Ebrisa sighed quietly and returned to setting up the bandages and ointments, hoping they would have enough for whatever was to come.

~~~~~~~~~

Ebrisa's dreams were so strange now that Renata was gone and the Fade was open to her. Spirits tried to draw from her and create visions of something happy, but she could never stay in the facade for long. After dreaming of the same place for so many years, anything but that location just felt so fake and took her out of whatever the spirits were trying to do.

She sat up from the bed roll with a sigh, unable to stay asleep through the anxiety of the looming battle weighing on her mind. Ebrisa climbed out of the small tent and stepped into the night, securing a cloak around her cotton dress. The cold affected her a lot more than it used to and she wondered if her aunt was responsible for that as well. Strange animal noises echoed out of the forest around the camp, the night almost as lively as the daytime, and the mage pondered how anyone could even sleep through that as she walked around.

Ebrisa found herself in front of Cullen's tent and she chewed on her lip before slipping inside, hoping to catch him awake so they could talk and possibly ease some of her concern. To her surprise, he was already asleep and twisting slightly in a nightmare as he mumbled. She knelt beside him and stroked his cheek, whispering soothing words until he relaxed. The mage continued to run her fingers over his face as she watched him sleep, wondering what would happen in the morning. The worry was overwhelming, but it was far less devastating than if she had remained in Skyhold.

She shifted inside the tent and lay down beside the commander, resting her head on his outstretched arm. Ebrisa studied his features, trying to memorize everything in the near darkness while she still could. He had been in lots of battles before, ones that seemed almost impossible to have survived looking back on them, and he would survive this one too. He was strong and clever and fierce and would not give up until the very, very end. She knew that. She had to believe that.

Cullen turned in his sleep, tossing an arm over her. Ebrisa stifled a gasp at the sudden closeness and took a moment to think about what to do. He mumbled incoherently and moved his hands over her back, as if trying to figure out what he was holding, before pulling her close and nestling her head under his. Cullen made a sound of approval at the new arrangement and nuzzled her hair before breathing slowly and deeply in a sound slumber.

Laying beside him, encircled in his arms and listening to his heartbeat drained all the worry from Ebrisa and calmed her racing thoughts. Is this what it felt like for him that first time they fell asleep beside each other? He had said she kept the nightmares away, which sounded like something a child would say about a favorite blanket or stuffed doll, but that's exactly what it felt like. In the little fortress Cullen created around her, Ebrisa felt as though nothing bad could ever happen.

He would survive this battle.

Anything else was impossible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cullen awoke early, well before anyone else, and turned onto his back, bringing the warm weight in his arms with him and waking it. Ebrisa and Cullen looked at each other groggily, both still trying to wake up and process the situation. The mage shot up in a panic, effectively straddling him and Cullen took a few more moments to collect his thoughts.

“Am I still dreaming, or are you actually sitting on me right now?” Either option seemed fine to his waking mind.

“No-not intentionally,” Ebrisa mumbled quietly.

The commander sat himself up, causing her to slip into his lap, and regarded her curiously. “When did you crawl in here? I think I would have remembered that fairly well.”

“You were already sleeping... I just wanted to watch you for a bit.” She looked up sheepishly, but didn't move away. “Then you grabbed me and... I dozed off.”

Cullen nearly chuckled. “Are you blaming me?”

“I didn't say I disliked the outcome... did I?” She leaned in and kissed him softly, resting a hand on his chest. Cullen hummed approvingly and deepened the kiss, slipping his fingers into her hair. He could get used to waking up this way.

They pulled apart, panting softly, and Ebrisa reluctantly climbed off his lap. It was still dark outside, but they knew the rest of camp would be moving around as well before long. Soon they would move further into the forest to hit Corypheus' army with their full force. The Inquisitor's group was expected to arrive later in the day, but by then they would have already been engaging the enemy for hours and hours. “This is our last quiet moment for a while, isn't it?” She whispered, fiddling with her amulet.

Cullen silently watched the worry creep into her features and couldn't help feeling a bit anxious himself. “It is.”

Ebrisa slipped the chain over her head and quickly put it around Cullen's neck. “I'm not giving it back, I'm letting you borrow it. You have to return it, or I'll be very cross with you.”

He stared at her for a moment, taking in the false sternness trying to mask her concern. “Then I need to leave something with you.” Cullen swiftly and gently pulled Ebrisa to lay on her back and propped himself over her. Before she had a chance to question, he captured her mouth with a passionate kiss, slipping his tongue inside and running it against hers. He slid her dress off her shoulder as she shivered and moaned into his mouth before pulling away from the kiss and sucking on the newly exposed flesh. He grinned at the bright red mark he made and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “For temporary good luck until I can return to you.” He nudged his forehead against hers lightly before pulling away. “I love you.”

She looked at him with hazy eyes and flushed cheeks. “I love you...”

The commander smiled warmly at her before letting out a deep breath and stepping outside to make ready. Ebrisa needed to get ready as well, but she just... needed a minute to collect herself first.
~~~~~~~~~~~

“These truths the Maker has revealed to me:

As there is but one world,

One life, one death, there is

But one god, and He is the Maker.

They are sinners, who have given their love

To false gods.”

Ebrisa recited loudly to the gathered forces as they made ready to engage the enemy. “Corypheus is no god. The Venatori have been deceived, like Tevinter of old, and think that the monster leading them will bring their land glory, but he can not. Corypheus, if he truly be one of the traitorous Seven, would repeat his original folly and bring doom upon the world.”

“The Seven fell from the Wellspring of Creation,

No longer creatures of the Maker's Light.

From the height of heaven they plunged,

And Tevinter saw them burn across the sky like falling stars.

Where they touched the earth,

Twisted darkness grew, poisoned by their hate.

And the clouds covered them and wept.”

The Herald paused and looked to Cullen at her side. He nodded and urged her to continue, so she took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. “We can not allow Corypheus to corrupt Thedas more than he already has. The death and destruction he has caused, the plots and treachery he has engineered - all for his own pride. We shall show him what pride has wrought. We must cast him from this world as the Maker cast him from the Golden City!”

“So Andraste said to her followers: 'You who stand before the gates,

You who have followed me into the heart of evil,

The fear of death is in your eyes; its hand is upon your throat.

Raise your voices to the heavens! Remember:

Not alone do we stand on the field of battle.

“The Maker is with us! His light shall be our banner,...

At last, the Light shall shine upon all of creation-'”

“If we are only strong enough to carry it!” Cullen called out the end of the verse, the soldiers repeating it loudly. “This is our chance to cripple the enemy, to tear down the facade of godhood Corypheus uses as a shield of fear. Do we fear him?”

The forces shouted out a unified denial.

“Will he succeed?”

Again, a booming rejection.

“Can he stop us?”

The army roared out defiantly.

The commander withdrew his sword and held it in the air. “Then let us show the enemy they chose the wrong side! To your stations!” The air was filled with cheers and shouts and clanging blades as the units moved through the forest to their designated positions. Cullen turned to the woman beside him on the makeshift platform and smirked. “I should let you rally the troops more often.”

“It felt like I was giving a sermon instead of saying something motivational,” Ebrisa mumbled. “I wasn't really sure what to do...”

“That was exactly what they needed from their Herald.” He sheathed his sword and checked quickly to see if anyone was still watching. “But I could do with a little something extra before I go.” Cullen slipped his fingers into her braided hair and kissed her quickly, but passionately on the lips. He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “Swear to me you will stay here.”

