Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ember needed to find a way out. She slouched in her seat, trying to appear bored as she planned exactly how to escape. The droning, monotone voice of the man speaking in the center of the room had gone on for what felt like centuries - which gave her plenty of time to work out every possibility. And plenty of time for her handlers to lower their guard as they were interested in the topic of conversation even less than she was.

The debate over what was to be done about the war between mages and templars had been going on for days. Leaders from both factions had been summoned to the Temple of Sacred Ashes in Ferelden to attend a Conclave held by none other than Divine Justinia herself. Hours upon hours of people arguing and yelling and pleading.

She wasn't there as any type of authority - she was neither mage nor templar. She was the youngest child of a Bann that resided across the Waking Sea in the Free Marches, but her house was one deeply involved in Chantry business and politics. Her father had seen it as a way for his disgraced daughter to finally show her worth to him and she could only assume he’d paid handsomely to ensure her attendance.

The men he'd hired to keep watch over her had been doing their job well. They rarely let her out of their sight and her arms were covered in bruises from their firm grips whenever she tried to steer a conversation in a way that wasn't favorable. If she didn't have to look the part of a noblewoman, she was certain they would've put her in chains.

Glancing casually to her right, she had to swallow her excitement when she saw one of the men was fully asleep, chin pressed against his chest. She shifted in her seat and saw the other staring straight ahead at the lecturing man, but his eyes were glazed and she was certain he wouldn’t be able to fight off sleep for much longer. She sent a silent prayer to the Maker that the man's lecture would continue long enough for her to escape notice for a time.

Remaining as calm as possible, she waited for the second handler to drift off. She shifted in her chair as a test, but there was no response from either guard. Carefully, she slid out of the seat, and immediately moved into the shadows. Someday she'd have to send a letter of thanks to the Divine for choosing to host the event in an old Ferelden temple full of dark corners and empty rooms.

She made herself walk slowly, serenely, as if nothing was wrong or out of place, as she moved towards the quarters that had been assigned to her. She inclined her head with a slight smile to those she passed as she went, keeping her face hidden as well as she could. But as soon as the door to the room was closed, her movements became quick and practiced. She tugged at the lacing of the dress she wore with one hand, the other pulling off the jewelry at her throat and wrists. Gaudy and ostentatious pieces that she tossed aside without thought - they were trappings she had no need for. All she needed was to get out of the Temple without being caught.

Everything she'd arrived on the mountain with had been locked away. Standing in her underclothes, she undid the pins that held up her pitch black hair, letting the wavy locks fall down her back and kneeling in front of a chest by the bed. Carefully, she began picking the lock with her hairpin, listening for the clicks as well as any potential visitors. A hum of triumph sounded in her throat when the chest and she pushed up the lid to reveal her items.

She dressed quickly in plain, nondescript travelling clothes - comfortable but far from thick enough to ward off the cold of a snowy Ferelden mountain. Impatient, she grabbed one of her handlers scouting coats that had been left behind and bundled herself into it. She pulled up the hood and wrapped a scarf around the lower half of her face before turning to stare at herself in the mirror, assessing. The kohl that surrounded her eyes made the blue hue of them stand out, but she didn’t have time to wash her face. She grabbed her daggers and tools and hurried out of the room, leaving the mess behind.

Dressed as she was, she walked with purpose and confidence, as if she belonged in the hallways of the temple as someone nondescript and unimportant. No one bothered her, no one even glanced at her, as she made her way through the temple halls. She'd heard that a small village was settled down the mountain path, a place called Haven. Her goal was to get there without freezing to death and see about stealing some sort of steed to get her somewhere preferably warmer where she could figure out how best to kill the man that had betrayed her.

"This place is unnecessarily large," she muttered to herself as she opened a door and peeked inside, finding yet another set of prayer rooms. She needed to find the kitchens - there was always a way outside from the kitchens. And the longer it took her to find, the higher chance one of the hired men would notice her and drag her back. There'd probably be chains involved at that point.

She pulled down the scarf to free her nose, using her sense of smell to lead her. Down multiple flights of stairs, in the belly of the temple, she finally caught the scent of roasting meat and the sounds of servants hard at work. She let out a relieved breath and started towards the kitchens, her escape nearly complete, when she heard a woman scream.

The sound was faint - if she hadn’t been listening for any hint of her handlers on her tail, she would have missed it. Frowning, she glanced down the hall towards a set of double-doors. There was no one around, no one else that could have heard. She shook her head, wondering if she had imagined it.

But then a call for help came from the same direction.

She hesitated a moment and then sighed, turning on her heel. “Maker’s balls,” she cursed, pushing her hood back and hurrying down the hall. She put one hand on the hilt of a dagger and used the other to push into the room, ready to fight. "What's going on here?"

And then the world went black.
–----------------------------

Ember’s entire body ached. She felt as if she’d been tossed against a cliff for hours by wind or waves. As she emerged from the inky blackness of being unconscious, she realized she was kneeling on a hard, cold stone floor. She tried to shift and offer relief to her knees, but found she couldn’t move as much as she expected to be able to. Opening her eyes, she stared down in blurred confusion at her hands, wondering why they were locked in manacles.

Before she could look around to see where she was, the palm of her left hand suddenly flashed with a bright green, crackling energy that shot a dull ache up her arm and made her wince. She was so focused on whatever was happening to her hand that she barely registered the two women that entered the room she was in. One approached her while the other stayed back in the shadows.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” the taller woman with the short dark hair and hard stare said in a Nevarran accent. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

Ember shook her head, both in denial and to try to clear the fog and pain from her brain. She had no idea what was happening, or where she was. But she knew that whatever had occurred, she was obviously being blamed for it. “You think I’m responsible.”

With a scowl, the woman grabbed her hand. “Explain this!” she insisted as the green flared again.

“I can’t.” The pain made it hard to focus, hard to remember.

The woman didn’t seem to believe her. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Being yelled at wasn’t helping the pounding in her head. “I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.”

“You’re lying!” And then her sword was drawn and she was grabbing Ember by the shirt and pulling her up, anger plain on her face.

The redheaded woman stepped out of the shadows. “We need her, Cassandra,” she said softly, placing her hand on the other woman’s arm.

They needed her? For what? “I don’t understand.”

As Cassandra stepped back, the one with the Orlesian accent knelt down in front of her. While her face didn’t seem as angry, there was a sharpness to her eyes that spoke volumes. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

She remembered being at the Conclave, and she was fairly certain she’d been looking for a way to get out of it. But then everything was blank until… “I remember running. Things were chasing me, and then…a woman?” She was questioning herself, unsure if any of it was real or just a dream.

The redhead’s brows rose. “A woman?”

There were only vague impressions - fear and confusion. Spiders? “She reached out to me, but then…”

As Ember trailed off, Cassandra gestured out the door. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

Leliana hesitated for a moment and then inclined her head before exiting the room.

Ember took the opportunity to look around, realizing with a start that she was in some sort of dungeon. And there were four soldiers watching her with swords drawn. Just how dangerous did they think she was? “What did happen?”

For a moment there was only silence as Cassandra seemed to be trying to come to a decision. Finally, she reached down and pulled her to her feet, unlocking the manacles. “It will be easier to show you.”

The manacles fell to the floor but the woman then bound her wrists with rope. Roughly, she grabbed her arm and led her outside. The light was intense after being in the darkness and she lifted her hands to shield her eyes. But something about the sky was wrong and as soon as her eyes adjusted, she could only stare upwards.

“We call it ‘The Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” Cassandra joined her in staring at the sky, where a gigantic tear frothed, spewing forth balls of green fire. “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

She’d never seen anything like it and was half-convinced she was in the center of a nightmare. “An explosion can do that?”

“This one did,” she said simply. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

The Breach flashed and as if in response the energy in her hand burned, sending her falling to the ground. It was impossible to hold back the scream as pain ripped through her. It was quick and sharp and left her gasping for breath as it faded into a dull ache.

Frowning, Cassandra reached down to once again pull her to her feet. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

She knew the woman wasn’t lying - she could feel it. Whatever had happened to her, a part of her now resonated with the giant hole in the sky, and as it tore open, so did she. “You say it may be the key…to doing what?”

“Closing the Breach.” At Ember’s incredulous look, Cassandra shrugged. “Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

Flexing her fingers, she considered. “So I don’t really have a choice about this.”

“None of us have a choice.” Gesturing her forward, Cassandra began to lead her through a village she didn't recognize, where onlookers glared as they passed. “They have decided your guilt,” the woman explained. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.”

Of course Ember knew who Divine Justinia was. She’d seen her from afar at the Conclave, and was sure her father had hoped for a more personal introduction at some point. All she remembered was trying to avoid the woman as much as possible. To hear that she was dead, along with all the others at the Conclave…what did that mean for the rebellion? What had happened to the Temple?

They reached a set of gates and a pair of soldiers set to opening them, revealing a snowy path up into the mountains. “We lash out, like the sky,” Cassandra continued as she took Ember through the gates. “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” She stopped in her tracks, perhaps having said the words for herself. Turning, she drew a small dagger from a sheath at her hip. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” In a quick movement, she cut the ropes around Ember’s wrists to free her. “Come. It is not far.”

Ember watched her walk away, rubbing her wrists. “Where are you taking me?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” she said matter-of-factly, leaving her no choice but to follow.
–----------------------------

“Quickly, before more come through!”

Ember’s wrist was grabbed by a tall, bald elf, her hand lifted up towards the rift before them. She wasn’t sure what was happening but a force of energy appeared in her palm, connecting with the rift, and when she pulled back and closed her hand into a fist, the tear closed. As silence settled in around them, the elf let go of her and she stared at him. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he said with a smile. “The credit is yours.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked away from him and at the empty space where the rift had been, flexing her fingers at the tingling sensation that remained in her palm. “I closed that thing? How?”

He glanced upwards with deep purple eyes. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake - and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra pointed out as she sheathed her sword.

“Possibly,” he agreed before looking back at Ember, studying her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know!” A dwarf with reddish-blond hair pulled back into a shaggy tail and a shirt unbuttoned nearly to his waist, stepped forward to join them. “Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.” He smiled charmingly at Ember, brown eyes assessing. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra, who scowled and rolled her eyes.

Ember knew who Varric Tethras was. For a moment, she could only stare at him. What was the author of one of her favorite novels doing in front of her, situating a crossbow on his back? “It’s good to meet you, Varric,” she said tightly.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time,” warned the elf.

Varric grinned at him, unperturbed. “Aww. I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra barged in, shaking her head. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” The dwarf jerked his head down the mountain. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

Cassandra turned away, making a disgusted noise but not arguing any further.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” The elf smiled, bowing his head slightly. “I’m pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric clarified.

“Ember.” She had known a fair share of mages, both apostate and those in a Circle. But Solas seemed…unique. He looked unlike any elf she’d ever seen, and he dressed incredibly simply - almost as if he was trying to blend in or be invisible on purpose. It was something she had experience with. “You seem to know a great deal about it all.”

“Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters,” Cassandra explained.

“Techinially, all mages are apostates, Cassandra.” He again turned his attention to Ember after addressing the Seeker. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

An expert in the Fade? That was a new one. “And what will you do once this is all over?”

His lips twitched upwards. “One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not.”

She supposed that was the hope for all of them. “How did you…do that? Keep the mark from killing me?”

“Healing magic and minor wards, but I fear your mark is now past the point where those can help you.” Solas frowned, shifting his gaze to the other woman. “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Cassandra glanced between the elf and Ember and then nodded. “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

“Well,” Varric chuckled as the small group began to move onwards, “Bianca’s excited!”
–----------------------------

“So I take it you’re from the Free Marches?” Varric asked casually after dispatching a nasty looking shade.

Ember’s brows rose as she cleaned off her daggers. Killing demons was new to her, but the dwarf seemed comfortable enough with their task. She supposed he'd done it plenty of times before with Hawke. “Oh?”

“Accent,” he explained, holstering his crossbow. “I’m from Kirkwall, but you’re from…further east, maybe?”

She'd never tried to hide her accent but she hadn't realized it was obvious either. "That's quite the ear you have."

“I’m all kinds of impressive,” he said with a charming grin and a wink.

Cassandra didn’t bother hiding her derisive snort as she began leading them up a hill.

Varric moved through the snow next to Ember, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “Ansburg? Ostwick? This is going to bother me.”

“You just…listening to me talk feels odd,” she admitted, shivering as a breeze passed them.

Perhaps to distract her from what he was doing, he changed the topic. “So…are you innocent?”

She was fairly certain she hadn’t caused an explosion that leveled a mountain and killed hundreds of people, but she couldn’t say for sure. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“That’ll get you every time.” Varric smiled smugly, as if he’d figured something out. “Should have spun a story.”

“That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra threw over her shoulder.

“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.”

Ember smiled but then found herself staggering forward and breathing sharply as the mark on her hand flared, reminding her of the timeline they were on.

“Shit, are you alright?” Varric placed a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with concern. “That…didn’t sound good.”

Solas reached out and took her hand gently, shaking his head at her palm in frustration. “My magic cannot stop the mark growing further. For your sake, I suggest we hurry, before the mark consumes you.”

“Lovely,” she muttered, trying to not let panic overtake her.

“Hold on.” Cassandra hefted her shield, face set with determination. “We haven’t much further.”
–----------------------------

Solas paused at the top of the incline, staring down with a furrowed brow at the wreckage below. “The Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“What’s left of it,” muttered Varric.

Cassandra gestured ahead, across the empty expanse of land that was burned black. It continued to smolder and there were bumps and shapes along the way that were suspiciously human. “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” she told Ember. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Ember wasn’t sure either. As they walked through the ruin, she could only gaze in horror at the level of destruction that sounded them. They thought she had done such a thing? She clenched the marked hand into a fist, heart pounding. She wasn’t one to pray to the Maker, or to follow Andraste, or to care about the Divine - and it had been no secret how much she loathed being forced to go to the Conclave - but to cause so much damage and death…

“The Breach sure is a long way up,” Varric pointed out, gazing upwards with a whistle as they entered what remained standing of the temple. In the courtyard before them was a rift, crackling and angry, and directly above it was the Breach.

“You’re here.” Leliana appeared behind them, a group of soldiers at her back. “Thank the Maker.”

Cassandra was busy staring at the Breach, lips set in a thin line. “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” As the woman gestured for her soldiers to follow her and made their way into the ruin, the Seeker turned to Ember. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Was she supposed to know how to do so? “I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing.” She doubted just holding up her hand towards it would be enough, like it had for the smaller rifts.

“No.” Solas stepped forward, gesturing with his staff. “This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

Cassandra hesitated for a moment but she had no reason to distrust the elf. “Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.”

Ember looked around the ruin, frowning at the red crystals that jutted out from the ground. Everyone seemed on edge and uncomfortable. No one knew what to do or expect, her least of all. But if she was the only one that could solve things, and if it was the only way to keep her from dying…she’d do what was asked of her.

And then, as soon as she was able, she would run.
–----------------------------

The first demons she’d fought had been a surprise, but the one that came through the rift in the temple astounded her. For a moment, Ember could only stare at the beast that towered over her. A pride demon, she heard Solas say, though the type of demon meant little to her. It was the size of its claws and the throaty laugh and the whip of lightning it wielded that she had to pay attention to.

Leliana’s archers rained arrows down upon it, barely piercing the tough hide. Cassandra and the foot soldiers stabbed at it with swords, but faced the same problem. Even Solas’ magic seemed to have little effect. The only time they were able to bring the demon to its knees was when Ember used the mark on her hand to disrupt the energy of the rift.

And each time she did, a sharp stabbing pain jolted through her. But she couldn’t stop. More demons were appearing through the tear - smaller and easier to handle, yet still more than they needed to deal with on top of the big one. She could see everyone’s concern, their energy and determination waning.

Cursing under her breath, she gripped the daggers she’d found along the way to the temple tightly and began to run towards the pride demon. Using her small stature to her advantage, she weaved through the other soldiers and dodged claws and whip alike. Seeing an opening, she shifted her body and used the momentum to slide between the demon’s legs, cutting at its shins as she went. It was enough to bring it to its knees and it roared in frustration as the soldiers fought against it.

Ember stood and held her hand out towards the rift, once again pulling on its power to destroy whatever type of shield the demon had around itself. There was a sound of triumph behind her as the demon's defenses fell and black blood sizzled along the ground as pride was brought low.

“Now!” Cassandra pointed upwards with her sword. “Seal the rift!”

The tear was bigger than any of the others she’d closed and the pain shooting through her arm was already more than she’d experienced. But if she didn’t, more demons would come. Breathing heavily, her vision blurring, she tried to lift her hand again. The energy crackled and she let out a cry of pain, falling to her knees.

The Seeker hurried forward, grabbing her by the arm and lifting her back to her feet. “Do it!”

Ember grit her teeth, leaning on the woman for support before stepping towards the rift. She held her hand out before her and focused on the energy connecting the mark with the tear. She was fairly certain that closing it would kill her, but if she didn’t, she’d die anyway - and take all of Thedas with her. If the only reason she survived the explosion at the Conclave was to keep the demons from killing more people, she’d do what she could.

With a yell, she closed her hand into a fist and pulled her arm back in the same motion she had with sealing the other rifts. She could feel it reacting, saw the tear grow smaller, but it was resisting her. Though she had no idea how she did it, she channeled into the mark and yanked back even further.

The rift closed with a resounding growl, fizzling out into the air.

“You did it!” Varric shouted from nearby, astonishment in his voice.

She had, somehow. She took a shaky breath, grasping her hand. And she was still alive. With a dry laugh, she turned back towards Cassandra - and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Ember's dreams were restless - flashes of different memories combining together into a nauseating mess. Waking up in the snow on the mountain, trying to find her way out of the temple, fighting demons and sealing rifts. She tried to sink back into the darkness, into some type of oblivion, but she kept being drawn back by prodding and poking and a stabbing sensation in her hand.

She awoke slowly, blinking against the light filtering in through the window next to her. “Am I dead?” she mumbled, pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes as if it could stop the pounding headache.

“Oh!” A voice gasped from nearby.

Surprised, she sat up quickly, nearly falling to the ground with the movement. She was laid out in an unfamiliar bed, in a small room with simple furnishings. A stricken looking young elf was staring at her with wide eyes, a box laying askew at her feet from where she'd dropped it.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

Ember shook her head and instantly regretted doing so, the headache shifting behind her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I only-”

The elf dropped to her hands and knees, prostrating on the floor before the bed. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You’re back in Haven, my lady.” She peeked up, her face full of awe. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

Three days? She remembered fighting the pride demon in the temple. She remembered the pain that had overtaken her when closing the rift and falling to the ground. But for that to knock her out for three days…She flexed the hand with the mark instinctively as she processed what the elf had said. “So you’re saying…they’re happy with me?” She was no longer in chains and her accommodations were warm and welcoming instead of the dungeon she’d first found herself in. Perhaps she’d done enough to get into the Seeker’s good graces, as difficult as that seemed.

“I’m only saying what I heard. I didn’t mean anything by it.” The elf scrambled to her feet. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’.”

Ember made a noise of agreement - Cassandra did seem the type to want information as soon as possible. “And where is she?” She’d feel better if she knew more about the situation, about how close her jailor was. If she needed to make a quick exit…

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor.” The elf was backing up quickly, making for the door of the small hut. “‘At once,’ she said!” And then she was gone.

“Shit.” Ember closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows once again, pushing her hair out of her face. The girl had said the Breach had stopped growing, not that it was closed. She held the marked hand up and stared at her palm, considering. The pain that had been plaguing her during the journey from the dungeon to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes was gone, but the mark remained - an odd cut that showed faint against her pale skin.

She could run, but where would she go? She’d told Cassandra that she’d help do what she could about the Breach. It hadn’t been her fault - as far as she knew - but the mark was obviously connected to it in some way. It wasn’t a responsibility that she wanted but it didn’t seem as if she had much of a choice.

With a sigh, she sat up slowly, wincing as she slid off the bed. She pressed a hand against the wall to support herself and chuckled wryly. She was far too weak to be running anywhere. Glancing down at the plain clothes she wore, she realized she was again missing her daggers and tools and while she could always get new ones elsewhere, it would be a harder road. Especially without a single coin on her.

When she finally pushed open the door to follow the elf, she wasn't expecting the sight that greeted her. She stopped in her tracks, staring uncertainly before her. Lined up outside of the hut and along the path of the village were dozens of people, standing as if waiting for a parade to begin. And they were all staring at her - though the animosity that had been on the villagers faces when she’d last seen them had shifted to something else. Reverence?

She had to keep herself from snorting at the thought. Cautiously she began to walk forward, waiting for the guards to grab her and drag her away. But everyone stayed where they were, watching and murmuring and letting her pass without incident. It was unnerving and the urge to run grew stronger with each step she took.

“That’s her,” a man whispered loudly as she passed. “That’s the Herald of Andraste. They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her.”

“Hush! We shouldn’t disturb her,” replied the woman next to him.

Ember’s brows furrowed in confusion. Herald? Andraste? What the Maker were they talking about? Similar conversations began to sprout up all around her within the crowds, along with well-wishes and blessings. She inclined her head in acceptance and forced a smile but her stomach tightened and if there had been any food within, she wasn’t sure it would’ve stayed down.

“That’s her,” another villager pointed out as she drew closer to the Chantry. “She stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.”

“I heard she was supposed to close it entirely.” The villager sniffed. “Still, it’s more than anyone else has done. Demons would have had us otherwise.”

The crowd thinned the closer she got to the Chantry and as she approached the large gilded doors, she let herself turn and look up into the sky. There amongst roiling clouds was the Breach, still large, still angry, though no longer spewing demons and threatening to consume the world. But it remained and whatever she’d done back at the temple hadn’t been enough.

Wondering just what she’d gotten herself into, and wishing she could remember how it had come to be to begin with, she made her way into the Chantry to find Cassandra.
–----------------------------

Ember was directed to a door at the back of the building, told that Seeker Cassandra was currently meeting with some others to discuss next steps. She reached out and grasped the handle, hesitating when raised voices sounded through the wood.

“Have you gone completely mad?” Chancellor Roderick yelled. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty,” Cassandra replied firmly.

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way.”

Ember frowned, dropping her hand. There was still a huge crowd of people outside but maybe if she timed it right, she could sneak out of the place before anyone noticed her. She had no interest in being taken to Orlais and left in a dungeon to rot.

“I do not believe that.”

Cassandra’s words gave Ember pause and she sighed, pushing her hair back as she argued with herself about what to do.

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

Cassandra scoffed. “My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Taking a breath, Ember pushed open the door and stepped inside, keeping her chin up when everyone in the room looked in her direction.

Roderick’s face flushed with anger and he gestured at one of the templars. “Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra instructed, “and leave us.”

The templars looked at each other and then bowed their heads to the Seeker before exiting the room, closing the door behind them and leaving Ember inside with the others.

Roderick sputtered. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

Cassandra walked around the large table in the middle of the room where maps and markers were placed haphazardly. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

Moving to the opposite side of the table, Ember set her shoulders, keeping her gaze steady. “I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me.”

“Yet you live,” Roderick pointed out, his eyes narrowing at her. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

“Have a care, Chancellor.” Cassandra slammed a hand down on the table, leaning forward towards the man. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Leliana stepped out of the shadows against the back wall where she’d been leaning and watching. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others.” Her head tilted at the Chancellor. “Or have allies who yet live.”

Roderick’s eyes went wide. “I am a suspect?”

Leliana shrugged. “You, and many others.”

“But not the prisoner,” he said in indignation.

Cassandra shook her head. “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

He threw his hands in the air. “So her survival, that thing on her hand - all a coincidence?”

“Providence,” Cassandra replied quietly, looking towards Ember. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

No. No, that wasn’t right. Panic gripped her and she took a step back. “You can’t honestly believe I’m any kind of ‘chosen one’.”

“We are all subject to the will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not.” The dark-haired woman eyed her curiously. “No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” That seemed to be enough for Leliana.

Roderick hissed at the women. “This is not for you to decide.”

Done with the arguing, Cassandra picked up a large tome and threw it down onto the table. A symbol was etched into the cover - an open eye wreathed in flame that stared up at them. “Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” She tapped the book, staring at the shocked man. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Roderick stared at her for a moment and then turned on his heel, muttering under his breath as he left the room.

Leliana ran her fingers over the eye on the cover of the book. “This is the Divine’s direction: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” She frowned, her light blue eyes worried. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice: we must act now.” Resolute, Cassandra lifted her gaze to Ember. “With you at our side.”

Ember shook her head in denial. “You’re trying to start a holy war,” she said quietly. She couldn’t be involved in that. She’d stabilized the Breach…was that not enough?

“We are already at war. You are already involved,” she responded, as if she could read the rogue’s mind. “Its mark is upon you. As to whether or not the war is holy…that depends on what we discover.”

Clenching her marked hand into a fist, Ember swallowed. “What if I refuse?”

“You can go, if you wish.” Leliana's voice was light, but there was a sharp curiosity in her eyes.

Cassandra looked at the redheaded woman and sighed. “You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty.” Her voice lowered. “The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.”

“We can also help you,” Leliana added.

“It will not be easy if you stay,” Cassandra continued, “but you cannot pretend this has not changed you.”

Ember looked down at her hand, frowning. Something had changed and much had happened - but to be involved in something where people would think she was chosen? Yet she remembered the looks of hate from those that had thought her guilty on the way to stabilize the Breach. They wouldn’t let her get very far if she tried to leave. And where would she even go? The Breach affected all of Thedas and Finn’s betrayal meant she had no home to return to in Starkhaven. “When I woke up, I certainly didn’t picture this outcome.”

Leliana smiled. “Neither did we.”

Cassandra stepped closer, holding out her hand. “Help us fix this before it’s too late.”

The Seeker was sincere, Ember could trust that. Taking a breath, she nodded, shaking Cassandra’s hand. “I’ll do what I can."
–----------------------------

Why the Inquisition was making the Chantry their base of operations, Ember wasn't sure. Perhaps because it was the largest and sturdiest building in Haven. She preferred to think it was that sort of logical reasoning that would drive the group forward, rather than a want to be part of a faction that seemed to not support them. She adjusted her gloves as she moved through the building, glancing at the pews that had been shoved aside to make room for supplies. Haven's blacksmith, Harritt, had created a new set of armor for her to replace the plain clothes she'd been dressed in while unconscious. The gear was simple, light, and gave her a good range of movement - but she needed a pair of daggers to test it fully.

“Does it trouble you?”

She glanced over at Cassandra, who walked beside her, belatedly realizing that she was holding her marked hand as if in pain. She dropped it. “Not really.”

Cassandra paused and turned to her. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed - provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

Ember gave her a wry grin. “What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?”

A rare smile crossed the Seeker’s face as she responded dryly. “Hold on to that sense of humor.” She pushed open the door to the room where she'd met with Chancellor Roderick earlier and led Ember inside.

Not much had changed in the brief time between when she’d first been there - a few more candles to brighten up the room, a few more surfaces covered in papers and books. The large table remained in the center of the room and laid out across it was a map of their surrounding areas. The Inquisition's War Room. Behind the table stood three figures - Ember recognized Leliana and gave her a slight nod in greeting. She’d seen the fancily-dressed woman roaming around the Chantry with her writing board, but the man was new to her and the sight of him nearly stopped her in her tracks. She hadn’t expected someone so…attractive.

Cassandra shut the door and gestured towards him as she stepped up to the center table. “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“Such as they are,” the Commander commented, his voice deep and smooth, his expression calm as he eyed Ember curiously. “We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet,” Cassandra passed a missive to the shorter woman, “our Ambassador and chief diplomat.”

Josephine took the letter and added it to her pile, smiling at Ember. “I have heard much,” she said politely with an Antivan accent. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

The redheaded Orlesian inclined her head. “My position here involves a degree of…”

“She is our Spymaster,” Cassandra said, approaching the table.

Leliana rolled her eyes. “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Ember bit back a smile. “That’s an impressive bunch of titles.” She stepped forward when the Seeker gestured her closer.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana said firmly.

Cullen shook his head, his hands resting on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his hip, his focus turning to the map. “I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra sighed, obviously having gone through the argument with him before. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Might destroy us all,” he interrupted, meeting her gaze. “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”

Leliana waved a hand in the air. “Pure speculation.”

“I was a templar,” Cullen emphasized, his expression turning grim. “I know what they’re capable of.”

Ember looked at the man a little closer, wary. Handsome or not, templars were dangerous territory, and not the most trustworthy in her experience. Yet she'd never heard of a templar leaving the Order behind willingly.

Josephine tapped her quill against her writing board, looking at them all in exasperation. “Unfortunately, neither group will speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition.” With an apologetic smile, she looked at Ember. “And you, specifically.”

“That didn’t take long,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest. Was it a good thing? If the Chantry was against her…surely that would be more of a problem for her father than a benefit.

Cullen scowled. “Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?”

Josephine continued to address Ember. “Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’, and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

Ember could only stare at her in surprise, words stuck in her throat.

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra grumbled with a glare towards the front of the Chantry.

“It limits our options.” Josephine looked at the parchment on her board and frowned. “Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

Ember held up a hand. “Just how am I the ‘Herald of Andraste’?” she asked, her voice tight.

The Seeker looked at her as if it was obvious. “People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the Fade right when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

Leliana tilted her head from where she leaned back against the wall. “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-”

“Which we have not,” Cassandra pointed out.

“The point is,” the Spymaster continued, “everyone is talking about you.”

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen drew her attention back to him, smiling kindly. “How do you feel about that?”

Ember couldn’t deny the uneasiness roiling within her - being connected to Andraste was the last thing she wanted. “It’s…a little unsettling,” she admitted.

