Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART ONE

A chill wind swept across the Frostbacks, catching the Warden’s hair and stinging her cheeks.

Not that she was a Warden anymore.

Not that she was anything anymore, she thought grimly as she tugged her cloak tighter around herself.

She’d enjoyed being nothing. Perhaps enjoyed was the wrong word. She hadn’t hated it. She hadn’t felt anything. Drifting across Thedas like a spirit, helping small villages when she could in exchange for shelter on the coldest nights, sleeping mostly in caves and abandoned ruins. It wasn’t much of a life, and it wasn’t much of a death. It was somewhere in between.

How many years had it been?

Time had passed in a wash of days and nightmares, bleeding into each other. She’d stayed far from cities – in the cities they might recognise her face.

They’d called her the Hero of Ferelden before she’d left.

She wasn’t the hero. Alistair was the hero. Alistair had struck the final blow, had ended the Blight. She’d simply witnessed, held back by well-meaning friends and impenetrable magic.

But outside of the cities, there was nothing to mark the passage of years. There was no harvest, no festivals, no Chantry songs catching on the breeze and telling you another week had gone. And what did it matter?

Her sacrifice, her purpose, had been stolen.

She had considered the Deep Roads. Every Warden considered the Deep Roads at least once. Usually for the first and last time. But throwing her life away when she was not called to do so by sacred duty went against the vows she’d taken.

Once, they had spoken of it. Close together in her tent, skin against skin. Alistair had said, “You know I’d marry you if I could?”

And she had said, “I would like that.”

And he had grinned at her, eyes shining. “You would?”

Why had he never understood that she loved him as much as he loved her?

“We don’t know what will happen when we reach Denerim. If they still want to make you king…”

“I know.” His expression had sobered as quickly as if she’d struck him. “And as king I may… well…”

“It’s alright,” she’d assured him, regretting bringing up the subject. I know. I understand. “I’m a Circle Mage and a Grey Warden. At least I’m not an elf.”

“Ah, there, you see. I will be sure to mention that. At least she’s not an elf.” He’d smiled wistfully, taking her hand in his. “You should rebuild the Wardens. They need you.”

“I know almost nothing about being a Warden.”

“You know enough.”

Then he’d kissed her and later, when the first sounds of dawn indicated it was almost time to part, he'd said, “I’ve only been a Warden three months longer than you, you know?”

“Yes, but you spent time with other Warden-“

“No, wait, hear me out. It’s not about that.” He’d taken her hand again, and stared down at their entwined fingers as if considering his next words carefully. “Eventually we’ll hear the Calling. I told you.”

“Thirty years.” He’d explained that it would take three decades for the taint to overwhelm their blood.

“Twenty nine now.” The wistful smile, and his eyes locked firmly on their hands. “I’ll wait for you.” Then he’d looked up and the intensity in his gaze had stopped her breath. “Let’s make a pact. No matter what else happens. When we hear the Calling, we come together again and we die, side-by-side.”

Except he hadn’t died by her side.

He'd died that night, atop that tower, tired and bloody. 

“I can’t let you do this!” she’d cried, staff at the ready. She’d been preparing for the sacrifice since they’d entered the gates and she’d seen Riordan fall to his death. In truth she’d been preparing since the night before, since she’d discovered that a Warden had to strike the final blow and give their life with it. If it came down to her or him, it had to be her.

She’d kissed him on the steps, overcome, knowing it was the last opportunity. 

Leliana had teased her. Leliana had had no idea what lay ahead.

I can’t let you do this… she’d been ready to cast.

But he was Templar-trained. She’d forgotten that. He could suppress her magic.

“You don’t have a choice.”

And so he’d suffocated her spell and run forward with his sword. He was stronger and faster and by the time she knew she’d failed, he’d already pushed the blade hilt-high into the beast. And she’d tried to run to him, convinced there was some mistake, convinced she could undo it.

Wynne had held her back. That frail old woman, with nothing but a spirit and her own willpower keeping her upright, had found the strength to hold her back from the blast. It had saved her life. It had felt like betrayal.

And now she heard the Calling.

Now she heard the Calling and where was Alistair? Was he waiting for her in the Fade? Was he beside the Maker, as the Chantry prayers had promised? Or did the taint prevent that? What happened to a Warden when they died?

The thought of the Deep Roads had returned to her now that her usual nightmares had taken on a more urgent tone, now that she heard the drum beat that signaled her end, a dissident chord that rang constantly at the back of her mind.

Only one thing stopped her from heeding that dark summons. It hadn’t been 30 years.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she’d seen her reflection not more than a week ago. Yes, there were slight crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes, but other than that her skin was smooth, her hair was still a bright sunset red.

She looked at her hands again, pale from the cold. No wrinkles.

Either it had not been 30 years, or she had discovered the secret to eternal youth in her travels without even realising it.

So what did it mean? Another Blight?

Another Blight, another chance to make her sacrifice.

She didn’t know how she felt about that. It felt a little better than nothing, and also a little worse.

Chapter Text

Well this didn’t happen the last time.

The Warden stared up at the sky and felt more than a little sick.

She’d been travelling toward the Anderfels, not sure where else she might find other Wardens; Wardens who could make sense of what she’d been feeling and seeing. She had stopped for the night in a small town where there had been whispers of some kind of conclave, up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She had smiled to herself, sitting in the corner of a tavern eating quietly and trying not to draw attention. So it had become a temple then, like Leliana had wished.

And then the noise. A horrible vibration that started in the head and traveled through the teeth right into the depths of the heart. People had run outside to see what had happened and she’d followed, automatically reaching for her staff.

But this was one enemy she couldn’t fight. A hole in the sky, spitting angry lightning, the whirling spew-green of the fade.

She was still clutching her staff – rather uselessly – when someone nearby gave a shriek and pointed behind her. She spun, the spell for a fireball coming to the front of her mind as if it hadn’t been years since she’d last cast one. But there was nothing at all alarming there. People who had been staring at the sky only a moment before were now staring at her.

“Get out of here!” A man shouted from the gathered crowd. “We don’t want your kind here.”

Again, she looked around her, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were reacting to her presence. Was Ferelden still so against Grey Wardens? Even after they’d disproved Loghain’s claims about their betrayal? How did they know she was a Warden?

The ring. Of course, the ring.

She held up her hand in a sign of surrender. “I mean you no harm. I’m just passing through.”

Odd that the whole crowd could be that observant, as to notice the crest on a small ring. Not only odd, impossible.

“They did this,” she heard a murmur in the gathered crowd. “It was them, the rebels. They tore the sky.”

“I’ll be taking my leave now then,” she said, spooked more than she wanted to let on. She turned and hurried through a gap between people, back into the woods. She could still feel them staring after her.

Alarming. She hadn’t encountered anything like that since she’d visited Haven all those years ago.

The woods were comforting in their familiarity. She’d spent so much time in the forests of Thedas she imagined she could write a book on them if she ever had a mind to. Usually travelling through the trees, collecting herbs and tracking animals eased her mind. Not today, not while that hole in the sky gaped over her.

Eventually the hum of voices through the trees came to her. Bandits? In general she’d steer clear of any group of people found out in the wilderness. Normal folk stuck to the roads, which left these deep parts for two types: robbers, or people who didn’t want to be found. Neither appreciated her stumbling into their camps.

But now she had greater concerns. She crept nearer, listening closely. Even bandits might know more about what had happened to the sky than her. She sank into the shadows behind a bush, so she could just see them through the gaps between leaves.

A flash of armour.

Not bandits then, not that well outfitted.

Low voices, a shift of a shield, a flicker of an emblem.

Templars. Thank the Maker.

“Greetings.” She rose from her hiding place slowly, trying not to startle them. Startled Templars were far more dangerous than bandits. There were three of them. One brawny with a thick neck and swarthy skin, one pale and tall and one, who seemed to be barely old enough to be a member of their order, with a darker complexion. Despite her efforts not to frighten them, all three spun and leveled shining weapons at her.

She held up her hands again. “I mean no harm. I only wished to ask –“

But the young one pointed. “Look, she has a staff!”

“Down on your knees,” the brawny one said. “I’m only going to ask once.”

Old fears surged to the surface. Her Harrowing, silver edges that would welcome the chance to cut. Sneered commands, panicked night searches for unruly classmates. She did as he asked without question. Too many years of conditioning for her to stand her ground now.

“Please, there’s been some misunderstanding. I’m not an apostate. I’m a Circle Mage, I have papers.”

One of them – she wasn’t sure which – started laughing. Another yanked the staff from her back.

“I was a Circle Mage. I have permission-“

The press of Templar magic, cutting off her air so all she could do was stare down at the leafy ground.

“Where are your comrades?” a Templar asked and she thought it must have been the brawny one. He released his control on her long enough for her to take a breath to answer. 

“I have no comrades. I’m travelling alone.”

“A likely story,” the tall one who had not spoken before said.  

“Probably a trap,” the young one surmised.

“I approached you,” she insisted. “Why would I do that if I was an apostate?”

“Why did you approach us? What were you planning?” The tall one again.

“I wasn’t planning anything. I wanted to know what’s going on. With the sky.”

Something struck her temple, the haft of a sword possibly. She cried out as stars exploded behind her eyes.

“You should know. You did this,” the burly Templar said.

“I haven’t done anything.” She hated how pathetic she sounded. Look at Ferelden’s hero now, on her knees in the dirt being shoved around by Templars.

“Your mage friends have, just like in Kirkwall. ‘cept now it’s not just a Chantry. That wasn’t enough for you was it?” The weapon that had struck her temple collided with her rib cage, sending her down to the ground, and she realised he was hitting her with her own staff.

“Kirkwall?”

“Don’t play stupid. Tell us where the rest of your group is, or we kill you right here.”

“What?”

Another blow to her ribs, harder, hard enough to make her curl in on herself.

The tall Templar dropped to his haunches beside her. He touched her hair almost affectionately. “Or how about we don’t kill you? There are other ways we can get our information.”

A spark of light flew across her vision, hitting the man in the chest. He went sprawling, electricity chasing across his armour. Chain Lightning. The burly Templar gave a cry of surprise and when she looked at him she found him aflame, running towards the trees in terror.

She scrambled into a sitting position, head still spinning. The young Templar was holding up his shield, but there was now a mage opposite him. The mage cast a glyph at his feet, he exploded in flame. She shielded her face against the heat. Someone was hauling her up by her arm.

“Come on, there will be more nearby,” a voice said at her ear. Her staff was pressed into her hand, and she was pulled away from the remains of the Templars and into the trees.

Her saviour was an elf with dark hair. He darted ahead. She followed as best she could, the pain in her side a hindrance. Another mage, the one who had been casting the lightning, caught up. She was human and she slipped her arm around the warden’s waist and helped her along.

They ran for some time, until the trees grew denser and pressed in, until she could no longer see the rift in the sky.

They came to a clearing where there were others – three or four. Too many questions, all at once. The one who’d cast the lightning helped her to sit on a log.

“You shouldn’t have been out there alone,” the man who’d saved her said.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on?” She was panting, still struggling to breathe after the Templar’s spell.

“We don’t know,” the man said, running a hand through his hair. It was greasy. They had the look of people who hadn’t been anywhere near civilisation in a long time. “That’s why we were scouting so close to their camp. We were hoping to overhear something. Any other day, you would have been on your own.”

The lightning-caster passed her a canteen. “I’m Cassey. What’s your name?”

She drank deeply, the water cool and fresh. “Solana.”

It felt so strange to use a name again. It was alien, the vowels not fitting where they should. She wondered if she’d pronounced it right.

Then she wondered if she should have lied.

“Solana, I heard what you said to them. You said you’ve been travelling alone. Is that true?”

“Yes.” More true than they could know.

“What happened to your cell?”

“My cell?”

“You’re not supposed to travel alone. It’s too dangerous.”

It was only then that she noticed the robes that Cassey was wearing. The fabric was unfamiliar but the style was unmistakable. Circle.

“You’re a Circle Mage?”

Cassey exchanged looks with the elf. He drew nearer, narrowing his eyes at her. “You really don’t know what’s going on?”

“The Circles fell, Solana. We’re all apostates now,” Cassey said. “Even them.”

She looked at the others in the group for the first time. They’d fallen silent and were gathered nearby, listening. Three of them, each with the mark of the Chantry branded onto their foreheads. Tranquil mages, mages that couldn’t possibly be a threat to anyone.

“Is this a Blight?” Solana asked. Why had she waited so long once she’d heard the Calling before seeking answers?

“Maker, I hope not,” said the man, settling opposite her. “Although I don’t remember a hole in the sky last time.”

“If darkspawn aren’t to blame, how did the Circles fall?”

Another mage stepped into the clearing, startling her. He was younger than the others, a human with curly brown hair. No branding. He was holding two dead nugs by the ears.  “We didn’t fall, we rose.”

“That’s a matter of some debate, Derrik,” Cassey said.

He ignored her, speaking directly to Solana. “We decided we didn’t like living under the Chantry’s thumb. It started in Kirkwall. Mages rose up against the oppressors. Their passion spread like wildfire from Circle to Circle and now we’re all free.”

“Yes, free,” said Cassey, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He continued to ignore her. “How is it that you, a mage, do not know this?”

“I’ve been alone a long time.”

“Well, you’re not alone now.” Cassey offered a thin smile. “Welcome to the cause.”

“Commander, there’s something you need to see.”

Cullen snapped the box shut and jerked upright. His men knew he’d been a Templar, there was nothing shameful about him examining the lyrium apparatus. Yet he felt dirty, he felt as if he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar.

The young man with his head around the door was flushed and out of breath. If he’d noticed Cullen’s startled reaction, it didn’t show on his face.

“Report.”

“It’s uh…” the man swallowed. “It’s best you see for yourself.”

Cullen followed him from the Chantry. The hole in the sky seemed to have grown larger, but the man didn’t spare it a glance.

It was only outside of town, down by the old fisherman’s cottage, that Cullen saw what he was talking about. A bright green split in space itself, shining like the surface of the icy lake it hung over and crackling like a curse.

His heart beat faster. Some visceral part of him knew what he was seeing, even as his mind struggled to comprehend it. Perhaps he’d seen something similar in those dark days in the Ferelden Circle, the ones that he’d partly blanked out, that came to him only when he slept.

A cluster of his men was standing at the base of the thing, weapons drawn. He was opening his mouth to ask what it was when it contracted in on itself, becoming strangely crystalline. Then it shuddered. It spat forth darts of sickening green light, and from the light came the demons.

 “Maker’s toenails, what is that thing?”

Cassey was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Derrik, who seemed to think himself leader of their group, had gone pale. He thought nothing of hunting Templars or catching nugs, but this had somehow him scared to silence.

Solana had been hearing nothing but his voice for the last few hours as they’d made their way through the woods. She’d longed for him to stop talking about the glory of mages and magic, but she hadn’t asked for this.

The tear hung before them, blocking their path. She could see a twisted landscape on the other side and she didn’t like what she saw. She’d spent far too much time there, chasing nightmares and rescuing possessed little boys.

“We need to run.”

“What?” Derrik looked at her, eyes wide. He seemed even younger now, no more than a child.

“That’s the Fade through there. Hole into the Fade means one thing.”

“Demons?” Falin, the elf, asked. Although by his tone, it was more a statement. Solana nodded.

She expected Derrik to turn heel (or perhaps fall to his knees and lose the contents of his stomach). Instead, he lowered his staff and walked closer, as if entranced. Cassey called after him, but he seemed to not hear her.

“We could bind them… get them to fight with us.” He raised a hand as if to touch the rift.

“Are you insane?” Cassey leapt forward, snatching his hand from the air.

A crack. A flash of light and Derrik was thrown high, screaming. Something had come through the rift, its dark shadow now where he had been. There was no sign of Cassey.

“Run!” Solana called to the tranquil. She didn’t dare check over her shoulder to see if they’d obeyed.

The demon howled, stretching its malformed head to the sky. She knew its kind, but she couldn’t remember its weaknesses. Once she had known them by heart, but now…

No time to debate. She cast a hasty barrier and called upon the elements.

This had been her favourite spell once, and it certainly looked impressive. The very air before her seemed to turn to flame. It roared with her power, whipping around the demon, wrapping it in a blinding cone of fire. The demon shrieked and its call was answered by another. It was no longer alone. Somewhere behind her, another monstrosity had been expelled from the Fade, but the blazing demon came at her. She couldn’t fight them both.

Lightening streaked past her ear. Cassey alive and on her knees, casting at whatever was behind Solana.

And then Falin was at her shoulder, casting his own spells and glyphs.

Between the three of them, they managed to defeat the demons. Sweating, aching, Solana collapsed beside the prone Derrik. No breath, no heartbeat.

“At least he went quickly,” Cassey said.

Falin drew her into a tight embrace and they held each other for a long moment before Solana suggested they should leave. There was no telling what the rift might send forth next, and she didn’t wish to find out.  

Cullen sheathed his sword and brushed the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Well this was… inconvenient. Deep breaths. Not what he needed right now. Another reason to go back to lyrium. Another reason to return to the leash.

“There are more of them, sir.” One of the men said.

“What are they?”

“Rifts into the fade.”

“I can tell that. I mean where did they come from? The conclave?”

“It would appear so.” He turned to find Cassandra coming up behind them, swaggering slightly with the weight of her weapon. “Solas believes they’re some kind of ripple effect. Whatever happened at the temple was powerful enough that it split the sky. He reckons that whatever power created the Breach –“

“And you trust this apostate?” Cullen met her gaze. He was used to people shying away from his glare, but Cassandra held it.

“I do. I told you. He approached us willingly, handing over his weapons without being asked...”

“Mages don’t require weapons.”

She cocked her head. “But this one may be our only hope for answers. The prisoner has woken. Solas believes he might be able to close these – things.”

“Incoming!” The rift had contracted again.

Cullen pulled out his sword. “Fine, you go get your prisoner. And sound the alarm. We need every able-bodied person out here fighting.”

Maker help us.

“Where are we going?” Cassey asked.

They’d been walking for hours, running from that rift until their legs were numb and it was all they could do to put one foot in front of the other. Solana didn’t know. She knew only that she needed to get away from the fade and death and demons.

“What happened to the Grey Wardens?” she asked.

“Which Grey Wardens?”

“Any of them. After Loghain was killed at the Landsmeet and the Blight was stopped, where did they go?”

Falin was a few feet behind them, keeping an eye on the tranquil. “It is intriguing how little you know about current events. I trust that at some stage you will offer us an explanation?”

She took a breath to respond, to explain again that she had been travelling across Thedas. But he was obviously not so curious as to press an answer immediately. He kept talking.

“In response to your question, when The Warden disappeared, the others of her order took refuge in the land bequeathed to her by the crown. They aimed to rebuild a presence in Ferelden, I believe.”

“Aimed to?” Solana prompted.

“Their keep was overrun by darkspawn.”

She stumbled and Cassey gave her a curious look. “Darkspawn? But the Blight was over!”

She’d failed in her duty. It should have been her. She should have killed the archdemon.

 “Indeed. They fought off the threat, but without a base of operations, those who survived went North. We’ve never been particularly welcoming of their ilk, as you no doubt know.”

“Why would you think I know?”

“No reason,” he said with forced casualness. “It’s just that I’ve noticed the ring you wear. Forgive me, I’m not usually one to pry, but you keep twisting it as if it is ill-fitting.”

She was twisting it as he spoke and she dropped her hand, the sudden movement eliciting a giggle from Cassey.

“It doesn’t mean what you think it does,” she said quickly. “It is a Warden signet...” He had already seen as much, she knew from his line of questioning. “But it doesn’t mean I’m a part of the order. The Wardens don’t give rings to show allegiance, they give…” she trailed off. She was forbidden from speaking of it, of the vial she still wore around her neck, beneath her clothes. And if she did speak of it, the very knowledge would be incriminating. “It means I knew a Warden once. It’s his ring I wear.”

“Ah, and you’re seeking this friend of yours?” Falin guessed.             

“No.”

The word was too short, too hard and too cold. She owed him more.

“No, he’s not… he’s with the Maker now. But I believe if anyone will be able to help us defeat these demons, it would be the Wardens. We should find them.”

Chapter Text

They were calling him the Herald of Andraste.

Cullen didn't know how he felt about that. He'd always been Andrastian – how could he not be, serving the Chantry as long as he had? In recent years, his belief had been shaken more than once. But now, living beneath the yawning Breach, he found his faith restored.

It was difficult to stare at something so incredible every day and not believe it was all true – the formation of the Veil, the Golden City, the disillusioned Maker.

But believing in the Maker and believing that Andraste herself had sent this human man to save them all didn't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

Mind you, if Andraste were to send a saviour, she hardly could have chosen a better specimen. Trevelyan looked every bit the part. He'd come from a noble family, and it showed. He was tall, strong, healthy with a classically square jaw and bright, attentive eyes. Even his teeth were perfect, and when he swept his wavy brown air from his eyes, every woman from here to Orlais paid attention. He was charismatic too, with a kind of youthful optimism so common in those who had led lives of privilege.

Did he believe himself the Herald?

He dodged the question whenever it was asked of him, saying something along the lines of, "I only wish to help."

What an opportunity, for the youngest child of a noble line, with no destiny of his own. He could be the shining beacon that led Thedas into a new age.

If the people believed in him, then why not? What did Cullen's misgivings matter?

Trevelyan had managed to halt the progress of the breach – Solas was so infuriatingly smug about that – which was more than anyone else had managed to do. Now he was going to meet with the Chantry mothers and Cullen was certain he'd win their hearts too.

He took the vial out of the box again and stared at it in his hand.

Chantry approval would mean easy access to lyrium once more. Why give it up? Why go through this? The headaches, the nausea, the anxiety and terror. Some days it felt like he was being tortured all over again, and for what? For some symbolic gesture?

He swallowed, taking hold of the wooden spoon. Its shape was so familiar. It fit perfectly in his hand. His fingers knew the grooves, the grain of the wood. It felt like home.

The Inquisition needed him to be at his best. Not this shell of himself, this puppet that made the right noises and gave the right assurances by rote, but who felt nothing but need.

Who was he to deny them that?

The serene face of Andraste stared at him from the carved inlay of the box. A symbol of truth, a symbol of strength.

Slowly, as if each inch of movement physically ached, he placed the spoon and the vial back inside and shut the lid.

Not today.

"Welcome to our order."

The Warden-Commander was beautiful in the way that the Breach was beautiful. She was scarred, and she'd shaved off her hair. She wore a grim expression and she was all angles, as if she hadn't eaten a good meal in a very long time. Yet there was a burning power in her, an inner glow that outshone her physical appearance.

"We've had quite a few visits from mages these past months," she said, "but I don't believe many have traveled quite as far as you to make our acquaintance."

She sat at the end of the stone hall, her ankle resting on her knee and her hands steepled as she leaned back in her chair. She was very much like a monarch, Solana thought.

There was nothing particularly regal about the hall itself. It had a single threadbare carpet in the centre, and two candelabrum on either side of the Warden-Commander's chair that bathed her in a pool of light. Yet her presence made the space feel like more.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us." Solana dipped her head, uncertain of the proper protocol. Alistair had never discussed that with her.

"Clarel, please. You come to us at a difficult time. Usually we'd be more hospitable." She rose to her feet. "But let us keep this brief. You are running from the Templars and wish to offer your skills, and your lives, to the Wardens in return for sanctuary?"

"Actually –" Solana started, but Cassey stepped forward and interrupted. "Yes, if possible."

Falin grabbed her arm. "On condition."

Warden-Commander Clarel cocked an eyebrow, "Which is?"

"We bring tranquil with us. A small number. They're helpless in times such as these."

Solana watched Clarel's face. Her expression seemed to sober, her mouth drew into a frown, her gaze dropped to her feet. "I see."

"They can't fight, but they can perform other services for the Wardens," Falin insisted. "They're excellent researchers."

"I'm aware of their abilities." Clarel said, then softer, "I was once an enchanter."

"Then you'll accept them into the order too?" Falin pressed.

"It's not that simple."

"Not the order then, but if you can offer them a safe place to live…"

"Please, understand. It's not that I do not wish to help them. But as I said, you have come at a difficult time. Being a Warden isn't an escape. It's a sacred duty. It's a sacrifice."

"I do understand that!"

"Falin…" Solana cautioned.

"If you turn us away, we will die out there. As Wardens our deaths have meaning."

That had hit a chord. The Warden-Commander's gaze softened.

A figure in the corner of the room stirred. He was cloaked in shadow, so Solana could not see his features. She'd thought him just another one of the guards who stood to the sides of the hall at first, but there was something different about his silhouette. He wasn't wearing Warden armour.

"We do need mages," he said. His voice was almost sing-song in its intonation and the hairs on the back of Solana's neck stood on end.

Solana followed Cassey, Falin and the tranquil as they were led to what would be their rooms. For a headquarters, this Orlesian keep was incredibly quiet. Alistair had spoken of raucous drinking games and comradery. There as none of that here. All the Wardens they passed had a look of intense focus. Some were murmuring together, but moved apart as they approached.

"Rest for the night," Clarel said when they reached their destination. She stood aside at the door. "In the morning, we will perform your rite of passage."

Solana waited for the others to enter, and when she was sure Falin and Cassey were out of earshot she dropped her voice and addressed Clarel, "A word?"

The Warden-Commander's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid I cannot provide more details about what this rite of passage entails. It's a sacred Warden trad-"

She stopped talking when she realised what Solana was showing her. She'd scooped the vial she wore around her neck out from under her robes and it dangled between them.

"I see," said Clarel.

She indicated they should move further down the corridor with a tilt of her head. They walked a while without speaking, every so often passing one of the doleful Wardens. Eventually, Clarel pushed open a door and led Solana into a small courtyard.

It was all stone. A single tree had once stood in the centre, but now it was no more than a collection of branches.

Clarel turned to her, "You're hearing it too?"

The questions that Solana had been lining up to ask died in her throat. "What?"

Clarel's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"I'm just a Warden. From Ferelden." She remembered what Falin had said. "I was recruited just before Vigil's Keep fell. I wasn't told much about the Order."

The Warden-Commander was still eyeing her suspiciously. "That was many years ago."

"I've been keeping to myself." This conversation was getting out of her control. "Is everyone hearing the Calling?"

Clarel nodded slowly.

"What does that mean? Another Blight?"

"It means we are dying."

Solana's breath caught. "All of us?"

Clarel paced across the small courtyard, scratching her head. "I know not what caused this. The precise magic behind the Joining is lost to history. Perhaps it is some new evil we do not yet understand, something that is manipulating the taint in our blood and speeding our demise. It wouldn't be the first time similar has happened, though perhaps not on so large a scale."

"But if the Wardens die out…"

Clarel didn't answer.

"Only a Warden can slay an archdemon," Solana repeated, those fateful words that she'd heard years before. "That's why you're recruiting the rebel mages? You want to recruit faster than we die out?"

"Such a plan would be unsustainable."

"There must be some solution. You should appeal to the crown."

Clarel's attention snapped to her, her icy eyes locked on Solana's. "You think I haven't tried? The crown is deaf to our pleas. She has a civil war to concern herself with."

Wait what?

"Orlais is at war?"

Clarel gave a snort of laughter. "You really have been isolated."

Solana swallowed. "How long do we have?"

"I don't know. A matter of months. The taint itself isn't our chief concern. It's the summons."

Solana would have asked what she meant, but she thought she understood. Her own blood was riling against even being here. The only way to make the music stop was to go to the Deep Roads. Only that massive hole in the sky had prevented her from giving in already. "Wardens are leaving for the Deep Roads."

"In droves." Clarel offered a small smile. "Which is why I was surprised to find you here. Every Warden I know of not locked in this fortress has already taken the Long Walk. We're cursed, you see. We don't tell the new recruits, many of them can't handle it. the Calling isn't a result of the taint. It's a spell, an ancient spell, that brings us to an honourable death whether or not we will it."

"It's not the Blight sickness that kills us."

"No, we kill ourselves. Or, we go to die. Which amounts to the same. You can only deny the call so long."

"So we might not even be sick?"

"It hardly matters." The older woman turned away from her, looking up at the tiny square of grey sky above where they stood. "The sickness is what usually triggers our Calling, but the trigger is irrelevant."

"But you just agreed to recruit my friends. You're not going to warn them?"

Clarel leaned against the wall, pressing her head to the stone. "I may have a solution. It requires an army. We've lost too many people to the Calling, I'm sorry."

"What's the solution?" Solana asked, voice trembling with either fear or rage. Probably both.

"We kill the Old Gods before they wake."

Chapter Text

Mages, it had to be mages.

Not just an agreement with them, no. He had to go and form an alliance! And not just any mages, the rebel mages who had been using Maker knows what kinds of magic. Even Solas had admitted that the mages they'd seen fighting out in Redcliffe had gone mad, and now they were part of the Inquisition?

Cullen paced from one end of the room to the other, trying to steady his breathing. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The Inquisition had been a chance at a new life, but he was seeing visions of Kirkwall all over again.

When he'd confronted Trevelyan, even Cassandra had defended the Herald's decision. No one believed the mages should be restricted.

He should leave. Leave while he could.

Even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't. No matter how angry he was, closing the Breach was top priority and the Inquisition was the best chance for it.

Josephine slipped into the room. By the way she looked at him, she probably knew he was fuming. She gave him a small smile in greeting. She was usually the first to arrive for their meetings, but he hadn't trusted himself to be in his own quarters feeling this way, so he'd been pacing up and down, glaring at the markers on the war table, for the last half an hour.

"I'd like to compliment you on your diplomacy, Commander," she said.

"I'm not sure whether you're being sarcastic."

"Oh no, I'm being perfectly serious. We know you disagree with the choice the Herald made. It was good of you to assure him of your support."

"I assured him he'd have the support of my troops."

"Which amounts to the same thing, does it not? I must admit, I was a little concerned we'd have a civil war of our own just then."

He gave a snort. "I hope he realises that if they give us any trouble…"

The door opened and Leliana stepped in, followed by Cassandra and Trevelyan locked in conversation. They were talking about something he'd seen in the future, something to do with red lyrium. Cullen may have been more interested if he hadn't still been grinding his teeth over the mage alliance.

"Shall we begin?" he cut in. The others fell silent. He pointed to the space on the map that marked where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had once stood. "Troops and mages alike still need to be outfitted. I suggest we begin by commissioning –"

There was some kind of commotion outside. Sweet Andraste. Trouble already?

The others were possibly thinking the same thing. Leliana and Josie exchanged a look.

"I'll go check." Cassandra had her hand on her weapon as she moved to the door.

Cullen took another deep breath, his hands traveling automatically to his own sword hilt.

"The Circles are gone, mages are enslaved by Tevinter, Orlais's at war again, the Grey Wardens are performing blood magic and did I mention there's a hole in the sky? And you won't even let me speak to anyone."

"I'm sorry." The young man blushed scarlet. "The council is in session, if you wait…"

"I've done enough waiting."

Solana had run out on the Wardens as soon as she'd heard what Clarel was planning. She hadn't brought Falin and Cassey. They wouldn't have left without the tranquil and she knew she needed to get help fast. She hadn't intended to be gone long. She'd headed straight for the Chantry, thinking that if anyone would be willing to stop blood magic it would be them. But then she'd discovered that the Templars had gone rogue, leaving the Chantry completely toothless. She'd figured asking the rebel mages would be the next best solution – they understood the risks as well as she did. And they probably had enough power to stop the Wardens. But when she'd finally reached Redcliffe, she'd been told that the mage leader had sold her people into servitude for protection against the Templars.

Solana had found herself on the Redcliffe docks, staring out at the castle and cursing her timing. If she'd come there first, she could have at least asked Teagan for help, but now the castle was full of Tevinters. Her prior dealings with Tevinters had not at all endeared her to them, or them to her.

"It's you!"

She'd turned to the voice, cursing under her breath. That was the other thing about Redcliffe, the thing that had kept her away so long. Too many people who knew her.

It had taken her some time to recognise the young man staring at her, agape. Connor, the boy she'd once rescued from demon possession. He was now fully-grown, clad in Circle robes.

He'd begged her to save them all, as she had before. In fact, he thought she'd come to Redcliffe with the express purpose of ousting the Tevinters. But when she finally convinced him that she was on urgent business of her own, he'd told her about the Inquisition. People had been whispering its name outside of town, he'd said. The Inquisition was doing something about the breach in the sky, they'd been helping refugees, they were building an army.

The Inquisition was her last and only hope. And she couldn't even get inside.

She drew a breath for a repeat diatribe at the man blocking the door – her third – when the door opened. A strong-looking woman with a scarred face and dark close-cropped hair stepped out. She put her hands on her hips.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I need to speak with you," Solana said. "It's important."

The woman frowned, her brow furrowed. "And you just assume that your matter is more important than what we are currently discussing?"

Solana was about to answer that yes, it almost certainly was, when another figure arrived at the door. She was hooded and as soon as she saw Solana, she darted past the scarred woman and rushed towards her.

Solana reached for her staff, then she saw the face.

Leliana took her in a fierce embrace. "We were looking everywhere for you. I thought you'd gone to the Deep Roads."

"It seems to be the current trend," Solana said, still stunned. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back to the Chantry?"

Leliana's laugh was as musical as it had been a decade prior. "I did. And then I –"

The scarred woman cleared her throat.

"Oh, my apologies. May I present my good friend Solana." Leliana gave her a little conspiratorial smile. "Otherwise known as the Hero of Ferelden."

"Please don't call me that."

It was too late. Everyone in the hall was staring at her. Before, they'd been awkwardly trying to continue their business despite her shouting. The young man she'd been shouting at visibly paled and Solana thought he might faint.

The scarred woman's brown eyes went wide. She seemed to drift from the room where they'd been meeting. "You're her? But we searched."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"We needed a leader, of course," Leliana said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What? I can't be your le-"

The word died in her throat. Someone else had stepped out of the room, obviously curious as to what was keeping the others. He had a jagged scar across his lip now and had stubble where before he'd been cultivating a beard, but other than that he looked exactly the same.

"I'm still a mage," she said. Even if she was willing to lead them, there was no way in Thedas he'd follow a mage.

For his part, he hadn't moved since he'd spotted her.

Leliana followed her gaze. "Solana, you know Commander Cullen."

Leliana had been there in the Circle Tower. She'd heard the things he'd said. He'd been tortured for days, and the cruelty of the malificarum had driven him insane. He'd begged Solana to kill them all – blood mage and innocent alike, just in case they'd been corrupted. And when she'd refused, he'd pleaded with his captain to allow him to do that dark duty. He'd frightened her. And now here he was, in a position of power. In one of the last positions of power left this side of Thedas.

"You never told me you knew the Hero?" the scarred woman was saying to him. He didn't answer, he was just staring at Solana as if she was darkspawn or one of those Fade rifts.

"Not surprising," she said. "I don't think I'm one of his fondest memories."

She saw his adam's apple bob, but he didn't offer any response.

"This is Cassandra Pentagast," Leliana introduced the scarred woman. "She was the right hand of the Divine. She set up the Inquisition. And that's Josephine, our ambassador." A short woman dressed in gold had stepped out from behind Cullen.

Solana greeted them politely.

"You should join us at the war table," Leliana said, guiding her towards the room. "We have much to discuss."

Cullen felt cold and it had nothing to do with the weather.

He suspected that for once it didn't have anything to do with his withdrawal either.

As soon as they concluded their business in the war room, he marched to his quarters, straight up to the fire, rubbing his arms in vain.

They'd told him that if he went off lyrium not only would he lose his abilities, and possibly his mind, but his memories would fade too. He'd forget the past and become confused about the present. That was one of the reasons he'd asked Cassandra to keep a close eye on him.

But he hadn't forgotten anything. He hadn't forgotten the first day he'd seen her. He must have been about sixteen, on his first assignment at the Tower. She'd been living there for years already. Tall for her age, flame-red hair, soft pink lips that seldom smiled. The other mages had seen him as a weakling, an opportunity to get back at their handlers. Not that any of them ever tried anything physical. They wouldn't have gone that far. But they'd taken pleasure in his confusion, intentionally sent him in circles trying to find his barracks, slipping interesting items into his food. Not her. She'd always been kind. She'd taken pity on him, he supposed. On one particular occasion, a prank had sent his lunch tray flying. His meal had been scattered across the floor. She'd stopped to help him pick everything up and had quietly slipped him part of her own meal.

Perhaps that had been the moment he'd fallen in love with her.

Her shy smile when she'd sneakily transferred her currant bun onto his tray was burned into his memory. "I don't like raisins," she'd whispered.

He could remember that as clearly as he could remember her Harrowing, three years later. He'd thrown up the night before. He hadn't slept. He'd been so terrified his duty would demand he kill her. He'd been unable to stop shaking the entire time she'd been in the Fade. And when she'd passed the test in no more than a few minutes, he had been elated. He'd told everyone how amazed he'd been. In retrospect he must have sounded like a proud teacher rather than what he was, a degenerate with an ill-advised infatuation.

There had been no point to it, he'd known it. He was a Templar. She was his charge. It could never have gone anywhere. And besides, he could never even maintain a conversation with her. Every time she'd tried to speak to him, he'd stammered short, awkward answers or his voice had abandoned him completely. Throat tight, tongue too large for his mouth, it was as if she'd cast a spell on him.

Not exactly what any woman was looking for in a lover.

The very same day of her Harrowing, while he was still celebrating her victory as if it had been his own, she'd been caught up in something just as deadly. People who he'd respected, who should have been better, used her as a pawn in their little struggle for power. She'd done precisely as her First Enchanter had ordered, and had been outcast as a result. If the Grey Warden, Duncan, hadn't been there, she may well have been made tranquil. Instead, she had left, promised to the Wardens like some prize bronto.

Their loss, all of Ferelden's gain.

The next time he'd seen her, she'd been in the midst of saving the world. She'd come back to the Circle to assist a possessed child. She'd found it overrun by abominations. And she'd found him…

He'd babbled for a good few minutes about his forbidden feelings for her, and then begged her to kill… kill so many people. When she'd refused, he'd cursed her, he'd told her her compassion would be her undoing. He'd… he'd horrified her. Disgusted her. He'd seen it in her face, but back then he hadn't cared. He'd been incapable of feeling anything but pain and fear and lust for revenge.

She went on to be the Hero. He went on to Kirkwall. More death, more destruction.

When he'd first joined the Inquisition, Leliana had mentioned her. But Solana had disappeared after the Blight. No one knew where she'd gone. The last time anyone had seen her had been at Queen Anora's inauguration, when the new queen had granted her a boon. Solana had shocked the hall by asking that the Circles be dissolved. Of course that hadn't happened. Anora had instead granted her land to rebuild the Grey Wardens.

Solana had accepted graciously, saying she first wished to travel for a time.

Then she'd disappeared.

Many said that she had gone to the Deep Roads, as Wardens were wont to do, that she had known nothing but fighting darkspawn, so that even after the Blight ended that was what she returned to.

Leliana had eventually also come around to that belief.

And yet… here she was.

He could remember all of those details, and yet he'd somehow forgotten just how striking she was. Her squared shoulders, her flaming hair, those lips, that skin…

Cullen collapsed into the chair beside the fire and hid his head in his hands.

Seeing her again had stirred up things deep inside him, things he hadn't ever expected to feel again.

But now she hated him.

He was just as hopeless as he'd ever been, but it had never felt this terrible.

Haven had changed a lot in the years since Solana had last been there. For one thing, no cultist villagers trying to kill her. That made a nice change. The town was mostly an encampment now. Rows of tents filled every spare space and it had a lively camaraderie. The exact camaraderie that had been missing at the Warden keep. But there was little place to be alone, and she needed to be alone. She wasn't accustomed to being around others anymore.

Not far outside the main gates, she found a small lake – frozen over – with a jetty that offered a good view of the surrounding area. She sat at the end of it and thought back on the last hour.

They wanted to make her Inquisitor.

She'd declined, several times.

"But you're the only one who can do this," Leliana had insisted. "We need someone who can unite everyone under one banner for the common good. You've done it before."

Exactly. She'd done it before. She'd done it when she'd been young and foolhardy and desperate. And she'd lost everything.

She twisted the ring on her finger. She also hadn't been vulnerable to the Calling.

She'd suggested to Leliana that the strapping man who everyone was suddenly worshiping be given the job. People seemed to listen to him.

Solana only wanted their assistance with the Grey Warden situation. Which they'd be happy to provide, on condition she could wait until they got rid of that hole in the sky.

Could she wait? Or would her blood summon her to the Deep Roads before they were ready? And what of the other Wardens? What of Falin and Cassey and the tranquil? Could they wait?

A noise behind her startled her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you."

Cullen.

She rose slowly to her feet. His eyes darted away from hers. His hands were perched on his sword hilt and she didn't know what to make of that.

The silence between them grew uncomfortable.

"Nice scar," she said to break it.

He touched his lip, his mouth twitched. "Oh, yes. That's new. Well… relatively speaking."

He was still struggling to look at her. Why had he approached her if he hadn't wanted to-

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said softly.

His tone was unexpected. It brought back memories from before the abominations. He'd always been soft like that, and kind. Not like some of the other Templars.

When she didn't respond, his gaze flicked to hers again. "I wanted to… apologise."

"For what?"

He snorted, coming closer, gazing out at the lake, at his men training not far from where they stood. "Do you have to ask?" He glanced at her, then back out at the lake. "I was a different person the last time we saw each other. I wanted to assure you of that."

"You'd been tortured."

"Yes. And I'd seen things… corruptions… that I hadn't dreamed possible before. That doesn't excuse the things I said. Or the things I asked you to do. But I want you to know that I wouldn't… I'm not…" He wiped his face with his hand. "This sounded better in my head."

"You wanted me to know that you're not still seeking an opportunity to kill all mages?"

He seemed to turn a shade paler, which was impressive considering he was already almost as pale as the snowy backdrop behind him. He nodded. "You've heard we're allied with the mages now?"

"Don't tell me that was your idea?"

"It wasn't. But I… you're in no danger here. From me. Or anyone else. I mean, it's a good group of people."

"Did Leliana send you to try convince me to become the Inquisitor?"

"No. Although, if you think it might work, I'd be willing to give it a try?"

He offered her a smile, a smile that took her back years. It made her stomach clench. She'd forgotten that. What had happened at the Circle that dark day had erased everything that had come before.

"It won't."

"Tell me again what's happening with the Wardens?"

"They want to perform blood magic to raise an army of demons to attack the Old Gods before they wake and prevent any future blights." That was the gist of it, at any rate.

He blinked at her. "Blood magic, demons. Just like old times then?

She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a chill wind swept up off the ice. "I preferred the last apocalypse. At least then we knew what we were facing."

Chapter Text

Trevelyan skidded down the embankment with all the grace of a minor lord let out of his manor for the first time. He reached out at the last moment, catching a branch to steady himself.

Solana tried not to laugh.

"Leliana told me I'd find you here." He offered her a dazzling smile.

She pulled a thread taut, and looped it around again. "I'm not used to being around people."

A little way outside Haven's gates, along a woodland path, she'd found an old alchemist's cottage. The previous occupant had been at the conclave and no one had come to lay claim to what he'd left behind. She'd taken everything useful to the apothecary, Adan, and had moved herself into the empty room. It was peaceful and in the afternoon she could sit outside and help with whatever work she could find. At the moment she was stitching a net one of the Inquisition hunters had requested.

"How can I help you, Herald of Andraste?"

"You're mocking me."

She gave him a small smile, pulled the thread.

"We've found another Warden. In Ferelden."

Her fingers paused. "How curious."

"Leliana thought you might want to know. I'm going to Redcliffe to meet with him. Would you like to come along?"

"To Redcliffe?" Redcliffe was five days' ride each way. "Are you sure it's wise to go now? I thought you were supposed to be mending the sky?"

He chuckled. "Yes, apparently our mages need equipment and training. Don't worry, I'll be back in time for that. You didn't answer my question."

"Why me?"

He came closer, more sure-footed, hands on his hips. He had a slight swagger. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't partly for your celebrity. We need allies."

"You have the mages."

"There's a power vacuum in southern Thedas right now. Closing the Breach is only the beginning of what we need to do. Leliana said you yourself came through Redcliffe. You saw what it's like. The people need us."

"Spoken like a true noble."

"Does my title disturb you?"

She shrugged. "No, take it as a compliment. You want to make a positive difference and you honestly believe you can. That's good. I only wish I had your confidence. What makes you think people will follow you over, say, the queen?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to challenge her. That's not what I meant at all. But after what happened with the Venatori in Redcliffe, her position is rocky at best."

"And your Inquisition can provide stability?"

He leaned against the wall beside her, looking out toward the forest. "I hope it can. And it's not my Inquisition, it's ours. I thought you'd decided to stay?"

It's not like she had a choice. Assuring them of her assistance was the only way she'd been able to guarantee their help with the Wardens.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ser Trevelyan–"

"My name is Maxwell. Please call me Max?"

"Max. I imagine that people in Redcliffe will be very impressed that you've somehow lured the Hero of Ferelden down from the mountains to support your cause, but I'm not in the business of recruitment anymore. My army-building days are behind me."

"You speak as if you're ancient."

"Isn't that what legends are supposed to be?"

"I can never tell if you're serious." His green eyes darted to hers. "For what it's worth, you're not ancient. You saved the world at what, 19? I'm sure it all feels like downhill from there, but none would call you an old woman." Then with a crack of a smile, "There's time yet to save the world again."

She laughed. "No, I think this time you get that dubious honour."

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky, the Breach. "We can only hope."

After he left, Solana found it difficult to concentrate on her stitches. Perhaps she should have agreed. Perhaps a trip to Redcliffe would have distracted her from the thirst of the Calling. At the very least, it would have felt more constructive than sitting around waiting for them to close the Breach.

Something else he'd said nagged at her. Our mages need training.

Of course they did. Most of them would be Circle Mages, like Cassey and Falin, who had never seen any kind of battle outside of a Harrowing. They'd know how to channel magic, but only in the most basic of ways. The Circles never let you fully flex your powers. You were taught as much as you needed to suppress your abilities, govern them. What would be asked of them now would far surpass that.

She set the net down. She wasn't about to save the world again, but she could at least help.

"I want to train the mages."

Cullen stared at her. She'd found him in front of the gates, directing his raw recruits with one hand and signing reports with the other.

"They have enchanters." He turned and marched in front of his men. "Use your shield! It's not a decoration!"

"They have Circle enchanters." She trotted after him. "I've picked up other things over the years, things they don't teach there."

A flick of his eyes was indication that she should have chosen her words more carefully. He was suspicious of any magic that wasn't Chantry-approved.

"What you're asking of them – what the Inquisition expects of them – it's much more than they're trained for."

"The Herald will do most of the work. From what I understand, he merely needs to tap into their power."

"Spoken as one who doesn't understand the first thing about how magic works."

He stopped mid stride and turned back to her. The movement was so sudden that she almost walked into him.

"That's not true."

Of course it wasn't. He'd lived in the Circle for years.

"I didn't mean offence, Commander. But you're oversimplifying. Channeling raw energy is different for us. It's nothing like a lyrium high."

He swallowed, drew in a deep breath. When he didn't say anything, she persisted. "It requires a well of energy, of willpower, and a constant level projection of it without interruption. Asking mages without training to do that, it's asking for injury. To themselves, or to others."

