Sorry this took so long guys, there was some original content I was trying to figure out how to piece together, plus it was a really crazy week. But I'm back on the horse now lol

And the next chapter should be, like, 90% original content hehehehehe I can't wait :D

PLEASE Review, you guys make me so happy when you review and I love those of you that have reviewed so far sooooooo much!

Enjoy!


After everyone received their much needed rest from their travels, Amariel called the war council the next day, all of her injuries treated and feeling like they'd already lingered in Skyhold too long. What Alistair had told them about was a pressing issue, and it was best that they all get out on the road as soon as possible. And, since they were going to be splitting their party for the trip down, Amariel also invited Alistair and Hawke to come so they would know what was going on.

Still, walking in Amariel had to curse under her breath, noting all the markers and knowing they'd only be removing three. "Sweet Maker, they're multiplying like nugs," she muttered. She thought she saw Alistair hiding a smile at her side…

The next thing she noticed was the hefty stack of papers Josephine was keeping with her, giving it the evil eye. "Please, Josehpine, don't tell me I have to read that…" she said distastefully while Alistair and Leliana exchanged a quick but friendly hello behind her.

"This would be the terms of our agreements with the Merchant Princes, or a duplicate, if you wish to review it. I'd put aside three days and two dozen candles."

"I'll…pass, and just trust that you straightened everything out," Amariel said warily, and Josephine smiled.

"I assumed as much, though it will be on hand if it's ever needed."

"The mages from Hasmal arrived two days ago, and as soon as the Circle is stable, the other Templars will join us as well," Cullen reported, hand casually upon his sword as always.

"And speaking of mages and Templars, my people located Rhys and Evangeline," Leliana stated, handing Amariel a sealed scroll. Amariel broke the seal, skimming through the letter from Rhys while Leliana summarized. "As you know they were being held captive by the Red Templars, though my people were able to get them to safety. As soon as they've recovered from their wounds they are willing to serve the Inquisition, though they won't be coming to Skyhold so there are no tensions with our rebel mage allies."

Leliana finished speaking, though Amariel smiled slightly when she noticed something scrawled in a different hand at the bottom.

I asked you not to do this. I was upset until it saved them. This is good.

"Leliana, I do believe someone managed to slip by you," Amariel mused, surprising Leliana. "But since it's Cole I guess I'm not so surprised…Still, I think I'd like to talk to Cole before assigning them anywhere—he's upset enough I sought them out despite his request not to, I'd rather check in with him first on this."

"I have moved some of my agents into Caer Bronach—at the moment, the villagers prefer us to the bandits, and it is an excellent waypoint from Ferelden to Orlais. We can make it a rendezvous point for our messengers carrying sensitive information from either country. You're familiar with the caves underneath Crestwood—they'll run for miles and if we excavate some passages, our agents could easily enter and exit the keep without being seen," Leliana added, going right into what still needed to be done.

"We've already set up a better road network for our soldiers—I'm all for providing one for your agents as well, Leliana," Amariel told her. Josephine stepped forward, claiming Amariel's attention.

"This was to be expected—In the wake of so many important deaths and the rise of the Inquisition, several noble houses are attempting to spur their fortunes by crafting an alliance of their own. For now, they seem mired in arguments of seniority. It will be a long time before any of them threaten our standing, but it would also be best to deal with this now, before it becomes a bigger problem later. I suggest someone be offered as an ambassador of the Herald, not the Inquisition. If only to let them know, in a nonthreatening way, that we are watching."

Leliana sighed. "Let them squabble on their own—poking them at this point is wasted energy."

"I disagree—Josephine's right, this could become an issue further down the road. I say invite them to observe our soldiers training, to show that we are not heretical outlaws," Cullen chipped in.

Amariel shook her head. "No, I agree with Josephine on this one—send an ambassador. We should keep an eye on this—I'll leave the intimidation to the people itching to start trouble with us."

"And that request of Sera's, about the battalion…it's actually not half as insane as she usually sounds," Cullen added. "The nobles have caused several displacements of the refugees to destabilize land claims, and their bickering is causing political chaos in the area. It would be easy to divert troops through Verchiel—I can easily arrange for a retinue of our best to make an impression."

"The Commander agreeing with a plan of Sera's—the world really is coming to an end, isn't it?" Amariel asked with a half smile, getting a chuckle from Cullen. "I'll tell Sera—I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear we're acting on her advice again."

Amariel straightened. "And now for the fun part—us riding out for the Western Approach. Commander, you said we have a foothold there already—do you mind pointing out where on the map our men are stationed?"

Cullen leaned forward, pointing to the spot on the table. "Here, on the outskirts of the desert. Scout Harding and her men haven't been able to get much farther than that—the place is crawling with Venatori."

"Well doesn't that sound joyous," Amariel muttered before she looked to Alistair and Hawke with a small, apologetic look. "I'm afraid you'll have to go ahead with Blackwall and Cole—Dorian and I are going to Redcliffe to deal with something that's come up first. We'll meet you there afterwards."

Alistair waved a hand dismissively. "It's all right, we can handle ourselves. Besides, I heard what you two are doing—it's best that's dealt with now, I believe."

Amariel was surprised, but she gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Alistair." She looked back at her advisors. "Dorian and I will take the faster steeds so that we can cover more ground—hopefully we won't delay our investigation into the Approach too much. Who knows, maybe we'll even cross paths with those Venatori agents that need handling near Redcliffe."

"The best of luck, Inquisitor," Josephine stated.

"If it's just you and Dorian, be sure you don't antagonize the dragon down there—five encounters with dragons is already enough," Cullen commented as they all started to move towards the door. Amariel frowned, counting in her head before she realized someone told him about the dragon at the storm coast. She folded her arms over her chest.

"All right, who ratted so I can kill them?" Amariel asked. Cullen gave her a broad, full smile that surprised everyone else there.

"I'm not going to give away my informant. I'd like to know when you try taking a keep four to…what was it? Twenty-seven?" Cullen asked, opening the door for her and letting her through.

"It was Dorian, wasn't it?"

"You'll get nothing out of me, Inquisitor."

Amariel sighed. "Fine…I have an entire trip to interrogate Dorian, anyway." She turned her attention back to Hawke and Alistair, who'd fallen into step behind her. "I hope your trip goes smoothly. And if Cole starts…well, being Cole, you just need to tell him he's made you uncomfortable and you don't want to talk about it and he'll back off."

"What is Cole, exactly? You've hinted he's not human, but…you've given nothing to clarify what he is," Alistair asked.

Cullen sighed. "We're not sure, which is why some of us aren't entirely comfortable having him around. Why the Inquisition is keeping him around despite the clear risks is beyond me."

"Because, Cullen, he's a spirit of compassion—one of the rarest good spirits out there, as if he wasn't rare enough being able to manifest as human—and I'm not going to kick Compassion out of Skyhold," Amariel chided him gently.