“I swear,” Ebrisa whispered softly. She willed time to stop for a them, hoping to have learned some of that time magic Dorian often spoke of, but the seconds ticked by and Cullen left her on the platform to perform his duty. She watched him go quietly as she held a hand over the covered red mark on her shoulder, telling herself over and over that he would return to her.
~~~~~~~~~~

They were running low on healing poultices already and Ebrisa was working frantically to assist in making more. She was no apothecary, but the healers gave her simple tasks to complete while they focused on the more complex elements.

“Herald? If I may have a moment of your time?” Morrigan said, suddenly behind the blonde.

Ebrisa jumped slightly before turning to face the witch, continuing to grind the elfroot. “Lady Morrigan, you're here already? Has it gotten so late?”

“We are perhaps a bit early. The Inquisitor is being debriefed at present, so I do not have long. I wanted to ask something of you... as a precaution.” Morrigan tapped her fingers on her twisted, wooden staff.

The Herald frowned and set down the stone mortar and pestle. “You look troubled – and not for the fight ahead. What ever it is you need, so long as it is within my power, I will do it.”

The dark-haired woman laughed. “I have not yet even explained myself and you agree. As a noble, you ought to be more weary of contracts and promises.”

“I know that whatever it is, it's important.” Ebrisa smiled slightly through her concern. “You do not ask favors lightly.”

“True.” Morrigan sighed and took a moment to gather her words. “Keep in mind that I do not intend to do anything foolish or self-sacrificing for your Inquisition today, but if by chance something goes awry and I do not return, I want you to look after Kieran.”

“Lady Morrigan?” Ebrisa was both surprised and honored by the request. “Surely there is someone better suited.”

“Perhaps,” The witch smiled coyly, “but Kieran likes you and I trust you with him. 'Tis not a simple task, I know, but you needn't treat him any differently than you do now. And as I said, this request is only a precaution.”

“Of course, Lady Morrigan. He will be taken care of.” Ebrisa agreed without a moment's hesitation. “But it won't come to that.”

“Indeed not.” Morrigan smirked as she walked away. “I was at the Battle of Denerim and we survived that archdemon. Why should this one be any different?”
~~~~~~~~~~

They were completely out of healing tonics and poultices now and the injured were coming in too quickly to stop and make more. Ebrisa joined the healing mages in working directly on the more sever wounds while lesser ones were only bandaged. The linen wrappings had been cleaned and boiled several times over by then and the mage couldn't fathom how they had been so ill prepared.

“Ah, Lady Herald.” Celene dipped her head respectfully at the other woman. “I wish we were meeting again under less dire circumstances.”

Ebrisa looked up from the wounded man on the cot before her. “Your Majesty. I would show you proper greetings, but if I remove pressure...”

“Are there not healers to do that?” The Empress took a small step back at the sight of the blood splattered mage.

“There are, Your Radiance, but far too few.” Ebrisa continued to focus the healing magic on the abdominal wound. “I can't stand by while our people suffer. Not while I could be doing something to aide them.”

Celene smiled beneath her mask and shook her head once. “Our Lady's compassion flows from you like a current, Herald. I shan't disturb you further from your holy endeavor.” The monarch walked away in her elegant gown, gliding over the uneven stones with little difficulty.

“My lady,” the soldier wheezed, feeling himself mostly restored. “Thank you...”

Ebrisa smiled at him and removed her hands. It wasn't as good a job as she had seen others do, but the man would live. “Rest easy, or it may reopen.” She gathered up the blood soaked linens and dropped them in a basket with the others, wobbling slightly and needing to take hold of the side of the table for a moment.

“Your worship, you push yourself too much,” one of the healers whispered in concern as she came near. “Perhaps you should rest for a while.”

“My mana is low, is all.” The Herald shook the dizziness from her head. “I will be fine after some lyrium.”

“But you've had so much already...” The healer glanced around to make sure no one over heard. “I don't mean to make presumptions on what you can handle, but based on what I've seen other mages take... I feel you should wait a bit and give your body time to build up your natural stores.”

Ebrisa rubbed her forehead, smearing more blood on herself. “I will wait then, but you must allow me to assist you in other ways.”

The healer nodded with a small smile. “Of course, your worship.” She handed the basket over. “If you could clean and boil these? We are running low on bandages again.”

“Right away.” The Herald hurried across camp to the wash station and began to scrub the soiled wrappings with the other assistants. She had to keep working, keep helping as much as possible. She couldn't give her mind the time to think. Hawke's group had rushed into the forest earlier, the army cutting a path for them through the Venatori, Red Templars, and corrupted wardens straight to the elven temple ruin. Cullen had gone to the front lines himself for the final push... Maker, that felt like forever ago. How long would they be gone?

Her hand sparked under the bloody water, thrumming in pain as it resonated with something... An angry, familiar roar rang through the trees and Ebrisa rose to her feet slowly. Corypheus' dragon. The camp paused and looked up as the beast soared over head, then circled back and began letting loose its dark fire into the forest towards them. The Ambassador stood at the edge of the treeline, directly in the path of destruction heading for the clearing.

“Josephine!” Ebrisa shouted in warning and hastily threw a barrier shield around the small group across the camp, and that was it. That was the last bit of her mana reserves. She teetered and fell over, head pounding as things began to spin. Between the exhaustion and searing pain in her hand, the Herald could handle no more and passed out.

The Antivan turned around at the shout in time to see Ebrisa cast her protective spell. The mage staggered a little, then collapsed to the rocky ground in a heap. Josephine screamed in terror as she tried to push through the shimmering dome encasing herself, Celene, and several others. She winced and shut her eyes as the heat of the dragon's breath seeped through the barrier. The magic kept the fire at bay and lessened the scorching, but it was still almost too much to bare. Celene fainted from the heat, a general scrambling to catch her, as Josephine tried desperately to see through the dragon's strangely colored fire. She could make out several bodies on the ground as the flames lessened, burnt beyond recognition at that distance, and her heart sank. “Maker, no...”

The dragon circled back for another pass over the camp, but by then the trebuchets were loaded and aimed. Boulders soared through the air and smashed into the beast, nearly causing it to drop the burden in its claws. The dragon screeched angrily, but flew off without engaging further.

The men cheered as it fled, but those close to the devastation ran around putting out fires and pulling the injured to safety. Josephine kept her eyes on the spot where the Herald fell and pressed impatiently on the clear wall until it dissipated. She rushed forward to the pile of smoking corpses and searched them for the Herald's armor, but found none of them to be in metal armor at all. They were clinging desperately to the overturned wash troth and a flicker of hope ignited in the ambassador's chest.

Josephine dug her fingers under the edge of the heavy troth and tried to lift it. “I need help here! Someone, quickly!” A few soldiers came over and pulled off the bodies, laying them respectfully to the side, before taking over for the Antivan and flipping the scorched wooden vessel over. Ebrisa lay as she had fallen, now covered in stained strips of linen. The heat of the fire had dried the diluted blood from the wash station's water, coloring her hair and dress while coating her skin and armor in cracking patches of brownish-red.

But she was alive.