"Which is why I didn't want to use them."

"No, I don't imagine you would have." Their eyes locked. Yes, she knew how he felt, still felt, about mages.

"And you think you can make them – safe – in a matter of days?"

She nodded. "I had to learn fast, myself."

Deep below the forgotten ruin, shivering and drained, werewolves hunting them, the sound of their sniffing, claws on stone. Leliana moaning in delirium from the poison, Alistair, eyes wide with panic, all that stood between them and near certain death. Yes, she'd learned fast.

"All right."

She blinked. "All right?"

He started walking again, hands drifting to his sword hilt. "All right, you may train them. On one condition."

"Which is?"

"I'm going to join you."

"Sorry, what?" He didn't slow down, even though she'd stopped. "Oh, you mean in case I take the opportunity to train them in blood magic?"

She said it with a smile, mocking him because she knew he wanted to be there as the obligatory Templar. In his book, no mage training could happen without a Templar present. Even the most innocent of lessons could result in abominations. But he turned to her again, looking mortified.

"No," he spluttered. "No I didn't mean…" and he closed the distance between them. "That's not what I meant at all." He dropped his voice. "I'm more concerned about someone losing control and getting hurt. As you… you were the one who said…"

She clamped her lips together, trying not to laugh at him, but her body trembled traitorously.

He sighed. "You were joking."

"For what it's worth, I've been told it's difficult to tell…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I… I'm not known for my sense of humour."

"It's all right. And it's all right if you want to supervise. They'd probably be glad of it."

"Oh, I doubt that. You do know that they've been fighting Templars for the last few months?"

"I've been told. But not all of them wanted to." She thought of Cassey, defending the tranquil. "It may come as a surprise to you, but we don't particularly enjoy the thought of being corrupted."

"I never said…"

"I, for one, always found your presence a comfort."

Had she really just said that?

He looked at her again, a look that was difficult to read. "Your" could have been plural. It wouldn't have been true, of course. Many of the Ferelden Templars had been brutes, not far different from the ones she'd met in the forest the day of the Breach. She'd heard stories of the things that some would do to the helpless mages they watched over. But not him, never him.

"I'll arrange a space for us." His voice was incredibly low, as if there was something stuck in his throat.

"Good. Thank you."

He was still looking at her in that strange way. "You're welcome."

"I was wondering when you'd seek me out." Fiona smiled mildly and set down her teacup. "I'd imagined it would be sooner."

Solana stood in the doorway of the Grand Enchanter's chambers, feeling a little confused. Was she expecting some move of mage solidarity?

"Sorry, I don't really involve myself in politics."

Sunlight streaked into the dark room from windows far above their heads, painting the floor in bright rectangles. As Fiona stood, her face was highlighted by one such beam. Fiona's eyes raked over Solana. She had an uncomfortably penetrating look.

"Yet, you requested the Circles be free."

Solana swallowed. "I'm not here about the mages. Well I am, but not in the sense you think."

"And what is it I think?"

"I don't know. You said you were expecting me?"

Fiona let out a breath and laughed softly, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Not regarding mages."

"What then?"

"Various other things." She said, cryptically. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Perhaps having something to drink would make Solana feel less awkward. "Yes, thank you. That would be nice."

She came further into the room. The Grand Enchanter lifted the kettle from the fireplace and poured fresh water into a delicate china teapot. Solana settled herself in the chair beside where Fiona had been seated. It was an old creaky wooden thing, and Solana wasn't sure it would even support her weight.

"I am curious about what you thought I was here for?"

Fiona brought the pot to the small table between their seats and laid it down gently. Solana was surprised to see her hands were shaking. "You were recruited by Duncan, weren't you?"

"Duncan the Grey Warden?" Of course, she meant Duncan the Grey Warden. "Yes, I was."

The mild smile returned to Fiona's lips. "We were good friends, he and I."

"Really?" That was hard to imagine. Why would Duncan be friends with a Circle Mage?

"Yes, we were initiated together."

"Initiated?"

"The Joining."

Solana was pretty sure her mouth dropped open. Her reaction must have been amusing because Fiona laughed again. "I see, you didn't know I was once a Warden. Forgive me, it is common knowledge."

"Were once? But how?"

"I wish I knew. Things… happened. And the taint was removed from me. After that, I was no longer welcome. Honey?"

Solana nodded numbly. "I… but…" Removed the taint? So she was not suffering The Calling. She hadn't been lured away like the others. "We need to find out how. The Wardens…"

"I know, I'm aware. You never mentioned to the Inquisition that The Calling was involved, but I assumed. Did I assume correctly?"

Again, Solana nodded. Fiona passed her a cup, then settled down beside her with a sigh. "You did well to keep the secret after so long."

"I didn't think it was important that they know."

"Ah, yes. And then there's the matter of your sanity, which you wouldn't want them to have cause to doubt." There was no accusation in her tone. Her expression was frank and open. "I know what The Calling does to one's mind. Which is one of the reasons I expected you sooner. I expected you'd come seeking a cure. I wish I could help you. I have looked, believe me."

"Only one of the reasons?"

"You picked up on that did you?" Fiona took another sip of her tea. "It's not important. I had assumed that Duncan may have said something to you of me, but if he didn't then that's of no concern."

Solana narrowed her eyes. "Were you two… involved?"

"No, no, nothing like that. But he was a good friend, as I said. I thought that perhaps he may have mentioned to you, or to… Alistair, to seek me out. As an ally if nothing else."

"To Alistair?"

"You were involved, weren't you?"

After so many years, why did it still feel like a cold punch to the stomach whenever someone said his name? "Yes. But… but not at the time when we knew Duncan. In truth, I didn't know Duncan very well. He… passed shortly after I was recruited." She stared down into her cup. "They were close, the two of them. He may have said something to Alistair about you."

"Is it true what they say?" Her tone had changed. Her voice had taken on an intensity. "Is it true that he sacrificed himself to take the final blow?"

"Duncan?" Solana didn't know exactly how Duncan had died. He'd died on the field of battle, probably defending his king.

"No." Fiona set her cup on the table, and her gaze stayed locked on it. No of course she didn't mean Duncan. The final blow.

A shiver chased through Solona. She didn't want to return to that moment, the moment that played itself over and over in her head whenever she let her guard down.

"Duncan trained him well," she said. "He did his duty." When Fiona didn't say anything, but continued to stare at the cup, Solana added, "Duncan would have been proud. We only… we only found out the night before that one of us had to do it. Riordan was going to do it. When he… couldn't, I thought I would be the one but Alistair… I think he felt responsible, because of his royal blood."

Fiona pulled away from the teacup, she had the look of someone drawing into herself.

"Sorry, you don't want to hear about Alistair. I wish I could tell you more about Duncan. He seemed like a good man."

"It's quite all right. He was a good man. And it seems that your Alistair was too."

"He was. A very good man."

Fiona's answering smile seemed fragile. Had she been lying about a relationship between her and Duncan? To what purpose? It didn't really matter, Solana supposed. The woman was entitled to her secrets.

"So, what did you really come here to enquire about, if not about The Calling?" she asked, sitting back with her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"I'd like to train the mages."

Chapter Text

Cullen had found them a space a little way from the main gates, partly isolated by trees. He stood at the ready; back straight, eyes locked ahead, as if preparing for war.

In front of him the Inquisition's mages stood in ranks. His doing, Solana assumed.

"Morning everyone, sorry for the delay." She approached them carrying a stool in one arm and a bucket of water in the other, which kept threatening to slosh out. Between that and the risk of it freezing over before they got anywhere, she was starting to wonder if the training exercise she had in mind was such a good idea.

Cullen must have seen her predicament because he rushed over to help, taking the stool so she could concentrate on the water.

"You can all relax," she said to her charges. "We're not going to be doing drills."

The last was aimed at the Commander, but she didn't see his reaction. She was focusing her attention on keeping the bucket steady.

I should have salted it. That would have helped.

She set it down on the stool in front of the mages and saw they hadn't shifted from their ranks.

"Really, this will be easier if you gather closer." They started shifting hesitantly towards her. "You needn't be afraid of me."

She looked to Cullen for guidance, but he was grim-faced and glaring at them. She sighed. Agreeing to have him here may not have been the wisest idea after all.

"What I want to show you here today is an exercise in control. When you close the Breach, you're going to need to channel energy in a specific direction and have complete command over it."

Solana reached out over the surface of the water and slowly raised her hand. As if drawn by magnetic force, a thin stream rose with it, out of the bucket and into the air. She closed her hand into a fist, and the water likewise balled.

"I'm not controlling the water," she said. "I'm controlling my magic around the water." As if to emphasize the point, she let the water drop, to be caught in an invisible cup above the edge of the bucket.

"The Circle teaches you barriers. What I'm doing is little different, but requires far more control." She rolled the water in its non-existent container, keeping it moving so it didn't freeze. The surface sparkled in the sunlight.

Cullen wasn't standing far away. In fact, he was within arm's reach.

Hmmm...

"Don't worry, Commander. It's not dangerous." With a small gesture, a tendril of water reached out from the cup. She glanced at him. He was watching with interest. She gave a flick of a finger and the water leapt forward, splashing him in the face.

Cullen yelped and stumbled backwards.

The mages roared with laughter, their earlier tension forgotten.

Cullen wiped his face with his hand and she felt a little bad for him. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh no, not at all." But it was important that the mages realise that he wasn't in charge here, that they had nothing to fear. "But I did enjoy it." She offered him a smile.

To her surprise, he smiled back. He pursed his lips, as if trying to control the expression and failing. Then he shook his head and sighed.

"Who wants to try?" She called to the mages. "The control part not… wetting the Commander."

"No, I'd appreciate it if you didn't attempt that part," Cullen added. He still seemed to be struggling with his expression. The rebellious smile kept pulling at the corners of his mouth, thwarting any attempt to look stern.

Her heart gave an unwelcome thud at that smile.

So, she still found him attractive. Who wouldn't? He was classically handsome, the epitome of the gallant knight. But he didn't trust mages. And besides, she had enough to concern herself with, without adding complications like desire.

Tentative mages stepped forward a few at a time and she showed them the basic concept behind her trick. Some were better at it than others. She was dealing with vastly different skill levels. The young apprentices could barely lift the water, some of them couldn't at all. But the more seasoned mages mastered the spell in a few gestures and they smiled with delight as they played with the water. Their expressions were a reminder of just how restrictive the Circle had been.

You did as you were told. You didn't play.

"I hate to break up the party," Cullen said after some time. "I have drills, I have to go."

Had it been an hour already? She nodded acknowledgement and instructed the mages to return at the same time the next day.

"You want help with this?" Cullen lifted the bucket.

"No, it's alright. Your men are waiting for you."

"I have some time."

She didn't need the help. She'd been living alone for a decade. She was strong enough to manage, and if the water poured out over her feet on the way back to the little cottage, it hardly mattered.

"Okay, thank you, that would be nice," she said, regardless.

She took the stool and they cut through the trees, walking in silence. She admired the way he moved, a perfect combination of grace and control. Did they teach that in Templar training or was that just how he was?

"Interesting tactic," he said at length.

"Oh, the cup trick? It seemed to go down well. Did you see some of their faces? They'd never been allowed to experiment like that before."

"No, not that trick." He glanced at her and allowed himself a lop-sided smile.

Her heart skittered again. "You mean when I attacked you."

A low chuckle. "Yes."

"I wasn't doing it to humiliate you."

"Yes, you were. You were doing it to cut me down to size, so your students weren't intimidated by my presence."

It was her turn to offer him a smile. He'd seen through her. "For what it's worth, I didn't plan it in advance. It came to me in the moment. You were standing there, so stern…"

"I should point out that it's my duty to look stern."

"… and I wanted to make you smile."

His step faltered.

She was mortified by her own frankness. There were many ways he could interpret the statement. She didn't know whether she should backpedal or let it sit there, innocently hanging between them.

"Are you all right, Commander?"

"Yes," he didn't look at her. "Yes, perfectly."

He cleared his throat, but other than that made no other sound for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, he strode past her, bending to inspect one of the tangled shrubs at the side of their path. "Look, blackberries."

She watched with interest as he hunkered down, examining the plant. "I haven't seen these in years."

She went to join him, sinking to her haunches beside him. "Personally, not a fan."

He chuckled again, "Yes, I remember. Raisins, berries, any small fr-" he stopped, glancing at her furtively. "I'm sorry, I have a strange memory for details."

He remembered her dietary preference? She longed to ask him what else he remembered about her. "That's quite impressive."

A flicker of a smile. "It can be useful. Though not as often as one would think."

"Stand for a second?"

"What?" His brow creased, but he followed her instruction.

She kicked over the bucket, sending icy water and mud in a small stream back the way they'd come. "There you go, Commander. As a thank you for arranging today. And… as an apology too, for that 'tactic'."

He stared at her blankly.

"The bucket. Fill it with berries."

"Oh, I… no, I couldn't. I should get back."

With a sigh, she crouched again and plucked one of the juicier bunches, plopping it into the empty bucket. "Come on, Commander, many hands make light work."

He joined her, sitting so close that they were almost touching. "This brings back memories." She watched his deft fingers as they made quick work of the bush. "My sister and I always used to go berry picking around this time of year".

His sister. Well, it was better she remind him of that than abomination-about-to-occur.

"Before you joined the Templars?"

"Yes. We'd take full baskets to mother who'd boil them into jam. Of course, we would have eaten our fill on the way home. I still remember the one time they were already over-ripe. So many berries burst in our fingers that we were sticky right up to our elbows. We never heard the end of it. She had to wash our clothes three times to get all of the juice out."

Solana laughed, trying to imagine Cullen ever being anything but perfectly immaculate.

"I wish I had memories like that."

"You don't have memories from your childhood?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "My very first memory is of the Chantry at the Circle. They were reading us the Chant of Light."

"Oh, I didn't realise… that's truly your first memory, the Chant?"

"It sounds far more holy than it is. I was desperate for the bathroom, but had to sit through six verses before they'd let me leave. The true miracle that day was how I didn't wet myself."

Cullen burst out laughing, a proper belly laugh with his head thrown back. It was the first time she'd ever heard him laugh, aside from the odd chuckle. It was a deep melodious sound and if his smile did things to her, that was nothing compared to what was happening now. He seemed to come back to himself, covering his mouth, eyes rolling to meet hers. "That's truly your first memory?"

She was flushed with warmth, the pleasant kind that made her tingly. She would have told him anything in that moment. "My first proper one. The others are more – snippets. A pigeon landing on the window sill, light dancing across glass. I think my mother's hair was red like mine, but I don't recall her face."

"You aren't curious about who she was?"

"No, not really. She gave me over to the Circle."

"It's possible she had little choice. If your powers manifested early."

"Yes. I know that."

"Sorry, I didn't –"

"It's okay. My parents did the right thing. I just mean, the Circle was the only home I knew before I was recruited to the Wardens. It's difficult to miss something you've never had."

Alistair had. He'd wanted a family more than anything. When she'd rescued him from the sloth demon that had trapped him dreaming his deepest desire, he'd been with his sister, entertaining nieces and nephews. Her gaze dropped to the ring automatically, the feeling of warmth dissipating.

"It must have been difficult for you, seeing it destroyed like that," Cullen said softly.

He'd misinterpreted her sudden change, and she was grateful for it. "It was."

"I can only imagine. It was my home for only a few years but seeing what ha-" he swallowed. "It was never really the same after that. They rebuilt but…" He trailed off. She noticed he was no longer picking berries, his hands were paused at the bush, the tips of his fingers sticky with juice. He blinked and shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad memory. "I should get back."

"Thank you for the help."

"Thank you for the berries." He rose to his feet and picked up the bucket.

"See you later?"

"Yes." He gave her a small, guarded smile.

Chapter Text

The Circle Mages weren’t very good at looking after themselves. Many, like Solana, had been raised in the Circles, where they'd had everything provided for them. They arrived at Haven almost skeletal with hunger, injured and traumatised by the war they’d suddenly found themselves in the middle of. 

The Inquisition had been promised allies, not charges, but it was painfully obvious from day one that these particular allies needed more than a helping hand. It was organised without much fuss. They were given accommodation – not at all up to the standards they were accustomed to, but warm enough when the braziers were lit. And every night the entire Inquisition dined together. Meals were prepared on large open fires and soldiers, Chantry, mages and Templars sat site-by-side eating pieces of meat and whatever grilled vegetables had been sourced that day.

When the smell of roasting meat drifted to Solana’s little cottage on the breeze, she’d bundle up in her cloak and go join them. The company was nice and the food was better than anything she’d be able to prepare herself.

This time, there was someone waiting for her outside her door. It was a petite blonde woman in dusty robes. She didn’t carry a staff – dangerous in these woods.

She startled when Solana came out of the cottage, then cleared her throat. "Good evening, Hero, I wanted to have…” She gazed down at her feet. “I’d like to talk to you, if I may?”

“It’s just Solana.” She corrected her automatically. “How long have you been waiting out here?”

The woman offered a shaky smile. “Not too long. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“They’ll be serving food soon. Come on, we can talk while we walk.” She started toward the path that she’d taken with Cullen earlier in the day. The mage walked along beside her, in uncomfortable silence.

Eventually Solana prompted, “Is this about the lesson? We’re going to go through the technicalities again tomorrow. Don’t worry if you haven’t fully grasped it yet.”

The woman shook her head. Her thin hair lashed from side to side, catching the orange light of the setting sun. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“Long ago, yes. I… My name’s Celeste.” She took a deep breath. “You... spared my life at the Ferelden Circle.”

And then Solana knew. Curled up on the floor, shivering, staring up at her with big, green eyes. The maleficar. Her friends had become abominations. She’d begged Solana for her life and Solana had given it to her.

“I remember now.” Her hair had been red then.

“I wanted to assure you that I’m not, that I haven’t… I don’t do that anymore,” the girl babbled. “I thought you’d recognise me and tell – please don’t tell the Commander.”

She was Cullen’s worst fear, a blood mage who’d slipped into their ranks. An unpredictable element, a couple of spells away from becoming an abomination.

“The Commander only wants to keep everyone safe.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not a danger. I promise.”

Had she been involved in his torture? “You know what happened to him at the Circle?”

“I don’t… not personally. But I can imagine. Some of them were… cruel to the Templars.”

Cruel, yes, that was one way to put it. All who hadn't evacuated in time had been tortured to death. All except Cullen, who had somehow held on long enough to be rescued. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t take you to him right now?”

The mage swallowed. “If you feel you need to, I… I will come willingly. I’m not armed. But you should know that I haven’t practiced blood magic since then, nor would I want to. I only sought my freedom.”

“And you were happy to kill others to obtain it?”

“No! No not happy. I…” she took a deep breath. “I have a son. He’s ten now and living with his aunt in Denerim. I did what I did for him.”

“You were pregnant?”

The woman stared straight ahead, expression grim. “The Templar wanted me to terminate.”

“The Templar?”

“The father.”

“I see.” If their relationship had been discovered, they both would have been punished. He would have been thrown out of the Order, possibly died from Lyrium withdrawal. The child would have been taken by the Chantry, raised in an orphanage. 

“Please believe me when I say I didn’t want to hurt anyone but him.”

“You wanted to hurt the father of your child?” The mage was silent and realisation dawned on Solana. “Oh.” She felt sick. “Why didn’t you report him? If he… they’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

Celeste gave a hollow laugh. “It would have been my word against his. He assured me that Knight-Commander Greagoir would have had me made tranquil, but not before I felt his own wrath. I was young and scared. I don’t know if I would have taken the same course of action now. I’ve seen what… I’ve seen abominations. I saw what became of the Tower.”

Solana didn’t know what to say. They could see the fires through the trees now and hear the sound of laughter and many people talking. She wanted to tell Cullen, she wanted him to see why the Circles were such a bad idea. But she didn’t know how he’d react. Templars were supposed to kill maleficarum.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.” The woman smiled. “I won’t forget this, Solana. I promise I won’t let you down.”

Cullen had spent the better part of the day trying not to smile. It was like the corners of his mouth were bewitched, they kept moving upwards of their own accord.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

I wanted to make you smile…

She’d really said that. She’d said other things too, but they were more difficult to interpret. Like how she’d found his presence a comfort – had it been his presence? Or the presence of all Templars?

What she'd said about making him smile could be explained away too, he reasoned. It could be that he scared the mages with his dour expression. And even if she had meant that she wanted him to be happy, that in itself had a variety of possible interpretations. But all of them came to the same main point: she didn’t hate him.

She didn’t hate him and maybe they could even be friends. It had been good talking to her, sharing stories about their past. Words had come easily for once. Oh, he’d get splashed in the face and publicly humiliated a million times for more chances like that.

And he laughed at himself because he knew he was behaving like a lovestruck teenager. He should be more level-headed. He was the military leader of the Inquisition. Yet his smile kept escaping his control.

Solana always sat with the Inquisition’s council when they ate. He expected this was due to her friendship with Leliana. The past nights, Leliana and her had talked together softly, catching up on the years they’d been apart. But this time when Cullen arrived, Solana was in the middle of sharing a story.

“And the acorn was his only child!”

Josephine groaned and shook her head. “But you’d traded for the book?”

“Yes. And he didn’t want anything else I had.”

Varric, Dorian and Solas had gone with the Herald and Cassandra was out on patrol, so perhaps a smaller group had brought her out of her shell.

He settled down next to Josephine. “I seem to have missed the part of this story that made sense.”

Leliana laughed. “Solana is recounting the story of how she got her staff.”

“I’m not certain how much of it I believe,” Josephine said. She was grinning. “But do continue.”

“So to recap for our Commander,” Solana’s eyes met his for a second and his heart leapt. “We were in the West Brecilian Forest when we encountered an old hermit who’d gone insane.”

Leliana jumped in, “Solana felt for him and wanted to give him a pair of boots. But he wouldn’t accept charity, only trade.”

“Actually, it was Alistair who felt for him,” Solana corrected her. “He insisted we didn’t move on until we’d helped him.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Regardless,” Solana’s attention turned back to Cullen. “He had three items in his possession. A book, a rusty helmet and an acorn.”

“And you chose the book?” He guessed, based on what he’d heard when he’d joined them.

“I thought reading material would be the most useful.”

“But she was wrong.” Leliana’s full smile was as beautiful as it was rare. “A little later we come to a clearing, and in the centre was the Grand Oak, an ancient sylvan. It knew the secrets of the forest.”

Cullen shook his head. “You expect me to believe you spoke to a tree?”

“Oh yes, Commander. And it spoke in rhyme.”

Josephine giggled and Cullen was pretty sure it was at his expense. “You forgot to mention the part with the werewolf.”

“Yes, of course.” Leliana leaned forward, speaking softly with the dramatic flair of a trained bard. “The reason we were in the forest in the first place. The Spirit of the Forest resided at the centre, leading a pack of werewolves.”

“The spirit. Of the forest?” Cullen noticed there were others listening now, many seemingly as incredulous as he.

“Leliana is making it sound more fantastical than it was,” Solana explained. “The spirit had been bound by a mage. We needed to deal with the wolves in order to secure the assistance of the Dalish clans against the Blight, and she was the key. But she’d warded the part of the forest where she resided to protect her pack. We were wandering the woods seeking a way through.”

“Which is when we encountered the Grand Oak,” Leliana said. “He had the knowledge of the forest, and he had a way we could get through the spirit’s barrier. But guess what he wanted in return? The acorn! Apparently the very acorn that the hermit had socked away was the Oak Tree’s only child.”

“But you didn’t have anything left to trade with him?” Josephine asked. “What did you do?” she was looking to Solana.

Solana’s eyes dropped to her hands, where she began twisting that ring of hers. “Some of the Dalish who had become wolves remembered their old lives. There was one who asked us to – to put her out of her misery. She gave me a scarf of hers to take back to her husband in the village.”

Josephine sighed. “I thought this was going to be a happy story.”

“You wanted the truth,” Leliana shrugged. “The scarf wasn’t his wife any more than that ring is Alistair.”

It was as if a bucket of icy water dropped on the group. Solana’s eyes snapped up to Leliana’s. She stopped playing with the ring. For a moment the two women simply stared at each other. Then Solana cleared her throat.

“The hermit didn’t have much by way of clothing and it was heading into winter. We offered him the scarf, and he was willing to trade.”

Cullen was acutely aware that the mood had changed. He recognised the expression she was wearing. He’d seen it on his own face in the mirror often enough. Guilt and regret. “You may well have saved his life. Hypothermia is no small matter.”

Solana gave him a small smile. “Well, the tree was delighted. I can tell you, without reservation, that I have never seen a tree so happy.”

Josephine had a good false laugh, as far as false laughs went. She’d probably honed it over years of courtiering. He chuckled too, because he appreciated Solana’s attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that it could talk,” he said.

“So, it gave you the secret to breaching the spirit’s barrier?” Josephine queried.

Solana nodded and reached for her staff, which she wore strapped to her back at all times. It was a gnarled piece of wood with a rune affixed to the very top. Cullen had never realised how short it was before. “And that’s how I got my staff.”

“So, am I to assume that you defeated the spirit of the forest?” Cullen prompted.

Solana’s lips curved into an almost-smile. “Actually, we negotiated with her. But, that’s a tale for another day.” She rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I find myself quite exhausted.” She gave them a small nod of farewell. Her gaze fell on Cullen, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nodded.

Josephine followed not long after, and Cullen found himself alone with Leliana. Someone had picked up a lute and was playing a jolly song that did nothing to lift his spirits.

At length he asked, “She and that Alistair, they were close?”

Leliana didn’t flinch at the sudden question. “Oh, yes.” She was watching the fire, nodding along to the tune. “They would have married had they the opportunity.”

“Ah.”  That explained the ring. He’d noticed it earlier in the day too, the way she twisted it whenever deep in thought or uncertain.

 “He was the love of her life,” Leliana said. The spymaster must have been uncharacteristically oblivious to the effect of her words. She was wistful as she spoke, as if telling one of her bard stories. “I don’t know if she’ll ever truly be over that loss.”

Then she turned to Cullen, with a little quirk of a smile. “Why Commander, you don’t still carry a torch for her?”

She’d been privy to all his insane confessions at the Circle.

“Of course not.”

By the way she eyed him, he could tell she didn’t believe him.

He looked away from her. “It’s been far too long for that.”

“As you say, Commander.”

Cullen was waiting for her, with the bucket at his feet, when Solana arrived for their morning training session.

She smiled with relief. “I thought you might forget it.”

His eyes darted away from hers. “I wasn’t certain you still wanted it.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

They stood in silence. It would be a few minutes before the other mages arrived.

“I filled it up with water,” Cullen said eventually. “I assumed you would be performing the same exercises as yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He still wasn’t looking at her.

“Is something the matter, Commander?”

He startled. “No. No, nothing’s the matter. Nothing at all.”

“If I did or said anything to make you uncomfortable…”

His eyes met hers for a second. They were the colour of honey. He seemed about to speak when they heard the mages approaching. Solana turned towards them, but Cullen caught her arm.

“You didn’t,” he said quickly. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Then why did his eyes look so pained? Her heart was pounding in her throat at his touch, even though they were separated by robe and cloak and glove.

He moved away, standing to attention. She tried to gather herself for the lesson ahead.

Cullen watched her working with the mages and it made his heart swell. She was a natural tutor, accomplished and kind. She’d joke with them about old instructors at the Ferelden Circle and he’d find himself chuckling along. She’d lightly tease when the younger mages made the same mistake more than once. But she was never harsh or cruel. By the end of the hour, even the least accomplished were pouring water from invisible cups. And more, the atmosphere had changed. The mages were laughing and patting each other on the back. The one even did a little dance when she finally got the spell right.

He could admire Solana from a distance like this, like he always had. He needed to accept that was all there would ever be. Perhaps they could even be friends, colleagues.

But her heart, that he could never have. Even if there hadn’t been so much politics between them, if she hadn’t been a mage and he hadn’t been a Templar. If he had never said those things to her at the Circle. There would still be the ghost of the bastard prince.

This should be enough. It would be enough. He’d accept it. He had to, for his own sanity.

“Commander?”

He started, realising she and the rest of the mages were looking at him expectantly. So much for being their guardian.

Solana seemed amused. “Welcome back. I was just saying, I think we should meet out on the lake tomorrow, by the old fisherman’s hut?”

“Yes, of course.” He couldn’t imagine why.

“There you have it. I look forward to seeing what you all can accomplish with more water at your disposal.”

More water… wait, what?  

She meant to use the lake water for her exercises? There was nothing he could do now, he’d already agreed and the mages were heading back towards Haven chattering excitedly.

She’d played him. He could tell by the way she was smiling at him. She knew he hadn’t heard her plan.

“Don’t look so terrified, it will be fine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure I can pull Frederick and Davidson of their duty shifts to assis-“

She touched his arm and all thoughts flew out of his head. She was standing close. Too close. And looking up into his face. “It will be fine,” she repeated.  

Sweet Andraste he wanted to kiss her.

The craving was almost worse than lyrium. Like a physical force pulling at him, telling him to take her in his arms right then and kiss her.

The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that she wouldn’t want it. At best it would frighten her, at worse she’d see it as a betrayal of trust. Either way one kiss would ruin what little they had, their budding friendship. And he wouldn’t put that at risk for anything.

He cleared his throat and stepped away.

“Do you – would you like help back to your cottage again?”

“If it’s not a bother?”

“It’s no trouble at all”.

“What were you thinking about?”

They’d been walking in companionable silence for some time, him carrying the bucket, her the stool.

“Hmm?” 

“You seem distracted today,” she pressed. “Inquisition business?”

“Yes.”

“Well what is it? Maybe I can help?”

“Oh, it’s always something.” A small half-smile. “I’d rather we talk about you.”

“Me?” A nervous knot tightened in her stomach.

“Where have you been all these years? I mean, I know where you’ve been. I meant, well, I’m sure you have stories. I’m sure you’ve seen a great many incredible things.”

“Like talking trees?”

His low chuckle sent her head reeling. “Yes. Like talking trees.”

“Has Leliana told you about the dragon?”

“The… no. No, she has not.”

“Well, then let’s start with that.” 

Chapter Text

The morning sun glinted off the ice. Solana was already at the place where they'd agreed they'd meet, stepping across the frozen lake on her tiptoes and prodding at the surface with her staff. She looked like an Orlesian dancer, the kind whose movements required a detailed programme to decode. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot, and her cloak swished from side to side as she moved.

"Need some help?" Cullen called to her.

Her answering smile flushed him with warmth. "Did you manage to get those men? The ones you were going to move off their duty shifts?"

"No, I…" He hadn't bothered. He'd convinced himself he was being paranoid. Or, if he was to be honest, he'd been concerned that she might think him paranoid.

She came closer, she was still smiling – a good sign. "Well then I'm going to have to enlist you."

"Enlist-?"

"We need to break the ice. I've marked places where it's already thin."

"You're not concerned we'll fall in?"

"Not if we're careful."

They spent the next few minutes carefully cracking the ice and Cullen wondered if there was anyone else he would so gladly do menial labour for. When the first mages arrived, Solana issued them the same instructions she'd given him. Eventually they had a patch of open water near the bank and Solana stood back with her hands on her hips, satisfied.

"Alright. Let's get things started. We're going to do the same spell, but on a larger scale."

She raised both arms slowly and the water rose with them, into a wall of liquid. She cut the air with a gesture, and then she was holding the water again as if in a giant bowl.

"You'll want to be careful, it's quite heavy." He could see from her posture that her muscles were straining. She held it for only a moment, then tilted her magic to the side, letting the water pour back into the lake.

Show off, he thought. But his cheeks did that thing again where he couldn't help but smile.

She cautioned the mages to start small, and then came to stand with him to observe the fallout. They were far less successful than she had been. One almost fell into the water with the weight of it. The others seemed to struggle to hold the spell for very long, with the water splashing back onto the lake to great dramatic effect.

"You see what I mean?" Solana asked.

Cullen didn't know what she meant. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, her eyes were bright, keenly watching her charges. He couldn't stop staring.

When he didn't respond she turned her full attention to him. "You see how they struggle to hold the spell for more than a few minutes? Imagine the Herald was at their mercy."

As if to underscore her statement, another spell failed, sending icy water into the lake at such a velocity that everyone nearby had to jump back to avoid getting wet.

What reaction was she looking for? If he said he was afraid of what the mages might do if let loose on the Breach, she'd no doubt think him the same old paranoid Templar. If he gave her empty assurances, that would mean being dishonest. He was nervous of the mages. He wished the Inquisition had asked the Templars for help instead.

But that would have denied him these precious hours with her.

"You seem to manage," he said.

"I've been out of the Circle for years."

"I only meant your skill is impressive. I have full confidence that you'll be able to train them in time."

Her lips moved into a smile, "Is that a compliment, Commander?"

"I'm merely stating the truth."

Yes, it had been a compliment. And an incredibly clumsy one at that. He fixed his gaze on the mages again.

The blood mage, Celeste, stepped hesitantly up the edge of the ice.

Solana could see she was nervous. That didn't bode well at all. She tensed automatically, various protection spells coming to the ready.

The woman held her pale hands out over the water. Nothing happened. A look of panic crossed her features, but still nothing happened. There was murmuring from the others, a few shouted jokes.

Hmm, what was this? This didn't make a lot of sense. Those who practiced blood magic were usually naturally powerful. It's how they managed to convince demons to teach them.

She wasn't the first to fail, but her failure was certainly the most curious.

Solana approached her carefully, not wanting to startle her. Celeste had her eyes pressed closed as if she was in pain.

In pain… or frightened.

"You don't have to be afraid of your power," Solana said quietly, keeping her voice low so that the other nearby mages couldn't hear.

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are. I can see it." She reached around to clasp the woman's hand. She was icy cold. "Breathe. Cullen's not going to hurt you. Keep your eyes closed, feel the power." Solana moved to the side. A wall of water was beginning to rise out of the lake. "That's it, feel the power. Embrace it."

It was a lot of water, almost the same amount as Solana had raised. "Alright. Now, control it."

The water continued to rise. "I said control it."

"I'm trying."

She attempted to do as Solana had and cup it. She managed, but her magic continued to lift it, up and up, far above their heads.

"You're doing well, just hold it there."

"It's heavy."

Celeste was sweating, her eyes were still squeezed shut. Higher and higher the water rose.

"You can drop it." Solana said, not unkindly. "Let it drop over the lake, we'll try again."

"I can't… I don't want to lose… control."

"It's all right. We'll do the exercise again. Drop the water."

It stayed hovering.

"Drop the –"

And then she did. Except it wasn't over the lake, it was over Solana. Whole gallons of icy water dropped over her head. The pain of impact was dwarfed only by the shock of the cold. She was instantly drenched, spluttering.

The mages were laughing.

And then warm hands were swinging her around, brushing her hair out of her face. Cullen was there. He wrapped his surcoat tightly around her shoulders. The fur brushed her cheek. She was ensconced in his smell, the warmth of him, and she forgot how to breathe.

Did he notice the way he stopped her heart?

"You'll get cold," she said, stupidly, because he still had his armour, and he was dry.

"Not as cold as you, I'd wager." He was still holding the surcoat, and holding her by extension. Then the unthinkable happened. Cullen wrapped an arm around her and drew her in close.

"I'm going to get the Hero in front of a fire," he called to the mages. "We'll meet back here tomorrow."

The Hero.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Celeste was somewhere nearby.

"I'm all right. I'll be fine." Solana tried to speak, but her chattering teeth were making it difficult.

"We can use the Herald's quarters, they're nearest." Cullen was already guiding her – marching her – towards Haven. Her legs could hardly keep up.

They got a few looks as they passed the gates. No doubt everyone would know what had happened within the space of an hour.

Cullen shouldered the door to Max's lodgings open with a grunt, keeping his arms tightly around her.

"Get into bed."

Had she been in a better state of mind, she may have given him some witty retort, but now she stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"Wrap up in the covers, I'll light the fire." He was already on his knees, striking matches. The fireplace had been prepared, kindling and all. Did they ready it daily just in case their Herald should return? She pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself as flames roared to life in the grate.

"Here, come here."

She shuffled over to him. He rose, eyes locked on hers. He was standing oh so close. He reached out and she jumped.

"Sorry."

"No I… it's all right."

He touched his surcoat. "It's a little big for you." A flicker of a smile. She nodded.

"You need to get out of those. Um." His gaze dropped to his feet. "Those wet robes. You need to. I'm going to stand outside. You should find some of the Herald's spare – the dresser."

"Don't go."

Maker, what was she saying?

He didn't look up at her again. "I'll be right outside, just a minute. While you um. Dress."

He left and with trembling fingers she stepped out of her boots and stripped off her sodden robes, hanging his surcoat neatly over a hook by the door. As he'd tried to indicate, there was an array of clean clothing in the dresser. She selected a long night shirt. She'd just pulled it over her head when Cullen's gentle knock came and she bade him enter. He continued to avert his eyes, although he stooped to pick up the blanket – still lying by the fire – and hand it to her.

Only when she'd bundled up again did he raise his gaze.

"Feeling better?

She nodded.

His eyes traveled to her clothing, lying in a pile across the room, then back to his feet. Was he embarrassed?

"I'm hardly exposed." Her voice was still quaking from the cold.

"What?"

"How much of my flesh do you see right now?"

"I… why would you ask that?"

He flushed and she immediately regretted asking. She shouldn't be making fun of him when he'd been so kind.

"I'm wearing dry clothing. And a blanket. You have nothing to fear."

"Fear?"

"You don't have to fear seeing anything untoward."

"Untoward…" he repeated, his eyes traveled back to the clothing. Then he seemed to realise what she'd said. His attention snapped back to her and he looked like he might be sick.

She started laughing. She couldn't help it. She tried, clamping a hand over her mouth. But that meant dropping one corner of the blanket and it fell open, giving him a view of the nightshirt.

His eyes went wide and then he turned and made for the door.

"No, don't go. I'm sorry." She gathered the blanket around her again.

He was breathing heavily, but he'd paused.

"If I promise not to let the blanket drop again, will you stay a while? I…"

She didn't have an excuse prepared. Saying she felt awkward in the Herald's room while he wasn't here was true, but felt weak. Saying she felt frightened wouldn't work. She was the Hero, she wasn't supposed to get frightened. The fact that she wanted his company, that she'd been looking forward to talking to him as they walked home, didn't seem a strong enough reason to compel him. She let the sentence drop.

Maker.

One flimsy layer of clothing between him and her skin. All the reason in the world to take her in his arms. And she kept saying these things. Was she playing with him intentionally? Had she cottoned on to how he felt and was now making light?

No. No, she thought him an embarrassed little Chantry boy. He could tell from her laughter. If only she knew the reason he wanted to leave was not his embarrassment but his urges. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything. Years of yearning coupled with freshly discovered desire. And there was a bed right there. A bed and a romantic fire. And she was so cold. She needed his warmth. She was still standing there shivering, wet hair clinging to her face and neck. He should lift it, replace it with his lips.

Maker.

His very skin was tingling. If he didn't leave soon she'd see the effect she had on him for herself.

But he couldn't leave when she'd asked him to stay. He was physically incapable. Instead he put space between them, moving to collect her clothing from the floor. It should be hung up by the fire to get dry. It should be…

Underclothes. He forgotten about underclothes.

They were there on the pile (he hadn't touched them, thank Andraste), but that meant she wasn't wearing…

Maker grant me strength.

He picked up the robes, just the robes. He closed his eyes and pretended he hadn't seen there was more. Deep breaths. He took her robes to the fireplace and hung them over a chair. They were still dripping, it would be a while before they were dry.

"You didn't need to do that," she said.

"They should… you'll need them." What about her made him this stammering mess?

She climbed into the other chair, carefully tucking the blanket around her.

Hair. Her hair was wet. He crossed the room, retrieved a cloth and handed it to her. When she raised her eyebrows in question he couldn't find a single word to explain what he meant. He wanted to dry it himself, to run his fingers through it, He nodded mutely to her hair.

"Oh, yes." She said. She unpinned it. It tumbled down to her shoulders in glossy wet curls.

Sweet Andraste.

He needed to sit. Preferably somewhere with a cushion that he could… hide behind.

He perched on the chair where he'd hung up her robes. She was too busy drying her hair to notice anything.

Say something.

"You um… you didn't finish the story. About finding the temple. After… after the dragon."

Her eyes moved to his. A playful smile. "Oh, I'd say it's your turn."

"My turn?" He was struggling to get a single sentence out, how could he tell her a story?

"Tell me about Kirkwall."

That wasn't what he'd expected. He swallowed. "Kirkwall?" He really needed to stop repeating everything she said.

"Everyone keeps expecting me to know what happened there. I know there was a mage uprising. I know you were involved with the Templars. I assume you were trying to suppress the uprising?"

Well, this was an appropriately sobering topic of conversation.

He nodded. "Yes, at first."

"Only at first?"

"Well," where to start? "Knight-Commander Meridith was… unwell. Understand, she wanted to keep everyone safe. Mages and the other citizens of Kirkwall alike. She was deeply respected, even by the Viscount. But then she came into contact with a… strange weapon. She became obsessed with the danger the mages posed, taking increasingly stringent measures – she even entertained ideas about standardising the tranquillity. The mages, as one would expect, started to fight back. Small groups at first, cells that she – we – dealt with easily. But then Varric's friend got involved."

"Falcon?"

He smiled. "Close. Hawke. But no, another friend. Hawke's lover. He was possessed by a demon – I only found out later. A justice demon."

"That sounds bad."

"It was. He blew up the Chantry."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Yes." He agreed with her unspoken horror. "Fighting the mages when they were rallying behind him was one thing… but then I discovered that Meridith had ordered the Right of Annulment. She planned to kill every single mage in that city. And if the right wasn't granted in time, she'd do it with her own hands."

"You being one of her hands?"

He nodded. "In essence."

"What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?"

She looked at him carefully. "I remember a time when you would have been the one calling for that right."

A chill lump settled in his chest. "I know."

"Something tells me you weren't this time?"

"No. I… turned on her."

Solana's eyebrows shot up. "You committed mutiny?"

"Essentially, yes."

Her mouth curved. "I never would have thought."

"I joined the Templars to protect innocents, Solana. Not to hunt mages."

His stern response surprised even him. And it certainly surprised her. She stared at him. He realised it was the first time he'd used her name in over a decade. He'd been saying it in his head, like a mantra. He'd been afraid of saying it out loud in case he imbued it with everything he'd been feeling when thinking it. But he certainly hadn't done that now.

"I…" she looked down at her lap. Her hands were tucked away under her blanket, but he imagined she was playing with that ring again. "I know that, Cullen."

Like a bolt of magic to his chest, hearing his name from those lips. She hadn't said it in years either. And now he only wanted to hear it again and again. What was wrong with him? She hadn't even used it fondly.

Her eyes flicked up to his. "I was remarking on, well, you're not exactly the mutinous type. Married to duty, aren't you?"

Married. Interesting turn of phrase. It took a moment for her implication to sink in. And before he could say anything she cleared her throat and looked away.

"It's a compliment. I meant it as a compliment."

"Thank you, then."

"What happened next?"

"Well, Varric is alive and well, so you know I didn't kill him." He offered her a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I won't say it wasn't tempting."

To his relief, she laughed. It was a little stiff, and rang a little false, but it cleared the air nonetheless. "And the rebel leader?"

"Regrettably also alive and well. Probably with Hawke somewhere. Cassandra tried to find them, before the conclave. She wanted Hawke to lead the Inquisition. That's how I ended up here, actually. She recruited me in Kirkwall."

Now was when he should tell her about the lyrium. Bring it up casually. They were friends, weren't they? Friends or something like it. She should know about this thing that he was facing, this dogged monster that nagged at his every waking moment, that threatened his sanity. She should know how frightened he was of it, of himself, of the future.

She was still looking at him, as if sensing he had more to say. She'd freed a hand from the blanket now and was absently playing with her hair. It was almost dry, frizzing in parts. She looked like an old painting.

He couldn't bring himself to tell her.

She already thought him prudish, paranoid, did he really want to add weak and falling apart to that list?

The door flew open and the chance was lost.

Cullen leapt up, the chair skidding aside, his hand reaching for his weapon.

Oblivious, Cassandra bounded into the room. "I heard what happened, are you all right?"

Solana was on her feet, clutching the blanket even tighter than she had been, heart in her throat. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"The maleficar turned herself in," Cassandra said, without preamble.

"The what?" Cullen still had his hand on his weapon.

Oh shit.

"Turned herself in? For what? She dropped water on me. What did you accuse her of?"

Cullen cut in before Cassandra could say anything. "That girl was a blood mage? You knew?"

"Yes, but what happened earlier had nothing to do with blood magic. Let me speak to her."

Cullen stood in stunned silence while Solana pulled on her boots. The blanket falling aside was now the least of her worries, and she imagined Cullen's as well.

"You can't possibly go out like that," Cassandra admonished. "Surely Max has something more practical for you to wear?"

She moved to the dresser and started digging. Max, first name basis. That was interesting. Cassandra still hadn't stopped calling her Hero, despite her insisting multiple times that that wasn't even a good title, let alone a name.

"Here," Cassandra thrust some breeches and a riding jacket into Solana's arms.

Cullen was still standing silently in the centre of the room. Solana risked a glance at him. His face was thunder.

At her look, he turned and left.

Chapter Text

Solana ignored the strange looks as she marched with Cassandra to the Chantry, drowning in the Herald's spare clothes. She had no doubt that by morning there'd be some fantastical story doing the rounds explaining it.

There was no sign of Cullen.

Solana had thought it merciful that Cassandra had interned Celeste in the Chantry until she'd learned that's where the cells were.

"I can't believe you locked her up."

"She's a self-professed maleficar. It's a wonder we didn't have her killed."

"That's Inquisition policy, is it? Kill blood mages on sight?"

"She still breathes, does she not?"

"That remains to be seen."

The guards let her pass without argument, most likely because she was with the Seeker. The cells were dank, smelling of mildew and old stone. They were dark too, full of tall shadows that moved unpredictably in the flickering light from the wall-mounted sconces. What was a Chantry doing with a dungeon?

Solana didn't even want to know.

She found Celeste in the very last cell, under the watchful eye of no less than three guards. The woman was kneeling with her back to them, staring at her hands.

"Let me in, I want to speak to her."

The guards looked at one another, then to Cassandra.

"She can hear you from here," Cassandra said.

"I'm not interrogating her. Open the cell."

Alistair had commented more than once that Solana's willpower was possibly the sole reason they'd survived as long as they had. Cassandra tried to stare her down, and failed. She sighed deeply and nodded to one of the guards to open. Solana didn't give them a chance to change their minds, slipping in as soon as the opening was wide enough.

"Celeste." She kept her voice soft as she settled down opposite the woman.

The mage gave no indication that she'd heard.

"What is this? Who made you do this?"

"Made me…" her voice was thin and whispy. "No one made me." Finally she rose her eyes to meet Solana's. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"This is my fault. I should have taken the time to reassure you. Look, I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

"But you could have been. He was right, I can't control my power."

"He?" Solana thought she was talking about Cullen at first, but the way her eyes darted back to her hands hinted that she was talking about an entirely different Templar.