Cullen paused, mulling that over. "That…changes things, actually…I take back my comments then. Though he still causes mischief like Sera. Did you hear about all the daggers he stole and hid in a barrel?"

Amariel smiled. "He took them off people's belts and put them in the barrel so they couldn't be drawn in the heat of an argument—he was preventing people hurting one another."

They started down the stairs, Amariel noting the steeds that were lined up and ready to go including her new Brecilian Sure-Foot hart, Blackwall, Cole, and Dorian ready to leave. "What about the stolen cheese and mint? The peeled plums on the windowsills? The blasted turnips in the fire that made the place stink for a week?" Cullen asked curiously, probably wondering if she had insight into those instances too.

"The turnips smelled like a home cooked meal a soldier's mother used to make, so he felt like he was at home before he died. The plums attracted flies to feed spiders, so the spiders would make the spiderwebs the surgeons need for treatments of wounds. As for the cheese and mint…well, the cheese attracts the mice, that draws the cats, so the cats smell the mint, so the cats will dance and play, to amuse the cook so she's happy enough to forget her pain of the memories of Haven so she's not so angry so that the kitchen hands don't get yelled at or beat," Amariel explained patiently.

"It appears I don't give him enough credit. I may owe Cole an apology…"

Amariel placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "I can see why it wouldn't make sense—it took a while for me to make those connections myself listening to what people were saying around Skyhold." She pulled away, approaching her hart while Alistair and Hawke mounted their own borrowed steeds. Amariel gently rubbed the hart's neck, appreciating how the elegant creature was much more comfortable to sit on than the larger horses. "Anyway, we need to be heading out. I'll keep in contact as usual, I promise."

Cullen smiled again at her as she gathered the reins. "So you say—I'll trust your companions to keep you in line the best they can."

"You act like all I ever do is find or cause trouble, Commander," Amariel said with a smirk.

"Have you noticed how many people you kill when you leave Skyhold?" Dorian asked, leaning forward nonchalantly on his horse. "You just walk down the road and find every possible kind of agent and creature trying to kill us and don't even bother trying to be stealthy—most of the time—you go right for the jugular! If you're going to kill a lot, at least learn the art of finesse for it!"

Amariel sighed, shaking her head at Cullen. "Now look what you've started—I'll be hearing this the entire way to Redcliffe."

"And yet I find I don't regret making the comment," Cullen said smugly as he stepped back. "Safe travels, Inquisitor."

Amariel wheeled the hart around, speaking as she did so. "Take care, Commander—I'll send word as soon as I have something to report."

With that, she took the lead of their group and they all thundered off, the sound of hooves echoing back towards Skyhold as they raced out the gate and across the bridge. Cullen watched them disappear, knowing that at a certain point past the mountains the six would split off and Amariel and Dorian would be traveling alone.

He tried not to think of why the thought made him jealous.

"I'll be waiting…be safe," Cullen murmured to the empty air before he turned his back on the gate to get back to work.


Dorian was quiet during their ride to the Western Approach from Redcliffe. As much as Amariel understood Dorian needed time and space after the…contentious discussion with his father—who had decided to show up instead of the retainer—she did hope that their entire trip wasn't like this. Dorian was one of the few people who truly put her at ease, and it bothered her to see him so gloomy.

Thankfully, he spoke on the first night they set up camp, waiting until the fire was crackling and there was a companionable silence between them before he suddenly started to speak.

"He says we're alike…too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to say that, but now…I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him."

Amariel had only been in the tavern for the initial part of the conversation, the part that included their fight and calming Dorian down enough to try and sit down to talk with his father. She'd left to give them privacy after that, though, after what she'd heard…

I prefer the company of men—my father disapproves.

Allow me to say: women are fine creatures. You, for instance, are amazing above all others. They're just…not for me.

He taught me to hate blood magic. "The resort of a weak mind." Those are his words.

You tried to…change me!

"He tried to change you?" Amariel ventured to ask quietly. Dorian continued to stare into the flames in silence before he started his explanation.

"Out of desperation. I wouldn't put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual…alter my mind, make me…acceptable. I found out…and I left."

Amariel blinked in surprise. "Can blood magic actually do that?"

"Maybe. It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn't really want to go through with it. If he had, I can't even imagine the person I would be now…I wouldn't like that Dorian."

"I wouldn't either…I like my Dorian just the way he is," Amariel said softly before she tried to catch his gaze. "Are you all right?"

"No, not really," Dorian admitted, finally meeting her gaze. "Thank you for brining me out there. It wasn't what I expected, but…it was something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display…"

He looked so sad in that moment it pulled at Amariel's heartstrings, and she tried to take a different turn on the conversation. "I think you led me on, actually."

Dorian looked stupefied for a moment before he caught on. "Ah, the flirting. You're a remarkable woman, Amariel—I mean that in the best way. In another life…" Dorian shook his head. "I meant no offense. I'll desist, if you prefer."

Amariel flashed a warm smile at him. "Desist?" she asked incredulously before she laid her head on his shoulder, switching to a more seductive voice. "Don't you dare."

She felt victory when Dorian laughed—and it wasn't forced. "I stand so instructed! Though, I don't know if Cullen would like an increase of the flirting, as I feel your newfound knowledge of me may bring."

Now Amariel was thrown by the switch of topic. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you play coy with me—there's no one else around, and I am the only person who knows, Amariel, the extent those feelings of yours go when it comes to the Commander. You're free to speak here—there's no one to overhear, no one to judge."

"I don't know what you want me to say," she said with a blush.

"Will you be bringing it anywhere? It's hard to miss the growing chemistry between the two of you—the letters, the time spent together whenever you get the chance, the conversations about anything—anything regarding the Inquisition so far as I'm aware, the wistful looks, touches that mean a little more, stolen glances, words with double meanings…you're both like the beginning of some sappy romance novel!" Dorian exclaimed, and Amariel groaned, burying her face in his shoulder. "Not that it's a bad thing—I find it adorable. Though honestly, do you plan on bringing it anywhere?"

"I…I don't know, Dorian. First of all, I'm not sure if he wants to go there, if he feels the same. Then there's the fact I'm the Inquisitor and he's my Commander…we're in the middle of a war…and I'm scared of losing him as it is," Amariel finished quietly.

"Ah…so Redcliffe is still haunting you."

"How can it not? I know it's been a while, and it was a future we're working to prevent…but it was real, Dorian, it happened, we lived through it…and sometimes…I can't shake the image. It terrifies me."

"Believe me, I know it bothers you—I've seen it," Dorian started. "But that shouldn't stop you from living now. It doesn't when you're with anyone else."