Josephine wept in relief as the soldiers picked up the unconscious mage and rushed her to the infirmary, following close behind them. There were so many injured and the healers were so busy that Josephine took it upon herself to watch over Ebrisa. She could do little more than gingerly remove the still heated metal armor pieces, but she stayed at her side and watched for change intently. The Herald, being true to her nature, made a split second decision and protected others instead of herself. In that tiny moment of terror, she reacted without thinking, and she said Josephine.
~~~~~~~~~~~

When the dragon fled the field, Corypheus' forces where more than a little uneased as their master abandoned them. Cullen called for a push and the Inquisition forces took full advantage of the disheartened Ventatori before they had time to retreat. They were quickly clearing up the enemy and the Commander felt a swell of pride, until he noticed the dark plumbs of smoke coming from the direction of the main camp. Cullen called out orders to continue the assault and hurried back through the forest, cutting down enemies in his path as he went until he finally reached the large clearing.

“Commander!” A soldier saluted quickly.

“Report. What happened here?”

“The archdemon, ser. Hit us with its fire, but we chased it off before it could strike twice.” The soldier explained. “There are many dead and more injured, but we were lucky.”

“And the... the Herald?” Cullen feared the answer he would get.

“She was taken to the healers. The Lady Ambassador is with her at present.”

The commander nodded grimly and moved briskly to the infirmary, taking reports and giving orders with increasing irritation as the pit in his stomach grew. The one time she listened to him and she would have been better off disobeying. The infirmary was more than packed, those with lesser injuries moved to the ground and forced to wait for one of the overwhelmed healers to get to them.

The air caught in Cullen's throat as he saw the blood covered Ebrisa laying on the cot, recognizing her instantly despite the odd coloring of her hair and dress. Josephine looked up at his approach and took in the horror on his face. “Its not hers! She's only passed out!” The Antivan was quick to explain. “I would have cleaned her off, but water is in short supply at the moment. Once they bring in more from the river, I will wash her and get her into some clean clothes.”

“So then she's... what happened?” The commander knelt down beside the cot and brushed his thumb over the mage's cheek, cracking and sweeping away some of the dried blood.

“Magic exhaustion,” Josephine sighed. “She was assisting the healers and when their supplies ran out they resorted to magic. I'm told she worked on too many and kept taking lyrium so she could help more... a healer essentially kicked her out until she recovered on her own.” The ambassador shook her head sadly. “But then the dragon came and she... she protected me.”

Cullen smiled, despite himself. Of course she did. “That explains why she's unconscious, but not why she looks like this.”

“Ah, yes... I don't know if we should tell her when she awakes,” the Antivan began in a low voice, afraid to let the mage hear in case she suddenly woke up. “Those cleaning linens dumped the wash station over her... and they, threw themselves over it to further protect her from the flames. We... we can not even identify the bodies.”

“Commander, we've received an update from the temple.” A runner approached hesitantly with the note, unsure if he should be bothering the man right then.

Having his worry mostly resolved, Cullen rose to his feet to resume his job. “Let me see.” He read the note carefully. “It appears the Inquisitor is no longer here.” He looked at Josephine, a bit uncertain. “Morrigan said that eluvian was a gateway, yes? Well the temple is reportedly empty and the mirror shattered...”

“Then where did they go?” Josephine was just as confused as him.

Cullen hummed in annoyance. “If Corypheus left right after she did...” He looked sharply at the runner. “Send the fastest raven we have to Skyhold asking after the Inquisitor. She most likely hasn't thought of updating us here.”

Chapter Text

Josephine had wiped her off and she bathed in the river before heading home, but the entire journey back to Skyhold Ebrisa had felt the blood on her. She lay in her third bath that day, head fully submerged in the overly scented water as she scrubbed furiously at her hair until she could hold her breath no longer and shot up with a gasp. She touched her steaming skin and squeezed her dripping hair, disappointed to find it was still the same. It was still there. Their blood had seeped into her body, staining her, and it wouldn't wash off. Her skin felt tacky and hair reeked, coated in the stench of death and burning.

Hotter. The water needed to be hotter.

“She said I was being unreasonable about the mirror.” Cullen rolled his eyes as he and Hawke entered his office.

“Her kid is here Cullen. She wouldn't keep something around that could hurt Kieran,” the Inquisitor sighed. “I'd say she's right.”

“Its a legitimate concern,” he quickly defended as he spread out a map. “I'm not unreasonable...”

“Are you pouting?” Hawke grinned and folded her arms.

“Of course not. Don't be absurd.”

“So the Herald picked up smirking and you adopted the pout?” She laughed loudly as Cullen glared at her, completely devoid of amusement. Hawke took deep breaths to recover and suddenly covered her nose. “Geez, what is that? Its like someone slapped me in the face with a bouquet.”

The commander looked around curiously as he began to smell the odd mixture of fragrances as well. There was certainly nothing in his office to be giving off any scents like that and the only thing he knew of were Ebrisa's bath oils, but he shouldn't be able to smell them outside of her room. He opened the side door and stared at the vapors slipping out from the cracks around the mage's door. She wasn't still in there, was she?

“What is that? Smoke?” Hawke rushed across the walkway to the other room and felt the moisture collect on her hands. “Steam?” She opened the unlocked door and braced against the wave of perfumed vapor slipping from the personal quarters. Cullen pushed past her and into the room, navigating the haze with familiarity, and going straight to the tub.

The water was practically boiling around the unconscious mage and her head had slipped well beneath the surface. Cullen made a desperate grab for her, but his hands retracted immediately from the scorching water. He cursed loudly at the sting and braced himself to try again.

“Move!” Hawke shoved him out of the way and plunged her arms into the tub, pulling Ebrisa out and tossing her to the man. She shook the steaming water from her own limbs, the resistance she gained from the oasis temple only helping her slightly. Her skin wouldn't blister, but was certainly going to be tender and red for a while.

The jolt from impacting against Cullen shook the water loose from her lungs and the mage began coughing furiously as he held her in his arms. Cullen could feel the heat radiating from Ebrisa like the steam circling the air, but her skin wasn't even red. He would have thought it the work of her aunt's spirit, but he knew her to be long gone.

Hawke tore down the tapestries from the windows and opened the far door to let more cold air into the room and be rid of the scented fog. “Does she do this a lot?”

“No, never.” Cullen wrapped a towel around the still coughing mage, supporting her as she tried to remove the last bit of water.

“Good, because, damn!” The Inquisitor shook her arms again, feeling an unpleasant tingling prickle over her skin. “I'm going to get this looked at before it gets any worse. Yell at her for me, would you?” With that, she rushed out of the room and slammed the main door, pulling a waft of steam after her.

The chilly cross breeze cleared the room as Cullen waited for the Herald to fully recover. The only way the water could have gotten so hot was if she had used magic to super heat it, he just couldn't figure out why. She had never used her magic for anything so frivolous before and it made no sense to start doing so now.

“I... I can still feel it, Cullen,” Ebrisa began, her voice slightly raspy. “Their blood all over me. They died. They died and its my fault.”

He shifted her position to hold her comfortingly against his chest and sighed heavily. “You did not ask those people to sacrifice themselves for you. They gave themselves willingly and without thought – like you so often do. You didn't kill them.”

“Yes I did! Everyone the dragon killed at camp died because of me – because I was there!” Ebrisa tried to pull away from the commander, but he held her firmly in his embrace.

“I'm fairly certain that was more Corypheus' doing than yours.”

“No, Cullen, he was coming for me. He knew I was there,” she whispered, clutching her left hand closed so tightly that her fingernails bite into her flesh. “He said before that the Anchor is a beacon and I felt it aching like when he tried to rip it from me in Haven. If I had just listened to you... if I had stayed behind..”

“Then he may have attacked the undefended fortress and harmed those here,” Cullen reasoned. “The ones who didn't agree to fight, who couldn't fight. Would that have been better?”

“It... no,” Ebrisa mumbled.

“If Corypheus attacked the camp because of you, then he was going to attack no matter where you were. That doesn't make it your fault.” He brushed her rapidly cooling hair back with his fingers. “And from what I understand, you were working quite diligently at the infirmary. You likely saved more throughout the day then were lost in that blast of fire. Our forces did far better than I expected – it was a major victory at Mythal.”

The mage began to shiver against him. “Neither you nor Emery were injured and the Inquisitor kept Corypheus from his goal... I should focus on that.”

“You can mourn for those we lost, but don't blame yourself. I've given several prayers in their remembrance myself.” The commander tightened his grip on Ebrisa, holding her protectively against him. “And I've... I've prayed for you as well.”

“Cullen?” She tried to look up at him, but he held her in place so firmly she could barely move.

“We crippled his forces - he's practically finished - but I fear that will only make Corypheus desperate.” He let out a strained breath. “We still aren't certain how to stop the monster from reviving or what else he may be capable of. Desperate men are unpredictable... Andraste preserve me, what if he does come for you? What if he needs the power from your mark and storms Skyhold to get it? Our forces are barely making their way back and even if it is only himself and that dragon... would we be able to stop him?”

He was scared to lose her. Maker, he was terrified. So much was uncertain as the end drew closer and Cullen cursed himself everyday for all the time he wasted not being with Ebrisa. He had held back and denied his feelings because he was unsure he was allowed them, if they were appropriate. He could have had so much more time with her, could have shared so many moments... but he was scared then too.

“Then give it back.” Ebrisa's words snapped him to attention.

“What?” He loosened his grip to meet her eyes.

“The coin,” she explained, trying to frown as she trembled. “I said you could borrow it, but you have yet to return it. I need my good luck back.”

Cullen couldn't help but smirk as she held out her hand impatiently. “How right you are.” He released her fully and stepped back, slipping the chain over his head and returning it to its rightful place around the mage. Her hair was slightly crunchy in parts and he regarded her curiously as she pulled it away from the chain with a shaking hand and it suddenly dawned on him.

“Maker's Breath, you must be freezing by now.” Cullen shut the door before ushering her under the covers of her bed. “Why didn't you say something?”

“It... it seemed of little concern by comparison,” Ebrisa stuttered, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “And its awkward to talk like this...”

“I'll take awkward over illness, if you don't mind.” He sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed his hands over her cheeks, trying to instil them with warmth. “There you go putting your needs below others again. You really need to stop that.”

She smiled at him and placed her own hands on his face. “When it comes to you? Never.” The mage tugged him forward slightly and he took the hint, moving a hand to the mattress for support as he leaned in and kissed her.
~~~~~~~~~

Skyhold was ever so slowly getting back to normal. Cullen had managed to set up a fairly strong defense with the few numbers they had and everyone had taken something different from their experience in the Arbor Wilds. Ebrisa was on her way to the main library, as the lower room had barely been touched for translations, when she walked in on the Inquisitor arguing loudly with Solas.

“Those elves attacked us first!” Hawke shouted angrily. “They could have just let us through to take out the Venatori, but no, they engaged us! What was I supposed to do? Let them kill me?”

“You could have reasoned with them! They were only defending their temple – a task they had been doing for ages!” Solas shot back.