"He used to say it all the time. 'Your magic's too big for you, little mage. You think you're so powerful'. It's what… it's what drew him to me. He kept saying that I was dangerous, that I needed him… watching, always watching." Her hands closed into fists and she fell silent.

"The purpose of our exercise today was to learn how to channel power. You weren't the only one who struggled."

"It's not just today." Celeste pressed her eyes closed. "The last time I… it was that day, at the Tower. So much blood."

Solana tried to work out what she was saying. "Surely you've used magic since then?"

"No."

"But you were part of the rebellion?"

Celeste swallowed. "When you let me go, I went to the Chantry. Like I told you I would. But they turned me away."

A movement caught Solana's eye over Celeste's shoulder. She glanced up. Cullen was standing at the cell door beside Cassandra. His face was half hidden in shadow and he looked so ominous that he stopped her breath. She didn't know how much he'd heard, but from his expression she was certain he'd heard enough. Solana had freed one of the blood mages from the tower where he'd been tortured. Not only that, but she'd known the mage was now in the Inquisition and had said nothing.

Celeste must have seen her expression change, because she looked back too. The reaction was electric. She was instantly on her feet, scuttling as far away from Cullen as she could, which in this case meant pressing herself into one of the cell's corners.

"Please don't…" Her eyes were wide, her breathing rugged.

"The Commander's not going to hurt you," Solana assured her. She couldn't be blamed for thinking that, with the way he was looking at her – the way he was looking at them both.

"Surely you are aware of the consequences," Cassandra said. "You must have been aware when you turned yourself in."

"You're not going to kill her." It wasn't even a question.

"No, but there are other options that the Chantry provides for this kind of situation."

Solana stood. "You're not making her Tranquil either."

"If she poses a threat – "

" – she doesn't."

"So you say, but she herself begs to differ. She's openly admits to being unable to control her abilities."

"Because she's never been properly trained to."

"It is not our duty to train every maleficar and apostate that wanders into our camp!"

"So you'd rather castrate us?"

Cassandra slammed a hand against the bars, sending a clanging echo bouncing along the dark stone walls. "That's not what I'm saying."

Solana ran her hands through her hair. Cullen was still looking at her as if she was the precise thing he'd taken vows to eliminate from all of Thedas. It was difficult to think. Her chest felt cold and hollow.

"You weren't there today, Cassandra. You didn't see her. What she's capable of. She could be one of your best resources."

"If she doesn't kill us all first." Cullen's words were like ice. They were clipped and hard with barely-contained rage.

"Does she look like a murderer to you?"

Celeste had sunk against the wall and had wrapped her arms over her head, no doubt trying to hide from their bickering.

Cullen's eyes met Solana's. "People can surprise you."

He may as well have physically struck her for the impact of those words. She stared back at him, stunned. Everything she'd had to say in Celeste's defense was driven from her mind. Cullen turned away from her, away from her look.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me." Quiet words to Cassandra.

As he moved into the shadows, Cassandra called after him. "Commander. You aren't going to – "

"I… require some air."

Cassandra turned her attention back to Solana. "We cannot simply let her roam free having confessed what she has."

"Why not?"

"Surely you see? It would set a precedent."

"Of course, the last thing you want is blood mages coming and confessing to you."

"You're being purposefully obtuse."

"And you're being unreasonable."

Cassandra gave a cry of frustration and paced away from the cell door. Solana took a deep breath. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

She went up to the bars. "Leave me here." She dropped her voice so only Cassandra and the guards could hear. "I'll find out what's really going on. If she's involved in some kind of plot, or has done more than I know of, I promise I'll tell you."

"What do you mean? You can't be saying I should leave you here alone with her?" Cassandra shook her head vigorously. "No. It's too dangerous."

"I am the Hero of Ferelden."

She never thought she'd use those words, but let them believe her some kind of marvel if it meant that they'd let her speak to Celeste in private.

Cassandra eyed her carefully.

"What, you think I can stop the Blight but not a single blood mage? I'll be fine, Seeker."

"Fine." She sighed again. "I can give you an hour. If you need help, shout. Someone should hear you."

"Thank you."

Solana waited until they were completely alone before joining Celeste with her back against the wall. They sat in silence for a time. Solana was hoping that Celeste would start speaking again of her own accord, but no such like.

"Tell me about your son?" she asked eventually. Surely that would bring her out of herself, if anything?

Celeste drew a trembling breath. "I planted a tree for him."

Alright, maybe she wasn't so sane after all.

Celeste raised her head. "When I left Denerim to join the rebel mages, I mean. I planted an apple tree behind my sister's house. I said to him 'look after the tree while I'm gone, speak to it and take comfort in it as if it were me. When I return I expect to find it tall and strong, like you.'"

"That's a sweet idea."

"I didn't know if I would be back. I wanted him to have something to remember me by. But I have no possessions, no heirlooms or anything like that… please don't let them make me tranquil. I'd rather not return at all than… than he have his mother but not her… not her love."

Solana wondered what she'd expected would happen when she approached Cassandra. "Why did you turn yourself in?"

"I told you. I can't… every time I touch the Fade..."

Solana narrowed her eyes. She tried to keep her voice casual, but failed. "Do you mean demons, demons tempt you because of your power?"

Celeste shook her head. "No, it's not like that. I promise. I would never bargain with demons."

"I'm still not sure I understand." She shifted around to face the woman. "You haven't used magic since I found you in Kinloch Hold?"

"I… I've used a staff. I don't like to, but I have a few times."

"But you joined the mage rebellion?"

"Yes, I… ten years ago, I made a promise to you. I said I would do something good with my life if you spared it. But I hadn't. When the Chantry turned me away, I tried to get out of Ferelden with the other refugees, but they'd closed the borders. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to put my family in danger. That was the first place the Templars would look for me. But eventually I had no choice. I was heavily pregnant, living off scraps, and with the Blight… I went to my sister's house. She accepted me without question. I gave birth while the city burned. After the Blight, the Templars had more to worry about than finding me. I changed my hair, we told everyone that I was a cousin, a refugee from Lothering. I had been at the Circle so long that no one recognised my face. I was safe… but when I heard the mages were rebelling, that they were fighting to eliminate the Circles, I knew I had to join them. It wasn't so much a choice as a duty. I… after everything I went through, how could I not join fight to save others from the same fate? I heard the mages had their base in Redcliffe, so I traveled there and offered my services."

She rubbed her arms as if cold. "They were curious about my background and training. I told them the truth – that I was trained at the Ferelden Circle. I didn't expect that they'd treat me as some kind of hero. I'd fought against the Templars and lived. They assumed I had great ability, I never had to prove it. We battled in groups when battle was necessary, and I could always stay in the background with my staff. But mostly, I tried to help in other ways. I cooked, I sewed blankets I… I didn't have to use my magic. I didn't expect I would ever have to."

Well no wonder she was so petrified of her powers. The last time she'd used them, she'd killed a man and all of her friends had become abominations. Losing control at the lake must have taken her straight back there.

"He was wrong, you're not too small for your magic."

Celeste eyed her skeptically.

"Look at me, I'm not exactly a giant. You have a chance now to do the good you promised. You're going to fight for the Inquisition. You're going to heal the sky."

And maybe save the Grey Wardens, Solana added silently.

Cullen wasn't at the lake the next morning. Instead there was another Templar who introduced himself as Frederick.

Solana's chest ached even though she knew she should have expected no less. She'd betrayed him. At least that's how he'd see it.

There was nothing wrong with Frederick. He was attentive and polite. But she missed Cullen. She missed him far more than she had a right to.

Chapter Text

He was angry but he wasn't about to let her get herself killed.

Cullen watched from the shadows as Solana greeted the guards and gave them each one of the bread rolls from the basket she carried over her arm. The rest were for the malificar, he knew.

The War Council had been unable to agree on a course of action for the blood mage. The only thing they had been able to agree on, eventually, was that it could be the Herald's decision. She was to remain in the cells at the Chantry until he returned.

For the past few days, he'd seen Solana perform the same routine. After she finished with the mages at the lake, she'd come here and have the guards let her into the woman's cell. There she'd sit with her, sharing the food. Then they'd perform magic. The guards would eye them warily but Solana would lightly tease them if they looked too nervous. She was the Hero, she'd remind them. They were in no danger.

She did exercises with the malificar like she'd done with the other mages. She'd devised a series of games – making the bread float or similar nonsense - and used those to test her ability. At first the woman had been a trembling mess, but now she seemed far more relaxed. She even smiled a few times and when Solana returned her smile, Cullen's heart twisted with longing.

Footsteps rang on the stairs behind him and he tensed, shifting further into the darkened guard alcove and hoping the new arrival didn't draw attention to his presence.

"Commander?"

He cringed. Cassandra. Someone must have told her he was down here. She stood at the foot of the stairs. She didn't see him immediately and he briefly considered pretending he wasn't there. Especially when he heard Solana informing her that he wasn't.

Childish. That would be childish.

He sighed and stepped forward into the light. He intentionally didn't look at the mages, he could only imagine their horror that he'd been spying.

"Ah!" Cassandra seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort. "There you are. Ma- the Herald approaches Haven. He sent word that he's prepared to seal the Breach immediately, tonight if we can be ready."

"Can we be ready?" He asked Solana, still without looking at her.

"Yes. I believe the mages are prepared."

"I'll tell the men." He turned to move past Cassandra, back up the stairs, but she stepped into his path.

"We're meeting in the war room."

"Of course we are."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is something the matter, Commander?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache coming on. "No, nothing's the matter."

The way Cassandra's gaze lingered said that she didn't believe him. Perhaps she sensed how close he was to giving in to his cravings? There was going to be an army of untested mages in the ruins of the temple tonight. He owed it to everyone to be in the best possible shape, to prepare for the worst. Didn't that mean using lyrium?

"I should join you," Solana said. Something jolted in his chest.

"Of course, we welcome your input," Cassandra replied.

Well, this wouldn't be awkward at all. He heard the cell clang shut, the quiet goodbyes to the maleficar and the guards and then she was beside him. He still didn't look at her, even as the three of them moved upstairs. But he could feel her presence, it made his skin tingle like rampant magic. It made his heart thud and brought a bitter taste to his throat. He shouldn't be this affected.

Josephine was waiting for them at the door to the war room. She and Cassandra exchanged a few words before going inside. Cullen made to follow, but Solana caught his arm.

He was forced, finally, to look at her. Her brow was furrowed in concern, her beautiful eyes were focused on his face.

He flushed cold and then hot. His stomach clenched as if he was about to go into battle. He hadn't wanted confrontation. He'd been avoiding it for a week. But now she'd caught him watching, it was inevitable.

"Cullen…"

Oh Maker, did she have to say his name? Say it like that?

"Now isn't the time," he said stiffly.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been watching? Just today or…?

"Not just today, no."

"You don't trust her."

"Of course I don't –" He dropped his voice, aware that they were hardly alone. The hall was always full of people going about some or other business. "Of course, I don't trust her. Do you have any idea –"He closed his eyes. "You saw what they did to me. Why in all of Thedas would you think I would trust her?"

"She wasn't involved with what happened to you."

"How can you know that?"

"I asked her."

A bark of laughter escaped his lips. "Yes, of course, blood mages are known for their honesty."

"Do you really think I would have kept quiet about her if I thought she'd hurt you?"

She spoke softly but her words seemed to echo. Cullen found himself staring at her. Not ' hurt us', 'hurt you'. Him specifically. He was at once intensely aware of her hand, still on his arm.

Her gaze dropped. "Look, you don't have to like me, but I'd appreciate if we could at least work together. I understand you freezing me out. I know what this must look like to you, but you're not the only one who wants to keep everyone here safe."

"Sometimes it does feel like it."

Her eyes met his again. "What would you have done if I'd told you about her? Locked her up? Chased her away? Made her tranquil? Killed her?"

"No." He said quickly.

"No to which part?"

"The…" he swallowed. "The last part. That's not… that's not how I am, Solana. You should know that."

She blinked and her gaze softened. "I do know that," she said quietly. "But I also know how you feel about duty. And I know what you… Cullen, it haunts me, what they did in that Tower, how I found you… I can't imagine what it must be like."

He pulled away from her. She pitied him. He didn't want that. "You think my experiences made me unreasonable."

"Didn't they?"

He was drawing breath to respond, to say he wished he hadn't opened up to her, he hadn't confided to her about Kirkwall and how far he'd let things get before he'd taken action, but the main doors of the hall swung open and the Herald walked in, clad in his shining armour. His helmet was tucked under his arm, his hair was dishevelled, but he still looked like something out of legend. He grinned at them and clattered forward.

"Solana! I hear I have you to thank for readying the mages for the task ahead."

"You can thank me if you don't die."

Cullen stiffened at her words, but the Herald laughed and patted her shoulder. Then he took Cullen's hand and shook it. "Oh, I'm certain Cullen here will ensure I survive. Are we meeting now?" He moved into the room without preamble, and Cullen could hear him warmly greeting the others.

"We should…" he said to Solana.

She nodded. "After you, Commander."

Sounds of laughter and singing permeated the air and Cullen had to admit that it was pleasant.

He also had to admit that Solana's mages had been impressive. Not a single one had faltered. The change in the days since he'd last seen them was staggering.

She'd trained an army in less than a fortnight.

And she said she didn't deserve the moniker Hero of Ferelden.

He thought he should thank her, try clear the air after their argument earlier. But by the time he'd gathered up enough courage to try to find her, she'd disappeared. He expected she'd be with Leliana, but the spymaster was talking to Josephine down by the gates. Solana wasn't with the Herald, or Cassandra or with the mages. Had she gone back to her cottage? Another thought occurred to him and it filled him with dread. What if she'd left, feeling her duty done?

No, no she wouldn't have done that. She came here for help with the Wardens. She wouldn't simply leave.

Unless he'd driven her away?

He ran through the things he'd said to her. None of them seemed harsh enough in his memory to have that affect. But perhaps he'd come across as harsher than he'd intended?

"You're looking for The Hero?" Varric asked. Cullen jolted. The dwarf was holding a flagon in one hand and his cheeks were rosy. "I heard you asking the Seeker. I saw her go into the Chantry. You might have luck there."

The Chantry. Of course. "Thank you."

"Commander!"

He spun to find one of his men, bent double, heaving in air. "There's… there's a force approaching."

"I wasn't any help after all."

"Don't say that." Solana passed Celeste the bundle of food she'd taken from the festivities.

"It's true, though. I was supposed to help mend the sky."

"It's hardly your fault that they wouldn't let you go."

"Well, technically it is. I did turn myself in."

Solana sighed. "The Breach was only one of the things the Inquisition needs to fix. You'll get your chance."

"If they don't make me tranquil… I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you for the food and for everything else. It seems you keep saving me." She offered Solana a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. "I'm sure you want to get back upstairs."

They could hear vague whispers of song from where they sat. Solana shook her head. "I've never been one for crowds. Even before… well before the Blight." She meant before her self-imposed isolation. "It's difficult to know what to do with yourself. I'm never sure where to stand."

Celeste chuckled, taking a piece of roast ram from the food pack. "I usually choose somewhere at the edge. That way you can see everything but no one watches you." She glanced up. "They did it to us intentionally, you realise? They made us socially inept. They never wanted us to be able to function outside of the Tower. You were there from a young age too?"

"Yes." She'd been a few years ahead of Celeste. They'd lived on different floors, their paths had never crossed. She helped herself to a small slice of baked apple.

"Do you ever miss it?" Celeste asked.

An interesting question from someone who had fought so hard to leave. "I miss… I miss life being that easy. But I doubt I could go back."

Celeste seemed about to say something, but there was shouting from upstairs, an urgent distressed sound quite different from the merrymaking they'd heard before.

The guards, who'd been playing cards at a small table across from the cell, come to their feet, the one reaching for a weapon.

"I'll go find out what's happening," Solana said.

The main hall was a mess of frantic chaos. People were running around, shouting instructions, panicking. Solana managed to snag an Inquisition recruit by the sleeve.

"What's going on?"

He was red-faced with eyes wide. "There's an army," he spluttered. "Army attacking us."

"What army?"

But he tore away.

She pushed through the disarray to the large doors, which were hanging open. There she could hear the sounds of battle, and see the mountain before her flecked with the light of advancing soldiers. Whatever army was attacking, it was huge. The last time she'd seen anything like it had been at Ostagar and the memory chilled her to her core.

Haven couldn't survive that. There was no possibility.

She stood rooted in horror, until someone pushed her aside.

One of the trebuchets fired. Not at the army, but at the mountain. She watched in awe as an avalanche of snow buried the first advance.

Brilliant thinking.

Time. That's all they needed. Time to get everyone out.

That spurred her to action. She dashed forward, pulse racing. She needed to find Cassandra or Max or Josephine – or Cullen. See how she could help.

An all-too-familiar screech rent the night. Before she could accept what it was, a swath of flame cut in front of her. She leapt back, landing in the snow, staring up at the sky, at the thing. She knew it instantly.

An archdemon.

This was a Blight.

This was a blight and the Wardens were too distracted to do anything about it. She reached for her staff and traced the movement of the beast in the sky, how it circled back towards the army.

There was a reason she'd survived. There was a reason that she had lived while Alistair had perished. This was the reason.

She scrambled to her feet and made for the front gates, passing soldiers and mages fighting side-by-side, facing off against unfamiliar abominations. She was so blinded by her desperation to get to the creature that she didn't see Cullen until he grabbed her bodily.

"Where in the world do you think you're going?"

How was that even a question?

"I'm a Warden." He was pinning her arms to her sides. "I need to-"

"What you need to do is get to the Chantry with everyone else."

The archdemon screeched again and swooped around. Cullen flung her against the palisade as flame tore through the spot where they'd been standing. She cast a barrier, and the fire licked the edges, narrowly missing Cullen's back.

A few days before, she would have given anything to be pressed this close to him, but now all she wanted was to fulfil her destiny.

"I need to fight it."

He was breathing heavily, peering down at her. "No." He grabbed her arm and yanked her beside him as he marched to the Chantry. Everything was burning, smoke choked her lungs and made her eyes water. There was no use struggling against Cullen, his grip was iron.

He pushed her inside. "Frederick, watch her! She is not to leave."

The young Templar who'd been overseeing her mage lessons gave her an apologetic smile with a shrug, which she answered with a scowl. Cullen strode deeper into the room to where Leliana and Josephine were locked in urgent debate.

The doors flew open to another rush of people seeking shelter. The Grand Chancellor urged them in. Solana noticed he was clutching his side. As Max, Cassandra and Varric entered, the old man collapsed.

She started towards him, but suddenly there was someone with him. A strangely pale boy in an over-sized hat.

"He tried to stop a Templar. The Blade went deep. He's going to die," the boy informed Max.

She blinked. Perhaps he had been there before and she somehow hadn't noticed him? 

Cullen jogged up to Max. "Herald, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

"Archdemon," Solana corrected. All four of them looked at her. "That looked like an archdemon to me."

"I don't care what it looked like," Cullen retorted. "It's cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven."

She could see the fear in his eyes. His body was stiff but she knew him well enough to recognise that he was terrified. His forehead was damp with sweat, his fists kept clenching and unclenching. 

The boy gazed at him, face half hidden in shadow. "The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

"Elder one?" Solana prompted. Did he mean the archdemon? They were wakened elder gods.

But Max spoke over her. "If it will save these people, he can have me."

"It won't," the boy assured him. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters. But he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like..." Cullen sighed as if deciding it wasn't worth pursuing. "Herald. There are no tactics to make this survivable."

Wait what? That wasn't like him, to give up so easily. 

He was still speaking. "The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

And kill everyone... 

Max spoke before she could. "We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

Cullen met his gaze. "We're dying." He said it with such finality, he sounded so calm. "But we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

"Then I'm dying killing the archdemon." She took her staff in hand again for emphasis.

Cullen's eyes darted to her. "No," he snapped.

"You just acknowledged we're going to die here. Let me help."

He turned his full attention on her. "You honestly believe you can fight an archdemon, alone?"

He wasn't the only one staring. Half the people in the room were now looking at her.

"No," she admitted. "But I can kill it alone. With the archdemon gone you might stand a chance. If the Inquisition can but help me get close-"

"And what of the Red Templars? This Elder one?"

Her expression must have betrayed her because he  threw his hands in the air and advanced on her. "You don't even know who we're fighting."

"It doesn't matter. I've fought worse."

"Awfully certain of yourself aren't you?"

"Stop!" the pale boy was suddenly between them. "There is a way. Listen." He pointed to Chancellor Roderick..

The old man struggled to his feet, wavering unsteadily. "There is a path, you wouldn't know it, unless you've made the summer pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you."

Yes! This whole mountain had been covered in hidden tunnels when she'd last been here.

"What about it Cullen, will it work?" Max asked.

She saw a flicker of hope cross Cullen's features. He nodded. "Possibly. If he shows us the path." And then his expression was perfectly controlled again. "But what of your escape?"

Max was silent. Cullen's brow furrowed. There would be no escape for the Herald.

"Let me go with him," Solana insisted again.

Cullen closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "I can't let you do that."

"I know I'm a valuable resource, I know you don't want to lose that. But what makes me more precious than Max?"

"Hold on a minute," Max cut in. "The Elder One wants me, not you. The Inquisition needs a hero."

"No, the Inquisition needs to survive."

"We're wasting valuable time," Cullen said. "Solana, if you're so anxious to help, you can help with the evacuation. Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move."

Solana growled in frustration. Enough of this. The Inquisition soldiers were running across the hall, stuffing crates, chests and barrels with any resources they could find. Solana turned to join them as if she was following Cullen's orders, but when no one was looking she slipped down to the jail. One of the guards was still keeping watch over Celeste.

"Commander says to free her, we're evacuating."

He didn't even question her. Celeste stood as her cage clanged open. "Evacuating? What's going on?"

"I don't know. It looks like another Blight."

"Another-"

"There's an archdemon."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"You wanted to help, to make a difference. Now's your chance. I'm going to fight that thing. I'm going to need your help."

Chapter Text

"Where's Solana? Did she go ahead?" Cullen was ushering the last of the Inquisition into the tunnel Chancellor Roderick had indicated.

"I don't know, sir," the young recruit said.

Cullen bade him pass. He spotted Frederick, carrying a large trunk on his shoulders. "Where's the Hero?"

He blanched. "I think she's gone ahead, sir."

"You think?"

"Sorry sir, I'm not sure."

"I thought I told you to watch her!"

A man moved passed them, carrying a barrel under each arm. Cullen recognised him as one of the burly guards who'd been keeping an eye on the malificar.

"You! Where's your prisoner?"

He stared at Cullen as if he'd just materialised through the Fade. "We, er, let her go, Ser. Like you said."

"I gave no such order."

"The Hero said you did, Ser."

Cullen pushed passed Frederick, cursing like he was sure his men had never heard him curse before. "Tell Leliana to send the signal as soon as you reach the treeline. Don't wait for me."

How had she gotten out? They had barricaded themselves inside.

Except she was a mage. For all he knew she'd slipped out when the Herald had gone, using some kind of spell to confound their senses. He checked the Chantry anyway, calling her name madly. It bounced off the walls, echoing in the eerie old building. Nothing. She'd gone. And she'd taken the blood mage with her.

He crashed through the main doors. He could see the lights of battle out front, the final fight to secure the last trebuchet. She must be there, with the Herald. His stomach turned to liquid as he saw the dragon. It dove to land at the point of conflict. Cullen's knees were weak, his legs felt numb but he drove himself forward, cutting aside every Red Templar that got in his way. If there was a chance, even the smallest chance that he could save her…

The town was over-run, ash fell from the sky like snow.

He heard a scream to his right. And he knew he shouldn't stop. He knew he couldn't possibly save everyone. Solana was what mattered. She needed him. She was going to go up against a dragon with no help but that blood mage.

He turned, feet skidding on the icy ground. He couldn't simply ignore a cry for help. Not when he was in a position to do something.

He followed the sound around a corner and stopped so suddenly his feet almost slid out from under him.

There she was. Solana. Trying to face down three of the Red Templars.

The maleficar was lying prone on the ground behind her, pinned by a burning beam. Solana's spells kept failing and her movements were desperate.

It took one moment to take in the scene, and then Cullen was pushing in front of her, putting himself between her and the Templars.

He raised his sword just in time to block a blow that likely would have cleaved her. He parried, stabbing forward to get the twisted monstrosity in the ribs. It cried an inhuman sound, doubling over.

Cullen dodged a blow coming from the other side, spinning, skidding again, almost falling. Metal clanged against metal as his sword met the third Templar's. He was hopelessly outnumbered but it didn't matter. They'd have to cut him to pieces before he let them get to her. A strike from the misshapen horror narrowly missed him, but he rallied, swinging his weapon with every bit of strength he had in him, cutting the thing across the neck. It stumbled backwards and a swift kick to the chest finished the job.

Fire exploded around him and for a horrible second he thought it the dragon. But no, now the red lyrium monster was downed, they could no longer suppress Solana's magic.

Cullen heaved in air as the remaining Templars screamed in agony. He finished the one with a blow to the head. Solana took care of the other with a bolt of lighting.

As it crumpled, he turned on her, ready to loose his anger upon her. But she was hurrying to her friend, dropping to her knees beside her.

"I can't get it…" the maleficar said.

Solana put her hands out, and he knew she was trying to lift the beam with magic, as she had lifted the water. To no avail. "We'll try together. On three."

He could see the strain in her. There wasn't time. He strode forward and, before he could think better of it, grabbed hold of the beam, lending his strength to their spells. He cried out as the pain engulfed his hands, but the beam shifted. He heaved and it lifted just enough for her to wriggle herself free.

"Cullen!" Solana was immediately at his side, grabbing at his hands. They were in such blinding pain that he couldn't even feel her touch.

"There's no time." He snatched his hands away from her.

"I have to –" she turned towards where the dragon had landed.

As she did, the trebuchet launched its load into the air. It flew towards the mountain. Cullen swore and grabbed Solana, sending a fresh shock of pain lancing up his arm.

"We need to run."

The maleficar was struggling to her feet, but she'd seen the trebuchet fire. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale. A mighty crack rent the air. The siege engine had its desired effect.

Solana took Celeste's arm and the three of them ran blindly. It was impossible to outrun an avalanche, but they threw themselves forward. They need only get to the Chantry. If they could even make it down one level they might survive.

They hadn't even made it to the Chantry steps when the snow hit, ploughing through the palisade, smothering the buildings. Cullen saw the wave heading towards them and could do absolutely nothing to stop it before everything went dark.

It was dark, but he was still standing, surrounded by the sound of his own ragged breathing.

He hadn't been hit by snow.

What the…

He looked around, but could see nothing. Something shifted beside him.

"I can't… I can't hold it much longer." The maleficar.

"It's all right." Solana's voice nearby. "We need to dig ourselves out. Cullen, dig upwards."

He obeyed her, reaching up to scratch at the snow with his burning hands. The pain of contact was soon numbed by the cold. Solana was standing beside him, stabbing at the snowy ceiling with her staff.

"Solana…" Celeste squeaked.

"Just hold it a little longer." Solana pressed against him. "Can you lift me?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist. If he was about to die, there were worse ways to go. She leveraged herself up on his shoulders. There was a flash of light, and then another. He realised what she was trying to do. She was trying to melt the snow with her staff. He lifted her higher and she gave a whoop of victory as the final layer of snow melted away. Then, without warning, she was climbing onto his shoulders, scrambling out of their hole.

"Lift your hands, both of you."

Again, Cullen did as instructed. The maleficar – Celeste – gasped and the snow rushed in.

There was a moment of suffocating cold. The snow was everywhere, crushing his lungs, covering his face. And then Solana had his hand. She clasped him by the wrist, and pulled. He began struggling against the snow, wriggling, then climbing. His face broke free, then his shoulders, As soon as both of his arms were out of the snow, Solana turned from him.

"Help me."

She was digging, looking for the mage. Cullen fought himself free of the ice and then joined her. There. First one hand, then the other. Together they pulled and Celeste emerged, gasping and choking and then laughing. She fell back into the snow, staring at the sky as if the most delightful event had just occurred and she hadn't very nearly been burned and then buried alive.

"So, tell me again how your magic's too big for you," Solana said. He saw she was also smiling.

Now they were relatively safe, Cullen looked around him. There was almost nothing to mark that Haven had once been here. Occasionally a roof peaked out of the snow, but otherwise everything was blanketed in white.

"It would seem I owe you my life," Cullen admitted.

"What were you even doing out here?" Solana asked, turning her attention to him. Her hair was damp, her cheeks were flushed. He knew he should be angry, but he was so relieved she was alive, he couldn't summon the rage he'd felt earlier.

"I came looking for you," he said truthfully.

Solana looked away. "I didn't think you'd notice I was gone."

"Well, I did."

Of course he did. He was always aware of her.

The Chantry rose above them. Due to its superior altitude, it hadn't been buried like the other buildings. They'd probably need to go in a window rather than the door, but otherwise the way ahead seemed clear.

 "I owe you an apology," Solana said.

They'd finally reached the Inquisition camp and she had convinced Cullen to sit by the fire while she examined his hands. The leather from his gloves had partly fused to them. This was a nasty injury. If she'd been an accomplished healer like Wynne, she might have been able to use magic to ease his pain. As it was, she was pressing snow into his palms, trying to numb them before she separated leather from flesh.

"Yes you do," he agreed. But when she glanced up at him, he was giving her that half smile that made her stomach flip.

She returned her attention to his hands. "I'm not… accustomed to following orders."

"No, I imagine you aren't."

"I wasn't being rational."

"No, you weren't."

"You're not making this easy."

He chuckled. "For what it's worth, I acknowledge I was not being entirely rational either. If I had been thinking strategically, it would have made sense for you to go along with the Herald."

The Herald had not made it back to the camp, but no one had expected him to. Perhaps if she'd been with him, things would have been different? She'd liked Max. She hadn't known him very well, but he'd seemed decent.

"I assumed you were always thinking strategically."

"Most of the time."

"So what was different this time?" She expected him to say something about the heat of the moment, about imminent death. When he didn't answer immediately she looked up to find him staring at her. Warm brown eyes, their focus absolute.

"I…" his voice was low, so low she could hardly hear it. "I didn't want to lose you again."

Her heart thudded to a stop, then kicked back into action with renewed fervour.

"Lose me?"

"I…" he looked away from her and he seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. "I meant that in the sense that… I consider you a friend."

A friend.

Oh, Maker he couldn't breathe; caught between the pain in his hands and the intensity of her look. Why couldn't he get the words out? It should be obvious that he cared for her. He'd tipped his hand when he'd run blindly into the trajectory of an avalanche on the off chance he could save her.

But her surprise when he'd said he was frightened of losing her had stopped his tongue once again. She didn't want his confessions. She didn't want his feelings. She was still in love with someone else, even if he was ten years dead. Leliana had said as much, and didn't female friends share everything? Maybe she had said something to Leliana, asked the spymaster to subtly dissuade him.

Friends was safer. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was something.

"You consider me a friend?" she asked, eyes still exploring his face. "Even after…"

She looked across the fire to where Celeste was bundled up in a blanket and talking to some of the other mages.

He closed his eyes it was easier to speak when he couldn't see her face. "I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me." He drew a breath. "But I understand why you did not."

I don't like it, he added silently. But I do understand.

He'd wanted to kill Celeste once. Back at the Circle, he would have killed her if he'd had the chance. He would always be that man to Solana, at least on some level.

"I don't like thinking about those days. I don't like thinking about who I was, what I became," he said.

Something soft and cold brushed his cheek. His eyes flew open. Her hand. She'd stroked his cheek. His brain froze. He couldn't think. A thousand different sensations came together like the clash of symbols in his mind. His heart slamming against his chest, his stomach lurching, his breath catching. Everything was hyper real and focused as if she'd stabbed him rather than caressed him.

She withdrew the hand, a look of horror on her face. She thought she'd made a mistake. She'd taken his stunned silence for disapproval. No, no that's not what he'd meant. He jerked forward, his limbs refusing to move in any natural way, and he grabbed the offending hand, halting its withdrawal.

He'd forgotten about the burns. Excruciating pain shot up his arm. Blinding white agony. He cried out, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Sorry, sorry I'm sorry." She took his hands and pressed snow into them again. "That was foolish, I shouldn't have."

"No." The ice burn of the snow was almost as bad as grabbing her hand had been. He wanted to tell her not to apologise but he couldn't unclench his teeth long enough to speak.

"This is bad, Cullen. I'm going to get Fiona. She'll be better able to help."

No! He wanted to stop her. He wanted her to explain what that touch had meant. Or, even better, continue. He didn't know whether he was deserving of such comfort, but he wanted it. Oh, he wanted it. But Solana slipped away, hurrying across the camp to where the Grand Enchanter was tending to the other wounded.

Cullen took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He gazed out at the icy landscape beyond their meager shelter. They'd nestled in a ravine at the foot of one of the peaks, and back the way they'd come, he could make out the dark silhouettes of the trees against the grey sky.

He could explain to her later. When she returned, when the pain had ebbed further. When…

Something moved in the darkness at the edge of the ravine. He got to his feet automatically, squinting to try work out what it could be. A wolf? Their cry had been echoing off the stone, but no wolf would dare approach their camp alone. What then?

And then he realised. He stumbled forward.

"There! It's him!" The Herald.

By the Maker, the Herald had made it out alive.

Cassandra sprung from her place by the fire and joined him, running towards the faltering figure of Maxwell Trevelyan.

Chapter Text

He was chained in the middle of a burning circle, Uldred looming before him and Solana couldn't reach him. Every time she tried, the fire blocked her path.

"Let's see how strong you Templars really are. In your hubris, you thought you could suppress us. Us!"

A crack of a whip, made of magic and glass. It lashed across his back and he cried out, jerking as pain rent his body.

There had to be a way through! Solana remembered this trick. She'd faced it before. She'd almost perished trying to find a way to cross a similar fiery threshold. Why couldn't she recall what the solution had been?

Again the whip landed and again Cullen screamed, a sickening wretched sound. A man so strong, reduced to tears, pleading for mercy.

There was nothing for it. She needed to help him. She closed her eyes and pushed through the fire. It scorched her skin, seared across her nerve endings. She ceased existing. Her whole being was pain and his screaming and the smell of burning flesh.

She jerked awake with his name on her lips.

Her chest heaved, her back was damp with cold sweat.

Solana was no stranger to nightmares. They'd plagued her since the day she'd taken the Joining, and in recent weeks they had taken on an intensity that had led her to avoiding sleep altogether whenever she could. But this was new. Usually she'd see the archdemon in her dreams, ordering forth its army. She'd see Alistair killing it. Over and over again she'd see him die. Sometimes these scenes would be layered over with other horrors: the madness she'd seen in the Deep Roads, the plight of the werewolves and, yes, sometimes the Circle. But when she dreamed of the Circle, she dreamed abominations, or being trapped in the sloth demon's maze. She hadn't dreamed about Cullen before.

Had it been a dream? Or had she seen something in the Fade that had really occurred?

She could easily believe it. Both Wardens and mages were prone to visions and it certainly fit with what she knew of what had transpired there.

Her heart was still vibrating in her chest.

She shouldn't have slept. But when the adrenaline of everything that had happened the night before had worn off, she'd been too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

Cullen had almost died for her. He'd severely injured himself to help a blood mage. And he'd said he considered her a friend. Everything else – the Herald's return, the way the entire Inquisition had come together to sing a song of hope – paled when compared with those events. He cared about her. Maybe not in the way she would have liked.

Would have liked…

Her stomach flipped. She repeated his name, feeling it against her tongue.

Whatever else the dream may have meant, it had revealed one thing. She would walk through fire for him. An unsettling admission, but one no less true.

It had been a very long time since she'd wanted anyone.

But she wanted him.

And not just as a friend.

But the way he'd looked at her when she'd touched his cheek threw ice water on that desire. She sank back down onto her bed roll. She was a mage. A mage and a Warden, who was slowly being driven mad by a hunger he knew nothing of.

Trevelyan had gone to scout ahead, and the rest of them were packing up the camp. Cullen had been locked in argument with Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra for what felt like half the morning discussing their next move. It just kept going around in circles. His men had signed up to close the hole in the sky. They'd signed up when there'd been a base of operations, guaranteed warm meals, relative safety. Within one night, all that had changed. He couldn't ask them to keep fighting now. He wanted to tell them to return home to their families. But then what? Josephine was right in one respect. The Inquisition was nothing without them. And now they had some idea what they were up against, he knew the Inquisition was more important than ever.

He had a leaden feeling in his stomach. The kind that had preceded each Harrowing that he'd been tasked to watch over. He knew the danger. He knew his duty. Even if he didn't like it. His duty in this case was to continue to ask that they stay, ask that they give more than they ever initially agreed to, ask that they trust it was for a good cause, even if he wasn't sure of that himself.

"Cullen?"

Her soft voice startled him out of his thoughts. Solana was standing behind him, her rosy cheeks and red hair a stark contrast to the snow that covered everything else.

"Did I startle you?"

He cleared his throat. "No. Yes. I was lost in thought, sorry. What can I do for you?"

She came a little closer. "How are your hands?"

Much as he hated to admit it, the rebel mage leader had done wonders. He could understand how she'd earned her title. He'd never seen healing magic quite as powerful. The skin was still a little raw, but he hardly felt any pain.

"They're good, thank you."

Fiona had found him once the excitement about the Herald's survival had abated. She'd insisted that his injury was worth seeing to, even though she had so many more serious patients.

"I hear you're quite the hero," she'd said in her thick Orlesian accent with a little smile he had no idea how to interpret.

"You hear incorrectly." If anyone was a hero, it was the Herald. It was Cullen's duty to keep the people of the Inquisition safe and in that he had failed. They were out in the middle of nowhere, their base of operations destroyed. He knew that the others must blame him. If he'd been better prepared…

"Nonsense," Fiona had said. "I spoke with Celeste when I healed her. She told me how you got this injury. Saving a malificar, who would have thought?"

He didn't know what she would have expected. Only a monster would have left the woman under that beam when able to help.

Now Solana smiled at him, eyes darting to the side. "I'm glad."

He'd looked for her the night before, but had been unable to find her. He hadn't had an opportunity to explain his reaction to her touch.

"Solana…" His heart was already pounding and his mouth went instantly dry. Where did he even start?

"No, wait, I… I have something to say. I wanted to apologise."

"You already apologised."

"No, not for… about last night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't –"

"I just… when you spoke about the Circle, you looked so… I do want to be your friend, Cullen. I'm not very good with people." She gave him a sardonic smile. "It's something they leave out of the stories, I'm sure."

"You seem fine to me."

"That's kind but… sometimes I don't always do the appropriate thing. I wouldn't want that to come between us."

"Between us?"

"As friends."

As friends. Of course.

"I know how important propriety is to you. You said last night that you considered me a friend. I hope that hasn't changed?"

"No," he said quickly.

She sighed, so deeply that her shoulders moved. "Good."

This conversation was a bit like that rope game that his sisters liked to play. Finding the right point to jump in without tripping was nearly impossible. But now the ropes had suddenly stopped swinging and he didn't know what to say.

Say you like her. Say you didn't find her caress inappropriate. Say you want more.

He swallowed, unable to summon his voice.

Say something, anything. "I enjoy being your friend."

Maker's balls.

He cleared his throat again. "It's, um. It's nice talking."

A fade rift would be really useful right now. Or an archdemon. Anything that could swallow him and save him from his own awkwardness. "The weather looks good today. For travel, I mean. We're heading North, I believe."

Sweet Andraste.

She smiled mildly and nodded.

"I should… I should go pack. We'll be travelling soon."

"Alright," she said.

He turned from her and trudged away through the snow, feeling himself flushing. What in Thedas was wrong with him?

When the trees started to grow sparse, Cullen ordered that the Inquisition stop for a while to collect firewood for the nights ahead.

He told his men to disperse and put their sword arms to work chopping logs and branches into a manageable, transportable, size. They'd managed to take some tools from Haven's stores in the evacuation, and he found himself an axe and headed off to make himself useful.

Varric surprised him by volunteering to assist. They found a wooded spot and worked together for a time – Varric gathering branches and Cullen chopping – before Varric sighed and dropped the latest pile at Cullen's feet.

"You need to tell her."

"What?" The axe slammed down skew, the piece he'd been cutting went flying off into the snow. Elegant response.

Varric rolled his eyes. "You've been making moony eyes at her this whole journey. You have to tell her how you feel, she's not going to receive the message by telepathy. I mean she's an impressive mage, but I don't think mind reading's in her box of tricks."

"I have not…" he stopped, realising it was useless denying it. The dwarf was probably right. "I can't."

"Why?"

Cullen stooped to pick up the errant piece of wood. Because I'm useless at this. "Because I told her I wanted to be friends."

"You did what? Why would you do that?"

"I… I panicked."

Varric shook his head.

"You don't have to say it. I know I'm hopeless."

"No, not hopeless. An idiot maybe." He hiked up his trousers and sat down on a stump. "What exactly did you say?"

Cullen told him, word for word as much as he could remember. The dwarf frowned thoughtfully. "Well I'm not going to lie, you've definitely dug yourself into a hole. But there's still time to back out of it."

"I'm all ears."

"You have to tell her."

"I tried that."

"Try harder."

Cullen groaned. "What do I even say?"

"Tell her that you do want to be friends, but you wouldn't be in opposition to a little extra. For instance, if she wished to touch your cheek…"

The very idea of being so direct made Cullen's insides seize up.

"I can't. What if she – she knows how I used to feel about her. Surely if she had any interest in pursuing something more, she would have said? She wouldn't be so adamant about us being friends."

"Or she's adamant about you being friends so she can get closer to you."

He closed his eyes. "What about Alistair?"

"The dead guy?"

"She pledged herself to him, I'm sure of it."

"Commander, if she hasn't been with anyone in over a decade, then your chances are probably even better than you think."

It was freezing cold, but Cullen was starting to feel overheated. He scratched at his neck. He shouldn't be talking about this at all. Why was he discussing it with Varric of all people? Was he really that desperate?

Yes. Yes, he was.

Varric put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Alright, how about this? You catch her alone by the fire. She's had a meal, she's relaxed. You're all rugged from a day of travel. You seem less pallid in the firelight."

"Less what?"

"Never mind that, the fire sets the mood. Go with me on this one. You take her hands in yours and tell her the truth about how you feel."

Cullen met Varric's gaze. He waited for more. There wasn't any more. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"The truth?"

"Yes."

"And if she's horrified by it? If she won't come near me again?"

"That's not going to happen."

"You don't know that." Cullen dropped the axe and ran his fingers through his hair. "How will I even get her alone by the fire?"

"Wait until everyone else has gone to sleep."

"What if she goes to sleep earlier?"

"She doesn't." Varric offered a thin smile. "Trust me, Curly. Your Warden has far too much on her mind. She doesn't sleep until she absolutely needs to."

His heart ached at the thought of her sitting up, late into the night, staring into the flames. Perhaps if he did this, if he could get the words out, he might be in a position to offer her some comfort.

"Okay, dwarf. I'll give it a try."

"That's what I like to hear." He rose to his feet and swaggered away, presumably to gather more wood.

"Wait!"

Varric glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"This isn't some trick. Revenge for Kirkwall?"

Varric chuckled and shook his head. "Curly, if I wanted revenge for Kirkwall, you're pretty close to the bottom of my list. Well… maybe somewhere closer to the middle. But you'd see it coming. Although, now that you mention it, love can be exceptionally painful. I might not be doing you any favours."

A shadow seemed to come over his features. There was a story there, but Cullen knew better than to ask.

 The fire roared brightly. The hunters had found ram and everyone had eaten well. Now they gathered in the small warm circle of light, swapping tales.

Solana was telling one now, and Cullen was trying to listen but struggling to focus. It was late already. There were too many people still here. Couldn't they just stop enjoying themselves and go to their tents?

"And so we just walked right out of the keep," she concluded.

Those gathered around roared with laughter. Solana smiled. Maker, her smile was beautiful.

"That's impossible," Cassandra jumped in, glancing at Cullen as if to make sure she wasn't alone in thinking this. "You're saying that Teyrn Loghain, the famous strategist and one of the greatest military minds of his generation, didn't even have some kind of passcode in place?"

"Oh, he did," Solana said serenely. "But one of our young allies from the armoury had written it down so as not to forget it."

"You didn't… kill him for it?" Trevelyan asked.

"Oh no. He provided the password and the Knight Commander let us leave on our first patrol."

More laughter.

"This is why they call you the Hero of Ferelden." Trevelyan was shaking his head. "No one else could wake up naked in a cell inside an enemy fortress and simply walk out."

"You probably could." She responded and Cullen felt like the bottom had fallen out of the world. Everyone else was still exchanging banter, engaging in much-needed mirth. All he could see was the way she smiled at him.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't be here.

He stood abruptly. "I – I should get to bed. We have a long journey tomorrow."

"Are you feeling alright, Commander?" Cassandra questioned.

"Yes, just a headache." Let her think his withdrawal was driving him to sleep. That would be less humiliating than the truth.

Chapter Text

Cullen had just passed the first line of tents when Varric stepped into his path.  

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"It's not going to work."  

The dwarf looked past Cullen, to the fire, "Why?"  

He sighed. It was bad enough he'd failed, did he really have to explain? "There are too many people."

"So... take her aside from all the people. Come on, Commander. You've fought psychopathic blood mages and demon hordes and this is what scares you?"

He wasn't sure which was truly worse. In battle he knew what to do. There was a list of techniques and tactics at his disposal, and when it came to a fight, muscle memory and instinct took over. He had refined his skill over years. That's not to say he'd never been with a woman. He had been with women. But the stakes had never been this high. What if she was so horrified that she refused to speak to him again? He couldn't bear that. Even if it drove a wedge between them, any wedge. Friendship was fine, it was better than nothing. 

The dwarf took his arm and turned him around. "Take a look, Curly."

Solana was sitting beside the Herald. She was leaning close, laughing at something he'd said. Cullen felt ice rush through him.  

"I've written enough romances to see where that is heading," Varric said.  

The glow of the fire made Trevelyan look even more attractive than usual. He was speaking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly. Solana's eyes were glowing, she was glowing.

Cullen jerked forward, not even sure what he was doing. His limbs felt alien. Images flashed in his mind of the two of them, what could happen if they were left alone together like that all night. It would be too late. It was now or...

She looked up at him and he was still surprised to find himself standing beside her.

He swallowed, cleared his throat. "May I have a word with you?" 

Her brow creased. He'd interrupted Trevelyan mid-sentence. Sweet Andraste, what am I doing...

"Of course." She stood, draping her cloak across her shoulders. Her hair caught the light and it looked like enchanted flame.

Cullen was only vaguely aware of Varric slipping in next to the perplexed Trevelyan and starting his own tale as they moved away, towards a patch of trees. His palms were sweating. He opened and closed his fists, not sure what to do with his hands. Eventually, he settled them on his sword hilt. Solana walked beside him in silence.

It was a clear night. The moon shone through the trees, dappling the snow, and every now and then stars peeked out between branches. He could still hear the chorus of the wolves, but they were far away and no threat.

What did he say? He had to say something. The quiet was stretching between them, stretching to breaking point. 

"Is everything alright?" she asked.  

He turned to her so quickly that she startled. "What do you think of the Herald?"