Amariel shook his head. "No, it doesn't…just…sometimes when it's mentioned, or when I look at him all I can think about is that stupid cell, and it hurts all over again. What if I let myself care for him, and I lose him?"

"Amariel, you're blind if you think you don't already care for him," Dorian chided her. "The only thing you're doing is keeping yourself from happiness—you shouldn't do that to yourself, even if we are in the middle of a war. It's not fair to you."

Amariel pulled her knees towards herself, folding her arms on top of her knees and resting her head against her arms, gazing over at him. "When did you get so…wise?"

Dorian gave her a dazzling smile. "When I had a friend who needed it. Just don't tell Varric, or he'll probably change my nickname to something other than Sparkles, and it probably won't be an improvement."

Amariel laughed softly. "I suppose not…thank you, Dorian. You're a good friend."

"Thank you."

"Except when you rat me out to Cullen."

Dorian laughed. "I did no such thing!"

"Sure, Dorian, whatever you say."


"Inquisitor! Welcome to the Western Approach," Scout Harding said as Amariel and Dorian arrived at the camp they were due to rendezvous with the others at. Amariel got off of her hart, giving it a reassuring pat on the neck and leading it over to the spring the camp was set up next to as Scout Harding launched into her report. Alistair, Hawke, Blackwall, and Cole all approached as Harding spoke, anticipating to set out as soon as Amariel and Dorian were briefed. "We've sighted Warden activity to the west, but no one's been close enough to tell what they're doing. Between the sandstorms and the vicious wildlife, we haven't made it far out here. One of my men got too close to a poison hot spring and gave me a slightly delirious report of a high dragon flying overhead. In short, this might just be the worst place in the entire world. Be careful out there."

"Well, it's good to know what I'm in for," Amariel told Harding with a smile.

"Sorry I don't have more for you," Harding said sincerely. "We intercepted a Venatori messenger and…persuaded him to give up the orders he was carrying. This entire place…something just doesn't feel right. Be careful."

Amariel nodded to dismiss the woman, turning back to the rest of the group. "Well, should we head out?"

"Already run into trouble, have you?" Alistair asked, tapping his cheek to indicate he was referring to the cut on her cheek. Amariel chuckled.

"Ah, yes, that would have been the assassins. Or wasit the Venatori? I can't remember. You should have seen the claw marks from the bear before Dorian healed them—the thing came out of nowhere. But I'm alert and ready for action now—we might want to start our search," Amariel said, starting forward on the path that led out of the camp.

"You act like that's as common as finding a leaf on a tree," Blackwall said with a sigh.

"With everything that happens to us, is that so surprising? It takes a dragon flying over our heads to surprise her," Dorian quipped.

"Oh? Speaking to the filthy common folk now, are we?"

"Sweet Maker, you're right! What was I thinking?" Dorian gasped as if he'd just committed some grievous scandal.

"This is going to be my whole day," Amariel sighed, Alistair walking just a step behind her on her left while Cole swiftly and quietly made his way to her other side. Hawke had taken to the rear, her bow drawn and ready for trouble. Amariel put her arm around the spirit boy. "How are you holding up, Cole?"

"Dorian is hurting, hiding…can I help him?" Cole asked her. Amariel hesitated, then shook her head.

"Dorian needs some space to cope right now, Cole, bringing it up will only make it hurt more," Amariel told him gently. "When it comes to family…people prefer that it's not brought up in front of other people," Amariel tried to explain.

"Oh…" Cole said innocently, then he turned to Alistair, which surprised Amariel. "Then, I'm sorry I tried to bring up the hurt earlier—I didn't know helping then would cause more hurting."

Alistair winced, shifting uncomfortably like he was suffering from a sudden growing pain. "Apology accepted. I get that you were just trying to be helpful."

Cole was silent for a few moments, then spoke to Alistair again. "I'm glad she helps you with the hurts. I'm sorry not being around her only adds to the hurt."

"I will when this is over…that's comfort enough for now."

Deciding to guide Cole to a different subject matter for once to give their companions some relief, Amariel decided to sate a curiosity she'd had for a while. "What about me, Cole? I'm curious to know what you read from me."

Cole was silent for a few moments, probably listening. "You're too bright. Like counting birds against the sun. The mark makes you more. But past it...the weight of all on you. All the hopes you carry, fears you fight. You are theirs. Then there's the hurt, kept closely guarded since Redcliffe. You keep it hidden, secret, so no one else feels that burden even though it gets heavier and heavier. Nightmares, pain, all of it in secret. Yet you're still so bright…" Cole looked at her, the intensity of his gaze surprising her. "It must be very hard. I hope I help."

The sincerity of his tone caused Amariel to melt slightly, and she smiled at him, squeezing him into a brief hug. "It does help to be around you Cole, thank you. I find your…innocence and eagerness to help refreshing."

Amariel's hand sparked to life, and she swiftly withdrew her arm from around Cole's shoulders, reaching for her daggers. Her sparking hand had instantly put her usual companions on guard, though the four reaching for their weapons was what caused Alistair to draw his sword and Hawke to tense in anticipation.

"There's a rift nearby," Amariel said for Alistair and Hawke's benefit.

Sure enough, up ahead and around a corner there was a rift in the air, one that even now spewed forth—to Amariel's disdain and possibly her comrades' as well—at least two rage demons and two or three lesser terrors.

"Great, just what I wanted," Amariel grumbled under her breath as she pulled out her dual blades, falling into a battle-ready stance.

Hawke wasted no time in emptying a few arrows into the lesser demons, just as Dorian was swift to slow the rage demons with some ice magic. Amariel rushed the lesser demons first, noting that Alistair fell into a more protective role, staying close enough to her he could shield her from danger if he needed to—a role he also seemed…comfortable with.

She'd have to ask him about it later.

Meanwhile, Cole and Blackwall charged the rage demons, working together to keep them off of Dorian. Blackwall fell into the usual protective charge he played for Amariel around Dorian, and Cole danced around the rage demons, at the side of one in one moment and then disappearing to reappear beside the other in the next.

While Alistair shielded her from a dangerous swipe of a lesser demon's clawed hand, Amariel slipped around to stand with her back pressed flush to his, where she caught the arm of a second lesser demon that had been sneaking up behind him, slicing off the arm with a well-practiced swipe of both blades. It reared back with a shriek, and Amariel took the chance to leap forward, digging her daggers deep into its chest and watching as it dissolved below her. Amariel pushed herself back to her feet, looking over her shoulder to see Alistair pulling his sword from the ground, a pile of smoking ash where a lesser demon had been. Cole and Blackwall had their hands full with one of the rage demons, Hawke was pumping arrows into a regular demon who had come through the rift—

"Fasta vass!"

While everyone had been dealing with their own demons, Dorian had apparently been faced with a rage demon alone. As Amariel looked his way, he was on the ground, a burn across his face while using the blade end of his staff to keep the burning creature at bay.