“I tried, damn it, I did. But they were more stubborn and full of themselves than you, something I didn't think anyone could accomplish!” Hawke spat out. “You've never liked a single decision I've made, always there after the fact to belittle my choices as though you could do better. Templars were oppressive, Grey Wardens were crazy cultists – why stick around if you don't like the company I keep?”

The elf glared intently at the woman. “I should thank you, Inquisitor. I had spent time with few of your people before this. From the stories, I thought you all thuggish, simple, and crude. Now?” He waved a hand through the air and turned away briefly. “Now I know I as right. You have no idea what a comfort that is.”

Hawke growled and slugged Solas across the face, knocking him off balance and sending him into a turn. Ebrisa covered her mouth to stifle her scream but the Inquisitor heard and turned in surprise to the doorway as Solas caught himself. “Shit,” Hawke grumbled as she shook her hand and moved past the Herald out of the rotunda.

“How entirely expected,” Solas mumbled bitterly, holding his cheek.

“Master Solas, are you alright?” Ebrisa moved quickly to his side, eyes wide. “I'm so sorry. If I had known she was going to hit you, I would have tried to stop her.”

He let out a single puff of laughter at her concern. “How is it that a demigod shows more humanity than a champion of the people?”

“I...” Ebrisa didn't know how to respond to that.

“Apologies, Herald.” Solas sighed, straightening himself and dropping his hand. “You did not come here to witness that. Did you need something?”

“Oh, I...” the woman suddenly felt awkward. “I was looking for more information on Mythal. I know much of elven history is lost and that Sister Leliana has people researching the temple, but I fear for Lady Morrigan.” She looked down, face wrinkling in concern. “The Well of Sorrows... did something to her. She tries to hide it, but I've seen her staring off into the sky and mumbling. I've only caught pieces... suledin... ma nuvenin... Mythal'enaste... She knows elven, yes, but I've never seen her muttering it to herself before.”

Solas tapped his fingers to his chin and regarded the Herald curiously. “And what is it you hope to discover? A way to undo the binding?”

“The Well was created by the ancient elves. We couldn't begin to understand how to undo the magic there, and even if we could, separating Lady Morrigan would likely cause all those gathered wills to vanish.” She sighed heavily and shook her head. “To destroy so many souls to save one? No.” Ebrisa turned back to Solas. “I wanted to know more about Mythal. If she would misuse Lady Morrigan, force her to do something against her nature.”

“So you believe the elven gods to be real?” He raised a brow.

“Not as gods, but something was surely there for the elves to worship. Spirits, perhaps?”

“I have heard Sera and Vivienne claim demons.” Solas waited to gauge her reaction.

She laughed. “I never took demonology and only know what I have seen and read myself recently, but I do not think the ancient elves worshiped demons. Crafty as they may be, no malicious spirit could fool so many people for so long.”

Solas smiled slowly and inclined his head. “Mythal was the first, the Mother. She was protective and loving, but also vengeful against those who harmed her children. Just as any mother would be.”

Ebrisa sighed, seemingly satisfied. “So Master Kieran will be safe, even if Lady Morrigan looses herself to the voices of the Well.”

“I feel I must apologize again.” Solas looked away, a tinge of shame in his eyes. “I let my anger at the Inquisitor blind me and I spoke out against humans. She is not the norm of your people, but neither are you.”

“Master Solas?”

“You have repeatedly surprised me. I had thought your original closed mindedness was your nature, but it was only a conditioning of your sheltered upbringing.” He turned back to her slowly. “The more you were exposed to the world, the more you wanted to learn. The more you knew, the more you wanted to truly understand. I'm not sure if its because of what you've endured in your life, but I hope you inspire more people to be like you, Elgara'len.”

Chapter Text

Ebrisa tried her best to slip past the smiths in the armory and climb the stairs unnoticed. Cassandra was still hesitant to allow her book preferences to become public knowledge, and so the two readers would sneak around and meet up for an hour or two to continue Varric's story. The mage kept the manuscript safely in her room and swore to not read ahead, no matter how tempting it was. Though the Seeker had started out rather unimpressed by the Herald back in Haven, Ebrisa hoped that the Nevarran's perception of her had changed. She wasn't sure if they could be called friends, but at the very least she was a confidant now, right?

“Seeker Pentaghast, are you ready?” Ebrisa whispered from the top of the stairs.

Cassandra started slightly and looked up from the table, tearing her eyes away from the worn tome before her. “Oh. Herald.” Cassandra cleared her throat. “As much as I would enjoy the distraction, I believe I have had my fill of reading for today.” She lowered her gaze back to the book on the table, suddenly seeming very weary. “Perhaps another time...”

She wanted to be alone, Ebrisa could see that, but the dark-haired woman already looked far too lonely. The mage stepped into the loft and took the seat across from Cassandra, setting the romance serial to the side. “No reading then.”

The Nevarran looked up at her curiously, waiting for the mage to explain herself, but Ebrisa merely sat there. The Herald didn't stare expectantly or demand a reason for delaying their reading session, she just smiled softly at the warrior. Cassandra felt her resolve slipping little by little until she finally sighed heavily and slid her book forward. “This contains the history and secrets of the Seekers of Truth and it has been passed down from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker since the order's founding. When the Inquisitor helped me track down other Seekers weeks ago, we found that Lord Seeker Lucius went to Corypheus' side willingly.”

“So the envy demon at Therinfall Redoubt didn't kill him? The Lord Seeker let himself be copied?” Ebrisa shivered at the idea.

“Worse than that, he summoned the others one by one and tried to turn them to his side – to the cult he belonged to. Those who would not, were killed... in terrible ways.” Cassandra held her head in her hands, trying to control her anger. Ebrisa reached out to touch her arm, but the seeker straightened suddenly, failing to notice the action. “He said the book made him change. The truth drove him mad. I think I am beginning to see why...”

“Seeker Pentaghast, what do you mean by that?” The mage furrowed her brow in concern.

“The Seekers of Truth were formed from the old Inquisition, created with a righteous purpose and holy mission.” Cassandra lowered her head in shame. “But we did not stay that way. Over time, even we became corrupt. There are some things in here that should never see the light of day and others that the whole world should know, but I can no longer tell them apart. At least the fall of my order was our own doing.”

Ebrisa was quiet for a long while, carefully considering what she'd just heard and trying to figure out the best way to arrange her thoughts. “You have done nothing wrong, Seeker Pentaghast. You've served the Maker faithfully, despite the darkness that may dwell in the order's past or leaders. The fact that you are so distraught by all this proves you remain righteous. You said those who would not waver were killed, so there were others who clung to their holy mission, who did not falter in the face of the truth. There must be other Seekers still out there.” She reached for the other woman's arm again, this time making contact. “Truth is neither good or bad, it simply is. We can't predict how others will react to it, but what we can do is offer it to them.”

Cassandra slowly looked into the mage's eyes, seeing the sincerity. “You do not think we should be disbanded?”

“Can you truly say that the wrongs in this book outweigh the good the Seekers of Truth have done for Thedas? That you no longer have faith in yourself?”

“I...” Cassandra let out a sigh. “I can not.”

The Herald nodded. “Then I hope your fellows feel the same.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Josephine slowly worked her way through the letters on her desk, each from a different noble house offering congratulations at the Inquisition's success in the Arbor Wilds. She gave the same lofty reply to each, the whole procedure becoming mundane from repetition. When she opened a letter from Ostwick, she expected much the same. The message did indeed start as the others had, but as she read on it shifted dramatically and Josephine covered her mouth to keep from squealing. This letter was not meant for her or the Inquisition, it was for their commander.

She scrambled with her candle and tried to mend the broken seal in an attempt to hide the fact she opened the letter she now noticed was clearly marked for Cullen. It wasn't on purpose, after all, the fault lay with whomever brought her the thing incorrectly. Josephine set down her heated letter opener and gave up. Considering how she couldn't keep the grin from her face, she decided to be honest with the man and deliver the letter personally. And she had questions for him. Many, many questions.

Cullen sat at his desk trying to determine the best patrol routes to assign the returning templars. It wasn't the sort of work they were used to, certainly, but everyone had to pitch in with their numbers so dismal. They needed to be more vigilant now than ever.

“Commander!” Josephine burst through the door with all the pent up excitement she'd gained on the walk over. “Oh, pardon.” She backed out sheepishly and knocked instead.

“Come in?” Cullen was a bit put off by the woman's strange behavior.

Josephine walked in again and closed the door behind herself, trying to hide her devious grin. “A letter for you found its way to my desk. I'm afraid I read it by mistake.”