"Max? I'm glad he survived. He seems brave, and able, and kind. The nobles and the common folk both seem to like him, which is rare. Why?"

Every word was like a blow. Why hadn't he seen this earlier? Why hadn't he acted earlier? He was already too late. While he'd been arguing with himself about his feelings, Trevelyan had been fighting archdemons, surviving the impossible, saving them all… even now they were stuck in the mountains, he'd been scouting ahead to ensure their survival while Cullen had been… chopping wood.

Solana touched his arm and it sent heat rushing up it, straight to his head. "Why, has he… has he done something I should know about?" 

"No," Cullen said. He couldn't say more. He felt lightheaded. Curse that dwarf for making him do this.

"Then you suspect something?"

"No." Get a hold on yourself. "No, I just wanted to find out how you… you feel about him."

She stared at him. There was just enough light to see her expression. She frowned, a thin line appearing between her eyebrows. No, no, no he'd said the wrong thing again. She was offended. 

"Who put you up to this?" she asked. "Is Leliana trying to play matchmaker?"

"No." Maker forbid.

"Her eyes grew a little wider with apparent realisation and he couldn't breathe.

"Did he send you to ask me?"

"No."

"Who put you up to this, who are you asking for?"

There was no air, it felt like the world was spinning. She was suspicious, upset and he couldn't think.

"Me!" He burst out. The word hung in the cold air between them. "I'm asking for me," he said. His throat was so constricted he wasn't even sure if she heard.  
 
She took a step closer and he didn't know what more to say.

Then she stood on her toes and kissed him.

Tentative, soft, warm. And then over.

He opened his eyes and he must have looked as shocked as he felt because she frowned again. "I misread the… I'm sorr-"

He cut off her words with a kiss of his own, sliding his hand beneath her flaming hair and bringing his lips to hers. A proper, deep, kiss this time. And she returned it. Sweet Andraste, she returned it. He was flying, tingling, burning, his desire for her was the only thing that truly existed on that icy mountain. His desire and her hands tangling through his hair and the feel of her lips and his heart pounding against his chest. And her, the smell of her skin. Always like roses, even after all this time, even in the midst of such a long journey. He pulled away only when he was out of breath and he found her smiling. An answering smile tugged at his cheeks of its own volition.

"I apologise. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

She laughed breathlessly. He backed her against a tree trunk and returned his attention to her mouth, unable to resist her lips now he could finally taste them. And oh, how sweet she tasted. Even better than he'd imagined.

She moved her mouth from his to kiss along his jaw, up towards his ear.

"Max and Cassandra are involved," she whispered.

He pulled away to look at her. She was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but she was failing. The corners of her lips were twitching.

"Since when?" he asked.

"A while now. You didn't think it strange how she knew her way around his quarters? She knew just where to find his breeches." She grinned. "Cullen, they're sharing a tent."

"Varric knows?"

"Varric keeps threatening to put it into one of his books."

He wasn't sure whether to be amused or angry. The dwarf had played him. He'd simply insinuated… and Cullen had been utterly convinced. "I'm going to have to have a word with him."

"Oh really?" she was leaning back against the tree. She hooked her arms around his neck again and, as she brought his lips back to hers, he thought maybe he could forgive Varric. This time.

They spent a long while in silence, kissing and touching. He had gone too many years without touching her, now he never wanted to stop. Her lips moved to his ear again.

"Would you like to join me in my tent?" she breathed.  

"Maker, yes."

Alistair had been all hands and enthusiasm. He'd needed gentle guidance and his attempts had been hit and miss, but Cullen approached lovemaking with military precision. He knew exactly which places to assault with his lips, his fingers. He left Solana gasping, wanting, needing and she had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself crying out and alerting the whole camp to his efforts.  

Still, he managed to coax sounds from her that she couldn't recall ever making before. Primal sounds that matched the rataplan of her heart. He silenced her with kisses and held her close to his chest as if she was the most precious treasure, more valuable than the weapon of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, more sacred than Andraste's Ashes.

"Why did we never do this before?" she asked him as her breath came back to her. Their limbs were still tangled together, their faces inches apart in the small space where she usually slept.  

He smiled in the dim moonlight and her stomach tugged with fresh desire. "If I'd known you'd be amenable to the idea..." He trailed off, hand reaching up to stroke her hair from her cheek. When he spoke again his voice was low and soft. "You know how long I've wanted this."

"So that thing about wanting to be my friend..."

He chuckled, ducking his chin. "I panicked. I... I'm not very good at this."

"I don't know, you seem quite adept to me."

His eyes rose to meet hers again. "Honestly, I am glad to be your friend. I like being close to you. Not just... like this. Back at the Circle, you were this..." He swallowed, and his brow furrowed.

"This?" she propped her head up on her arm.  

She could see he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. "I watched you - I mean, we watched all of you. I never meant for it to be... I mean there was never anything inappropriate."

"You never stole a peek at me changing robes?"  

He looked horrified. "No!"

"I was joking."

He took a deep breath, rolling onto his back. "We lived so close together. I saw the way you handled yourself, the way you treated everyone with respect and kindness. Even my - associates - who were less than civil." He glanced at her. "The day of your Harrowing was the most terrifying day of my life."

"Mine too. Well... up to that point."

"But I could never be close to you. Even as friends. I knew it was wrong for me to feel the way I did. And if anyone found out, you could be in danger and I never would have forgiven myself for that."

"I hate to break it to you, but everyone knew."

"What?" His head snapped to look at her and she was sure he'd gone a shade paler. 

She tried not to show her amusement. She touched his chest, tracing the line of a scar that stretched from his collar bone to his heart. "I was teased mercilessly."

"I'm so sorry." He seemed genuinely contrite. "I never would have wanted -"

She placed a finger on his lips. "I was flattered."

That smile again. The jagged scar didn't detract from it, only emphasized the curve of his mouth, the dimples that few ever got to see. And now she was able to touch it, touch him.  

"I wanted you too," she said. A confession she'd never imagined herself making. She had thought many times of asking him to meet her somewhere private, risking everything. But she'd been too much of a coward. Always the good girl, following the Grand Enchanter's commands to the letter. Even when they had meant betraying her friends.  

Cullen was staring at her, unmoving, and he seemed to be holding his breath. Her revelation had affected him more than she'd expected. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything.

"I've upset you."

"No... quite the opposite." The corner of his mouth twitched. "All these years I've felt like some kind of degenerate, infatuated with someone who could never possibly return my feelings."

She moved in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Hmm?" His arms encircled her. She felt safe and warm and sleepy.  

"What might have happened had I stayed?"

"I'd rather not think of that." It took her a moment to realise he was referring to Uldred's plot.

"You know I'd never perform blood magic, right? Never."

"I know."

"It isn't like you said back then. Back when..." back when she'd found him after suffering those days of torture. She couldn't say it. The memory of her nightmare was fresh in her mind. "Not all of us give in to temptation."

"Solana..." he caressed her hair, "Let's not speak of this now. I didn't mean you would have... I meant you may have been... I'd rather face these wasted years and have you here than imagine you trapped in that tower, imagine that any of those screams I heard could have been yours."

Solana woke to a cold, dark tent. The place where Cullen had been was empty and there was no residual heat on the blanket.

She rubbed away the last traces of the nightmare from her eyes. Something about demons and blood. The usual fare.

The cold had woken her. Usually she slept wrapped in layers, not naked. She pulled the blanket around her. It smelled like him.

Cullen… 

Unbidden memories from the hours before came to her. The way he'd caressed her skin, the way he'd felt when they'd joined.

Oh, she was far gone. There was no coming back from this.

But could he ever truly love a mage? It was one thing to say he wanted to be close to her. But how close was close?

That he was gone said something. She shouldn't have mentioned blood magic.

There was no chance of going back to sleep now. Their earlier activities had provided a nice distraction from the Calling, but now it was back, pressing in on her, setting her teeth on edge.

Cold and anxious, she dressed quickly, wrapping the blanket around her over her clothes. Would the fire still be going? She needed warmth and comfort and the central camp fire would be the only place to find those things before dawn.

There was already someone hunched over the fire as she approached, no more than a silhouette. He was poking it with a stick, trying to coax the embers to life. As she grew closer, her stomach clenched. She recognised the shape of him before she saw the dim light of the coals illuminate his face.

He heard her boots crunching in the snow at the same moment and looked up. He froze and she didn't know how to read his expression.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he said.

She let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and drew nearer. "When did you leave?"

"Not long ago. I… I suffer nightmares, sometimes. I didn't want to disturb you."

A weight lifted from her heart. It was easier to breathe now. He didn't seem upset. Still… "I want to apologise."

He straightened. "Whatever for?"

"For bringing up the Circle and what happened there. I know it's not something you want to remember."

"There's no need to apologise. I remember it daily, regardless." He looked away from her, back at the fire where a flame was licking the wood he'd added. "I know you wouldn't have been a part of that. I hope you believe I wasn't implying that."

"I do."

She settled on the log near him. "I know that many Templars truly think that if you put any mage into a tight enough corner, they'll always turn to blood magic."

"It's not such a crazy thing to believe." He sat down beside her, but he was still looking at the fire and Solana thought that maybe he was avoiding looking at her. "If I had access to a fantastic weapon, a weapon that could get me out of any situation… I don't know if I'd be able to avoid using it if I felt I needed to."

"I would."

He glanced at her and she knew he was unconvinced. It was all very well and good to say that, when you were relatively safe, in the glow of a campfire.

"I know I would because I have."

His lips parted and his expression changed. She dropped her gaze to her lap.

"There's something that I've never told anyone, about that night, that night we ended the Blight." She took a deep breath. The ring glinted in the firelight. With the smell of the smoke it was easy to imagine she was back there. "I could have saved him."

"Alistair?" Cullen prompted.

"Yes. History has no doubt recorded that we were travelling with a Witch of the Wilds."

"I have heard so."

"The night before we rode into battle, she offered me a bargain." Solana twisted the ring. It was still so difficult to speak of it. "We could both live, she said. And it wasn't really blood magic so much as old magic that involved blood."

"That sounds... bad." An echo of her own words when he'd told her about Kirkwall.

"You haven't heard what it was yet." Twist, twist, twist. "She wanted a child. Alistair's child."

"I see… no, actually. A child, as in…?"

"As in she wanted to lie with him and conceive his child, yes."

"I'm sorry Solana, I'm not sure I follow. This child would have ensured he lived?"

Of course, he wouldn't understand. He didn't know about the Taint. He didn't know what she really was. She should tell him now, to the Void with Warden secrets. They were literally killing her.

She swallowed. "There's a reason that a Warden has to kill the archdemon. It's not about strength and skill. That's what they say, but it's a lie."

She had his full attention, those warm brown eyes seemed to bore into hers and he was frowning with concern for her.

Could he look at her the same way if he knew what she carried in her blood? He was of the Chantry. Would he think her some twisted form of darkspawn?

"I can't speak of it." Coward. "But this child would inherit it. And by Morrigan's rituals, all three of us would live."

"What did Alistair have to say about this?"

"I didn't tell him."

She let the words hang until the silence was unbearable.

"You think I kept the offer from him because I was jealous, because I didn't want them to lie together."

"I didn't say that."

"That's not why. I… I didn't tell him because I knew he'd agree. He was so good, so kind… but he wouldn't understand. There was no way he'd comprehend the stakes beyond the fact that we could be together. Morrigan said it wasn't real blood magic, but it was, just old. And the child, that innocent that she would raise as her own, what kind of life would it live? She insisted Alistair was not to know it. What if it was some evil beast that we – I – released upon the world out of my own selfishness? It was blood magic. That was what mattered. After seeing everything that blood magic could do… I made my decision. If it came down to him or me, I would die. My whole life had lead up to that moment, to slaying that demon. My mage training, my time as a Warden, building my army… everything culminated in that final strike. It was mine. I'd made my peace with it. Choosing between a blood magic ritual and my own life was easy."

"But he made the strike instead."

"Templar-trained. He suppressed my magic."

"Maker."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her emotions were close to overwhelming her and she didn't want him to see that. "Tell me I made the right choice?"

"Of course you made the right choice."

His arms wrapped around her and her breath shuddered as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his breast plate.

"I know I should have told him. I shouldn't have made that decision for him."

"It was blood magic. It was evil. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd told him, because you wouldn't have let him do it. Would you?"

No. "I tried to tell him. But I couldn't. I couldn't give him that hope knowing it was false, knowing that if he said yes, I'd have to refuse. But he knew I was hiding something from him. He kept asking and –" she drew a deep breath. Cullen wasn't the person to tell about how they'd spent that final night apart, about how Alistair had coolly excused himself to go to bed when she'd refused to tell him.

Cullen stroked her hair and held her close. "It's not your fault he died."

She didn't respond.

"It's not, Solana. It was the Blight. He was a Warden. He did his sacred duty, he died a hero. It was his choice."

"He didn't know there was another way…"

"There wasn't. If you'd felt there was, you would have offered it to him."

"Don't tell Leliana."

"Leliana would agree with me. Or did you miss the Chantry insignia she wears on her breast?"

Solana let out another shaking breath.

Cullen took her hand and it was a moment before she realised he was staring at the ring. She'd just slept with him, and yet she was wearing another man's ring. She cleared her throat, moving away.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

She bit her lip. "It's not what you think. The ring. It's not… It's not a promise ring or anything like that. He didn't give it to me."

"I wasn't going to –"

"I took it from his corpse."

The way she said it sounded even more heartless than the act itself. She wanted to take the words back. She stared at Cullen, in horror at herself. But his eyes were full of sympathy, as if she hadn't just admitted to something so awful.

"You wanted something to remember him by."

"I…" How to put this into words. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye. This… this is all that was left."

She pulled it from her finger and stared down at the familiar crest. The Grey Wardens, the Wardens now out to perform blood magic. Leliana was right, the ring wasn't Alistair. It wasn't even a part of him. It was habit.

She lifted her arm to throw it into the flame, but Cullen caught her hand. She looked at him, askance.

"Keep it."

"Why?"  

His hand closed around hers. "We all have our scars, Solana. You should be able to bear yours, the way I bear mine." 

Chapter Text

"So... how'd it go?"

They were trekking again up a wide and steep snowy trail. The sun glinted off the ice, making Cullen squint. Varric had caught up with him and Cullen slowed down to accommodate the dwarf's narrow stride.

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell," Cullen said, unable to keep himself from smiling. He'd held Solana to him, beside the fire, until the first sounds of dawn and the change of the watch. She'd fallen asleep against his chest. His back was stiff from sitting upright for so many hours, but it had been worth it, so very worth it.

"But there was kissing?" Varric's eyes sparkled. Cullen let his smile speak for itself. "I'm happy for you, Curly."

"So..." Cullen couldn't resist. "Cassandra and Trevelyan?"

Varric shrugged, "you know what they say, power attracts power. I think they suit each other."

"You might have mentioned that last night."

"I could have."

"Bastard."

Varric laughed and slapped him on the back.

That night they camped by a river, an icy stream that trickled from the peaks, edges frozen like jagged crystal. Solana set up her tent near the water and sat with Celeste, using advanced spellwork to ensnare their evening meal of fresh fish.

Cullen arranged the night's patrols and sent out scouting parties to check for danger. He watched her from a distance, like in the Circle. And, like in the Circle, she caught him looking a few times. But now he didn't mind. He smiled at her when their eyes happened to lock, and she smiled back. It felt like those first moments after a dose of lyrium whenever she did that. His heart beat faster, his head felt light. He felt invincible.

They sat apart when the Inquisition gathered around the fire that night, stealing glances, not wanting to make their attraction too obvious.

She excused herself early. She let her eyes meet his for a long moment as she did. Varric had said she was always last to leave and he gave Cullen a significant look as she left. He didn't want to read too much into it. Dare he hope her look had been an invitation?

He waited a reasonable amount of time, then told the others he was going to turn in.

He'd go past her tent to check… he didn't want to assume. She hadn't actually said anything.

She stepped out from behind one of the tents as he approached, hands clasped innocently behind her back. There was nothing innocent about the way she was looking at him.

They didn't speak. He took her into his arms and assaulted her lips with his own. She hummed her approval as her arms encircled his neck. He carried her the rest of the way to her tent, she didn't protest.

It was darker than it had been the night before. Her tent was shielded from the moonlight by surrounding shrubs and a few overhanging trees. He undressed her by feel alone, kissing her skin as he uncovered it. He'd spent the day imagining things he could do to her, new ways he could demonstrate how he felt in the language of skin and touch. First was her neck, softer than a newborn nug against his lips. He discovered a spot below her jaw that seemed particularly sensitive. Her fingers clenched against his back as he kissed it.

She pushed him away. He was surprised, confused. But only for an instant before her hands were at his belt, the buckle being undone was the only sound.

Her lips met his again. "Lie back," she whispered.

He obeyed.

She found him in the dark. Delicate touches, smooth skin, exquisite torture. He couldn't see anything but a vague shadow as she moved over him, so when connection came he cried out in surprise and pleasure.

She laughed against his mouth. "Is this alright?"

"Yes." His hands found her hips. "Oh, yes."

She was curled up against him, her breathing even. A small, warm body, lost in dreams. He hoped they were good ones. He touched her hair again, feather light, not wanting to wake her. Her arm was draped across his stomach. He gently lifted it, immediately missing its warmth, and shifted away from her.

"Don't go." Her voice was thick with sleep.

He bent to kiss her temple. "Go back to sleep."

Her hand found his cheek. "Please stay. It doesn't hurt when you're here."

He froze. Her warm fingers caressed his face with a sleepy lethargy. "What doesn't hurt?"

She didn't answer. Had she fallen asleep again? What pain was she talking about? He didn't know what to do. How could he leave her in pain? How could he stay and…

"I'll wake you if I stay. I… the nightmares. It's not a good idea for me to be with anyone when I get them."

He felt her move. Her hand was still on his cheek, but it travelled downward, her thumb tracing the line of his scar.

"The Circle?" she sounded more awake.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"You're the last person who should apologise. You saved me. If it hadn't been for you arriving when you did…"

"I should have come sooner. If I'd known…"

"You couldn't have known."

He heard her shifting, then her lips met his. The Circle disappeared from his mind, blanked out by her. She was all-encompassing, overwhelming every one of his senses. One arm snaked around his neck, her other hand pressed against his chest.

"Stay?"

"Alright." Just until dawn.

A murmur of voices against the backdrop of water flowing over stones. He was back in Honnleath. He could hear the mill and the farmers heading out to tend their fields.

Grey light filtered in from the tent canopy. Cullen blinked.

Oh shit.

He jerked upright, reaching for his clothes. Light. Morning. The sounds of people packing up the camp.

Solana sat up too, blinking away sleep. Her eyes fell on him and realisation seemed to hit, because her hand flew to her mouth.

She giggled.

He stared at her. Didn't she understand how serious this was? Sneaking out of her tent in front of his men, and the rest of the Inquisition. He'd never live this down.

Something must have showed in his expression because she sobered and came towards him. She was still naked and for a dizzying moment he wasn't sure if he really wanted to escape her tent or lie her down again and forget about all of them, stay here on this mountain, just the two of them.

She pressed her cheek to his and kept her voice low. "Wait here."

It took her only a moment to dress and then she slipped out of the tent. He sat still, trying to figure out what she was doing, then realised he'd better put clothes on in case he needed to make a run for it.

When she ducked her head in again, he was dressed and attaching his sword to his hip.

"Coast's clear."

"How?"

"I'm magic, remember?" She offered a sweet smile then ducked out again.

It turned out, she'd told those packing up nearby that she'd wanted to wash in the stream before they left. Being the good sers they were, they'd allowed her her privacy without questioning how she'd possibly bathe in water so cold. Thank the Maker Solana had set up her tent so far apart from the others.

"They said the scouts returned already," she reported as she started the process of taking down the tent. "There's some sort of structure in the distance. Max and Solas have gone ahead to take a closer look, but if we leave soon we'll be there by sunset."

"I should have gone with them." Cullen said. He was watching her, not sure what he should do to help. Staying with her had been irresponsible, he'd been shirking his duty. "It could be dangerous."

"They'll be careful." She met his eyes, smiled, returned to her work. She was adept at camping. She moved much quicker than he could, with a grace that obviously came with years of practice. "Thank you."

"Hmm?" her words caught him off guard.

"Thank you for staying."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say. That he'd enjoyed it? That it had possibly been the best night of his life? That he hadn't suffered a single nightmare? That he wanted to fall asleep in her arms every day for the rest of his life? Too much, too soon. "You're welcome."

Chapter Text

"Fenedhis! How was a place like this left empty?"

The elf who'd volunteered to help Cullen with room allocation was looking up at Skyhold's central tower, agape. The late afternoon sun draped the courtyard in autumn colours and glinted golden off the windows, making the crumbling fortress seem even grander than it was.

Cullen was more interested in how they'd managed to find it, stumbling blindly through the snow. They could have headed in any direction, but they'd chosen this one. Trevelyan had chosen this one.

Maybe there really was some truth to his being the Herald of Andraste?

The supplies had been offloaded and mostly sorted, now it was the people that needed places.

Josephine approached with her clipboard. "I've taken one last tour of the place. I'm not certain if some of these rooms can really be called rooms…" She handed him a parchment with a list on it. "But the old barracks is mostly standing and there is plentiful space to set up tents."

The council had gone around when they'd first arrived, selecting the most strategic places for the war room and various offices. They had had few disagreements (for once). Trevelyan had suggested that they divide up what had once been some kind of royal wing into quarters, but Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana had decided otherwise. Trevelyan didn't know it yet, but it was already being outfitted into his new room, a bed chamber worthy of an Inquisitor.

Now they needed to decide on allocation for everyone else. Cullen had been set up at a rickety wooden table and Josephine had asked everyone to line up and come forward one at a time. She'd also insisted that Cullen be in charge. Apparently he looked formidable. He wasn't sure that was a compliment, but if the Ambassador thought that meant fewer people would argue, he was happy to go along with it.

They were about half way down the list of rooms when he looked up to find Solana standing in front him.

"Don't worry about giving me a room," she said, addressing the elf who was scribbling on the clipboard. She glanced at Cullen. "I've been sleeping in a tent for years. It doesn't make a difference to me."

"You realise you are the Hero of Ferelden."

Varric chimed in from where he stood just behind her. "Traditionally heroes do get the best rooms."

She smiled serenely. "Honestly, I don't need a room."

The elf looked to Cullen for confirmation. After a moment, he nodded.

It took Cullen a while to find her later. She'd been helping settle the wounded while he'd been busy assigning quarters. Then she seemingly disappeared. He eventually found her in the pantry, dusting down shelves.

She greeted him warmly. "Thank you for supporting me earlier. I thought you'd argue."

He slipped into the narrow pantry beside her. It smelled like dust, but he liked the close quarters. He particularly liked that they were entirely alone. "I will admit I had ulterior motives."

"Oh?" She looked up at him. They were close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her green eyes. It took all his self control not to bend down and kiss her. But he wasn't sure he'd stop at kissing.

"I have a room," he said instead. "It's not much. It's a loft really, above my office. Cozy. With a hole in the roof."

"Nothing like some fresh air."

"The pigeons particularly enjoy it."

She grinned.

Now for the hard part. "We could share it."

The smile disappeared. His stomach flipped. The blood rushing in his ears was calling for retreat and suddenly he wasn't so glad of the close quarters.

"I see," he said.

"Cullen…"

"It's all right. It was merely a suggestion. It's too soon. I understand." He shifted away from her, wanting nothing more than to get some distance between them. What had he been thinking?

She snagged his sleeve. "It's not that I don't want to."

He examined her face, trying to read her expression. "If you're concerned about how it would appear – us living together – I assure you, it's quite discreet. The room is above my office." He'd said that already. "It's on the ramparts. You could come and go without anyone noticing." He was talking too much. He sounded too desperate.

"It's not that. "

He dropped his gaze. "Forgive me. We've only been together two days and I'm already –"

"I'm dying."

The world stopped. The air left his lungs. His heart stopped beating. Even the roar in his ears from his embarrassment stopped. Then it rushed back. His heart kicked again, hard. She was speaking. He needed to listen.

"Grey Wardens we… Wardens are tainted. That's why we can kill archdemons. That's how we're immune to darkspawn. There's a ritual. Their blood is part of it. But it also means that we…" she swallowed. He wasn't sure he could keep up with what she was saying. "We have a limited lifespan after that ritual. Eventually the Taint gets us, our blood starts singing, drawing us to the Deep Roads. I've been hearing this Calling for months now."

"Months?" He repeated stupidly. She'd known for months?

"It's why I left the mountains. It… it was premature. I thought the other Wardens might have answers for me. But it was affecting them too. We're all hearing it. I don't know why."

She paused, looking up at him. He was unable to speak.

"I… I don't know how much longer I can fight it off. Every day it grows more intense."

It… what was she talking about? He was still struggling to follow. "You have the Blight sickness? That's what you're telling me?"

Her eyes were searching his face, but she didn't say anything.

"Are you a… a ghoul?"

"I'm a Grey Warden."

"Is there a difference?"

She broke eye contact. No. That's what she was confessing to him. There wasn't a difference. The progression of the disease was merely delayed and her time had come.

"Why didn't you tell me?" All the time they'd spent together, and she'd never once… how little did she regard him?

"We're not meant to tell anyone."

"The Inquisition could have helped you."

"You forget, I came to them asking for that help. I am yet to receive it." Her words were cold as a slap. She closed her eyes. "The Inquisition has other priorities."

"If you'd told us the truth about –"

"I told you what was relevant."

"We can save you."

"No, you can't. I'm sorry, Cullen. There's only one known case of it ever being cured and it was under exceptional circumstances. Finding a way would take more time than I have."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He repeated, this time his voice broke. Let her see his emotion, let her understand what she was doing to him. How could she let him come to care for her so much when she knew? "You… you of all people should know this pain." The pain of losing someone who meant everything to you. "Why would you not warn me?"

The colour drained from her face. She hung her head. "You're right. It was selfish."

He turned away from her, scrubbing his face with his hands. Think, dammit. Think. "It's premature you said. If we can figure out the cause, there's a chance it will stop?"

"Temporarily."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it comes for all Wardens eventually. Thirty years from the joining. At best."

He did fast arithmetic. Twenty years. Twenty years left.

"Twenty years is a long time." His voice sounded dead, even to his own ears.

"Is it?"

No, it wasn't. "I… I need some time to… I'm sorry."

Even as he swept away from her, he knew he shouldn't. He should stay, be strong. She was the one who needed comfort, who needed the reassurance. If he was a better man, he would have taken her into his arms and told her it was okay, he loved her regardless. He would have said that if they had so short a time together, they should make each moment count. But instead his feet rang in the stairwell up from the kitchen. Josephine was at her new desk, but he didn't know if she saw him or if she said anything. The hall was full of debris. Trevelyan called after him as he swept passed but didn't follow. Outside at last and up to the ramparts, up to where the mountain air ripped at his clothing and his hair.

He didn't realise where he was going until he was there. The box was sitting in the corner of the room with the rest of his possessions.

He had enough lyrium for one more hit.

“Cullen? Cullen? Oh Maker, speak to me.”

The room swam. Her face came into view. Too perfect, another trick.

He closed his eyes. “It’s not going to work.” His tongue was thick, the words slurred.

He was so thirsty, his throat cracked and dry, but asking for water would only lead them to deny it longer. It was better to pretend he was already gone, maybe then they’d leave him alone for a few more hours.

They’d tried necromancy on Hollard. He’d lived again for five whole tormented minutes. Even dying wasn’t an escape.

The scent of roses, her hand on his cheek.

“Stop, please…” Wasn’t it enough to torture him with pain. Why did they have to torture him with pleasure too?

His guts wrenched and he jerked forward involuntarily. Were they trying to turn him inside out again?

“No, no, no, no, no…” she was saying. “Look at me, please, look at me.”

She was tilting his head up, hand so soft. They liked to do that, counterpoint the soft with the hard. They’d burned all the way down his back a few days before. That heat had started as sensual too.

“Help! Help anyone!” she screamed.

“No! Stop hurting her!” He fought against his captor, they had her in that room! The room with the screams! Uldred had her. He needed to save her. He needed to save her even if it killed him.

He felt his blow land and launched forward. But his legs wouldn’t work, he fell on his hands and knees, his stomach heaved and nausea overwhelmed him.

An empty stomach brought more clarity. He wasn’t in the Circle. He was in his new office. And he hadn’t been captured. He had been…

He looked back at the body he’d knocked aside.

No!

Solana was slumped against the wall. He crawled over to her. What had he done? A sob escaped him. She was drifting in and out of focus.

I’m dying…

No… No please no. He raised a shaking hand to her mouth to feel for breath. She blinked slowly. Alive. Alive but he… he’d hit her. He looked at his hand as if it was not a part of him. How could it – he – have…

“Cullen?” She reached for him.

He jerked away, breath coming in ragged gasps. He was still holding the offending hand, she shouldn’t come near it.

“Shhhh…” she moved onto her knees.

She was bleeding. There was blood dripping from a gash on her temple. He’d done that. He’d hurt her. Lyrium was supposed to take away the pain, why was this happening?

He curled in on himself, another sob ripping through him.

“Shhhh, it’s alright.” Her arms wrapped around him. He would have pushed her away, but his guts were churning again and he was trembling, suddenly freezing cold. He didn’t deserve her comfort.

“I want to go get help,” she said.

“Don’t leave me.”

She expelled a shaking breath, “Okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The moon was painting long shadows across the floor by the time he figured out he’d overdosed. Young Templars built up their resistance to lyrium over time. Too high a dose was deadly. He hadn’t considered what would happen if he took it again after months without it. He’d been stupid. Stupid and weak. And he’d hurt the one thing, the only thing, he cared about.

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone. But he couldn’t bring himself to. She was an anchor in a world still spinning uncontrollably, crackling with confusing memories. Time was twisted in his head, the monsters from years ago were back for blood. He clung to her. The only thing that made sense.

He’d heard stories of Templars who took too much, or exposed themselves to raw Lyrium because they were too desperate for a hit. They went insane. There was no cure.

What if this was it? What if this never stopped?

He’d betrayed the Inquisition.

He’d betrayed her.

“Do you think you can stand?” she asked quietly.

No. But he’d try. He couldn’t speak, his throat was too dry. So he tried to move away from her, remember how his muscles worked, get his feet under him.

“Easy,” she grabbed his arm to steady him.

He tried to rise. He was too heavy.

“I’m going to remove your armour, alright?”

He nodded.

It was a relief. The metal had dug into him, the weight had pulled at his shoulders. She took his hand and he tried to stand again. She managed to sling his arm around her neck.

“Where are we going?” he managed to ask, his voice brittle and slow.

“I’m taking you to get help.”

“You can’t.”

“This is beyond a matter of your pride.”

“There is no one.” He started shivering again, his knees gave in.

She eased him back to the floor. She sat on her haunches opposite, bathed in shadow. “I’m going to go get some supplies then. I promise, I won’t be long. I’d put you to bed, but…” she glanced at the ladder that lead to his loft.

He wanted to ask her not to tell anyone, but it was too many words. His guts wrenched again and by the time he’d regained his equilibrium, she was gone.

He was curled up on foetal position on the floor – the only position where he felt like the ground wasn’t moving – when he heard footsteps outside. He pressed his eyes closed. If it was one of his men, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Candlelight flickered against his eyelids, then hurried footsteps. She fell to her knees beside him and breathed a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes. She set the candle down and tucked a blanket around him.

“I’m sorry.” He meant for frightening her, but there was so much he had to be sorry for.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” She tucked a bundle of cloth under his head, a mean pillow, and ran a gentle hand through his hair.

“I love you.” What a time to say it, lying prone on the floor after running out on her, after striking her. The candlelight illuminated the gash. His chest ached and he wasn’t sure whether it was the lyrium or the guilt. He closed his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Not now like this.”

“You really frightened me there.”

“I know.”

“When I saw you slumped in the corner I thought… I thought something terrible had happened. I… did you take too much?”

He nodded, but the room started wobbling again.

“I’d given it up.”

“I thought you couldn’t give it up?”

“Evidently, you can’t. Or, I can’t. Someone better could.”

“Cullen…”

He uncurled himself and tried to sit. “I’m undeserving of your sympathy.”

“This is my fault.”

“It is not.”

“I shouldn’t have broken the news about the Calling like that. I should have told you sooner, been more delicate.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine and I…” The cut on her brow caught his eye again and the ache in his chest returned and it was echoed by his belly. He doubled over.

“Here,” a clink of china. “I brought you some tea.”

He accepted the cup, but his hand was shaking too hard and the liquid sloshed out.

“Easy, it’s okay.” She took it and guided it to his lips. It was already cooling, no doubt from the trip up across the freezing bailey. He gulped it down, there was honey which soothed his throat, and fragrant ginger, which smelled like safety. His mother had given him ginger when he’d been sick. It was a common Ferelden folk remedy.

She caressed his cheek as she lowered the cup. He was ashamed. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“It’s not the first time.”

Somehow that wasn’t a comfort. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this…”

“Here, put your head in my lap. We can talk more in the morning.”

He let her lower his head. “You don’t need to stay.” Please stay.

“Of course I do.” She stroked his hair. “I’m right here.”

Chapter Text

"I need your help."

Leliana looked at Solana bleary-eyed, lips in a soft frown.

Solana was out of breath. She'd run all the way up to the tower, sending startled ravens screeching. The spymaster had appeared at the top of the stairs with her bow and the arrow was still trained on Solana, where she stood in the shadows mid-way up the final flight.

"It's… it's Cullen."

Her words seemed to echo in the stairwell. It was long past midnight and there was no ambient noise. Even the Herald's Rest tavern had gone quiet.

Leliana blinked and slowly shouldered her bow. "What's happened?"

"Lyrium."

"I see."

Solana came the rest of the way up the stairs. "I didn't know who else to come to. I figured if anyone could keep a secret…" she trailed off, taking in the cages and crates, the corners of Leliana's sanctum where darkness pooled. "I know I can trust you."

"It's common knowledge that Cullen was a Templar, what's the secret?"

Solana wrapped her arms around herself. "He took a dose a couple of hours ago. From what I understand it's the first in many months."

"Months?" Leliana set her bow on her desk. She moved through the shadows with incredible grace, as if she was a part of them. "He willingly gave it up? Why? Josie arranged supplies for our Templars. Did he not realise how dangerous that is? He could have gone insane… or died."

"I don't know. This was news to me too."

Leliana watched her in that uncanny way she had. It looked like she was staring right into her soul. "I'm uncertain what help I could offer."

"I need to move him."

"Move him? He's not…"

Dead? "No." Her heart shuddered at the thought. "I put a sleeping draught in his tea. He's in his office. I can't get him into bed alone."

"Why Solana, I never expected you'd need my help getting a strapping man into bed." Leliana said wryly, a flutter of her old smile on her lips.

In another situation, Solana would have appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, but she was too concerned about the task at hand. "His room is up a ladder."

"Ah, I see. Does it have to be his room?"

"I don't have a room." And getting him down to her tent would be too conspicuous.

"You could always commandeer one."

"No." The way that news traveled in the Inquisition… "No. No one must know. He wouldn't want that."

"Hence your approaching the spymaster," Leliana gave a little bow. "I don't know how much success you and I would have getting him up a ladder. The Commander isn't a small man by any means."

That was true, and Solana wasn't particularly strong. She'd always focused on training her mind, not her body.

"What if I were to rouse some of my agents?"

Solana's immediate instinct was to say no. No more people should know what happened. Cullen was a man of pride. It killed him that even she had seen him so weak and helpless.

"My people are trained to keep secrets," Leliana offered.

A good point. Solana nodded.

Less than an hour later, they hauled the unconscious Commander onto the lumpy bed that was to be his. Herbs were littered under the covers to ward off mice and insects. Solana brushed them aside and tucked her cloak under his head. It was bitter cold, he needed more blankets.

She heard Leliana thank her men and they melted away into the shadows, but Leliana remained. She stood staring up at the starry sky through the hole in the roof for a minute, before joining Solana at Cullen's side.

"I've told them to spread the word he ate something foul. I don't think he'll be up drilling troops at his usual hour."

Solana sank to her haunches and placed a hand on his temple. No fever, but it was damp. "Thank you for the help. I owe you."

Oh Cullen… what do I do now? How do I help you?

"You're in love with him."

Solana jerked upright and stared at her friend. Leliana gave her a small smile. "I'm a student of human nature, remember. That, and I've known you a very long time. "

"It's a good thing you can keep a secret."

"Is there any reason it has to be a secret? He's not exactly in line for the throne."

Solana's mouth felt dry as she turned back to her charge. "I belong to the Wardens."

"The Wardens are off somewhere practicing -."

"But my blood calls to them." She stroked Cullen's cheek. "I told him and he couldn't bear the thought. It drove him to this." She swallowed. "I seem to have a knack for it, driving men to suicide."

"Come now, you're being too hard on yourself."

She released a shaky breath. Leliana placed a hand on her shoulder. "Men will make their own choices. I was there that night. I heard what Alistair said. He didn't die for you, Solana. He died for Ferelden, for the kingdom he loved. He had decided to make that sacrifice long before you even met, by becoming a Warden."

There was nothing to say to that.

"And as for our Commander… lyrium is a greater seductress than any of us could ever hope to be. I've never heard of someone willingly giving it up. The withdrawal can be fatal, if it doesn't drive you to madness first. One could say this was inevitable."

Solana took his hand. Cold and clammy.

"Thank you, Leliana."

"Of course. You're one of my oldest and dearest friends, I am happy to come to your aid whenever you require it… and to talk sense into you."

It felt like someone was crushing his head, like he had trapped it under a cart or a mill wheel. He groaned his agony into the room, caught between sleep and wakefulness, his entire existence the pain behind his eyes.

Something squeezed his hand.

Where was he? Haven? The Frostbacks? Gradually the memory of the day before returned to him. His weakness, his shame. Solana.

His eyes snapped open. Solana. He'd struck her. She said she'd stay with him on the floor of his office. She'd given him tea. He'd slept in her lap. And now – where was he now?

Somewhere soft and warm. A pigeon hopped across the wooden beams above his head, cooing gently. He blinked, trying to orientate himself. He was in a bed. He shouldn't be in a bed.

"How are you feeling?"

He turned to look at the origin of the voice. Solana shifted into focus. The light was streaming in through the roof behind her. It outlined her in gold, like one of those old tapestries of Andraste.

"Where am I?" his tongue was thick and his throat ached.

She reached for something out of his line of sight. He heard water trickling into a mug. Thirsty… so thirsty…

"You're in your room. Here," she passed him the mug. He struggled into a sitting position. His head was still spinning. He downed the water. She refilled the mug and he downed it again.

"How - " His voice was but a croak. He swallowed. "How many people know?"

"Just myself, Leliana and a few of her agents. They won't tell anyone."

"You should find Cassandra. Tell her what happened." He swallowed again. He was too embarrassed to look at her. "She's the only one who knows what I was… what I failed to do. When she approached me in Kirkwall about accompanying her back here and joining the Inquisition, I told her I… It was stupid. She should know."

"Cullen…"

He raked his hands through his hair. His head. Was he dying?

Solana's soft hand cupped his face, turned it to look at her. "It wasn't stupid."

"Yes. It was. No one has succeeded before. I've seen stronger men than I fail. Don't patronise me." His words rang harsher than he'd meant but he was struggling to think through the pain.

"I'm sorry. I'll go get her."

He started shivering again when she left. He lay on his back staring at the beams, trying to stave off the nausea and failing. It was an agonizingly long while before he heard swift footsteps enter his office. He tried to straighten out, look a little less wretched, but his limbs wouldn't co-operate.

Cassandra gasped when she saw him. "Commander!"

Her footsteps hurried to his bedside. He didn't want to look at her. He wanted her to answer his questions without him having to ask.

Where was Solana? Had he scared her away? This was his room, not hers. Maybe she'd passed his care to the Seeker. Maybe she wasn't coming back.

Cassandra knelt beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. The gesture was too familiar and he jerked away. It wasn't appropriate for her to fuss over him like this.

"You didn't say he was this bad."

"I thought 'overdose' would provide the necessary detail," Solana responded coolly. She was there, in the room. He hadn't heard her enter. She was somewhere near the ladder, keeping out of Cassandra's way.

"You should have brought this to my attention sooner." Cassandra said, pouring another mug of water.

"I didn't know about your little arrangement."

She was angry, angry with him for keeping it from her. And rightly so. He should have told her.

"You're right. I apologise." He opened his eyes to find Cassandra pinching the bridge of her nose. "Go to the kitchens and bring a jar of charcoal from the fire. However much you can find. And elfroot, for the pain."

He heard Solana leave. Cassandra looked down at him and sighed. "How did this happen?"

He wasn't ready to face her questions. He wanted the water she was holding. "Am I going to die?"

"If you were, you probably would have already. Do you want to die?"

"Of course not."

"So why this then, Cullen? I thought you were coping? You said you'd speak to me if you ever felt the need to…"

"It was a moment of weakness."

"A moment that very nearly cost you your life." She sighed again. The sunlight glinted off her armour when she moved. "Did she spur your advances?"

"What?"

"The Warden. Is this some pathetic attempt to garner her sympathy?"

Did everyone know about his feelings? Had they really been that obvious?

"I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was looking for – " relief. She was going to die. The memory stabbed at him afresh. There was nothing any of them could do to stop it. "I took the normal amount, nothing more."

"But your body was no longer equipped."

"Yes. I should have gotten rid of that box. I should have left it in the wreckage of Haven. All of this time and I'm still..." he swallowed again. No matter how many times he did, his mouth remained dry. "I'm sorry. I should have been stronger. You have more important things to worry about than this."

The sound of someone climbing up ladder halted his words. She must have run to be back so soon. But even in his delirium, he realised it couldn't possibly be Solana.

"You. What are you doing here?" Cassandra spat.

Cullen struggled up on his elbows. It was that strange boy, Cole. The one who'd arrived at Haven moments before Corypheus. He'd been seeing to the wounded on the journey over. Perhaps he was some kind of healer?

"I came to help," he said in that dreamy sing-song way that chilled Cullen to his core. His hat was hiding his eyes, it was impossible to tell what his expression was. If he had one. "She does care for you," he said. "That's why she couldn't tell you. That night by the fire, woodsmoke and the feel of your body on hers. She wanted to."

"What on Thedas are you talking about? Go away." Cassandra waved him off as if he was some a troublesome buzzard.

Cullen knew he had flushed red. "What are you?" He asked. There was no way a mortal being could know those things.

"It's a Demon," Cassandra said.

"I don't know what I am, but I know you're hurting. I want to help."

Cassandra's hand moved to her sword hilt, but Cullen stopped her with a light touch.

Cole continued talking. "The lash of experimental magic. Unnatural, twisting. My body doesn't bend that way! It wasn't your fault you couldn't stop them. You are not a coward for giving in to pain and terror. It's what makes you real. Your men respect that. They follow you out of admiration, not fear. You owe it to them to keep trying."

Cullen felt more than saw Cassandra looking at him. He was trembling again. "I don't think I can."

"You can."

Cole took a step closer. Cassandra tensed.

"I'll make you forget."

"Forget what?"

Cole raised his hand and Cullen flinched.

"What are you doing?" There was warning in Cassandra's voice.

"Forget," Cole said.

"What did you do? What did you take from me!" Cullen demanded. 

But Cole had turned his attention to Cassandra. "Forget," he repeated.

And then he was gone. He didn't climb back down the ladder, he simply wasn't there anymore.

"Where did he go?" Cullen asked.

"Who?"

"That boy… Cole. He was there." He pointed to the spot where he'd been standing.

Cassandra shook her head. "You're hallucinating, Commander. Here, drink." She handed him the mug.

Chapter Text

Cassandra told Cullen that he had taken lyrium and he had to believe her because he felt awful.

He could remember the terrible moments before with crystal clarity. He'd invited Solana to live with him, heart light, high on two nights filled with her attentions. Then her confession and his cowardice. Then nothing until he was on the floor of his office, retching.

He knew Cole had been there and he knew that Cole had made him forget. But was taking lyrium all he'd forgotten?

The rest of the afternoon was hazy. He'd slept and when he'd woken Cassandra had fed him charcoal and elfroot. He knew Solana must have brought it from the kitchens, but she was no longer there. The charcoal was bitter and it stuck in his throat, but between that and the water, the shaking stopped. The elfroot had taken away his pain.

He had tossed in tormented sleep and each time he'd woken, he'd expected he might find Solana at his side, but instead it was the Seeker who poured cool mugs of water from a pitcher and bid him rest. When evening came, he was able to sit. He was also ravenous. He wanted to go down to the hall to eat with everyone else, but Cassandra insisted she'd bring something.

He didn't ask where Solana was. It was selfish to want her there when he'd treated her the way he had. It was selfish to want her at all.

He managed to sleep again after his meal, splintered dreams that he couldn't remember upon waking, panting, in cold sweat. Cassandra was still at his bedside, candle burned low. Her head was back against the wall. She'd fallen asleep.

The room felt claustrophobic. He'd spent too long in the bed. Quietly, so as not to wake his sentinel, he dressed. A walk would do him good.

The ramparts were icy cold but the sky was bright. So far from a town or any other civilisation, the stars were like glittering jewels. Or perhaps everything simply looked more beautiful because he'd been so near death? The air was fresh and crisp in his lungs. It was quiet.

The only thing missing was her.

He'd turned back to return to his quarters when a small figure on the wall caught his eye.

It was the unmistakable silhouette of Cole. He was perched on the outermost battlements, feet dangling, hat low over his eyes.

Cullen approached him cautiously. "The height doesn't frighten you?"

The boy glanced at him, as if he'd been aware of his presence all along. His skin was almost translucent in the moonlight.

"Very little frightens me"

"What memory did you take from me, earlier?" No reason to delay asking what he needed to.

"Relief."

Cullen waited for him to say more, but he seemed more interested in the snow flurries so far down below him.

"You made me forget the satisfaction that the lyrium gave me?" he guessed.

"Five whole minutes before the pain." Cole provided.

"I appreciate the thought but… that's not how the addiction works. Regardless of whether or not my mind has fond memories of the stuff, my body will crave it all the same."

There were so many more painful memories he could have taken, why that one?

Cole looked at him, his eyes pale and cold as two glass marbles. "Those memories make you who you are, Commander. I couldn't take that from you." His attention moved back to the frozen landscape "Puppies, no begging. Not Samson, a peacekeeper."

"You're making little sense."

The boy fell completely silent.

Cullen sighed. "Well, then. Good evening, I suppose." He turned back towards his office.

"Commander?" Cole was still looking out over the wall as if he hadn't spoken, but his voice cut across the still night. "She needs you to be strong."

"Mind if I sit?"

Solana shook her head. She didn't even look at the man who slid into the seat beside her. It was late, but the tavern was still open. The bard had given up singing, her voice must have been tired. But she was still strumming her lute and Solana suspected she would keep strumming it until people stopped tipping.

"I'll have another please," she tilted her stein at the barkeep. He nodded and got the bottle down again.

The man beside her sighed. "You don't think you might have had enough?"

He must have been looking at the line of assorted mugs and tankards in front of her.

"Clearly you haven't heard about famous Warden drinking prowesss." She responded. "There was one man who could drink so much ale that… that…" How had the story gone? She couldn't remember.

