AN: Hello lovelies. :) You might find the title I chose a bit odd, so I thought I would take a moment to explain. The song, "Scarborough Fair", where I got these herbs from, uses these herbs symbolically for different virtues. Each one represents one of the four characters my story will revolve around.

Parsley - Was prescribed in medieval times to heal a hurting heart - Cole

Sage - Long-standing symbol of strength = Cullen

Rosemary - Faithfulness, love, and remembrance = Nora Trevelyan (Inquisitor)

Thyme - Courage = Kiara Trevelyan

Chapter One

Kiara let the damp rag plop onto the wooden table and let it sit for a few moments, letting the water soak into the wood to make it easier to wipe up the sticky mess of ale splattered across the surface. People around her, mostly men, talked loudly and laughed even louder, but she was used to the sound. Garren, the bartender and proprietor of the inn, nodded to her and grinned. Kiara sighed sarcastically and started to scrub at the dried alcohol. She kept busy as always, cleaning everything in sight so the men could return to slop it up again.

With the skirmishes raging between the Mages and Templars in the area, many people had been driven to their little village and all ten rooms at their little inn were full. Many of their patrons were men who allowed their wives and children to stay in the rooms upstairs or in homes around town while they slept on the floor of the bar. Now battles were even infringing on the Crossroads, putting them all at risk again.

Kiara set a tray of dirty clay bowls on the counter and pulled her dark red hair up to tie it away from her sweating neck. Garren grinned. "Did you hear?" he asked.

"Oh good, you're being vague again," she teased.

Garren's smirk scrunched the salt and pepper scruff he was growing around his mouth. "The Inquisition is apparently in the area. They're making some kind of play for Redcliffe."

"But Redcliffe is overrun by the rebel Mages," Kiara noted.

Garren shrugged. "I guess they'd rather take their chances with magic to help them close that forsaken hole in the sky than the Templars. It'll backfire, mark my words. No good can come from those Mages."

Kiara busied herself with straightening the dishes on her tray so they would balance better, making no attempt to pursue the subject of magic. He wasn't referring to all mages, she knew, but she never made a point of discussing it. "I should go wash these before they get crusty." She saw Garren watch her through her peripherals as she swept around the counter with her tray. He looked like he wanted to speak, but she hurried off before he could have the chance.

A winter chill greeted her outside but with her hands full she was unable to hug her coat tighter to herself. She trudged around to the back of the building where a large water basin awaited use. With a cringe at the anticipation of the biting cold her hands would find inside, she plunged one of the bowls inside and used a rag to scrub at it. Her mind wandered in the mindlessness of the task and she jumped when someone spoke. She dropped the plate inside and spun to the young man. How had he snuck up on her like that? If he weren't moving, breathing, she might have sworn he was a scarecrow. Tall and slim, his pale blue eyes were almost hidden behind the enormous rim of his hat and a scruff of his blond hair. There was something unsettling about those blue eyes.

"He suspects; When you light the fireplace on frozen nights, when when you slip a poultice into his tea to help his back, when he hears you trembling in your nightmares, he suspects. Wonders if the demons are whispering to you. Knows you're afraid."

Kiara took a wary step back, scrunching her brows in apprehension. "What? Who are you? How do you know that?"

"That made it worse . . ." he said to himself. He looked uncomfortable now and averted his eyes as he fidgeted with his hands. "Don't worry, you'll forget. You're afraid of what he'll think, but he won't hate you for it. He worries, wants you to be safe and is afraid of the Templars in the area, even the good ones."

Kiara drew a slim, two edged knife from her boot and advanced on him. His eyes widened and he backed up. "Are you a blood mage or a demon?" she demanded. The next moment, she was alone and couldn't for the life of her remember why she was holding her dagger or why there was a little cloud of smoke in front of her. Her confused pondering was interrupted by a hubbub back around the front of the building that drew her focus. She slid the dagger back into it's hidden sheath and scampered out front. She hid near the corner of the building to stay out of sight of the fight.

Another Templar-Mage battle was encroaching on the town, but their seemed to be a third party involved. Thankfully, there didn't appear to be any villagers near them. Somewhere in the confusion and chaos, the last templar fell at the hands of a woman with dark, short hair sporting a large shield and sword. One of the mages advanced on her and one of his friends followed suit. She recognised them as a few of the men who were staying at the inn. The Templars must have discovered them.