"You better not be dead, mage!" Blackwall shouted, though he was busy fighting the rage demon that had him stalwart with shield firmly between him and the creature, Cole working furiously to keep the rage demon from taking him out.

"Dorian!" Amariel shouted, breaking away from Alistiar and racing towards her fallen friend. The only thing keeping Dorian from being burned to a crisp by the rage demon was the staff Amariel had made for him with Harritt.

She crossed the distance swiftly, coming up behind the rage demon and leaping onto its back, embedding both blades into its upper back and keeping her feet above the molten lava that made up its lower body. The demon arched its back, roaring in fury as her blades slid slightly down its back from supporting all her body weight.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea, she found herself thinking, as now she was stuck on its back, left to trying to dig the blades deeper in to do more damage and kill it and trying to keep from falling into the lava of its lower body.

Over the demon's shoulder, Amariel saw Dorian put distance between himself and the demon, immediately getting to his feet with fire in his eyes.

"Amariel," he called, and Amariel needed no more direction. She got a firm grasp on her daggers, pulling them out of the demon's back the same moment she kicked off, flipping in the air to land on her feet a safe distance away. Dorian seemed to gather his power, wielding his staff with deadly efficiency as he twirled it high in the air, a wave of deadly ice flowing from the staff and engulfing the demon. It trudged forward, still trying to get to Dorian even as it slowly froze, Dorian avoiding the creature simply with a few steps backwards.

Once it had frozen solid, Amariel jumped forward once more to shove her blades through the frozen middle of the creature, watching the chunks fall to the ground. She looked around once more, watching as one of Cole's blades managed to get the demon through the heart and kill it, while the demon Hawke had been pumping arrows through finally fell by Alistair's blade. Amariel relaxed, turning to the rift and shoving her hand towards it, feeling the usual strange sensation of power gathering, wind wiping around her until it reached its climax, the point where Amariel knew that it would seal, and she jerked her hand away, the usual boom and pulse through the air signaling its end as the green tear in the air disappeared.

As soon as the danger was gone, Amariel was by Dorian's side. "Are you all right? How did that demon get the jump on you?" she asked in concern, sharp eyes studying the burn on his face even as Dorian absentmindedly healed it.

"I'd already killed one of the two demons—that one came out of the rift and snuck up on me," Dorian grumbled.

"Well…be careful. I don't know what I'd do without my favorite mage," Amariel said in an attempt to lighten the mood, though she made sure her eyes communicated that she was also serious.

"The Inquisition would crumble—I'm practically carrying your organization!" Dorian exclaimed with a wide grin, though the look in his eyes let Amariel know that yes, he understood she was also serious.

"The horror," Amariel joked, turning away and approaching Alistair, who had been studying her since their skirmish ended.

"So…that's how you do it, then? Fight a few demons, wave a sparkling hand, and poof—stitched up rift?" Alistair asked, apparently defaulting to humor to deal with the strange and unnatural.

"Pretty much. I can't tell you anything other than that myself, other than it works," Amariel said with a shrug. "You know, I can't help but notice that you fell into the role of protecting the crazy rogue rather quickly and easily…"

Alistair gave her a small smile. "I'm used to it—I have a similar role when I fight next to my wife—I must say, you and Aurora…are very alike," he mused.

Amariel flushed at what she took as a compliment. She reminded Alistair of the Hero of Ferelden?

"Thank you, Alistair. It's an honor to be fighting beside you and Hawke," Amariel told him sincerely. Alistair's smile grew slightly.

"Well, maybe when all this is over we can throw a Heroes of the World party, see how many of the people's legends we can get in one place." Effortlessly, Alistair wiped his blade clean and put it back in its sheath. "Shall we continue?"


They made their way across canyon and desert until the daylight hours disappeared and darkness began to fall, cooling the desert. Considering the warning Scout Harding had given them when they arrived, it was unanimously agreed that the group not travel at night and settle down for camp while there was still some light to get set up. Now they all sat around the fire, eating a stew with a meat Amariel had refused to share what it was—though Alistair overheard Amariel tell Hawke it was Fennec, and she didn't want the others knowing since Dorian and Cole adored the creatures—that actually didn't taste that bad.

It was far better than the meals Alistair had managed to scrape together while he was in Crestwood.

It was nice, the air of comradery that everyone had managed to settle into even though it was their first night all together. It probably helped that Amariel had decided to sit with Hawke and Alistiar while Cole, Dorian, and Blackwall went about conversation as normal.

Though most of it was awkward conversation with Cole or bickering.

"Cole, you should be careful dancing around with those daggers when I'm throwing fire," Dorian was chiding Cole as he put up his bowl.

"It won't hurt me—it's friendly fire!" Cole said innocently, enough so it gave Alistair a chill.

Only because he'd seen the young man kill a few demons without flinching not a few hours ago.

Dorian grimaced. "That doesn't always mean what you think it does…"

Amariel sighed. "Just another thing to explain…"

"If I may ask, where did you find this Cole?" Hawke asked Amariel quietly.

"He found us—when Corypheus brought the Red Templars to attack Haven, Cole tried to come and warn us. Unfortunately he arrived the same time Corypheus did, so it wasn't much of a warning…but he's been a valuable ally ever since. And I consider him a friend," Amariel said easily, watching Cole as he played with a mouse he'd recovered from one of the many caves they'd passed on their way here, the furry creature running along his fingers.

"And he's…"

"A spirit of compassion. They're rare enough as it is, and damn hard to twist into a demon if our Fade expert Solas is to be believed. But the fact that he's able to manifest as human—that he's not possessing anyone—is amazing. He's definitely unique."

Blackwall spoke to Dorian then, over on the other log.

"Corypheus. One of yours, isn't he?" Blackwall asked. Dorian was instantly annoyed, his biting return coming almost instantly and amusing Alistair.

"One of mine? Like a pet? Like a giant darkspawn hamster with aspirations of godhood?" Beside Alister, Amariel snorted. "'Dorian, why can't you look after your little friends? Corypheus peed on the carpet again!' In this analogy, the carpet is Haven," Dorian said acidly, Amariel trying and miserably failing to hide a laugh.

"Is he or is he not a Tevinter Magister?" Blackwall deadpanned. Dorian made one last jab.

"Meaning 'the source of everything bad and evil in the world'? They are the same, yes?" Dorian bit.

"Certainly feels that way at times," Blackwall muttered. Dorian fumed internally for several long minutes, obviously trying not to continue the argument and leave it where it was.

"You have something to say, mage?" Blackwall eventually huffed, unable to stand his steaming silence.

"If I had something to say, I'd say it," Dorian grit out.

"That's it? I'd expect more from a man who can't stop talking about how clever he is."

"And I'd expect no less from a brutish thug."