Cullen took the parchment with a sense of dread. “You have that look, Lady Ambassador. I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“You should, though I know you have little love for nobility.” She giggled behind her hand. “Most nobility.”

He coughed and tried to hide his slight blush behind the letter as he read it quietly out loud.

“Commander Cullen Rutherford, I understand your efforts against the Tevinter cultists and its blighted master lead to a substantial victory in southern Orlais recently. Would that I had been there to assist your Inquisition's noble cause, but I am well past my fighting prime. Congratulations are in order for your military mind and personal fighting prowess.” Cullen looked at Josephine with mild annoyance. She rushed over just for a compliment? This hardly seemed worth the effort, but the Antivan urged him to keep reading.

“Moving on to the more pressing issue of my daughter. I appreciate your concern for her and shall remain eternally grateful for all you have done for my youngest. Ebrisa is truly fortunate you were there when my wife became unstable. Galatea did mention you after her first visit to Skyhold and was impressed with what a man of such humble beginnings had become. My wife did not say it in so many words, but after all these years I know her well enough to catch her meaning. Or I thought I knew her.” A formal response to Lady Trevelyan's attack, then. But why so late?

“That being said, I can not grant my blessing so easily. I had thought my child forever lost to me in service to the Maker, but now that she can have a proper life, I would see she gets it. I have noted and officially recognized your petition of-” Cullen paused as his eyes widened slightly. “Petition of marriage for Ebrisa Amelisse Trevelyan. Let us see how well you do in the process to come. Bann Randyll Trevelyan...” He stared at the letter in confusion, trying to make sense of it.

“Oh, Commander, I am so proud of you!” Josephine clasped her hands together excitedly. “Approaching her father for permission was something I didn't think you would bother with, and that would have just caused an onslaught of headaches down the road.”

“But I didn't write to Bann Trevelyan about Ebrisa or, well, anything.”

She frowned. “So you don't intend to marry her?”

“No, I do...” Cullen mumbled, avoiding the gleeful expression on Josephine's face. “But I didn't write anyone about it. I didn't think I had to.”

“Well lucky for you someone else did.” The woman tilted her head. “Without the proper steps being taken, the marriage could be nullified.”

That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. “Are you quite serious?”

The door swung open again and Emery saluted in greetings. “Commander. My unit has just returned and await your orders.” He smirked as he noticed the familiar seal on the back of the parchment in Cullen's hand. “Father replied already? That's a good sign. The man detests writing.”

“It was you who wrote Bann Trevelyan, Ser Emery?” Josephine raised her brow in surprise.

“After hearing more about the Commander's... shall we say, lack of patience for ceremony, I decided to initiate the petition on his behalf.” The red head grinned at the ambassador. “Did he really duel two nobles for my sister?”

“Well, only one was an official duel.” Josephine grinned back. “You see, there were these rumors-”

“Ser Emery, I did not tell you my intent so you could spread it around,” Cullen cut in, trying to mask his embarrassment with annoyance.

The noble turned to his commander with his own mild irritation. “Are you serious about your desire to wed Ebrisa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want the marriage to be official and binding? Fully recognized across Thedas?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“Then there are certain rules you must abide by!” Emery snapped, tossing a hand into the air. “She is noble born and now practically a religious figure. You did not think you could just snatch her up and be done with it, did you?”

“I... I didn't think much of the betrothal portion,” Cullen admitted quietly. “Does it mean nothing that we love one another?”

The red head's expression softened. “It does, it means a great deal. When Father sees the two of you, I'm certain he'll agree.”

“When he...?”

“Come now, Commander,”Josephine sighed. “Meeting the parents of your intended is common in all proceedings. Its only natural.”

“There are a few other things that must be attended to first,” Emery continued, folding his arms and looking to the ambassador. “If the good Lady Montilyet would assist?”

“I would be honored.” She grinned widely and dipped her head as the two left the office, leaving Cullen with a baffling array of emotions to sift through.

He should be grateful, he supposed, that Emery and Josephine knew so much about the procedural side of Ostwick noble engagements and were willing to take some of it off his hands, but the fact that it was there at all drove him mad. He wasn't after Ebrisa's title or holdings, just her. Must there be so many obstacles if he only wanted her? There would be parts he would have to do himself, like meeting with her father, and Cullen was concerned he may say something wrong and ruin the whole arrangement.

Part of him did just want to sweep Ebrisa up in his arms when the time came and take her to a small Chantry somewhere and have a simple ceremony before the Maker. But he couldn't do that. Ebrisa had spent so much of her life hiding who she was – though not by her own design – and he wouldn't add to that by ignoring the traditions and steps required for her to be recognized officially as his wife. He didn't want her to hide anymore. He wanted all of Thedas to know that she was Ebrisa Amelisse Trevelyan... Rutherford. When the time came.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It occurred to Ebrisa that if the Anchor was a beacon for the Foci Corypheus carried and he could use it to find her that the reverse may be true. She had spent hours on end utilizing what Solas had taught her of the Fade itself to try and reach through the mark and search, each second she spent forcing her will into the gash sending a flicker of pain up her arm. The ache built up to near unbearable levels and she would need to stop without making any progress. Solas told her that agitating the mark was dangerous and fool hearty, but he was not the only one with knowledge on the ancient elves.

After taking a good rest, the Herald approached Morrigan in the garden with the hopes the older woman may know something more. “So you wish to take the fight to him before he can muster an assault against us? Are you so eager for bloodshed?” The witch smirked and shook her head.

“It is needless bloodshed I try to avoid, Lady Morrigan.” Ebrisa frowned in concern. “We do not know when he will strike or where, so what is to stop him from hitting us here? How can we protect everyone then? People joined the Inquisition to help, but not everyone is here to fight – workers, merchants, nobles... Kieran.”

Morrigan shifted on her feet and folded her arms. “You do have a point, Herald, and this idea of yours is not without merit. I shall ask the voices of the Well.” She closed her eyes and stood still, her expressions shifting mildly as she conversed with the souls of ages past.

Ebrisa stood before her awkwardly, unsure of what to do while she waited. She looked over at Kieran as he walked up to her and smiled softly. “How are you today, Master Kieran?”

“Its quiet for you now.” He looked her over sadly. “She's gone. You miss her.”

The Herald sighed and placed a hand over her heart. “She was my aunt. She died because she wanted to meet me, she didn't pass on because she wanted to watch over me, she became wrath because she wanted to protect me, she... she was always there and I just didn't understand.”

The boy gave her a hug around the waist. “I'm sorry that you're lonely.”

She patted his head gently. “I feel it the most when I'm dreaming, but I'm slowly getting used to it. There are some nights I don't feel sad at all...” Ebrisa blushed slightly before continuing. “When I don't fall asleep by myself, I can feel the other person's presence in the Fade and actually have happy dreams.”

Kieran stepped away and tilted his head. “So you won't be sad forever?”

The Herald smiled warmly, her face still flushed. “I won't. There are people in the waking world who care for and protect me, too. Like you.” She tapped his nose and made the boy laugh.

“Good. I don't like it when you're sad. It feels wrong.” Kieran sighed in relief. He straightened suddenly and moved briskly away without a word.

“Master Kieran?” The boy ignored her call and kept walking off. “Master Kieran!” Ebrisa followed after him, concerned by his strange behavior, and continued to try and speak to him. Kieran entered a side room and stood before a large mirror, waving his hands over the glass and sparking the surface to life with an eerie blue light. He slipped through and Ebrisa hesitated only a moment before chasing after.

She gasped loudly as she stepped out into the Fade and a shiver ran through her. Without a spirit guide, they could easily become lost. She had to get Kieran and go back while their passage was still open. Ebrisa squashed her fear of becoming trapped with her concern for Kieran and hurried to catch up with the boy before she lost sight of him all together.

“She says its time,” Kieran said softly as he navigated the twisted paths effortlessly.

“Who does? The one who brought us here?” The mage took hold of his hand to prevent becoming separated.

“She didn't bring us here. The one inside let me control the eluvian.”

“Inside... you?” Ebrisa glanced at the child. “Is that how you knew about my aunt?”

“Yes. It tells me things, shows me dreams... not nice dreams.” He hung his head for a moment before looking up at the woman. “Its always been there, but I don't always understand it. Sometimes it scares me.”

She chewed her lip in thought. “Has it ever hurt you or asked you to do something?”

Kieran shook his head as they turned a corner.

“Then you shouldn't fear it just because you don't understand it.”

“That is quite the sentiment, girl,” an unfamiliar voice laughed from down the path.