Cullen’s smile grew, the scar running from his lower cheek into his upper lip on the right side shifting with the movement. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

“People are desperate for a sign of hope,” Leliana explained quietly, watching her. “For some, you’re that sign.”

Josephine sighed. “And to others, a symbol of everything gone wrong.”

Perhaps she was more of a detriment to their organization than a prize. “So if I wasn’t with the Inquistion…”

Cullen shook his head, quickly shutting down that line of thought. “Let’s be honest. They would have censured us no matter what.”

“And you not being here isn’t an option,” Cassandra said firmly, giving her a hard look.

So she'd locked herself into a cause that could get them all killed. Of course she had.

“There is something you can do.” Leliana placed a marker down on the map. “A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

She balked at the idea. “Why would someone from the Chantry help a declared heretic?”

“I understand she is a reasonable sort,” the Spymaster said with a shrug. “Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters? Either way, you’ll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

Ember nodded slowly, mind still reeling from the new title she’d acquired while she’d slept.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” Cullen suggested, looking at the map.

Josephine smiled at her. “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options.” Cassandra gave Ember a sympathetic look. “I won’t leave this all to the Herald.”

“Thanks.” Ember looked at the map, studying the location of Redcliffe. Sooner than she’d expected, she was an agent of the Inquisition, and she had her tasks. As the others moved markers around and discussed possibilities, she rubbed her temple. She wanted to laugh - how much of the past decade had she spent trying to avoid the Chantry? The Maker seemed to enjoy his jokes.

Cassandra left the room for a few minutes and when she returned she carried a small bundle that she held out towards Ember. “Here. You may need these.”

She held out her hands automatically, pleasantly surprised as her fingers closed around a familiar pouch. “My tools?” she asked quietly, opening it to inspect the condition of her lockpicking set. Nothing appeared to be missing, though a few items were in the wrong place.

The Seeker had the grace to look abashed, though she scowled through it. “We took them when we first found you, but it hardly seems necessary any longer. These as well.”

Ember set the pouch down to take the daggers held out to her. A tension she hadn’t been aware of carrying melted away from her shoulders as she gripped them. The ones she’d used during their sojourn to the temple had been serviceable, but they hadn’t been hers. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

Cassandra only nodded and left, mumbling about attending to her own duties.

Smiling, Ember slid the daggers into their sheaths and picked up her pouch. As she began tying it to her belt, she felt eyes on her. Looking up, she noticed Cullen staring at her tools.

“Cassandra says you fought well on your way to seal the Breach,” he commented casually, but his gaze was full of suspicion. “I didn’t realize they trained noble ladies from the Free Marches in combat.”

She considered how to respond, studying him in the silence. She’d bet coin on the Commander being Fereldan - he was tall and broad-shouldered with muscles that spoke of controlled and regular training. He wore a breastplate with arm and shoulder guards, perhaps to signify his rank as well as for fighting. The black and red fur lining of the coat draped around his armor gave the impression of a mane, fierce and intimidating. But his face, while handsome with its sharp jaw and chiseled cheekbones, looked tired. His cheeks were covered in stubble and there were dark smudges beneath golden-brown eyes. His wavy blond hair was pushed back and disheveled as if he often ran his hand through it. “Do they not train noble ladies to fight in Ferelden?”

He shifted his shoulders, continuing to watch her as if unsure what to make of her. “Perhaps some do. I can’t say I’ve had enough interactions with nobles to know. At least, not any that I’ve enjoyed.”

Her lips quirked upwards and she inclined her head in understanding. “I don’t much enjoy the aristocracy myself.”

That seemed to surprise him. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but a sudden knock on the doorframe drew his attention as a soldier held out a report. Cullen stepped forward to take the missive, scanning it before glancing back at her. “You should come down to the training grounds sometime.”

Ember stared after him as he left with the soldier. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gotten herself into, or what she would be doing going forward, but she’d told Cassandra that she would help, so she would. For the time being, at least.

Chapter Text

Varric held his hands out towards the bonfire, his breath misting before him as he spoke. "So, now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up all right?"

Ember shrugged, mirroring him and standing as close to the flames as she dared. The small tavern of Haven was nearby and she wondered why the dwarf didn't just go inside - she sure wished to. But eyes followed her everywhere and she had a feeling that being stuck in a room of villagers calling her Herald might make her scream.

"I mean," he continued, "you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."

It felt like months already. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. "I can barely keep up," she admitted.

"That makes two of us." He frowned, gazing up at the sky. "For days now, we've been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Makers-knows-what fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived."

She eyed him, hopping from one foot to the other to try to get her blood pumping. As a fellow Marcher, she was certain he had to be as cold as she was, yet his shirt remained unbuttoned, his coat tossed to the side. Maybe the chest hair helped - there was a lot of it on display. Meanwhile, she wasn't entirely sure she'd ever be warm again."Why did you stay?"

"I like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…" He shook his head with a sigh. "Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there's a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and just leave that to sort itself out."

"That's admirable." She looked down at her hand. The mark was covered by her glove but if she focused, she could feel the tingle of the magic in her palm. "I'm still not sure I believe any of this is really happening." Perhaps she was unconscious from the Conclave explosion and everything that had come after was some sort of fever-dream.

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming.” He turned to face her, his expression full of sympathy. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

“I think the opportunity for running has passed,” she murmured, not without a bit of regret.
–----------------------------

When Ember stepped out of the hut that housed Adan - the apothecary turned reluctant healer - she nearly ran straight into Solas.

The tall, pale elf gazed at her, a slight smile curving his lips. “The Chosen of Andraste,” he greeted in a tone that could be taken as mocking, but she wasn’t sure, “a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

“Am I riding in on a shining steed?” she asked sweetly.

His smile widened, the mocking tone leaving his voice to be replaced by amusement. “I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly they’re extinct.” Shaking his head, his smile fell away. “Joke as you will, posturing is necessary.”

Her brows rose, curious at the confidence with which he said the words. “Is it?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and moved towards the edge of the hill they were on, looking out over the village of Haven. “I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past of wars both famous and forgotten.” He glanced at her, purple eyes searching. “Every great war had its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

She wasn’t interested in being one at all, if she could help it. She leaned back against the half-wall of stone before them, tilting her head in contemplation. “What do you mean ruins and battlefields?”

Solas seemed mildly surprised at her question, as if not expecting her to be interested in the things he said. “Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

She hadn’t known the elf for very long, but the way he spoke of the Fade interested her. Beneath the restrained exterior, she could see a hint of the deep love he had for the subject. “You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins?” she teased. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I do set wards.” He saw her smile and responded with a tentative one of his own. “And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.”

“I could do without giant spiders.” She shuddered at the idea of waking up surrounded by the creatures. “I imagine you find some amazing things in there…alongside all the demons.”

He inclined his head. “Exactly. It is occasionally dangerous, but more often it’s just sad to see what has been lost. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything.” Solas shifted his gaze from her up to the sky, considering. “I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

Ember hadn’t thought it possible that he wouldn’t stay. He was the only one who seemed to know anything about the mark on her hand and she had a feeling she was going to have a lot of questions about it as time went on. “Was that in doubt?”

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion,” he reminded her. “Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

She did, but the Seeker was even less keen to let the elf go. “Cassandra trusts you,” she said simply, straightening. “She won’t let anyone put you into a Circle against your will.”

Solas seemed both surprised and amused by her words. “Thank you. I appreciate the thought.” Again, he looked towards the sky, his grim expression returning. “For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.”

If they could get either faction to talk to them before it was too late. She hoped she could do enough to make a conversation possible, but she didn't want to be the one making such a decision.
–----------------------------

Steel ringing against steel sounded from the training grounds set up between Haven's gates and the frozen lake. Lines of recruits sparred with each other, learning how to fight and defend themselves. Ember could just make out the tall form of the Commander as she made her way back towards the village from the smithy and she paused, wondering if she should speak with him.

He'd invited her to the training grounds, hadn't he?

Yet he was also a previous templar. She'd seen plenty of templars among the recruits, but to have one leading the Inquisition's soldiers…it would probably be best to avoid him as much as possible.

A disgusted noise drew her attention and she shifted to see Cassandra nearby, hitting one of the training dummies with far more force than necessary.

“I think you need practice dummies made of sturdier stuff,” Ember remarked as she approached.

Cassandra scowled. “That would be nice.”

“Like maybe iron," she suggested with a grin.

With a sigh, Cassandra sheathed her sword and stared off at the horizon. “Did I do the right thing?” she asked quietly. “What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I revered my whole life. One day, they might write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right.”

Ember hummed in agreement, kicking at a rock with the toe of her boot. “You didn’t have any choice.”

“Didn’t I?” Her shoulders rose and fell. “My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.’. I see what must be done and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail.” She frowned as she studied Ember. “But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

She was fairly positive the Breach hadn’t been her fault, and she couldn’t remember the explosion…but she knew what she’d been doing before it had happened. She knew what she'd been before Finn had betrayed her. “It wasn’t like you had no reason to suspect me.”

“I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone.” With an apologetic look, she began to turn back to the training dummy but then stopped. “You’ve said you don’t believe you’re chosen. Does that mean…you also don’t believe in the Maker?”

It was difficult to believe in something that people used to hurt others. She believed in something, but she wasn't quite sure what. "I can't really say," she answered honestly.

Cassandra didn’t seem thrilled with the answer, but neither was she displeased. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter now. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.”

“Hopefully somewhere warmer,” she suggested, brushing a dusting of snow off her shoulder.

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed. “It occurs to me that I don’t actually know much about you.”

In the brief time she'd known Leliana, she'd learned that it was pointless to try to hide anything about herself if asked. If someone was curious about her, the Spymaster probably already had the answers. "What do you want to know?"

“I’m…not sure.” Her lips pursed into a thin line as she considered. “Where are you from?”

She gestured back towards the village where the Orlesian woman had set up her tents of operation. “I thought you knew that.”

“I suppose I could ask Leliana. She has collected a frightening amount of information on you." Her lips curved slightly at Ember’s snort. “But I don’t want to ask her. I want to hear it from you.”

The woman was nothing if not direct. "I was born in Ostwick, and that's where most of my family is." And where they would stay - without her.

Cassandra nodded slowly. “The Trevelyans, is it not? A large clan with a rather clever coat-of-arms. Tell me, do you consider the Free Marches your home? Are you eager to go back?”

Taken aback, Ember frowned. Of course she was a Free Marcher, but returning to Ostwick? The thought had never occurred to her. She shook her head. “If I ever go back, it will be too soon.”

“Yes." Her expression softened into one of understanding. “I suppose I feel the same way about my own family.”

“Well now.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning forward slightly with a half-smile. “This I have to hear.”
–----------------------------

From his position instructing the recruits in their training, Cullen watched Ember and Cassandra speak. He tried to concentrate on what was occurring around him, but his gaze continued to wander to the mysterious woman that now served as an Inquisition agent. He wasn't close enough to hear what the two women were saying to each other, but he saw her nod at something Cassandra said and the way she shivered as a chill breeze blew by despite the layers she wore.

The influx of demons and the need to keep Haven and its people safe had kept him distracted from being too curious about her when she'd been a prisoner. He'd left it to Cassandra and Leliana while he'd taken soldiers into the valley to fight against what emerged from the rifts. After stabilizing the Breach, she'd been unconscious for three days and no one believed she'd make it. Leliana had provided him with her name and where she was from, but any further information he'd deemed not worth his time. And once he'd found out she was a noble, his interest had waned.

But then she'd come into the War Room with Cassandra - the Herald of Andraste. She'd seemed uncomfortable with the title and the attention, which wasn't something he'd expected from a noblewoman, especially one that looked like her. He also hadn't been expecting her obvious relief at having her blades returned, or the pouch of lockpicking tools she kept.

He was certain the woman only continued to draw his attention because a nagging part of him found her suspicious or perhaps even dangerous. Cassandra and Leliana had deemed her part of the Maker's plan and Josephine was content to have someone of the aristocracy to use to enhance their cause. He wasn't so easily convinced. It was his duty to ensure the safety of those under his protection and if she-

A sudden crashing distracted him from his thoughts and his head snapped back to the recruits. "You there! There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it. If this man were your enemy, you’d be dead.” Sighing, he turned to the man that stood beside him. “Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, Commander.” He looked over Cullen's shoulder as someone approached, snow crunching under boots. He gave a salute and promptly left.

Cullen shifted to see who had sent the man hurrying away and tried to not act surprised when he saw Ember draw close. He'd suggested she see the training grounds, after all. He crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to keep his voice level. "We've received a number of recruits - locals from Haven and some pilgrims." He couldn't stop himself from studying her. "None made quite the entrance you did."

She shrugged, unbothered, and glanced up at him with a slight smirk. "At least I got everyone's attention."

He chuckled despite himself. "That you did." As soon as the soldiers had found her at the ruins of the temple, there'd been little else discussed amongst the people - whether for good or bad. He shifted his feet, realizing with her standing beside him that she was shorter than he'd originally thought and he felt awkwardly large. His height and size were often an advantage in battle, but made him self-conscious when around people he wasn't fighting.

"And you? How'd you get wrangled into all of,” she waved a hand at the recruits before them, “this?”

“I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself.” A messenger came up beside him to hand him a report. Cullen began to walk along the line of recruits, gesturing for Ember to follow as he read and spoke simultaneously. “I was there during the mage uprising - I saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the templars to join her cause.” He stopped as they reached a line of tents that overlooked the lake and handed the report back to the messenger with a brief instruction before sending them off. Cullen looked up at the Breach, resting his hand on the hilt of the sword. “Now it seems we face something far worse.”

She hummed in agreement, following his gaze. “The Conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky - things aren’t looking good.” And there she was, right in the center of it.

Cullen turned towards her. “Which is why we’re needed,” he explained, a sudden need for her to understand coming over him. “The Chantry lost control of both the templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot.” He leaned forward, the idea of change and helping people spurring him on. “Our followers would be a part of that. There’s so much we can-” He stopped himself, straightening his shoulders and shaking his head, turning back to the lake. He was being a fool and speaking far too much with someone he didn't trust. “Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

She didn't want to like him, but her lips twitched in amusement. So he'd voluntarily left the Order to join the Inquisition - and he had come from Kirkwall. Her curiosity about him grew, even though she didn't want it to. The dealings she'd had with templars in the past had soured her view of them, but the one before her was…endearing, somehow. "No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it."

He couldn't stop the laugh that left his throat, though he didn't understand why he'd react to her in such a way. "Another time perhaps." His gaze found its way back to her face in time to see a wide smile spread across it and the air left his lungs. From the moment he'd seen her, he'd known she was beautiful - he wasn't blind. But how had he not noticed just how deep of a blue her eyes were, or the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, or the fullness of her lips? She had a small scar through the corner of her left eyebrow and her dark hair fell in waves just past her shoulders. It was easy to see why people were drawn to her. "I, ah…" He found himself smiling and cleared his throat as he tried to gain some semblance of control. "There's still a lot of work ahead."

Another messenger approached in a hurried manner. “Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines.”

Cullen sent a silent thanks to the Maker for the interruption. “As I was saying.” He inclined his head in goodbye, taking the missive in hand and returning to his work. There'd be time to determine the woman's intentions - when she wasn't standing near him and muddling his thoughts.

Ember watched him, studying the way he walked and held himself, and the way he spoke to those under his command. Their interactions had been short, but she couldn't deny there was something about him that intrigued her.

Which was incredibly annoying.

Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and walked away from the handsome Commander, intent on putting the man as far from her thoughts as possible.

Chapter Text

“The Herald of Andraste!” A redheaded dwarf gazed up at Ember in awe, a wide smile on her freckled face. “I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady." She bowed awkwardly, obviously not used to doing so. " Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I - all of us here - we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“Harding, huh?” Varric asked with interest as he adjusted his glove. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

Harding glanced at him, giving the other dwarf a curious look. “I can’t say I have, why?”

“You’d be Harding in….” Varric sighed, losing the will for the joke halfway through. “Oh, nevermind.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise from behind them, a noise that Ember was quickly learning happened at the end of most things Varric said.

“I’m starting to worry about these ‘stories’ that everyone’s heard,” she admitted. The Hinterlands were a vast area but already the Inquisition had established a camp in the hills and apparently had scouts and soldiers spread throughout it. Word about her was travelling fast and that made her nervous.

Harding smiled and shrugged innocently. “Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. They only say you’re the last great hope for Thedas.”

Ember felt her stomach drop. “Oh. Wonderful.”

“The people here should leave the area,” Cassandra said, looking out over the hills with narrowed eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”

Varric shook his head. “This is their home, Seeker.”

“The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things.” Harding gestured into the valley below. “Mother Giselle’s at the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long. You best get going. No time to lose.”

Ember peered over the cliff, the sounds of fighting rising up to meet them. She took a breath and rolled her shoulder. "All right." Taking out a dagger, she spun it expertly in her hand. If they wanted her to kill people, she was more than happy to oblige. Maybe then things would start to feel normal again. "Let's go find this Chantry Mother, shall we?"
–----------------------------

“Do you have something to ask me, Commander?” Leliana set aside a missive, glancing at the man. He’d been standing on the other side of the table with an unsure look on his face for a suspiciously long time.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable though there was no reason for him to be. He was allowed to ask questions about those that gave him concern. Leliana was there to provide them with information and that's all he wanted. “Our new Herald-”

“Ah.” She shifted focus onto him, gesturing for the messengers in the room to exit. “Curious about anything in particular?”

“It’s my responsibility to keep those under my command safe and if she’s in any way…dangerous, then I need to know.” When Leliana only stared at him, he let out an exasperated breath. “The lockpicking tools. The daggers. Why would a noblewoman need such things?”

“Oh, for many reasons, I am sure.” With a sly smile, Leliana looked at the map. “Our Herald is the youngest child from a minor noble house in Ostwick. Josephine knows them to be reputable, but I’m looking into it.” She tapped a finger on the Free Marches. “I see no reason not to trust her for the moment. She’s been helpful so far.”

He grunted in agreement but he knew how quickly helpful could turn sour.

“Do not worry, Commander. I have eyes on her. She will prove herself friend or foe soon enough. Besides," she shifted her focus back to her stack of reports, scribbling a note on one, "Cassandra is with her. If the Herald does anything she shouldn't, I expect our Seeker will handle it."

The Spymaster’s words only left him with more questions, but he nodded and pushed aside his thoughts of Ember as well as he could. They would know her worth before long. But Andraste help him, he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d smiled at him.
–----------------------------

“Is even terrain too much to ask for?” Varric grumbled as he tripped over a rock and just barely righted himself before falling.

“Is there a problem?” Cassandra asked tightly.

“You might be used to traipsing through the countryside - punching dragons, interrogating people, or whatever it is you did before this. I’m from the city.” Varric kicked aside a pebble, scowling at it and the nature that surrounded them.

As Cassandra laughed, Ember smiled in understanding. She’d done her fair share of wandering the wilderness but she understood what the dwarf meant. Dirt paths and steep hills weren’t something anyone from the city would be used to.

Needing a distraction, Varric rested his crossbow on his shoulder, forcing a small break in their trek across the Hinterlands. “So, who do you think is the toughest: Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra?”

Cassandra choked on the water she’d been swallowing. “I’m right here, you know.”

He shrugged. “That doesn’t rule you out, Seeker.”

Solas leaned on his staff and raised a brow at the dwarf. “Cullen’s not up for consideration?”

“Curly?” Varric waved a hand in the air. “They just keep him around to look pretty.”

Ember snorted in amusement. Cullen was obviously attractive, but they all knew if it was a battle of strength, it would be between him and Cassandra. Otherwise, her money was on Josephine - anyone that could handle the aristocracy on a daily basis was a beast.

Varric glanced over at the sound, studying her. “You’re pretty good with those knives, yourself. I was too distracted to notice before.”

“And you weren’t distracted here while fighting rogue mages?” Solas asked dryly.

Varric gestured at the fallen bodies around them. “Hardly a challenge.”

Ember cleaned her blades before sliding them back into her belt. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” she replied simply.

The dwarf nodded, scratching his cheek and considering. “Enough to take out nearly as many as I did.”

Cassandra sighed and rolled her eyes. “Maker.”

Ember considered for a moment and found herself willing to bite. “Nearly as many?” She toed the body next to her. “I’m quite sure I took out more.”

“I’m leaving. This is childish.” The Seeker sheathed her sword and headed down the hill.

Solas shook his head and smiled, following behind her.

“Well then.” Varric’s eyes glimmered mischievously. “Looks like we should do a count. Just to make sure. After all, what could it hurt to…keep track?”

Ember grinned, the joy of competition humming through her. “A reasonable request. We wouldn’t want any future misunderstandings on who’s the better killer, would we?”

With a chuckle, the dwarf holstered his crossbow and began to pull bolts from the bodies. “I think I might end up liking you, Herald.”

“We’ll see how you feel when I outdo you.” She knelt down to inspect some of the dead, confirming her number. “Winner gets drinks back at Haven?”

He glanced at her, his gaze going wistful for a moment as he thought of another dark-haired rogue who he’d spent many years drinking and fighting with. “You have yourself a deal.”
–----------------------------

"Mother Giselle?" Ember stepped into the house where cots were set up with injured soldiers and villagers laid out upon them. There were other members of the Chantry intermingled with the mages providing healing magics, and Inquisition agents tending to the wounded as best they could - but only one woman wore the robes of a revered mother.

"I am." The tall woman turned towards her, just her hands and face visible beneath the robes and hat of the Chantry. She was older, with a kind and maternal expression, her skin dark against the stark white of her clothes. A small smile crossed her face, wrinkles appearing around her eyes. "And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

The title still made her skin crawl. "Is that why you asked for me? The Chantry has already-"

"I know what they've done." She gestured for someone else to take over with the patient she had been helping.

"Then why am I here?" Surely the woman knew there was no changing Chantry minds.

Mother Giselle watched her for a moment and then nodded, moving to leave the house. "Come with me." She took the lead, going down the steps and walking along the dirt path through the center of the village, the injured, dying and dead all around them. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…" She shook her head, her frown deepening at the piles of dead being gathered in the fields.

Ember had seen her share of death, but never in such numbers. There was no denying the horrors that surrounded them - and the panicked people left behind looking for answers and help. Smoke rose into the air from burning homes and the smell of blood and decay was everywhere. She caught sight of Solas kneeling down to heal a wounded family. Cassandra was conversing with the Inquisition soldiers, instructing them in repairs. And Varric had the haunted look on his face of someone who had seen such destruction before and was tired of it - but still, he helped carry supplies nearby. What more could be done? "But don't you stand with the rest of the Chantry?"

"With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscience, and mine tells me this." With her hands clasped before her, Mother Giselle turned to face Ember, her lips pursed. "Go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightening tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

Everything else fell to the background as she stared up at the revered mother in surprise. "They want to execute me, and you think I should just walk up to them?"

"You are no longer alone," she pointed out, spreading her hands out to encompass the Inquisition members nearby. "They cannot imprison or attack you."

She snorted in disbelief. "They could try." Though she doubted Cassandra would let anyone take her without a fight. With a frustrated sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest, looking out over the ruined village. "Won't me doing that just make it worse?"

Mother Giselle shifted to stand beside her so they both faced the wreckage. "Could it be worse than it is?"

"Probably, yes." Things could always get worse - and it was bad enough as it was without her adding more fuel to the fire.

"Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all." Her voice lowered so only Ember could hear her. "You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

She shook her head, annoyed. "You make it sound simple." And it was anything but. The Chantry may have lost control, but it still had more power than most factions in Thedas. With or without a Divine, chaos was ensuing, and whether they thought she was a demon or not seemed inconsequential.

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us," Mother Giselle admitted. "But I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other." Her back straightened, her hands again clasped in front of her. "You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us…or destroy us."

Her fingers dug into her biceps at the thought. She had no intention of building the Inquisition into anything. It wasn't her group, her responsibility. If she wasn't the only one that could close the rifts, she'd be halfway across the Waking Sea.

But the revered mother seemed to take her silence for some sort of acceptance. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry that would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can." Her piece said, she made her way back to the home full of the injured in need of care.

Ember stayed where she was, trying to keep the bile in her throat from rising. She could feel eyes on her, could hear the whispers about the Herald as soldiers passed by. The mark on her palm was tingling, lightly tugging in a direction to the north where she assumed a rift was open and spilling demons into the world. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to try to keep the nausea at bay, but her head was spinning and her heart was pounding and she needed to run or-

A hand clasped down on her shoulder. "Herald?"

She opened her eyes and looked up in surprise to see Solas beside her, his brows slightly furrowed. A sudden warmth seeped into her and calmed her thoughts and clenching stomach. She let out a breath and nodded slowly. "I'm fine."

He watched her another moment and then dropped his hand and stepped back to give her space. "We should speak with this Corporal Vale and see what can be done for these people while we're here."

"Right." Setting her shoulders, she walked with him across the village towards the gathering of Inquisition soldiers, trying not to notice that he kept himself just behind her, ensuring that she was always at the forefront, that she was always leading.
–----------------------------

The Singing Maiden was packed full. As Cullen walked by Haven's tavern, he could hear the talking and shouts from within. Someone was playing the lute and someone else was singing along - badly. But he wasn't one to spend the evening drinking. There was work to be done, especially with the Herald's return from the Hinterlands.

Mother Giselle had arrived first and explained her plan to have Ember meet with more members of the Chantry. She'd given names to Leliana and between the Spymaster and Josephine, a gathering was being scheduled in Val Royeaux. The amount of faith they were putting on the woman to keep the Chantry from trying to dismantle them…

He paused as he approached the bonfire that was built up near the tavern, cursing at himself for somehow summoning the Herald with his thoughts of her.

Ember stood beside the fire, seemingly lost in thought as she stared into the flames. She looked up when she heard footsteps draw closer, surprised to see the Commander - the intensity of his gaze made her fingers clench on the bottle of wine she held and her heart pound. Confused, she shook her head and forced herself to relax. "Here for a drink?" she offered.

Cullen hesitated, trying to think of an excuse to leave. But the bottle she held up was half-empty and her cheeks were flushed. There was a crooked smile on her face yet something seemed…off. "Herald, are you-"

"Ember," she interrupted, gesturing around them. "It's just the two of us here." She reached down and picked up a mug - one that Flissa had given her when she'd taken the wine, but she'd chosen the bottle instead. She poured the alcohol and then shoved the cup into his hand.

"So it is," he mumbled, trying to not think too hard about that fact, brow furrowed as he looked down at the contents of what had been given to him.

She took a drink out of the bottle, watching him. There was something about his rigid, serious manner that she wanted to prod at, and she'd had enough to drink to ignore the voice in her head that told her to leave and avoid anything to do with him. "You don't have to be so formal with me. I'd prefer it if you weren't. I get enough of it from everyone else." She jerked her chin towards the tavern. "Why don't you drink with your men?"

“Why don’t you drink with yours?” he said before he could stop himself, instantly regretting it. He opened his mouth to apologize but when he looked at her, he saw she was grinning and the words caught in his throat.

“A fair point,” she conceded. “I was supposed to be drinking with Varric. He killed more people than I did.”

He wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. The way the firelight danced across her skin and lit her dark hair kept distracting him. "Pardon?"

“A bet that I sadly lost.” She sighed and held out her free hand to the flames to warm it. “He has quite the advantage with Bianca. Against a regular crossbow, I definitely would’ve won. But I’ll do better next time.”

“I’m…sure.” Cullen wondered if he'd somehow stepped into a dream. The snow falling around them seemed to almost block out the rest of the world. While he could see light and hear laughter coming from the tavern, and he knew there were others milling about the village, they felt very much alone. His hand tightened on the mug and he took a drink, grimacing against the taste.

Ember waited for him to swallow before speaking again. “I should get to know you better.” At his sudden confused look, she smiled innocently. “We’re working together, after all.”

He floundered for a moment, uncertain. He wasn’t used to talking about himself - rarely wanted to. “What would you like to know?”

“All right.” She thought back to the similar conversation she’d had with Cassandra. “Where are you from?”

His shoulders relaxed at the simple question. “I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight.” With a frown, he looked out over the village and the surrounding lands, blanketed in snow. “This is the first I’ve returned in almost ten years,” he said quietly.

She felt a spark of satisfaction at having guessed correctly about him being Fereldan but then her brows rose in surprise at his final statement. “You haven’t seen Ferelden in ten years? Are you glad to be back?”

“I was not sorry to leave at the time. I did not expect to return,” he admitted. “Now - between the Divine’s murder and the Breach - I’ve arrived to find nothing but chaos.”

“Not quite the homecoming you were hoping for, then.” She wondered if he’d been sent to Kirkwall against his wishes or if he’d chosen to leave behind his homeland. The Blight had sent many Fereldan’s north, but she’d assumed at least some templars had stayed behind to help.

He hummed in agreement. “Leliana mentioned you were from Ostwick.” If his chance to learn more about her meant standing outside in the cold with terrible wine in hand, so be it. She had become more important to their cause than he'd expected, and the sooner he could determine if she was trustworthy or not, the better.

“The Trevelyan estate is there, in all its ostentatious glory." She knew she didn't have to tell him anything else, knew she could lie or ignore any questions he had. But her tongue felt loose and her walls were down and she wanted to tell someone about herself so they'd know her for who she actually was and not just as the Herald. "I left when I was seventeen and I've spent the last nine years elsewhere."

His gaze sharpened, fairly certain Leliana hadn’t mentioned such a thing. “Elsewhere?”

She shrugged, swirling the wine in her mug. “I made my way to Starkhaven and joined a mercenary company there. We moved around depending on the job - Ansburg, Tantervale, a year in Wycome. Yet always back to Starkhaven.” She’d considered it home for a time, but that was over. She frowned, blinking at the fire. If she left the Inquisition, where would she go? Tracking down Finn and putting a knife in his heart would be first, of course, but after that?