"Better that than a pompous brat."

"All right…" Amariel grunted as she leaned forward to put her bowl away. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: If we're going to fight at each other's side, we need to get along."

"Tell that to mister barely concealed envy issues!" Dorian complained.

"You two are such men," Amariel said slyly as if the matter had just been brought to question, eyebrow arched.

"Well, I'm a man," Blackwall said as he straightened up, shooting Dorian a nasty look.

"Best pound your chest so nobody doubts," Dorian scoffed.

"Boys," Amariel said sharply. "if you don't behave I'll put Cole in charge when I head to bed."

Blackwall grimaced. "Yes, ma'am."

Amariel sighed. "I'm sorry about…them," she told Hawke and Alistair. Alistair was smiling at her, amused by the scene.

"Oh, it's no problem at all, actually. It serves some entertainment. That would be me and Morrigan during the Blight," he admitted.

"You should have heard some of the arguments Fenris and Anders got into," Hawke added, though her smile faded slightly at the mention of Anders.

That was a subject best left alone…

"I'm sure you both have some interesting stories," Amariel noted.

"Yes, well…nothing no one hasn't already heard," Hawke returned.

"I beg to differ. Maker knows I've been finding out how much the truth can be warped as its passed on through other people." As she spoke, Amariel turned over her hand, gently tracing along the line of a faintly glowing green mark.

"Will you be participating in the story telling too, or will you be leaving Hawke and I to scramble for something interesting to say?" Alistair asked suspiciously. Amariel closed her hand, letting it drop away and giving him a smile.

"Oh, I'll join in, of course—and I'm sure the others will have plenty of comments. At least I know Dorian will."

"You know me so well," Dorian chuckled, coming closer to join their little group.

"Well then, what poor sod is going first?" Hawke asked, looking to Alistair. He quickly found that everyone else was now looking at him.

"What? Me? Why do I have to be first?" Alistair asked.

"I don't know, maybe because you have the stories from the farthest back, you have the stories from the Fifth Blight, which is arguably the most significant event out of all of us," Amariel suggested.

"I don't know, a hole in the sky that leads to the Fade is pretty significant," Dorian said leadingly.

"Well, I still say you go first," Hawke said, slapping Alistair on the back. He sighed.

"Fine, fine, I see how it is…"


They all traded stories for what felt like hours, back and forth with tales that seemed to only grow more absurd as time passed. Subconsciously they all avoided the grim and morbid stories they had, keeping those to themselves and focusing on the happy, the humorous, and the exciting. Eventually, they all started to break away for their rest, Amariel surprisingly being the first as she claimed exhaustion from the ride to the Western Approach and from the battle earlier. Alistair had agreed to take the watch after Hawke, and now found himself awake, sword implanted in the ground in front of him with one hand resting loosely on the hilt and his other arm resting on his knee, with Cole sitting on the ground beside him in comfortable silence. The boy simply played with his new mouse friend, feeding the creature cheese every now and then. Alistair had already asked why the young man was awake, and had promptly been informed that he didn't sleep and liked to listen to the others dream. As strange as the thought was, Alistair didn't press him on the subject.

They went quite some time without either of them talking, though eventually Cole broke that silence.

"Constantly playing, unending, torturous…I'm sorry you can't find peace from the music. But talking helps?"

Alistair nodded. "Talking or fighting. I can almost ignore it then."

"Can I ask questions, then? Talk, to help block out the music?"

Alistair hesitated, loath of the thought of what Cole would dig up. "It depends on what you want to talk about. Some pains are best left alone."

"It's not that they should be left alone. Some people just don't want to face them, are afraid to face them. I'm not here to cause more pain—I'm here to help, it's what I'm supposed to do," Cole explained.

"Well, in my case, some things are best left buried. I can forget about them that way, and I'd rather not be reminded."

"Cold, stomach clenching, fear, self-loathing…Maker, why this of all things? How could she ask me this? Black hair, another woman, another touch, it's all so wrong...but the fear of tomorrow, the pain at the thought of losing her…For her, I will, as much as I hate it."

Alistair winced, hand clenching around his sword hilt on instinct. "Like that," he muttered.

"It's the only reason why you're both alive. If you hadn't done it she would have died killing the archdemon. If you hadn't, you wouldn't have each other now."

"…I know."

"She doesn't think any less of you for it."

Alistair blinked, looking at Cole. "How could you know that? She's not even here."

"I can feel her through her bond with you. Faintly, distant, but still there. Twined together, irreversible—stronger together, inseparable. You're solid and real, what you have." Cole turned those unsettlingly knowledgeable but innocent eyes to meet Alistair's gaze. "She doesn't think any less of you. She hated asking you to, but she couldn't bear the thought of living without you or forcing you to live without her. You have each other, and that's what matters."

Alistair looked away, choosing to cast his gaze to the moon while he processed that. "Thank you, Cole," he eventually managed to say, his voice quiet. The boy seemed to brighten.

"I'm glad I could help."

"Yeah, well, let's just not do this around the others—I'm not too keen on sharing my issues with everyone here," Alistair replied.

Cole was silent, though Alistair assumed he'd understood, casting his gaze back to the world beyond their camp. After a few minutes of their silence, Cole spoke again, voice quieter.

"A blood-tainted helm with a lion's face, dripping liquid crimson, broken promise, broken heart, broken, lifeless body…the glow of red lyrium, dark, dripping cells, a last breath sealing forever the unspoken, gone, dead, never coming back, a hole of yawning nothing, numb but agonizing, Maker, please…"

Alistair stared at Cole, deeply disturbed. Whatever that was, it wasn't from him.

Cole's head tilted towards Alistair, his head bowed low enough he couldn't see if the youth was actually looking at him beneath the brim of his hat. "She's hurting again…will you help her? I'm not quite sure what to do with this one…"

Alistair's brow furrowed, and he looked up to scan the occupants of the camp. As his eyes fell on Amariel, he noted how she tossed occasionally in distress, her hand clenching the blanket desperately. Alistair rose to his feet.

"Can you keep watch while I'm gone, Cole?" he asked, leaving his sword implanted in the ground. Cole nodded, so Alistair quietly made his way back into the camp, trying not to disturb anyone else as he made his way to Amariel's side.

Now that he was closer, Alistair could see that she was coated in a fine sheet of sweat, features twisting in pain or distress, knuckles white as she clenched at her blanket, and her hand was sparking faintly as if the mark was reacting to whatever intense emotions she was experiencing. Crouching down beside her, Alistair laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to shake her awake.

"Amariel," he said just loud enough to rouse her but quiet enough he wouldn't disturb the others. It didn't work the first time, as he distress continued and she remained asleep. "Amariel," he tried again, shaking her a little harder and making his tone a little firmer.