The man cleared his throat. She finally turned to look at him. The Warden insignia glinted on his armour. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it. It was partly obscured by a big, black beard.

"I've heard of you. I think. Redcliffe?"

Max had gone to Redcliffe to fetch him while she'd been training mages. In everything that had followed, she'd completely forgotten about him.

"And I've certainly heard of you. Name's Blackwall." He offered her his hand. She stared at it, not sure what to do with it. Eventually he lowered it.

Her drink arrived and she took a long swig. "You also here to stop the Calling?"

His bushy eyebrows rose.

"Oh, I don't mean in the Inquisition." She made a wide-armed gesture with her stein, sloshing liquid across the bar. "Oops, sorry. Obviously you're with the Inquisition because of what's happening with the others."

"The others… yes."

"I meant at the tavern, at this hour. It's the only thing that softens it at this stage. But I'll make a pact with you. You don't go to the Deep Roads and I won't either? Okay? We'll stop each other."

"All Wardens end up at the Deep Roads." He provided, unhelpfully.

"Yes, I know that. But I mean now."

He shook his head, "From the look of it, I'd say you're not going anywhere tonight."

"Right you are." Another glug of the bitter liquid. The burning in her throat reminded her of lyrium potion. No, not a train of thought she wanted to pursue.

"Okay, I think you've had enough." Blackwall gently took the mug from her hand. The room was spinning. He put a pile of coin on the table. "This should cover it."

The barkeep nodded in acknowledgement.

"I can buy my own drinks," she said on a hiccup. "I'm going to stay here, if it's all the same to you."

"It's not, come on." He took her by the elbow and helped her to stand.

There was raucous laughter from the floor above. "That sounds like fun." She wanted to go join them, but he held her firm.

"Where am I taking you?"

"You're not taking me. You're leaving me. I'm fine."

"Pretty thing like you in this condition? Many a man would take advantage."

"Are you flirting with me?"

He sighed again. His expression was difficult to read beneath the beard but she thought he might have been annoyed.

"I took a vow long ago to help the helpless," he said. "I'm relatively certain that this counts. Come on."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to the door.

"I took that vow too. I think. In death, victory? No wait it's the other way around."

"Different vow."

"You took more than one vow?"

"Something like that, come on."

The air outside was so cold it was painful. It stung her skin and it felt like her eyeballs were one blink away from being frozen over.

"Where have they put you?" Blackwall asked.

"Who?"

"Your quarters, where do I find them?"

"My… a tent. I can get there myself."

"They put you in a tent?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"No, I just thought…. Well you're the Hero aren't you? The Grey Warden? You single-handedly stopped the Fifth Blight."

She pushed away from him. "Not single-handedly. Don't lionize me with a stolen title."

His large brow furrowed. "Stolen?"

She hiccuped again. The alcohol was beginning to turn her stomach. "It's that way," she pointed. Then thought better of it. "No, I think it's that way"

He closed the space between them and took hold of her arm. "I'm in the stables. It would be easier for me to take you there. Warmer, too."

She looked up into his eyes. "What are you asking?"

"Just what I said."

"Because I'm seeing someone."

His beard smiled. "I wasn't trying to proposition you." He started guiding down the stairs that lead to the lower bailey. "Don't misunderstand, you are a very impressive person. But if I was seeking that kind of comfort, I would do so when you were sober."

"I should go check on him."

"In this condition?"

"I need to see if he's alright. Cassandra said I should give him space. How long is space?"

"I believe space is long enough to wait until morning."

They'd reached the courtyard and the barn was straight ahead. She was trying to figure out the easiest way to get to his office from here. It wasn't far away, just up onto the ramparts. "I think… I think I love him." She said.

"That's very nice," Blackwall said, urging her forward.

"He's so kind and just and he really wants to help make the world a better place. I look at him and all the problems, all of this, it doesn't seem so insur... insurmountable anymore."

"I'm happy for you, but I'm not sure you want to be telling me these things. Let's get you to bed."

"But you understand. You understand more than anyone else. I can't. I can't be a Warden and what he wants. How can I be with him while my entire being calls to my duty? There's no future. It's wrong to lead him on. I should never have even kissed him, Let alone..."

"Okay, too much information. Inside you go." He placed a hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward, through the barn doors into the warmth beyond.

Cullen moved out of the shadows that clung to the ramparts near the entrance to his office. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been on his way back to bed when he'd heard them coming. He'd stayed to check that Blackwall hadn't meant her any harm.

He swallowed. So that's how things were, then. She returned his feelings – that knowledge should have lightened his heart, even just a little shouldn't it? She returned his feelings but there was no future. The blighted Grey Wardens had ensured that. There was no point picturing them building a life after all this.

Cole had said he needed to be strong, so he would be. He clenched his teeth. He wouldn't make her explain. He'd be the one to end it.

Chapter Text

The morning sun dappled the wooden floor as Cullen entered the barn.

It smelled of hay and manure. It was a rich, earthy scent that reminded him of the house where he's grown up. They'd had a small property, too small to raise proper horses, but they'd had a little pony at one stage. His sisters had doted on that animal. He'd helped his father construct a pen and rough shelter for it and they'd taken turns with the chore of caring for it. Which, as far as his sisters were concerned, meant he and his brother got the honour of mucking out the shelter while they took it upon themselves to feed it and see to its grooming.

Solana would have been at home there. He lurked by the door, watching as she brushed the mane of one of the Inquisitor's fine steeds. She was wearing an apron and gloves, her hair swept up into a messy bun. She was so beautiful. Even here, like this.

Delaying wouldn't make what he had to do any easier. He cleared his throat.

She turned and her face lit up when she saw him. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to remember they weren't alone and, with a furtive glance at Blackwall who was sitting whittling in the far corner, said only, "You're looking well."

He nodded. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." She wiped her hands on her apron and called to Blackwall that she'd only be a minute.

Cullen followed her out the back of the barn.

"I was going to come check on you as soon as I was done here," she said. "I didn't expect you to be up and about already."

"Taking up a new trade?" He asked her.

"I owed him a favour. How are you feeling?"

There was a quiet spot under a tree where they could speak without being overheard. The light caught her hair and Cullen could see the multitude of colours that made up what he'd always thought of as red. The green apron suited her. Maker, he wanted her.

"I've been better. But I will survive."

"Cassandra said it should be simple to arrange a supply for you."

"It would, but I told her not to."

Solana stared at him. The breeze caught at her hair. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Not entirely."

"Cullen, you could die."

He turned from her, drawing as much cold air as he could into his lungs. This would be easier if she wasn't looking at him like that. "I'm aware of the risks."

"Sorry, I didn't mean –"

"Don't apologise. I… you were honest with me yesterday. It's time I'm honest with you." He took hold of the tree trunk. He wasn't feeling as steady on his feet as he let on, but he didn't want to appear weak. "Forgive me, this is difficult to say."

She took his hand. "Take your time. Do you want to go somewhere where you can sit?"

He shook his head. He had to do this now or he never would. Her hand felt so good clasping his. He needed to focus. He gently freed himself.

"You know, I wanted to be a Templar since I was eight years old? I longed to be a part of something greater, to do good. Taking that first dose of lyrium on the day I was initiated… it was the realisation of a dream. After that, they give you regular doses. Within the Order it's normal, routine. You don't realise how badly you need it until… I mean you hear stories but… the first time I realised how dependent I was, was when the Ferelden Circle fell. The days they kept me there without it, the withdrawal alone was torture. You saw it for yourself. I wasn't even sure if you were real."

"You don't have to explain," she said.

"Yes, yes I do. Afterwards… I should have left. They had no business keeping me in that place. But they did. For two whole years. And I didn't have any recourse. It was only when… there was an incident. Due to my exemplary record and exceptional circumstances they finally approved my transfer to Kirkwall."

"What happened?" she asked.

He couldn't bear to look at her. He closed his eyes. "I nearly…" there was no reason to hide the truth from her. If she started hating him, that would only make things easier for her. "I nearly killed three apprentices. I thought they were meeting to practice blood magic. My superiors wouldn't listen to my concerns, so I followed them. When they started the ritual… let's just say they're lucky there were others of my order near enough to intervene."

"And were they practicing blood magic?"

"No. An experimental communication spell, I believe. The youngest was missing home."

"Maker."

He nodded. He was glad he couldn't see her face.

"In Kirkwall I was given a promotion, I was somewhere new. I thought that's what I wanted. The Knight-Commander was strict but, I thought, fair. At least at first." Another deep breath. His head was still aching. He massaged his temple. "But her methods became more and more stringent. I didn't approve, but what could I do? I couldn't leave. I couldn't be like Samson, strung out and insane. I stayed for the lyrium."

"From what I hear, it's just as well you did."

He spun on her. "Don't you see? It's a leash. It's a stranglehold. As long as I need lyrium, I can't… I can't be the person I want. I have to serve my masters, whomever they may be. I don't want that anymore."

He could see she was taken aback by his tone. Her eyes had gone wide. Good. Let her fear him. Let her hate him.

"And I can't… I can't ask you to go through this with me."

"Cullen…"

"No. I won't. I've already…" the cut on her head was still red and angry. It sickened him to see it. "I've already hurt you. I can't risk doing it again."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I've made up my mind." His chest ached. He couldn't meet her gaze. "I won't put you at risk. Not for anything. And if you do have limited time, you deserve better."

"This is quite a change from us sharing a room."

Maker, she knew just what to say to twist the dagger.

"I didn't know how close to the precipice I was."

"Are you sure you don't want time –"

"Solana, please." His voice cracked traitorously. "I've made up my mind," he repeated.

"Okay."

He dared to look at her. She was still, the wind whipping at her skirts and hair. No expression, as if in shock. He'd done that. He felt the urge to take her in his arms and kiss away everything he'd said. But that would only delay the inevitable. She'd said it herself, there was no future.

"I… I should get back." She indicated over her shoulder.

All he could do was nod.

There was a small grove not far outside of Skyhold's gates. It was set against the hard rock of the mountain, circled by snow-laden trees. The wind whipped through the branches, making them clatter and sigh. The Frostbacks loomed overhead, stoic and beautiful.

"Death and damnation!"

A nearby boulder splintered, sending forth hundred fragments. Solana glared at it, chest heaving. She spun and struck at it again, letting loose a string of curses, each more creative than the last, and each accompanied by a blast from her staff, until the rock was a jagged wreck.

"I'd ask if something were the matter, but that would seem redundant." Solana turned. Celeste was standing behind her in fresh robes and carrying a basket.

Solana wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "How did you find me?"

"I followed the shouting."

Solana cringed. She'd specifically ventured far enough from Skyhold that she thought no one would hear her.

Celeste chuckled. She held out the basket. "I brought food."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the best of moods."

"Really? I hadn't guessed." Celeste set down the basket and walked over to the rock. "You know, if you leave this here like this, someone is eventually going to put it down as a mysterious landmark." She waved a hand and the splinters of stone rose to reform mid-air. With a look of intense focus, she put them all back in place, so the rock was as good as if Solana had never been there.

"Your magic is coming along," Solana commented. That was putting it mildly.

"Thanks to you."

Solana went over to the basket and peeked inside. Dry figs and cured meat. "Where'd you get this?"

"Kitchens. I work there now."

"What? Since when?"

Celeste smiled brightly. "It seems Commander Cullen put a good word in for me after the avalanche. Saving his life seems to have put- Solana?"

Her expression must have changed in reaction to that name. She pressed her eyes closed. "Nothing. That's good. I was worried they'd throw you back in jail."

Celeste stooped to open the basket, withdrawing a picnic blanket of all things. "Have you seen the jail? Half of it's fallen off a cliff. I think they're going to save it for special cases only." She waved a hand and the snow cleared from a small spot.

Solana stared. "You do yourself a discredit. I'd say you're special."

Celeste shook out the blanket and put it down. "You're too kind. Shall we?"

She began packing out the food and Solana joined her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. She was surprised to find the ground beneath the blanket had been dried by that spell. "Are you going to tell me where you've been studying?"

"That depends." Celeste withdrew a bottle of wine. "Are you going to tell me what's got you destroying things?"

"Pass that bottle here, and I just might."

Half an hour later, Solana was lying on her back staring up through the trees at the sky and hugging the near-empty bottle to her chest.

"Thing is, he says he's distancing himself because he doesn't want to hurt me. But I know that's not it. It's because of how I hurt him. You didn't see his face. And he was right, he was completely right when he said I should have known better. Alistair died and I stopped functioning. How could I willingly do that to Cullen? What was I thinking?"

Celeste was leaning against a tree trunk, chewing on a piece of cured meat. "I don't think you were thinking."

"No, I suppose not."

"I mean really, Cullen? A Templar?"

"He's not a Templar anymore."

"Still."

Solana rolled over and rested her head on her arms. "I'm surprised you're not more concerned with my deep, dark, secret."

"You mean Cullen's not your deep, dark secret?"

"He's blonde."

"Is he? I always thought he was more of a redhead."

"No, definitely blonde."

"I suppose you would know." Celeste reached for the wine. She took a swig from the bottle. "As for your other secret, Fiona told me about the Calling."

"Fiona?" Solana raised her head.

Celeste nodded. "She's agreed to take me on as an apprentice. Which answers your question about who's teaching me."

"I'm impressed."

"I was going to go back to Denerim, you know? But I think… maybe it's worth hanging around. The Inquisition is doing things. Good things. It might be nice to be on the right side of history."

Solana smiled in response, but something didn't seem quite right.

Good of you to keep the secret after so long…

That's what Fiona had said when she'd mentioned The Calling. So why would she have gone and told Celeste about it?

Chapter Text

Every single mouth in the Herald's Rest fell silent. Even the bard stopped playing.

Varric cleared his throat. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

The dark-haired man in the doorway next to him was silhouetted by the evening light. He glared at the dwarf. "You said no one would recognise me."

"I said it was unlikely that anyone would recognise you."

Solana, who'd swung around on her stool at the bar to see what had caused everyone to stop talking, cocked her head. The gesture must have caught Varric's eye because he waved at her and hurried across the room, with his friend in tow.

"Hero! Meet the Champion. Champion, meet the Hero."

Either Solana was drunker than she'd thought or that still didn't make much sense. "Your name's Champion?" she asked as the man stood awkwardly beside her while Varric ordered them a round of drinks. The bard started singing again and conversation resumed.

"No, my name's Garret." He smiled.

"What?" Varric looked shocked. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you use that name."

"It is my name." He offered Solana his hand. "Garret Hawke. And you're The Warden, I imagine"

"Am a Warden." She waved a hand lazily. "There's another one around here somewhere. He likes to watch I don't fall off the stool."

Varric and Hawke exchanged a look.

"Wait." Solana narrowed her eyes. "I know you. You're the mage rebel. Kirkwall Chantry."

Hawke chuckled. "That was Anders. I had nothing to do with that."

"Does Cul… does he know you're here?"

Hawke looked at her blankly. Varric sighed. "She means Commander Cullen."

Solana cringed.

"So, things not going so well with you two then?" Varric asked.

She didn't answer, just picked up her stein and took a long drink.

"In answer to your question, no." Hawke said. "But I believe he'll know soon enough. I just spoke to your Inquisitor. I heard you reported some trouble with the Wardens?"

She reached the bottom of the mug. She squinted at it. She thought there'd been more.

"Now might not be the best time to talk to her about that," Varric said, under his breath.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "The Wardens blood magic old gods. Inquisition said they'd help, but then archdemon. So no help yet. Why?"

Hawke stared at her. She was opening her mouth to ask why when their drinks arrived. She reached for hers, but a hand snaked around from behind her to stop her. She groaned, without looking at who was standing there. "May I present Warden Blackwall," she said. "He can probably make more sense than me."

He introduced himself. He didn't seem to recognise who Hawke was either which made her feel a little better.

"I don't know how he stays sober," she said.

"I have to, don't I? Otherwise you might take yourself off to the Deep Roads."

"The Deep Roads?" Hawke queried. "Why?"

She sensed Blackwall shrug. "Don't know. She keeps saying that."

"The Deep Roads isn't exactly a pleasant place," Hawke said.

"I know. Been there. Can I please have another drink?" The Calling had been spectacularly grating that day. Usually the alcohol dulled the pain more than this. Maybe the pain was particularly bad, or maybe her legendary Warden alcohol tolerance had finally decided to kick in.

"No." Blackwall said.

Varric chuckled into his ale.

 Solana sat up and whacked her head on a low beam.

"Ow!"

Her head felt like it was being eaten from the inside by hungry nugs. She hoped that she was tremendously hungover and this wasn't just The Calling. Her mouth tasted like ash and felt like sandpaper, so that was a good sign.

She felt her way over the hay bale. Her foot got stuck and she tumbled with complete lack of grace onto the floor of the loft.

Thump. "Ow!"

"You okay up there?" Blackwall called. What time was it? By the horrible brightness coming through the barn door, it was already late morning. Her stomach churned.

"Define, 'okay'?"

He chuckled. "How much do you remember from last night?"

She stood and tentatively felt her way downstairs. He was busy with his latest woodwork project, a gryphon rocking horse. His eyes didn't leave the layer of varnish he was applying as she gingerly approached.

"I remember Varric introducing his friend. His friend asked something about the Wardens. I don't know what I said… things go pretty dark after that."

Blackwall shook his head, but he was smiling good-naturedly. "You wrestled me for a mug of ale, downed half of it before I could stop you and then promptly passed out. Between us, the Champion and I got you back here safe. Not your most discrete exit, I'm afraid."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sorry."

"You know I don't mind. I'd rather be there than let you alone."

She shook her head. "How do you do it?"

His eyes rose to hers. "Do what?"

"How do you cope? You must have some kind of coping mechanism for it? You're always so calm. I wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong by looking at you."

His eyes narrowed as if he wasn't quite sure what she was talking about.

"The Calling?" she prompted.

"The…" He cleared his throat. "I do not fear the Calling… and worrying about it only gives it power." He nodded decisively.

She snorted. "And I was told I had an iron will."

A head appeared around the barn door. "Am I interrupting? You said I should come back later."

Hawke. Solana gave him a small wave.

He strode into the room. "Ah, I see you're up. Do we need to redo introductions?"

"No I… I remember you. You're a little less blurry than my first impression."

He laughed. "Possibly less charming too. You kept telling me how charming I was on the way up here."

"I believe she was talking to me," Blackwall said. His eyes sparkled. He was enjoying this.

"How can I help you?" she asked Hawke.

"I was hoping we could go somewhere to talk. Blackwall, you're welcome to join us. It's a matter of some sensitivity. I'd prefer we talk somewhere private."

"That sounds ominous," Solana said.

"Oh, it is."

"Now I'm intrigued."

She lead Hawke up to the kitchens. Not because it was private, but because she knew there would be food there and a cup of something to help with this headache. What day was it? Would Celeste be there? People kept stopping to stare at Hawke. He nodded to them politely. It reminded her of when she'd first arrived at Haven. He seemed to take it more in his stride.

She was in luck. Not only was Celeste on duty, but she had kept some sausages aside for Solana from the morning meal.

"Word is you had a rough night," she said as she handed Solana the plate.

"Word travels exceptionally fast in this place."

"It's almost midday."

She grunted, accepted the plate and pushed open the door to the hall. She heard soft laughter behind her and knew that Hawke and Celeste where sharing their amusement. She'd forgotten to introduce them.

That could come later.

Across the hall, she shouldered into the little room where Trevelyan kept his collection of rare wines from throughout Thedas. Everything was caked in dust. She picked up a bottle, something about Wardens, and uncorked it with her teeth.

"This is quite the collection," Hawke mused. "I have a friend who'd appreciate it."

"I don't think Max even drinks," she said. "He just likes collecting things." She took a swig, unapologetically. Maker, this stuff was foul. It tasted like someone had fermented a mushroom and then mixed it with vitriol.

"Are you sure you should –"

"Don't worry, he won't notice."

"I meant more considering you only just woke up."

"Oh. No, this is just to take the edge off." She offered him a smile. "Don't worry, I won't give you a repeat of last night." She sat down on a barrel and balanced her plate on her knees. "So, we're alone. What would you like to discuss?"

Hawke leaned back against the wall with his arms folded. "Varric said you've seen the Grey Wardens recently?"

"How recent is recent?"

"They've been disappearing for months now."

"Yes, they've been going to the Deep Roads. A number of them have banded together with some hair-brained scheme to end all Blights forever."

"How long have you known?" His tone was vaguely accusatory. She didn't have time or patience for that.

"I've known since shortly after I heard the call myself."

"The call?"

"To the Deep Roads." If Fiona was telling her apprentices, then there was no harm in telling someone called The Champion, was there? She couldn't think straight. She took a bite out of one of the sausages. This could go one of two ways. Either the oily food would make her feel immediately better, or she'd need to make a very quick exit.

"I don't follow," Hawke said.

She spoke around her food. "Wardens are cursed to go to the Deep Roads after about thirty years," she gestured with her hands. "But now something is making us all want to go. And when I say want I mean want."

"That's what Blackwall meant last night when he said if he didn't keep an eye on you you'd go to the Deep Roads."

She took another swig of the foul alcohol to wash down the sausage and grimaced. "He's exaggerating. I'm more likely to go when I'm not drinking. The drink lessons the pain a bit."

"This call hurts you?"

"Have you ever mistakenly scratched a stone surface, or withdrawn a weapon and it makes that noise that echoes through your skull and sets your teeth on edge?"

"Yes, I know the sound you mean."

She nodded. "Then you understand. It's like that but twisted into strange music. And it's not just a reverberation either. It's voices calling out horrible commands that you can only half understand. And nightmares. Nightmares that make you wish for death. Which is what they're designed to do, I suppose."

"Designed? The Wardens are cursed on purpose?"

Solana shrugged. "Centuries ago. I know very little of it. I was told it was the Taint that caused us to die. I suppose we do eventually succumb to it and this Calling means we go down fighting. It forces our deaths to have purpose."

Hawke frowned thoughtfully. She let him think it over while she finished the rest of the sausages. She did offer him one, but he declined.

Eventually he said, "this does fit with my theory."

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm interested to hear it."

"I've fought Corypheus before."

She paused her chewing.

"In fact, I killed Corypheus before. I don't know how he survived, but when Varric said he was the one who attacked Haven, I knew I had to find out. "

"How does this fit in with the Wardens?"

"When I encountered him before, he was being kept captive by them. He could somehow use their connection to the darkspawn to influence them."

"Influence them, like blood magic?"

"Precisely. Mind control."

She clutched the edges of the plate on her lap. "You think that's what's happening to me? To the others?"

"Not outside the realms of possibility."

"He wants the Wardens to destroy themselves before they can oppose him."

"That's what I'm thinking."

Solana pushed open the doors of the war room, knowing she'd probably had more of that foul alcohol than she'd meant to. The bottle was light in her hand.

Shit, it was still in her hand.

Oh well, that hardly mattered now. "Mind if I join?"

The War Council stared at her. Eventually Max cleared his throat. "No, no of course, you're always welcome."

He moved aside to make room for her.

"As I was saying," Josephine glanced down at her papers. "The empress is holding peace talks under the auspices of a grand ball. Every power in Orlais will be there. It's the perfect place for a -"

"Seriously?"

They were all looking at her again. Leliana's brow was furrowed with concern. Josephine looked shocked. Cullen… stoic, she thought. She couldn't look at him for long. "You're seriously discussing attending a ball?"

"We're discussing stopping an assassination plot." Max provided. Was he sounding annoyed? She'd never heard him annoyed before.

Ah, the alcohol. She'd forgotten about it again. She put it on the table, knocking aside one of their markers. "Sorry, Max. I'll replace it. I just needed…" What had she been saying?

That's right. She leaned on the table, looking down at the familiar map. Her eyes automatically fell on lake Calenhad, the location of the only home she'd ever known. "When I joined the Inquisition I had one request. Wardens, blood magic. You all remember."

"We haven't forgotten," Max assured her.

She ignored him. "I've been speaking to the Champion. He has an interesting theory."

"The Champion?" Cullen cut in.

Now all the attention in the room moved to him.

"The Champion. Of Kirkwall. He's here?"

Leliana started laughing. Cassandra sighed dramatically.

"Oh, Commander. You really are oblivious," Leliana said. "Even Solas made a comment about it this morning, and he hasn't left that study of his for days."

Solana risked a glance up at Cullen. He'd gone sheet pale. Her heart gave a painful twang. She needed to focus.

"Hawke says that he's faced Corypheus before. And he was using mind control, on Wardens."

Leliana immediately sobered. "Mind control?"

"Yes." Solana purposefully looked at Cullen. "Making them see and hear things."

He jerked. "Hear things?"

Good, he understood. She nodded.

"So, your Warden problem is related to Corypheus after all," Leliana said.

"Now is it important enough to warrant your attention?"

She shouldn't have said it. It was cruel and ungrateful. They may well have made good on their promise to help had Haven not fallen. Still, a ball?

Max placed a hand on her arm, startling her. "You're right. We should have investigated before now. Did the Champion say anything more?"

She blinked at him. His cooperation had been easier to gain than she'd expected. "He has a Warden contact who left them more recently than I. Said he heard word they were headed to the Western Approach to perform some ritual. It has to be the blood magic one, the one I told you about."

He nodded. "This does take priority. Cullen, how long before we can be there?"

"With an army? Over a month."

"We don't have that kind of time," Solana said. She focused on the Inquisitor.

"What if it's just a few of us? We can take the fastest steeds," he suggested. 

"A few of…" Cullen challenged. "Against blood magic and demons… are you certain that's wise?"

"I've fought demons before," Solana said.

"As have I."

The voice behind her made her turn. Hawke had opened the war room door, perhaps concerned that she'd passed out again before delivering his plea to the Council.

"Count me in." Varric stepped out from behind him.

"That's settled then," Max said. "The four of us will ride out at dawn. Leliana, send word to Scout Harding. She's in the Exalted Plains isn't she? She should be able to get there before us, set up camp, do some initial reconnaissance."

"As you wish, Inquisitor."

"I still don't think this is wise," Cullen said. "Solana."

The sound of her name from his lips pulled her attention back to him. His expression looked pained. "Hero. The Western Approach… it's bordered by an abyss. They say it leads straight…" he cleared his throat. "Straight to the Deep Roads."

He held her gaze.

"You're concerned the Wardens will unleash darkspawn?" Max asked, but Solana knew that's not what he'd meant at all. The Calling would be so much harder to resist when there was an entrance to the Deep Roads so near.

"I recognise the risks," she said to Cullen.

His gaze fell, his shoulders sagged. He took a deep breath and expelled it. "I see."

Dammit, she couldn't leave him like that. "Saving the Wardens is what I came here to do, Cullen."

"Yes, of course." His eyes were focused on the table. He didn't look at her.

She reached for the bottle of alcohol again and took a swig.

Max rubbed his hands together. "Right, if we're all agreed, I think we should go and ready ourselves. We have a long journey ahead of us."

"Andraste preserve me," Cullen muttered.

Cullen watched as they filed out of the room one-by-one. Cassandra's hand slipped into Trevelyan's when they thought no one was looking. Cullen swallowed. He couldn't do that. He couldn't give the woman he loved a night of comfort before her long and difficult journey.

Did she even intend to return?

What was waiting for her here after all? What reason did she have to-

He was slammed bodily against the wall. There was no chance to reach for his weapon. An arm pressed on his larynx, cutting off his air and the cold steel of a knife twinkled threateningly beneath his chin.

"What did you do to her?" Leliana growled.

"Do to her!" he choked.

"Don't play innocent. I know the two of you were in a relationship. Now she's become… this. What. Did. You. Do?"

Solana hadn't looked good. Aside from being quite obviously drunk, there had been hay in her hair, and she was thinner, so thin as to appear gaunt. It had shocked him too.

He pushed Leliana away, gambling that she wouldn't really slit his throat. "I didn't do anything."

She stumbled backwards, baring the knife in front of her. "If I find you mistreated her…"

He buried his head in his hands. He didn't have the strength for this. His head was killing him. And his heart… his heart… "You should know me better than that."

"Sometimes the most disgusting monsters hide behind pretty smiles."

She was still baring the knife. Sweet Andraste. "I love her," he declared. "I would rather throw myself on my own blade than see her like this."

That gave Leliana pause. She knew he wasn't prone to dramatics. She blinked at him and lowered the knife. "What's going on?"

"She's sick."

"I can see that."

"She's dying."

Leliana didn't move. "Explain."

He raked a hand through his hair. "It's some Warden thing. A curse. Incurable. She knew she was dying when she arrived in Haven. She kept it from us because there is no way we can help her."

Leliana spun from him, groaning. "That's what she meant. That night in your quarters. She tried to tell me. Idiot."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Apparently they're forbidden from speaking of it."

"No, I meant you."

"Me?"

Leliana was pacing the room, shaking her head. "She tells you she's dying and you run off and, what, try to beat her to it?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"That's beside the point."

He leaned on the table, glaring down at the map. "I know I should have handled it better."

"Damn right. And now, what? You're watching her drown her sorrows in alcohol?"

He pressed his eyes closed. No, he hadn't been watching her. He'd been lost in his own private nightmare, the days blending into each other as he struggled from one moment to the next. The first time he'd given up lyrium, the initial two weeks of torture had occurred on the ship from Kirkwall. He'd spent them locked in a cabin, wretched but secluded. Now he'd been doing his best to appear normal. He'd done everything in his power to prevent his men from seeing how his skin burned like it was being cut by a thousand razor blades whenever he was out in the sun training them. He'd spent most nights huddled in the corner of his office like a frightened child, plagued by terrors he knew were in his own mind and then he'd heaved himself to his feet to continue with the day's work as if nothing at all untoward had transpired. He'd been focused on surviving, on getting through the worst of the withdrawal quietly and with as much dignity as he could.

"She has enough to worry about without worrying about me."

"Worrying about you? You should be worrying about her. A few moments ago you were claiming to love her."

"I do love her!"

"Then man up and prove it." Leliana glared at him. "What was your plan, Cullen? Just let her whither away?"

"I didn't have a plan. I don't have a plan. It's incurable."

"Oh, I'm not talking about curing her. I'm talking about helping her through this. If I had known. If she had told me." Leliana spun away again, growling her frustration into the room. "But she didn't confide in me. She didn't confide in anyone. She confided in you. And you abandoned her."

"I didn't abandon her!"

Yes, he realised. Yes he had. He'd had good reason. It had seemed like a good reason at the time. He heaved in air.

"That night, before she went to you, I struck her."

Leliana turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "Purposefully?"

"Of course not. But I couldn't risk losing control again. I have to give up lyrium. But I don't know what will happen, what I'll become in the process. Risking my own life is one thing. But having her rely on me while I –"

"Coward."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a coward. You can't bear the thought of losing her, so you'd rather pretend you're keeping her at an arm's length to protect her. You're pathetic."

Leliana drove the knife down into the table and left the room, letting the door slam closed behind her.

Cullen focused on the map. He read the names of the rivers Solana would be crossing and the towns she'd be passing through on her journey, but between the way he was shaking and the way the letters kept blurring together, it was an exercise in futility.

Chapter Text

Solana was packing the last supplies into her saddle bags as the grey light of dawn crept over Skyhold.

"Awake bright and early." Celeste approached, carrying a cup of tea. "Here I thought I'd have to drench you in cold water."

"Again?"

Celeste cringed, passing Solana the cup. She accepted it gratefully. Skyhold was cold even in the middle of the day. At this time of the morning, her breath came in clouds of steam and her cheeks were numb. The cup was warm and comforting, even if the smell of whatever concoction Celeste had given her turned her stomach.

"Hangover cure?"

Celeste nodded.

"Thanks."

Solana held her nose and downed it. Sweet Andraste, it was vile.

"Did Commander Cullen find you?"

She choked on the tea. Coughing, spluttering, struggling to get in air she asked, "Cullen?"

"He came looking for you in the kitchens. I suggested he check the stables."

"I slept in my tent last night."

"I don't know which part of that sentence is more surprising."

Solana had taken a sleeping draught to ensure a good night's rest. It hadn't prevented the nightmares, but she was certainly feeling more sober than she had in days. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. She wiped her mouth and coughed again. Why would Cullen come looking for her? She hadn't spoken to him alone since… since he'd made up his mind not to be with her.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

Celeste shook her head. "He seemed quite distressed."

"Probably wanted to warn me off going again."

"Good morning!" Trevelyan came around the other side of the barn, smiling broader than anyone had a right to smile at this hour. "Ready to venture forth?"

"Nearly!" Solana called to him. She hoped some of his enthusiasm wore off over the next weeks or she might not make it as far as the Deep Roads.

"It's nice that he cares," Celeste said softly, returning to their previous topic.

"I thought that you weren't fond of him?"

"I'm not. On principle, you understand. But as far as Templars go, I suppose he's not too bad."

"That means you'll do as I asked?"

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Only because I owe you my life."

"Thank you."

Solana heard Trevelyan making more energetic greetings and peered around her horse to see Varric and Hawke caught up in his conversation. Hawke spotted her and waved.

"I'd better join them," she said to Celeste.

The mage gave her a hug. "Good luck. I hope you manage to… you know."

"Not die?"

"That too." She offered a shaky smile. "You will come back, won't you?"

"It depends on whether Max is going to make me attend that blighted ball."

"I'm serious."

Solana sighed. "I don't know. If I can stop the Wardens, I may be needed there."

"They could join the Inquisition."

"They don't do allegiance."

What was unsaid was what would happen if she couldn't stop them. She didn't know.

Celeste gave her another hug. "Take care, okay? No heroics."

"It is in my title."

"I mean it, Solana. No tearing off trying to kill archdemons or single-handedly end the apocalypse. I won't be there to protect you this time."

She laughed. "I'll try." Trevelyan called her name. "I've got to go."

As the small party rode through the gates, Hawke asked, "Did Commander Cullen find you last night?"

"No."

"Hah!" Varric shook his head. "Poor man, I don't think he'd ever been in the Rest before."

"I did offer to buy him a drink," Hawke said. "I figured I owed him one."

Varric leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think Dorian put him off. No one should ever see that sober,"

"Sounds like I missed quite the night." Solana forced a laugh.

She didn't see the figure on the battlements, half obscured by shadow, quietly watching her go.

The moon was high by the time Cullen returned to his office for the night. He'd kept busy intentionally, trying to take his mind off everything that Leliana had said.

She was completely right, of course.

He'd been a selfish coward about the whole thing, and now Solana was gone. He'd been angry. Angry at fate for finally bringing them together only to part them so soon. Angry at her for knowing of his inevitable heartbreak and failing to warn him. Angry at himself for being weak, for falling apart instead of being strong for her.

He'd been too angry and broken to even talk to her. He should have checked on her.

In his search for her the night before, he had discovered just how far she'd fallen since they'd arrived at Skyhold. She'd become a regular at the Herald's Rest tavern. Everyone he asked there had pointed him towards her customary stool – which had been left vacant because it was just that inevitable that she would eventually arrive. When he'd gone to Celeste, because he knew they were friends, he'd been horrified to learn that Solana had been sleeping in the barn, up in the hay loft.

Although she hadn't been there last night.

So where had she slept?

Had she slept alone?

He had no right to ask those questions, or even think them. It was none of his business anymore. He'd chosen that. And besides, shouldn't he be happy for her? If someone else was giving her the comfort that he had failed to, shouldn't he be relieved?

Perhaps he should be, but he wasn't. The very idea drew bile to his throat.

He'd eventually approached Leliana, even though she was precisely the last person he'd wanted to see. Leliana hadn't known where he might find her either. She'd suggested she might be out in the woods. Her agents had seen Solana wandering among the trees behind Skyhold a number of times. Perhaps she'd decided to take a walk?

He'd gone to look. He'd been set upon by wolves, which had made it a much bloodier endeavour than he'd expected. He'd been terrified that she had encountered the same, that she was somewhere in the trees, hurt and bleeding.

Eventually, after stumbling around until near dawn, he'd gone back to Skyhold.

And there she'd been, alone in front of the barn, tending to her horse and packing her supplies. Even so pale and sickly, he'd been taken by her. His breath had left him, relief and nerves tangling in his chest. He'd realised he hadn't thought as far as what he'd say to her if he did find her.

Then Celeste had approached and he had lost his nerve.

Leliana was right. He was a coward. He should have at least seen her off.

But what right did he have to demand her attention when he'd been so negligent? Let her real friends comfort her. Let her laugh with them instead.

So he'd watched her go and then he'd given his men the most intense day of training they'd ever had. They'd hate him for it. He didn't care.

Now he entered his office, closing the heavy door behind him with finality, already removing his surcout. He was grateful he no longer kept lyrium on hand, because days like this he questioned whether it really was worth it. What did his ideals matter if all they brought was pain?

He lit the lamp and… there was something on his desk.

It was a small basket. The kind that children used for collecting flowers. He approached it cautiously. Anything unexpected sitting on his desk deserved caution.

Whatever was inside it was wrapped in a handkerchief.

Curious.

He withdrew his sword and prodded at it. It didn't move, or combust.

Gingerly, he unwrapped it.

Blackberries.

Full and juicy and ripe. He smiled despite himself, warm memories rushing at him.

Who would do this?

He sank into his chair. The only person who knew his fondness for them was… well it was impossible that it was her, she was gone.

He thought he knew. Cole. It had to be Cole. Cole had a knack for giving people exactly what they needed when they needed it. A thoughtful gesture. He should remember to thank the boy.

His hand hovered over the basket.

They could be poisoned…

It was worth the risk.

Chapter Text

Sand was in everything.

Every. Thing.

Every time Solana moved, sand scraped somewhere. And it was usually somewhere most inconvenient.

She was hot, and tired, and the Calling was so loud it was all she could do not to scream. But they had seen the old ritual tower on the horizon, finally, so they were galloping towards it. It looked something like the bottom of a dragon's maw, all teeth and red stone. A more foreboding structure, Solana couldn't imagine.

She buried her head against her horse's neck and tried to hold on to the contents of her stomach.

She hadn't had any alcohol since they'd set out weeks before – there hadn't been time - but it didn't seem to make a difference. The Calling was its own hangover. And the rotten egg stench of the nearby sulphur pits did not help in the least.

Trevelyan called for a halt and she pulled up the reins. He was already dismounting, hurrying forward into the sand. Oh Maker, did he never run out of energy?

Solana re-arranged her headscarf and slipped down from her own steed. Varric passed her a canteen. She wished it had something stronger than water in it, but warm water was better than nothing at all. Her throat was parched.

The ruin looked less intimidating up close. The entrance was no more than a chipped stone archway.

"I fear they've already started the ritual," Max said, gazing inward. "I hope we can stop them before more people get hurt."

Solana could see a long flight of stairs through the arch and, above it, some kind of green dust swirling. It wouldn't have been out of place in this horrid desert, but for the colour.

"Take point," said Hawke. "I'll guard your backs."

Solana wiped her sweating forehead with her sleeve and trudged after the Inquisitor. "What's the plan?"

"We stop them," Hawke provided.

"If I thought reasoning with them was going to work, I would hardly have run around Thedas looking for help."

"Who said anything about reasoning with them?"

She hoped he was joking.

"They're bound to change their minds when they realise they're being manipulated," Max said. His hand on his sword belied his confident words.

The only way to get further into the ruin was a bridge over the abyss Cullen had described. As Solana followed the men along the sun-bleached stone, she felt the pull of it.

What had Cullen said?

Straight to the Deep Roads.

She knew it without even looking over the edge. She could feel it tugging at her. She could feel the darkspawn far below.

The wind whined past them, echoing the call that reverberated in her mind.

The ruins themselves were eerily quiet. Were they too late? They were halfway up the vast flight of stairs when they heard voices, snatches of an argument on the wind.

"-wait."

"…Orders were clear."

"…this is wrong…"

Max dashed forward, armour clanging. She hurried afterwards, stumbling to a halt at the top of the stairs.

There weren't many Wardens, a handful perhaps. But they all already had demons standing passively beside them. All except the two currently circling each other in front of her. The one was hooded and had his hands raised, as if pleading mercy. The other… the other was Falin, brandishing a knife. His hair was hanging dank and loose, he was scowling.

On a platform slightly above them stood the strange man she'd seen with Clarel, the one who'd said they needed mages. Now, in the sunlight, she could see from his clothes he was Tevinter.

"Remember your oath," he said. "In war, victory. In peace vigilance…"

He had the hooded man's attention, and while he was distracted, Falin moved up behind him.

"In death…" the man said.

"No!" Solana rushed forward, but it was too late. Falin thrust the knife in between the man's ribs and blood gushed forth. A rift opened between them and Solana.

"Sacrifice." The Tevinter grinned as if he hadn't been interrupted.

From the rift, summoned by the blood, came a demon, roaring its displeasure.

"Good. Now bind it just as I showed you," the Tevinter said, still speaking as if there had been no intrusion.

"Falin! No! Wait!" Solana called.

But either he didn't hear her, or he was ignoring her. Where was Cassey? Where were the others? She scanned the area and her eyes fell on the pile of bodies.

Blood sacrifices. She wanted to be sick. Elite warriors, turned to nothing but reagents.

Cassey wasn't among the Wardens. Was she one of the bodies?

No, they wouldn't kill a mage. They needed mages.

Unless she'd refused to perform this disgusting ritual?

Or her will had failed her, and she'd gone to the Deep Roads.

Or… or she hadn't made it through the Joining.

I should have warned her. I should never have let them become Wardens.

Solana didn't see what Falin did, but the demon fell silent and the rift blinked away.

The Tevinter smiled at Solana now, as if noticing her for the first time. He waved a greeting.

"The Hero, the Champion and the Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure." He gave an exaggerated bow. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium at your service."

Solana forced her legs to move her forward. She ignored Livius, addressing the man who had once been her friend. "Falin! What have you done, why are you doing this?"

He stared at her blankly. His eyes glowed red.

And then she knew, she knew exactly what was happening. The sick churning in her guts was the only thing that stopped her from launching herself at Livius's face.

"Wardens, this man is lying to you!" Max yelled from just behind her.

Livius laughed. "Wardens, hands up."

As one, the Warden mages obeyed.

"Hands down."

Again, they followed his command.

Of course, why would Corypheus make the Wardens destroy themselves when he could have such prize fighters on his side, leading his demon army? Leading his… oh, Maker. It wasn't their magic he wanted. They weren't just mages, they were mages with Grey Warden secrets.

"The Calling had them terrified." Livius said. "They looked everywhere for help"

"The Calling?" Max looked to her. She should have said something. She hadn't thought it important but it had been the essential part. If she had only told them at the start of it all, maybe the Inquisition would have figured out the connection sooner. Maybe they could have stopped this.

"And since it was my master who put The Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared," Livius continued. "Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves."

Solana looked at Falin, heart pounding so hard in her chest that it was drowning out everything Livius was saying. This kind of mind control, this kind of magic… there was only one way this could end.

"Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas," Livius said.

The rest. So this wasn't all of them…

Cassey could still be alive.

Without warning, Max rushed forward, brandishing his family sword. Livius lifted his arm. Red chased across his skin and then Max was on his knees, howling in agony, clutching his cursed hand.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you."

"And what about me?" Solana raised her staff.

It had been a long time since she'd needed to draw on all of her power. But her body still remembered. It remembered how to tap into pain and fear, to transform her raw emotions into energy. Primal magic sparked up from her chest, along her arms and into the staff. It glowed blindingly white and then Livius, the Warden mages, the demons, everything erupted in a column of flame. It scalded her face and frizzed her hair. Her allies scattered. Max curled in on himself, hiding his head.

It swirled around them, a roaring inferno, punctuated by screams.

"Kill them!" Livius screeched.

Wardens and demons came at her. Their magic glanced off her hastily-cast barrier. She froze one of the rage demons with a blast of ice, dodged a bolt of lightning from one of the Warden mages. But she was caught on the defense, and casting the inferno had almost drained her. They drove her backwards, back towards the precipice, back towards the Deep Roads.

And then Max and Hawke were at her side; Hawke casting, Max slashing. A rain of Varric's arrows came down a few feet from her. Metal hit metal, opposing spells collided in midair. It was a symphony of smashing weapons and exploding magic, and then nothing but ringing silence. The bodies of the Warden mages joined the bodies of their comrades. There was no sign of Livius.

Solana wasn't sure who'd killed Falin. His face was burned and he stared up at her glass-eyed. It could have been any one of them. She fell to her knees at his side, panting, unable to hold herself upright anymore. She couldn't seem to get in enough air. She couldn't cry either. Weren't people supposed to cry when something like this happened? Instead, all she could do was stare.

"I'm sorry," Max said, sheathing his sword. "I'm assuming he was your friend?"

She swallowed. "Yes. We… we only knew each other for a few weeks. But he was a good man."

She remembered how determined he'd been to help the Tranquil. Is that why he'd done this? Had that been the price of his devotion?

Max's heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She knew he was trying to comfort her, but somehow it didn't help.

"Do you think you can… leave me alone for a moment. I just need a minute."

"Absolutely. We'll wait on the bridge."

It was slightly easier to breathe when they were gone. She slipped a ring off one of Falin's fingers.

Solana stood at the top of the jagged parapet, looking down, down, down. She'd intended to head back to join the others, but the abyss had pulled at her like vertigo. It was a twisted scar in the face of the earth. A long, black yawning chasm. There was no end to it. It just kept going. Straight to the Deep Roads and maybe through the very world.

They were moving down there like ants in an ant hill. She had the oil-slick feeling of them crawling across her skin. She knew their need, their longing, as they dug, dug, dug for that which every sane part of her hoped they'd never find. But she wasn't all sane anymore. There was a part of her that wanted to join them, that called for the same thing.

If the Chantry was right about Max, perhaps it was right about her curse too. A curse from the Maker himself. Perhaps she was fooling herself believing that she had any choice at all? What mortal could rally against the will of the Maker?

She heard someone approach, but didn't turn to look at them. She knew it was Hawke. Max clattered everywhere he went and Varric's swagger was unmistakable.

"It's not your fault," he said at length. "You know that, right?"

The wind was whipping up the sand across the chasm. It glittered in the afternoon light, ethereal.

"I took them to the Wardens. Did I tell you that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "They were on the run from the Templars. They were trying to protect their Circle's Tranquil. I thought the Wardens could help them." She closed her eyes. "I should have taken them with me when I ran."

"If I know the Wardens, it's a small miracle you got away at all. Getting my brother out when all this started was an operation in and of itself."

"If I'd found help sooner… I should have tried harder." She shouldn't have accepted that the Inquisition wanted to close the Breach first. She should have told them about The Calling. Now she knew the Corypheus connection, it seemed like she should have guessed his plans from the start.

"It's not your fault." Hawke repeated. She heard him move closer. Perhaps he was trying to get close enough to grab her should she decide to jump. "People like us, people who have so much power… we often feel like we have power over everything. But that's not the case. Some things you can't stop."

"Like a mage uprising?"

He snorted. "We're not talking about me."

With a sigh she stepped back. "I need a drink."

"I hear there's an old raider bar not far from here." Varric called to her from where he stood a few metres away. Max was with him.

"How far is 'not far'?" she asked.

"About half a day."

She groaned. Hawke wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"By the way," she said, as he led her back along the bridge. "If I'd wanted to jump, you couldn't have stopped me."

"Uh huh."