He stared at her, shocked at the information. “You’re a mercenary.” It didn’t make sense to him - she was a noble, wasn’t she? “But you were a representative of the Trevelyan family at the Conclave.”

“I was a mercenary,” she corrected dully. “That changed once my father decided he wanted me on that mountain. But when the explosion happened…I was trying to run.”

“Run where?” He watched her closely, studying the profile of her face, lit by fire and moonlight.

“Here, actually. I’d hoped to find Haven. Suppose I did in the end.” She blew out a breath and then took a deep drink. “It’s cold, but there are worse places I could have found myself.” Though she would have preferred being there as a normal person, not as the chosen of Andraste.

He knew there was more to it than she was saying. Leliana had told him that she was keeping an eye on things, that they’d see if their new member was friend or foe - the Spymaster had to already know what the woman had done before joining them. Yet she hadn’t brought it up, and from the reports he’d received, Ember had been nothing but helpful in the field. His suspicion only grew. "I suppose that explains your fighting ability. And the lockpicks."

"Curious about that, were you?" She looked up at him with a smirk, but found herself drawn into the steady golden-brown of his eyes. She wanted to lean closer, to push back his disheveled hair and…Shaking herself out of it, she dropped her gaze to the wine bottle. She didn't feel drunk but perhaps the alcohol was stronger than she'd thought. "You were in Ferelden during the Blight," she said quickly, grasping at the first thing that came to mind. "Did you fight darkspawn?"

"No." As much as the questions about her plagued him, the reminder of his time during the Blight stopped him from asking, a shadow passing over his face. “I was stationed at Ferelden’s Circle tower. The Circle had troubles of its own.” He took another drink of wine. “I…remained there during the Blight.”

So he hadn’t been a templar delegated to a random Chantry in some small Ferelden town - he’d actually been in the Circle itself, with the mages. She tilted her head to the side slightly, watching him out of the corners of her eyes. “What happened at the Circle tower?”

He kept his gaze on the fire, expression somber as he tried to keep the memories of that time at bay. “Few who survived the Blight have fond memories of that time. I would prefer not to speak of it.”

“Of course,” she said softly. She didn't want to dig into his past. She didn't want to prove herself wrong and discover he was a good man. "What was Kirkwall like? It's one of the few places in the Free Marches I haven't gone." Hawke and her companions had already made a name for themselves by the time she'd joined her company and Kirkwall was deemed too much trouble.

Cullen glanced at her, his voice taking on a sardonic tone. “While I was there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city, the Viscount’s murder caused political unrest…” he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “Relations between mages and templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander went mad.” He paused to take a drink. “Other than that, it was fine.”

“Never a dull day, then.” She’d heard about parts of it, but she wondered what it had been like to be there at the start of the mage rebellion. “What happened between Kirkwall’s mages and templars?”

“You were at the Conclave,” he pointed out. “You must have heard people speak of it.”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention.” She’d had other things on her mind. “You were there.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “There was tension between the mages and templars long before I arrived. Eventually, it reached a breaking point.” His frown deepened. “There was fighting in the streets. Abominations began killing both sides. It was a nightmare.”

No wonder the man looked so tired and haunted most of the time - he’d been through more than many of them, and had seen things no one should see. She couldn't stop herself from being curious. “What happened then?”

“The templars should have restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad. She threatened to kill Kirkwall’s Champion, turned on her own men.” He looked down at the wine left in his mug and then finished it. “I’m not sure how far she would have gone. Too far.”

Ember remembered parts of the story from Varric’s book. He’d written the final battle with Meredith like something out of a dream - moving statues that attacked on Meredith’s command, allies joining the fray left and right, Hawke’s last stand against the tyrant templar. “So you opposed her?”

Cullen inclined his head, remembering Meredith calling for Hawke's death and his own decision to put himself between the women. “I stood with the Champion against her. In the end. But I should have seen through Meredith sooner.”

A heavy silence hung over them for a moment before Ember spoke again. “Varric’s from Kirkwall,” she said lightly, gesturing at the tavern. “Did you two know each other?”

“I knew he was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall, but little else.” He shifted to give her more access to the fire, noticing the way she was beginning to shiver. “We’ve spoken more since I joined the Inquisition. Largely at Varric’s insistence. Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it’s bad for my health.”

She choked on a laugh, looking up at him in amusement. “He’s probably right,” she managed to say, smiling. “It doesn’t hurt to have a little fun now and then, you know.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Deftly, he took the empty bottle from her and stopped a passing soldier, instructing him to take it and the cup back to the tavern. “You should get inside,” he said softly as the man left and they were once again alone. “It will only get colder. This fire won’t do much for you soon.” He had more questions for her, but her body was starting to sway, her eyelids to droop. He knew enough to go to Leliana with and the rest…time would tell.

She bit back the denial, confused on why she wanted to argue and stay with him longer. Perhaps it would be better to leave. “You’re right. Us Marchers aren’t quite built for this weather.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she inclined her head before stepping away. “Thank you for the conversation. Commander.”

“Herald.” He waited until she was out of sight before relaxing his clenched hands and letting out a shaky breath. He’d told her more than he’d told anyone in a long time, and despite the reminders of the horrors he’d lived through, he felt better for having spoken with her. He shook his head as if that could somehow get the thought of her out of his mind and turned away from the fire to find his way to the barracks.

Chapter Text

"Herald, I'd like to discuss your parents."

Ember felt her stomach drop but she kept her eyes on the map she'd been studying in the War Room. "You must want to know about the seventh most illustrious family in all of Ostwick," she said as calmly as possible, though she was unable to keep the bite out of her voice. "Or is it eighth?"

Josephine ignored her tone and the snort of amusement from Cassandra. “Whatever the rank, it would be helpful to claim your kinsmen as friends. What are your thoughts?” Her quill was poised over the parchment on her writing board, her brow arched. “Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?”

She tapped a finger on the map where the estate was. “The banns of Trevelyan never turn down a partner if there’s something in it for them. From the way my relatives scramble for status, you’d think we were Orlesian.”

The ambassador’s other brow rose, undeterred. “That depends: how much do they like gold brocade?”

“Josie,” Leliana chided from where she and Cullen were sorting through reports.

If her father hadn't yet heard about the Conclave and what had happened to her, it wouldn't be long before he did. The idea of him knowing where she was made her…itchy. But they needed allies and resources and as much as she hated it, the Trevelyan's could provide. "My parents are on a first-name basis with most priests in Ostwick, and I have a dozen cousins in the Chantry. When they hear I've been 'touched by Andraste', you'll have to stop them from giving you money."

Cullen frowned at the anger he heard beneath her coating of sarcasm, his eyes lifting from the missive in his hand to study her. Her expression was casual, amused, but there was a stiffness to the way she held herself that wasn't usually there.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Josephine made a mark on her parchment. “Val Royeaux has noted your lineage. It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not as much as we’d hoped. Orlesian nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat…quaint."

The fact that she wasn't even a proper noble to those backing the Inquisition and its Herald made her lips curve. "Can't blame them. Orlais has a proper empire. Free Marchers never unite until darkspawn knock at their door.”

“If even then,” Cullen remarked under his breath.

Josephine shot him a look. “No one doubts their ferocity when it happens. Free Marchers are renowned for their tenacity.” She made a face as if embarrassed. “Speaking of which, I should thank you for your patience with the simple quarters. The accommodations in Haven are surely rough for someone of your birth.”

Ember chuckled, amused at the thought. She hadn't lived somewhere that would meet a noble's sense of 'good quarters' in a very long time. “Don’t worry about me. Haven’s more than livable.”

“Really?” The Ambassador appeared shocked and a little disappointed. The accommodations were very obviously lacking in her mind. “If that’s how you feel, I’m pleased to hear it.”

“We should be off,” Cassandra cut in, looking at Ember pointedly. “Val Royeaux is waiting.”

Cullen set the report down, frowning at the women. "Are we really doing this?"

"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea," Josephine argued.

"You can't be serious," he muttered, shaking his head. Did they really think a mercenary that didn't even seem to believe in the Maker would sway anyone?

The Ambassador straightened her spine. "Mother Giselle isn't wrong: at the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion."

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana gestured at Ember. "We cannot afford to lose her."

"Let's ask her," Josephine suggested, turning to the woman in question and waiting for a response.

She spread her hands in an uncertain shrug. "I'm more concerned this won't actually solve any problems." Having the support of the Chantry meant little if they had nothing to provide to the Inquisition's cause.

"I agree." Cullen nodded in her direction, pleased at her sensibilities. "It just lends credence to the idea that we should care what the Chantry says."

"We have no choice." Cassandra waved her hand in the air dismissively. "We will see this through, for better or worse. Let us be done with it." Her words held a note of finality and no one deemed it worth arguing further.

As Cassandra pushed open the door and the others began to depart, Leliana placed a hand on Ember's arm to hold her back. "A word before you go."

Cullen hesitated, curious what the Spymaster had to say, but then Josephine moved along beside him and began to speak in a hushed voice and he had little choice but to follow her out of the room.

“Will your family be a problem?” Leliana asked bluntly once the door closed and they were left alone. “You must be aware that I’ve looked into you. I know what they’re like and why you avoid them. If it would be better for Josie to not reach out-”

She shook her head, knowing it was pointless. "This is an ideal situation for them. Not exactly what they'd expected to come out of me attending the Conclave, I'm sure, but beneficial nonetheless." And maybe that would please them enough to leave her alone.

Leliana studied her for a moment and then inclined her head. "Josie will let us know if your relatives try to use this for any…unsavory dealings."

"They're Trevelyans," she said wearily. "All of their dealings are unsavory." It annoyed her how much bitterness still festered inside of her - she'd spent years doing her best to forget where she'd come from. However, if they were going to use her, she might as well use them right back. The sooner the Inquisition had what it needed to take care of the Breach, the sooner she'd be free of the responsibility. She paused before leaving the room, looking over her shoulder at the Orlesian woman. "Leliana, I'm curious about something myself. You have a history with the Warden who ended the Blight, don't you?"

She nodded, shifting through the pile of reports on the table. "I count her amongst my closest friends. She's probably the only person I trust completely." Her hands paused in their sorting. "I haven't heard from her in some time. She just…disappeared. I try not to think of what might have happened."

Ember had heard of Ella's mysterious disappearance two years before. While the king remained strong and steadfast in the absence of his wife, much of Ferelden worried for their lost queen and Hero - an added instability in a land suddenly beset by the Breach and rifts. "She's lucky to have a friend like you, who worries for her in such a way."

"I would prefer it if she gave me less to worry about," the Spymaster muttered.

"That doesn't seem like something a hero would do." She left Leliana to her reports, making her way through the Chantry. Occasionally it would hit her that she was spending time and interacting with people that had known and been at the sides of the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall - both impressive women from tales far grander than she ever imagined her life would be. Yet they'd all started out as inconsequential people before fate had intervened, hadn't they? And now she had a title of her own…

"Knight-Captain!"

Ember stopped with her hand on the door, a sudden commotion on the other side echoing through the thick wood. As quietly as possible, she pushed it open just enough to see that right outside was a large group of people, split into templars on one side and mages on the other. Cullen was standing in the middle, arms held out to keep them apart.

“That is not my title,” Cullen growled, using his size to his advantage in blocking the two arguing men from each other. “We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!”

A scoff sounded as Chancellor Roderick approached through the crowd, his expression smug, his hands clasped behind his back. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

Cullen bit back a sigh, his voice dripping with disdain. "Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?"

"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised." A thin smile spread across his face.

"Of course you are." Cullen turned away from the Chancellor to address those still gathered around him. "Back to your duties, all of you." He watched them walk away with a stern gaze to ensure they did as they were told, and then shook his head. "Mages and templars were already at war. Now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

Roderick pitched his voice higher to make sure those leaving could still hear him. "Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order."

Cullen laughed incredulously. "Who, you? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"

The Chancellor let out a frustrated huffing noise, not backing down when the large Fereldan man turned to glare at him, but not moving any closer either. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'? I think not."

If the man was going to insult her, he might as well do so to her face. Ember pushed open the door and stepped out to stand beside Cullen. "I don't know," she remarked lightly, "the Inquisition seems about as functional as any young family."

Roderick didn't show any surprise at her appearance, though his dark eyes narrowed in her direction. "How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?"

"Yes, because that would never happen to the Chantry." Cullen scowled.

"Centuries of tradition guide us," the Chancellor sputtered. "We're not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart."

She tilted her head towards Cullen. "Remind me why you're allowing the Chancellor to stay?"

"Clearly your templar knows where to draw the line," Roderick said smugly.

"He's toothless. There's no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth." He desperately wanted to silence the man himself, but as Commander, he had to lead by example.

"Better ready yourself for the blame you will be rightly assigned, Herald." With an annoyed sniff, Roderick turned on his heel and stomped away, leaving the two of them alone.

"The Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux," Cullen warned, feeling on edge. It was difficult enough trying to keep the mages and templars from each other's throats without the man's snide comments making it worse.

"Well," she shuddered dramatically, "let's hope we find a solution and not a cathedral full of chancellors."

His scarred lip lifted into a small smile despite himself. "The stuff of nightmares." He shifted to look at her, his smile disappearing. "What will you tell them in Val Royeaux?"

"Varric suggests lying." She pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering. "But I suspect you lean more towards telling the truth."

"I'm not so sure," he admitted. "If the truth is that you have no memory between trying to run from the Conclave and ending up in Haven's dungeon…I suspect they'll find fault with that."

She hummed in agreement. "Maybe I could leave out the 'trying to run' part. Keep that between the two of us."

He didn't know how to feel about being the only one that knew something about her. He cleared his throat and nodded. "That might be for the best."

"I doubt it'll matter." She looked at the mark on her hand, dormant and otherwise nondescript - but she'd seen what it was capable of and could feel the humming of it in her veins. "The Chantry needs a scapegoat and I'm easy to blame."

"You are." When she frowned up at him, he shrugged. "You were the only person that survived the explosion. You emerged from the Fade with the figure of a woman people believe to be Andraste behind you, yet you claim to not be chosen. The mark gives you the ability to close the rifts, which we all know is a gift - but they'll see as evidence that you caused them to begin with."

"Well, when you say it all out loud like that," she muttered, a hollow feeling spreading in her gut. It wasn't as if Roderick hadn't said much of the same, but it felt different coming from Cullen. He was…solid and steady and reasonable.

There were far too many questions surrounding her, far too many unknowns. Sending her to Val Royeaux was dangerous - many in the Chantry wanted to string her up as an example. If she didn't return, what would they do? "Can you convince them otherwise? That you're not to blame, that you had no part in what happened?"

She considered, knowing he wasn't just asking her about her ability to persuade people that were set in their opinions. "No," she said quietly. "Because it's possible they're right, isn't it?"

He hadn't expected her to say such a thing and the shock of it, mixed with the sudden uncertainty in her eyes, made him feel like a fool for even suggesting…"That's not what I-"

"Herald!" Cassandra called, gesturing at her from where she waited down the path. "We must depart."

Shaking off the dark mood, Ember turned away, annoyed that she'd let him get to her. "Don't let anyone riot while we're gone, Commander."

He wanted to stop her, to apologize and try to explain that he was only worried for her safety, but the words fumbled on his tongue. "The walls will be standing when you return," he said instead, glancing up at the Breach. "I hope."
–----------------------------

The cheapest inn within Val Royeaux still emptied their coin-purses more than expected. And Ember was confident the innkeeper had increased the price at each insult paid to him - they were foreigners, there were two non-humans in the group, and they were part of the Inquisition. As that seemed to be the worst offense, she decided to leave out the fact that she was the Herald on the chance he kicked them out of the place entirely.

She placed four tankards on a small table in the corner of the inn that they'd taken for themselves, trying to ignore the looks and whispers from other patrons. "I paid far too much money for what I'm sure is just incredibly watered-down ale, but I doubt we'll get better while here."

Cassandra shook her head, shocked and lost for words. "That was…"

"It could have gone worse, Seeker." Varric sniffed at the tankard, wrinkling his nose. Then he shrugged and took a drink anyway.

"It could have gone better," Ember pointed out, leaning back in her chair and holding the tankard aloft but only tapping her fingers against it as she thought about what had been awaiting them when they'd arrived in the city. She'd expected the people to shy away from her due to her being an obvious blasphemous demon. She hadn't even been that surprised when they found the Chantry clerics waiting for them in the open market, already denouncing her before everyone gathered to watch. But she hadn't been expecting the templars.

Cassandra's expression shifted into a scowl and she glared towards the door of the inn. "I thought the templars were here to protect the people, not-"

"Punch revered mothers of the Chantry in the face and then walk away?" Ember sipped at the ale. "Seems the messaging got confused along the way."

"Does this work in our favor somehow?" Solas asked, ignoring the drink before him.

She rocked her free hand side-to-side. "It weakens the Chantry by showing the templars have no intention of rejoining the fold. You heard the people afterwards - they're scared. They thought the Chantry would fix the Breach with the templars help, but now who are they going to turn to?" They'd recruited an agent for the Inquisition based on that alone. "We're a last resort, but we're quickly becoming the only one."

Varric wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. "And we got that invitation to Redcliffe from the Grand Enchanter."

"Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember," Cassandra muttered. "I do not know what he has done with the Order, but perhaps not all of them care to follow his ways."

"The others can decide when we get back to Haven with the news. For now," Ember tossed two pieces of parchment onto the table - one stained and ragged around the edges, the other pristine with fancy inkwork glistening across it. "We have our own options."

Solas looked at the more worn down note. "That one is a trap."

"Obviously a trap," agreed Varric.

Cassandra jerked her chin at the perfumed one. "And that is an invitation to Madame de Fer's salon, yes?"

Varric chuckled, his words echoing in the tankard as he took another drink. "A fancier trap."

'Well, do we attend to the fancy trap or the obvious trap first?" Anything to get her out of a place where everyone was staring at them.

"I don't know about you, Herald, but the rest of us aren't exactly salon material." The dwarf gestured at himself, the elf, and the scarred warrior. "You're a noble, aren't you?"

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Technically."

He lifted the mug in a toast. "We'll leave that one to you, then."

Ember looked down at the notes and then sighed deeply. She couldn't deny that she had a curiosity about both options and if she had to go alone for one of them, so be it. "Fine. I'll go to the salon. But then we go check out the obvious trap together. Orlesian aristocracy always makes me crave a fight."
–----------------------------

After Val Royeaux, Haven was a welcome sight. Ember sat near the single window in the Singing Maiden, holding up a hand and gesturing to Flissa for two tankards.

"So, this is it, huh?" A lithe elf in ragged clothes with choppy blond hair looked around the tavern, lounging in the chair across from her and making a face. "Oh, no, it's fine, yeah? It's just, I thought it'd be bigger." Her face broke into a wide smile and she turned to Ember with a snort. "Pfft, that would've been hilarious if you were a man, right? Wasted."

Taking the mugs from a stricken-looking Flissa, she slid one across the table to Sera. "You can try it again with someone else."

"Maybe. Anyway," Sera took the drink, sloshing it around. "Stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than this. Need things back to normal for coins to be flowing again. Another reason the templars and mages need to be sat down."

"I'm pretty sure the Conclave proved it's not that easy." She leaned back in the chair, taking a deep drink. It was good to have ale that actually tasted of ale. Val Royeaux had been a mess, but at least they'd gained more people - even if it meant surviving an Orlesian salon and an ambush of half-naked soldiers. The latter had been far more entertaining and made her all the more curious about the Red Jenny before her.

"Yes, it is," Sera argued.

Ember arched a brow. "No, it isn't?" She'd sat through days of debates and lectures in the Conclave and there'd been no real progress in stopping the war.

"Why?" She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. "Because someone yelled it real loud? Make them prove it." She jerked her head upward. "They're too busy to look up where the real questions are."

"Right, they should know it's a simple job." She lifted her tankard, smiling. "End all war, stitch the sky." She shrugged, taking another drink. "The easy one first, of course."

Sera stared at her for a moment and then burst into raucous laughter that bounced off the walls of the tavern. "You're daft, yeah? Most people get special, they lose their snerk. Can't see how stupid it all is." Grinning, she looked Ember up and down with curious blue eyes. "I think I'll like you, Lady Herald. Maybe you are a little touched, yeah?"

She probably was - probably had to be to deal with everything going on and what was suddenly expected of her. "As long as the job gets done, I don't care about the rest." She didn't see the point in complicating things. Get what was needed and close the Breach. Then everyone could go back to fighting and she could disappear from the story.

"Fact!" Sera lifted her ale, grinning. "Spare the frills, just get it all back to normal. Best plan I've heard. Only plan I've heard really. Everyone up their own arses." She drank and then slammed the mug down on the table, ale splashing over the rim. "Let's get things done."

Chucking, Ember shook her head, but tilted her drink forward in agreement. The girl was refreshing, if a bit hard to follow. She needed someone that would push her to finish what had been started and to remind her that the life she'd been living as Herald was not actually hers. A Red Jenny may not be a mercenary, but they were both some type of criminal. It was important to remember what and who she was. "I think I'll like you too, Sera."
–----------------------------

The Chantry was quiet and only dimly-lit with the few candles that hadn't been put out in case anyone wandered in - it was the middle of the night, but some preferred to pray in solitude and silence.

Ember had no intention of praying, but the solitude drew her in. She sat in one of the pews that had been pushed out of the way and against a wall, leaning her head back. She bit back a sigh when she saw that right across from her was a statue of Andraste, but she didn't move from her spot, instead staring down the stone woman while she cradled her marked hand in her lap. Her thumb pressed into the palm as if the pressure could somehow soothe the deep ache that had woken her from her sleep.

"I met an elven mage earlier." A smooth, lilting voice came from beside her as Vivienne settled in at the end of the pew. "Solas, I believe he was called. I admit, I was surprised. I didn't expect to find mages among the Inquisition." Her dark eyes looked pointedly at Ember's hand. "Tell me: why were you at the Divine Conclave?"

"The war benefits no one," she muttered, closing her hand into a fist to hide the mark.

The mage hummed lightly in agreement, crossing her long legs gracefully. "If only the rebels saw things so clearly. Justiana's death shattered the balance of power in Thedas. If it is not restored quickly, countless lives will be lost. Mages, templars, innocent people of all kinds now look to the Inquisition to decide their fate." Her gaze lifted to Ember's face, studying and evaluating with no attempt to hide that she was doing so.

Ember met her gaze, letting the silence hang between them for a few long moments. "I'm not deciding anything," she insisted.

"Actions have consequences, my dear. Do not imagine yours will go unnoticed by history." She shifted to also look at the curve of Andraste's face. "For a thousand years, the world believed it was in the hands of the Maker. And now many believe you are the agent of His will. Whatever the truth is, that belief gives you power."

She closed her eyes in exhaustion. "Nobody should claim to know the will of the Maker. Not me, and not the Chantry."

"Perhaps nobody should," she agreed. "But if no one leads the way, many will be left behind in the darkness." She let her words sink in before standing and brushing her hands over her robes to dust them off. "I've stolen enough of your time, my dear. Don't let me keep you."

Ember stayed where she was as the woman walked away, heels clicking against the stone. Wearily, she opened her eyes, frowning at Andraste. "What would you do?" she found herself asking the statue. "Would you leave and let them sort this mess out themselves?"

There was no answer for her, only silence.

Blowing out a breath, she leaned forward and rested her forearms on her thighs, once again pressing her thumb into her palm. "You wouldn't, of course. Bloody martyr." She contemplated Vivienne's words as she massaged her hand. If no one led…if no one made the decisions that needed to be made…then where did that leave the people they were most trying to help?

And what right did she have to be the one to make those choices?

Chapter Text

Cullen hadn't spoken with the Herald since her return from Val Royeaux. There'd been meetings in the War Room with her and the other advisors, of course, but nothing…direct. Either she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her or perhaps both. Which shouldn't bother him - but it did.

"Chancellor Roderick came to speak with me," Josephine broached, standing beside him on the hill that overlooked Haven and the training fields. "Could you try not to antagonize him?"

"If I offend the man so easily, perhaps he should try leaving me alone." The Chancellor seemed to think it his solemn duty to inform Cullen of every bad rumor or imagined misstep of the Herald, and his patience for it had run thin.

She sighed, lifting her writing board to a better angle and poising her quill over the parchment attached to it. "I'll suggest it."

"That would be appreciated." Shaking his head, he gestured towards the fields where lumber was stacked in the preparation of building more defenses for the town. "Do you see where that trebuchet is? I believe that we should…" his words trailed off as he caught sight of Ember entering through the front gates and making her way towards the Chantry.

At the sudden silence, Josephine paused in her writing. "You were saying something about…Cullen?"

"Hmm?" He snapped his attention back to her, trying to remember what he'd been talking about. "I, ah-Yes. Haven has limited space for our soldiers to train. Perhaps we could set up something over there." He pointed towards where he was thinking of adding additional resources, but found his gaze wandering back towards Ember. He bit back a sigh, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Josephine nodded, finishing her notes with a flourish. "I will see what can be done, but I believe it's doable. We are receiving more and more pledges by the day, thanks to the Herald. As the war continues, there is more demand for a force to be there in times of need."

"And we'll provide, should I have the space to get these recruits to a point where they can hold a sword from the correct end."

"Something we'd all benefit from." The Ambassador lowered her writing board. "If you'll excuse me, Cullen, I need to go make apologies to a few of our visitors regarding the Herald's own new recruit."

He inclined his head and waited patiently for Josephine to walk away and occupy herself elsewhere. Then he immediately began making his way towards the Chantry, finding that he couldn't help himself in seeking out Ember. If there was a problem between them that needed to be resolved, he would do so. For the sake of the Inquisition.

Cullen found her leaning back against the outer Chantry wall, just off to the side and out of plain sight. She hadn't noticed him and was staring off towards the lake, looking contemplative. He paused, studying her profile and the way the sun warmed her skin and how her lips were always slightly curved into an amused smile. He felt something shift within him, though he wasn't sure what, and he didn't want to know. Shaking it off, he continued towards her. "You've recruited more people."

Ember's smile grew at the exhausted annoyance in his voice. She looked up at him, squinting against the sun. "I take it that tone means you've met Sera."

“Met is one way to phrase it.” He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Herald, I don’t know if bringing her on board is the wisest decision.” He shifted to stand in front of her, his height shading her.

“She seems fun.” She shrugged as his scowl deepened. “If these Red Jenny’s can be helpful, then it’s worth it. We need all the allies we can get. And I could use more people to take into the field when Solas or Cassandra are otherwise occupied.”

He didn’t bother asking about Varric. He knew what sort of trouble Hawke had gotten herself into back in Kirkwall, and suspected the dwarf liked to be in the thick of things. “You’ll be leaving soon to meet with this mercenary company in the Storm Coast, won’t you?”

Nodding, she glanced past him towards the path. “I’m waiting for the others now. We'll go to the Hinterlands afterwards so I expect we'll be gone for a while."

Which meant he needed to speak with her before she left. "I wanted to…the last time we spoke, alone, I…I shouldn't have insinuated that you were at fault, or that…"

She watched him as he struggled to find the words, doing her best to keep herself from smiling. "Are you trying to apologize?"

"Yes. I didn't realize I was so terrible at it." It was frustrating, especially when she only continued to look at him expectantly, obviously enjoying his torment. "I'm sorry. I was concerned about what would happen in Val Royeaux. I know you're not to blame and the others trust you-"

"But you don't." She held up a hand to stop him before he could speak again. "It's all right. I don't trust you either. Still, I appreciate your apology." She hadn't expected it of him and knowing that he didn't think the Breach was her doing lifted a weight off her shoulders she didn't know she was carrying. Why did she care what the man thought of her?

"You don't trust me?" Had he done something to offend her even further that he was unaware of?

"You were a templar," she said as if it was an obvious reason not to trust someone. "And after everything that happened in Val Royeaux…maybe you can tell me more about them."

He was used to mages disliking him for being a templar, but her negative feelings towards them only confused him. "If you need insight into what the Order is doing now, I'm afraid I can't offer more than you already know. Anything else, I will answer as best I can."

She’d hoped he’d be able to explain the odd behavior of the templars at Val Royeaux, but not even Cassandra had answers for them. “Anything else?” She didn't trust him and he didn't trust her and she'd been doing her best to stay away from him ever since returning to Haven, but if he was willing to give her information about himself, she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. "Why did you join the Order?"

“I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need,” he answered honestly. “I used to beg the templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first they merely humored me, but I must have shown promise. Or at least a willingness to learn.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “The Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Thirteen - that’s still so young.”

He shrugged, his hands dropping to rest on the pommel of his sword. “I wasn’t the youngest there. Some children are promised to the Order at infancy. Still, I didn’t take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first.” It felt like many, many lifetimes ago.

“What about your family?” To leave home at such a young age…she wondered if he’d been close to them or if perhaps his family had been more like her own. “Did you miss them?”

“Of course.” It had been hard, at first, leaving everyone and everything he knew behind. “But there were many my age who felt the same. We learned to look out for each other.”

She tilted her head as she processed his answer. Were Fereldan templars different from the ones she’d known in the Free Marches? Or just him? “What does the training involve? I know you’re good with your sword, but I assume there’s more to it.”

He nodded slowly. “There is weapon and combat training. Even without their abilities, templars are among the best warriors in Thedas.”

“Oh, obviously,” she said with a smirk.

He ignored her, though he smiled in response. “Initiates must also memorize portions of the Chant of Light, study history, and improve their mental focus.”

“Ah, yes, there’s the excruciatingly boring part.” Though with the amount of missives and reports he had to pore over on a daily basis…“Did you enjoy it?"

“I wanted to learn everything. If I was giving my life to this, I would be the best templar I could.” The hopes of a young man that seemed far away.