Ebrisa looked up to see an elderly woman, finding her sharp and aggressive armor contradictory to her amused and serene face. Kieran pulled forward towards the woman, but the mage held his hand tightly and continued to approach cautiously. “Who are you? Did you call Master Kieran?”

“I have had many names throughout the ages,” the woman began with a smirk. “The Dalish know me as Asha'bellanar, the Fereldan's as Flemeth, and to Kieran I am Grandmother.”

The boy broke from Ebrisa's weakened grasp and hurried to the older woman, giving her an eager hug. “You wanted to see it?”

“Yes, dear boy. Would you show me your friend before we go?” Flemeth smiled affectionately at the child.

Not knowing what to do, Ebrisa watched silently as the other woman knelt down and Kieran formed a glowing blue wisp in his hand. Flemeth closed her eyes and felt the waves of power from the growing brightness before her. Despite not understanding what was happening, the Herald knew the older woman would not harm the child. Whatever her goal was, it did not involve anything menacing towards the boy.

Morrigan ran up to them, out of breath and baffled as she stared at the old woman. Kieran closed his hand and set away the blue light, smiling happily as he turned to her. “Mother!”

The witch sighed in relief to see the boy unharmed before narrowing her eyes at the white-haired woman. “Mother.”

Flemeth rose to her feet with a smirk. “Now, isn't this a surprise.”

“Let him go, you vile thing!” Morrigan spat.

“Lady Morrigan,” Ebrisa began. “She wasn't doing-”

“As if you could know what she does, what she has done.” The witch glared at the Herald. “I'm glad you did not need to fulfill your promise to me if this is how you would take care of my son.”

Ebrisa looked down, feeling ashamed, despite not having done anything.

“Do not take it to heart, girl. Morrigan has always been ungrateful.” Flemeth sighed.

“Ungrateful?!” The witch threw her hands in the air. “I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone!” She pointed defiantly at her mother. “You will not have me, and you will not have my son!” She gathered energy into her hands and moved to attack.

The Herald glanced quickly back and forth between the two. “Lady Morrigan, wait!”

Chapter Text

In the end, the Herald could not figure out a way to find the blighted magister and each day was spent anxiously waiting for him to make his move. She stayed with Cullen as much as possible, not wanting to lose him in a sudden chaos, and found herself talking less and less just so she could memorize everything about him. The rhythm of his breathing, the way he squinted while reading something he found irritating, the sound of his writing, the weight of his hand on her cheek, the taste of his lips... Things she must have experienced dozens of times if not more, but was afraid to lose or forget.

Despite having part of him taken away, Kieran seemed to be unchanged. He said he felt lonely, but grinned and remarked that he knew it wouldn't last forever. Morrigan was still reeling from the fact that not only did her mother carry an ancient elven goddess inside her, but she was bound to the old woman as a servant of Mythal. The Well of Sorrows had succeeded in devising a plan to match Corypheus' dragon and the witch was currently explaining the process to the war council as Ebrisa sat in the hall outside the room.

“Perhaps we could mount an expedition to the deep roads?” Josephine suggested as they tried to figure out where Corypheus was hiding. “We could send envoys to Orzammar-”

A startled shout from the hall cut her off and they moved towards the door. A sudden flash of light erupted through the windows and the war council turned back to watch as the Breach tore open once again. “Looks like he came to us...” Hawke muttered as she stared. “He's in the Valley of Sacred Ashes.”

“This Breach is different,” Morrigan mused. “Before twas but an accident, but this is intentional, aggressive. It will swallow the world if left unchecked, and quickly.”

“So we need to get over there, defeat Corypheus, and close the Breach as soon as possible.” Hawke sighed. “Marvelous.”

“We don't have any forces to send with you.” Cullen frowned, trying to recall what patrols where in the area who could assist. “We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds.”

The Inquisitor set her jaw and glared out the window. “He knows that. And he knows we can't wait.” She turned around sharply and threw open the doors, the others following her.

Ebrisa stood at the break in the wall, bathed in eerie green light as her hand sparked madly and she gazed at the torn sky. She turned to them slowly, face wracked with worry. “Its growing, hungry. We have to stop it.”

“And we will.” Hawke grabbed hold of the blonde's arm and marched through the keep, shouting out orders and gathering her inner circle as they moved to the stables and mounted up. “Here's the plan. We go kill the blighted bastard after Morrigan takes out his damn dragon. Once the area is secure and Corypheus is finally as dead as dead can be, the Herald will close the Breach.”

“There should be a templar patrol close by that may have already engaged the enemy,” Cullen added as he double checked his equipment. “We don't know how many demons could have already slipped through, but let us worry about them and you focus on Corypheus.”

The Inquisitor waved her people forward and they charged through the gates as Cullen climbed up behind Ebrisa on the hart and took the reigns from her. She turned to him curiously as he began to follow the others. “I know he doesn't normally allow others to ride him, but we are short on mounts and I am coming with you. Besides, Rufous and I have an understanding when you're involved.” The hart nickered in agreement as they headed for the glowing tear in the sky.

All their waiting, all their planning, and it boiled down to the Inquisitor's group facing the corrupted magister alone. Though he had no forces to command, Cullen vowed to do everything in his power to support the Inquisitor. He tightened his grip on the woman before him and held her close. And he would protect his love with his very being.

They arrived at the ruins centered beneath the Breach to find Corypheus gloating and templars desperately fighting demons. The inner circle dismounted quickly and jumped into the fray, Cassandra cutting down a terror as it reared back to strike at an unbalanced knight. “Thank the Maker you've arrived,” Emery sighed as he quickly climbed back to his feet, holding a hand to his bleeding side. “It was so sudden, we didn't have time to send word for backup.”

“Well we're all the backup you're getting, I'm afraid.” Hawke unsheathed her greatsword and marched towards the ancient Tevinter. “But we are more than enough for him.”

“Ah, Inquisitor.” Corypheus grinned wickedly. “I don't know if I ever thanked you for freeing me from that infernal prison cell. I do appreciate your help in my conquest.”

“It was just so much fun killing you, I thought I'd do it again,” she sneered.

“And you brought the thief pretender with you as well?” The magister smirked at Ebrisa as she rushed to check on her brother. “So thoughtful of you to gather so many gnats before me.” He held the orb aloft, crackling with angry red energy and jerked it back suddenly. The Herald was ripped from Emery by an invisible hand on the Anchor and she skittered across the ground towards Corypheus, rolling to a stop at a boulder.

Cullen rushed to her side instantly and looked her over for injuries as the ground began to shake, Corypheus' laughter booming off the floating rocks rising around them. The earth split apart and the commander refused to let Ebrisa be torn away from him, but he had no balance or time to make a successful hold and she slipped from his grasp. Cullen clawed at the rocks as they broke away until he slid off and hit the solid ground below. She called out to him, but her voice was lost in the noise of crashing rubble as huge sections of the ruins lifted high into the air.

Ebrisa raised herself up on the floating stone and looked around to find Hawke, Varric, Solas, and Blackwall slaying demons and dodging Corypheus' attacks as his corrupted dragon loomed over head. Another dragon swooped out of the air and tackled it, removing the beast from the battle all together. Morrigan. “You dare,” the magister growled.

“I'll do more than that!” Hawke shouted as she made contact with the creature and sent him to the ground briefly. He rose back up and released another barrage of corrupted fire, causing the Inquisitor to roll to the side and hide behind a broken section of wall.

Ebrisa shook the shock away and rose to her feet to help, pausing at the sight of something unexpected. She touched the amulet below her bodice and smiled before bending down and picking up Cullen's sword. Now she had her luck and her armor. Holding the blade in her right hand, she cast barriers over the others with her left. Blackwall looked at her in surprise, not realizing she was there, and made as if to move to her side. “No, focus on fighting!” She shouted. “Don't worry about me. You must end this!”

“And what do you think we're trying to do here?” Varric nearly laughed as he shot off a wave of bolts.

They ever so slowly wore Corypheus down, forcing him to retreat further and further into the ruins. It seemed as though they might actually have the upper hand and Hawke reared back her blade to deal a decisive blow as rubble fell down around them. “Hawke!” Ebrisa shouted before Fade-stepping over and dragging the Inquisitor as far away as she could.

Before she had a chance to get angry, Corypheus' dragon slammed to the rocks behind them. “Ah. Falling monster that would have crushed me.” Hawke let out a small, strained laugh. “Nice save, Herald.” She got her her feet, then turned sharply to the mage. “Wait. Did you just-?”