"You do know that I defeated an archdemon once?"

"Pff." He rolled his eyes. "I fought a Qun Arishok."

"So?"

"I had to get through about 20 of his men first."

Varric laughed at her expression.

"I'm starting to feel a little inadequate here," Max commented.

Varric patted him on the back. "Come along, Inquisitor. We might even let you sit at the grownups' table."

Chapter Text

The mystery of the blackberries was exceedingly curious. If it had been but that one basket, it would have been intriguing enough.

But this was the fourth.

Cullen had been receiving one a week, roughly. Although never on the same day of the week and never at the same time of day.

After the first basket, he had sought Cole to thank him. Cole had stared at him with those big blue eyes and denied it.

Cullen had put it down to fear of consequences. The Inquisitor had given the boy a long lecture only recently about wasting resources in the course of performing his good deeds. After the second basket, Cullen had returned to Cole. And again, he had said, "Not I, Commander."

"I like to help," he'd added. "But this is not my doing."

After the third basket, Cullen had resorted to asking Leliana if she had any idea how someone might be sneaking into his office to deposit baskets of berries without any of his men seeing them.

"It seems you have a secret admirer, Commander," she'd said.

"If you know who it is, pray tell me." He'd scratched the back of his neck and then immediately regretted it because he knew that she'd read into that. She would enjoy his discomfort.

Her answering smile indicated he was correct. She'd risen languidly to her feet, paging absently through one of her reports. "I can have my agents keep watch on your office."

"Yes." That would most certainly work.

"On condition." His heart sank to his boots. Her eyes didn't leave her papers.

"What?"

"The Grande Ball."

"No."

"Come now, Commander. If there truly is an assassin lurking within the court, surely you want to be there?"

He couldn't recall exactly what he'd said to her. His brain had immediately gone into meltdown.

He'd attended a similar event in Kirkwall. Something the Viscount had hosted. Cullen had wanted to go in his Templar garb, but Meredith had insisted that he wear some uncomfortable formal getup. He'd felt like a peacock. But the outfit wasn't what he'd hated most. It was the… attention.

"Well, I suppose we'll never know who your admirer is, then."

He'd sighed and told her plainly that he didn't much care in any case. An obvious lie. He desperately wanted to know, but only so he could dissuade whoever it was. He even had a speech prepared. Something along the lines of let's just be friends.

He'd ended up agreeing to go to the blighted Ball as one of the Inquisition representatives.

He could imagine Josephine completely losing all self-control and whooping for joy. She'd been trying, and failing, to convince him for weeks. She'd managed to secure them a number of invitations. From the would-be usurper, Gaspard, no less.

Cullen's only comfort was that he wouldn't be the only one attending under duress. One of the invitations had been addressed to Solana by name. Josephine had strongly implied that the Hero of Ferelden's attendance was a necessity of their agreement with the duke.

That was, if she returned at all.

Enough of that.

He picked up the latest basket and strode back out of his office.

Up in Leliana's tower, he waved it at her. "So, who is it?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry, Commander?"

"It's another one. Another basket." He set it on her desk.

"I can see that."

"You said you'd find out who was leaving them."

"And I will." She returned her attention to her paperwork.

"When?"

"These things take time."

"You're not even investigating."

She signed a paper with a flourish. "I am. But, unlike yours, my work requires subtlety. I do have some good news for you, however."

He was hoping she'd say that the ball had been cancelled, or that someone else more important needed the invitation that had been earmarked for him.

"We received word a few minutes ago. The Inquisitor should be back by nightfall."

He swallowed. "The Inquisitor?"

She glanced up at him but said nothing.

"You're really going to make me ask?"

"I am."

He closed his eyes. "Is she safe?"

"Who?"

"Maker, Leliana. Who do you think I – Solana, the Hero. Is she with him? Is she safe?"

Leliana smiled, retrieved a paper from near her elbow and passed it to him.

It was scrawled in Solana's untidy hand. He was surprised he recognised it after so many years. It said to prepare the War Council, they had much to discuss.

"Sent from an inn a few hours from here."

A wild ensemble of emotions rushed him all at once, like a discordant concerto. Relief she was alive, excitement that he'd see her again soon, dread that he'd see her again soon, fear that she was still in as much pain as when he'd last seen her. He felt ill.

"Thank you," he said to Leliana.

He turned to leave, still clutching the note, but she called after him. "Commander, don't forget your berries."

It said a lot that Solana, Hawke and Trevelyan hadn't even visited their quarters to wash before calling the meeting.

Solana was already pacing at the far end of the room when Cullen entered. She stopped when she saw him, eyes flicking away from his, down to her feet. She was dressed in riding gear with a streak of dirt across her cheek. Her hair was mostly hidden under a scarf, but the tendrils that escaped were hopelessly tangled. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, where her skin must have been exposed while riding. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He paused in the doorway, overcome. She was alive, she was back.

He opened his mouth to greet her, no sound came out. Leliana cleared her throat behind him and he moved to his place at the table, stealing glances at Solana.

"You received my letter?" she asked Leliana.

"Yes, but it was short on the details."

She didn't mean the note she'd sent from the inn. He'd seen the letter too, weeks ago. It had said simply "Corypheus summoning army of demons. Will explain later. Prepare forces to march on Adamant."

Solana was fidgety. She untied the scarf from her head and attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers. It was cleaner than the rest of her, having been protected from the dust of the road, but it frizzed when she pulled at it until her face was surrounded by a large, orange, mane.

"There was something that I didn't tell you all when I first spoke of the Warden plans. I regret that now. At the time I didn't feel it relevant. Understand, the Grey Wardens value secrecy. Even I was not told until I had already undergone the ritual."

"What ritual?" Cassandra wanted to know.

Solana's eyes locked on hers. "The Joining. The ritual that makes one a Warden." Then she looked away, at the window behind Cullen. "People think Wardens immune to the Blight but that's not quite true. We are merely resistant. It takes about 30 years for the sickness to take hold and when it starts, when our bodies begin to give in, an ancient curse triggers in our blood. It calls us to the Deep Roads, to end our lives fighting darkspawn, to give our deaths meaning. It starts like a gentle hum at first, but the longer you ignore it, the louder and more painful it becomes. The reason I returned to Ferelden was not because of the Breach – as I'm sure you all suspected was the case. I started hearing this Calling prematurely. What I should have told you is that all the Grey Wardens started hearing it at the same time. I thought it would be enough for you to know that they intended to invade the Deep Roads using an army summoned by blood magic. I didn't think the reason they'd decided on this course was relevant. I apologise."

She looked down at her hands, now fiddling with the clasp on her riding coat. She had clearly prepared this speech, but that was making delivering it no easier. Cullen appreciated that she didn't bring up the little that she'd confided to him.

"So you're saying that the Wardens are dying out?" Cassandra asked. "If that happens, who will remain to slay the archdemon should another Blight come?"

"Precisely." Solana's mouth curved in an almost smile. "Hence the assault on the Deep Roads. Only the Wardens know where the Old Gods sleep."

"They have that knowledge?" This was news to Cullen.

"Not all. Not me. But enough. Only the Wardens know where the Old Gods sleep and only they are able to kill them. When they believed they were dying, Warden Commander Clarel thought the only logical course of action would be to kill the Old Gods now, while there are still Wardens to do so. And the only way to get through the Deep Roads to reach them would be with a significant army. Unfortunately for her, the armies of the South were already at war, so she devised another plan. What I was unaware of when she told me this, was that she was consorting with the Venatori. We encountered her Venatori friend in the Western Approach and he confirmed that Corypheus is responsible for triggering The Calling. When Hawke first mentioned his suspicions to me, I thought Corypheus meant to use this Calling to make the Wardens essentially commit suicide. He is darkspawn, after all. Which would make them a great threat to him. I thought Clarel's blood magic plot unrelated. But the truth we discovered is much worse."

She glanced at Trevelyen, who'd been quietly watching. He nodded for her to continue. "It was his intention all along to drive the Wardens to this desperate solution. The binding ritual used to bind the demons also bound the mages to Corypheus's will. He is building an army of both demons and mages."

"And he plans to use the bound Wardens to find and wake the Old Gods?" Cullen guessed.

She looked to him. Their eyes met for the first time since she'd returned and the breath left his lungs.

"Yes, I imagine that's his plan. He seems to think he can control the Blight."

And then her eyes dropped back to her fidgeting fingers. "Again, I apologise. I fear we may be too late now. If I had disclosed what I knew earlier we may have stood more of a chance."

"That's unfair," Trevelyan said. He'd remained completely silent during her speech. Perhaps they had agreed to this beforehand. "We could have investigated sooner."

Cullen spoke quietly, "There was no way you could have known that what you were going through was part of Corypheus's plot." He hadn't guessed as much and he doubted the others would have, even if she had told them.

She gave him a faint smile.

Trevelyan addressed the Council. "Fortunately, the ritual we interrupted was an experiment, a test if you will. After our encounter, Scout Harding tracked this Venatori to an abandoned Warden fortress called Adamant. I believe Solana mentioned it in her note?"

Cullen nodded. "The fortress dates back to the Second Blight. It's withstood countless darkspawn attacks, but on the other hand, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls and thanks to our Lady Ambassador…"

He indicated for Josephine to speak. She grinned. "Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They've already delivered the trebuchets."

"That's good," Solana said, letting out a breath. "Very good. When can we march?"

"Well we-" Cullen started.

Josephine interrupted. "There is another matter we must attend to."

Cullen could see this agitated Solana. Time was of the essence. She scratched around her neck. "If you tell me it's that ball…"

He stepped in. "Our army will only be ready in just over a week. I've had every blacksmith from here to Redcliff commissioned to outfit our men, and we're almost there. But we still need a little time."

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Solana said without looking at him. His stomach twisted.

Josephine sighed. "When the Inquisitor was displaced in time, he discovered that two key events had taken place to bring about the future he saw, the future we wish to avoid. One of those things was the demon army marching across Thedas. But the other, the one that came first, was the assassination of Empress Celene. The Grande Ball would provide the perfect opportunity for such a strike against her. I have secured us invitations. We should attend."

Solana scrubbed her face with her hands, but offered no comment.

"I agree," Trevelyan said. "It will only delay us by a matter of days and if the future I saw is anything to go by, it is an essential turning point."

"A matter of days might be all between us and the next Blight," Solana objected.

"I understand your anxiety, Solana. Honestly, I do. But I'm afraid I agree with Josephine. We need to try prevent both events from occurring. We can make up the time on the road if necessary."

Cullen could tell that Solana was not comforted by this. He half expected her to continue arguing, but she shook her head, defeated.

When no one else had anything to add, Trevelyan dismissed them.

Hawke, who'd been lurking by the door, stepped forward to put an arm around Solana's shoulders.

Cullen's heart gave a jolt. No, surely not?

It took Cullen a full head-spinning moment before he remembered that Hawke didn't go for women, and that he had a dedicated (homicidal) partner stashed away somewhere.

You have no right, Cullen lectured himself as he left the room. What she does with her affections is none of your concern.

But that didn't make it any less painful to imagine.

The next morning's training took on a sense of urgency when Cullen told his men how soon they'd be marching out. It was difficult watching them, knowing that not all of them would survive Adamant.

He was perhaps a little sharper with them than he intended to be, but some of these soldiers were yet to be tested in battle. They didn't know, as he did, that one momentary lapse in concentration was all that stood between them and death. Many of them would learn the hard way.

When he finally dismissed them, he felt exhausted. He told himself that they knew the risks, that they wouldn't have signed up if they hadn't been prepared to pay the ultimate price – but that somehow didn't make it any easier. He trudged back to his room, running through the list of things he had to do before he could allow himself a few minutes quiet. Perhaps Dorian would be open to a game of chess later? Perhaps that could lift his spirits?

He paused with his hand on his office door, sensing rather than hearing something amiss. His hand moved automatically to his weapon as he listened closely.

Someone was… there was someone in his office.

He slammed the door open, drawing his sword.

Solana jumped away from his desk.

He froze, blinking at her stupidly. She was wearing deep green robes, her face was clean and her hair was tied up neatly. She looked more like her Circle self than the women he'd recently come to know.

On the desk sat a small basket.

He moved into the room, sheathing his weapon. "I don't… I don't know who's leaving those. Or what they mean. Leliana is meant to be…"

He trailed off. She'd flushed. She was looking everywhere but at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked slowly.

She bit her lower lip and his heart skittered. Her gaze travelled to the basket again. "Any theories?"

"What?"

Her eyes darted to his and then away. She cleared her throat. "Do you have any suspicions as to who's bringing you the berries?"

A jolt ran through his body. Something fluttered in his stomach. He looked at the basket to make sure. The contents were still neatly wrapped up. "I didn't say anything about berries."

Solana swore under her breath.

He stepped closer to her. "I didn't. Have any theories, that is."

Her eyes finally met his. "But I'm supposing you do now?"

"I'm beginning to develop one, yes. But… how? And why?"

"Well, the why should be obvious." She looked at her feet again and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm not as adept at this as Celeste. Stealth was never my strong suit."

"Celeste…that's how you… while you weren't here."

She nodded, still not looking at him. "Fiona taught her a spell that makes her unnoticeable. I tried it, but I suppose it failed."

"I don't think any spell could prevent me from noticing you." He said, without thinking. Now it was him that couldn't meet her eyes. "Why?"

"Is that really a question?"

"I'm asking it, so yes."

She paced away from him. "You remember that first day you walked me back to my cottage, after we trained the mages?"

"Of course, I do" How could he forget?

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said a lot of things."

"That's true." She scratched her head. "We were talking about me splashing you in the face."

He swallowed. "You said… you said you wanted to make me smile."

She nodded. He expected her to continue, but she didn't.

"That's your answer? That's why… this subterfuge?"

"Did it work?"

It had but… "There has to be more to it than that." She wouldn't have even seen the results of her efforts.

She remained silent for a time, staring at the floor. He waited, watching her face, the pinkness in her cheeks, the way the light caught her hair.

Eventually she said softly, "I wanted to be here for you, when I couldn't… be here for you."

"Be here for me?" But that wasn't right… how could she think that when he had been so negligent? She was the one who needed him, not the other way around. He'd failed her. He didn't deserve this.

She spoke quickly, as if pausing would prevent her getting the words out. "I knew that my leaving the way I did would put you under extra strain. With everything you were going through… and then me, and the Deep Roads and… well I wanted to give you a distraction. I thought of that day, how delighted you were when you saw the blackberries, how you said they brought back good memories. I thought the mystery would intrigue you and that maybe the gift itself would make you smile… at least once. It was probably a stupid idea. I… my head's a mess. I'm not sure how sober I was when I -"

He crossed the room in three strides. He was going to reach for her, pull her into a kiss. At the very last moment he stopped.

Like with the lyrium, one dose would push him over into madness again. She startled. The look on her face confirmed that she knew exactly what he'd intended.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. What he meant was that he couldn't remember a single time anyone had ever done anything nearly as thoughtful for him. What he meant was that his chest was full of warmth and joy like it hadn't been in weeks. What he meant was I love you.

Her mouth flickered towards a hesitant smile.

He cleared his throat and moved away from her. "Can I offer you some tea or something? I'm afraid I don't have anything stronger on hand."

"No," she said. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

Because they both knew it wouldn't just be tea.

"How's your…" she trailed off. "How's it going?"

She meant the lyrium. "Fine. Good." He cleared his throat again. "And you? How's your…?"

"Been better. But I'm still here. For now, at least."

The last words felt like ice running through his veins.

"Solana… I…"

"It's okay."

"No, it really isn't. It's not fair that this should happen to you. After you… you saved us all." And he knew she'd take his meaning. She had saved him in a very real sense before she'd even built her army to fight the Blight. He swallowed again. "I will endeavour to be a better friend to you. In the time we have. I haven't done anything to deserve the kindness you have shown me, but I'd like for that to change."

When she didn't speak, he risked looking at her again. She smiled. "I don't suppose you can get me out of attending this ball?"

A bark of laughter escaped his throat. "No. I'm afraid we're both equally ensnared."

He didn't mention that her gifts had been indirectly responsible for that fact. He was too grateful for them.

Chapter Text

The Winter Palace glittered like a mound of treasure as the Inquisition carriages rolled over the hills towards it. Solana's knuckles were white but otherwise Cullen thought she was remarkably composed.

It had been a pleasant trip, as far as this kind of journey went.

"It would not do for the Inquisition to be seen sleeping rough," Josephine had said.

So she'd drawn up an itinerary and negotiated accommodation for them the likes of which Cullen had never imagined. The first night they had slept in a well-to do hostelry. They'd stayed up until the early hours playing several games of Wicked Grace while Josephine and Leliana shared stories about their time in court, each one more outrageous than the last.

Solana was a useless opponent. Her face was far too expressive and Leliana teased her about it relentlessly.

The next night they'd been welcomed into the home of a Comte ally. He'd provided dinner in a great hall lined with the heads of the various beasts he'd slayed on his hunting trips. He'd entertained them with the minutia of these trips while they'd feasted on enough food to feed an entire army.

Their final night had been spent at the summer home of a noble friend of Leliana's. It was empty except for the servants and the Inquisition had the run of the place. Each of them had slept in extraordinary bed chambers larger than Trevelyan's at Skyhold with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on exquisite gardens. Cullen would be lying if he said that he hadn't fantasized about having Solana share one of those oversized rooms with him. But she had been across the hall and they hadn't so much as spoken following the evening meal.

She'd remained sober, he'd noticed, and he imagined it was on Josephine's insistence. She needed to look the part of the bright-eyed hero that the Orlesians expected.

They'd traded their horses for a carriage at that mansion and had been riding towards the palace for the better part of the day. Leliana and Josephine exchanged theories on who they might or might not see and reminded one another of old alliances and family ties – the kind of knowledge that would come in handy in the Grand Game.

Solana stared out the window, her thoughts her own. Cullen took the opportunity to openly admire the intricate knot of her hair, the way curls escaped in small tendrils against her smooth neck. She was seated next to Max and every so often he'd attempt to strike up conversation. She'd answer him politely, but eventually her attention would always drift back to the landscapes they rode past.

If Cullen could have said anything to ease her mind, he would have.

But he could think of nothing, so he kept quiet.

 Urgh

Solana scratched around her collar and then remembered what Josephine had said about fidgeting and dropped her hands to her sides.

So, this is what Orlesians did with their free time? They dressed up in various plumage and made spiteful conversation while smiling at each other from behind shining masks. It made her feel nauseous. Or perhaps that was just the food.

Snails.

Maker, who had thought that a good idea?

She tucked her hands behinds her back where she could wring them without anyone seeing.

Josephine had positioned her near the entrance of the room, where she'd be in plain sight of everyone. Whatever the ambassador's plan, it had worked. Nobles kept approaching her to ask if she was really the Hero of Ferelden, if she'd really brought down an archdemon, and what she thought of Max. It seemed there was some gossip about the two of them being intimate, which she was quick to dismiss. She wasn't sure whether her response made the nobles less or more convinced of the affair.

And everything itched.

She supposed that she should be grateful that Josephine hadn't made her wear one of those giant dresses. Their construction seemed more intricate than that of a Tevinter puzzle box and she couldn't imagine how the women got in and out of them. With the help of numerous servants, most probably.

But the Inquisition tunics were neither comfortable nor flattering. Especially since they were red and clashed with her hair something awful.

She glanced at Cullen, across the room. He was surrounded by a gaggle of women who were staring at him admiringly. Each one, a painted doll who could keep him in a life of luxury for the rest of his days.

"Stop grinding your teeth," Josephine admonished. She waved at a passing couple.

Solana unclenched her jaw and took a deep breath.

Then she saw her.

The only person outside of the Inquisition who'd chosen to forgo a mask. Ice hit Solana's core and slowly flooded through her. Morrigan.

The Witch of the Wilds was adorned in jewels, wearing a dress of a rich red velvet and stiff leather. But everything else about her was exactly the same. It seemed she hadn't aged at all since that night when she'd asked for Alistair's seed.

Solana stood frozen, stomach churning. Why here, why now?

"Is something the matter?" Josephine asked.

As if sensing the attention, Morrigan turned to Solana. She smiled.

"Excuse me." Solana swept past the ambassador, making for the exit.

Solana found Leliana just outside the ballroom, quietly observing the nobles as they arrived.

"Morrigan's here," she said, with all of the subtlety she'd shown in her games of Wicked Grace.

"I know." The spymaster said.

"What is she doing here?"

"From what I understand, she lives here."

Solana blinked at her. The Morrigan she'd known had found a village inn too much "society" for her. "She lives here?" she repeated.

Leliana took her elbow and guided her to a quiet alcove where they didn't risk being overheard. "It seems she's endeared herself to the Empress. She's acquired the moniker 'arcane adviser'. Celene is fascinated by matters of the arcane and in recent times Morrigan is never far from her side."

"You knew this." Solana accused. "You knew this before we even arranged to come here. Why didn't you – you could have told me."

"If I'd told you, would you have still agreed to attend?"

Solana wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the floor, trying to find her focus. Extreme emotion made the humming at the back of her mind so much worse.

Leliana touched her arm gently. "You never did tell me what happened between the two of you. Your relationship was animus at best but when she suddenly left, I always sensed that something had happened."

"Yes, something did happen." But she'd been unable to tell Leliana, unable to confess that she'd chosen for one of them to die.

In those first few, terrible, months of the Blight, Alistair had been mourning the loss of his dearest friend and mentor and Leliana's words of comfort had broken through to him when nothing else could. The three of them had been green and scared. They'd huddled around the camp fire, their conversation all that kept the shadows at bay.

Later Wynne had joined them. She'd been the nurturing presence that both Alistair and Leliana had craved. And there had been others too, staunch allies and traitors alike, who'd woven in and out of their lives during the course of that dark year. But when Solana thought of her time travelling across Ferelden building an army, she always thought of sitting beside the fire with Leliana on one side and Alistair on the other.

How did she begin to tell Leliana that she was personally responsible for the loss of one of their trio?

"What do you think she's doing here?" She asked Leliana now, deflecting the spymaster's attention from the past.

Leliana didn't miss a beat. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. But when she spoke, it was to answer the question, "I'm not sure. I asked the Inquisitor to look into it, but something tells me you might have more luck."

"Me? I'm not sure I'll even talk to her." She didn't want to talk to her.

"Oh, I'm certain you will. She'll seek you out eventually. There's no lure quite as strong as unfinished business."

 Morrigan finally came to Solana while she was standing quietly eating candied nuts and watching Cullen's flock attempting to convince him to dance.

"You always were one for tall and stupid."

She jolted, almost choking on a nut. "Cullen's not stupid."

At Morrigan's musical laugh, she knew she'd said the exact wrong thing.

The witch deepened her voice. "I am big man, I hit things,"

Solana sighed and turned to give the woman her full attention. "What do you want, Morrigan?"

She arched one slender eyebrow, the other hidden beneath her dark fringe. "Hello to you too. Good to see you, my long lost friend, how have you been keeping?"

Solana rolled her eyes.

Morrigan expelled a breath. "What I want is for the empress to survive this night." She eyed Solana with that disconcerting, penetrating gaze.

"Don't tell me you've grown sentimental?"

"Hardly. If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her occult adviser," she gestured to herself. "Your Inquisitor has been exploring every dark corner of the palace... am I correct in assuming the Inquisition wants the same thing?"

"Perhaps Max is just appreciating the architecture."

Her dark red lips curved. "Most certainly, especially the garden trellis."

Solana blinked at her. "You're joking."

"Oh, I'm being quite serious. Leliana should look into giving him lessons in stealth." She smiled benignly. "I come bearing a gift."

Seemingly out of nowhere she pulled a small key. "Recently I found and killed an unwelcome guest within these walls. An agent of Tevinter. So, I offer you this. A key found on the Tevinter's body. Where it leads I cannot say, yet if Celene is in danger I cannot leave her side long enough to search."

"Why give this to me?"

"I tried giving it to your Inquisitor, but he seemed reluctant to trust me. Why, I can't imagine. You, on the other hand, should be able to convince him."

"What makes you think I trust you?"

"Have I ever given you reason not to?"

Solana held her gaze for a long moment. Then accepted the key.

 "The trellis? Really?"

Max flushed. He was sitting by the fountain, absently tossing in coins. "Who saw?"

Solana settled next to him. "The empress's occult adviser. I'm relatively certain she didn't sound the alarm."

His eyes flashed to hers and then he chuckled. "Found some interesting things in the library. I'm sure Josie will forgive me."

"Any leads?"

"On the assassin? No." He frowned. "Somehow I imagined this would be easier. The courts back home were quite different."

Solana passed him the key. He examined it before looking at her askance.

"A gift from said occult adviser."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Not entirely." She watched him flick in another coin. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Leliana said this is a local custom. I'm trying to fit in."

"It looks like you're wasting money."

"Also a local custom, I'm told. Did you know there's a shop in Orlais that has a single item for sale? It's exceedingly expensive and you're not allowed to know what it is before you purchase it. I was horrified. The salesman seemed quite shocked that I didn't want it. I'm starting to believe there's something in the water here. Maybe we should look into that. I mean after the Warden thing."

Solana laughed despite herself. Then she noticed some nearby nobles leaning close to comment and realised what it might look like, them sitting here like this.

Max turned the key over in his hand. "I've been warned to watch out for this woman. My reports say she spends far too much time with Celene. Apparently she arrived one day and charmed the court as if by magic. A pretty convenient place for an assassin to hide, at Celene's side. This could be a trap."

"It could be," Solana agreed. "But it's unlikely."

"Oh?"

"I…" she tried to find the right words. "I travelled with Morrigan. During the Blight."

"Wait, you're not saying that she's the Witch of the Wilds? The one from the stories?"

Solana nodded. "The very same."

"And you think I can trust her?"

"I wouldn't say that."

His brow creased. It reminded Solana of the look her hound gave her when he was puzzled. She'd taken him to the Denerim kennels before she'd left, to help replenish the number of mabari. She liked to think he'd lived a full and happy life, with multiple adoring lady Dogs willing to cater to his every whim. In many ways, Trevelyan was like a big puppy. Full of enthusiasm and good intention, sometimes to his detriment.

"With Morrigan, you can trust in one thing. She'll always be looking out for herself first and foremost. I assure you she has an ulterior motive, but I doubt it's to slay Celene. She's not the type to play henchman."

He offered her a smile. "If the stories are to be believed she followed you well enough."

"She followed me as long as it suited her."

Chapter Text

Solana dashed into the ballroom, still brandishing her staff. 

There was an intake of breath as every noble within earshot turned.

Max clattered in behind her.

The last hour had felt like something out of one of Leliana's stories. Spies, hidden love affairs, literal backstabbing and a masked menace to boot. Her head was reeling, but it wasn't over yet. 

Florianne was on the other side of the room, approaching Celene.

They were in time, but only just.

The next few minutes unfolded as if in slow motion, Celene starting her speech, Max pushing across the room to try save her, the flash of a knife, then swords and chaos. Throughout the hall Inquisition soldiers fell to concealed weapons.

Solana's head exploded with pain. She cast healing and she cast wide, praying that Max and the others would see to Florianne. So much blood. She fell to her knees as the spell drained her.

She wasn't good at this. Spirit magic had never been her specialty. But she wouldn't let them die.

It was so loud. Everything. The clashing of weapons, the screaming of frightened people, the Calling reverberating through her skull in response to the heightened emotion. She clenched her teeth against it, focusing on holding the spell.

It was over in minutes. The Inquisition rallied. She could hear Cullen directing his men to protect the people and only when the sound of the screaming stopped, did she dare cancel her spell. She stayed on her knees for a time, heaving in air, waiting for the black spots behind her eyes to subside. Someone hauled her to her feet. She recognised the scent of him before she recognised anything else. Cullen clutched her shoulders and spoke into her face. She could hardly make out his words above the ringing in her ears. 

"Are you hurt?!"

She shook her head. Reality blurred as she did, as if her eyes couldn't quite keep up with the movement. She shut them. "Mana."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to a seat at the edge of the room.

The next thing she was aware of was Celene standing making a speech. It was almost as if time had skipped backwards. But now Max was standing with the empress, treating the nobles to his bright smile. When Celene was done, he told them about Corypheus, he told them that they needed to unite against him. The entire room cheered.

It wavered in and out of focus. This wasn't a normal mana drain. This kind of dizziness was something new.

Was it the blight sickness?

She'd been prepared for this, hadn't she? When she'd first heard The Calling, when she'd first come down from the mountains. She'd thought she was sick. She'd thought she was dying.

So why did it terrify her so much now?

Because she'd let herself hope. After what Hawke had said, she'd let herself believe that Corypheus might have tricked her mind and not her body. But perhaps he had actually sped up the progress of the Blight sickness in the Wardens?

She stared down at her hands. It was known as the wasting sickness. She shouldn't be disappointed that she was finally wasting.

Cullen was still standing beside her, a hand on the back of her chair. He glanced down at her and she straightened, not wishing to alarm him.

"I'm going to go check on – will you be alright?"

She nodded. "Just tired. I'll wait here. Tell me when it's time to go."

He gave her a long look, then strode away. She watched him cross the ballroom. He stopped every few feet, either to check on one of his men or to be waylaid by one of his many admirers, who were now even more determined to get his attention.

The room faded away again. She jerked awake to a quieter hall. The music had dimmed, any blood had been cleaned off the tiles, and a few last couples were moving in a slow waltz on the dancefloor. It must have been very late.

"Welcome back," Cullen's voice said. He was standing beside the chair again and he smiled down at her.

"Josephine's going to kill me," Solana said, reaching automatically for her collar to straighten it. She'd stayed sober and she'd still ended up passed out in a corner.

He chuckled and unbidden desire rose in her. "Don't worry, I've been keeping watch."

"I'm surprised you're not on the dancefloor."

"I'm not much of a dancer."

Her retort died on her lips. Morrigan was moving toward them, hips swaying and a smirk on her lips. Solana groaned and Cullen glanced down at her again in concern.

It was too late to say anything, Morrigan came within earshot.

"Am I to assume by the way you are glaring at me, you have heard the news?" she said to Solana, ignoring Cullen. She was looking down her nose at her. Solana didn't like that. She rose to her feet. Her legs were still embarrassingly shaky, but she managed to resist the urge to reach out to Cullen for support. 

Once they were eye-to-eye, Morrigan said coolly, "There's no use blaming me. It was not, I assure you, my idea."

"Morrigan, Commander Cullen. Cullen, Morrigan. Morrigan, what are you talking about?"

The witch tilted her head, continuing to ignore Cullen. "So, you have not been informed?"

"Informed of what?"

The corner of Morrigan's mouth moved upwards. An incredibly familiar, self-satisfied look.

"It seems we are to be seeing a lot more of each other. By imperial decree I have been named liaison to the Inquisition."

"What does that mean?"

"I see I will need to break this into tiny little words for you."

"Morrigan?" Cullen repeated.

She finally looked at him, but with mild disinterest. "Oh, she's told you stories has she?"

Cullen's eyes darted to Solana's and whatever he found there must have served as confirmation because he glowered at the witch. "Oh, she's told me stories." He dropped his voice. "You're an apostate. A malificar-"

Solana didn't quite believe it, but his hand moved to his sword. The movement wasn't lost on Morrigan, but she seemed amused rather than frightened by it. "And now I am your malificar." The way she said the word dripped with sarcasm. She gave a small curtsy. "The empress is entrusting me to the Inquisition. I am to travel with you back to Skyhold and assist in whatever way I can."

Cullen's mouth moved but no words came out.

"What is it you really want this time?" Solana asked.

"As I told you, this was not my doing."

"Just like it was not your doing the last time?"

"It was not."

"She's a spy." Leliana had approached without making a sound. She glared unblinkingly at Morrigan. 

Cullen's upper lip curled. "Of course. Celene has seen the might of the Inquisition here tonight. She's bound to send someone to keep an eye on us."

Morrigan inclined her head to Leliana. Whether in greeting or acknowledging she was correct, Solana couldn't tell. "Regardless, none of us has much say in the matter. Unless you would challenge the empress's authority so soon after saving her life?"

"What does Max say about this?" Solana wanted to know.

"Your inquisitor welcomes my assistance."

"Of course he does," Cullen mumbled. Max did have a habit of recruiting every person who offered. Usually his recruits were people Leliana could use in her networks, but that would never be the case for Morrigan.

Now Morrigan and Leliana eyed each other in some silent battle of wills. They had only tolerated one another all those years ago for Solana's sake. The look in Leliana's eyes said she wasn't above sending assassins to deal with Morrigan if she stepped out of line.

Morrigan's look, for its part, said "You are welcome to try."

The moon was full, lighting the creepers that covered almost every one of the opalescent buildings they passed as the carriage rolled towards their accommodation in the High Quarter. Everything was clean and bright and crisp.

Solana was feeling a little steadier. Cullen had insisted on getting her a drink of water before they left the palace, and had returned with both the water and a serviette full of candied nuts.

Had he seen her enjoying them earlier? Or was it just a coincidence?

As with the night before, they would be staying at the vacant lodgings of a friend of the Inquisition. Leliana's or Josephine's or perhaps just an ally, Solana couldn't keep track.

It was a giant building with a sweeping staircase up to the entrance where elven servants stood waiting for their arrival. The air smelled of cherries and mint, and some unfamiliar night-blossoming flower that adorned the banister.

Cullen let out a breath at the splendor of it as he climbed out of the carriage. Josephine went ahead to make introductions. Leliana followed, throwing a nervous glance at Morrigan's carriage as it rolled up beside theirs.

Everyone else slowly ascended the stairs, admiring the garden and the grand building that rose above them.

Solana was in the middle of the staircase when the dizziness returned. It came in a wave, crashing over her. She lost the feeling in her legs and reality seemed to recede from her, darkness closing in from the edges of her vision. And then she was falling.

"Solana!"

Cullen's call drew the attention of everyone else. He caught her before she could crack her head on the stairs. She couldn't see much of his features, but she didn't have to to know she'd frightened him.

"Sorry. I'm alright. It's just been a long night."

He was gazing down at her, one hand supporting her neck, the other at her waist. She could hear Leliana at the top of the stairs, demanding to know what had happened.

"I'm fine!" she called back. She pushed against Cullen, trying to get to her feet. He kept the arm around her and truthfully she was grateful for the support as they rose up again. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"I'm going to take her to bed," Cullen said. Then he seemed to realise the meaning some might take from those words and cleared his throat. "I'm going to see her to her bedchambers. Where are they please?"

"Thank you. I don't know what's come over me."

Cullen had helped her up three flights of stairs to the room that a servant had indicated was hers.

"You saved all those men," he said softly.

"I am the Hero."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a jagged almost-smile.

The staff had already lit the lamps and the room was bathed in a warm glow. It was large but not quite as large as the rooms they'd had the night before. There was a fireplace and tall windows with heavy velvet curtains. The bed was done up in typical Orlesian splendour. There were satin drapings and more pillows than she could count at a glance.

Cullen set her on the edge of the bed, then moved aside the thick down bedclothes for her. She didn't have to be prompted. Her body felt impossibly heavy. The pillows were like a warm hug as she sank into them.

He covered her and when she looked up into his face, she was surprised by the tenderness she found there. His cold hand brushed her cheek and it took a moment for her to realise he was slowly removing the pins from her hair.

"You don't have to…"

"It's alright. I wouldn't want you to stab yourself in your sleep."

Her hair fell down to her shoulders and she didn't miss the fact that he hadn't quite stopped touching it. Gentle caresses, so light as to be excused as accidental. She closed her eyes, enjoying the attention.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" she asked him. "I mean, you know, aside from the violence."

He chuckled. "No."

"It looked like you received quite a bit of attention."

"None of it welcome."

Warmth surged through her.

There was a knock at the door and Cullen rose to greet the servants who had brought her baggage up from the coach.

Once they'd left, he hovered by the door. "You'll want your nightclothes… I… I imagine."

Getting out of this horrid Inquisition tunic was appealing, but she didn't know how to ask Cullen for help. Aside from the obvious, if he saw that she truly felt too weak to dress herself…

He'd already bent and she heard the clinking of bottles before she realised what he was doing.

The phial of lyrium potion cast an eerie blue on his face as he rose. 

"Cullen…"

He stared down at it, rolling it in his hand as if entranced by its vivid colour. "Strange, isn't it? That one thing would affect us both so differently?"

The lyrium sang. It was a tune quite different from The Calling. It sounded like the wind whistling through a craggy pass.

His gaze moved to her and he offered her a sad smile. "This should make you feel stronger. If I understand a mana drain correctly?"

She held out her hand for the potion and he took it to her, his fingers brushing hers as he passed her the bottle.

"Thank you."

"I should..." he gestured towards the door. "That is, if you will be okay?"

She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to come back to her side, to keep touching her, to hold her until the room stopped spinning. Selfish. "Yes, thank you."

"Goodnight, Solana."

"Goodnight."

Cullen's heart was still pounding when he reached the landing. That he was there at all felt like a miracle.

He played in his head what might have happened. He might have helped her disrobe under the pretense of getting her into something more comfortable. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen… felt… it all before. He closed his eyes, swallowed. From there it might have taken no more than a few gentle words and he might have lain beside her for the rest of the night, comforting her, kissing her, caressing her…

But he had miraculously resisted. It would have felt too much like taking advantage. This had been an occasion where she'd needed a friend, not a lover. And he was pleased with himself for managing to provide her with that.

Thank Andraste she had been there tonight. They could have lost so many people... Every time he thought he knew how incredible she was, she surprised him.

Raised voices halted him at the top of the final flight of stairs.

"Then explain this!" Leliana's voice.

"I told you," the Witch was saying. "I did nothing."

"Liar."

He moved down slowly, treading carefully so as not to alert the women to his presence. They were standing  in the entrance hall. Leliana was facing away from him with her hands on her hips. Morrigan was opposite her, with her arms folded across her chest. He'd expected to find everyone else there too, but it seemed they had scattered. There wasn't even a servant in sight.

"Really Leliana, I was hoping you'd found some refinement in the years since we last saw each other, it seems I was mistaken."

"Oh, you're one to talk of refinement, insinuating yourself on the palace like a… a… parasite. Then imagining you might do the same to the Inquisition? What's your plan? Or was this it, revenge?"

"Revenge? Whatever for?"

"I know you two argued, the night before we ended the Blight."

"Oh, do you? And pray tell what did we argue about?"

Leliana was silent.

"She hasn't told you? "Morrigan chuckled darkly. "I did nothing but offer her a chance at a life with the man she loved."

"What?" Leliana's entire stance changed. Her arms dropped to her side. 

Oh, Maker. Solana had specifically told him not to say anything to Leliana. How cruel that she should find out about the witch's offer like this?

"One or the other was destined to die," Morrigan said in a sing-song voice, she seemed to take pleasure in the revelation. "I told her it needn't be that way."

He had to speak, before Morrigan made Solana out to be some sort of traitor. "You wanted to perform blood magic."

Leliana spun to face him. Her eyes were wide, all colour had drained from her face and he immediately regretted saying anything.

Morrigan didn't miss a beat. "Oh, so she told you did she?"

The spymaster's face was usually difficult to read. Not now. It looked as if she'd been betrayed. 

"Yes, I wanted to perform a ritual," Morrigan said. "Do you know what happens when an archdemon dies? I'll tell you. Its essence flies from its body into the first blighted thing it encounters. Be it darkspawn, warden or… warden's spawn. If I had conceived a child with the Therin boy that night, the child would have contained the soul of the old god and he and your Hero could have lived happily ever after. But, she declined. And now his blood is lost."

Leliana turned back to her. "You're disgusting," she spat.

"For wanting to save your friend?"

"Oh please. You didn't want to save him. You wanted his blood. His royal blood. That's all you cared about."

"And what would you have me care about? Oh, yes, I recall." She smiled and it was not a smile Cullen liked.

"Leave," Leliana said.

Anyone else Cullen knew would have turned pale and made for the exit as fast as possible had they heard that word, said like that, from Lady Nightingale. But the witch's smile grew.

"You were inseparable were you not? In fact, I'd go so far as to say you were attached… at the hip. No wonder she did not wish to tell you."

Cullen moved forward, hand drifting to his sword. "That's enough."

"Oh look, the big man comes to the rescue." Morrigan mocked him. "No need. I would prefer to travel ahead. I shall meet the rest of you at Skyhold."

She swept away, Leliana watching her until the moment the door closed. He was half prepared for her to turn her wrath on him, but she sighed heavily and hung her head.

"I'm sorry that you had to see that."

"You didn't get on well when you were travelling together I take it?"

Leliana gave a hollow laugh and crossed the hall, disappearing through an archway into an adjoining room.

Cullen followed. It seemed to be a drawing room, and Leliana made her way to the small bar on the far end of it. "She's a vile fiend."

She ducked and brought out a bottle of some amber-coloured liquid. She poured two drinks, pushing one across the bar to Cullen without asking.

"It wasn't like she implied. We were not involved in that way. We were friends."

He took a sip of the burning liquid.

She could say what she wanted, he'd had his suspicions for some time. He couldn't have gotten as far as he had in the military without being able to read people.

"It wasn't Alistair you were in love with."

She met his gaze, clearly surprised but keeping her expression controlled. She downed the contents of her glass. "Is this going to cause problems between us?"

"You tell me."

She eyed him again as if trying to size him up. Then sighed. "I'd never known friendship like that. The woman who trained me, who made me what I am, came close. But she was a lie, as was her affection. How ironic that her betrayal is what lead me to Solona's side. She's saved my life more times than I can count. And when she learned of my own duplicity, that I was no innocent Chantry sister as I had claimed, she did not turn me away. In fact she helped me, she reassured me, and she stood up for me. Up until that time, I had always believed that cruelty and strength were intertwined, that I could never be strong enough to stand alone unless I became cruel. But Solana is the strongest person I know, and also the kindest." She filled up her glass again and took a long sip. "I hold no illusions, Commander. She has a preference for..." she smirked. "Let me say only that I realise I am ill-equipped to pursue anything but friendship. And if she knew I'd ever wanted more, I believe she would be mortified."

"She won't hear it from me." Maker forbid. He could hardly manage to profess his own feelings. This entire conversation made him deeply uncomfortable.

Leliana swirled the liquid in her glass. "It might not matter much soon."

"There is a chance all will be well." He said it because he had to. But a cold emptiness in his stomach told him that was unlikely. He didn't want to think on it, that he'd have to send her against an army of elite soldiers and demons, that even if she somehow survived the battle, her own blood might bring her end.

"Another drink, Commander?

"Please."

Chapter Text

Cullen did not look himself.

He was paler than usual, his eyes were red, and he glared out the window of the carriage as if it had personally insulted his honour.

"Are you okay?" Solana asked.

He startled. "What? Yes. Yes, fine."

Leliana giggled, a sound that Solana couldn't recall hearing in years. Cullen shifted his glare to her, where she sat at the opposite window.

"The Commander and I stayed up drinking last night."

Solana blinked and looked to Cullen for confirmation. He rolled his eyes and rested his head back against the seat. "An error on my part."

"You…" Solana still couldn't wrap her head around it. "What were the stakes?"

His bleary eyes came to rest on her again, "What?"

"The stakes? The bet? How did she convince you?"

"Oh, this is too good." Josephine, who was seated between Solana and Leliana, put her hands on her knees and leaned forward. "You're hungover?"

"I don't see how this is entertaining," Cullen muttered.

"Not entertaining," the ambassador said quickly. "More like… a curiosity. One I didn't expect to observe in my lifetime."

"It is, isn't it?" Leliana agreed. "Like the Gates of Minrathous."

"Or the ruins of Arlathan," Josephine added.

Cullen groaned.

While Josephine and Leliana continued to laugh and add names of great marvels to their list, Solana gently touched Cullen's knee.

He tensed at the touch, but didn't pull away.

"I have some elfroot elixir in my pack?" she offered.

He appeared to consider this carefully, before nodding.

They made good time back to Skyhold, as Max had promised. They retrieved their horses from the estate where they'd left them, and chose to forgo the luxurious accommodation, rather travelling through the night, stopping only to feed and water the horses.

Josephine seemed less concerned with appearances now that their mission to impress the Orlesian nobles was behind them, which suited Solana just fine. She was accustomed to this kind of travel, it made her feel like she was doing something.

There was a welcoming committee when they rode through the gates.

People had heard of their victory at the palace and the Orlesian members of the Inquisition seemed particularly grateful that their civil war was over. The courtyard was festive. There was music, food and even a bit of dancing.

It reminded Solana too much of the night Haven fell.

She was on her way to the tavern – ironically probably one of the quieter places at that moment – when Cassandra pushed through the crowd towards her. "Hero!"

Solana had long since given up trying to convince the woman to call her by her name.

"I was hoping I'd catch you," Cassandra said. She seemed a little out of breath. "Do you have a moment?"

There was a roar of cheering behind Solana. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Iron Bull was now drunkenly balancing along the courtyard wall while his crew cheered him on. The sad thing was that wasn't even the most ridiculous of the antics she'd seen in the last few minutes.

"I believe I do," she told the Seeker.

Cassandra tilted her head to indicate the stairs up to the ramparts and Solana followed her as Bull lost his footing and tumbled down to land on some unfortunate person's tent below.

"I'm okay!" He called up to his men.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and shook her head but didn't comment.

"What's on your mind?" Solana asked. She thought she had a good idea. Cassandra was probably concerned about how Cullen had handled the trip.

"Oh, we haven't spoken in some time," Cassandra said casually. She strode briskly, and Solana had to trot to keep up.

"We've never spoken." She eyed the Seeker, hoping that she didn't take offense. It was simply the truth. They spoke when they needed to. They'd never been particularly friendly.

Cassandra laughed, but it wasn't a normal laugh. It cut off far too early. She was nervous about something.

"What's the matter?" Solana prompted.

"Nothing's the matter."

"Is this about Max?"

"Max?" Cassandra glanced at her. "Why would it be about Max? Should it be about Max? Is there something I should know?"

Well, aside from the fact that half of Orlais seemed to think she was sleeping with him… rather not let that one slip. Cassandra was scary on a normal day.

"Relax, Cassandra. You wanted to talk to me, remember?"

"Ah, yes."

They'd reached one of the towers and couldn't walk any further along the ramparts. Cassandra turned, with her hands behind her back and Solana thought she might finally say what was on her mind, then she leaned against the tower door. It swung open and she smiled, indicating that Solana should follow her inside.

Solana found herself standing in someone's bedroom. A woven carpet ran across the length of it. There was a massive four-poster bed against the one wall, but the most interesting feature was a small garden of pot plants in the corner. As with Cullen's room, part of the roof was missing. Beams of light flowed through this hole onto the plants, creating a pleasing display.

"The garden was Celeste's idea," a voice said.

Solana had to squint into the recesses of the room to see him, although she'd recognised the voice instantly.

Cullen was standing in the corner opposite the garden, with his hands folded on his sword hilt. "I hope you like it."

She didn't understand.

Cassandra moved passed her to run a hand across the dresser near the bed. "It's missing a bottom drawer, but I've had it checked and there are no… occupants."

"Occupants?" Solana repeated, dumbly.

"Oh, you know, beetles, termites, that sort of thing." She cringed at the thought.

Cullen moved a little further into the room and patted an ornate wardrobe that Solana hadn't even noticed lurking in the shadows. "This was a bit of a mission to get up here, but I think you'll like what I've done with it."