“You were a model student,” she teased.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. “I wanted to be. I wasn’t always successful. Watching a candle burn down while reciting the Chant of Transfiguration wasn’t the most exciting task. I admit, my mind sometimes wandered.” He studied her, perplexed at her questions. “This wasn’t what I expected you to be curious about in regards to the templars.”

"I wondered what value the Order held for you before you left it. Knowing you better will help with the trust, won't it?" She shifted her shoulders at his expectant look - fair was fair. "Younger Trevelyan children usually join the Chantry or the Order. As the youngest of five, my fate was sealed. There was a time I thought I wanted to be a templar and trained hard for it."

The idea of her being a templar felt so out of place, he could only stare. "Instead, you chose to use that training to become a mercenary?"

"I didn't have many other options." On impulse, she bent down and plucked a few dandelions, twirling them in her fingers. "I don't know how the templars operate in Ferelden, but in Ostwick, the Order has more Trevelyan's than they know what to do with. My father was rather disappointed at what they offered him in exchange for me, so he chose another path - one I didn't agree with. I had to leave the estate and when I got to Starkhaven, I was lucky to find a company willing to take in a disgraced noblewoman."

He hadn’t been completely blind during his time as a templar - he knew that parts of the Order were corrupt. He’d served with many good, decent men and women who truly believed in their cause. But he’d also seen his share of bullies, thugs, and younger sons given away for Chantry favor. It didn’t necessarily surprise him that the Order would buy a child, but the idea of Ember being sold off in such a way, and the casual way she talked about it…it turned his stomach. “It’s not how the Order, or the Chantry, should be.”

“No,” she agreed. “Yet it is. Or was. I suppose all of this may lead to some sort of change.” She straightened the flowers, keeping her eyes on them. “It was for the best. I doubt I would have made a good templar.”

He couldn’t quite see her being patient enough to learn Chants and expected she would have fought with every Knight-Commander she interacted with. “It is difficult to imagine, yes.”

“Isn’t it?” With a small smile, she shifted the focus back to him. “You’ve lived in a Circle. What was a typical day for a templar there?”

Her question caught him off guard and Cullen found himself letting out a dry laugh. “‘Typical’. The last time I was in a Circle was right before it fell apart. Nothing was typical.”

“Before that then,” she nudged, giving him an exasperated look before turning her attention back to the stems.

He sighed, giving in. If she wanted to focus on him instead of herself, he would oblige. “Certain rituals require a full guard. A mage’s Harrowing, for instance. I’ve attended a few. Most of the time you merely maintain a presence - on patrol or in the Circle. Ready to respond if needed.” He watched her fingers twist the stems, mesmerized. “Mages pretend to ignore that presence, but they are watching you just as closely.”

“That doesn’t sound very friendly.” She tossed aside the heads of the flowers, the petals leaving behind a yellow dusting on her fingers. “What do you think of mages? Are they all a threat?”

He shook his head, expression somber. “I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it - at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I’ll try not to do so here.” The Inquisition was his chance to atone for much of what he had done in the past and he would see it through. “Not that I want mages moving through our base completely unchecked,” he clarified. “We need safeguards in place to protect people - including mages - from possession, at least.”

She saw the way the corners of his mouth tightened, how his gaze went faraway, and wondered what sort of suffering he’d seen and experienced. “Do templars and mages never speak to each other?”

“Some do. But templars are supposed to maintain a certain distance from their charges. If a mage is possessed or uses blood magic, you must act quickly, without hesitation. Your judgement cannot be clouded.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course, ignoring one another does nothing to foster understanding.”

“I met a mage nearby one of the villages in the Hinterlands. I’d found a letter for her on a dead templar. When I gave it to her, she told me they’d been friends for many years during their time together in the Circle.” Her eyes lifted up to his and she smiled slyly. “And lovers for many more.”

Cullen felt his ears go hot and looked away. “That’s…templars and their charges…it’s inappropriate. But I suppose, uh, it does happen. Though it shouldn’t, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, returning her attention to the stems. “Do templars take vows? ‘I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages’ - that sort of thing?”

He did his best to get himself under control, cursing her for her ability to twist him up and then continue on as if nothing had happened. “There’s a vigil first. You’re meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it’s over, you give yourself over to the life of service.” The memory of his own vigil calmed and angered him in equal measure. “That’s when you’re given a philter - your first draught of lyrium - and its power. As templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen.”

She nodded sagely, continuing to twist and tie the stems together. “A life of service and sacrifice. Are templars also expected to give up…physical temptations?”

Cullen blinked, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Physical? Why…” he paused to clear his throat, trying to keep his voice level. “Why would you…That’s not expected.” He took a breath, intent on answering as calmly as possible. “Templars can marry - although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission…some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required.” Maker. What was it about the woman that always tangled his tongue?

Ember straightened from her position against the wall, closing some of the distance between them. “Have you?” she asked quietly, meeting his gaze. She wanted to tease him, enjoying how flustered it made him, but was surprised to feel her own heart skip a beat at their proximity.

“Me?” He wasn’t sure he still knew how to breathe. Why wasn’t he capable of stepping back? “I…um…no. I’ve taken no such vows.” He closed his eyes to keep himself from staring at her mouth. “Maker’s breath - can we speak of something else?”

“Herald!” Varric came up the path, pulling on his coat. “Ready to go? Seeker’s frothing about this distraction so we should probably handle it quickly.” He glanced up at Cullen. “You might want to get out of the sun, Curly - face looks a little flushed.”

Hiding her smile, Ember waved the dwarf off. “I’m right behind you.” She waited for Varric to shrug and walk away before holding her hand out to Cullen. “Here.” She dropped the stems into his palm. “For you, Commander.”

Bemused, he watched her join the others and head towards the front gates of Haven. Then he looked down at his palm and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading. She’d twisted and tied the flower stems into a small sword shape, similar to the one he carried. He barely knew the woman, hardly understood her, and definitely didn't fully trust her - but despite his better judgement, he found her incredibly fascinating.
–----------------------------

“So, the Ben-Hassrath,” Cullen questioned as he studied a new marker on the map. He hadn't been sure about the Inquisition recruiting a mercenary company to begin with, but knowing that their captain was also a spy for the Qunari? It put them in a delicate position.

Josephine chewed her bottom lip, reading through the report in her hand. “We will need to handle this…carefully.”

“I will,” Leliana promised, smiling as she held out a piece of parchment towards Cullen. "Report for you, Commander."

He looked at her curiously before taking it. "Why wasn't it filed with the others?"

“It’s from the Herald,” she explained, tongue in cheek. “Top priority.”

Confused, he glanced down at the missive and the tidy, elegant penmanship that belonged to Ember, his brow furrowing as he read.

Field report, somewhere in the Hinterlands

Cullen -

I have to ask - why are there so many rams? I thought Ferelden was known for its dogs, not its sheep. We’ve killed some and taken the meat back to the villages. Varric insists we should include them in our count, but I refuse. They’re too easy for him and I feel ridiculous chasing them over rocks.

Let Leliana know that we’re still searching for her Warden. There’s hints of him to the West, so we’ll head that way soon.

I'm keeping Iron Bull with us, but the rest of the Chargers should be on their way to Haven (if they're not there already). Krem will ensure they get set up and you can speak with him if you have any questions - which I'm sure you will.

Two rifts have been closed, locations included.

Was everything here so brown before the Blight? It’s impressive, if so.

Update the board for me, will you?
Varric - 6
Ember - 7

Covered in some type of spiky burr,
Ember

Cullen stared at the parchment, unsure whether to laugh or burn the report in frustration. As he moved to set it down, he noticed a second sheet attached - there were no words but instead quite impressive drawings of the creatures found in the Hinterlands, primarily rams. Carefully he marked the rifts on the map that the Herald had closed, wondering why the woman was writing to him directly and in such an unprofessional and personal matter.

He tried to ignore the part of him that was pleased about it.

“Is there an update on their count?” Josephine asked, peering at the note.

“Varric set up a board in the tavern,” Leliana explained when Cullen only stared at the Ambassador. “The townspeople and soldiers are starting to place bets.”

He sighed and pushed the missive towards the women, letting them handle it. And then he stared at the map, unsure if it was better to ignore Ember or respond.

Herald,

The Hinterlands wouldn’t be much of a farming area if there were only dogs. I’m sure the villagers are thankful for what you’ve been able to provide. The rifts have been marked and Josephine assures me that your ‘count’ has been updated.

Yes, it was brown before the Blight.

Sincerely,
Commander Cullen

“Hey, that’s some good armor.”

Cassandra turned her head to look at Iron Bull as she cleaned the breastplate in her lap. “Are you referring to me?”

The large Qunari grunted in confirmation. “Some high-rank women wear ornamental crap with tits hammered into it. One good shot, and all that cleavage gets knocked right into the sternum. Real messy.” He lifted his cup in a salute. “Good on you for going practical.”

“I aim to please,” she said dryly, returning to her task.

“Leaves something to the imagination too.” Letting out a breath, he leaned back, his one eye roaming over to their newest companion. “Hey Blackwall. What’s the most limbs you’ve ever cut off something in one swing?”

The Warden’s dark eyes narrowed before he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. “For the Wardens, battle is a sacred duty, a vigil kept to guard the world against destruction. It’s not a game.”

“Right.” Iron Bull tapped his fingers on his leg, watching the man. “Same here.”

Silence stretched between them before Blackwall finally shrugged. “Do heads count?”

A grin spread across the Qunari’s face. “Heads definitely count.”

“Then…three.” The man’s beard twitched as Iron Bull hollered in delight.

“Nice! Down on the collarbone and through, right? That’s how I get the good ones.”

Ember shook her head as the two large warriors began talking technique, folding the missive from Cullen and placing it within her pack. She stretched out her legs, leaning against a log by the fire, and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, moving her drawing pencil across it.

Varric studied her curiously and then turned towards Cassandra as he inspected his crossbow for any damage. “You know Seeker, for someone with your tact and charisma you assembled a…pretty good little Inquisition. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you didn’t drag them all here by force.”

Setting aside her breastplate, she eyed the dwarf. “How kind of you.”

“I mean, you never know,” he continued, keeping his gaze on Bianca, “you could have kidnapped Ruffles and she’d be too polite to say anything.”

Cassandra scowled. “Leliana recruited Josephine. They’re…friends.”

“So there’s a rational explanation after all.” He sighed, pulling out a set of small tools to adjust the grip of his weapon. “Just when I thought you had layers. But, it makes sense that Leliana did the recruiting when the Inquisition started. Not everyone can be intimidated into signing up after all.”

“I recruited Commander Cullen,” she pointed out, picking up another piece of her armor to examine.

Varric glanced over at Ember. “Lucky him,” he muttered.

“He has made no complaints about my manners,” Cassandra said loftily.

He snorted and shook his head. “His last boss was a raving lunatic who turned into a statue. That’s not a high bar.”

Ember frowned, her pencil pausing on the page. It was difficult to imagine Cullen being led astray by Meredith - he seemed so steady and solid to her. She didn’t see the point in asking Varric about it, as he’d admitted to not knowing Cullen very well while in Kirkwall, and he was also a self-proclaimed liar.

Would he ever tell her about it himself? And why did she want him to?

Field report, still somewhere in the Hinterlands

Cullen -

There are bears now. Bears! They’re a group effort so I’m not counting them either.

Warden Blackwall has been found and recruited - we’re sending him back to Haven with Cassandra in the morning. I hope Leliana is able to get the information she needs from him, but he seems like a good sword to have around either way.

Tomorrow we’re searching for an ancient elven artefact for Solas. He says they can help strengthen the Veil to help stop more rifts from forming - I’m not sure what we’d do without him and his knowledge.

Two more rifts closed, locations provided.

Iron Bull has decided he’d like to join our game. Varric offered to restart our count and nearly got tossed into the river. Iron Bull says he doesn’t mind because he believes he’ll surpass us before long. If you could see the way he swings his axe around, you might agree (but I’ll be upset if you bet on anyone other than me).

Sera was interested in joining as well but she’s terrible at focusing enough to keep count of what she hits.

Cassandra, Vivienne, and Solas have decided we’re childish (though I think Solas secretly wants to join but doesn’t want to get on Cassandra’s bad side).

Today’s count
Varric - 8
Ember - 7
Bull - 5

Being bitten by a ridiculous amount of bugs,
Ember

“The Iron Bull has decided to join the fray,” Cullen sighed, passing the numbers over to the runner designated to update the board. “See that the men don’t drink themselves into too much of a stupor over this.” He rubbed the back of his neck as the runner left, wondering why the Herald continued to give him such information. She wrote to him as if he was a friend, not the Commander of the Inquisition. It was blurring a line that he was certain needed to remain solid. Still, he placed the missive and the accompanying drawings of bears into his coat.

“Ah, there’s Cassandra with Warden Blackwall.” Leliana lifted a hand to signal the two over to where she’d set up a makeshift office of tents, tables, and birds outside the Chantry.

He took in the sight of the Warden as the two warriors approached from the front gates. The man was large and fit, with shaggy black hair and a beard styled like an Orlesian. “Not like any Warden I’ve ever seen,” he muttered.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her head tilting slightly. “Not every Warden can be as beautiful as Ella.”

His shoulders stiffened. When he’d first met Leliana, he’d thought she’d seemed familiar. It hadn’t been until learning that she had been a companion to the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight that he remembered - they’d met before, at Kinloch Hold, when he’d been at his lowest. And while he remembered her, he hadn’t been sure she remembered him. But if she knew he’d once met Ella…“No,” he said tightly, keeping his gaze forward, “I suppose not.”

Herald,

I suggest avoiding the bears if you can. Blackwall has arrived and Leliana thanks you for finding him. She’ll debrief you when you return to Haven. The rifts have been marked and Iron Bull has been added to your ‘count’. It is probably in all our best interests that Sera does not join this ridiculous game - I’ll sleep better for it.

Elfroot paste can help keep the bugs away.

Sincerely,
Commander Cullen

Sera plucked at the string of her bow, eyeing Solas mischievously. “You can make magic anywhere, Solas? Ever piss it by accident?”

“No,” the tall elf answered automatically, but then he paused, looking up from the book he was reading and considering. “Wait…no.”

“What?” Sera gaped at him and threw her arms in the air. “How could you not remember something like that?”

“We were all young once,” he said simply, going back to his reading.

Varric grinned and shook his head. “You know what I like about you, Chuckles? Your boundless optimism.”

Solas continued to look at his book but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “It’s comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you’ll invent for me, Varric.”

“No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?” The dwarf glanced over as Ember approached the camp.

He turned a page idly. “When you put it like that, I must concede your point.”

Ember tucked Cullen’s missive into her coat, glancing around the area where they’d set up their tents. “Elfroot paste?” she mumbled in disbelief, swatting away a gnat. “Fereldans and their elfroot, I swear.”

“Hawke was always excited when she found some outside Kirkwall.” Varric picked one of the plants, turning it over in his hand. “She never made it into a paste, though.”

“No?” She took the plant when he held it out to her, looking at the green leaves curiously. The dwarf talked about Hawke often, but only when Cassandra wasn’t nearby. “What did she do with it, then?”

He gave her a crooked smile and patted her on the back. “I’ll show you.”

Field report, just how big are the Hinterlands

Cullen -

Found a cave full of some odd burrowing pink pig creature. Varric said they’re called ‘nugs’ and dwarves in Orzammar eat them. Do you think they taste good? I’ve been trying to draw them but they move quicker than you’d expect.

Two agents recruited and sent your way.

Three rifts closed, locations included.

Solas’s artefact didn’t explode which was slightly disappointing. He’s heading back with the recruits to study what we found.

The rest of us will be going to Redcliffe to meet with Grand Enchanter Fiona before we return to Haven.

The elfroot worked surprisingly well, thank you. I may finally understand why Fereldans enjoy the plant so much.

Last count before I do it myself! I suggest betting on me for the win.
Varric - 6
Ember - 8
Bull - 9

Blissfully bug free,
Ember

“The Herald and the others should be returning soon,” Cullen said as he flipped through reports.

“Who’s winning?” asked Josephine casually as she wrote a missive.

“Lady Ambassador.” Cullen shook his head in astonishment. “Are you betting on this game as well now?”

Josephine shrugged. “There’s very little in the way of entertainment here, Commander. And you can’t deny that it’s helping with morale.”

While he couldn’t disagree, keeping a count of enemies killed hardly seemed like something the Herald of the Andraste should do.

Herald,

You’ll be heading back soon but perhaps this will get to you before you leave. A word of warning - Leliana is obsessed with nugs for some unknowable reason and does not take kindly to the idea of them being a meal. I would suggest not asking about their taste in front of her. She might appreciate the drawings, however.

The agents have been assigned, the rifts marked. Solas has locked himself away in his quarters with his books as expected.

I am glad to hear the elfroot helped.

Not a betting man,
Commander Cullen

Chapter Text

Ember hissed, shaking out her hand as energy faded from her palm after closing the unexpected rift. The light within the Chantry dimmed and she surveyed the destruction caused by their fight with the demons. It would probably be a while before the building was usable again.

"Fascinating." The dark-haired man with a curled mustache that had been waiting for them inside moved closer to her, staring at her hand. "How does that work, exactly?" When she remained silent, he smiled and shook his head. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."

"It's a bit more than that." Sort of. "Who are you?"

"Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see." He bent at the waist into a flourishing bow. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

Iron Bull stepped up behind Ember, his voice low. "Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst."

"Suspicious friends you have here," Dorian commented, eyeing the large Qunari.

Vivienne sniffed, hand curling around her staff. "Let one Tevinter in, suddenly they're scurrying out of all the walls like roaches."

The Tevinter in question clucked his tongue. "Now now, I'm ever so much more handsome than a cockroach." He turned back to Ember, ignoring the others. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable - as I'm sure you can imagine."

She glanced around the Chantry, massaging her marked hand. "I was expecting Felix to be here."

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father."

She narrowed her eyes at him, studying his clothes. They were meant for traveling, but far finer and fancier than most people wore. "Are you a magister?"

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All right. Let's say this once. I'm a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magisterium. I know southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians."

Her lips curved at the annoyance in his voice. "You're the one that sent the note, then?" She held up the bit of paper Felix had slipped to her when he'd pretended to collapse in the tavern.

"I am. Someone had to warn you, after all." As they all continued to watch him with suspicion, he threw his hands in the air. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming all the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

She wasn't a mage but even she knew that was far-fetched. But she'd play along to determine what information he was trying to provide her. It was obvious that Alexius was up to something. "He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?"

"You catch on quick," he said with a pleased wink.

"That is fascinating, if true." Solas glanced at Ember, his expression hard to read. "And almost certainly dangerous."

Dorian gestured at the remnants of demons that surrounded them. "The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

Ember wiped blood from her face and shook her head. "I'd like more proof than 'magical time control! Go with it!' if you don't mind."

"I know what I'm talking about," the mage insisted. "I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them."

She turned to watch Felix enter the Chantry, his eyes shadowed, his skin sallow.

"Took you long enough," Dorian said with relief. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." The younger man took a breath. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing: what he's done for them, he's done it to get to you."

Ember's brows rose. "All this for me?" She smirked at Dorian. "And here I didn't get Alexius anything."

He grinned in return. "Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those."

Varric chuckled but Solas cleared his throat and Ember let her smile fall. "Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?"

Felix shook his head, looking perplexed. "They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"You can close the rifts," Dorian mused. "Maybe there's a connection? Or they see you as a threat? Either way, you know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He straightened his robes. "I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch." He kept his gaze on Ember until she nodded and then began to turn away. "And Felix?" he said over his shoulder. "Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian," Felix said quietly as the mage disappeared into the back of the Chantry. Then he sighed, giving Ember a small smile. "I should return before my father wonders where I am. Please, stay safe."

"Thank you, Felix." Ember waited for the second Tevinter to leave before turning to her companions. "So. I'm not sure how to feel about this."

"Let's go outside, Herald," Varric suggested, kicking aside broken wood and demon ashes. "Get some fresh air while we process."

They stepped out of the Chantry quietly, doing their best to move unseen back towards the tavern where they could meld in with the crowds - as well as they could, at least.

"Does Tevinter really need cults?" Varric muttered as they approached the main road. "Aren't they weird enough?"

Iron Bull grunted. "Vints are all crazy. If it's not cults, it's demons, or musical theater, or something."

"Since they've outmaneuvered us so far, it might be wise to take the Venatori seriously," suggested Vivienne sternly.

Ember shook her head, unease making her jittery. She'd been getting plenty of attention as the Herald, but such a level of focus on her was slightly terrifying. "We need to get back to Haven. This is far worse than we thought it was going to be." She pulled her hood up over her face. "Let's find Harding."
–----------------------------

"Back already?" Blackwall held out a hand, helping Ember dismount her horse.

She pushed back her hood and handed off her pack to a runner that would take it to her room. "Things…escalated quicker than we anticipated." She gave her companions a wave to signal them ahead as she remained with the Warden, needing a moment to breathe. "Have you met with Leliana?"

He nodded, stepping out of the small stable area where they kept the mounts with her beside him. "I don't know how much help I was to your Spymaster, but I told her what I knew." His gaze lifted to the sky and he blew out a breath. "Being here is…different. Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it's far away. And to actually walk out of it, to be that close…"

"It's right there." She tilted her head towards the Breach with a small smile. "We could take a trip, if you're that curious."

He shook his head, eyeing the tear in the sky with trepidation. "I'm going to have to decline…at least until I learn more about it."

"Smart decision. It's fairly dangerous." She crossed her arms over her chest, remembering the wild magic of it when she'd been at the temple with the others. "If I hadn't been saved by Inquisition soldiers, I don't know what would have happened."

"Inquisition soldiers? That's not what I heard." He turned towards her, shifting to block the wind when she shivered. "The Breach, the Divine's death, the Wardens…it doesn't make sense. There's so much we don't know."

She hummed in agreement. "Your experience with the Wardens will certainly be useful." She knew very little about the Grey Wardens beyond what she'd learned in history, and what she'd been able to gather about Ella and her journey.

“Mostly the treaties, I expect. Old parchments you’re welcome to.” His stormy gray eyes watched her, taking her measure. “Just one question then. How do you fit in with all this?”

"It's been a whirlwind," she said with a wry smile. "It's hard to say where I fit."

“I guess we’ll have to figure that out.” She intrigued him - he wouldn’t have left behind what he’d been doing to join her cause if she didn’t. All the stories and tales he’d heard painted her as someone to be worshipped and revered, but she hardly seemed the type to want such a thing. “For me, I’ll be satisfied so long as we find the bastard that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers.”

That surprised her - she hadn’t expected him to be a faithful man. They’d spent a bit of time together in the Hinterlands after she’d found and recruited him, but Cassandra had whisked him away to Haven before they’d had much chance to speak. “I want to hear more about you.”

He chuckled, mirroring her stance and crossing his arms. “Compared to yours, my life will seem dull indeed.”

She studied him as she considered. He was a large man, burly and broad, his dark hair pushed back from his face more to keep it out of the way than in any sort of style. His beard was shaped into two points, which she knew was an Orlesian fashion, but he didn’t carry himself the way people from Orlais did. “Your name, ‘Blackwall’, doesn’t sound Orlesian. Marcher, then? Fereldan?”

“I was from the Free Marches, originally,” he admitted. “Markham. That was a long time ago. Another life.”

Marhkham wasn’t far from where she’d grown up - she’d stopped there on her way to Starkhaven after leaving the Trevelyan estate. “A fellow Marcher, then. It’s hard to shake the place off you, no matter how many lives it’s been.”

“Right. Ostwick, isn’t it?” It had been a long time, but he could just hear the hint of her accent beneath the educated speech of a noblewoman. Another fact that confounded him - he had a great distaste for the aristocracy, but she was unlike anyone of high birth that he’d ever met.

“Originally.” But she didn’t understand what a Marcher would be doing as a Warden hailing from Orlais. “I hear that many Wardens were once criminals.”

He bit back a sigh at the common - and not entirely incorrect - assumption. “Not just Wardens, it seems,” he responded sternly, looking down at her. “Your own past isn’t spotless.” He’d heard the rumors that she came from a mercenary background and with her fighting skills, he didn’t doubt it. “I’m sure you’d rather leave it behind. As would I.”

"We could all use an air of mystery, couldn't we?" She lifted a shoulder, unconcerned. If he didn't want to dredge up his past, she understood. "If you'll excuse me, Blackwall. I should probably give my report before things get worse. Somehow."

He inclined his head, watching her. "My lady."

She looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, not expecting to be called such by him, but only smiled before making her way towards Haven.
–----------------------------

"You know, I don't think freezing to death will keep you from having to go into that War Room."

Ember stayed where she was, flat on her back in the snow, her arm tossed over her eyes to cover them. "Maybe they can just prop me up in the corner like an icy statue." She heard Varric's boots stop near her, but she didn't move her arm to look at him. "Are they asking for me?"

"Probably." He sat down on an outcropping of stone beside her. "Cassandra will send out a search team if necessary."

She snorted in amusement because they both knew it was true. "How'd you find me?"

"You think you're the only one that needs to get away from this mess sometimes?" He leaned back, letting out a deep sigh. "You should consider a hiding place that isn't out in the open."

As much as she wished she could say that's what she'd been doing, she didn't want him to think she was avoiding talking to the others on purpose. "I wasn't trying to hide."

"So you're laid out in the snow because…?"

"I fell." She shifted, wincing at the jolt in her hip from where she'd landed. "Fairly certain this mountain is intent on killing me one way or another. But it would be hilarious if a patch of ice took out the Herald of Andraste, wouldn't it?"

He chuckled, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. "It's not how I'd write it."

"No, you'd go with something far grander…like fighting the Arishok without somehow starting a war with the Qunari."

Varric blew out a weary breath, used to the critique ever since Tales of the Champion had been released. "Look, Hawke did kill him. Apparently, the Arishok didn't get permission before he attacked Kirkwall, and the Qun didn't want another Exalted March. When they finally sent a ship to haul the wrecked dreadnought away, they just said, 'We will never speak of this again'. As far as I can tell, that's the Qun's version of an apology."

She made a noncommittal noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "Varric, can I ask you something?"

He breathed into his hands and then rubbed them together for warmth. "Sure, though I don't know if you'll like my answers."

"How would Hawke handle this?" She waved her other hand in the air above her to encompass everything around them. "Having a cult obsessed with her enough to do insane things to try to trap her?"

"Funny you should ask," he murmured, scratching his cheek. "Hawke's method is usually to run into things, blades drawn, and figure it out as she goes. It works for her - most of the time." And it had also gotten them trapped in the Deep Roads wading through cultists and darkspawn for days.

From everything she knew and had read, that sounded like Hawke. She wasn't sure why she'd been hoping for a more specific type of instruction that would actually help her. "If I suggest that, Cullen might lock me back up in the dungeon."

He shrugged, glancing towards the village. "The first time I met Curly, he'd gone up into the mountains outside Kirkwall to confront a templar recruit that turned into an abomination and summoned a bunch of other demons. By himself. He might be more open to terrible ideas than you think."

She lifted her arm to look at him, wondering if he was lying. But he was hard to read and she preferred to believe that the Commander had a bit of recklessness about him. "If they don't make a decision soon, it might be the only option we have. But…maybe once the Breach is sealed, the cult won't care about me as much."

"Maybe. Who knows how a cultist mind works?" He stood from the rock, needing to move before the cold could settle in his bones. "Let me help you up before you freeze to death. The Seeker might finally kill me if I let that happen."

She took his offered hand, surprised at the strength of him and how easily he pulled her to her feet. She rubbed her tender hip with a wince and then brushed the snow off herself, shivering. "Thanks. Drinks later?"

"Yeah, I expect we'll need them. Good luck." He watched her go, hoping that her run-in with cultists would go easier than Hawke's had. For all their sakes.
–----------------------------

Ember studied the map of Ferelden while everyone else in the War Room bickered around her, feeling like she was trying to solve a puzzle that was missing too many pieces.

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle!” Cullen exclaimed. “Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!”

Cassandra groaned in annoyance. “Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name.” Josephine frowned as she looked towards Ember. “It’s an obvious trap.”

“Isn’t that kind of him?” Ember smirked, wondering if Tevinter mages were always so transparent. “What does Alexius say about me?”

From where she leaned against the wall, Leliana gave her a thin smile. “He’s so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you.”

“Well,” she considered, again staring at the map, “I’d hate to disappoint by not giving him the opportunity.”

Josephine sighed. “Not this again.”

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” Cullen placed his hands on the table, drawing Ember’s gaze to his, his voice lowering. “If you go in there, you’ll die.” The thought alone terrified him in a way he wasn’t ready to examine. “And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

Ember pushed back her disappointment that his concern wasn’t for her, but for the mark on her hand. She could hardly hold it against him - without her, the rifts would remain open and demons would continue to pour forth. Still…it stung more than she expected.

Leliana pushed off from the wall. “And if we don’t even try to meet with Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!”

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught,” Josephine warned. “An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

Cassandra slapped a hand down on the table. “The Magister–”

“Has outplayed us.” Cullen said with finality.

A tense silence hung in the room, each of them trying to figure out how to make the impossible work in their favor.

“The magister’s son, Felix, told me Alexius is in a cult that’s obsessed with me.” Ember shook off her brooding, focusing instead on the problem before them. “I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business.”

Leliana nodded in agreement. “They will remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act.”

“We cannot accept defeat now.” Cassandra glared at the map as if it held the answer somehow. “There must be a solution.”

Ember hesitated for a moment and then tapped the lake that surrounded Redcliffe. “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something?”

Cullen shook his head in frustration. “There’s nothing I know of that would work.”