Amariel gasped awake, the sudden movement startling Alistair just enough that he leaned back as her wild, tortured gaze searched her surroundings with a disoriented glaze. Eventually, her eyes found him, and he watched as reality slowly settled back over her. She groaned, laying back down on the ground and covering her face with her arm as Alistair pulled his hand away.

"Do you get them often?" Alistair asked after a few moments.

"What?" she asked, the word muffled by her arm.

"The bad dreams—do you get them often?"

She was silent for a few heartbeats, long enough Alistair started to think she wouldn't answer, before she did grace him with a response.

"Not...all the time...but enough that it's not new."

Alistair nodded slowly, getting to his feet. "I think I have something that can help," he said quietly. Amariel peeked up at him curiously and, after seeing that he was standing and waiting for her, got to her feet and followed him to where they had all of their supplies gathered. He picked up a clean bowl and a water skin, gesturing to the rest of the supplies. "You don't happen to have any Embrium, Crystal Grace, and Dawn Lotus, do you?"

"Um…yes, actually," Amariel murmured, pulling out a bag amidst the collection they had and rifling through until she found the requested herbs. Alistair took them from her, making his way to the fire to start heating up the water he'd poured into the bowl while he started on the herbs.

"Wardens tend to get nasty dreams, especially during a Blight," Alistair explained while he worked. "Aurora learned this from someone in our little party during the Blight—Morrigan, I'd wager. I never really trusted Morrigan, but she could help when she wanted to. This certainly helps with the dreams, and so far I haven't experienced any negative effects, and neither has Aurora."

"Oh…well, thank you, Alistair," Amariel said softly, watching him for a few moments. To fill the silence, Alistair nodded to her hand, which had been clenched since she'd woken up.

"Does it hurt?"

Amariel glanced down at her clenched fist, though she didn't relax. "Sometimes…usually when it spreads or if its agitated."

"Spreads?"

Amariel sighed, glancing around as if to make sure no one could hear them before dropping her voice to a whisper Alistair could barely hear. "I don't remember how I got this mark—or anything that happened at the Conclave—but apparently the first few days after while I was unconscious, the mark was spreading, and the more it spread the more it, well…it was killing me. When I stabilized the breach, it stopped spreading, for the most part. Every now and then…it spreads a little more, and considering my condition before the breach was stabilized I've concluded the more it spreads, the less time I have."

"It's killing you?" Alistair asked in surprise, suddenly seeing the woman before him in a new light. He took her silence as a yes, concern furrowing his brow. "Do the others know?"

"Not many do...Solas knows since he was the one who treated me while I was unconscious, Cassandra, I'd be disappointed if Leliana didn't know...I'm not sure if Cullen and Josephine know, I'm assuming all of my advisors know. Dorian might have some theories, Cole definitely knows...beyond that, I don't know—I don't think they know."

"And...you're okay with that? With what it's doing to you?"

Amariel shrugged. "I'm...coming to terms with it. It's not like I can do anything about it—Solas already tried to fix it while I was unconscious in those first few days. And I guess I can hold onto some hope that maybe when the rifts and breaches are all closed and everything's back to the way it should be, my mark will stop spreading entirely."

"For your sake, I hope that's not too much of a stretch."

"Thank you."

They continued to sit in silence until Alistair finished, handing the bowl with his concoction over to Amariel. "It doesn't smell or taste pleasant at all, but it works," he warned.

"Oh, I believe you," Amariel said with a small smile before she downed as much of it as she could at once. She made a face of disgust, puckering and holding still for a few moments before it finished going down and she relaxed. "Uhg…not the worst I've ever had but…definitely unpleasant."

Alistair laughed. "It seems remedies are destined to be unpleasant if they work—I guess if you want to spit it back out that's a great indication it's good for you."

Amariel chuckled. "That's one way to look at it." She set the bowl aside, sighing softly and staring into the fire, a flurry of thoughts seeming to dance in her eyes. Alistair let her stew for a while, feeling like she was going to come up with something to say herself soon. "How did you and your wife end up together during a time like the Blight? What was it like?"

"Well that wasn't a question I was expecting," Alistair stated, shifting to a more comfortable position with one leg pulled toward him with an arm resting on his knee while the other leg was stretched out towards the fire.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I realize I'm being nosy—perhaps sometimes I'm just a little too curious," Amariel said hastily, backing off from the subject like she'd offended him. Alistair waved a dismissive hand.

"No, it's fine—I'm perfectly content talking about my wife," Alistair assured her, a warm, content smile falling across his face as he began to think of his wife with her fair skin, deep blue eyes, and long golden hair. "Aurora Tabris…neither of us were expecting it, that's for sure. Though there was no denying from the beginning she was gorgeous—and very witty, that's always been something I appreciate in people. I met her just before the battle at Ostagar, right before she went through the Joining for the Wardens. I'm glad she survived. Looking back, I don't know what I would have done without her. Perhaps part of the reason we were close was because of what we both went through together at Ostagar, but after every battle as the days went by…we fell for each other a little at a time. It was terrifying as much as it was perfect, since we didn't know what day would be our last…but it was worth it, for us; every moment. If I had the chance to change anything, I wouldn't…I'd do it all again if it meant keeping her with me."

"The way you talk about her I'm surprised you two aren't still together—where is she in all of this?" she asked gently.

"Oh, there was a discussion, believe me. She left before any of this began. A mission of her own, something…personal," Alistair said with a sigh, gaze fixed on the flames before him as his voice grew quiet. This subject was close to home for him, especially right now. "We Wardens don't live that long. The Calling I spoke of, the real one—before it went crazy—eventually it…kills us. The thing is, when we killed the archdemon…we discovered that may not be as set in stone as we thought. She's searching for a way to end the curse. For us both. Maybe for us all. On the other hand, someone had to look into the rumors about Corypheus. We didn't know what was involved at the time. She was going to stay to help, but we had a lead that couldn't wait. One of us had to go. And when I'm done here, we'll be together again…forever, this time."

"It sounds like you've been happy with her since the Blight," Amariel said with a smile, catching his gaze. Alistair nodded, returning the smile.

"Happier than I ever dreamed possible. She's more than I deserve. And I hope I make her days…easier, as well. She was rebuilding the Wardens in Ferelden while I hunted darkspawn leftover from the Blight. It was hard work for both of us, but we always had each other."

"You're both lucky to have each other."

"You have no idea how true that statement is. I've cherished every day I've had with her, and I'm not about to take advantage of the time we've been given," Alistair said softly. He looked over at Amariel when she didn't immediately answer, noting that she appeared to be lost in thought.

"You look quite pensive over there—do you mind sharing with the rest of the class?" Alistair eventually asked. Amariel blinked back to reality, then gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Alistair, I got lost in thought…but I did hear what you said. I was just…thinking about what you said, that's all."