"Done with it?"

"Come see."

She went to join him. He opened the doors to reveal not clothing, but an array of potions. He indicated the top shelf. "I know elf root is a favourite, so I had more of those made up than the others. But I'm told that this one," his hand moved down to indicate the second shelf, "assists with anxiety." He knelt to move aside some of the potions on the third shelf. "There are a few varieties here. The purple ones are something that helps with the nightmares. I know yours are different but-"

"Cullen."

He looked up at her and she saw a flicker of nerves in his eyes. His brow creased in concern.

"What is this?" she asked.

He looked to Cassandra. "You didn't tell her?"

"No. I thought you would want to."

He hung his head and covered his eyes. "Maker. Sorry. You must be terribly confused." He rose to his feet and looked down at her. His expression had something of the same tenderness she'd seen in Halamshiral. "This is your room, Solana."

"My room?" She backed away from him. "Cullen, I told you, I don't need a room."

"Would you honestly rather sleep in a barn?"

"I've slept rough for years. I don't need this." She looked at the bed, the dresser, the little garden again. "Surely there are people more deserving? I… this is a waste of Inquisition resources."

Cassandra was hovering by the door. "This room was uninhabitable. The Commander fixed it up himself, in his off-duty hours."

Solana looked to Cullen again. His cheeks had coloured and his eyes darted away from hers. He seemed incredibly unsure of himself now. "Yes, well, it helped to keep my mind off… other things."

"When did you do this?"

He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I started when you were in the Western Approach. I'm ashamed to say I… ran out of time. Cassandra completed it while we were visiting the palace."

"I don't know what to say…"

She moved away from Cullen, drifting into the centre of the room. "I… I've never had a space like this."

"If you don't like it…" Cullen began.

She spun back to him. "Its… its…" where were the words? She was too overwhelmed to come up with anything that adequately described how she felt. Her throat was thick with emotion. She turned around again, taking in the space, noticing for the first time that there were even pictures on the wall. A pastoral painting was mounted beside the bed, a sketch of Val Royeaux above the dresser. Her hand moved to her mouth.

They were going to leave for Adamant soon. There was a good chance she would never come back. He knew that. He'd known that at the time he'd done all this. It was more than just a gift, it was a statement of faith. It was a declaration that despite everything she'd told him, she had a future.

Or at the very least, that whatever future she did have meant something.

He cleared his throat, shifting in the shadows. "Please say something."

Cassandra stepped in. "I think she's happy, Cullen."

"I am." She spoke quickly. How could he doubt that? "I… Cullen this is incredible." You are incredible.

"Good." He let out a breath.

"We'll leave you to get settled." Cassandra said, indicating the door. "I'll have someone bring your things up here once the celebrations quieten down."

"Thank you. Not just for the… I mean for this."

Cassandra nodded, giving her another rare full smile.

Solana was happy to see that Cullen was also smiling as he left, the smile that seemed to pull at his cheeks of its own volition, no matter how much he tried to fight it.

Chapter Text

"We've built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor. Give the word and we march on Adamant."

Cullen's face was stoic. His chin was slightly raised – an expression Solana had noticed he used to project confidence. His gaze was steady. There was nothing in his poise to indicate that he'd come to her the night before and begged her to stay.

Begged was not entirely accurate. He wasn't the kind of man who begged for anything. He'd come to her room and paced across the floor, outlining why he thought it would be better if she waited at Skyhold while the Inquisition sorted out the trouble with the Wardens.

"Adamant Fortress has withstood countless darkspawn attacks without falling," he'd said. "The Grey Wardens defending its walls are legendary warriors."

"So am I."

He'd given her a pained look and then paced back across the room. "You're but one woman."

"I won't be fighting alone."

"Yes, but…" He'd stopped to look at her as if unsure whether to continue. "In Halamshiral… after that spell…"

One healing spell had completely drained her. "This will be different."

"I don't see how."

"I know what I'm up against. I'll have potions, armour."

He'd closed his eyes as if praying for strength. "I could order you to stay."

"You know I'd never forgive you."

"A small price for your life."

He didn't understand her life was forfeit regardless.

"Cullen, I'm a Grey Warden. We stop Blights, that's what we do. I've taken vows to do this."

His nostrils had flared at that, and he'd scowled. "To the Void with your vows. Have you not given enough?"

She'd moved closer while he glared at her, and gently touched his arm. "I'm sorry."

His head had dropped, a gesture she knew as defeat.

They'd stood that way for some time, before he'd finally pulled away and left without saying anything more.

Now they stood at the war table, their army already assembling by the gates.

"Commander," Max said, meeting his gaze. "Go give the order."

Cullen nodded, and swept out of the room. He didn't look at her. She didn't expect him to.

It was the night before they reached the fortress and the entire camp seemed to be holding its breath.

They only had a day's march across the sand left to go, but Cullen had ordered them to make camp. He wanted to reach Adamant in the early evening, when the setting sun was in their favour, rather than as it was dawning. And if they camped any closer, their fires would give away their position.

He'd never been to war like this. He'd directed much smaller battles. This kind of thing, he'd studied in books. Oh, he'd studied it in books for years, but would everything he'd learned have practical application? His palms were sweating. Everything was sweating. It was too darn hot in this desert.

Heat stroke was a very real concern if they marched during the day like he intended to.

Had he thought this through enough?

Even the evening meal was somber. He tried not to show how nervous he was, he knew his men would take their lead from his mood. But how could he not be terrified when she was going straight into the line of fire?

Solana ate very little, possibly as nervous as he was. She drank only water – although some of the men drank to the battle ahead with kegs of ale, as was Ferelden tradition. He saw her take one of the potions he'd given her too – one for anxiety – and that frightened him more.

The fires burned low. Raucous singing turned to snoring. The Inquisitor excused himself to go to sleep. Even The Iron Bull turned in. Solana sat by the fire, the flickering flames moving across her face, her eyes downcast. And then, they were alone.

The desert had cooled. A little heat rose off the baked sand. Overhead the stars glittered brightly.

This could very well be their last night together.

As if she had the same thought, her eyes rose to his. "Big day tomorrow, aren't you going to sleep?"

He poked the fire. "I… I doubt I'll be able to."

Her look said that she understood. She knew what it was like, having the lives of so many in your hands, knowing that one mistake on your part could get them all killed.

"You should rest," he said.

"I'm not tired."

She was probably feeling the same as him. Like a coiled spring.

"We could always…" No, it was stupid. But now she was looking at him expectantly. "I have a pack of cards. We could play a game of Wicked Grace?"

"Oh no, thank you," she said.

Right. Of course. Why would she want to spend her last night playing a Maker-forsaken game with hi-

"We could play chess?" she offered

His heart gave a thud. "I… I'm afraid I didn't think to bring my board."

"I think Dorian has a travel set. Hold on." She scrambled to her feet and then dashed off between the tents. Cullen was glad of her quick escape, it meant she didn't see him grinning like a fool.

"I must warn you, I'm very good at this," he said as she settled down next to him with the little ivory and mahogany set she'd somehow wrestled from the necromancer.

Her soft lips curved. "We'll see."

As they played, he watched the gentle breeze ruffle her hair, the firelight dance across her exposed collarbone, the moonlight shining off her pale hands. She was sitting across from him with her arms wrapped around her knees, chewing on her bottom lip and all he could think was how badly he wanted her.

Would she stop him if he tipped over the board, leaned forward and kissed her? Would she be opposed to spending these last hours wrapped in one another? He wanted desperately to touch her, to commit every part of her to memory.

And yet something prevented him.

"Your turn." She looked up and held his gaze a little too long.

This was better.

That was the truth of it. The physical sensations would be like getting lost in a dream. He could touch her and taste her but that wouldn't last. The night would slip away too fast. Here, this was real. This was every moment stretched to its full capacity. Watching her contemplate the board, watching her fidget with her nails, the way she cursed when he bested her, the way she sighed when he caught wind of her strategy, the way she laughed when she took one of his pieces. Simply being with her, like this. It was perfect.

"No!" She shouted, suddenly, sending a jolt right through him. She gestured angrily at the board. "I left it wide open for you. Why didn't you take that piece? It's the third time it's happened."

His heart was still skittering. "You were leaving yourself open intentionally?"

"Well yes, I…" Even in the firelight, he could see she'd coloured.

"You're not trying to… let me win?" Annoyance surged in his chest. "You do not need placate me."

"That's not… that's not what I was doing."

"I am perfectly capable of winning on my own."

"So why didn't you move into the spaces I left for you?"

Because he'd seen them, assumed they were unintentional and had ignored them because… because he hadn't wanted the game to end.

They eyed each other. Her lips were parted, the breeze teased at her robes, pulling them against her figure. Maker.

She blinked and her gaze dropped. "I see."

What did she see? Her slender fingers moved to hover over the board again.

"I'm two moves from winning, Commander," she said quietly.

Commander. Her face was cloaked in shadow. How did he read that? What was she saying?

He didn't have to look at the board to know she was telling the truth.

"Will you go to bed if I win?" she asked.

He hesitated before answering. "Do you… want me to?"

"No."

"Then I won't."

"Tomorrow will be a trying day. I don't want to keep you from your - "

"Make your move, Solana."

She did. And as predicted, it took her two moves to put him into checkmate.

Without saying a word, he set up the board again.

Dawn smelled like ice, even all the way out here. The horizon was glowing turquoise and the moon was a yellow orb, hovering just out of reach.

Solana admired Cullen as he contemplated his next move. His elbows were on his knees and his chin rested on his hand. He had the best cheekbones. She'd never noticed that before. She'd always been focused on his mouth. That mouth. The way it curved up at the edges when he spoke to her.The asymmetrical smile.

His cheeks were brushed with morning stubble. It reminded her of another night, another campfire, a dawn when she'd jerked awake to find him herself cradled against him. He had pressed kisses against her forehead and whispered that the watch would be changing soon.

This night wasn't like that night. And yet, in every important way, it was.

He caught her staring and gave her a small smile. "Shouldn't you be watching the board?"

"I don't need to. You moved your knight."

"You've got me all figured out have you?"

It was their fifth game. Or, perhaps, sixth. She'd learned his patterns as well as he'd learned hers.

"You always go in for the –" she glanced at the board and blinked.

He leaned back, folding his arms. "Check mate."

It was the second game he'd won, or perhaps the third. "Congratulations," she said.

She started rearranging the board again. He halted her with a hand on hers.

She knew he was right. The others would be up soon. They had a day of marching and then a night of fighting. There wasn't time for another game.

When she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, the look of resignation she'd been expecting was absent. Instead, there was only desire, hunger.

The hand that had halted hers didn't move, but the other brushed her hair aside. Her stomach clenched, her breath stopped. He swept the board from the log between them. Dorian's precious ivory pieces scattered into the sand.

Cullen leaned forward and –

"Sir?"

He pulled away. Her heart was still hammering. She ducked to gather up the pieces as the watchman made his report.

Solana squinted at the blur on the horizon. It was, apparently, Adamant. But the heat rising off the sand distorted the air and she couldn't make it out clearly. Cullen's army was moving into formation. She would be riding up front with Hawke, Dorian, Blackwall, Iron Bull and Max. She and Hawke would take turns casting barriers over their party and the siege engine.

Everything was abnormally hushed. With so many surrounding her, she shouldn't have been able to hear the wind.

"How was chess?" Dorian broke the silence. He was looking at his feet and from what she could tell he was trying, in vain, to kick the sand off his boots.

"Good. Thank you." She sensed the eyes of the others on her.

"Chess? Is that a code word?" Bull inquired.

"I am told that the Hero stayed up all night playing 'chess' with the Commander." Dorian's mustache twitched.

"Oh, chess is it?" Blackwall teased.

"Not that any of you will believe me, but yes. That's precisely what we did."

Hawke was leaning against his horse with his arms folded. The horse had its head stuck into a bag and was munching away happily, seemingly unaware of the mage.

"What is the deal with you two? Varric said –"

Someone cleared their throat behind Solana and she spun to find Cullen shifting awkwardly. His hands moved from his sword hilt to his side, to behind his back, to the sword hilt again in a matter of moments.

"Talk of the demon," Hawke said with an eye-roll. "You know I have this theory about Templars and their hearing…"

"Do you have a moment?" Cullen asked Solana, eyes finally focusing on hers.

"Of course."

She heard Bull say something to Dorian that she didn't quite catch as she walked away with Cullen. Bawdy laughter followed.

Cullen was still shifting uneasily.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?" He eventually asked, once they were standing a little apart from the rest of the army.

It was clear he wanted to know what they'd been saying about him, but was too polite to ask. She considered making up something embarrassing just to get a reaction, but looking at how tense he was she decided against it.

"No. I was simply telling them how good you are at chess."

A smile pulled at his mouth and he shook his head. "You won more than half of our games."

"I am the Hero of Ferelden."

"So you keep saying."

"I like reminding you."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Yes, I do." She stepped closer. She wanted to touch him. His eyes were downcast now. How easy it would be to touch his cheek reassuringly, or take his hand. Instead she simply looked into his face. "I'm going to be fine, Cullen. You don't have to worry about me."

She thought she did a good job of projecting confidence she didn't feel.

He sighed, gazing out towards Adamant again. "I… I had a whole speech prepared for this."

She waited for him to find his words, heart pounding harder with every long minute. Eventually he reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver piece. It glinted in the desert sun.

"My brother gave this to me when I joined the Templars. For luck. I don't even think it's anything special. I think he just happened to have it on him."

"I thought the Chantry was against lucky charms?"

"Oh, it is."

His gaze flicked to hers briefly before returning to the site of their enemy, still a few hours' march away. "I don't know what kind of luck it's brought me. Some days I feel cursed. Kinloch, Kirkwall… everything in between." He shook his head. "And yet, somehow I've survived. Perhaps there's something to be said for it."

He passed it to her. "I know it's not much, but it will make me feel better. When you go in there, I won't be with you. I… this is the only way I can… I'm not making any sense."

"You're making perfect sense." She accepted the coin. It was warm from sitting beside his body and her heart skittered. "It's like the blackberries, isn't it?"

His eyes grew wide and then he smiled. "Yes, yes I suppose it is."

Chapter Text

Fire rained from the sky. The air reeked of smoke, dust and death.

Solana's protective spell had held just long enough to get them through the door. She stumbled into the lower bailey, immediately finding herself face-to-face with a shade. She froze it solid and Bull smashed it into a thousand pieces. There wasn't time to celebrate. The entire courtyard was overrun.

Max was fighting two of the demons, slashing at them with a fiery sword. A third moved in to flank him and she attacked it with lightning. The demon shrieked. It spun towards her, but the smell of carrion alerted her to another behind her. She closed her eyes and tapped into the heat of her fear. Her palms grew warm. She brought them together and then ripped them apart, causing a rush of fire to rise up around her. The thing behind her – whatever it had been – dissolved in screeching pain. The shade that had been advancing disintegrated.

There was shouting from above, panicked Wardens reporting that the Inquisition had breached the defences. And then a missile, a burning comet from one of the Inquisition trebuchets, smashed through a nearby wall. Solana dived aside as a chunk of dark jetstone flew at her.

Hawke caught her, laughing. "Well hopefully Cullen doesn't kill us before the demons do."

"Hold on to that sense of humour."

"I intend to."

She was righting herself when Cullen appeared at the entrance. "All right, Inquisitor, you have your way in."

Hawke started laughing again. "What did I say about Templar hearing?"

If Cullen heard that comment, however, he ignored it. He was scowling and his fists were clenched. He spoke directly to Max. "We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"We'll be fine," Max assured him. "Just keep the men safe."

"We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor."

As if to punctuate his sentence, someone fell screaming from the battlements. Solana looked up to see the demon responsible giving a roar as if in victory.

Cullen shook his head. "There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlement, we'll clear your advance."

He glanced at Solana. For one instant, his guard dropped. His face seemed vulnerable. He was the lover, not the solider. And then it rectified itself. He turned without another word and jogged back to join his men.

Solana had been prepared for battle. What she hadn't been prepared for was fighting people wearing her uniform. Did Blackwall feel the same? He cut through his enemies like they were no more than darkspawn. She saw him cleave one man from the collarbone to beneath his right arm. The Iron Bull roared in delight at this.

She hadn't been a Grey Warden long before the slaughter at Ostragar, but even that was enough to know the sacrifice they'd each chosen to make. These warriors weren't under Corypheus's thrall, they weren't doing this because they had no choice, they were doing this because they felt it was right, because they thought they were saving the world.

If it hadn't been for the blood magic horrors she'd seen during the Blight, perhaps she might even have been among them.

The Inquisition party rushed along the passages, trying to find a way up to the battlements to help as Cullen had asked. They rounded a corner. Down in the main bailey, three lone Wardens were bravely fighting off their mage brethren.

"Stay back! We won't be sacrificed to some insane ritual!"

Max drove past Solana, leaping over the balustrade to join the fray. Solana tore after him, casting a barrier around them both as glyphs appeared beneath their feet. Her foot landed on the edge of one. Spikes of ice erupted from the ground. She was knocked aside and then she was suddenly surrounded by Shades. They had flooded out of nowhere. Two of them smashed against her barrier, sending a jolt through her. No time. It wouldn't hold long. She raised her staff and cried out in desperation. Dark clouds gathered just above her. It was like the storm, the raging tempest she was summoning from the air, sucked energy directly from her into its heart. There was a moment of uncertainty. A moment in which she stared directly into the empty eyes of a Shade. Then her storm broke. It lashed out with raw power, sending a whiplash of jagged electricity through her, through the shades, through the nearby Wardens.

Blackwall appeared at her side, as she was sucking in air. He felled the two most resilient shades. One with a slash of his broadsword and the other with a swift kick.

"Nicely done," he said, patting her on the shoulder.

The courtyard was quiet now. The surviving Warden warriors backed away from Max as he advanced towards them. His sword was glistening with blood.

"Keep your distance!" One of them called, waving an axe.

"You're being fools!" Blackwall yelled suddenly. She startled. She'd never heard him raise his voice before. "Do you think the Hero of Ferelden and I would join the Inquisition if it hated all Wardens?"

As one the thee warriors turned to look at her. They hadn't recognised her before and she was at once self-conscious. This wasn't what a Hero was supposed to look like, sweating, scratched up, hair already in a tangled mess.

But her presence did seem to do something. They lowered their weapons.

"Alright, my men will stay back," one who must have been their captain said. "We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

They fought their way long the battlements. Every muscle in Solana's body was aching from the effort and she was starting to feel dizzy. For once, she was grateful for the Inquisitor's seemingly boundless energy. It inspired her to keep pushing.

The Wardens up here shot fiery arrows rather than coming at her with swords. It was easier to deflect and in the time it took for them to draw, she could disable them with a spell.

She left the killing to the others.

They staggered into one of the tower rooms, taking a brief respite to catch their breath. Through a crack in the outer wall, Solana could make out the glowing sulphur pits in the distance. She perched on a crate as the Inquisitor passed around potions he'd found in a Warden cache.

She'd already taken enough lyrium to put Cullen into overdose and she pocketed another bottle.

"We're doing well," Max said, before downing a healing elixir.

Solana watched as his shoulder wound stitched itself closed.

"Is that sarcasm, Inquisitor?" Dorian queried. He leaned against a wall and mopped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. His upper lip was glistening. His mustache was drooping.

"Not at all."

"He means none of us have died yet," Bull said, examining a cut on his abdomen as if deciding whether it was worth taking a healing potion now or saving it for later. He palmed the potion, and then stuck it into a pouch on his belt.

Blackwall pinched the bridge of his nose. "We'd best press on. The soldiers won't last long."

Solana's heart clenched painfully. Cullen was out there somewhere fighting. She stood. "Let's go."

When they opened the door, Solana wished she'd taken more of a break.

A handful of Inquisition soldiers were desperately trying to bring down a Pride demon.

Its massive spiked body danced with roar energy and for one terrible moment, Solana was flung back into the Harrowing Chamber at the Circle, to Uldred's final transformation. The maleficar had taken on that same shape. He'd stood amidst the crumpled bodies of the mages he'd tortured – some corpses, some barely breathing. And he'd tried to make her join him.

She was frozen, heart drumming, blood roaring in her ears. Everything in her was telling her to run back into the relatively safety of the tower room.

But Max charged ahead, yelling for the Inquisition soldiers to retreat, and the others followed. A swath of red magic covered The Iron Bull and he roared, a terrifying guttural battle cry.

Get a hold on yourself.

Solana pushed herself forward. She'd defeated Uldred, she'd defeat this one too.

The ground around the Pride Demon sparkled with ice mines. Solana saw Max's face and she knew what he was planning to do. He pulled a potion of out his pack, then dashed across one of the glyphs. It triggered. Spikes of ice slammed into him, tearing his flesh. But he was ready. He fell to his knees before the demon, for one instant a bloody mess. Then he downed the potion and, as his body was still being repaired, he leaped at the thing, unsheathing his sword in mid-air, to plunge it into the demon's grey flesh.

Blackwall followed him, the ground now clear, slashing at the demon's legs with his mighty broadsword. Hawke sprinted past them all, vaulting onto a stack of crates against the parapet. Blue magic shot from his palms and Solana thought he was casting ice at the demon, but the spell hit Max and twirled around him like a wisp, healing the remaining injuries.

Solana kept her distance, throwing fire balls. The first few were deflected by the demon's plated armouring, but then its broad shoulders caught light and flames chased across its upper body. It screamed in torment, spinning towards her.

She backed away, breath stuck in her chest. It was looking right at her. Electricity sparked from its hand into a mighty whip. It lashed out and she dived to the side, dropping into a roll, narrowly avoiding electrocution.

"Hey! Big Guy! Over here!" Bull taunted it. Dorian, standing beside him, sent forth an array of bright sparks from his staff that hit the demon's side.

Sparkler. Varric's pet name for the mage suddenly made a lot of sense.

Solana scrambled to her feet as the creature turned to Bull and Dorian. It hardly appeared to notice Max and Blackwall hacking at its legs, and every time it moved, it kicked them aside.

Bull leaned forward, gritting his teeth, and he looked like his namesake. Then, with another mighty roar, he ran forward, leaping smoothly over the remaining mines and swinging his axe into the demon's abdomen. The demon threw its head back in a howl that turned Solana's insides to mush. It swiped at Max, sending him flying along the ground. Bull had his axe buried in the demon's chest and was hanging from it, whooping with joy.

While Max was out of the way, Dorian set a fire glyph beneath the demon's foot and it burst into flame. The demon stomped, trying in vain to put the magical fire out. Blackwall dodged aside, but wasn't quite quick enough. The edge of a foot caught him and he was knocked to his knees. He didn't have time to get out of the way as it came down again.

Solana cast a desperate barrier. The mighty foot landed.

"Blackwall!"

Her barrier contracted, holding the pressure of the demon's tread. Blackwall curled into a ball within the bubble of her magic. And then the air pulled taut. The crack of magic reverberated through her skull. She thought she'd been hit by the whip, but there was no pain. Green light blossomed over the Pride Demon's head. It was frozen, foot in mid-air.

Max was in a crouch, holding out his left arm before him. She could see from the movement of his shoulders that he was panting. Whatever he'd done with that mark of his, had been draining.

"Quick, we don't have much time," he gasped.

Blackwall rolled out from under the foot.

"Everyone move!" Solana yelled.

She remembered Uldred. She focussed on what he'd done to the mages, to her home, to Cullen. She could feel the fire rising within her. Anger and pain swirling around and within each other. She cast forward, at the stunned demon and everything in her line of sight exploded into flame.

Then everything went black.

She came to in Hawke's arms. Blackwall was holding a potion to her lips.

"There you go," he said, his beard smiling.

"How long was I –"

"Only a moment."

"The demon –"

"Gone."

She struggled to sit. That same dizziness that she'd felt in Halamshiral had returned.

No, not here, not now.

Her surroundings blurred into focus. Max was examining the charred carcass of the demon. He liked collecting rare reagents. Dorian was tending to Bull. It looked like they were trying to reset his shoulder.

"So much for the Hero of Ferelden," she muttered. 

"You defeated the monster, I think you can keep the title," Hawke said with a smile, but it didn't carry to his eyes. He seemed concerned. He knew, like she did, that a mana drain wasn't supposed to knock you so hard.

She turned from him. "Clarel. We need to get to…"

Blackwall helped her to her feet. She hoped he didn't notice how unsteady she still felt.

Chapter Text

Fires burned in massive braziers, lighting the courtyard where the Warden mages were already performing their dark ritual. A number of warriors stood guard, the magic playing off their bright armour.

Clarel and Livius addressed them from a gallery high above. Clarel was just as regal as Solana remembered. Livius was her malicious consort, fingering his staff as if it represented the power he'd been promised.

No one had noticed their party's intrusion yet.

A woman joined Clarel and Livius while Max and Hawke were debating strategy in murmurs. Solana had to squint to see her. The Chantry insignia was emblazoned on her forehead and Solana suddenly recognised her as one of the tranquil mages Falin and Cassey had been seeking to protect.

Solana was still dazed from her encounter with the Pride Demon so she didn't understand.

The tranquil knelt before Clarel, then stood. It happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. Clarel brought a knife around and slit the woman's throat.

"No!" Max ran forward, strategy forgotten and the others followed. Black spots were pressing in on Solana's vision again, bile was rising in her throat, but she forced herself forward with the others.

"Stop them!" Livius shouted. "We must complete the ritual!"

Solana's grip tightened on her staff. Weak as she felt, she would fight them. She had to. She couldn't let them go after the Old Gods, she couldn't let them start a Blight. Even if it cost her her life.

Max held up his hand to halt them and she skid to a stop. He strode forward alone.

Blood was roaring in Solana's ears. What did he mean to do? He couldn't hope to face them on his own?

The Wardens turned. They too were tensed, ready to fight. The magic of their half-cast ritual sparkled green behind them, powered by the blood of the tranquil.

And there was Cassey. Her mouth was in a firm line, her grip on her staff mirrored Solana's. She would strike Max down as soon as the order was given, and Solana knew she'd have to stop her.

"Clarel, stop!" Max shouted, "There will be no ritual and no demon army!"

It was Livius who answered. "Then the Blight rises with no Wardens left to stop it and the whole world dies! Is that what you want?" He raised his arms for emphasis. "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must. But do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

Sick. The lie was so sick, twisting everything the Wardens were into its exact opposite.

Clarel's eyes narrowed as she addressed Max. "We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

Enough. "And then he binds your mages to Corypheus!" Solana yelled.

That seemed to startle Clarel. She took a step backwards and muttered something that Solana couldn't hear from where she stood.

Livius leaned to whisper into her ear. For a moment no one spoke, no one moved.

Then Clarel squared her shoulders. "Bring it through."

As one, the mages turned again. Green magic danced from their palms. It was so similar to Max's strange anchor magic that Solana was hardly surprised to see a rift open within their circle. She swallowed. If any of the Wardens present knew where the Old Gods slept, it was Clarel.

The instant she was bound to whatever they were pulling through that rift, Corypheus would have his Blight.

Max advanced on the Wardens, hand on his sword hilt. The rest of their party followed his lead. Bull held his axe menacingly and the lute-string twang of Dorian casting a barrier echoed across the otherwise silent courtyard.

The Warden warriors reacted, drawing together to form a wall between the Inquisition and their rift. A handful of different spells sparked among the mages, wardings and barriers and enhancements.

If this came to a fight, the Inquisition didn't stand much of a chance.

Something roared through the rift, startling even the Wardens.

"Please," Hawk called, his voice thick with emotion. "I've seen my share of blood magic. It is never worth the cost."

Solana didn't know what to say, but she knew she had to speak. They had to somehow talk the Wardens down. There were no other options.

"My name's Solana Amell," she shouted. "Some call me The Hero of Ferelden. I helped kill the last arch demon. I helped stop the last Blight." Hawke had turned to look at her. There was something strange in his expression. Had she said something wrong? She plunged on, regardless. "I am a Warden too. Believe me, if this plan would end all Blights, I would be standing there beside you. But it won't. It's a trick." She pointed at Livius. "That man's master wants you to wake the Old Gods, he's going to use Clarel to start a Blight."

The Wardens turned to their Commander and Solana dared hope her words had gotten through to her.

Livius immediately jumped in, gesturing wildly to Clarel as she stared at him. She asked him something that Solana wished she could hear. Whatever it was, he didn't react well. He raised his staff.

"My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor," he called to Max as he slammed down his staff. Once. Twice. "He sent me this to welcome you!" A third time.

A familiar screech cut the night and Solana turned her gaze automatically to the sky.

The archdemon.

Chills raced through her like the touch of a wraith. The archdemon. Her destiny.

Out of potions, out of strength, she had no idea how she was going to fight it, but she knew she had to.

It dived, breathing red magic into the courtyard indiscriminately. Wardens and Inquisition alike leapt aside, out of its path. It circled above them again, coming to rest on one of the towers, beating its giant black wings.

It was difficult to think of a worse choice Livius could have made. Up until that moment, Clarel had been uncertain of his allegiance. Now she backed away from him in horror. He was too wrapped up in his own glory to notice. He raised his arms into the air and the beast responded, sticking out its neck and shrieking its bone-rattling call.

Clarel's chain-lighting hit Livius in the back with such force it bowled him over. Then she focused her attention on the archdemon, sending forth a blast of electricity big enough to attract its attention but not to do any major damage. It responded instantly, breathing its strange red fire in her direction, before taking flight again and cutting a swath of flame across the courtyard. Livius scrambled to his feet and, as before, made a run for it, darting up the closest flight of stairs.

The rift roared again, and another Pride Demon burst through.

"Help the Inquisitor!" Clarel shouted to her Wardens before running after him.

The Pride Demon brought its hands together and when they came apart electricity was sparking between his jagged fingers. Solana ran forward, ready to pitch in against it, Max at her side. But Cassey skid in front of them, holding out her staff to block their path.

"Cassey – " Solana didn't want to have to fight her.

The woman's look was hard and unfamiliar. "Get Clarel," she said. "We'll handle this."

There was so much Solana wanted to say to her. She wanted to apologise for getting her involved in all this, for hiding her identity, for abandoning her, for killing Falin. But there was no time.

"Thank you," Max turned to pursue the Warden Commander and Solana followed.

Clarel was facing off against Livius by the time their group reached the upper battlements.

Something had destroyed most of this walls below them – Cullen's trebuchets? Perhaps the very same blast that Solana had witnessed? Behind Clarel, the ground dropped away into darkness. One of her spells slammed into Livius, sending him skidding along the floor.

He curled in on himself in obvious agony. "You could have served a new god."

"I will never serve the Blight!" She declared.

She was raising her staff, probably to put an end to the magister, when the archdemon, as if personally insulted by her words, swooped down. It snapped her up in its giant maw and carried her in its mouth as it took flight again.

Solana stumbled backwards, momentarily frozen in horror. It landed on one of the towers and shook its head. Clarel was floppy as a ragdoll. Then it flung her to the ground. She landed hard, tumbling to a stop on the stone. A lesser person – a person without the strength of a Warden – would have been killed, but she lay there, chest heaving, bleeding out.

There was no chance to help her. The archdemon started prowling towards them like a giant cat, eyeing Max as if it intended to make him the next meal. He backed away, towards the edge that looked like it was the edge of the very world.

But Clarel wasn't done yet. She pulled herself along the ground, even as the archdemon moved above her, each giant footstep threatening to squash her. "In war, victory." She rolled onto her back. "In peace, vigilance." She lifted her hand. The last part of the vow, didn't need to be said. In death, sacrifice. The archdemon leapt towards Max. At the same moment, Clarel struck up at its stomach with the very last of her magic.

It screamed and tumbled forward, thrown off balance. Solana dived aside as it clawed and scrambled, slamming its huge armoured feet against the edge of the battlements. But it was too heavy. It fell into darkness, taking a good chunk of the ramparts with it. Then everything around Solana was crumbling. The ground gave way beneath her. She fell to her knees, clutching for purchase, slipping down towards the dark. She reached up desperately. Max grabbed her hand and for a moment she was running, running from a landslide of rock and rubble. And then they were falling, all of them, into the abyss.

Solana opened her eyes and blinked. Max was standing upside down above her head. She blinked again, trying to clear her vision.

"We were… falling." Hawke's voice said. She turned to try find it. He was standing sideways, on a lump of rock. They were surrounded by a green-tinged darkness and columns of broken buildings. There were stone pillars too, stretching upwards like blighted fingers. "Is this… are we dead?"

"No," she said, slowly. "This is… the Fade."

"This isn't how I remember the Fade," Hawke said.

It was different to how she remembered it too. She'd been here often, but it had always been more like a blurred pathway. Now she could see every detail, she could feel the rock beneath her feet, she could smell stagnant water. "Maybe it's because we're here physically instead of just dreaming?" She looked up at the Inquisitor. "They say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now." Hawke said. "That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using and there could be others." His voice pitched. He was frightened.

Solana pushed down her own fear. There'd be time enough for that later. "In the real world, the rift that the demon came through was not far away, maybe we can get out the same way?" she suggested to Max

"It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?" He agreed.

She jumped and somersaulted. The strange gravity caught her and tugged her down to where Max was standing. She landed on her feet, but It took a moment to adjust to thinking she wasn't standing on the ceiling. Now she was the right way up she could see the sky – the twisting green and black clouds. In the distance, the Black City of myth. She had first seen it on the day of her Harrowing and it chilled her now just as it had then. If she squinted at it, it looked like there were lights on inside. What lived there now the Maker had abandoned it? Goosebumps prickled her flesh.

The last time people had physically walked through the Fade, they'd corrupted that city. At least that's what the Chantry said. They'd also started the first Blight by bringing that corruption into the mortal world.

Hawke landed beside her. "Do you think if I say Cullen's name here he'll suddenly appear with his army?"

"Please don't," she said. "It's bad enough that we're stuck here."

"They're fighting demons and blood mages out there," Max pointed out, moving forward. "I don't know if it's any better."

"I don't want to think about that," she said.

Hawke patted her on the back, "Oh, don't worry, familiar territory for him."

They walked a little way in silence. They were in some kind of marshland, the water green and greasy-looking, the stones jagged and sharp. Skulls and bones littered the ground, and every here and there a candle flickered as if to accentuate them… or make a shrine of them.

Bull was muttering to himself, Blackwall looked as if he was trying to take everything in, Dorian was curiously quiet.

"Was he really that bad, when you met him?" Solana asked Hawke, trying to take her mind off her surroundings. "He's told me he was… different."

He didn't have to ask who she was talking about. He chuckled. "Yes, that's one way to put it. The first time I encountered him, he was punching a young man in the stomach for being away from his barracks."

"W -what?" Was he joking? She couldn't even imagine the Cullen she knew doing such a thing.

Their conversation drew Dorian's attention. "Oh, Ser Prim and Proper has a dark side? Tell me more?"

Max glanced over his shoulder at them. "I'm sure he had a good reason."

"Well," Hawke said, "the young man did transform into an abomination a moment later. Shame, poor fellow. Someone had performed experiments on him. Implanted a demon."

"That's possible?" Bull sounded horrified, something Solana had never pictured hearing.

"Hey, look where we're standing right now," Hawke said. "I'm coming around to the belief that anything is possible."

"So, Cullen was right to suspect him then?" Solana asked.

"He told me he'd meant to scare a confession out of the boy. I think he managed to scare him a little more than he'd intended."

"Oh."

Hawke gave her a small smile. "He wasn't all that bad. He didn't make a habit of hurting mages. He mostly just glared at them broodingly. And he didn't think ordinary people could possibly be friends with mages. Imagine my surprise to find him in love with one." He snorted.

Solana didn't know what to say. She felt her cheeks colour.

The Iron Bull broke the awkward silence. "Everyone, if I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open."

No one spoke for a while after that.

Chapter Text

"It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat from the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

Solana stared at the image of the Divine and tried to comprehend what she was saying.

You can't believe everything you hear in the Fade. Hadn't that been her first lesson, the test she'd had to pass when she came of age? This thing looked like the Divine, but it could be anything. It could be simply telling her what she wanted desperately to hear.

"It's a trick?" she asked, despite herself. "It's not a real Calling? The demon is just mimicking it? Like a bad dream?"

Justinia, or whatever it was, nodded.

So, she wasn't dying. She wasn't blightsick. She still had those twenty years… provided she survived this. Anger surged, hot in her blood. She'd given up everything, thinking she had no future. But it had all been a lie.

"I'd like to have a few words with this Nightmare."

"You will have your chance, brave Warden," the Divine said. "This place of darkness is its lair."

Solana fingered the coin in her pocket.

Everyone was walking in silence again. Max had been sullen since the revelation that he wasn't a Herald. Hawke and Blackwall kept shooting glares at each other after a bitter argument about the Wardens they'd seen in the Inquisitor's memory. Bull was hunched over and scowling, jumping at everything that moved in the shadows. Dorian appeared to be examining his nails and Solana… Solana couldn't stop thinking of all the things she would have done differently if she'd only known she'd had time.

When she'd last spoken to Leliana, the spymaster had asked some probing questions about the situation with Cullen. When Solana'd tried to explain why he'd ended it, Leliana had tutted and rolled her eyes.

"You've warded your heart," she had said. "You're afraid of being responsible for another. So, you'd rather turn to drink than to a man who clearly adores you."

Solana had argued with her and denied it, especially on the point of the alcohol. She hadn't needed drink at all since Cullen had given her her very own potions stash. But, of course, Leliana had been completely right. The Calling had driven Solana from Cullen's arms before he'd overdosed on lyrium, before he'd told her he couldn't be with her in case his addiction hurt her. She was the Hero of Ferelden, it would take more to hurt her than a hapless blow across the face. He'd needed her, but she'd been satisfied to keep her distance because she'd been afraid he'd become attached.

He'd asked her to live with him and in that moment all she had seen was how devastated he'd be when she died.

Would it have been different if she'd known she had twenty years and not merely a few months?

Hawke cleared his throat beside her. He laughed when he saw her jump. "Sorry."

"I should probably pay more attention to my surroundings, considering," she said.

"Well, I'm just an apostate not a demon. People do get us confused, but I promise not to attack you. You know, unless I'm manipulated by a … never mind. I wanted to ask you something."

She looked at him expectantly.

"Your full name, Solana Amell. Did I hear that right?"

"Yes, it's hardly a secret."

"So, your surname is Amell. A – M – E – L – L?"

"Yes…" she answered hesitantly.

"That's funny. It's my name too."

She stared at him. "I was under the impression your name was Hawke?"

"Oh, it is," he said quickly. "But my mother's name was Amell. They're quite a well-known family in Kirkwall. Well, they used to be. You know, back before I was born… is that where you're from?"

"No I…" That was a strange thought. She'd never considered that she might have been born outside of Ferelden. "Well I don't really know. I… I grew up in the Circle. But I can't imagine that they'd ship me all the way from Kirkwall?"

"No, probably not." He stuck his hands into his coat pockets. "It's interesting though. Because I remember my mother telling me about this cousin of hers whose first-born child was taken to the Circle by Templars. She never got over the loss. The way my mother told it, it was the beginning of the downfall of the family."

Solana stopped walking, earning a string of curses from Bull who'd almost walked into her and was not in the mood for surprises. She ignored him. "You're saying we might be cousins?"

Hawke shrugged. "It's possible."

"Well that's quite the bloodline," Dorian commented. "The Hero and The Champion, both from the same stock. Next thing we'll discover old Max is your nephew."

"I'm not anything," the Inquisitor said. "Let's get moving."

Dorian raised his eyebrows and Solana and Hawke exchanged a look.

"If it's any consolation, we're related," Dorian called to him as they started splashing through the marshland again. "Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You're a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."

"How do you even know that?" Max muttered.

"Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You're taught lessons and tested... by strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes—there it is."

Solana was still struck by Hawke's revelation. "I've never had family before," she said, quietly, so that only he might hear.

Dorian was still talking about bloodlines, probably just speaking to fill the silence.

"I'm afraid there aren't many of us left." Hawke said. "I have an uncle. But… well, he's… oh and my brother, of course! He's a Warden, like you. But he, um, well he kinda hates me. Might not hate you, though?"

Hawke smiled at her and for the first time in what felt like a long while, she found herself smiling back.

"When we get out of here I'll do some digging. I'm sure I can find more information on your branch. My mother mentioned that cousin had other children, also mages."

"I might have brothers and sisters?"

"Well, if they didn't perish during the rebellion… sorry, inappropriate. Yes, there's a good chance you do."

She'd gone most of her life alone. The idea that somewhere there was a place for her, that she belonged somewhere, was more appealing than she'd ever imagined.

She was jolted from her thoughts as they strode into some kind of chamber. Like all parts of the Fade, it was open to the sky. In the centre of this one, there was a cracked mirror. Before it, charred corpses on their knees, as if they'd died in extraordinary pain.

"Well this isn't creepy at all," Hawke said. His knuckles where white on his staff.

The voice of the demon rang out. "Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." It chuckled malevolently. "Like Blackwall. Ah, there's nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are nothing like a Grey Warden."

"I'll show you a Warden's strength, beast," he spat back, spinning around as if trying to find it.

Hawke was approaching the mirror, as if entranced. Solana grabbed his sleeve, worried that he was being controlled by a demon or some kind of foul magic.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just… isn't this an eluvian? A broken one, but that's an intriguing thing to find here, isn't it? "

She shrugged. "I'm not familiar with the term."

He looked around at the others but they stared at him blankly.

"I had a friend who had a broken one just like this. She tried to fix it, but it was corrupted – blighted. They're usually doors."

"Doors into the Fade?"

"That's what I'm wondering."

"I'm sure this is fascinating," Max said, "but let's talk about it when we're back home? Dead end. Come on."

He turned and lead them back the way they'd come. Solana jogged to catch up with him.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Of course not." He glanced at her, then sighed and looked at his feet. "I have an army in the physical world dying because they believe in me. But I'm a fraud."

"You're not a fraud."

"I've been calling myself the Herald of Andraste. All I am is the fool who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He clenched his left fist, briefly snuffing out the light of the anchor. "Everything I am, everything I've become, is a lie."

"That's not true."

He spun on her. "You were there! You saw my memory! I only lived because the Divine saved me. She gave her life for me. I'm still the brat of Trevelyan."

"Stop this!" He jerked at the metal in her voice. "You have people out there relying on you. Do you think I had the magical blessing of Andraste when I was given the task of stopping the Blight? I had frikken Morrigan, the bad tempered bitch of the wilds." And Alistair, who hadn't known his left hand from his right. "I was a Circle mage. I knew nothing of the world. The first time I'd even seen anything outside of that tower was the day I was recruited. If I can save the world, you sure as the Void can."

Bull started laughing, obviously amused by her disastrous attempts to comfort the Inquisitor.

The demon's voice brought an abrupt stop to that. "The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions," it said. "Or perhaps, I'll inhabit his body myself."

"I'd like to see you try," Bull rumbled, doing a good job of hiding whatever fear he may have been feeling.

Solana turned back to Max, who was glowering at his feet. As if sensing her attention, he said, "You know, they wanted you to lead? You were the first choice." He indicated Hawke with a tilt of his head. "He was the second. I was the accident, the prisoner they recruited because of this." He unfolded his hand, showing her the anchor.

She took a deep breath. "Max, you've done what you've done. Doesn't it make it all the more impressive if you've done it on your own? You survived Haven, you saved the empress, and we're all here right now because of you."

"I'm uncertain that's a good thing."

Hawke raised his hand. "I, for one, am glad not to be splattered at the base of the abyss."

Not sure what more to do, Solana reached out and patted Max's shoulder.

Dorian's yelp jerked her attention from the Inquisitor. He was standing just behind her, staring wide-eyed.

Blackwall withdrew his weapon. "What in the Maker's name - ?"

She followed their line of sight. There, in the shadows, creeping slowly towards them, were a handful of darkspawn.

"Get behind me!" she barked at the others. Her Warden blood had to be good for something.

"No," Max withdrew his sword. "I can handle this."

"Now isn't the time for pride."

A shriek ran towards them, its armour clanking, its poisoned claws already slashing. If one of those cut Max, he'd be infected with the Taint. It opened its always-smiling mouth to deliver its ear-splitting call. She dived in front of the Inquisitor, using her staff to block the razor-claws. Max grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her aside. With a roar, he plunged his sword into the creature's skull.

She stumbled, dazed. The rest of her party had already engaged the others.

Blackwall was fighting a Hurlock, but the grinning darkspawn was bigger and stronger than him, even in his armour. Dorian was surrounded by Genlocks, firing arrows at him from close quarters. Bull was dodging the razor-jaw of an emissary. Hawke had been backed into a corner by another shriek and a series of barriers was all that was keeping it at bay. She didn't know who to help. Her friends were overwhelmed by darkspawn and she couldn't think.

Max rushed to assist Hawke, jolting her out of her paralysis. She raised her staff and shot a blast of ice towards Bull. The emissary froze solid, allowing bull to slam down on it with his axe, shattering it. He gave her a brief salute before charging to help Dorian. Solana summoned flame in her palms and threw it at Blackwall's Hurlock, scorching the creature's back. As it lifted its head to howl in pain, Blackwall slashed its throat. A final blast of magic lit the area, one of Dorian's fire glyphs igniting, incinerating the last of the darkspawn.

The Inquisitor turned on her. "What in the Void was that, Solana?"

She'd never seen him angry before. The puppy had teeth. He advanced on her. His dark eyebrows were pulled together. His brown eyes were smouldering. She backed away a step.

"Now just hold on," Blackwall stepped forward, ready to defend her.

"I'm a Warden," she said, finding her courage. "You are not."

"And you think that makes you better than me? After all we've seen tonight?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Hey," Hawke stepped between them.

She spoke past him. "Just because you're Inquisitor, it doesn't mean you're immortal."

"Just because I'm not the Herald, doesn't mean I'm some, some, weakling in need of defending!" His sword was still in his hand and he was waving it, but in a way that seemed exasperated more than threatening.

"So you need to prove yourself by, what, getting the Blight?" she shot back at him.

He paused, with his weapon raised. "The what?"

Of course, the precious noble had probably never even seen a darkspawn before. "It's in their blood, the Taint."

Max looked form Solana to the carcass of the shriek and back to her again.

"How do you not know this?" she asked him seriously.

"Solana," Hawke said gently. "What are you talking about?"

She looked around at the others. They were all staring at her as if she was mad. "Darkspawn carry the Taint," she said uncertainly. It was impossible that they didn't know that. Hawke had told her of his escape from Lothering. But she didn't know what else to say. "If you exchange blood, or ingest their fluids, you either die or become a – "

"Ghoul, yes," Hawke said. He was frowning at her. "But that," he pointed at the body of the shriek, "is not a darkspawn."

"I think I know what darkspawn look like."

Max had sheathed his sword. "That's a spider."

"What?"

Hawke nodded. "Yes, I see a spider."

Bull laughed. "A spider?"

She spun to him. "You see darkspawn too?"

"No! It's a fuckin demon."

She turned to the other Grey Warden, who was staring at the body of the emissary, wiping his hands on his tunic. "Blackwall, what do you see?"