“Wait.” Brow furrowed as if trying to recall a distant memory, Leliana stepped closer and pointed at the part of the map where the Redcliffe windmill would be. “There’s a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

Ember looked at the Spymaster sharply, wondering if it was too good to be true. “How do you know?”

“We had to use it during the Blight, when Redcliffe was under siege by undead. Teagan himself showed us.” She smiled in nostalgic amusement. “Shale and Sten were too large to fit, and Alistair complained the whole way about how cramped it was.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed as he considered it. “Too risky,” he decided. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

Leliana straightened, her smile going sly and mischievous. “That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?”

“Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters.” He looked at Ember, the uncertainty plain on his face. “It’s risky, but it could work.”

Before anyone could argue the point, the door slammed open and a handsome dark-haired man sauntered in, followed closely by an out-of-breath Inquisition soldier.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help,” he said smoothly, stopping next to Ember with a charming smile.

She blinked at him in confusion. When she’d met the mage at Redcliffe’s Chantry, she hadn’t expected him to make the journey to Haven so quickly. “Dorian? What are you doing here?”

The soldier grasped the doorframe and leaned in. “This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.”

Dorian shifted to address the rest of the room. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

Cullen eyed the Tevinter with suspicion before turning to Ember. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” Everything in him wanted to beg her to not do it - did she not understand how easily things could go wrong? “We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

Ember felt everyone watching her and she understood - it was her decision. She had helped with making smaller decisions before when they’d asked but this….this was something more than that. Not only was she making the choice about which faction of people they would go to for help, but she was putting herself at the forefront of the mission. They were trusting her, including her, putting responsibility on her in a way they hadn’t before. Something had changed and she wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened. But there wasn’t time to examine what that meant or how she felt about it. They had to move quickly.

She drew in a breath and nodded to Cullen. “I’ll be the bait. Let’s go after Alexius.”

Chapter Text

“My friend! It is good to see you again.” Alexius gave Ember a tight smile as she approached the dais where he stood. He eyed the two men with her, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “And your associates, of course. I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

Fiona stepped up from the sidelines. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?”

Alexius barely spared the woman a look. “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

Ember knew she needed to keep the Magister’s attention on her, to give Dorian and the others the distraction they needed. She was bait, and the best bait was…frustrating. She shifted to stand in front of Fiona, smirking. “Of course she trusts you, Alexius. I’m sure lots of people put their lives in your hands. You have one of those faces.”

“Yes,” his smile disappeared, “the magisterium tells me so often. Shall we begin our talks?” He sat down in the arl's chair, fingers steepled before him, looking down his nose at her. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

She made out the sound of a gurgle in the corner of the room and saw Iron Bull shift his feet. “Nothing at all.” She kept her eyes on the man before her, giving him a wide smile and moving closer. “I’m just going to take the mages and leave.”

Alexius stared at her as if he had misheard and then frowned. “And how do you imagine you’ll accomplish such a feat?”

"She knows everything, Father," Felix said wearily from where he stood next to the chair.

“Felix, what have you done?” The magister half-stood.

“Your son is concerned you’re involved in something terrible,” Ember explained with a shrug.

“So speaks the thief,” he hissed, pushing out of the chair and nearly knocking it over. “Do you think you can turn my son against me?” He stalked towards her, dark eyes blazing. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark - a gift you don’t even understand - and think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.”

She tilted her head, standing her ground. “If I’m a mistake, what exactly was the Breach supposed to accomplish?"

“It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world!”

Felix moved forward, trying to make a grab for his fathers arm. “Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the villainous cliche everyone expects us to be.” Dorian stepped out from behind a pillar, looking up at the man in disappointment.

Alexius scowled, his attention shifting. “Dorian. I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

Ember rolled her eyes, speaking loudly so she was still the main focus. They couldn't risk Alexius looking around and noticing anything amiss. “Blah, blah. ‘My cult is better than yours’. I’ve heard it a thousand times.”

Dorian arched a brow, but he understood the assignment. “Well, you know, it’s a chance for the Imperium to really one-up that whole ‘starting the Blight’ thing.”

She chuckled, using the moment to glance behind her shoulder in time to see one of the fallen Venatori guards get dragged out of sight.

“He will make the world bow to mages once more," Alexus yelled, throwing his arms into the air. “We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen seas!”

Fiona shook her head, glaring up at him. “You can’t involve my people in this!”

Dorian stepped closer, his tone imploring. “Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?”

“Stop it Father,” Felix pleaded. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

Alexius hesitated and then shook his head, looking at his son. “No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!”

“Save me?” Felix breathed in surprise.

“There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

Felix again reached for his father. “I’m going to die. You need to accept that.”

Alexius pulled away, pointing down at Ember and Dorian. “Seize them, Venatori. The Elder One demands this woman’s life.”

Instead of Venatori emerging, Inquisition agents appeared in their place, converging on the magister.

“Your men are dead, Alexius,” Ember said softly, her hand on the hilt of her dagger. She saw the desperation in his eyes and prepared herself - men did terrible things for the ones they loved.

Alexius turned on her, pulling something out from within his robe. “You…are a mistake! You never should have existed!” He held out an amulet and the eerie green glow of a rift began to form in the air.

“No!” Dorian shouted, spinning his staff and pushing out his own blast of magic.

Everything felt…wobbly. And then Ember’s vision went black.
–----------------------------

“Displacement?” Dorian mused in surprise, looking around the flooded cellar they were in. “Interesting! It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

Ember nudged aside a floating Venatori body with her knee. “The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall.”

“Let’s see. If we’re still in the castle, it isn’t…Oh!” Dorian turned to her in excitement. “Of course! It’s not simply wherewhen! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

She rifled through another Venatori’s pockets, looking for a key to the cellar door. “That…doesn’t sound good.”

“It sounds terrible,” the mage agreed heartily, “depending on when we are and what happened while we were away. Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back…if we can.”

She didn’t like the sound of that if, but her searching produced the key they needed and she moved through the thigh-high water to the door.

“Are your lockpicks just for show?” He asked her as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“No, but I didn’t feel like diving for them if they slipped out of my hand.” She peered out into the hallway, frowning at the empty darkness that greeted her - except for the red glow along the walls. “What was Alexius trying to do?”

Dorian stepped up beside her, exiting the room. “I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled the Elder One’s plan.” He murmured something and flicked his hand, a small ball of light appearing just ahead of them. He gestured for her to lead the way. “I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?”

Not at all, but she had no choice but to trust him, and was happy as long as one of them understood what was happening. “It just seems so insane.” As they moved through the lower bit of the castle, she pulled one of her daggers out, holding it loosely in her hand, listening for Venatori.

Dorian shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world. We didn’t ‘travel’ through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it in the privy.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “But don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

She glanced at him and smiled. His concern was appreciated, though she expected she’d be protecting him more often than not. “This ‘Elder One’ that Alexius mentioned in the hall…Do you know who he was talking about?” She began climbing the stairs up to the next level of the castle.

“Leader of the Venatori, I suspect.” He shrugged, annoyance plain on his face. “Some magister aspiring to godhood. It’s the same old tune. ‘Let’s play with magic we don’t understand! It will make us incredibly powerful!’ Evidently, it doesn’t matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process.”

Making a noise of agreement, she moved into another hallway. “You have a plan to get us back, I hope.”

“I have some thoughts on that,” he confirmed. “They’re lovely thoughts, like little jewels.”

Before she could ask for clarification and details, something caught her eye in one of the cells they passed. She paused, staring in horror at the growth of red crystal in the corner of the small space. “Fiona?”

The small elven mage opened her eyes, revealing a red glow. “You’re…alive? How? I saw you…disappear…into the rift.”

“I don’t understand.” Ember placed her hand on the bars. “What’s happened to you?”

“Red lyrium…it’s a disease.” Fiona took a raspy breath, grimacing at the crystal that grew from her body. “The longer you’re near it…eventually…you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

Dorian cursed under his breath. “Can you tell us the date? It’s very important.”

“Harvestmere…9:42 Dragon.”

“Nine forty-two?” He pushed a hand back through his hair. “Then we’ve missed an entire year.”

Ember gazed around the castle walls at the other red lyrium growths, frowning. “I’ve missed out on a lot during that year,” she said mostly to herself. If this was what had happened to Fiona…what about everyone else?

“You must…beware. Alexius…serves the Elder One.” Fiona took another breath, though it seemed to pain her. “More powerful…than the Maker…No one…challenges him and lives.”

“I’ve never fought a god before.” Ember looked at Dorian. “This should be memorable.”

“Our only hope is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here,” he told her. “If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact same spot we left. Maybe.”

“Good,” Fiona sighed.

Dorian glanced at her with a shake of his head. “I said maybe. It might also turn us into paste.”

“A pleasant thought,” Ember muttered.

“You must try.” Fiona gestured weakly upwards. “Your spymaster, Leliana…She is here. Find her. Quickly…before the Elder One…learns you’re here.”

“Leliana is here?” At the mage’s nod, Ember stepped back from the cell. “I’m sorry, Fiona. We’ll try to fix this.”

They walked in solemn silence, listening for Venatori and avoiding the lyrium growths as much as they could. “If red lyrium is an infection,” Dorian whispered, skirting around a large crystal, “Maker, why is it coming out of the walls?”

“Are you sure you want to find out?” She stopped, her brow furrowing. “Do you hear singing?”

“Singing?” He asked incredulously. “Surely not.” He turned towards where she was looking and then sighed. “Oh, I suppose it is.”

“Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer,” sang a gruff, familiar voice from the room before them. “Take one down, pass it around…”

Ember opened the door to see another hallway of cells. She wondered if half of Redcliffe castle was just a dungeon. “Bull?” she called out as she entered.

The singing stopped and the large Qunari pressed his face to the bars, staring at her with his one eye. “You’re not dead?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re supposed to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

“Alexius didn’t kill us,” Dorian explained. “His spell sent us through time. This is our future.”

“Well it’s my present.” Iron Bull watched Ember suspiciously as she crouched in front of the cell door and pulled out her lockpicking tools. “And in my past, I definitely saw you both die.”

Ember concentrated on the lock instead of how Iron Bull’s voice had a slight echo to it and the eerie red glow that emanated from him. “Well, I’m no more dead than you.”

He grunted grumpily. “Now ‘dead’ and ‘not dead’ are up for debate. That’s wonderful.”

Dorian looked back and forth between the two of them, astounded. “This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic. Just come with us. We’re going to fight Alexius.”

“Alexius isn’t the one you need to worry about. It’s his ‘Elder One’.” When Ember stood and stepped back, he pushed open the cell door. “He killed the Empress of Orlais and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the South. The army was all demons.” He narrowed his eye at her. “You ever fought a demon army? I don’t recommend it.”

She grimaced as she tucked her tools back into her belt. “Well…shit.”

“I know, right?” Rolling his shoulder, he gestured out the door. “Varric is across there. I could hear him sometimes.”

The thought of the dwarf being stuck in a small space with red lyrium made her chest tighten. While Iron Bull gathered his gear, she hurried to the next block of cells. “Varric,” she sighed in relief when she found him, sitting and leaning against a wall, humming to himself. She immediately pulled her tools back out and got to work.

Varric opened his eyes and stared at her. “Andraste’s sacred knickers,” he cursed, sitting up straighter. “You’re alive? Where were you? How did you escape?”

“We didn’t escape,” Dorian said as he and Iron Bull entered the room. “Alexius sent us into the future.”

Shaking his head, Varric gave Ember an astounded half-smile. “Everything that happens to you is weird.”

She snorted, keeping her eyes on the lock. “You might be right about that.”

“I’m always right. And when I’m not, I lie about it.” With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, supporting himself with his hand on the wall as he oriented himself.

Ember tugged open the cell door as soon as it was unlocked, making herself study him. Like Iron Bull, he’d obviously been affected by the red lyrium that grew in clusters in his prison. “You don’t look so good, Varric. What happened?”

“Bite your tongue. I look damn good for a dead man.” He let go of the wall, stepping out of the cell.

“You’re no more dead than we are,” Dorian commented.

Varric glanced at the crystals with a frown. “The non-dying version of this red lyrium stuff? Way worse. Just saying.” His gaze turned back to Ember. “So what are you doing here? Or did you come back just to trade quips with me?”

“Always the quips,” she teased, ignoring the ache in her heart. Two people that were becoming good friends, tainted by the red lyrium and near death. All because she was arrogant enough to be bait, thinking she could save the mages and Redcliffe in one fell swoop? She was a fool and the others never should have given her the responsibility to decide…

Dorian turned on his heel, hurrying out of the room. “We get to Alexius, and I just might be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘simple’.” Varric ran a hand lovingly over Bianca as he pulled her out of a nearby chest. “You want to take on Alexius? I’m in.”

“We need to find Leliana first.” Ember gestured upwards to where she thought the spymaster might be.

“Red’s here too?” Iron Bull rested his axe on his shoulder. “Then let’s go get her and finish this. Magister's in his throne room. Vints say he locked himself in.”
–----------------------------

"How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple? Answer me!"

Ember paused in the hallway, gesturing for the others to stop as she listened. Someone had said her name but…

"Never!"

"Leliana," she breathed as the sound of a sharp slap echoed from the room at the end of the hall.

"There is no use to this defiance, little bird," the Venatori's voice hissed. "There's no one left for you to protect."

As quietly as possible, dagger in hand, she moved towards the door with the others behind her.

"You're wasting your breath," the Spymaster growled.

Another slap, another shout of pain. "Talk! The Elder One demands answers!"

Leliana laughed in anger and mockery. "He'll get used to disappointment."

Ember gripped the door handle, pushing it open to see Leliana - hooded and bloodied - hanging from a hook with her wrists bound over it. A Venatori had his back to them, selecting a knife from the table.

"You will break!" He insisted, holding the knife to Leliana's throat.

"I will die first." She looked up as Ember stepped into the room, her eyes going wide in shock. "Or you will."

The Venatori turned to see what she was looking at and the Spymaster used the distraction, lifting herself up enough to wrap her legs around the man's head. She pressed his head between her thighs and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. He fell to the ground without a sound.

"You're alive!" Leliana stared at Ember as she rushed forward to sift through the Venatori's pockets for a key.

Once she found it, she reached up to unlock the chains around Leliana's wrists. "That was impressive." She helped the woman lower down to the ground, letting her go when confident she could stand on her own. Beneath the hood, Leliana's face was haggard and worn, but her eyes were sharp.

"Anger is stronger than any pain." She looked at Ember as she rubbed her wrists, and then at the others. "Do you have weapons? Good." She started towards a chest on the far wall, kicking it open and pulling out a bow and quiver of arrows.

Dorian looked at Ember and then to Leliana. "You…aren't curious how we got here?"

"No." She slung the bow over her shoulder.

"Alexius sent us into the future," Dorian decided to explain anyway. "This. His victory, his Elder One - it was never meant to be."

Ember's brow furrowed at the quick and precise movements of the Spymaster. "If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you'll never have to go through this."

"And mages always wonder why people fear them…No one should have this power." She nodded to Varric and Iron Bull, starting towards the door.

"It's dangerous and unpredictable," Dorian agreed. "Before the Breach, nothing we did-"

"Enough!" Leliana turned in the doorway, scowling at him. "This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real."

The castle alone was enough to turn Ember's stomach. The whole world…what had happened to the others? Cassandra, Sera, Vivienne, Blackwall, Solas? Had Josephine been able to rally the resources to fight back? Was Cullen out there somewhere, kept alive like Leliana? Or had he…

"What happened while we were away?" Dorian asked as they continued to make their way towards the throne room.

"Stop talking," Leliana responded simply, leading them onward.

Dorian's voice lowered. "I'm just asking for information."

"No. You're talking to fill silence." She stopped at a door, hand pressed against it. "Nothing happened that you want to hear." She pushed it open to reveal the courtyard, keeping her head down as she stepped outside.

Iron Bull and Varric did the same but Ember and Dorian couldn't help but look upward.

"The Breach!" Ember gasped, staring at the sky. "It's…"

"Everywhere," Dorian finished, equally shocked. The entire sky was torn open, churning and frothing as it rained flame and rifts below.

Ember choked on a cry of pain, grasping her hand as it crackled with energy in response to the Breach. Multiple rifts littered the courtyard, demons moving amongst the dead plants and trees.

"Used to be, it was only dwarves who were afraid of the sky." Varric took Bianca off his back, his eyes on the demons. "Now, it's just good sense."
–----------------------------

Dorian knelt down beside the body of the Tevinter magister, his expression somber. “He wanted to die, didn’t he,” he said dully. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications…He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice.” He hung his head and sighed. “Oh, Alexius…”

Glancing at the others, Ember placed a hand on the mage's shoulder. “I know you cared for him.”

“Once he was a man to whom I compared all others. Sad, isn’t it?” Shaking it off, Dorian began to rifle through the dead man’s robes until he found what they were searching for. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief.” He stood, turning the amulet in his hand and studying it. “Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

“An hour?” Leliana scowled and shook her head. “That’s impossible! You must go now!”

As if summoned by her words, the shriek of demons sounded outside the castle and the roar of a dragon shook the stones around them.

Leliana placed a hand on her bow. “The Elder One.”

“I was wondering when he’d show.” Iron Bull grunted, hefting his axe.

Varric frowned, looking out into the hallway and then up at the Qunari. The two shared a silent moment of understanding and Iron Bull inclined his head. “We’ll hold the main door,” the dwarf said as he loaded Bianca. “Once they break through, it’s all you, Nightingale.”

Ember wanted to argue, wanted to scream. She couldn’t let her friends kill themselves for her. But she bit her tongue, knowing the future they were in couldn’t be allowed to happen. If her and Dorian could make it back, she could save them all. “We’ll make this count.” She nodded at Varric and Iron Bull.

The two exited the room, closing the heavy door behind them.

“The only way we live is if this day never comes,” Leliana said, nocking an arrow and pointing it at the closed door. “Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.”

Dorian hunched over the amulet, muttering under his breath and moving his hand across it.

Gripping her knives tightly, Ember did her best to ignore the sounds of fighting outside. She could hear Iron Bull yelling and the sharp noise Bianca made whenever Varric released a bolt. And then it stopped and there were only shrieks and the monotone casting of Venatori mages.

The door slammed open and the lifeless bodies of Iron Bull and Varric were tossed inside like paper dolls.

Leliana began letting loose her arrows, taking out demon after demon with quick precision. “Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame,” she recited to herself, barely blinking. “Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

“Almost there,” Dorian muttered from behind clenched teeth, brow furrowed in concentration.

Ember turned away from him, instinctively taking a step forward when she heard Leliana yell in pain, an arrow embedded into her shoulder.

“You move,” Dorian yelled, grabbing her before she could go anywhere, “and we all die!”

Helpless, she stayed where she was, watching as Leliana began using the bow itself to beat the enemies swarming her. A tearing sound filled the air and she felt Dorian take her hand. A demon wrapped its hands around the Spymaster and though everything inside her told her to stay, she let the mage drag her back into the rift that he’d managed to open.

Leliana and the demons disappeared and within moments, they were once again standing in Redcliffe’s pristine hall - no red lyrium in sight.

Dorian laughed in surprised delight as the two of them were transported back to the castle of the past. He clucked his tongue, looking at Alexius, who was watching them in shock. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Ember was still gripping her daggers and she forced herself to relax, confirming that Iron Bull and Varric were standing nearby, alive and well. They’d made it back. She sheathed the blades. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she asked Alexius in a dangerously low voice.

“You won.” Defeated, Alexius fell to his knees. “There’s no point extending the charade.” He lifted his head as his son crouched down beside him. “Felix…”

Felix placed his hand on his father’s back, patting it soothingly. “It’s going to be all right, Father.”

Alexius shook his head, face crumbling. “You will die.”

“Everyone dies.” Felix stood, helping his father up and then passing him to the Inquisition soldiers that approached. With a nod to Dorian, he followed the soldiers and their new prisoner out of the castle.

“Well.” Dorian clapped his hands together. “I’m glad that’s over with!”

The sound of a dozen well-armored soldiers filled the hall as the doors were thrown open and Fereldan troops filed inside.

“Or not,” Dorian muttered.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in fine leathers and furs walked in behind the soldiers, approaching them leisurely as the troops moved to the sides. He had dark blond hair that he wore pushed back and the start of a beard shadowed his cheeks. Though he held himself easily and there was a smile on his handsome face, his brown eyes were hard and assessing, focused on Fiona. “Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you’d given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister.”

Fiona went pale and she bowed her head, shuffling towards the man. “King Alistair!”

Alistair looked around at the Inquisition soldiers. “Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan,” he said lightly, but there was a hint of steel running through his words. His gaze passed over Varric, brows rising in surprise for a brief moment.

“Your majesty,” Fiona took a breath, glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes. “We never intended…”

“I know what you intended.” He turned his focus back to her, regret crossing his face as his voice lowered. “I wanted to help you, but you’ve made it impossible.” His shoulders straightened, his expression resolute. “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

“But…” Fiona wrung her hands. “We have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?”

Before Alistair could say anything, Ember stepped forward, addressing the mage but eyeing the king. “I should point out that we came here for mages to close the Breach.”

Fiona stiffened, shifting to look at her. “And what are the terms of this arrangement?” she asked tightly.

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you.” Dorian moved to Ember’s side, nudging her. “The Inquisition is better than that, yes?”

The elf’s shoulders fell. “It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer,” she admitted.

Ember could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to make the decision. She knew she had a choice - to bring the mages on as allies, or as conscripts. They wouldn’t be able to refuse either way. She hadn’t expected it to fall on her to decide their fate. She could only hope the others wouldn’t be too disappointed with her. “We would be honored to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition’s side.”

“A generous offer.” Fiona frowned at the soldiers around them. “But will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?”

That would be the hard part. “The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We cannot afford to be divided now,” Ember said with more confidence than she felt. “We can’t fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.” That at least was true and she hoped the others understood.

“I’d take that offer if I were you,” Alistair suggested. “One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.”

Fiona sighed and nodded, straightening her spine when she faced Ember. “We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

“Great. Wonderful. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Before anyone could stop her, she turned on her heel and made her way down a random hallway until she knew she was alone. Then she pressed her back against the cool stone wall and slid down, hanging her head and taking deep, shuddering breaths.

After a few minutes, she heard footsteps in the hall, but didn't look up.

“Ah. Are you all right?” Dorian crouched in front of her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I suppose the whole ‘transporting through time’ could be a little nauseating.”

That was part of it, but seeing her friends die before her hadn’t helped either. “Perhaps.” But his presence comforted her more than she expected and she took one last steadying breath before lifting her head. “Thank you.”

He shifted awkwardly. “Whatever for?"

She glanced around the castle walls, wondering if she’d ever see them without the stain of red lyrium. “For being there, in the future. If Alexius had sent only me…”

Dorian hummed in agreement. “Yes, I could see that not going well, for any of us. Now let’s make sure that it doesn’t come to pass, shall we?” He gestured back towards the main hall. “We should return to the others before they inform Leliana you’ve gone missing.”

Nodding, she stood and followed him back to the others, absently rubbing the palm of her marked hand.
–----------------------------

Ember paused in the hall leading out of the castle when she saw Varric speaking with none other than the king she’d been searching for. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she needed to speak with him before he disappeared with his army. “King Alistair.”

Alistair and Varric both turned. “Yes?” The king frowned as he studied her. “You’re part of this Inquisition business, aren’t you?” He glanced at the dwarf. “You always find yourself in the oddest places, my friend.”

Varric shrugged, eyeing Ember. “I go where the stories take me.”

“Apparently.” He shifted to again address Ember. “I do appreciate you taking care of this Tevinter magister nonsense, Lady…”

“Trevelyan,” she supplied. “Ember Trevelyan.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Trevelyan. That sounds familiar for some reason.”

“She’s the Herald of Andraste,” Varric explained helpfully.

Alistair’s brows rose. “Oh really? Ah,” he chuckled as he saw the face Ember made. “My wife gets the same expression when people call her the 'Hero of Ferelden'. It’s not easy to carry such titles - terrible burden, weight of responsibility, so on and so forth. Damned annoying, isn’t it?”

Varric looked up at the tall man with concern.

“It can be,” Ember agreed, noting the exhaustion on the king’s face. “Is she well? I know she disappeared some time ago and-”

“Herald,” Varric warned.

Ember continued, keeping her gaze on Alistair. “Ella’s my cousin. Slightly distant," she admitted. "We met as children and I remember her being…determined. We got into a lot of trouble during our time together."

"Determined." His lips curved into an amused half-smile. "Yes, that's one way to describe her. And she does have a knack for trouble." His eyes filled with a sudden sadness as he studied her. "You do have her likeness."

"I know Leliana is worried for her," she said quietly, already dreading whatever answer the king may give her. How could a man look so heartbroken if everything was all right?

“Ella and Leliana have been close friends for a long time.” He hesitated, glancing around to confirm that they were alone before speaking again in a low voice. “She is well, as far as I know. She has her own mission to attend to and it is easier to do so with a certain level of secrecy.” His shoulders straightened and a look of utter and complete devotion swept over his face. “My love can overcome any danger, any challenge. She’ll return before long, I’m certain of it.”

“You miss her,” Ember found herself saying before she could stop herself, swept away by the strength of the emotion in his expression. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone so hopelessly in love before.

Alistair looked at her in shock and then chuckled sadly. “Maker, yes, I do. She's more than I deserve and the days are much darker without her.” The sound of clinking metal echoed through the hall as soldiers headed their way and the king sighed. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. It was nice to meet you, Lady Trevelyan.” He inclined his head to her and then to the dwarf. “Varric.”

“Alistair,” he responded, reaching out and giving the king's arm a reassuring pat.

Ember and Varric moved to the side as the soldiers passed and then exited the castle, the king at their head. When the hallway emptied and they were alone, she eyed the rogue. “Friends with the King of Ferelden?”

He met her look with one of his own. “The Hero of Ferelden’s cousin?”

She let the silence drag for a few moments and then held out her hand. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

“Ruffles would never leave us alone for those connections.” He clasped his hand in hers and shook.

Ember shuddered at the thought. “Let’s get out of here. It’s been a very long day.”

Chapter Text

Cullen rubbed his temple as if doing so would ward off the headache he felt building. The Inquisition allied with the mages. Maker, they'd sent the Herald to handle the Tevinter magister and get the mages help, but did she have any idea how dangerous it could be? He hadn't gone to Redcliffe, trusting Leliana and her agents to handle things, but from the reports he'd received…

Was she all right?

He shook his head, trying to push away his worry for Ember and focus on the much bigger problem they would soon be facing. "It is not a matter for debate," he said wearily to the others gathered with him in the Chantry. "There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared."

Josephine tapped her quill against her writing board, lips pursed. "If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, and tyrannical at worst."

"I'm not suggesting we rescind it." Did they even have enough men to handle however many mages would soon be descending on Haven? "But precautions-"

The front doors of the Chantry were pushed open and Ember stepped inside, stopping short when she saw the rest of them standing in the middle of the building arguing. "Am I…interrupting?"

"What were you thinking," Cullen moved towards her, his voice tight with frustration, "turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!" He waved a hand towards the sky as if they weren't all aware of the Breach outside.

She hadn't been looking forward to the confrontation she'd known was coming regarding her decision to ally with the mages. Cullen's caution wasn't unwarranted - but she had no intention of wavering on her choice. If they didn't like it, they could stop asking her to take on more responsibility for a cause she barely wanted to be a part of. "We need them to close the Breach," she said calmly, looking up at him with an almost bored expression. "It's not going to work if we make enemies of them."

How was it possible for her to be so utterly frustrating? "I know we need them for the Breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves!" He shook his head, turning away as he tried to figure out how to salvage what he was sure would be a catastrophe.

She opened her mouth to disagree with him but Cassandra stepped between them.

"Enough arguing! None of us were there. We cannot afford to second-guess our people." Though the look the Seeker gave Ember conveyed exactly how she felt about the turn of events, she kept her voice even. "The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

"The voice of pragmatism speaks!" Dorian sauntered into the Chantry, leaning against a nearby pillar and looking the group over with amusement. "And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. "Closing the Breach is all that matters."

Ember nodded at Dorian, an unspoken understanding passing between them at what they'd been through together. "I got a taste of the consequences if we fail. Let's make sure we don't."

"We will not fail." Cassandra said it in such a way that there seemed little doubt she could be wrong.

Leliana held up the report that Ember had sent while on the way back from Redcliffe. "We should look into the things you saw in this 'dark future'. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?"

Dorian chuckled. "Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"

"One battle at a time." Cullen straightened his shoulders, resolute. They had a goal and he would do what needed to be done to ensure they arrived at it safely. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the War Room." Sheepishly, he looked to Ember, giving her a hesitant smile in apology. "Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all."

She glanced down at her hand, frustrated that it still seemed to be the thing Cullen most cared about when it came to her.

Josephine began walking towards the War Room, quill already scratching against parchment. “Meet us when you’re ready.”

“I’ll skip the war council.” Dorian straightened and stepped away from the pillar. “But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.”

Ember turned towards him in surprise. “Then you’re…staying?” She’d expected him to leave once Alexius had been dealt with.

He grinned at her and waved a hand in the air. “Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

Cassandra groaned and followed Josephine, Leliana going with her.

"There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present," she admitted.

“Excellent choice!” The mage leaned forward towards her. “But let’s not get ‘stranded’ again anytime soon, yes?” With a small salute, he exited the Chantry.

Cullen frowned, an oddly heavy and slick feeling settling into his chest as he watched Ember and Dorian interact with each other. "I'll begin preparations to march on the summit," he said flatly, gesturing her towards the War Room. "Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory."

"I'd hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach," she said with a sigh as she fell into step beside him. "Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk."