"I'm glad I was able to stimulate your train of thought, though I don't think that will help you get your rest if you're more awake now."

Amariel chuckled. "I'm sure I can fall asleep just fine, Alistair."

"Just checking—we have a long day ahead of us, so you probably should head back to bed. We're not too far from the tower, we're at least close enough we should get there sometime tomorrow. Unless we get lost or something, of course."

"Please, don't jinx us," Amariel pled as she rose to her feet.

"I see my reputation has caught up to me—I'm the bearer of bad news and jinxes," Alistair said with a smirk. Amariel rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you in the morning, Alistair."

"Good night, Amariel—and I hope you sleep better this time," Alistair said graciously, turning to resume his post.

"Alistair," Amariel called, gaining his attention once more. She blushed slightly, looking down. "Ah…thank you…for the remedy and talking to me…I needed it."

"It was my pleasure, My Lady. Get some sleep," Alistair told her gently. Amariel gave him a warm smile before complying, and Alistair returned to his spot, resting a hand upon his sword once more. Cole was still sitting on the ground, and now that Alistair had returned he resumed playing with his newfound mouse friend.

"Comforting, bright, his words inspiring, warming. Some peace amid chaos and pain. Someone relatable, someone who understands, a friend, perhaps a closer friend, in time. I hope so…" Cole looked up at Alistair. "She likes you. You helped her feel safe and cared for, like Cullen and Dorian. Thank you, for helping her."

Alistair heaved a sigh, though he did feel touched to hear Amariel was warming up to him so. "Thank you, Cole, though I do think Amariel would like some privacy about what's going on in her head."

Cole nodded. "You're right. She'll dream good dreams about him now—they should stay hers, to help when no one else can."

Despite the fact he was uncomfortable with how freely Cole shared what was in other people's minds, he couldn't help but wonder if the him Amariel was thinking so much of was her Commander.


Just as Alistair had predicted, the next day was extremely long. The sands seemed to stretch on before Amariel, and they came across many spiders, wild hounds, quillbacks…at one point, Blackwall shouted out a warning of a dragon, and though Amariel could hear it—it's roar announced it was close enough to make her eardrums hurt—she didn't see it, causing the next half hour of their trip to be made with extreme caution. They met a dragon researcher who was the owner of all the random bits of research they kept finding on the bandits that kept attacking them—and Amariel was curious enough she decided to keep her eyes open for the supplies he needed to further his research. They closed four more rifts, and discovered far more bandit and Venatori camps than Amariel cared to come across in her entire life, let alone all in one area. They discovered a logging and quarry site, a rebel mage hideout, and set up two more Inquisition camps—though that was done more so Amariel and the others could get some rest than to get a stronger hold for the Inquisition.

For Andraste's sake, they even took the Griffon Wing Keep when they passed it, deciding not to leave it under Venatori control. She didn't even bother to tell anyone not to tell Cullen about their exerting adventures—she knew it'd get back to him anyway by now.

Though she did find an enchanted amulet on the Venatori overseer she thought might be of use, and pocketed it for later amidst a comment from Alistair that Amariel found useful things in the strangest of places just like Aurora.

By the time they finally—finally—reached the ritual tower they'd been looking for in the first place, Amariel was tired, grouchy, and covered in blood from so many sources in so many places she was pretty sure she'd have to get new armor.

As soon as they came close to the building, Hawke and Alistair broke away from the group to scout the building while the rest of them waiting for their report upon their return. For a while, they were only accompanied by silence and the whistle of sand billowing through the air and against more sand. Finally, Alistair and Hawke returned.

"We saw lights coming from the tower," Alistair said firmly, his expression grim.

"It has to be blood magic. We have to stop them before more people are hurt. You take point. I'll guard your backs," Hawke added, bow firmly in hand. Amariel looked to Alistair, who nodded and took up position beside her as they approached the tower. Eventually, they could hear voices floating towards them.

"…This is wrong!" came someone's frightened voice, distantly even though they'd cried it out.

"Remember your oath: In war, victory, in peace, vigilance, in death…sacrifice," came a new, snobbish sounding voice.

There was a flash of light, and Amariel could hear the roars of a rage demon. Beside her, Amariel saw Alistair's jaw and fist clench, probably in reaction to hearing the Warden's oath abused to justify whatever dark magic was going on at the base of the old tower.

"Good. Now bind it, just as I showed you," that same voice repeated, louder now that they were closer. They crested the stairs to the platform at the base of the tower where the main even was happening in time to see a Warden mage taking his place among several other mages who stood calmly beside demons. On the ground before the rift that hovered in the air like some warped centerpiece was a fresh body of some poor Grey Warden—the sacrifice for whatever had just happened, Amariel would wager.

As they approached, the man standing on a dais before all the other wardens spoke, dressed in fine clothes somewhat similar to what Dorian would wear and with an aura that dripped if regal villainy to Amariel—it also wasn't the first time she'd met a Tevinter playing on the side of evil.

"Inquisitor—what an unexpected pleasure," the man said, affirming that his was the voice she'd heard moments ago directing the dark proceedings. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."

"I'm guessing you're not a Warden," Alistair said in a rather snarky tone of voice. Amariel had been picking up hints that he had sharp wit in him, though she hadn't really seen him use it until now—she was actually glad to see it. It meant she wasn't the only one who would use humor to break the tension, other than Dorian, of course.

"But you are," Livius stated, heaving a sigh as he started to pace, eyeing Alistair. "The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?"

Amariel's eyes sharpened, and she looked around to the mages, who were passively watching the proceedings as if nothing in the world mattered to them. Not a good sign, but she still had to try. "Wardens, this man is lying to you! He serves an ancient Tevinter Magister who wants to unleash a Blight."

"That's a very serious accusation. Let's see what the Wardens think," Livius said in amusement, turning to the mages. "Wardens, hands up! Hands down."

Amariel watched in dread while as soon as Livius gave a command, the Wardens complied obediently and in mindless unison.

"Corypheus has enslaved them," Alistair said through grit teeth, eyes steely and dangerous as he glared at Livius.

"They did this to themselves," Livius chided them. "You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked everywhere for help."

"Including Tevinter," Alistair filled in bitterly.

"Yes, and since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan…" Livius said, eyes sparkling with sadistic glee underneath his refined theatrics and composure. "Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

Amariel relaxed slightly—that was the first good news she'd had all day—in a roundabout way. "Ah, I was wondering when the demon army was going to show up," she mused as if he'd just told her the desert contained sand. She turned to Dorian. "Dorian, don't forget to pay up once this is all taken care of—I won that bet."

Dorian grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a Tevinter curse, and it seemed she'd thrown Alistair off with how casually she'd taken what was probably a bombshell for him. Meanwhile, Amariel had in fact been wondering when Corypheus would try to raise the demon army she'd heard of and partially seen in Redcliffe.