“I'm going to check Lady Morrigan!” The Herald dashed off to the far side of the platform after dropping barriers on the party.

“Guess not!” Hawke rolled back her shoulders and charged at the dragon before it could unleash its first breath of fire.

Ebrisa turned the unconscious mage onto her back and checked for mortal wounds. Luckily, even the witch's worst injury wasn't life threatening. Ebrisa pulled her behind cover to keep it that way. She returned to the fight to keep supporting the others, as she had never fought a dragon before and couldn't very well start while so ill-prepared.

By now dragon-slaying had become second nature to the Inquisitor and she treated the corrupted dragon like any other prey, save being more mindful of the blood. She and Blackwall held its attention, darting between its legs and making it run in circles as Varric and Solas rained down bolts and ice, with the occasional rock fist bursting through the Veil. Ebrisa watched them in wonder, feeling she was doing very little to actually help, as she stepped out from behind the broken wall to cast a new barrier over the warriors.

The dragon reared back its head and Hawke shouted at the others. “Roll!” The group dove out of the way to safety as the beast unleashed its corrupted fire across the platform. Ebrisa, unfamiliar with their dragon-slaying tactics, went to move too late and cried out as the blast knocked her back. The Inquisitor's eyes widened at she witnessed the Herald become engulfed in flames and felt her heart drop. “Herald?” Hawke spun around, roaring in anger and hacked at the fire-spewing monster. “You bitch! I'll fucking destroy you!” The dragon stopped its breath to kick at the enraged warrior, knocking her back.

The others quickly rejoined her and together they continued the usual routine, but with more aggression and less care as the anger blinded them. They became too hasty and got too close, allowing the weakened dragon to swing around and knock them all back rather solidly with its tail. Blackwall pulled himself towards his dropped sword with a groan, trying to get back to his feet and end the creature.

“For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.”

Blackwall looked up as the figure walked past with singed boots and a blackened, tattered dress.

“As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,

She should see fire and go toward Light.”

Solas stood up, leaning on his staff and watched silently as the chanting woman approached the dragon.

“The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,”

Varric shook his head and laughed as he reloaded Bianca.

“And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker

Shall be her beacon and her shield.”

Hawke stared at the Herald in disbelief as the mage held the glowing templar sword in both hands and pulled it back to her shoulder, ready to strike.

“Her foundation.”

The dragon roared and lunged its head down as if to snatch the woman in its jaws.

“And her sword!” Ebrisa Fade-stepped slightly to avoid the snapping teeth and plunged the blade into the beast's neck, crying out as she strained to slice down the length in a weaker magical propulsion until there was a sizable, gushing wound. Blood bubbled from the slice and the dragon gurgled in pain before falling to the side, dead. A crackling red light left the limp beast and drifted up to the magister further up the ruins.

“Holy shit, Sunshine!” Varric slapped the mage on the back and laughed.

“As much as I want to know what just happened, I'm afraid we don't have the time to ask any questions right now.” Hawke glared up the winding, broken steps. “We killed his pet, so its time to make him join it.”

Corypheus growled in anger as he held the orb above him. “Let it end here! Let the skies boil! Let the world be rent asunder!”

“You heard the man.” Blackwall smacked his shield with his sword. “Let it end here.” They rushed up the stairs, keeping an eye out for hiding demons as they turned corners, but they found nothing save the corrupted magister awaiting them at the very top.

Ebrisa paused at the size of the Breach as the others dropped down the ledge to engage Corypheus once more. It had gotten so big, so threatening. If it kept expanding like this, it might be too large for her to close. She shook her head and tightened her grip on Cullen's sword.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,

I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm.

I shall endure.

What You have created, no one can tear asunder.”

She dropped to the lower floor and hurried up the platform. Corypheus had his hands full with Hawke and the others, leaving the foci hovering in the air and powering the Breach's growth. Ebrisa glanced at the fight quickly before rushing underneath the orb and trying to connect with it. The green energy of the Fade fought against the corrupted energy emanating from the orb and the mage held back a cry of pain as she felt the tainted power overtake her. The ancient Tevinter must have instilled his own blighted essence into the foci, but she had fought back the Blight before.

Ebrisa willed harder, pushing the purity of the Fade's essence to the orb and began to cleanse it. She could sense it working, but so could he. Corypheus shouted in anger as he turned to her and swept his arms forward, dragging walls of corrupted fire around the mage. She could feel the heat of the attack, the strange tingling of the blighted flames, but it did not harm her. Like with the dragon's breath before, it tore at her clothes and whipped around her loose hair, but left her unscathed. She glared at the monster defiantly as she continued to purify the elven artifact.

“Though all before me is shadow,

Yet shall the Maker be my guide.”

Hawke stabbed Corypheus in the back, not able to get very deep before he turned around and swatted her away. Varric fired repeatedly, keeping the monster's attention to give Ebrisa more time.

“I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

For there is no darkness in the Maker's... Light...”

The Herald braced against the strain, but finally managed to rid the foci of the corrupted power and it fell down into her hands, glowing green again at last.

“And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

Blackwall knocked Corypheus back with shield, sending him unbalanced right into the Inquisitor's path as she swung her greatsword and cut the creature in half. She held down the top portion with her boot and stabbed down into its head with a loud, angry yell. They waited and watched, but nothing happened. Corypheus lay in pieces. He was dead. “And stay that way this time.” Hawke grumbled, spitting on the magister.

Ebrisa held the foci aloft with her left hand and closed her eyes, connecting to the Breach above. She felt the pull like never before and for a moment feared it would take her away. She pushed the worry aside and focused on closing the massive tear. “Stop. Close. Seal.” She repeated in her mind over and over, unsure what command would work as the energy from the orb coated the sky. Then, with a loud bang and a swirl of clouds, the Breach was closed for the second time. The mage fell to her knees in exhaustion, the foci rolling out of her weary hand as boulders began to come crashing down around them.

“Shit. Hold on to something!” Hawke called out. “We're going down!”

Blackwall scrambled to the tired Herald and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to an archway. “I've got you, my lady. Hang on, now.” He braced her against the stone with one arm and set the other against the low arc as everything teetered and wind whipped around them. Ebrisa did hang on, with one arm wrapped around her friend and the other tightly holding her amulet and Cullen's sword to her chest.

They landed with a crash and despite everyone's best efforts, they still fell over from the impact. “Role call...” Hawke moaned out as she turned over. “Varric?

“Present...” the dwarf groaned.

“Solas?”

“I am fine.” The elf climbed to his feet and made his way back to the battle site.

“Thom?”

“Here, Hawke.” Blackwall brushed the ground stone from his armor.

“Your worship?”

Ebrisa coughed and stood up slowly. “I'm here.”

“Well how the hell did we manage that?” The Inquisitor laughed as she lay on her back, staring up at the spiral of clouds above them. “Did we really do this? I'm going to be very cross if we died and this is the Maker's bosom.”

“You and me both,” Varric sighed and dusted off Bianca before setting her on his back. “Lets get out of here before things start floating again.”

The fighters and rouge headed down the stairs and Ebrisa moved to follow, but paused. “Master Solas? What is it?”

He held the shattered remains of the foci in his hands. “The orb...”

Ebrisa had never seen the elf so distraught before and bent down beside him, setting Cullen's sword on the ground. “There's not a way to fix it? Surely, even in pieces, at least part of its power lingers.”

Solas shook his head mournfully. “It is lost.”

“I'm so sorry. I know how much you wanted to recover the foci. If I had just held on to it, then maybe...” The Herald looked down at the pieces and sighed. “Forgive me.”

The elf chuckled sadly. “Ah, Elgara'len. This is not your fault.” He stood up and looked at the blonde mage. “It has been an honor to tutor you and I just want you to know that no matter what happens, you will always have my respect.”

She rose to her feet slowly and furrowed her brow. “Master Solas... why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?”

“Ebrisa!” Cullen shouted as he came running up the steps and swept her up in his arms, holding her tightly to him and several inches off the ground. “Thank the Maker, you're safe. You're alive!” He set her down only to cup her face in his hands and kiss her deeply. He felt so light, like all his fears, worries, and anxieties had left him for at least a few minuets. She was safe.

They pulled apart and she giggled at his unbridled relief. “Of course I'm alive. I had my luck and your sword.” She motioned to the ground behind them and paused as she noticed they were alone.

“That's were it went.” Cullen retrieved the blade and slipped it in its scabbard before taking a good look at her. Her dress, what little there was left of it, was tattered and scorched and her boots singed to nearly nothing, but she herself was not burned at all. He looked at her curiously before sighing and removing his tunic. “I thought your aunt was the one who protected you from fire. How are you unharmed?”