"Me?" He tore his eyes from the corpse to meet hers. "Oh, I um. They're spirits. Ghosts. I don't know who these people are, of course. Just people. Soldiers, I suspect. I don't know the woman. Never met her." He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

"I have a theory," Dorian said, kicking one of the Gemlock bodies aside. "Are you afraid of spiders, Inquisitor?"

Max shifted where he stood. "You think we're seeing what we fear most?" He neatly avoided answering Dorian's question.

Dorian smiled. "If you have another theory, I'm happy to hear it?"

The Inquisitor's eyes moved to settle on Solana again. "It would seem I owe you an apology."

"I'll settle for you not stabbing me."

"I had no intention of stabbing you."

"Good to know."

They started moving forward again, Solana falling into step beside Max.

"So, spiders?" she queried softly, trying to break the tension that had formed between them.

He glanced at her and a smile flickered across his lips. "What I'm interested to know is how the Hero of Ferelden could possibly still be afraid of darkspawn. You must have killed hundreds?"

She shivered. "It's not the individuals I fear. It's what they represent."

"The Blight?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry, we'll stop Corypheus."

The disembodied voice of the Nightmare Demon laughed. "Oh, she's not worried about Corypheus. Her worries are a little… closer to home." She steeled herself. She knew it would get around to her eventually. Would it use her feelings for Cullen against her?

"I wonder," it said, "What will you do, Hero of Ferelden, if that child you carry has been infected with your Taint?"

Chapter Text

They were all staring at her and she couldn't breathe. The Nightmare's laughter echoed around them. The others had been quicker to brush off its taunts, but Solana's whole body felt like ice.

They were all staring at her, as if she'd known. As if she'd hidden it from them.

"I can't," she stammered. "It's not possible. Wardens. The Joining."

But she clutched her stomach automatically and she knew, even as she said the words, that they weren't true. Duncan had listed reduced fertility as one of the many side-effects of the Joining. After the fact, of course. It hadn't particularly troubled her. The Circles didn't like mages breeding. Somehow, in her mind, that had come to be infertility. She didn't know of any other Wardens who had had children.

The demon could be lying…

But this would explain so much. Her nausea, her weakness. A range of things that she'd put down to the effects of The Calling or blight sickness suddenly had another explanation.

Her mind was like a caged cat, darting from panicked thought to panicked thought.

When had she last had alcohol?

What would all the lyrium she'd taken this night do?

And the fighting. Oh Maker, the fighting.

Her knees felt weak.

"Solana." Max's voice was soft. "We need to move forward. It… your fear makes it stronger. We need to…"

She nodded. The Fade didn't have answers. It never had answers.

 "So, are we to assume that's a little miniature Commander you've got there?" Dorian queried after the awkward silence had become unbearable.

"Dorian." Max cautioned.

"I don't know," Solana said.

Dorian whistled.

She closed her eyes and rephrased. "If I am… then yes. But it's trying to scare me, isn't it? I might not be."

"You mean you don't know?" Dorian asked.

"That is what I just said."

"I thought women always knew."

"Yes, well, it's easier to tell when you don't think you're dying."

Dying… she cursed herself for playing into the demon's hands, but her mind kept returning to that. What effect would her Taint have on her child?

Her hand strayed to her stomach again. Child. Cullen's child. An hour ago, she hadn't considered the possibility it might exist. And now she wanted it to more than anything. She wanted to carry it and protect it and raise it. She wanted a future, a life, all of the things The Calling and her duty and her grief had denied her.

Blackwall had been walking silently beside her. He caught her eye. "You alright?"

She offered him a shaky smile. "I don't know. I… have Wardens had children, in the past?"

She couldn't be certain of his expression behind the beard, but she thought he might be frowning. "I imagine so."

"You're not sure?"

"It must happen. You have men and women living together, it's bound to, isn't it?"

What was unsaid was that it was rare enough that he didn't personally know any. Perhaps it was simply uncommon because of the kind of lives that Wardens lived? Perhaps it went against their vows? Their lives were supposed to be lived in servitude, the great protectors. There wasn't place in a barracks for children.

Perhaps Warden children, when they did occur, were sent to the Chantry like the forbidden offspring of Circle mages? Perhaps they went on to live perfectly normal lives, without ever knowing what their parents were?

Max stopped at the entrance to a narrow passage. He glanced back at the rest of them and Solana thought he might have been asking for reassurance

To say it was ominous would be a mighty understatement. Two grotesque statues guarded it, with sconces where their noses should have been. Overhead, jagged red lyrium protruded at odd angles.

The spirit, or the Divine, or whatever it was, waited for them expectantly. She – it – made the stones around it glitter almost invitingly.

Solana gripped her staff tightly. This looked like a trap and she knew the others were thinking the same. But what choice did they have but to move forward?

They entered the dank corridor. The spirit drifted ahead of them, lighting the way like a lantern. Water dripped from overhead, alarming Solana when it happened to splash down the back of her neck. As they plunged knee-deep into an emerald pool, she was reminded of the Chant of Light.

From these emerald waters doth life begin anew…

When the Circle Chantry had spoken of emerald waters, Solana had always imagined something prettier.

On the other side of the passage, they found a wide cavern with a low roof. It was intensely claustrophobic, despite its size, and lit by an odd red light that cast bloody reflections in the water.

They pressed forward, no one daring to speak.

And then another light danced in the water, not red but green.

"The rift!" Hawke exclaimed. Solana looked up and she could see it too, sparkling through fissures in the cavern wall. "We're almost there!"

"Don't say it like that," Bull grumbled. "That guarantees another demon is gonna show up".

"You must get through the rift, Inquisitor." The spirit's voice echoed in the chamber. "Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons and exile this creature to the furthest reaches of the Fade."

Hawke started splashing towards the green glow that indicated the cave's exit, then suddenly he stopped. Solana caught up with him and then she wished she hadn't. Through the cave exit, she could see the massive form of a darkspawn broodmother, sitting between them and the rift.

"Sweet Andraste," she breathed.

Another demon hovered before the broodmother. It was roughly the shape of a man, but whatever eyes it may have had were hidden beneath a spiny carapace. Six spider legs protruded from its back and stretch up over its shoulders.

Solana had heard of this before, demons so mighty that they could split themselves into multiple, independent forms. The man-shaped aspect hung in the air, as if waiting for them. As soon as it saw them, it leered at Max. The broodmother gave a thunderous growl. Its thick tentacles undulated as it leaned towards them.

The Inquisitor squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on his sword. But the spirit gently pushed him aside and floated out before them. "If you would, please tell Leliana, I am sorry I failed you too."

It glowed brighter, so bright that Solana was forced to shut her eyes. She squinted at it, watching it through her eyelashes. Wild energy sparked from its body, hitting the Aspect and sending it reeling. The spirit drifted right up to the broodmother's face, growing increasingly brighter. And then it exploded.

Everything went white and Solana was knocked backwards by the force of the blast. She was temporarily blinded, blinking furiously, struggling to see what had happened. When her vision returned, it was in monochrome at first. She saw Max stumbling towards the Aspect, which was still recovering from whatever the spirit had done to it. The broodmother was gone.

Dorian cast a barrier and Bull charged forward. He was raising his axe to strike at the demon, when the demon blinked out of existence.

It appeared beside Solana, laughing. It pointed at her stomach. She dived aside as electricity sparked from its bony finger, hitting the spot where she would have been standing.

Max took a swing at it, but it blinked away again.

"You can't defeat me!" It declared, appearing again in front of the rift. With a wave of its skeletal hand, three genlocks appeared beside it. Green barriers of no element known to Solana instantly blocked every exit. "I grow fat on your fear!"

Without warning, it pointed at Solana again. She didn't know which way to jump and the moment's hesitation cost her. An invisible force hit her shoulder and every one of her muscles seized up. She couldn't move.

An intricate spiderweb of green light appeared above the Aspect's head, circular like a glyph. She wanted to scream to the others to watch out, they were dealing with the genlocks, but even her mouth was stuck.

Two terrors burst into being where the Aspect had been. One immediately lept on Max, throwing him to the ground. The other came for her, but Blackwall stepped in front of her, slicing the thing's chest as a spell from Dorian set it ablaze.

Bull pulled the other off Max and punched it in the face. It screeched, jabbing at him with its long fingers.

"Little help here?" he called to Hawke, who was standing nearby. But Hawke had been frozen the same as her. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Oh, shit." Bull said, punching the terror again.

Dorian obliged in Hawke's place, sending a bolt of lightning at the terror. Bull dropped it, pulled out his axe and cleaved its upper body, still convulsing, in two.

Max came to his feet, clutching his head. He was clearly still dazed.

The aspect flew at him out of nowhere, bowling him over again. He skid along the ground and was still.

"You are nothing!" the demon declared.

Another wave of darkspawn burst from the shadows. Genlocks, hurlocks, emissaries. Solana saw Max grit his teeth. He pushed down on the ground, rising an inch with what appeared to be tremendous difficulty.

A hurlock ran at Solana and she couldn't even scream. But Blackwall was still there. He blocked it with his sword. 

Max raised his left hand and a green streak of power shot from it.

As with the Pride Demon, emerald light blossomed over the Aspect's head and it was trapped by it, stunned. The hurlock fighting Blackwall exploded into nothing and Solana came free from her paralysis, gasping.

Max had collapsed again. The others were fighting off the remaining darkspawn. The spell wouldn't hold the Aspect for long.

"I'm sorry," she said to her stomach. She reached into her robes and pulled out the lyrium potion she'd stashed away.

One swig made the colours burn brighter. Lyrium connected mages to the Fade. Taking it when already in the fade… it was like the green mist swirling around her legs, the barriers the demon had thrown up, the bone sculptures surrounding them and even the rift itself was a part of her.

She drew energy inwards from the Fade around her for three long breathes. Then closed her eyes and pushed forward with her mind, with her hands, with her staff.

The magic lanced towards the Aspect, twisting and twirling and sparking like a storm. It hit it, covered it in a jet black cloud and then exploded outwards.

It left nothing in its wake. The demon was gone.

She fell to her knees. Hawke rushed to her side. She felt his healing magic brushing against her skin. "I'm fine."

"Guys…" Bull was looking back towards the cavern they'd come through, still clutching his axe in both hands. Darkspawn. More darkspawn were shambling towards them.

Hawke hauled Solana to her feet and pulled her towards the rift.

She wasn't sure where the others were. She was vaguely aware of Bull slinging Max's arm around his broad shoulders and half-walking, half-carrying the Inquisitor after them. Then her vision narrowed down to the rift, to freedom.

A tentacle burst through the ground in front of her.

It lashed out, hitting Hawke in the stomach and bowling her over. She looked up. And up. The broodmother. The demon had re-formed. Hawke was lying not far from her, curled in on himself. 

She reached for her staff, meeting the foul creature's eyes.

She heard the sounds of fighting behind her. The darkspawn had caught up with them. She didn't dare look.

"Go." Hawke choked. He was pulling himself up using his own staff. His one hand was still clutching his side. "I'll cover you."

"No."

She could see his staff digging into the ground with all of the weight he was resting on it. He was injured. He wouldn't last a minute.

"No, It's my duty. I'm the Grey Warden."

She got to her feet and ducked as another tentacle swiped at her head.

Don't think, just do. Just like old times, when her duty had asked the unthinkable from her. She didn't want to die, especially not now. But as Leliana always said, one life (two?) in exchange for Thedas? It wasn't a bad deal.

She swallowed, braced herself and charged.

Something bowled into her. It was hard and metal and smelled like sweat, and she didn't have a chance to take in what it was before it was pushing her back, back towards the rift, away from the broodmother.

"Go!"

Blackwall held his sword before him, before them. "Did you hear me?"

"Blackwall…"

"I said go!" he glanced at her, the green light of the rift playing across his face and his armour. "If you won't save yourself, save your baby."

"We don't even know if it's real."

"It doesn't matter. You're a better person than me –"

"That's not –"

"There's no time. Ask your spymaster. She'll tell you everything you need to know."

He charged forward, leaping over and around flailing tentacles.

The last image Solana saw before Hawke pulled her bodily through the rift was Blackwall jamming his sword hilt-deep into the broodmother's stomach.

Passing through the rift was like being hit by a small jolt of electricity.

One moment Solana was in the Fade, watching Blackwall's heroic efforts. Next thing, she was standing in the courtyard, surrounded by Inquisition soldiers fighting demons.

Max reached up with his hand and fisted it. The rift closed and every single demon instantly disappeared. 

There was a stunned pause, a ringing silence, the likes of which she could never remember hearing, and then she realised why. The Calling had stopped. Her mind was quiet.

Then the Inquisition soldiers were cheering and jumping and singing the praises of their Inquisitor, their hero.

Everything seemed a blur. It was a blur. Her eyes were brimming. She couldn't recall the last time she'd cried, but relief was tangling with grief into a mixture of painful emotions she couldn't quite contain. Hawke wrapped an arm around her waist and she thought he might have been leaning on her as much as she was leaning on him.

"Inquisitor," one of the soldiers stepped forward. "The archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons."

The gathered crowd parted slightly to allow one of the Wardens through. Cassey. Her black hair was matted, her cheek was grazed. There was soot across her forehead and collar and she was limping. She looked straight up at Solana."It would seem you are the senior surviving Grey Warden. Will you be leading us?"

The courtyard waited in silence. Solana didn't know what to say. She looked to Max. Surely it should be his decision? But he nodded to her.

She took a moment, gathering her words. When she spoke, she projected her voice out to the entire courtyard. "Blackwall gave his life to save us and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus. We need more men and women like him in the fight to come. Wardens willing to live and die by our vows. We might still be vulnerable to Corypheus, but we have a chance to still do some good at the Inquisition's side."

A few of the faces gathered before her seemed less than enthused by the idea of working side-by-side with people who they'd been trying to kill minutes before. Had she made the right choice?

A movement at the back of the courtyard caught her attention. Cullen had climbed up onto a scaffold and his soldiers were turning to him for orders. But it was clear from his face that he hadn't come up there to issue instructions. He'd come to see if it was true, if they were really back. If she was safe.

Their eyes locked for a moment before his attention was pulled away by his men.

"I should go speak to him," Max said, having also noticed the commander's entrance. He started past Solana, but she put a hand on his arm to halt him.

"You won't say anything about…"

He blinked at her, then seemed to realise what she meant. "No, of course not. That's between you two."

"I just want to be sure first."

He nodded. "Get some rest, Solana. We'll take care of things here."

Hawke pulled away from her. "I'd better go with him. Are you going to be okay?"

No. "Yes, fine."

As Hawke followed Max, she noted that he'd healed himself. His robes were still stained, but he was moving with ease.

Bull and Dorian disappeared into the crowd, and she was left with Cassey. The woman glared at her with big grey eyes.

"I…" Solana started. "I have so much to apologise for. I don't even know where to start."

"How much did you know before you lead us to her?" She asked, voice flat.

Solana's heart jolted. "Nothing. Almost nothing. I was hearing the Calling, but I didn't know the others were and… when she told me she wanted to summon the demon army I didn't know it had anything to do with Corypheus. Please believe me, I wouldn't have left you there if I'd known you might have been… I thought I'd be back with help within the week."

"Why did you hide who you were?"

"I didn't know how you'd react."

"Well, Derrik would have been star struck."

Despite her light comment, her voice was still strained. She was a shadow of the woman who'd rescued Solana in that forest all those months ago. There was something steely about her now, the kind of steel that was born of heartbreak.

Solana reached into a pocket. "Here I…" she pulled out Falin's ring and handed it to Cassey. "I kept this for you."

Cassey's eyes widened as she stared at the small silver ring in the centre of her palm. "Where did you get this?"

She looked up, gaze meeting Solana's. Solana didn't have to speak.

"I see."

"He was beyond helping," she said. "His mind had been taken. If I'd thought there was a chance…"

"He wouldn't have wanted that. He treasured his mind more than anything." Cassey gazed down at the ring. "That's how we met, you know? I don't think I ever told you about our lives before. He was in the library. Always studying. Writing essays on forms of magic, on corruption. Essays that would never be published, he was an elf and a mage. He didn't care. The knowledge was its own gift, he'd say. He'd have me look through hundreds of books for one tiny relevant sentence. I hated it, but I stayed for his company. It was the only way I could get close to him. I think I was more of a burden than anything. The tranquil were so much better at research than I was. Neither of us would have chosen to leave the Circle, if we'd been given the choice. Although if we hadn't left, I don't know that he ever would have told me how he felt." She swallowed, eyes still locked on the ring.

"I'm so sorry," Solana said. What more could she say?

"Do you think…" Cassey swallowed again. "Do you think it would be okay if I go travel for a bit?"

"Of course," Solana said. Her insides were twisting at the familiarity of the words. "Take as long as you need."

Chapter Text

The journey back to Skyhold passed in a blur.

Solana kept to herself. She grieved for Blackwall and she worried about everything the demon had said.

No one bothered her. Physically going into the Fade wasn't something one just shook off. Their entire party was subdued, and the Inquisition left them well alone to process what they'd been through.

By the time they got back to the mountain fortress, Solana at least had a plan.

She doubted herself, even as she ascended the wooden staircase, the sound of the bard strumming filtering up from below.

"Cole?" The boy peered at her from his usual corner. "Cole, I need to ask you a favour."

"I like to help," he said.

How to even phrase this? "You… you can sense people, can't you?"

He stared at her. She could just make out his big blue orb-eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

Her heart was drumming and her throat constricted. "I need your help… I was told, in the Fade that I… well…" she swallowed. Why was it so difficult to say? She was balancing on a knife edge between joy and disappointment and even now she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted the answer to be.

What if the demon had been right? What if the child was tainted? What if she'd somehow damaged it with her potions and magic? Should she be hoping for it to be real knowing those things were possible?

"Two," Cole said.

She blinked at him.

"You were going to ask me how many people I sensed standing there." He pointed at her. "Two."

She looked behind her to double check. "Two. Me and…"

"You and the little seed." His eyes narrowed. He looked at her stomach with such intensity that she could truly believe he was looking right into her womb. She stood frozen, frightened of what that look meant, what he might say next.

"Although, it is more of a lime size now," he said. "It was more like a seed the last time I saw you."

The last time… "How long have you known?"

"Since the start. I told him to be strong but he mistook my meaning. Will you tell him now?"

She nodded. "I want to."

The idea terrified her. But he needed to know soon. He needed to know from her before the Skyhold grapevine got hold of the news.

"He's in his office," Cole said, with a far-off look in his eyes. "You should go before he decides to do more drills. He likes doing drills when he's bored but the men don't want that yet. They want to be home."

Solana vacillated between excitement and nausea the whole way up to Cullen's office. Cullen liked things to be orderly, under his control.

She paused on the stairs and closed her eyes. Skyhold was full of people who could help her, she'd say. He needn't worry about it. She was informing him out of duty.

No, no that was too cold.

She moved forward again, running through a dozen other ways to break the news. Finally, she was at the door to his office. A recruit passed her on the way out and gave her a nod in greeting.

Cullen was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His brow was knitted. The light streamed in from that hole in the roof that he still hadn't had repaired. It caught his hair and his surcoat and fell in a golden pool over his inkwell and part of his parchment. He frowned, crossed something out.

She cleared her throat.

He looked up, startled.

"Do you have time to talk?" she asked.

He pushed his chair back and stood. "For you? Always."

She moved into the room, being sure to close the door. He stayed behind his desk, watching her curiously.

"I have something to tell you," she started. She didn't know where to look, how to begin. Couldn't he just guess as Cole had? But he remained silent, waiting for her. "I discovered something in the Fade."

The air around her seemed to grow hot and thin. She managed a glance at him. He was frowning, his brown eyes narrowed in concern. Something in her look – perhaps how quick it was, how she struggled to hold his gaze, must have given a clue to her revelation because he asked softly, "Something to do with us?"

Her heart slammed in her chest. "I'd say so, yes."

"You know you can't trust what you see in the F – "

"I'm pregnant."

A beat passed. There was nothing. No expression, no movement. It was as if Cullen was trapped in the Nightmare's paralysis spell. Then he came slowly around his desk. "Is it my – "

"Yes, of course it's yours."

He was standing within arm's reach now. "You're certain?" He blinked. "Not about the – I mean the Fade is not exactly a place of certainty."

"I just spoke to Cole." She looked down at her stomach. "He said it's a little seed."

When she looked up again it was to find Cullen staring at her middle. From the look on his face, she may well have transformed into Andraste herself.

"I don't know what this means," she said. "I don't know any other Wardens who've had families. I didn't even know that I could."

"Is it in danger? Your blood… blight sickness."

"I don't know."

He turned from her and paced away, running a hand through his hair.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I understand this is a shock. You need some time to –"

"Marry me."

Her insides jolted. "What?"

He turned back to her. "Marry me. Right now. In the Chantry downstairs. We can ask Mother Giselle - "

"Cullen, I'm not going to marry you just so your child isn't a bastard, I understand this is -"

"No," he shook his head. "That's not what I –" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That's not why." When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze stopped her breath. "You know that's not why," he said, voice low and gravelly.

"What else has change?"

"Everything." He closed the space between them in two steps, reaching to cup her face in a calloused hand. "Everything has changed, Solana. I've changed. I was a coward. I thought I was being strong by pushing you away, I thought I was protecting you. I thought…" something seemed to stick in his throat. "I thought that I was protecting myself from the pain of losing you to the Calling. But when I saw… when I saw that dragon and…" his voice caught again. His eyes were exploring her face as if trying to memorize every detail and she was surprised to see them shining with emotion. "I know we might have limited time, but it made me realise… I don't want to be without you for one moment longer than I have to."

She was struck speechless, gazing up into his face. He smelled of leather and mint and salvation. Her heart felt like that spirit, glowing brighter and brighter, ready to explode.

He shut his eyes again. "I apologise. I sound like a fool."

"No," she said quickly, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned in to her touch.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I've been trying to find the courage to say that to you since you stepped out of that rift."

His cheek was rough with stubble and his skin was warm. She traced his cheekbones, the scar over his mouth. He breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling, the fur edging of his surcoat caught the gold of the morning sun.

"I want to be there for you, Solana," he said softly. "For both of you."

His hand covered hers. His eyes opened and in them she could see that same golden light, but shining outward. A look reserved just for her. He leaned in to her, maddeningly slowly.

He paused with his lips inches from hers. "Tell me you want that too?"

"I do."

And he kissed her.

Heat rushed from the point of contact over her entire body, prickling her skin, weakening her limbs. Everything else in her life, in that room, time itself, stood still. There was only him and the taste of his lips and his hand at the back of her neck. She was at once aware of just how long she'd wanted this, how long she'd been craving it.

He pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss. Desire coiled hot in her belly and she wanted more, she wanted everything. Her fingers found his belt buckle.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss. He was panting, staring down at her.

Was she going too far?

As if in answer, he reached around to unhook the clasp at the back of her neck. He kissed her forehead, and her cheek and her jaw as he slowly worried loose the buttons that marched down the back of her robes. His warm fingers caressed the revealed skin, moving in small circles down the length of her spine, while his lips explored the tender flesh of her throat. She moaned his name and heard him draw a sharp breath in response.

He drew her into his arms again, mouth finally moving back to her lips. He walked her backwards while they kissed and lifted her onto his desk. She heard the inkwell tip, roll, clatter to the ground. He didn't even break away to look at the damage and she didn't care. All that mattered was him. She found the buckle again.

He peeled her robes from her shoulders, marking her skin with burning kisses as she unlaced his breeches.

Suddenly, he stopped.

He pulled away to look at her face, his brow creased. "Is this okay? I mean it's not going to hurt the…"

She resisted the urge to laugh when she realised what he meant. His concern filled her with warmth. "No, this is okay."

"Good."

He parted her knees and pressed close. He didn't pull away again for a long while.

They lay on the carpet, wrapped in each other and basking in the pool of sunlight.

They'd been touching and kissing and lightly teasing, coming down from the high of their earlier activities. Thankfully Cullen's men knew better than to enter his office when the door was closed, otherwise they might have been in for quite the eyeful. Solana giggled at the thought and Cullen looked at her, "What?"

She ran a finger along his lower lip. It was pink from her kisses, but there was also a smudge of ink just left of centre. "Nothing."

He seemed sceptical. He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Now, that's not fair."

There was ink on his hand too. His elbow was one big black patch. She didn't want to know what her back looked like.

She rolled onto it, staring up at the sky above his loft. She could see hints of blue, it was a beautiful day outside, unusually temperate. "You realise, my room is just across the way."

"So?"

"So, it's a little more private than your office." She examined her left hand, also covered in dark ink. "Less messy too."

He chuckled. "But that would have involved making it all the way across the ramparts without tearing your clothes off. I doubt I could have managed."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat he gave off, the feeling of his firm body against hers. She nuzzled his neck. This was… this was happiness. She felt safe and warm and protected. Cocooned in his arms, she felt like nothing could hurt her. No Calling, no taint, no Corypheus. Every worry she'd ever had, all of her grief, it was far away. It belonged to another world, a world outside of their little beam of light.

"Let's do it," she said.

"I was under the impression we just had," he said with a smile that showed his dimples.

She propped herself up on an elbow. His eyes were closed, but when she didn't speak, he looked at her through narrow slits. "We'd have to put our clothes on again to get to your room. Might I suggest we go upstairs instead?"

"Tempting." She traced a finger down the scar on his chest. "But that's not what I meant."

His brow puckered in puzzlement, then his eyes snapped open. He shifted so he was looking at her with his full attention.

"Let's do it," she repeated. "Now, in the Chantry."

"You're serious?"

She nodded. He was searching her face. She wondered what he expected to find there. Doubt, perhaps. But there was no doubt, just giddy excitement.

He sat up, eyes still locked on her.

"Do you still want – "

"Yes," he said, without hesitation. "Yes, absolutely, yes." His eyes still hadn't left her. "You're certain? Now. In the Chantry?"

She bit her lip and nodded, then looked at her hand again. "Well, maybe in a few minutes. I should probably wash, find a clean robe."

He grinned and it was all she could do not to laugh at that expression lighting her commander's face. A proper, full smile, eyes creasing at the corners, teeth flashing. It was the kind of expression that would have been more at home on the Inquisitor's face and it made him look heart-achingly beautiful.

"Alright," he said. "Half an hour, shall we say? Should we meet there?"

She nodded, heart soaring.

Chapter Text

Cullen wasn't there.

Solana paced the small room again. Dust was dancing in the sun beams flooding through the tall window behind the statue of Andraste.

She was trying not to worry. Perhaps she'd taken too long getting ready? It had taken her an age to scrub the ink from her hands and back, and she'd been unable to get it out of her hair. In the end, she'd dried her hair as best she could and tied it into one of the complicated knots Leliana had shown her years before. She was wearing a set of clean robes. They were light blue, the closest she could find to white.

She shouldn't have stopped to pick the flowers. But when she'd seen their bright petals she'd been unable to resist. Now she fidgeted with them. She'd taken too long. He'd come here, found her absent, and thought she had changed her mind.

Or else, he had changed his mind.

She'd been waiting for ten minutes, pacing back and forth beneath Andraste's marble arms. He had proposed in the passion of a moment, in panic at her condition. Maybe now he'd had time to think better of it?

Or perhaps something else had waylaid him? Perhaps urgent work had come up that he couldn't ignore? Perhaps someone had attacked and she didn't even know. Perhaps someone had attacked him.

Clattering footsteps snapped her attention to the door. Her heart was pounding.

Cullen burst in, flushed and panting. He stilled when he saw her, mouth dropping slightly open.

"Sorry… I…" He took a deep breath. "I couldn't find…" he cleared his throat.

Solana heard an irritated voice outside. Cullen turned as the originator came in. Mother Giselle was tutting and shaking her head. "I do not see how my presence would be so urgent. I am, after all, a simple servant of –"

She stopped, taking in Solana. Her eyes moved between the two.

"Commander?"

"You didn't tell her?" Solana asked, caught between amusement and mortification.

"I um…" he scratched the back of his neck. His expression looked pained. "I didn't want the rest of the hall to hear."

"He informed me he required a guided prayer," the Revered Mother said. "Am I to assume this is not the case?"

"I apologise for the misdirection," he said, earnestly. "It is not far from the truth."

"We want to get married," Solana provided. "We'd like you to marry us."

Mother Giselle moved further into the room. She seemed to drift more than walk. "I would have thought that the Hero of Ferelden and the Commander of the Inquisition forces would have something grand? It does seem a missed opportunity. In times like these, happy occasions are few."

She made a good point. Josephine would probably kill them.

"We don't like fuss," Cullen provided. "If word got out of our… engagement. Well, I doubt we'd be permitted to do this quietly."

That was also true. They'd be mobbed. The ceremony would become an event. She'd probably have to wear one of those Orlesian contraptions. She could imagine nothing worse than being the centre of that kind of attention. They'd probably even have to have dance lessons. And dance. In front of an entire hall of people.

She nodded. "We want it like this. Just us."

The revered mother smiled benignly. "I'm afraid that is not possible."

What?

Cullen's eyebrows drew together. "How come?"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Well," Giselle said. "You need a witness."

"Maker's breath," Cullen cursed.

Mother Giselle's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected blasphemy, especially considering where they were standing. And the fact that it was Cullen. He was possibly her most devout follower.

"Hold on." He marched to the door and slammed it open, sticking his head out into the garden. "Scout Jim! Come here a minute?"

He stood aside as the bashful young scout entered. He was clutching a clipboard. "Sir?"

"This will only take a minute." Cullen strode to Solana's side, taking her hands in his.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't…"

"Take a seat," he instructed.

Solana watched the boy slide meekly into one of the pews. Then her full attention was on the man in front of her. He still had a smudge of ink below his ear. His eyes were shining and he smiled softly.

"You look lovely, by the way. I should have said before, sorry."

She felt colour rising to her cheeks. "Are the flowers too much?"

She'd stuck them into her hair, in a festive wreath. She had no idea how it looked and she was at once self-conscious. It wasn't exactly traditional. He shook his head. "No. You… you're perfect."

Mother Giselle moved to stand before them, at Andraste's feet. "Do you have rings to exchange?"

Rings. She hadn't even thought of rings. "No –"

"Yes." Cullen reached into a pocket and withdrew a small, wooden box. "The other reason I was delayed," he said to her with a lop-sided smile. "I'm afraid they're not much." He fumbled with the box. "I will get a proper ring for you. I just asked Seggrit for whatever he had available. The basta– the scoundrel charged me twenty pieces for these. I think he smelled my desperation."

Cullen presented her with a plain silver ring, that she was to give to him.

He cleared his throat. "If you… if you'd like me to give you that ring, I could? I mean you're used to wearing it. I wouldn't be offended or…"

It took her a moment to realise he was talking about her Warden ring. "No." she said, possibly too sharply. She'd completely forgotten about it. She slipped it from her finger and into her pocket.

He released a breath and glanced at Mother Giselle.

She nodded. "Very well." She rolled her shoulders back and Cullen took Solana's hands in his again.

"The Maker said," Mother Giselle intoned. "To you, my second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, and to the Fade you shall return each night in dreams that you may always remember Me. And then the Maker sealed the gates of the Golden City and there, he dwelled, waiting to see the wonders his children would create. Threnodies five."

Cullens grip tightened on Solana's hands and he smiled that full smile again. She grinned back at him, her heart fluttering.

"The Chant teaches us that the Maker gave us passion so that we might build and create. The union of two lives, bound in love, is the epitome of this passion. Few things in this world are more sacred or more joyous to witness. Here, before the Maker and his bride, Andraste, will you, Solana Amell, Hero of Ferelden and Grey Warden, pledge yourself to Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford?

Solana nodded. She hadn't gotten as far as thinking about vows. Her chest was so full of warmth and wonder she didn't know if she could trust herself to speak.

"Cullen…" A good start. Deep breath. "You have watched over me and protected me. You have been through… trials of fire and despite this are the kindest and most honourable man I know. I swear, under the Maker and Holy Andraste, to share your burdens, to protect you and watch over you and to guard you from harm as long as I live."

He was staring at her and she wanted to ask him if what she'd said was okay. But he cleared his throat again.

"I, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, pledge myself to this woman, Solana Amell, with my entire heart and soul. I have known since the moment I first laid eyes on her, that I wanted to love and guard her for all of my days. I swear, under the Maker and Holy Andraste, that she will never want for anything, that she will never know pain or discomfort as long as it is in my power to prevent it, and that I will treasure her, that I will be her shield and her sword for as long as I live."

The wave of emotion that his words brought was like a physical force. She had to close her eyes to find her bearing. It would be easy to believe that some sort of spirit had come into the room, had sealed their union. Every part of her felt warm and at peace.

"You may exchange rings," Mother Giselle said. "The rings symbolise your eternal love, the bond you share from this day forward."

Solana went first, slipping the ring Cullen had passed her moments before onto his finger. He was trying to be serious, but the corners of his mouth were betraying him again. She loved that expression, those moments when the carefully controlled exterior was overwhelmed by his true self. He could never be the kind of cold soldier many Templars were. He felt too deeply, he cared too much. And she wouldn't have changed that for the world. He took her hand in his and withdrew the ring he'd purchased for her. It was a thin silver band with runes etched across it. She recognised it as some sort of ring of power. Ordinary wedding rings didn't have etchings. She wanted to ask him what the enchantment was, but she dared not interrupt the ceremony.

"Congratulations." Mother Giselle smiled serenely. "Under the eyes of the Maker, you are now husband and wife."

Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss.

Her heart was thrumming so fast it felt like she had a bird trapped in her chest, flapping its wings. When their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," she said.

"And I love you," he responded and he laughed softly and she knew without asking that it wasn't out of amusement. It was an unguarded moment of sincere joy.

She wanted to stand like that forever, wrapped gently in his arms with their faces close, but life had other demands. He pulled away with a happy sigh.

Jim rose from his seat, still blushing, and requested permission to leave. Which Cullen granted, without looking at him, eyes still gazing down at Salana.

"You realise the whole of Skyhold will know within the hour?" she asked him.

"Jim's one of Leliana's scouts. He can keep a secret."

"You didn't tell him it was a secret."

"Didn't I?" He seemed unconcerned. In fact, his smile broadened.

Cullen was due to inspect the barracks and then had some evening sparring to oversee. They parted ways reluctantly, agreeing to meet in the courtyard and take the evening meal together. They had yet to discuss sleeping arrangements, but Solana already knew they'd both be living in her room. It was bigger, and, after all the work he'd put in to making it ready for her, she wasn't about to give it up.

She hummed a tune as she made her way up there, picking flowers out of her hair and absently scattering them on the stairs in a bright trail.

She was so caught up in reminiscing about the last few hours that she didn't notice the dark figure lurking in the corner of her room until it spoke.

"When were you planning to tell me?"

Solana jumped, hand flying to her heart. "Leliana! You can't just do that!"

The spymaster minced into the centre of the room, staring at Solana accusingly. She'd expected the news to travel fast. Just not that fast.

"I was planning on telling you. Soon. It wasn't that I chose not to tell you. No one knows yet."

"Hawke knows," she said. She turned to examine one of the paintings on the wall with false nonchalance "And Dorian."

How in the Void did they know already?

"I… I didn't plan it that way. It was spontaneous."

Leliana turned and eyed her quizzically. "What precisely are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're… you're…" she splattered, an echo of her younger self. "You're with child."

Oh yes, that.

"I didn't tell Hawke and Dorian. They were there when I found out. The demon told me. In the Fade."

She could already see that Leliana was opening her mouth to protest about the likely legitimacy of a demon revealing anything truthful.

"I've confirmed it."

Leliana's eyes darted down to the floor. "How did the Commander take the news?"

"Well. Very well." There was no point in dancing around the truth. Leliana would find out from her scout if Solana didn't tell her now. She held up her hand. Leliana looked puzzled for a fraction of a second, then she squinted at the ring and moved forward, taking Solana's hand as if in a daze.

"That's not the ring you were wearing before."

"No."

Her eyes moved up to meet Solana's. "Did he make you do this? For his reputation?"

Solana almost started laughing at her friend's concern. "Can you honestly imagine anyone making me do such a thing against my will?"

"But he's so… so… serious."

Solana perched on the edge of the bed. "I was under the impression that you two were getting along?"

"I get along with everyone, you should know that," the spymaster said with a sly smile as she leaned against the bed post.

"You don't stay up drinking with everyone." Cullen never had answered her about what had driven him to spend their last night in Halamshiral trying to match Leliana drink for drink.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering when you'd ask for those details."

"And?"

"And my lips are sealed."

"Come on!"

"Nothing scandalous, don't worry."

Solana pouted, but more in play than out of actual upset. She couldn't imagine Cullen doing anything even vaguely scandalous. "Just how drunk was he?"

"Very."

"You're a tease."

Leliana smirked and looked up at the ceiling. "Let's just say he made his feelings for you very clear. Very many times."

"Really?"

Leliana tried for a Ferelden accent. "I love that woman," she said in a slur. "Maker, I love her." Still slurring, she raised an invisible glass. "Have you ever noticed the way the light catches her hair? Did you know, it has gold in it? Maker, she's beautiful, isn't she?"

Solana covered her face with her hands as her body trembled with laughter. "He didn't honestly?"

"Oh yes."

"Please tell me no one else was around?"

"Just us. We scared Morrigan off."

If anything could damper a mood, it was that name. In everything else that had happened, Solana had almost forgotten about the witch. "How is she? Have you spoken to her?"

Leliana shrugged. "Now and then. She's made herself at home in a small room off the garden. She spends most of her time locked up in there working on a project she believes is secret. I'm keeping an eye on it. Some artifact she brought from the palace. Doesn't seem too dangerous, yet."

"But knowing her, it probably will be."

Leliana chuckled. "Do you remember that time you gave her an amulet shaped like a demon because none of us wanted to touch it? She was genuinely delighted."

"Wynne was horrified. She was convinced she'd use it in some dark ritual."

"She probably did."

Silence fell between them. It would have been comfortable, but for the way Leliana was looking at her feet, her eyebrows drawn together.

"Solana…" she paused. Now she was fidgeting with her hood.

Solana's back straightened automatically. "What's wrong?"

The spymaster looked at her, for an instant her eyes large and sad. She was a Leliana from a different time. Then she smiled softly and shook her head. "I was just thinking. Josie's going to kill you when she finds out. You know that, don't you?"

"All right, so we go in together?" Cullen asked.

Solana rubbed her arms. Even after such a warm day, Skyhold was exceptionally cold after sunset. She should have worn something warmer. He'd have removed his surcoat and draped it around her shoulders, only they were already in the midst of debating how public they should be with their affection.

"Yes, I don't see why not," she said.

He glanced at the door to the main hall where the Inquisition dined every night. They were a little late already. His drills had gone over time.

He resisted the urge to scratch at his neck. "There are probably rumours already," he agreed. "There's no reason for us to pretend."

She nodded. "Should I take your arm, or your hand…"

"That would make a statement."

"Nothing wrong with a statement."

"Although it could lead to questions." Those who hadn't heard the rumours would be intrigued, and that could be inconvenient. Cullen just wanted a nice peaceful meal with his new wife. If they made it too obvious that would become an impossibility.

"Right, so no hands then. We just go in together?"

"Yes. Together." If they stood debating any longer, he was certain she would freeze.

With a deep breath, and a last look at the lovely woman beside him, he pushed open the main doors.

They walked in together. The room was warm and smoky from the braziers. The Inquisitor's throne glinted in the orange light of the candles. There was a roaring chatter as people packed along benches reached over each other to grab food or drink.

Then everything stopped. All at once, as if a spell had been cast.

Cullen stood frozen in the doorway. He reached automatically for Solana, heart slamming in his chest.

Then everyone started to cheer. The entire room erupted into applause and whoops. He saw Varric standing on a bench, waving. Cassandra smiled and shook her head across from him. Even people Cullen didn't know, had never met, were punching the air.

Why? What had happened? Why were they looking at him? Solana started laughing and leaned in to him while he stood there stunned.

A flash of gold from the end of one of the tables alerted him to Josephine's approach. She was clutching her clipboard, hurrying towards them, shaking her head. When she came within striking distance, she stopped abruptly.

"You might have given me more notice."

"Sorry," Solana said, Cullen glanced at her. Was this her doing?

"This might have been a… a grand ball or a festival. An Inquisition festival, imagine! With every noble in all of Thedas squabbling for an invitation. We could have secured so many alliances."

Solana's hand slipped into his. "Which would be why we didn't tell you." She was smiling brightly and he thought he might have just fallen in love with her all over again.

"Who did tell you, by the way?" she asked the ambassador.

Josephine sighed. "Mother Giselle came to speak with me. It seems she was concerned I might ruin your moment with my own complaints… which I suppose is not too far from the truth. I apologise. I… I didn't have much time to organise. The food is nothing special, but there will be blackberry pie for dessert. Your friend Celeste seemed to think it was significant. And the Inquisitor has arranged for some fine wine. Varric has kept you a seat. I wanted to put you at the head of the table, but he insisted."

"Thank you, Josie," Cullen finally spoke. She blinked at his use of the nickname and he thought perhaps he'd made a mistake. Was he being overly familiar? He'd merely sought to appear friendly. Then the ambassador grinned.

"Right this way," she lead them to their seats. Someone had replaced the usual ale mugs with chalices, worthy of a wedding. Varric was seated across from them, with Hawke at his side. Celeste was squeezed in between Hawke and Bull and she waved, beaming. The Inquisitor shifted closer to Cassandra to make more space for them. Dorian, on her other side, raised a glass.

Cullen didn't often take the evening meal with the others. His work kept him at his desk late. But this was… nice.

Varric stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, Curly." He gave him a wink.

"You should make a toast!" Josephine said, sliding onto the bench beside him.

"Come now, Ruffles. Have you not punished the poor man enough?" Varric chastised her.

"I…" She glanced between Varric and Cullen. "I just thought it might be nice."

"I'll do the toast," Trevelyan said. He grabbed a bottle from the centre of the table and held it up above their heads. "To my trusted Commander and his beautiful new bride. May your lives together be a fantastic adventure filled with endless love."

Everyone else nearby raised their glasses, shouting a chorus of hear hears and congratulations and to the happy couple.

Josephine managed to pull a bottle opener from somewhere and handed it to the Inquisitor.

"This is supposedly quite good," he said as he untwisted the cork. "It's very old."

He divvied it out between the mugs, steins and glasses. Solana halted him when he came to her chalice. "None for me, thanks."

Varric chuckled as he swirled his drink, letting the ancient wine air. "A rushed wedding and sudden sobriety, people will talk."

Hawke choked on his drink. He was completely unaware of the glare that Bull shot him as he coughed and spluttered. Dorian packed up laughing. Solana turned scarlet.

Cullen was pretty sure the colour in his cheeks was no better.

Varric was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Wine. Strong." Hawke said between gasps for air.

Max was looking down into his mug, oblivious. "Yes, I think it does need to sit a while. I apologise."

Cullen caught Celeste looking from one to the other of them, until her gaze finally settled on Solana. She tilted her head as if in question. Solana offered her a small smile and drew a little closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around his wife. Let them find out. There wouldn't be any hiding it for much longer. Let them all know, he didn't care. This morning when he'd woken up, he had been alone. Now he had a family. Let them talk and let them judge. Nothing could ruin this feeling, this moment. Her body pressed close to his, their child safe within her.

Celeste crept down to the old enchanter's library.

The sounds of celebration still echoed off the walls. She liked this place. It was dusty and small, but hardly anyone ever came down here. And there were so many books with so much knowledge that hadn't been available in the Circle library.

She'd been in the middle of writing a letter when Josephine had run in to tell her the news of the marriage and the parchment was still out. She hoped Ren would be able to decipher her spidery scrawl. His handwriting was getting better. The last two letters she'd received from him were arguably in a better hand than hers. Jenine was doing a good job teaching the boy. One day, she'd make it up to her. But for now she had other duties. She set the half-finished letter to her son aside and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

On it, she wrote two lines.

"She's with child.

Now will you come?"

She signed it only C, then folded it up small and shoved it into her apron pocket. If she set off now, she could make it to the inn and back before dawn.

They had a man who came for post twice a week. It was slower than sending mail through the Inquisition, but it was the only way to keep anything from Lady Nightingale's eyes.

END OF PART ONE

Chapter Text

3 Kingsway 9:41 Dragon

Dearest Mia,

I apologise for again for the delay in correspondence. I have meant to write. The last few months have been uniquely challenging, but I am enjoying my position in the Inquisition. Also, I am alive. (You requested that I let you know as much, again I apologise for not doing so sooner).

I write to you with a particular piece of news. I expect you will be angry, but I hope you will also be glad for me. I have found a taken a wife married. Her name is Solana and she makes me very happy.

I would have invited you and the rest of the family to the wedding, of course, had we had one. We chose to have a private ceremony in the Inquisition’s small Chantry with no one but a Reverend Mother and a single witness present.

Since you could not attend the wedding, I was hoping you (and the rest of the family) might come call on me us at Skyhold? I understand it is a long journey, but the roads are not as perilous as they used to be. Our soldiers have seen to it. If you’d prefer, the Inquisitor has granted me permission to send an escort? In fact, it was his idea that you visit. That’s not to say I don’t want you here. I do. Maker, it will be easier to talk in person.

I look forward to your response.

Your loving brother,

Cullen

P.S. I have other news I’d rather share when you are here. But if you are unable to visit, or have finally lost patience with me... Please let me know if you are unable to visit, and I will convey it in writing.

___________________________

“You know she’s going to look like a melon by the time they get here?” Leliana raised her eyes from the letter.

Cullen huffed. “The least you could do is pretend you don’t read my mail.”

Leliana had called him up to her tower on “urgent” business. Which, apparently, was to discuss his correspondence with his family. Little did she know, it had taken him almost a month to get the words down. He didn’t need someone interrogating those words them at this stage.

The spymaster refolded the letter. “You honestly think it will be easier to explain in person? This is you we’re talking about, Commander.”

“Well, as you so kindly pointed out, I will not need to explain anything. Her condition will be self-evident.”

“You don’t think that’s being a little unfair to her?”

He folded his arms, ashamed to admit he hadn’t considered that. Solana was comfortable in her pregnancy. She certainly never acted as if it embarrassed her. He’d heard that women glowed when with child, he had never believed it. But she really did. She was only recently showing, a bump that could have been hidden by loose-fitting robes if she’d wished. Yet, she carried that bump with pride, holding it and caressing it as she went about her day.

“I don’t want them to think that is the reason I married her.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not.” He paced away, arms still folded. A nearby raven eyed him suspiciously from its perch. “Granted, it may have given me the impetus to propose when I did. Maker knows if I would have gotten the words out otherwise, but I don’t want Mia to think that I was somehow forced into this, that it was anything but what I truly desired.”

“So, say that.”

“I tried!” He rounded on her. “I’ve tried to construct a letter that truly explains all that’s happened, and all that I feel but it reads hollow. It reads like I’m some overly defensive child who’s been caught doing wrong. If they can only see her, see us together, they’ll know that’s not the case.”

Leliana’s look softened. “Have you considered asking Varric for assistance?”

“If I write a letter using Varric’s words, they’ll think I’ve been kidnapped and someone’s luring them here under false pretenses.”

“A fair point.” Leliana sighed and carefully reapplied the seal on the letter while he watched.

“I should add that she plays chess.” He reached for the letter, but Leliana swatted his hand away.

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