Livius was also shocked by her casual reaction to what he had apparently thought had been news that would terrify her. "You knew about it, did you?" he tripped out before he got ahold of himself again, trying to act like it had been part of the plan. "Well then, here you are! Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

Amariel and Alistair shared a look, and Amariel could see the storm of concern that was rapidly growing in Alistair's eyes.

"So Corypheus influenced the Wardens and made them do this ritual," Amariel stated, stalling for time and fishing for information as she saw a glint out of the corner of her eye from Hawke's armor as the woman got into position.

Livius laughed loudly. "Made them? No! Everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were very afraid. You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. Burdens of command I suppose."

"Why would the Wardens try to kill the Old Gods?" Amariel asked, folding her arms over her chest and shifting her weight to her right. Discreetly, Blackwall and Dorian switched places, looking like they were simply pacing and observing what was happening instead of getting into position with Blackwall on her right flank and Dorian right behind her.

"A Blight happens when darkspawn find an Old God and corrupt it into an archdemon. If someone fought through the Deep Roads and killed the Old Gods before they could be corrupted—poof! No more Blights, ever. The Wardens sacrifice their lives and save the world. Although I fear history will remember them a little differently now."

"Why would Clarel risk using demons?" Amariel said with a shake of her head, putting her hands on her hips. Cole moved to shadow Alistair, who seemed to realize she was giving silent signals with her seemingly normal mannerisms. She saw Alistair's hand twitch instinctively towards his sword, but he did not draw the weapon.

"Demons need no food, no rest, no healing. Once bound they will never retreat, never question orders. They are the perfect army to fight through the Deep Roads. Or across Orlais, now that they are bound to my master."

"Do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight? What do you get out of this?" Amariel asked accusingly, eyes narrowed as she took a step forward and jabbed a finger at him.

"The Elder One commands the Blight. He is not commanded by it like the mindless darkspawn. The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool."

"No, Livius, you're the tool," Dorian said in a flat tone.

"As for me; while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be the God-Kings here in the world."

Amariel actually laughed at that one, startling a few people with the bitter and dark sound. She was having Redcliffe flashbacks to some degree, and it was only souring her mood even more. "And you think he'll actually give any of you some degree of power in reward for helping him? That he won't keep it to himself as he tears the world apart? I think you just invented a new level of stupidity, Livius. Now…Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won't ask twice."

"No. You won't," Livius sneered. He stepped forward, outreaching a hand while Amariel braced herself for some kind of magical attack, hoping Dorian would shield her before it hit, or at least Alistair or Blackwall.

No jet of magical energy shot towards her, however. Instead, his hand began to spark red as Corypheus' had at Haven, and Amariel's hand suddenly flared in intense pain. She cried out, grasping at her forearm as she doubled over, hand sparking wildly of green.

"Amariel!" she heard both Dorian and Alistair exclaim in deep concern with some notes of fear, though it was Alistair's hand she felt on her shoulder. She bit down on her lip, trying not to scream as the pain started to intensify.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to intervene again," Livius sneered, and Amariel sank to her knees, a few gasps of pain getting past her defenses as it started to spark more, the pain increasing. Now she felt both of Alistair's hands on her shoulders, felt his deep concern, and knew that because of their discussion last night he knew there was more than just some pain through a magical attack going on here. If the mark was spreading, it was killing her a little more right now.

She didn't look to see if it was in fact spreading. She was too busy trying not to scream or shout and give Livius any verbally satisfying reaction.

"That mark you bear? The anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade."

At Livius' snarky voice, and feeling Alistair's strong and comforting grip on her shoulders, plus knowing Dorian was right behind her with equal measures of concern, Amariel drew strength from them—and from some thoughts of Cullen—in order to endure. She grit her teeth, biting down a little harder on her lip as she drew herself up to her feet slowly, allowing the magic Livius was using to drag her hand forward, getting a feel for the magic in his hand like she would get a feel for the rifts.

"When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be—" Livius suddenly cut off with a shout of pain as Amariel yanked her hand back like she did with rifts, watching as he was sent flying backwards, looking at her in sudden fear. Now that she was apparently all right, fiery, dangerous determination glinting in her eyes, her companions regrouped around her, Alistair close to her left side, Blackwall at her right, Dorian right behind her, and Cole shadowing Alistair, smug smiles on all their faces as Livius limped to his feet.

"Kill them!" he shrieked, and all the Wardens focused on them, as did the demons, while the rift in the center of the room flared to life.

Joy.

Without any hesitation—and needed to kill something now, despite how tired she was—Amariel unsheathed her blades, lunging at the first demon that came at her that wasn't a rage demon to take care of, hoping that the only ones she'd have to take care of were the demons.

She didn't know if she could bring herself to kill the enslaved Wardens, especially knowing Alistair and Blackwall. Then again, she'd already been forced to kill enslaved Templars, despite knowing Cullen.

With Alistair and Hawke at their side, all six of them made quick work of the meager force gathered at the tower—they had claimed a keep not that long ago by themselves—what was the ruins of a ritual tower housing a few possessed Wardens and demons? Still, despite how quickly they all weaved through the forces they were faced with, Livius managed to get away in the chaos, meaning that they had a goose chase ahead of them.

Just what they needed after hearing that Livius was trying to raise the demon army.

Once the last man fell, Hawke ran up to them, and they all gathered in a circle to discuss what had just happened.

"They refused to listen to reason," Hawke said sadly.

"You were right—thanks to the ritual, the Warden mages are enslaved to Corypheus," Alistair said with a shake of his head, a tortured light flickering in his eyes at being forced to kill fellow Wardens not in their right minds.

"And the Warden warriors?" Hawke stated, then looked down as realization fell over her. "Of course. Sacrificed in the ritual…what a waste."

"Erimond lied to the Wardens. They were trying to prevent future Blights," Amariel said with a shake of her head. She saw Alistair shoot her a grateful look for standing up for the Wardens still, despite all they'd just heard and seen, though she had to focus on Hawke as the woman spoke next.

"With blood magic and human sacrifice?" Hawke asked sharply, eyes narrowing. Alistair was quick to defend his brothers in arms.

"Hawke, they made a mistake, but they thought it was necessary," Alistair said sternly.

"All blood mages do. Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions…and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions," Hawke said firmly, folding her arms over her chest and daring him with her gaze to question her logic.

Alistair sighed and turned back to Amariel, choosing not to argue with her further but also looking world weary. "I may know where the Wardens are. Erimond fled that way…There's an abandoned Warden fortress in that direction. Adamant."

"Good thinking. We can send a bird and have spies there in no time figuring out if there's any activity down there."

"I was going to say we could scout the fortress, but if you already have people nearby…" Hawke stated. Amariel smiled.

"Knowing Leliana, probably."