His lips curved slightly. "What is it they say? 'No rest for the wicked'?" He opened the door to the War Room, holding it to let her go in first.

She paused, stopping in front of him and looking up from beneath her lashes. "And I am rather wicked, aren't I?"

Every thought he had simply disappeared and he could only stare at her, heat rising up the back of his neck.

"Commander? We need to discuss how many troops to send to scout the mountain."

His head snapped up at Josephine's voice and he cleared his throat. "Right. Yes. Shall we?"

She knew that once the Breach was closed, her usefulness for the Inquisition would probably pass. She doubted it would surprise anyone if she left at that point and let them handle the rest of the mess on their own. But it surprised her that the thought of no longer getting to tease Cullen made her heart ache - just a twinge, but enough to annoy her every time she looked at him.
–----------------------------

“Bull,” Ember greeted, sitting down at the top of the steps that led from the front gate to the training grounds. It allowed her to be nearly eye-level with the large Qunari, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the recruits.

Iron Bull grunted in response, his eye following the movement of the men. “They’ve got good form. Cullen’s putting his templar training to good use.”

Her brows rose in surprise and she looked over to where the Commander stood, instructing his soldiers in their drills. “Did Cullen tell you he was a templar? He’s not wearing the armor.”

“He didn’t have to.” Iron Bull leaned against the wall so that it would be easier for her to hear him. “Might not be a templar shield, but it’s a templar holding it. He angles the shield just a bit down. Helps direct fire or acid away, so it doesn’t spray right into your face.” At her curious look, he shrugged. “Qunari learn the same thing when we train to fight Tevinter mages. Your templar’s doing good work.”

Her lips curved at the thought of Cullen being her templar and she rested her chin in her hand, fingers covering her mouth to hide it as she tried to stifle the pleased feeling that gave her. What was wrong with her? "I'm impressed by what Cullen has accomplished with the troops," she said truthfully, focusing on the things he'd done as a Commander instead of as a man.

“Damn right,” Iron Bull agreed. “It takes time to build a group into a team. But he’s got their loyalty. Now he just needs ‘em to make a decent shield wall, and they’ll be good to go.” He watched the recruits for a moment longer before looking at her. “Biggest problem for the Inquisition right now isn’t on the front line. It’s at the top. You’ve got no leader. No Inquisitor.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “The Inquisition has done all right so far without an Inquisitor.” They had Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen. That was enough, wasn’t it?

“That’s because all we’ve needed so far is damage control. A group can handle that.” He gestured at the sky. “Once you’ve sealed the Breach, it’s gonna be time to make decisions. Someone’s gonna have to step up.” Then he shifted a shoulder, dismissing it. “Ah, who knows. Maybe you’ll seal the Breach, the Chantry gets off its ass, and all these soldiers go home and get fat.”

Something in his tone told her he didn't believe that in the slightest. "You think?"

“It could happen.” He turned back to watching Cullen. “It won’t, but it could.”

They both knew it wouldn't. She shook her head, not wanting to think about an after and what it meant for the Inquisition - what it meant for her. "They'll figure it out."

"Maybe. So," he frowned, his eyes narrowing, “that Tevinter guy sent you into the future?” At her nod, he grunted in discomfort.

It hadn't been pleasant for her either. The reminder of it, and the way Iron Bull himself had looked in that future, made her frown. "Every time I think I understand magic, the rules change."

“I know, right? If I were a mage, I’d just throw fire at people.” He mimed tossing something across the field. “That’s honest.”

She snorted, trying to imagine him with a staff instead of his axe. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Anyway, I hope our new friends have what it takes to close the Breach. Damn thing gives me a headache.”

Absently, she pressed her thumb into the marked palm, massaging it. "You and me both, Bull."

He glanced at her hand. "Your company hasn't come looking for you in all this mess?"

“No, they probably think I died in the explosion.” Which was for the best, as far as she was concerned.

“Maybe.” He scratched his cheek. “But your name is spreading. They could turn up.”

“I’d rather they didn’t,” she said tightly.

He studied her curiously. “Shitty leader?”

She let out a wry chuckle, looking up at the mountain and the ruins of the temple. “Yeah, you could say that.”
–----------------------------

Every time Ember closed her eyes, she was back in Redcliffe castle, surrounded by red lyrium and the dead. The mark on her hand hummed with energy as if anticipating something she didn't understand. Sleep escaped her and she needed something else to focus on. Grabbing a random bottle of alcohol, she bundled up in her coat and left her quarters for the quiet of Haven.

She wandered the village, trading occasional nods with the guards and soldiers who were on watch. Walks in the middle of the night had become commonplace for her of late and none of them batted an eye at the Herald of Andraste moving through the snow in her nightclothes with drink in hand.

Usually, no one else was awake, so she was surprised to find Varric sitting on a log by the bonfire built up next to the tavern, staring into the flames.

The dwarf glanced up at her when she sat down beside him. "Nightmares?" At her surprised look, he shrugged, turning back to the fire. "Hawke got them fairly often. She spent a lot of nights in my room at the Hanged Man, so I can tell when someone's not sleeping well."

Ember uncorked the bottle. “I have a feeling that sticking around here is going to give me plenty.” She took a drink and hissed, grimacing. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was strong.

He took it when she offered, tipping it back. “This is awful.” But he took another drink before passing the bottle back to her. “The mage rebellion joins the Inquisition," he mused. “I’ve got to admit, that’s a twist I didn’t see coming. One thing you saw in the future worries me. I mean, it was all bad.” He shook his head, frowning. “But red lyrium in Ferelden? Infecting people and growing out of them? That’s bad.”

“It was,” she agreed, trying to not think of the way his eyes had glowed red in the future.

“Finding more of it really punches a hole in my ‘red lyrium at the temple was a coincidence’ theory.” He tossed a stick into the fire, his brow creased in worry.

She sighed, taking another long drink. “I’d like to keep hoping it’s a coincidence, if you don’t mind. I need to be able to sleep at night. Eventually.”

“Honestly, I think I’ll give up sleeping for the foreseeable future. I’ve got people trying to find where the red stuff came from. I think maybe we should make that a priority.” When she nodded, he relaxed slightly and smiled. “But that’s enough doom and gloom. You just won a big victory for the Inquisition! What’re you going to do to celebrate?”

Celebrate? There was hardly anything to celebrate quite yet. If anything, she'd made things more complicated for everyone. But she'd play along. "That's a good point. We should celebrate." Resting her chin in her hand, she gestured towards the Chantry. "A banquet? Something like a banquet?"

He could hear the sarcasm but he'd spent too many years around Hawke to be fazed by it. "A word to Josephine, and I bet she could arrange anything." He looked up at the sky, where the Breach cast its eerie green glow against the stars. "Things should be calm around here for at least the next hour. Take a moment to enjoy it. If the world's about to end, I'm sure the Seeker will let us know."

She sighed, glancing towards Cassandra's quarters. "She would, wouldn't she?"

"What are you two still doing awake at this hour?"

Varric twisted around to watch Leliana approach. “Nightingale. We’re just sharing a drink. Join us?”

Ember handed the bottle over when Leliana sat across from her.

The Spymaster took a drink and then made a face, handing it back to her quickly. “That’s awful.”

“I said the same,” Varric said with a chuckle, stoking the fire. “But if it helps…”

Leliana watched Ember take another drink. “Is something wrong?”

She opened her mouth to give some witty excuse but then stopped herself. “I watched you die for me,” she responded quietly. “In Redcliffe, you sacrificed yourself so that I could return here. You both did. And Bull.”

Leliana shrugged, holding her hands out to the fire. “Of course I did. One small life in exchange for a second chance at history? I always loved a bargain.”

Ember narrowed her eyes at the woman. “It was still a sacrifice and still noble.”

“From what you described of that future, I think it’s what any of us would do.” Varric put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“And I would do it again.” Leliana met her gaze, blue eyes steady. “You are our hope, Herald.”

The dwarf leaned back and smirked. “Besides, if you hadn’t come back, whose ass would I beat in our competition?”

Leliana laughed, smiling sweetly at him. “I’ve seen the tally board, Varric. The Iron Bull has had the lead for quite some time.”

“You wound me, Nightingale.” Varric rubbed the spot over his heart and winced. “Bet on me for the next excursion, and I promise you’ll be swimming in coin.”

Ember listened to the two of them banter back and forth, letting the liquor do its job. And when she finally stumbled back to her room, she was grateful to pass out almost instantly instead of thinking about Leliana's statement.
–----------------------------

“And what are we supposed to do, exactly?” An elven mage asked angrily.

Cassandra stared at him with a stern expression. “What you always do: complain.”

The mage sputtered and shook his head. “We’ve already spoken with Commander Cullen. No one listens.” He held up his hands, checking things off his fingers as he spoke. “We want better quarters. We want the templars kept at a distance, and some respect for-”

“This is not the Circle,” the Seeker interrupted. “You mages are our allies, not our wards. Act like it.”

“How are we supposed to-”

She leaned towards him menacingly, the words coming out from behind clenched teeth. “Deal. With. It.” As the mage scampered away, she rubbed a hand over her face and sighed deeply, glancing at Ember who was leaning against the wall nearby. “It never ends, evidently.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Ember pointed out, pushing off the wall to walk beside the Seeker, heading from the front gate back towards the Chantry.

“I just don’t know who told them I’m the one to yell at,” Cassandra complained, annoyed.

Ember winced in sympathy. “Is it that bad?”

She shrugged. “The mages are here as equals. They need to get used to what that means. It is your doing, after all. You created this alliance.”

Which she knew didn’t sit well with everyone, Cassandra included. “I had to think on my feet, and I did what I could.”

“Oh.” Cassandra stopped in her tracks, turning to face her. “I do sound like I’m blaming you, don’t I? I don’t disapprove,” she hurried to clarify. “In fact, you did well. You made a decision when it needed to be made. And here we are. I wish I could say this was my doing.”

“I am rather clever, aren’t I?” Ember grinned at the Seeker’s scowl.

“Let’s close the Breach.” Cassandra squinted up at it with a frown. “Then we will see if I agree with you about being clever.”

Chuckling, Ember nodded. “All right, fair enough. But I expect the compliment as soon as the Breach is sealed.”

Cassandra sighed deeply, but her lips had a slight curve to them. Then her gaze fell on something over Ember's shoulder and the hint of a smile disappeared. "Perhaps," she said tersely, diverting towards the barracks and leaving Ember on her own.

"The Inquisition supports free mages," Dorian's voice rang out from behind her. "What's next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?"

Realizing it had been the Tevinter that had driven the Seeker off, Ember moved to join him beneath the awning on the side of the tavern. "Give me time, I'm sure I'll surprise you."

He hummed in disagreement, watching with sharp grey eyes. "I suspect that's untrue…unless you strip yourself naked and allow the Chantry to flog you into repentance. Now that would surprise me." He looked towards the mages that were filing into the village. "I do wonder if you've considered what this support of yours will do. For mages in general, I mean. The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You've given southern mages license to…well. Be like mages back home."

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "If that means they're anything like you, I approve."

"Ha!" He shifted his focus back to her, grinning. "There aren't many mages back home like me."

"I'd believe that." She'd surely never met another quite like him. And she was sure that if they hadn't experienced what they had together in Redcliffe, she may not even like him. He was a Tevinter noble and as admirable as it was that he was trying to help, he was the type of person she'd avoided most of her life. But whether it was their time trying to escape the future or something else, she felt drawn to him.

"I never fit in." He waved a hand in the air negligently. "Bloodstains are so difficult to clean, you see."

Maybe it was the sarcasm and wit - both things she enjoyed. Most nobles weren't very fun. "So we're doomed to a future of blood magic, then?"

He shifted his shoulders. "Thing is, the Imperium was once just like the South. Templars, proper Circles, all that rot. Then it changed. By inches. Not that this is a reason to oppress us. Still," he gave her a somber look, "my homeland should be a cautionary tale, not a source of inspiration."

"I'll bear that in mind," she assured him, though she had no intention of having any say going forward. Once all the mages arrived and were settled, once they figured out a way to channel power to close the Breach, once it was sealed…the mages' fates were in their own hands.
–----------------------------

“If Fiona and her malcontents are joining us as allies, we need to be prepared.”

Ember looked up from the weapon diagram she’d been studying. “Hello to you as well, Vivienne.” It was odd for the mage to leave the cleanliness of the Chantry, and she definitely hadn’t expected the woman to track her all the way to Harritt’s forge.

“Abominations are inevitable,” Vivienne continued as if Ember hadn’t spoken at all. “Cullen doesn’t have enough templars to handle incidents. Some of the rank and file need to be trained.”

Disbelief and anger flared but she tamped them down as best she could. She would not allow templars to be created because of her choice. “These mages joined us freely,” she said steadily. “We don’t need templars to contain them.”

Vivenne looked at her with a tight frown. “My dear, I don’t think you’ve grasped the magnitude of the situation. The Veil is broken, and the raw power of the Fade rushes out like floodwaters through a shattered levee. You know as well as I do that mages attract demons where the Veil is thin. And if demons can walk our world with no blood magic to summon them, how safe do you think our ‘allies’ are?” She shook her head, glancing up at the sky. “There has never been a greater threat to mages than the Breach. Until it is closed, no one is safe.”

Ember knew she wasn’t wrong - it was a concern, and one Cullen shared. But she hadn’t allied with the mages only to treat them like they would be treated in a Circle. “You have a low opinion of your fellow mages.”

“It’s not so much an opinion as grasping the obvious,” Vivienne countered.

“I don’t think the mages of the Imperium would agree with you.” A terrible argument, but the words were out before she could stop them. Even Dorian had his worries about the southern mages, and he had negative feelings towards the mages of his homeland as well.

Vivienne arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Drunkards rarely agree that they ought to stop drinking. I wouldn’t use them as role models.” She stepped closer, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you know how young mages are found? A little girl has a nightmare, and in her sleep, she burns her house down. A teenage boy has a fit, and lightning rips his mother to pieces. Imagine your own childhood and what would have happened if the darkest corner of your heart had a will of its own.”

She wanted to come back with something ridiculous, but couldn't. She wasn’t a mage. It wasn’t her place to argue against things that she knew happened.

“Tell me something,” Vivienne watched her, curious. “As you will no doubt have a hand in shaping it, what future do you see for the mages?”

Why did everyone think she was going to have some sort of say? She wasn’t the leader of the Inquisition - she was essentially the messenger with a magic hand. “Mages should be treated like anybody else.”

Vivienne sighed, as if disappointed. “And yet, however much we may wish it, we are not like everyone else. Anyone can see that a chevalier is armed and dangerous, and they can see when his blade is about to strike. But can you spot a mage coming? And if he arrives at your stoop, can he leave his magic at the door?” She stepped back, turning away. “It’s something to consider my dear,” she suggested as she left the forge.

Ember blew out a breath, turning back to her work. She caught sight of Blackwall sitting nearby, sharpening his sword.

“There was never going to be an easy answer to the mage dilemma,” he said casually, shifting his gaze from his blade to her. “What you did for the mages took courage. You gave them a chance. Everyone deserves one. You chose for the good of us all.” He held up the weapon, examining it in the light. “I can respect that.”

She studied him for a moment and then inclined her head. "Thank you, Blackwall." The Warden was rough around the edges, but she'd found him to be honest and delightfully blunt. And he was the first person that seemed to approve of her decision. If he said that what she had done was right…she let some of the tension out of her shoulders.

His mustache twitched as he smiled. “Happy to help, my lady.”
–----------------------------

Solas intercepted her as she made her way to the Chantry. "So we have gained the mages," he remarked. "They should be able to seal the Breach."

"I'll trust you on that." It was Solas who was studying it, Solas who would be leading the mages in what they had to do. He’d said that either the mages or templars would work, but he seemed particularly happy at her choice.

He nodded and then looked down his nose at her. “You are certain you experienced time travel?” he asked bluntly. “Could it have been an illusion, a trick of the Fade?”

“I wish.” As he continued to watch her, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “You think Alexius made an illusion of his own life going down in flames?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Point taken. What an amazing gift.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “It is vital the Inquisition succeed, to avoid the future you witnessed.”

"I know." She adjusted the stack of parchment in her hands, tired of being reminded of how much rested on her. “I’m surprised you’re not more interested in your own future.”

“I know enough.” His gaze swept over the village. “If that future happened, then I - and Cassandra, Cullen, and the rest - failed to stop this Elder One. Speaking of which…you should ready yourself.”

“For?”

“This Elder One. You have now interfered with his plans twice. Once at the Temple of Sacred Ashes…and now again at Redcliffe.” He frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “A being who aspires to godhood is unlikely to ignore such an affront.”

Alexius' words from before he'd sent her into the future rang in her mind - that she was a mistake and that the Elder One wanted her dead. She doubted that helping the mages had changed that, and she could only hope that sealing the Breach would thwart the Elder One's plans enough he'd have bigger problems than dealing with her. "Well, until then," keeping her voice light, she pulled a piece of parchment out of the stack and pressed it to his chest until he grabbed it, "we'll be heading back out to the field soon while we wait for the mages to get ready. Can you re-supply with Adan?"

He glanced at the list and nodded. "I will have it prepared before we depart."

"Appreciate it." Trying to not think about what he'd said or the Elder One, she continued towards the Chantry. When she opened the front doors and stepped inside, she saw Cullen standing and staring up at a broken window with a frown. Her heart skipped a beat and she started to turn on her heel to leave before he noticed her.

"Herald." Cullen glanced at her, somehow feeling her presence, his breath catching as it every time he saw her when he wasn't expecting to.

She bit her tongue, shifting right back around to face him. "Commander. I was headed to the War Room."

He gestured for her to go ahead and fell into step beside her, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew she'd be leaving for the Hinterlands before long to finish up some tasks while they waited for the mages, and he felt like he should say something to her before she went, but he had no clue what.

"The Chargers are willing to go to Therinfal," Ember said, handing him a missive as they walked through the Chantry. "Krem offered to see what happened with the templars."

Cullen scanned through Krem’s request. “I can send the Chargers in with Inquisition troops to bolster their numbers. The information would be useful. If we’d gone to Therinfal first-” he shook his head, cutting himself off.

“Would you be more confident if I’d brought back the templars instead?” She stopped walking and turned towards him.

“I’d be less worried about the thin Veil resulting in mass possession,” he admitted. Then he sighed and inclined his head at her. “I will not endanger the alliance you’ve created. We need their help. Any precautions taken will be to ensure the safety of our people and the mages themselves. Nothing more.”

"I know, Cullen." She pushed a hand through her hair, frustrated. "You take the safety of Haven seriously and I - we all appreciate it. If my decision has led to further strain for you…"

He stared at her in surprise. "No, of course-"

The door to the War Room opened and Dorian stepped out with Cassandra close behind. "Ah, there you are! Splendid. We need to talk." He wrapped an arm across Ember's shoulders. "If you'll excuse us."

“Dorian, what-” Ember protested but the mage was already dragging her away to a less populated part of the Chantry.

“I don’t trust him,” Cassandra commented, leaning against the doorframe and scowling.

“The Tevinter mage?” Cullen asked dully, annoyed at the interruption. “He seems agreeable enough. What did he want?”

“A favor with the Venatori. He wants the Herald’s help in tracking them down.”

He knew that he should go into the War Room. He had piles of reports to read, soldiers to assign, mages to prepare. But he seemed unable to move from the spot next to Cassandra where he could watch Dorian and Ember speaking. “That’s a reasonable request. The Venatori need to be dealt with.”

“I’m not arguing that.” The Seeker’s eyes narrowed as Dorian leaned in closer to Ember. “But the Herald of Andraste being friendly with a Tevinter mage? There’s enough talk about her as is. Not that I’m not thankful he was with her in Redcliffe - who knows what would’ve happened if he wasn’t.”

“Indeed.” Cullen was doing his best to ignore the hot slick feeling in his chest that seemed to appear whenever he saw the mage and rogue together. He was also thankful to the Tevinter - he hadn’t wanted the Herald to be bait, and her doing so had nearly gotten her killed. If not for the mage…Dorian whispered something in Ember’s ear and she grinned, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Cullen gritted his teeth.

Cassandra made a noise of disgust, turning away. “Blatantly flirting in the Chantry of all places. Roderick is going to be beside himself if he hears about this.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed. Roderick was looking for any reason imaginable to discredit the Herald. Her newfound friendship with Dorian wasn’t something that he’d put together as a problem, and perhaps as Commander of the Inquisition, he should have. His uneasiness about Ember’s closeness with the mage was far more personal - and it needed not to be.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to follow Cassandra into the War Room. He had work to do.

Chapter Text

Ember watched curiously as a hooded dwarf she'd never seen before passed her on her way to Josephine's office. "Who was she?"

Josephine continued to make notes on the parchment on her writing board from where she stood outside the office door. "A merchant. I thought we should reach out to the dwarves to secure lyrium for the Inquisition's mages. According to Lady Korpin, it's raised the ire of the Chantry."

She looked back to catch one more glimpse of the dwarf, wondering who the 'merchant' was affiliated with. Apparently the Ambassador wasn't aware that she'd already given the names of a few lyrium smugglers she knew to Leliana. "How?"

"Access to lyrium makes us rather more formidable than they anticipated. We are becoming a challenge." She sighed, turning to enter the office. "Sadly, the remaining grand clerics appear to be consolidating the Chantry's power instead of comforting the masses."

Following behind her, she wandered around the office as Josephine sat at her desk. "The Chantry couldn't solve its own problems when it had a Divine."

"Yet many people continue to bear it great love. We will not benefit from its decline." She set down her writing board, studying the map pinned to the wall. "Little but the Chantry ties Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, Antiva, and even Rivain to a common cause."

"Has the Chantry truly promoted such peace?" She murmured, picking up a book from a shelf and turning it over in her hands.

Josephine nodded, massaging a point behind her ear. "Andraste's Chant is familiar across kingdoms, a source of many shared customs. That is the critical point. Common ground is the start of all negotiations."

Ember flipped through the book absently. "So if everyone listens to the Chant, things will be smooth as silk?"

"I did say commonality is merely a beginning," she pointed out. "But it's an important one. We must learn to think beyond our own wants to secure peace in Thedas."

"The Inquisition will have plenty of time for that between finding the Divine's murderer and sealing the Breach," she teased, setting the book down after realizing it was rather dry reading on trade history between nations.

"Busy as we are, I do have a question for you, if you've a moment." The Ambassador reached into her desk drawer for something and then held up a folded piece of parchment. "The remaining grand clerics sent a missive inquiring about events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They demand to know whether the Inquisition officially claims that Andraste saved you from the Breach. If it were up to you, how would you reply?"

Ember turned away from the bookshelf to face Josephine, surprised. Surely it was obvious. "Will my answer change your reply to the Chantry?"

She set the missive aside. "If Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen, and I could agree on our official stance, I could answer that. We should decide soon. The revered mothers don't seem to know what to make of you."

The revered mothers weren't alone - she wasn't sure anyone knew what to make of her, herself included. "I'd tell the Chantry I was saved by circumstance, not divine intervention."

"Yet, as rumors you're Andraste's Herald grow, the grand clerics may not believe such a humble reply." A knock sounded on the office door and Josephine stood. "A difficult situation, and I thank you for your answer. A good day to you."

"And to you." Ember left, barely looking at the noble waiting outside to meet the Ambassador. She and some of the others would be leaving for the Hinterlands the next day and there was plenty to prepare, but she found herself wandering over to where Leliana was working, Inquisition agents moving in and out of the tents.

"Your open support for the mages likely earned you enemies," Leliana said as she caught sight of her. "Our agents will monitor the situation. If the most opposed can be identified, we may still turn this to our advantage."

How odd that she had enemies of all things. "You're not planning assassinations, are you?"

The Orlesian woman smiled slightly. "I was planning to unleash Josephine on them. She kills with kindness." She straightened from where she'd been leaning over to examine a report, handing a missive to an agent and sending them on their way. "Regardless, I applaud you for your courage to stand up for the mages."

She shrugged, uncomfortable. "I just did what was right."

Leliana's smile widened. "There are many that would disagree with you, which I am sure you are well aware of." She stepped closer, lowering her voice, her gaze focused. "Reports of fade rifts and demons keep coming. The people are terrified, and it's only getting worse. The only thing that will calm their fears is the hope that someone out there will save them. You have to be that someone. No one else has any power over rifts."

"I'm not a savior," she argued. "I do it because I know I'm the only one that can. Once the Breach is sealed…"

"You hope that the rest of the rifts will disappear, that we won't rely on you as much." The Spymaster looked up towards the sky. "I do not know what will happen after you seal the Breach. But I do know that you are more than you give yourself credit for."

She wasn't sure anyone had ever said such a thing to her. "I…appreciate the faith you have in me, Leliana. Though I don't know if it's warranted."

"Your cousin thought the same when I first met her, yet she accomplished the impossible." Another agent approached and she waved them over. "Perhaps it's time you had faith in yourself, Ember."
–----------------------------

“Anything to report?” Cullen asked a soldier at the front gates. He wasn't expecting much in the middle of the night and was surprised that the guard hesitated, looking out towards the training grounds. "What is it?"

“The Herald, ser,” she said slowly. “She left some time ago and hasn’t returned.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Left where? How long ago?” What could Ember possibly be doing outside of Haven while everyone else slept?

She shifted her feet. “A few hours. She said she was going for a walk. I…didn’t question it.”

Of course she hadn't. He was certain no one who only knew Ember as the Herald would question her. "I see." He looked out towards the fields and the few torches that were moving from other guards on watch. "Carry on with your patrol."

The soldier saluted before turning on her heel to continue her assigned duties.

Cullen stayed where he was, wondering if he should wake Cassandra - but he knew that if he even hinted at the possibility of the Herald missing, the Seeker would have the entire place in an uproar. He could find her on his own and ask her exactly what she thought she was doing, going off alone in the dead of night.

He moved beyond the gates, keeping his eyes sharp as he began to trek across the fields. He inclined his head to the few others he passed, but didn't ask them if they had seen Ember - he didn't want to raise any sort of alarm. Approaching the training grounds first, he examined the area for any signs of fresh sparring or footsteps, but found nothing.

"Where are you?" he murmured to himself, scanning the horizon, the wind stinging his cheeks. There weren't many places to go, it was either further into the mountains or over the bridge that led towards the ruins of the temple. Unease coiled within at the idea that she'd wandered off alone, in the darkness and the cold. With the amount of people she'd recruited to the Inquisition, surely it wouldn't have been difficult to ask at least one of them to go with her.

Then he thought about her going off with Dorian and found himself scowling at the snow. Annoyed, he pushed along the path towards the bridge, swearing to only give his search a few more minutes before he let Cassandra take over and handle it. It wasn't his responsibility to keep tabs on the Herald, or to-

He stopped when he caught sight of a figure ahead and couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Ember sat on a pile of timber that had been set aside for the building of trebuchets, her back to him, her face tilted up towards the Breach. He ensured that his steps made noise as he drew closer so that she wouldn't be surprised by him. "Herald."

Ember didn't look at him, continuing to stare upwards with a blank expression on her face. "Commander."

"What are you doing out here?" He studied her, noting that she didn't have nearly enough layers on for someone as easily susceptible to the cold as she was. He could see her shivering beneath her coat and started to reach to remove his own to cover her before stopping himself.

"Brooding, as Varric likes to call it." She lifted her hand in the air, showing off the faint green glow in her palm that matched the Breach above. "The mark woke me up. I thought a walk and some fresh air might help."

"I…didn't realize that it pained you." He'd never thought to ask, had never considered that the magic she used to close rifts and would use to seal the Breach was in any way harmful to her. Had she been enduring it ever since the explosion? She'd never shown any hint of distress and he'd thought the mage had done something to keep things from getting worse. "Solas-"

"Can't do anything. I'll let him know in the morning, but there's no point waking him up over it."

He wasn't so sure. The idea of her being in pain, with no way to soothe it…

"It did almost kill me," she mused, twisting her hand in the light as if it didn't quite belong to her. "Closing what I could of the Breach knocked me out for three days. Adan was sure I wouldn't make it."

He hadn't paid much mind to her during that time, focused on cleanup after what she'd accomplished. "I remember."

"Did you know there were two attempts by locals to break into the Chantry and kill me while I was unconscious?" She glanced towards Haven.

"Three, actually," he corrected. "Adan wasn't there for the final try and we saw no reason to tell him when he was trying so hard to keep you alive." And those that had tried to harm her had been dealt with.

"How persistent." She let her hand drop back into her lap, closing her fingers around the mark. "I'll return shortly, Commander. Awake, I'm quite capable of handling myself."

"You are." He could leave her, knowing that she was safe and nearby - set a watchguard to keep an eye on her and return to his duties. Then she shivered again and he found himself sitting beside her, just close enough to share some of his body heat. He joined her in looking up towards the Breach and the ruins. "Why were you at the Conclave?" he asked quietly. She'd left her home behind instead of following her father's plans and had made a life for herself as a mercenary. It made little sense to him that she'd agree to represent the Trevelyan's at such a crucial moment - and her own admittance at having been in the process of running away when the explosion happened nagged at him. "You don't seem the type to be forced into anything."

She tried to ignore the feeling of him next to her and the way her body desperately wanted to lean closer to his warmth. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." She was stubborn, impulsive and infuriatingly headstrong, but he couldn't imagine her any other way. Without her…he wasn't sure the Inquisition would have come as far as it had. He knew trust between them was shaky, but she'd more than proven herself as a valuable addition to their cause.

Her lips curved and she wrapped her arms around her middle as she considered where to start. "I told you that my father wanted me to attend the Conclave - Maker knows why, when he has four other children who will happily do his bidding. But once Bann Trevelyan decides something, that's how it will be. He tracked me down and I refused him - so he took an offer to Finn, the head of my company, instead."

Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. "Were you aware? That your father approached him?"

"No. I thought the matter done with. But, Finn's never turned down an opportunity to make a profit." She sighed, her breath frosting in the air. "They struck a deal, and I, the fool that I am, had no idea it was happening until it was too late." It still hurt her pride to remember how easily she'd been tricked. "He told me we had a job. Next thing I knew, I woke up on the mountain, fairly certain I'd been left for dead. Then the men my father had hired to watch me showed up and I put it together."

He didn't understand how she could talk about it so casually, as if she hadn't been betrayed by the two men that were meant to protect her. Anger simmered within him, his hands clenching into fists. "Were you and he…the mercenary captain…?"

"Together? That would make it even worse, wouldn't it?" She shook her head. "On and off over the years, but never anything serious. Still, I took his decision…personally. Most of my plans before and after the explosion revolved around leaving here to find and kill him."

"Which he deserves." For a leader to betray one of their own…it was unforgivable. To betray her…To leave her alone on a mountain in the middle of nowhere…

"I'm glad you agree." She shifted to look at him, wondering at the anger she could see clearly on his face and the tense way he held himself. Was it on her behalf? He cared for the people under his command, she knew that. Did he care for her? Did she want him to? He was the only one she'd told about her life - not everything, but more than she'd ever intended to. She was sure Leliana knew, but that was different. She'd willingly given the information to Cullen. He made her feel…"Why did you come out here?"

Surprised at her sudden question, he looked down at her, the words catching in his throat when he saw how close her face was, tilted up towards him. "I…to make sure you were all right."

The sincerity in his voice caused a warmth to bloom in her chest that she chose to ignore. "Not to make sure I wasn't running away?" she teased.

"The possibility didn't cross my mind," he answered honestly.

She smiled, leaning closer subconsciously towards his body heat. "Careful, Commander, or I might think you're starting to trust me."

He shouldn't have sat next to her. He should've just given her his coat and kept his distance. Every time she was near him, his heart picked up speed and his skin got hot and he couldn't stop himself from looking at her mouth. "I do trust you."

It would be easier if he didn't, because then she could keep pretending she didn't trust him either. She drew back from him and into the cold. "I told you before that I didn't trust you because you were a templar - most of the templars I've known haven't been good people. But, maybe that had more to do with proximity to my family than the Order itself."

He had to fight the urge to bring her back towards him and his voice was tight with restraint. "The Order has its failings."

"It does," she agreed. But he'd left it for a reason - even if he hadn't yet fully told her what that reason was. "Still, I…trust you as well, Cullen."

He could see that it shocked her just as much as it did him. "Herald-"

She held up a hand to stop him. "You know, if you do actually trust me, you could call me by my name. I don't think you ever have. Why?" She didn't like being addressed as the Herald, but she'd been growing used to it. With him though…it frustrated her that despite everything, he still refused to call her anything but that particular title.

Because it crossed a line he wasn't ready to cross. He cared for her and he hadn't cared for anyone in a very long time. To become friendlier with her…it would only complicate matters. Their letters were already testing a boundary he knew needed to stay in place. He'd learned his lesson about such things at Kinloch Hold, with Ryann. "It's the proper thing to do."

"Proper." Ember mused over the word, turning away and gazing out across the frozen lake. She was being a fool again, but at least she knew it. She enjoyed teasing him, much as Varric did, but there didn't need to be more to it. There shouldn't be more to it. She'd pushed things far enough for the night. "If that's what you want."

What terrified him was that he wasn't so sure that it was what he wanted. He could feel a sudden distance between them and he hurried to try to remedy it. "I don't mean to offend-"

"I know. You're not petty." He was honorable and solid and kinder than any other man she'd ever known. But that didn't have to mean anything. She stood, holding herself tightly against the cold. "I should go to bed - we're leaving early tomorrow."

Before she could move away, he stood as well, cursing his tongue. "I'll walk you back."

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded, letting him walk beside her towards Haven in silence. Sleep and distance, that's what she needed. All the confusing feelings she had tangled up within her would disappear after that - then they could go back to their light teasing with no further expectations.

When they reached the door to her quarters, he shifted to face her, rubbing the back of his neck, but couldn't find what to say. He was torn between what he wanted and what he knew was best.

"Thank you for checking on me. And the conversation." The pain in her hand had dulled and she was ready to sink into her bed for as many hours as possible.

"Of course." Frustrated with himself, he said the words before he could bite them back, his voice low and quiet. "Good night…Ember."

She froze, turning back slightly, her gaze rising to meet his. Even if he'd only said it because he felt bad - it didn't matter. Until that moment, she hadn't realized just how much she'd wanted to hear him say her name. It meant…something. He was watching her steadily, but she could see the shy uncertainty in his expression and the apology in his eyes. The warmth in her chest returned. "Good night, Cullen." Quickly, before she could think too much about it, she hurried into her quarters and shut the door between them.

He closed his eyes and let out a breath, knowing he'd crossed the line. And he wasn't sure there would be any going back.
–----------------------------

“You know, I met the Arishok.” Varric remarked, leaning back against a hay bale.

“Oh, the old one?” Iron Bull sighed in admiration, keeping his eye on the stable. “Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn’t have horns at all. Usually means they’re destined for something special.”

Nodding, Varric adjusted his coat to better showcase the open neckline of his shirt. “I met him too. The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things.”

“That pretty much sums up the Antaam, yes.” The Qunari shifted, his eye moving to the mage that was staring at him across the path. “Something I can help you with?”

Dorian shook his head in amazement. “We have a Ben-Hassrath with us? A spy. An actual Qunari spy.” He looked around at the others. “That doesn’t strike anyone as a bad thing?”

Ember shrugged, breaking apart a loaf of bread and handing him a piece.

“Says the Vint,” Iron Bull pointed out with a smirk. “When we’re fighting Vints.”

Dorian frowned, brows furrowed at the bread. “That’s…not a terrible point. Okay.”

“Let’s focus on how to convince Dennet to give us his horses,” Ember said, taking a bite of her bread and looking up the hill towards the stablemasters farm. “I have a feeling he’s not just going to hand them over to us.”

Iron Bull grunted in agreement. “He takes good care of them. It’s going to take something impressive.”

Handing the bread to Varric, Dorian straightened and began to walk ahead. “What a good thing that being impressive comes so naturally for me.”

Field report, back in the Hinterlands

Cullen -

We’ve encountered Master Dennet and his horses. He’s requesting assistance with the surrounding area before he’ll give us anything. Nothing too farfetched - finding and killing a pack of demon wolves, clearing out a few bandit camps, building some watchtowers.

All in a day's work.

A group of Venatori were hiding out in the hills near the farm - Dorian and I took care of them but it’s not ideal seeing them so far out.

Do you happen to know anything about druffalo? A farmer said one wandered off and asked us to find it. I’ve never come across one before so I don’t know where to start.

Two rifts closed, locations included.

I’ll send the count to Josephine. I know you’re busy preparing the mages and soldiers for the Breach (and that she’s heavily invested in our game - at least someone bets on me).

Watching fireflies,
Ember

Cullen tapped his fingers on the table in an uneven rhythm, glancing at the open report from Ember and then back at the others before him. He’d marked the rifts and started preparing a team of soldiers to send to the Hinterlands to build the watchtowers once locations were settled on. Josephine had received her own bit of parchment, her name written across it in Ember’s hand, and she’d held it close to her chest as if afraid someone would steal it from her.

There was no reason for him to respond. He didn’t have the time to respond. The mages had arrived en masse to Haven and they were all scrambling to find accommodations, to keep fights and arguments to a minimum, and to prepare them for the planned assault on the Breach. Responding to her incredibly unprofessional reports, especially over trivial matters, was the lowest of priorities.

He glanced at the missive again, his eyes lingering on her name. “Sweet Andraste,” he swore under his breath, grabbing a bit of blank parchment and a quill.

Herald,

I’ll send soldiers to the farm to help with the watchtowers once you provide me with locations. Obtaining Master Dennet’s horses would be a great boon for the Inquisition, so I hope the tasks he’s given you aren’t too strenuous.

Our preparations for the Breach are underway. We will hopefully have everything ready upon your return.

Druffalo are not my area of expertise but I believe they enjoy spindleweed.

Sincerely,
Commander Cullen

“I’ve been to Kirkwall,” Blackwall said, holding out his hands towards Ember. “The Hanged Man, actually. Probably been twenty years now. It was a dive if I remember correctly.”

Varric grunted in agreement as he cleaned Bianca. “It’s the dive. Filled with the best and worst people in the world.”

“Yes, I heard it was a haunt of yours.” He shifted to sit on the ground so Ember didn’t have to reach too far.

“Haunt?” Varric sighed wistfully. “It was home.”

Ember glanced at the dwarf thoughtfully before she crouched down beside one of their packs and pulled out a bundle of plants, handing them to Blackwall.

The Warden looked down at the leaves in his hand. “Elfroot.” With a small smile he glanced up at Solas. “Do elves just call it ‘root’?”

“No, we have another name for it.” He continued to stoke the campfire, not bothering to share what that name was.

Blackwall sighed, taking another handful from Ember. “Well, that’s no fun.”

Solas shook his head. “You spend too much time with Sera.”

Sitting back on her heels, Ember blew a lock of her hair out of her face, looking over at the elf. “Solas, do we have any spindleweed?”

“An abundance,” he confirmed, tossing wood into the fire. “But not in that pack. Try the one next to it.”

She nodded, taking the elfroot from Blackwall to re-pack and then shifting to dig for the plant she was looking for.

Blackwall remained where he was, untroubled at being used in such a way. “So is it true that the Knight Commander of Kirkwall became a…statue?”

“One hundred percent true.” Varric shifted Bianca in his lap, studying the crossbow closely. “She’s still bringing an extra level of horror to the Gallows.”

Dark brows rose in surprise. “You mean they haven’t moved her?”

Varric smirked. “Well if they did that, then the children couldn’t play who is brave enough to poke Meredith.”

Blackwall frowned. “They don’t really do that? Do they?”

“No….” He set Bianca down and stared off into the distance. “No one is brave enough to poke Meredith….”

“Perhaps that’s for the best, given what we’ve seen of red lyrium around here.” Ember set the last bundle of spindleweed into the Warden’s hands. “That should be enough.”

Blackwall looked down at the red plant curiously. “May I ask what we’re supposed to be doing with these, my lady?”

“Cullen says druffalo like it,” she explained, gesturing for Blackwall to set the spindleweed aside. “Maybe we can try to find the poor thing tomorrow and lead it home.”

Dorian groaned from where he was laid out on his bedroll nearby, his arm flung over his eyes. “Now we’re druffalo saviors? You don’t have anything better to do with your time?”

“Like what?” She dusted off her hands and then leaned back on her palms, gazing upwards. “It’s not as if there’s a giant hole in the sky threatening to swallow the world or anything.”

Solas choked on a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough.

Dorian lifted his arm to glare at her. “Yes, yes, you’re very funny.”

“I think so,” Ember agreed, smiling to herself.

Field report, the soggy part of the Hinterlands

Cullen -

You were right about the spindleweed for the druffalo. We had wolves, bandits and demons attack on the way back to the farm, but as long as someone held out that plant, the druffalo followed.

Did I tell you about the ram we located for a villager in Redcliffe? His name is Lord Woolsley and as soon as I told him his owner was looking for him, he went home. If only all livestock could find their way back so easily.

One rift closed, location included.

It took some wading through the river, but we found the den of wolves Dennet’s wife told us about - and the demon that was using them. We cleared out the demon and the wolves, so hopefully the farms will know peace for a time.

The Hinterlands has a dragon, in case you were curious. It took three of us to drag Bull away before she turned us all to ash. Trying to tackle a Qunari berserker was not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

Will start climbing hills for watchtower locations when my ribs stop aching.

Wondering if Bull is actually made of iron,
Ember

“A dragon?” Josephine asked in surprise. “I’m glad they didn’t try to fight it, as much as Iron Bull seems to have wanted to.”

Cullen shook his head, frowning as he examined a sword. “We should have kept the Herald here while preparing to march on the Breach. If she gets hurt-”

“She’s doing more for us out there than if she had stayed,” Leliana pointed out from where she sat on the steps outside the front gate. “She’s capable of keeping herself safe. And the others are with her.”

Yet they’d almost fought a dragon they weren’t prepared to encounter. He opened his mouth to argue, even though he knew it was pointless, but then Josephine turned away from the training field and held out a letter to Leliana.

“News from Lady Buttlefort, regarding your query.”

Sighing, Leliana read through it quickly. “I wondered when the Trevelyans were going to cause trouble. They’ve been far too quiet.”

“What have they done?” Cullen asked, setting aside the sword and picking up another, confirming its sharpness.

Leliana placed the letter beside her on the step. “It appears a distant cousin has threatened a rival with our forces.”

Cullen scowled, tossing the blade down with a bit more force than necessary. “Ridiculous. The Inquisition isn’t a name to throw around lightly. We should openly denounce these people.”

“No.” The Spymaster shook her head. “There are ways to indicate our displeasure without tipping our hand. I am not saying we send assassins, but the rumors of assassins…”

“This sort of thing is inevitable,” Josephine commented, tapping her quill against her cheek. “Her relations may become much more circumspect if we promise them future favors.”

“Let me handle it.” Leliana waved over one of her agents. “I don’t want to trouble our Herald more than we have to, especially with sealing the Breach so close at hand.”

As she spoke with her agent, a soldier ran out of the front gates and towards Cullen. “Ser!” Out of breath, he gestured behind him towards the village. “The mages are ready.”

Leliana stood, looking up towards the Breach. “Solas will need to confirm before we can know for sure.” She turned her gaze towards Cullen. “Tell them to return.”

Herald,

The watchtowers will have to wait. The best of the mages are ready and your presence is required back at Haven.

Be certain you are prepared for the assault on the Breach. We cannot know how you will be affected.

Sincerely,
Commander Cullen

Ember passed a wineskin over to Blackwall, watching the others clear camp. “What do you think of the Inquisition?”

“I expected more,” he admitted as he took the drink from her. “More men, better equipment…You may have Andraste’s favor, but wars are won by men. Soldiers.”

She shrugged, wincing as the movement reminded her of the injury that was keeping her from helping pack for their return to Haven. “Avoiding war altogether would be ideal.”

Chuckling, he tipped back the wineskin. “True enough. Still, it never hurts to be prepared.” He handed the drink back. “One thing I will say about your men: they’re passionate. Devoted. You inspire them. Build on that foundation, and you will have an army that makes nations tremble.”

“A terrifying thought.” She wasn’t looking for power, or an army. Or to have anyone devoted to her.

“I expect you’ll manage well enough. And we’ll be there beside you to help as best we can.” If her army needed soldiers, he was happy to be one of them.

She eyed him from where she sat. “You’re oddly charming for a man I found wandering the forest.”

He blinked in surprise, shifting to look at her. “I always thought myself more odd than charming, but I’ll take a compliment from a lady. They’re hard to come by these days.”

Smirking, she cocked her head at him. “Compliments or ladies?”

He laughed, caught off guard. “Both.” Gesturing towards the camp, his voice took on a teasing tone. “So is there something large and heavy you need moved?”

“That would be a waste of your particular talents,” she decided, tapping a finger against her chin as she considered.

His heart skipped a beat at the mischief in her eyes and the way it brightened her expression. “Oh, really?”

Leaning closer to him, she grinned. “You’re much better suited to standing in front of dragons while they try to eat you.”

He knew she was teasing him in return, that her casual flirtations meant little…she did much the same with Dorian. But he couldn’t help but admit he had some affection for her. “I have to say, my lady, you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I’m flattered you’d spend any time with me. I…enjoy your company.”

“I enjoy your company as well, Blackwall.” She met his gaze, not surprised to see the attraction, but surprised to find she didn’t return it as strongly as she’d thought she would. The Warden was a man she could easily have seen herself spending more personal time with but…her interest was elsewhere, as much as it frustrated her.

“Ready to go, Herald?” Varric called out, passing a pack to Iron Bull.

Pushing away the thought of Cullen, she stood and made her way to the rest of her companions. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.” She’d deal with what came after if she survived sealing the hole in the sky first.

Chapter Text

Cullen looked over in time to see Ember wince and grasp her side. He nearly reached for her but curled his hand into a fist instead. "Are you certain you're well enough for this?"

She nodded, rubbing at the tender ribs and taking a breath. "I can't put off sealing the Breach because of a bad decision. They're waiting." From where she stood in the center of the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she glanced over at the rows of mages and soldiers that were lined up, watching her. The Breach was above her, crackling and pulsing in a way she could feel reflected in her hand, though she was doing her best to ignore the sensation.

What would a few more days harm? No one knew if the magic would work or what it would mean if it didn't - what it would if it did. If Ember was hurt…He felt his stomach tighten with worry. "This could harm you even further. It's dangerous and if you're not ready-"

"Cullen," she said gently. "I've been in danger since I walked out of the Fade." Was he actually worried for her? Or was it still about the mark on her hand? Before she could try to determine the answer, Cassandra called her name. She gave him a reassuring smile before turning away. "It'll be all right."

He watched as she joined Cassandra and then moved to take his place among his men. As Solas addressed the mages, he motioned for his soldiers to be on guard, keeping his own senses open to any possible change. Magic hummed in the air and if an abomination appeared, it would need to be cut down quickly - not only for the safety of those nearby, but also for Ember. When they were ready to begin, the magic would be channeled into her, into her hand, and any backlash or interruption could be a disaster.

Ember grit her teeth as she began making her way closer to the energy that spewed out of the Breach. She needed to get below it, be enveloped in it, to direct the magic into the very center of the tear. The further she went, the more she struggled. Her hand was on fire and everything felt tight and hot. Energy hummed around her and she had to dig her feet into the ground to fight against the pressure trying to push her back. She glanced back at Solas, but he shook his head without even looking at her, his eyes on the mages as if he could see the lines of magic in the air. He was saying something to them, but she couldn't hear over the roar of the Breach. Her hand started to rise up of its own volition, the raw energy connecting with her through the mark, sinking into her veins. "Solas!"

"Now!" He instructed, lifting his staff into the sky to direct the others.

With more effort than she anticipated, she shifted her arm and held her palm out towards the Breach in the same way she did with the rifts. A heavy surge of magic flowed into her and she gasped at the shock of it, uncertain how she was meant to control such power.

"Close it!" Cassandra yelled.

The magic rushed out of her and poured itself towards the sky in a blinding beam of light. Going on instinct, she clenched her hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin of her palm, and pulled back sharply.

Everything around her exploded.

Cullen and those near him were knocked back by the force of it. It took the breath out of him and in a daze, he stood, helping the soldier next to him up. A quick sweep of the surrounding area confirmed no one was hurt - magic still rippled in the air but he felt it weakening. The mages remained where they were with no abominations in sight.

Cassandra coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the dust in the air. "Herald?"

He turned to see the Seeker push her way past some of the agents near her. Solas was leaning on his staff and looking up at the sky. But where Ember had been was just a cloud of smoke and dirt that obscured the vision. He took a step forward, prepared to toss aside anyone and anything in his way to find her.

Stopping at the edge of the smoke, Cassandra reached out.

Relief flooded Cullen as the haze began to clear and he saw Ember stand, Cassandra's hand on her shoulder. She was pale and shaking but seemed otherwise unharmed.

"You did it," the Seeker said, gesturing upwards.

Ember flexed her hand, still feeling the energy within. "I believe you owe me a compliment."

Cassandra rolled her eyes, wrapping an arm around Ember's waist to support her. "You're very clever."

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Exhausted, she looked up at the sky, relieved to see that the tear was gone. Her eyes met Solas' and the two shared small nods.

As they moved towards the others, a cheer began, slow at first but then growing to a widespread roar as those in the ruins made their jubilation known to the Herald of Andraste.
–----------------------------

Ember stood at the top of the hill by that Chantry that overlooked Haven, watching as soldiers and townsfolk and everyone between celebrated below her. There were roaring fires and laughter and more ale than she thought possible. Someone had produced a lute and music filled the air, people pairing up to dance.

She felt happy, relieved - and separate from it all. She'd done what she'd been asked to do and if she wanted to go, she could, and she'd know that at least everyone was safe. It amazed her that despite her refusal to accept being the Herald, she was hesitating over the idea of leaving. She'd grown to like everyone she worked with in the Inquisition, even those she hadn't expected to. Her gaze traveled towards the barracks where she'd last caught sight of Cullen.

But it was time to go, wasn't it?

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm." Cassandra stepped up beside her, looking up at the sky. "The Breach is sealed. We've received reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory."

The night sky was blissfully dark for the first time in a long while. Scarred was an apt term - no one could deny the Breach had been there, but it was closed and no longer a threat. She flexed her hand at her side. The mark remained on her palm and there was still humming energy within it that she couldn't explain.

Cassandra shifted to face her. "Word of your heroism has spread."

"Don't they know I fell into this?" Ember shook her head - waving her hand in the air didn't make her a hero. "Almost literally."

"Perhaps you're too close to judge." Cassandra's voice lowered and her expression softened. "We needed you. We still do. We have yet to discover how the Breach came to be, and that is only the most conspicuous of our trouble. Strange days," she sighed, "and more to come."

Before she could respond, the warning bell by the front gates began to ring. Within an instant soldiers were responding, hurrying across the town to gather while everyone else scattered, voices rising in panic.

Cullen strode towards the gates, a harried looking lieutenant beside him. As the soldiers looked to him for guidance, he gestured them forward. "Forces approaching! To arms!"

Cassandra squinted out into the night as the Commander continued past them. "What the…? We must get to the gates!" Drawing her sword, she jumped down from the hill to join Cullen.

In the distance, Ember could just make out the light of hundreds of torches coming towards Haven from across the frozen lake. "Shit," she hissed, following the Seeker's lead and landing in the snow below the hill with a soft thud.

"So," Iron Bull remarked, reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet. "Celebratory drinks are on hold."

"I knew it was too easy," Varric complained, shifting Bianca on his back for easier access.

Blackwall frowned and glanced up at the sealed Breach. "Perhaps assaulting the sky drew some attention."

"Keep everyone back," Ember instructed. "I need to speak with Cullen." While the others dispersed to help calm or lead people further back into Haven and away from the gates, she followed the flow of soldiers and recruits.

"Cullen?" Cassandra called out, pushing past those between her and the tall Fereldan man.

He stood near the gates with a solemn expression, nodding at something a messenger was telling him. He jerked his chin towards the mountain. "One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked incredulously, as if already writing a sternly worded letter in her mind to whichever nation dared attack them.

"None," Cullen said simply, looking over at Ember as she joined them.

The Ambassador stared at him in shock. "None?"

A sudden banging on the front gates cut off any further questions.

"I can't come in unless you open!" a young man's voice rang out from the other side.

Cullen made a grab for Ember as she moved past but she was too quick and had gone down the stairs and pushed open the door before he could stop her.

A large man in thick armor towered over her on the other side, walking forward slowly. A circle of bodies surrounded him. She reached for her daggers but before she could pull them out, the soldier fell forward to reveal a skinny man in a wide-brimmed hat behind him, holding his own daggers aloft, blood dripping from the blades.

"Wait," Cullen followed behind her, frustrated at her insistence to run straight into danger.

Ember didn't hear or notice him, already moving to confront the stranger, surprised at his ability to down someone twice his size.

"I'm Cole," he introduced himself in a rush. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you." His pale blue eyes stared into hers, unblinking, as he lowered his knives. "You probably already know."

"What is this?" She looked behind Cole towards the approaching horde. "What is going on?"

Cole's voice lowered as he watched her with a mix of curiosity and sadness. "The templars come to kill you."

"Templars?" Cullen nearly yelled, unsheathing his sword. He ignored the newcomer, turning towards Ember. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

"The red templars went to the Elder One." Cole leaned close to her. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages." He pointed upwards towards the mountain.

She followed his gesture and her brow furrowed in confusion. Standing atop an outcropping of rock on the mountain was a man in black armor, holding a large red sword. A tall, lanky figure appeared next to the man, sneering down at the town. He looked twisted and wrong and…blighted. There was a presence about him that instantly shot a bolt of fear through her - and something familiar that nagged at the back of her mind.

"I know that man," Cullen said, shaking his head in disbelief as he realized who he was looking at - when was the last time he'd seen Samson? "But this Elder One…"

"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole explained calmly.

The Elder One. Solas had warned her…She snapped herself out of her thoughts, tearing her gaze away from the enemies on the mountain. "Cullen!" She looked to him in sudden desperation, unsure what to do. "Give me a plan! Anything!"

Cullen's eyes swept over the force heading their way and his expression went flat as he began to calculate. "Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He gestured towards the trebuchets the recruits had built. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!" Taking a breath, he turned back towards the town and the soldiers and mages that were lined up, waiting for orders with trepidation. They were going to need all the help and power they could get. "Mages! You - you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy! Inquisition!" With his sword raised, he shifted to again face Samson and his army. "With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"
–----------------------------

Twisted templars with red crystallized growths protruding from their armor and glowing eyes behind their helms swarmed over Haven. Ember and the others had managed to clear out a few groups of them so that the closest trebuchet could fire, sending a cascade of snow and ice down onto the army, but it wasn't enough. They'd gone to the next trebuchet only to find the soldiers that had been manning it already dead and more monstrosities waiting.

"What happened to them?" Ember shouted as she drove her daggers into a templar's back, horrified at the odd raspy noises they made.

"This is red lyrium," Varric growled as he reloaded Bianca.

Cassandra grunted, slamming her shield into an enemy and knocking him over. "But why is it growing out of them?"

"Perhaps we should fight now and question later," Dorian suggested, spinning his staff and sending out a line of lightning through a group, his eyes meeting Ember's. They'd seen similar things at Redcliffe, in the future of the Elder One.

"This is piss!" Sera shrieked, her arrows flying overhead.

Ember shifted to flank a templar engaged with Iron Bull and thrust her blade up between their ribs. "Bull, can you get the trebuchet turned?"

"On it." He jumped onto the platform and began to crank the machine around while the others kept the enemies at bay. "Firing!"

They watched as the trebuchet flung a large boulder across the lake where it slammed into the mountainside. Within moments, a roaring sound filled the air, followed by screams of panic as an avalanche cascaded down onto the templars still making their way towards Haven.

Cheers from the nearby soldiers sounded and Varric patted Ember on the back as they all took a moment to relax and breathe. Surely that had bought them enough time to regroup and-

A new roaring sound reverberated in their skulls, a shrieking yell that was closely followed by a blast of fire from the sky as large wings beat overhead. Ember barely had time to register the dragon before the trebuchet exploded and the force of the heat sent her smashing into the ground.

Dazed, she pushed herself up to see the remains of the trebuchet littering the clearing. Fire was burning around her and screams erupted out of Haven as the dragon flew over the town, spewing flames as it went.

"That is not possible," Solas whispered, eyes locked on the dragon as he took her offered hand to help him stand.

Cassandra scowled, looking around at the carnage and the dead bodies. "We can't face it here! We have to…do something!"

Ember shook her head, trying to clear the ringing from her ears. "Everyone to the gates!" She didn't know what shelter the town could provide, but being out in the open wasn't going to help. She grasped her side as they went, her ribs aching. "Harritt!" The blacksmith beat at the door of the smithy, focused on his task instead of running. "We have to go!"

"Blasted shoulder! Herald! Help me with this door!"

She waved the others on, joining Harritt to push aside boxes that were blocking the door.

"Good one! Just grabbing the essentials," he promised, rushing inside. "Won't die for the forge!"

The forge was on fire - everything was on fire. The flames roared and she could feel the heat on her skin, even as her fingertips tingled from the cold of the snow. Smoke shifted with the wind and she covered her mouth with her forearm to try to block the worst of it, eyes watering. She waited for Harritt to reappear and then urged him towards the gates.

Cullen stood at the entrance, ushering panicked townsfolk and soldiers inside. "Come on, through here! Everyone inside! Pull back now!" He saw Ember and Harritt and relief mixed with impatience spread across his face. "Move it. Move it!"

She hurried through with the last group of people and the doors slammed closed behind her. As everyone else ascended the stairs and headed further into Haven, she remained where she was and looked to Cullen.

"We need everyone back to the Chantry!" He instructed. He started up the steps then turned back to her. "It's the only building that might hold out against…that beast!"

She could see the anger in his eyes - and the defeat. "Cullen-"

He shook his head, raising his arms and then letting them fall helplessly as he scowled. "At this point…just make them work for it."

A few of the others were waiting for her at the top of the stairs. She watched Cullen draw his sword and move with a group of soldiers through the streets, clearing out red templars as they went. "To the Chantry," she explained to her companions, grimacing as the dragon let out another shriek. "Grab any survivors that you can and get to safety." Turning to take a different path than the Commander, she gripped her daggers and followed the screams and pleas for help, trying to save as many as possible.
–----------------------------

"That's the lot of them!" Varric held Bianca ready as he looked around to ensure there was no one else to rescue. "Let's go!"

They'd made a sweep of Haven as best they could, sending the survivors towards the Chantry. Soldiers were making last stands and their forces were being beaten back towards the large stone building. Ember hesitated, not willing to leave if there were more people to find.

"Job's done!" Iron Bull grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away.

The Chantry doors opened as they crested the hill and Roderick gestured them inside. "Move! Keep going! The Chantry is your shelter!"

She waited for everyone within sight to get into the building and then helped shut the thick doors, stepping back as others began to reinforce it. When she turned, she saw Roderick falter and begin to collapse before Cole appeared at his side and caught him.

"He tried to stop a templar," Cole explained as he half-walked, half-carried the Chancellor towards a nearby chair. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

"What a charming boy." Roderick held onto his side where blood seeped from a wound and sat in the chair, grimacing.