Ebrisa blushed, unsure why Cullen was taking off his clothes. “I, um, I don't know. Perhaps because it was not true fire and I was connected to the orb?”

“Well don't tell Dagna or she's liable to do more experiments on you.” The commander handed the long tunic and belt to the mage. “Here, cover yourself before another person sees. I don't want anyone else getting... ideas about you.” He blushed and looked away.

“Anyone else?” The mage asked, but Cullen only blushed further. She put on the garment, and wrapped it like a dressing gown, the sides crossing over her hips and bunched up along her waist, secured in place with the belt. The shoulder hem slid well past its target and the end of the tunic gathered around her ankles. “I never realized how big this was. Or am I just tiny?”

Cullen couldn't help but smile at her ability to somehow look adorable in the borrowed clothes. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, resting his head on top of hers. “You're the perfect size. You fit just right.” He kissed her hair before letting go and taking her hand. “Come on now, everyone is heading back to Skyhold.”

Chapter Text

Hawke wanted a party right away, but Josephine insisted preparations needed to be made and guests had to be invited, so the Inquisitor bought rounds of drinks for everyone that first night instead. Ebrisa, remembering her first hangover and the fact that she couldn't remember anything else about the experience, declined. Strongly.

In the days leading up to the official victory ceremony and party, Cullen spoke with Josephine and Emery quitell a bit and wrote far more letters than usual. Whenever Ebrisa would catch him writing, he'd quickly cover the parchment and become nervous. He was being odd, and she couldn't understand why.

“Lady Montilyet?” Ebrisa began quietly as the Antivan laced her up in the new dress. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, my lady, everything seems to be in the right place.” The ambassador fluffed up the white fabric of the skirt before standing up right and adjusting the decorative pins in the mage's hair.

“Cullen has been acting a little strangely lately and you've been with him quite a bit, so I thought maybe he would have said what was wrong.” The blonde sighed. “I must have done something...”

Josephine laughed before touching up the other woman's make up. “I assure you, the commander finds no fault in you. Don't worry about it.” She patted the mage's shoulders before nodding in satisfaction. “Now, it's just about time for the procession, so make your way out the gate. I have to get into position myself.” They walked down the stairs and parted ways, the Herald not feeling entirely satisfied with the answer she received.

Ebrisa crossed the gate and paused. “Lady Inquisitor?”

Hawke flinched and turned around to face the mage, the skirt of her dress swishing as she moved. “Everyone else has had their laugh, so lets hear it. Don't I look silly?” She glared at Blackwall. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

He chuckled and hide his mild blush. “I stand by my earlier comment. Quite fetching.”

The Herald walked around the Inquisitor as she looked her over. It was a simple dress, yes, but a dress! And no armor to hide behind. She took Hawke's hands excitedly and beamed at her. “Lady Hawke, you look wonderful! It's so good to see you not battle ready, wait... that didn't come out right.” Ebrisa rubbed her forehead. “I meant that you don't look as though you're going to punch someone at any moment.”

“Wanna try that again, Sunshine?” Varric laughed. “Hawke can still take out out any of us.”

“I didn't mean that she couldn't, just that she looks... gentle?” Ebrisa frowned. “Or maybe I should just stop trying to put it in words.”

The music began and the inner circle quickly got into positions, Hawke and Ebrisa moving to the end of the line. The mage leaned in and quickly tried one last time to say what she was thinking. “You look scary most of the time, which is good for fighting and leading, but it can make people forget that you're a woman as well. I'm glad you're reminding them you aren't just a walking greatsword.”

Hawke smiled awkwardly at the blonde. “Thanks.”

The group moved through the gates and waved at the cheering crowd filled with soldiers, workers, and guests. It was pompous and annoying, but very overdue and Hawke smiled widely as they crossed the lower and upper yards. Ebrisa walked up to the landing first and curtsied to the advisors before joining them. When Hawke climbed up the steps, all four bent in respect before moving aside for the Inquisitor to bow to the people, who cheered and shouted excitedly. She straightened and wanted to punch the air herself, but a stern look from Josephine made her hesitate. Leliana pulled her aside as the main hall began to fill and updated her of the lack of updates with Solas.

“He always said he would leave, and he wasn't my biggest fan.” Hawke shrugged. “I'm not entirely surprised.” She waved it off and began to mingle, which meant drink.

Ebrisa chatted politely with the various nobles in attendance, but kept glancing over at Cullen across the room. She'd tried talking to him, but he made a weird excuse and slipped away. He was avoiding her. What did she do?

“So no heraldry then?” Emery frowned and jotted down a note on the writing board. “We'll have to make one for the Rutherfords and get them all to sign off on it before you meet Father. I'm thinking... something about lions.”

Cullen groaned and looked over his shoulder at the Herald surrounded by tittering nobles. “How many more questions until I can ask mine?”

“We're almost done.” The red-head smirked. “If Lady Montilyet and I didn't do so much of this for you, I have the feeling it never would have gotten done. Glad that you did get the formal consent from your family and passed it along to Father.” He crossed a task off the list and double checked he hadn't skipped anything. “Okay... one last question, but depending on your answer it may cause more work.”

“Knowing my luck with these things, I'm going to answer it wrong.” The commander sighed. “Alright, what is it?”

“How many times have you copulated?”

Cullen blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Very much so,” Emery deadpanned.

“Well despite whatever gossip you've heard in the barracks, the answer is zero.”

“Why not? No desire? No opportunity?” The noble raised a brow.

The commander blushed as he glanced around. “No, there's been plenty of both. She wants to wait until marriage, and I respect her decision.”

Emery sighed and shook his head as he began writing again. “Alright...”

“Was that the wrong answer?” Cullen tried to peek around the board. “Because if it is, you nobles have even more odd rules than I previously thought.”

“No, it was right. You are free to make your public declaration.” Emery looked up and smirked. “Go get her, Commander.”

“Finally,” Cullen sighed and moved briskly across the room, ignoring Varric as he tried to call him over. The dwarf watched him go, then nudged Hawke, who pointed it out to Dorian, who...

Ebrisa looked up at him as he approached and set down her plate, concern slipping into her features. “Cullen? What's wrong?”

Cullen shook his head. He was being perhaps a bit too intense. “May I speak with you? Alone?”

“Of course.” She curtsied quickly to the nobles. “Excuse me a moment.”

He took her hand and looked around for somewhere devoid of people. “Come with me.” He lead her through a side door and up the stairs to the empty balcony before releasing her hand. Cullen suddenly felt nervous. He'd been waiting impatiently for this opportunity and had already, more or less, promised to marry Ebrisa. He began pacing and rubbed his neck.

“Whatever I did, I'm sorry.” Ebrisa said suddenly, slipping her fingers up and down the chain of her amulet.

Cullen stopped pacing and stared at her. “What? No, Ebrisa, you haven't done anything wrong.”

“But you've been acting so strangely around me and keep avoiding me. They aren't even good excuses anymore.” She looked up at him in confusion. “You needed to check on the nug training? Really?”

“Okay, that wasn't my best, I'll admit.” He sighed and held the bridge of his nose. “There's just been so much to do and it makes so little sense, but I needed to be sure everything was done right. I can't risk failure.”

The mage reached out and touched his arm. “What is it? Can't I help?”

Cullen chuckled lightly as he moved to stand in front of her. “You can. In fact, you are a big part of this.”

She tilted her head slightly. “But you said I hadn't done anything wrong?”

“You haven't. You've done everything right. You make everything feel right.” He took firm hold of her hands. “Ebrisa Amelisse Trevelyan,” Cullen looked deep into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Ebrisa stood there, staring, and Cullen began to get nervous again. Just as he was about to say something else, she wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing herself against him in a deep kiss. They fell over noisily, knocking over a side table as they crashed to the floor, but neither cared. All that mattered was each other and they kissed until they needed air. Cullen nudged the mage's forehead. “Is that a yes?”

Ebrisa giggled softly. “It's a thousand yeses.”

They stood, still smiling, but froze as clapping and cheering sounded from below them. “Bout friggin time!” Sera shouted from on top a table. “Raise 'em for the love birds!”

Most of the room lifted their drinks to the couple on the balcony and Emery rolled his eyes with a smile. He turned to Josephine and held out his glass towards her. “Can't be much more public of a declaration than that.”

“Agreed.” The ambassador clinked her own glass to the templar's and took a sip as she swore she could almost see the blondes blushing from all the way across the hall.