"Wait! We are not Templars!" the women called out in a thick Orlesian accent. Not taking the chance, the mages who remained turned their wrath on the newcomers. The fight ended quickly, but these well-armed strangers seemed saddened by the result. Kiara's heart nearly stopped when one of them straightened to sheath her sword. The woman brushed her curtain of dark hair away from her face as she and her three compatriots began to converse. Kiara couldn't breathe, panic closing her throat.

After all these years, seeing Nora again should have brought her joy, but all she felt was fear of being discovered. There was no chance Nora would forgive her for the way she had run off without even leaving a letter for her or their parents. But she couldn't explain, couldn't take the chance that she would be sent away to a circle for having lived as an apostate for so long. Their family had strong ties to both the Chantry and the Templars, so surely they would mistrust her when they discovered the trouble she had with demons.

The young woman sprinted to the back of the building again. Perhaps if she hid back here and cleaned the dishes really slowly, they would pass by and never know she was here. Or maybe her sister wouldn't even recognize her. It had been ten years after all and Kiara had been only eleven when she left home.

"Kiara?" She heard Garren call out. She perked up anxiously. Had the adventurers come to the inn for a rest? Did he want to introduce them? "Kiara?" he called again.

"Back here," she answered. Garren jogged around the corner, looking visibly relieved. He drew her into a brief hug that she returned with a chuckle.

"Thank the Maker," he breathed. "I wanted to make sure you weren't caught in the skirmish. Bloody Templars pushing the mages to defend themselves here. Can't they do this outside of town?" Kiara mentally smacked herself. Of course he had been concerned for her safety. The way he was looking at her, she was struck with the inkling that perhaps he knew her secret and had been worried she was the one who had been discovered by Templars. A moment of deja vu struck her at the thought. How on earth would he suspect and what had given her the idea?

"Sorry, I should have come inside to let you know I was alright," she said.

He smiled. "Yes, you should have. Try to finish up the dishes and come back in. The Inquisition is going to station troops here to keep the fighting out of town and I'm sure they'll be hungry." Kiara nodded to Garren, but she took her time with the dishes, anyway, even going so far as to pat them dry with her other rag rather than let them air dry inside as she normally did. When she finally crept to the front door, the travelers were, of course, long gone. So, Nora was in the Inquisition. Were they really leaving troops here? Her heart sank. What if Nora came back to check on her men at some point and found Kiara then?

Kiara shivered and huddled into a tighter ball on the cold floor. The room was dark, but she didn't need light to know that it was empty, void of anything warm and homely. She resigned herself to fall back asleep. At least in the Fade, she wouldn't be here. But the door to her cell was wrenched open loudly and she bolted upright. An iron-clad Templar entered and remained beside the door. Nora strode in, her arms crossed and her expression stern.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" she demanded. "We could have helped you! You would have been treated well in Ostwick, Mother and Father would have seen to it. But these Templars will never allow us to take you home, now, not when you're such a risk."

Kiara gasped. "What do you mean, a risk? I barely ever use my magic, I swear it! And even then it's only to help Garren around the inn. I've kept to myself and I never listen to the demons-"

Nora held up a hand to cut her off. She looked unbelievably sad and averted her green eyes. "Enough, Kiara. Don't you understand? There's no way for us to know what kind of contact you've had with demons and they won't take the risk of you being an abomination. The Chantry has ordered-" Nora's voice caught and she hesitated to take a shuddering breath. "They've ordered the Right of Tranquility. I'm so sorry . . ."

Kiara felt her eyes go wide and she started to tremble. Her attention returned to the templar by the door as he loomed closer to her and readied his blade in case she fought back. "Please, no," she whimpered, skittering back back on all fours until her back hit the wall. She clamped her eyes shut and waited for her fate. Instead, a familiar voice drifted into her mind through the darkness, calm and soothing, but she couldn't place where she'd heard it. It pulled her toward consciousness.

You're safe, don't listen to them. It's only a dream.

Kiara inhaled sharply, pulling herself awake. Her dark red hair was splayed across the pillow. The tendrils almost looked like little rivers of blood, making her heart skip until she lifted her head and the strands followed. She was surprised to find a blanket draped over her, as she had gone to sleep without one. Another family had been driven from their home and she had lent hers to the father downstairs. She hadn't told Garren, knowing he would insist she keep it. Had he come to check on her at some point? The candle on her bedside table had been lit as well, flickering in the cold night air. She welcomed its light and hugged the wool blanket to herself, letting its warmth keep the memory of the dream at bay. But anxiety roiled in her gut.