They'd had their differences, but Ember didn't want to see him die. She didn't want to see any of the people of Haven die, yet the town had been strewn with bodies - she hadn't been quick enough to save them all.

Had it been her choices that had led to such destruction?

"Herald!"

She glanced up to see Cullen hurrying towards her and pushed the thoughts from her mind, knowing there were more immediate things to focus on.

"Our position is not good," he told her quietly when he reached her. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us." He was relieved to see her alive and unharmed and his hands itched to reach up and push her hair back from her face, to wipe away the smudges of soot on her cheeks - but the injured and scared surrounded them and it was his duty to keep them all safe, as long as he could.

"I've seen an Archdemon," Cole said, kneeling beside the chair and holding Roderick up. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen snapped. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!" He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration, his mind racing with options.

Cole's expression turned morose and his eyes went to Ember. "The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

"What?" Cullen asked breathlessly, so quiet he wasn't sure anyone even heard him.

She frowned, studying Cole as she considered her response. The Elder One had come for her. She was a mistake that he'd tried to erase, and when she'd thwarted him…"If it will save these people, he can have me."

Cole shook his head. "It won't. 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 stared at the strange young man and then shook himself out of it, turning back to Ember. His voice lowered and softened. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them down was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

She met his gaze, brow furrowing at what he was suggesting. "We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

“We’re dying,” he said simply, regret coursing through him. “But we can decide how. Not many get that choice.”

He was right and she knew it. She'd seen the state of the town as well as he had and she knew when a loss was inevitable. She flexed her marked hand absently as she looked around the Chantry, at the panicked and uncertain people that huddled within. Frustration and helplessness and guilt clawed at her chest and when she looked back at Cullen, she saw the same reflected in him. If they were going to die, they might as well go out on their own terms, and take more of the bastards with them.

“Yes, that.” Cole’s voice broke the silence. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

Roderick hesitated and then took a shaky breath. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.” He attempted to stand, Cole hurrying to support him. “The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could…tell you.”

The man had only ever looked at her with distrust and hate before, but suddenly there was something new in his expression. Hope? “What are you on about, Roderick?”

“It was a whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start - it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one that remembers…” The Chancellor trailed off, looking towards the back of the Chantry. “I don’t know, Herald. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident.” His eyes found their way back to hers. “You could be more.”

His words settled uneasily in her gut - knowing Roderick had never considered her the Herald had been something of a small comfort, even if his needling about it had been annoying. Chosen or not, she only wanted to help, and if the attack on Haven was her doing then she'd do her best to fix it. No matter the cost. Slowly, she nodded, keeping her eyes on Roderick but turning her head slightly. "What about it, Cullen? Will it work? Getting everyone out while I handle the trebuchet?"

"Possibly," Cullen admitted as he considered logistics and distance. "If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

She ignored his question, straightening her shoulders. "If that thing is here for me, I'll make him fight for it."

"And when the mountain falls?" A dull panic was growing within him and he needed her answer, needed to know what she intended. "What about you?"

Ember frowned and looked away, remaining silent. Her decision was made but she saw no reason to speak it aloud and make it real.

Her silence hit Cullen like a hammer. There would be no escape - she would give herself up to save them. Hadn’t she said as much? His heart sank, his head shaking in denial. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” he found himself saying as he stared at the profile of her face, clinging to a hope he knew he had no right to. When she continued to not respond, he had to fight back the urge to grab her and drag her away from such a decision. Taking a breath, he signaled some of his soldiers over and delivered instructions to them before sending them out of the Chantry. “Inquistion!” he yelled to the rest of the people in the building. “Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

“Herald…” Roderick drew her attention back to him. “If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

She inclined her head in silent thanks.

Cole placed Roderick’s arm over his shoulders and supported him around the waist, turning to walk away.

Cullen stepped up next to her and gestured towards the soldiers he had sent ahead. “They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance,” he couldn’t stop himself from placing a hand on her shoulder, his chest tightening when she looked up at him, “if you are to have a chance - let that thing hear you.”

Ember hadn’t expected to feel regret when she looked at the Commander, but it was there, burning a small hole in her heart. She wanted to stroke her fingers over his cheek, to soothe the worried lines around his eyes. For a moment, she considered giving in and doing so - it would probably be the last time she'd see the man. Instead, she pulled away and gave him a reassuring smile like she had at the temple ruins. "It'll be all right." And without a backward glance, she exited the safety of the Chantry, ready to face her death.
–----------------------------

“All right,” Iron Bull hefted his large axe across his shoulders and grinned. “Time to get loud.”

Ember spun a dagger in her hand as she eyed the burning town and determined the best path forward. "When the way is clear and that trebuchet is ready to go, I want you all to return to the Chantry and join the others up the path."

"Herald-" Varric began to protest.

She shook her head. "I'm not asking you to die today, Varric. This Elder One is here for me. Help with getting their attention and then leave - it's my responsibility to take care of the rest."

Dorian sighed, stepping forward. "We need to be noticed? Happens to be a specialty of mine."

The red templars had swarmed into the town in greater numbers than she'd been expecting. The four of them made as much noise as possible as they moved towards the gates of Haven, drawing attention away from the Chantry. Dorian's spells crackled through the air, the mechanical noise of Bianca firing bolt after bolt echoed amongst the stones. Iron Bull let out guttural war cries, charging into packs of enemies at a time and hewing through them with his axe.

And Ember made sure that she remained visible and always within view so the Elder One and his dragon would know exactly where she was.

When they reached the trebuchet set at the edge of Haven, the bodies of the soldiers Cullen had sent to load it were laid out in bloodied messes - but they'd succeeded in their task.

"All it needs is aiming!" Dorian said, releasing a whirlwind of ice at a group of templars coming towards them.

"Keep them off me!" She yelled as she hurried towards the crank and began to turn it. Her lungs were burning from the smoke and her body protested every movement but she summoned every last bit of strength she had to aim the trebuchet towards the mountain behind Haven.

The red templars continued to pour into the town, climbing over the gates to assault them.

"These will put up a fight!" Varric called out as bigger monstrosities appeared, reloading Bianca and sending out a wave of bolts. He backed away, trying to keep out of sword-range.

Iron Bull chuckled, lowering himself to charge. "There's a big one."

Along with the tall, bulbous templars with crystals growing out of their shoulders and back, a creature lumbered into the clearing that she wasn't sure could even be considered human. Most of its body was made of red lyrium and it towered over the rest, dragging along a clubbed arm that was used to knock aside its fellows.

Ember cursed under her breath and jumped off the trebuchet platform, pulling out her daggers to join the others in fighting the behemoth. It was focusing on Dorian while Iron Bull dealt with the other templars and the mage was getting quickly backed into a corner, his spells bouncing off the crystal. She stabbed at the back of its legs, chipping at the lyrium, until it growled and turned towards her. She dodged out of the way as it brought its club down on the ground, staring in surprise at the red spikes that emerged from the ground around the beast, ready to impale anyone caught too close.

"I've got it." Iron Bull pushed past her, slamming his axe deep into the front of the creature. His hit dug deep enough that the next spell Dorian threw out sunk into the crystal body and they saw ice spread along the red. Varric's bolts slammed into the weak part of the arm where the club was, trying to break the weapon away.

The behemoth was too big and slow to take on all four of them. Ember used the distractions that the others caused to move around it quickly, slicing as she went. The spikes that erupted around it pushed Iron Bull back a few times, but the Qunari continued to rush forward, spitting blood to the side and grinning. She felt them pierce through her armor and scratch along her skin, her aching ribs keeping her from rolling out of the way as fast as she'd like, but she kept her focus on the fight. There wasn't time for anything else…she had to get the trebuchet into position before it was too late for the others.

Iron Bull roared and swung his axe far to the side, using the force to shatter its legs, causing it to fall so they could reach more vulnerable parts.

"Please tell me this is the last of them!" Dorian gasped, leaning on his staff as Iron Bull delivered the killing blow and the monstrosity crashed to the ground, the red crystal of its body scattering.

There was no more movement, no more templars. Ember looked up towards the mountain and could just barely make out a line of people moving up it. "Go," she instructed as she returned to the trebuchet. "Start heading back. I've got it from here."

"We can't just leave you," Varric tried to argue.

They had to. "Move!" she yelled, glaring at them. "Now!"

Iron Bull understood and inclined his head at her, horns dipping low, before he put a hand on Varric's shoulder and turned the dwarf away. Dorian hesitated, watching her for a moment before doing the same.

As they left her and headed back towards the Chantry, she returned to her task, the trebuchet moving slowly to face the mountain. She stepped back as she felt it lock into place and started to turn to see the progress of Haven's people when the shriek of a dragon sounded overhead. The dark form of it blotted out the stars as it flew towards her.

A huge blast of heat exploded nearby. Fire circled the clearing, neatly cutting off any escape. The force of it was stronger than before, sending Ember flying through the air. She hit the ground hard and rolled until she was on her back, every bone in her body shaken and yelling in protest. With effort, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, relieved to see the trebuchet still intact. She still had a job to do. She stood slowly, hissing out a breath at the pain that radiated throughout her from her wounds.

She took a step forward and then froze as a tall figure appeared through the flames before her. The earth shuddered, nearly knocking her off her feet again, as the dragon landed behind her and raised its head to shriek at the sky.

Trapped with no way out - but she'd done what she'd set out to do. The Elder One drew closer, his attention completely focused on her.

"Enough!" The tall figure said, sending out a wave of energy that quieted the dragon and pushed her back a step. "Pretender," he snarled, staring down at her with a look of disgust and hatred. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

Everything in her told her to run. Whatever the Elder One was, it was unnatural and otherworldly and wrong. But she held her ground, glaring up at him. She needed to buy Cullen and the others more time. "No more!" she yelled out, throwing his words back at him. "Why are you doing this? What purpose could this serve?"

“Because you are my enemy. Because you stand in the way of destined power.” His twisted lips curled. “Because I can.” He pointed at her with an elongated claw. “Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”

Corypheus. At least she had a name, what little good it did her. But she was the bait, once again, and needed to keep his focus on her. “You're forcing this fight for no reason!”

“You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not." Corypheus held up one hand, a shiny black orb grasped in his claws. His other hand began to glow a sickly red color and he pointed it towards her. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now. It is your fault, ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

Ember grasped at her marked hand as it began to glow and pulse, reacting to whatever Corypheus was doing. Like in the ruins before, she could feel magic burning through her flesh.

“I do not know how you survived,” the Elder One continued, “but what marks you as ‘touched’, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

Pain shot through her arm and she gasped, falling to her knees and holding her hand aloft as the mark flared.

“And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gal!”

She glanced towards the mountain. She could see people still hurrying up through the snow. More time, just a bit more time. “What is this thing meant to do?” Her voice was tight and strained, her breath heavy.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” Corypheus stepped forward and reached down, wrapping his clawed hand around her marked arm and lifting her easily into the air as if she weighed nothing.

Her shoulder wrenched from the weight of being held up, her feet kicking in the air. Nausea rolled through her as she realized how unnaturally tall the being was, and how high she was from the ground.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused.” Corypheus scowled, jerking her closer. “No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” With a noise of disgust, he flung her aside like a ragdoll.

Ember slammed into the base of the trebuchet and let out a cry of pain from the impact. Her vision blurred and she tasted blood at the back of her mouth.

“The Anchor is permanent,” Corypheus said flatly as he began to approach her. “You have spoiled it with your stumbling.”

A discarded sword lay nearby. She scrambled to grab it, holding it up clumsily as if she intended to fight him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the dragon begin to inch forward like a cat waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - the god - it requires.”

Time was running out. She wasn’t sure how much more she could provide and still be able to get the trebuchet to go off before the Elder One or his dragon killed her. She gave the mountain one more glance, relief flooding her as she caught sight of a flaming arrow sent into the sky. Cullen had gotten the others out. She could finish things knowing that they would be safe.

“And you,” Corypheus snarled, still walking towards her. “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Ember grinned up at him in defiance. “You expect me to fight, but that’s not why I kept you talking. Enjoy your victory.” She gave him a mocking bow. “Here’s your prize!” With as much force as she could muster, she kicked out and hit the trebuchet lever. The large boulder that had been loaded into it soared over the town of Haven and into the mountainside behind it. As the avalanche began to rumble, she tossed aside the sword and turned, pushing herself to run as fast as she could away from the cascade of snow.

She heard the dragon shriek behind her and then the beating of wings, faint over the roar quickly making its way towards her. She had no idea where she was going, no idea if there was even a possibility of escape, but she had to try. She saw a bit of wooden barrier jutting out of the ground ahead of her and jumped to get behind it, only to find that there wasn’t solid ground waiting for her.

She fell, hitting planks of wood as she went and scrambling for purchase, but ultimately tumbling into darkness.

Chapter Text

Cullen stood at the top of the path leading up the mountain, staring down at what had once been Haven. The avalanche had swept across it in what felt like mere moments, blanketing the area in snow and ice. It hadn't succeeded in taking out the Elder One and his dragon, but they had flown off in the opposite direction, leaving Haven to its fate. The town lay dark and quiet and there were no signs of surviving red templars.

Nor were there any signs of Ember.

He’d thought he’d seen her get away. She’d disappeared from sight before the snow had completely overtaken everything but it was impossible to know for certain. His eyes strained for any sight of her, any hint that she had survived. It'll be all right she'd told him, and yet, where was she?

“Cullen.” Cassandra stepped up next to him, her breath frosting in the air. “We need to find somewhere to camp and assess.”

He nodded in agreement. They’d saved as many as they could, hurrying them up the path Roderick had pointed out. It was more than he’d thought possible. He’d failed in his duty, in protecting those he was sworn to care for. He’d been ready to give up and bury them all.

It had been Roderick and Ember that saved them. Ember that had stayed behind to ensure their escape. And she…

“Keep a lookout for any survivors as we go,” Cullen instructed quietly to a few of his soldiers. He had little hope that anyone could make it through the avalanche, but Maker-willing, he would find them if they did. With one last look at the town, he turned away and towards those still left that depended on him, his heart heavy. “Move out. Let’s get these people somewhere safe.”
–----------------------------

Ember awoke to darkness. She choked on a breath as every ache and stab came back to her at once, shocking through her system. The Anchor in her hand flared, the crackling green energy giving off an eerie dull light.

Vision swimming, she remained lying on the hard, cold ground, trying to orient herself. Where had she ended up? She wasn't buried under ten feet of snow, which was a surprise. She remembered jumping for cover and then…falling? She waited for her sight to clear and then squinted above her, but there was no light to be seen.

Slowly, testing herself, she sat up. Her ribs creaked in protest and she let out a hiss, grasping them as she looked around. She’d fallen into a cavern, covered in snow and ice, with wooden beams built into the walls - many of which she remembered hitting on her way down. “An old mining shaft?” she murmured.

She hoped that was the case. If it had been used for mining in the mountains, then there could be an exit - somewhere. Wrapping an arm around her middle, she did her best to assess the damage. Scrapes and bruises and wounds from fighting the red templars and the tumble down, but nothing appeared to be broken or impaled. She was bleeding in multiple spots, but most of it seemed to have slowed - whether that was due to the cold or the cuts not being overly deep, she wasn’t sure. As carefully as she could, she got to her feet, and then leaned against the cavern wall as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Pressing a hand to her temple, she felt a sticky wetness beneath her fingers, but it too was a slow trickle, mostly dried down the side of her face. One of her ankles hurt to put pressure on and her shoulder had a keen ache from when Corypheus had lifted her. Closing her eyes against the pounding behind them, she wondered how long she’d been there.

She shivered, causing the aches and pains to protest at the movement, the cold seeping into her bones. But she was alive and that was more than she’d thought she’d be after facing down a dragon and an avalanche. Though she wasn’t sure how long that would continue to be the case.

“Have to move,” she told herself, forcing herself to straighten and open her eyes. She held out her marked hand, uncertain why the Anchor was flaring but thankful for the light, and gingerly began walking through the tunnel connected to the cavern. The only sounds were her footsteps and her gasping breaths echoing around her. Multiple times she had to stop and lean against the stone, waiting for dizziness and pain to fade.

It felt like hours before she heard howling wind and felt the faintest hint of a breeze. “There,” she breathed in relief as she caught a flicker of light in the distance. The thought of an exit spurred her on and she pushed herself forward, finding herself in a large cavern - larger than the one she’d fallen into.

Ahead she saw an opening, where the air was fresh and beckoning. She started towards it then paused at a scrabbling, hissing sound. “Who’s there?” she called out, though she expected no response. She held her hand aloft to spread more light but there was nothing to see.

Her daggers were still sheathed at her side and she’d fight if she had to, but she wasn’t sure if she could, or for how long. Her body was beaten and exhausted and she was certain she only remained standing due to the stubbornness her father had always berated her for. If she was lucky, the sound would just be rats.

But luck wasn’t on her side.

As she stepped further into the cavern, the hissing noise grew, and out from the shadows emerged a set of despair demons with a handful of wraiths. She stopped where she was and nearly sighed. Her role with the Inquisition was to fight demons and close rifts - yet there she was, about to be killed by them in some forgotten tunnel in the mountain. She reached for a dagger as they approached, steeling herself, but then her marked hand jerked her forward.

She let out a cry of pain and shock as a surge of magic released itself from her palm, a tear appearing before her. A rift opened in the air but instead of more demons pouring forth, the energy seemed to be reversed, and the despair demons and wraiths began to shriek as they were drawn into it. As soon as they were gone, the tear sealed itself and disappeared. The Anchor returned to its previous faint glow as if nothing had happened.

Breathing heavily and grasping her wrist, she stared down at her marked palm in wonder and fear, wishing desperately that Solas was with her to explain what had happened. She clenched her hand into a fist and let out a shaky breath before continuing towards the exit, knowing her priority was to get out.

The cavern exited onto the side of the mountain and all before her was snow and empty land. She shivered as the wind hit her, gritting her teeth against the pain. A brutal chill howled around her and brought down flurries of ice - she’d walked straight into a snowstorm and there was no landmark to tell her where she was. She had no idea how far up the tunnel had been set, or if it was even the correct mountain. She knew Cullen and the others had gone upwards, but the idea of actually reaching them…

She stepped into the snow and began the ascent. It was slow-going, walking against the storm and trying to ignore the protest of every part of her body with each step. She found signs of others having passed the same way as she went - a broken down cart, discarded rags, torches long gone cold. There was no way for her to know if they were from the people of Haven, but she had nothing else to follow.

The snowstorm grew into a blizzard, battering against her. She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched over, teeth chattering. Everything around her was white snow and dark shadow and she no longer knew which direction she was going.

A wolf began to howl, its sad call mixing with the shriek of the wind.

Ember let out a weary sigh, squinting ahead to see if she could make out any movement or shadows, but there was only ice and the tall black lines of trees. She knew that if she encountered any type of predator, she’d be too weak to fight - it was a miracle she was still standing. But her only choices were to keep climbing or let the mountain take her.

As she continued on, she approached a cluster of trees. Insignificant but for the abandoned campfire nestled beneath where someone had taken shelter. She frowned at the charred wood and shook her head. “It’s cold. Nothing.” There was no way of knowing how long she’d been unconscious in the cavern - when she was able to catch glimpses of the sky, it was dark, but that meant little.

Eventually, the storm began to settle, but that only made things worse. The snow grew deeper the higher she climbed and she struggled to get through it, moving slower than she had been. The still air was brittle and sharp and every breath hurt.

The wolf’s howling grew louder.

Ember stopped for a moment and looked around. She’d thought she’d seen the light of a campfire but couldn’t be sure. Her head was pounding and her thoughts felt slow and weighted. The snow was thigh-high and she could barely feel her legs any longer.

She stumbled at her next step, nearly falling but just managing to keep her balance. Looking up the path, she wondered how much further she had until she reached the top - and what she would find when she got there. A dark spot caught her eye and she could just make out a trail of smoke rising. Approaching cautiously, she found another dead campfire, but it still had a hint of orange glow.

“Embers?” she mumbled, her lips cracked. “Recent?” She stared at the campfire as if it somehow held an answer and then burst into laughter. Embers, Ember. Perhaps that's exactly what she was, just a stubborn spark refusing to go out amidst long-gone ash.

She regretted the laughter immediately as her body was wracked with pain and she turned her head to the side, spitting out the mouthful of blood that had risen up her throat. Trying to steady herself, she pressed the heel of her palm to her temple and took a breath. She was almost to the top and if the fire was recent, then someone had to be nearby.

The wolf howled again, closer than before.

Muscles burning, she pushed forward through the snow. When she crested the top of the path, she let out a relieved gasp - there was a valley below, dotted with campfires and tents and people moving around. She was still a fair distance away, but if she could make it a little further…

Ember took another step then cried out as her leg sank deep and gave out, her injured ankle finally refusing to hold her weight. She caught herself as she fell, her hands scraping against the ice. With a groan of effort, she rolled until she was on her back, breathing in air that stabbed her lungs. She’d made it so close - warmth and safety were within reach.

But she didn’t have the strength to get up, or the voice to call out. Whatever energy she’d been holding onto disappeared and a bone-deep weariness settled into her as the mark on her hand stopped glowing, leaving her in darkness.

She stared up at the night sky, resigned. Considering how exhausted she was - going straight from the Hinterlands to sealing the Breach, the party at Haven, the fight against red templars and Corypheus - she was amazed she’d made it as far as she had. She should’ve died in the avalanche. Maker, she should’ve died at the Conclave. Perhaps her fate had always been to expire on a mountain.

Her vision began to waver around the edges and she could no longer feel herself shivering. Breathing was painful, but everything else was blissfully numb. She let her eyes close, mildly surprised that her last thought before slipping into darkness was of Cullen.

The wolf howled once more, its cry echoing across the mountaintop.
–----------------------------

Cullen was doing his best to ignore the grief he could feel clenching around his heart. There would be time for it later but he needed to focus on the task at hand. Injured and scared villagers milled around the makeshift camp they’d made, crying and whispering to each other.

His mind was reeling with everything that had happened, everything that needed to be done to restore what order they could.

“Where will we go?” Cassandra asked as she walked beside him, taking stock of what they’d saved and what they’d lost.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “For now, we just need to make it through the night.” He glanced towards the mountain pass as a wolf howled. They hadn’t encountered any on their way up the path to the valley, but there was at least one that was trying to make its presence known. He made a note to add more patrols around the vicinity, if he had soldiers to spare for it.

Cassandra paused and jerked her chin forward. “They’re waiting for us.”

Cullen looked over to see Leliana and Josephine bent over a table with a map laid out before them. Decisions would need to be made before long. No one had seen the attack coming, and they hadn’t been as prepared for it as he would have liked. Everyone was scared and tired and unsure.

And they’d lost their Herald.

He shook his head, pushing away the pain as it tried to make itself known. He had no right to grieve her. He’d failed her and she’d paid the price for it. Just like he’d failed at Kinloch Hold and Ryann-

“Commander.” A soldier hurried up to them, out of breath and battered. “Report of something on the mountain path.”

“If it’s that damned wolf, shoot a few arrows in warning. If it comes back, then kill it. We’re not going to make ourselves an easy meal.” Cullen turned away, squaring his shoulders for what he was sure was going to be a long night of arguing with the other Inquisition leaders. If there even was an Inquisition any longer.

“No, ser,” the soldier said tentatively, “it’s not the wolf.”

Cullen looked back at him and frowned. “Well if it’s a survivor, take some of your comrades and help them to camp.”

When the soldier continued to just stand there looking nervous, Cassandra groaned in impatience. “Spit it out. We don’t have time for this.”

The soldier lowered his voice. “We don’t know what it is, but when we tried to hunt down the wolf, we saw a glow moving up the mountain. Like the rifts and the Herald’s mark at the Breach and-”

Cullen was already pushing past him, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Where was it?” the Seeker asked as she followed, dragging the soldier with her.

“Not far, just at the top of the hill. But then it disappeared and we’ve seen no sign of it since, nor any movement.”

It wasn’t possible. The chance of her surviving the avalanche, of climbing a mountain and finding them…Cullen tried to talk himself out of a flickering hope but it continued to grow. He ran ahead with renewed energy, desperation driving him forward. He crested the top of the path, finding only snow and darkness ahead.

“Do you see her?” Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she joined him, looking out into the wilderness.

“No.” Cullen shook his head and started to turn to demand where the soldier had last seen the light when a dark shape in the snow caught his eye. “There!” He rushed forward, pushing through the ice as if it was nothing. As he got closer, he could just make out the profile of a face - one he knew far too well. “It’s her!”

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra turned to the soldiers and began ordering them back to camp to prepare a cot and healer for the Herald.

Cullen fell to his knees, his hands shaking as he brushed snow off her. “Ember,” he murmured, leaning close. She was covered in blood and frost and she wasn’t moving. “Maker, please.” His breath shuddered out of him and he pulled back for a moment to tear off his coat with its thick mantle of fur. The thought of her making her way up the mountain alone, in the cold, injured as she was…He lifted her gently to wrap the coat around her, dread drowning out his newfound hope when she remained limp and lifeless. “Ember,” he said more forcefully, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to get warmth to seep into her.

She shifted slightly beneath his touch, her eyes opening just enough to see him. “Cullen?”

He nodded at her with relief, his words caught in his throat. Her gaze was unfocused and she was far too pale, but she was awake.

"Told you it'd be all right." Her eyes closed as the darkness took hold again.

“We need to get her to a healer,” Cassandra said. “The soldiers can help carry-”

“I’ve got her.” Cullen slid his arms beneath Ember, lifting her easily. He stood, cradling her close with her head resting on his shoulder. Awed whispers followed him as he carried her into camp, people wondering over the survival of the Herald of Andraste, but all he cared about was the feel of her breath on his neck, assuring him she was alive.
–----------------------------

Ember laid on a cot with her arm flung over her eyes, nearly wishing she’d been left out in the snow.

“What would you have me tell them?” Cullen hissed nearby. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!” A thumping sound as Cassandra hit something to emphasize her point.

Josephine sighed. “Please, we must use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled.”

“That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen pointed out.

“She didn’t say it could!” Leliana joined in the fray, her voice tight and angry.

“Enough!” Cassandra hit something again. “This is getting us nowhere!”

Cullen scoffed. “Well, we’re agreed on that much!”

With a wince, Ember sat up on her elbows.

“Shh,” Mother Giselle urged from her seat next to the cot. “You need rest.”

Ember shook her head, looking towards the Inquisition leaders. “They’ve been at it for hours.” Surely they had to sleep sometime.

“They have that luxury, thanks to you.” Mother Giselle smiled at her softly. “The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

After Cullen had brought her back to camp, she’d slept through to almost the next night. Solas and other mages had helped heal the worst of her wounds, though she was still battered and sore. But as soon as she’d been able to keep her eyes open and talk, she delivered her report of what happened before the avalanche to her team.

They had a name. They knew more about who their enemy was and what he wanted. And no one knew what that meant going forward.

“If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there.” It was her fault - Corypheus had been after her. She needed to help in whatever way she could.

Mother Giselle shook her head. “Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours.” She looked over at where the others stood. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall.” She turned back to Ember. “And now, we have seen her return.”

Uneasy at the implication, Ember frowned as she sat up fully, shifting so she was sitting at the side of the cot with her feet on the ground.

“The more the enemy is behind us,” Mother Giselle continued in her calm, quiet voice, “the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we’, perhaps, must come to believe?”

“I escaped the avalanche,” Ember said stubbornly. “Barely, perhaps, but I didn’t die.”

Mother Giselle nodded. “Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

Though she liked the Mother more than most Chantry people she had grown up around, Ember refused to believe it. She was not Chosen, she was just lucky. Incredibly lucky. “Mother Giselle, I just don’t see how what I believe matters. Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat.” She took a breath and stood. “We can’t match that with hope alone.”

Frowning, she started to walk towards Cullen and the others and then paused. They all wore differing levels of distress and the Mother’s warning sounded in her head. Maybe adding her voice to things wouldn’t help. Maybe her very presence was more trouble than the others would find worthwhile.

Mother Giselle stepped up next to her and in a low, smooth tone, began to sing.

Ember stared at her in surprise. It was a song she knew - some Chantry tune that sounded melancholy but was meant to relay hope. She wasn’t sure how to respond, especially when others in the camp began to join in. And then the townspeople and soldiers, while singing, began to approach and kneel before her, looking at her with reverence.

“An army needs more than an enemy,” Mother Giselle said, smiling at the people before them. “It needs a cause.”

Everyone was watching her and she felt like prey trapped in a hunter's sight. Was she supposed to say something? Do something? She wasn’t whatever the people thought she was.

“A word?”

Ember looked over as Solas stepped up beside her. “Please,” she breathed in relief, inclining her head to the crowd before letting the elf lead her away.

Solas took her to the edge of the camp, lighting a lantern with a wave of his hand. “A wise woman,” he said calmly, “worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it.”

“By singing?” Ember shuddered. “I didn’t ask to be the center of some Chantry fairy-tale.”

His lips curved in a slight smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I know.” The smile disappeared. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived…nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin.”

Finally, something she could focus on with more ease. She straightened and turned to him. “All right, what is it, and how do you know about it?”

Solas looked at her with approval. “They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire’s magic was built on the bones of my people.” He frowned. “Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.”

She took in the information and sighed. “This whole mess is confusing. I can see how elves might be an easy target.”

“History would agree,” he said dryly. “But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction.” He studied her for a moment. “By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you.”

She grimaced at the thought but she wasn’t sure he was wrong.

He gestured before them, out into the darkness. “Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build…grow.”

Ember knew better than to ask Solas how he knew of such a place - his answer would most likely be something Fade-related. She frowned into the darkness. “Why me?”

He lifted a shoulder, let it drop, watching her with sharp, purple eyes. “Why not you?”