She knew the dream had been the ploy of a fear demon. Every few nights, a demon of some sort played with her mind. Now that she was awake, she could feel the familiar feeling of the Fade releasing it's grip on her, as well as the demon's influence. But the dream had been based on something that could happen if Nora came back. The girl allowed herself a few minutes of rest and then rose from bed. It would be fortuitous to pack light, but if she wasn't coming back, she would need to bring as much as possible. That meant she would need a horse. Horsemaster Dennet had lent a few of his horses to the Crossroads. No one would be surprised to find one missing. One by one, she snuck her packs down the stairs and set them beside a few barrels at the side of the building.

On her third and final trip, she stopped outside Garren's room and pushed the door open a crack. The quiet sound of his snoring let her know he was fast asleep. She stepped into the room and used magic to light a small fire in her hand, just enough to see by. It would take an explosion to wake him, so she wasn't worried he would see.

Her heart ached at leaving like this. He wouldn't understand, even when he read her letter. After everything he had done for her, he deserved better than for her to disappear in the middle of the night, but she had to go. She crept from the room, her throat tight with emotion. She made sure her stuff was hidden before beginning her search for a horse. When she found one, brown with a long white patch on its chest and nose, she readied it with a saddle, careful not to wake the man who was supposed to be watching them. Ready, she brought it back to the inn to fasten her gear to it.

It was difficult to navigate, even in the light the moon and stars provided, and even harder to do it from the horse's back. So, she lead it by foot and held a lantern to lead her way, though the tiny flame from the candle did little. She stopped to look back when the Crossroads were a far distance off, down the hilly landscape. Her resolve almost broke and she almost turned back, but either through stubbornness or fear, perhaps both, she turned to leave the little village behind her. She jumped when she returned her attention to the path, startled by the young man who stood in her way.

"What are you doing?" he asked frantically. "You have to go back."

Kiara stepped closer to the horse, as if it would protect her from this clearly troubled lad. He kept his head down and the large rim of his hat hid most of his face from view. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked.

He looked up and crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, his eyes wide and desperate behind strands of his blond hair. "You need to go back. They needed you to be afraid, needed you to leave before she could have a chance to find you. 'Use the sister to our advantage, turn her against the Harald. Won't kill her own sister, even once she's possessed.'" The young man shook his head as if to focus himself from whatever bizarre tangent he had fallen down and his pale blue eyes flitted to her once more with an unsettling depth. She sank back. "I went to check on you again, but you were gone. They wanted you to flee, so you'd be alone."

"Who wanted me to be alone?" Kiara asked. He was about to answer when an arrow whizzed past his left arm. He grimaced and gripped his upper arm. Apparently it hadn't missed after all. Kiara looked around wildly for the culprit but only saw shapes moving in the moonlight beyond the light of her candle. The clanging of metal against metal and the grunts of labor drew her attention to a skirmish a few yards off the road. How had the young man gotten over there so fast? He wove expertly around several men in full suits of armor, but they weren't Templars. He cut them down with a pair of blades but she could hear his outcries whenever one hit him, too.

"Look out!" She called to him as another man charged for him, sword ready. How many were there? She didn't have time to look around to find out. She ran toward them and wove the magic in the world around her into a fireball spell, launching it at the man. It was too late. The boy turned from his fallen adversary just in time for the blade to gash across his front. Her fireball crashed into the man, sending him flying to the side as the lad fell to the ground. Kiara advanced on them, but all of a sudden the young man disappeared in a puff of smoke. He appeared again at her side and grabbed hold of her arms.

"There are more, too many," he said quickly. Before she could respond the world vanished around her. It appeared again a moment later, but they were somewhere different when the smoke dissipated. She pulled herself from his grip with such force that she knocked herself to the ground and dropped her lantern. The young man clutched his chest in pain, his knees trembling. He fell, having barely enough energy to adjust himself so he would fall on his side rather than land on his wound. Gravity pulled his heavy-topped hat off and it clanked to the dirt. Kiara just sat motionless on the ground, unable to wrap her mind around what had happened. A demon had just saved her life. Why? She waited for him to stir, but his eyes remained closed. Was he breathing? Was he. . . .

She crawled over to him and hesitantly rolled him onto his back. His shirt was stained with crimson and she pressed a hand to her mouth, taking a deep breath to stop herself from losing her dinner. She had seen the town's healer mend a few people. Even had to have her own hand healed once when a knife slipped too easily through a warm pear the previous summer. Nevertheless, the thought of healing someone was daunting, since she had never tried and the consequences of failure were irreversible in this situation. But it was either try or let both the demon and the mage boy he had possessed die.

AN: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it so far. Comments appreciated. :)