Note: Two year timeskip ahoy! Also this gets kinda depressing, just to warn you...

Yara sat in the rear courtyard of Vigil's Keep, staring at the sky. The last days of summer were falling behind, and the evening sunlight danced off her shoulders. She was perched on a lone bench, overlooking a small garden. It was rare to have a moment to herself these days, so she was going to savour it. As she watched the clouds drift by, she smiled, enjoying the scent of the flowers. It seemed like only yesterday when she and Bethany had arrived to a decrepit Templar-filled fortress. Now, two years later, Vigil's Keep was fully restored, the envy of every outpost in Ferelden, and very much cemented as Yara's permanent home.

A breeze ruffled her hair, and Yara closed her eyes. Her time at the keep might've passed quickly, but it had certainly not been quiet. Even without their missions to monitor darkspawn activity, Alistair always seemed to have his hands full. There had been another challenge from the new Templar-Lieutenant—dismissed easily enough—and then a rogue apostate had infiltrated the ranks, trying to incite rebellion. Yara and Bethany had worked tirelessly to put that down, and that had earned them both promotions. Following that, a senior Warden from Orlais had visited without announcement, looking to usurp Alistair, but he was no match, and he departed with his tail between his legs.

Yet despite overcoming such troubles, Yara was not satisfied. Her missing memories remained out of reach, and that was enough to dispel all her other successes. Her attempts to contact the Antivan Crows had been met with silence, and she hadn't returned to the Deep Roads since they had sealed the silverite mine, either. Even Bethany had tried everything she could think of to help; Fade memory techniques, sleeping spells, hypnosis, even dream potions. But even Yara's visions had fallen away to almost nothing, and that scared her. It seemed the further she moved ahead, the more her past fell behind, and the harder it was to remember. One day, perhaps those pieces would disappear forever, and she would never get them back.

Yet part of her wondered if that was really such a bad thing. For in the face of these countless setbacks, Yara's desire to seek out her former life had dwindled considerably. After all, what good would it bring her? She was settled with the Wardens, performing her duties and using her skills for the benefit of the kingdom. She had a roof over her head and food on her plate, she'd formed wonderful friendships, and had risen to every challenge thrown at her.

Perhaps she was a fool to keep chasing after shadows…

"Ah, there you are, Yara."

Yara looked up. Alistair had entered the garden. He picked his way through the flower beds, smiling, although when he reached her it swiftly faded.

"I have some news," he began. "You know Duke's not been well recently? Well, the kennel master's given me his report." He hesitated. "He…doesn't think he'll last the day."

Yara's eyes widened. She'd grown very attached to the mabari, despite their short time together. He'd always bark a greeting, or lick her hand and pine for a belly rub. And while she knew the hound had already lived longer than expected, it still broke her heart to know he wouldn't be around any longer.

"I thought you might like to see him," Alistair went on, his eyes downcast. "Before…well…"

"Yes, I would." Yara stood up. "Thanks for thinking of me, Alistair."

Alistair nodded, then led the way to the lower grounds. They crossed the narrow paths, acknowledging fellow Wardens along the way, before stopping at the kennels. The kennel master bowed, unlocking the first kennel. It was thick with the scent of damp hay. Duke lay inside. He was curled up with his head on his forepaws, his breathing slow. Yara felt a lump rise in her throat. His fur had turned grey and lacklustre, and his eyes had lost their sparkle.

Both she and Alistair approached the mabari. Yara stroked his muzzle, and Duke let out a soft whine. He nuzzled her hand, recognising the scent.

"It's okay boy," Yara soothed, rubbing his cheek. Duke grumbled, settling again. Alistair knelt beside him, his hand on the mabari's back.

"You've done your masters proud, Duke," he murmured. "Both me and Elissa." His voice softened. "You'll get to see her very soon."

Yara frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd learnt the Hero of Ferelden's name, but the way Alistair said it…she shook her head. It was nothing; another thread that would lead no-where.

They remained by Duke's side for a long while. Finally, as the sun dipped towards the horizon, Duke's head slumped forward. The movements of his ribs ceased, and his heart beat no more. Yara's eyes prickled, and she held a hand to her face. She'd not thought his loss would affected her so deeply. But he'd been so affectionate and loyal; he would always hold a soft spot in her heart.

"It's always hard to say goodbye." Alistair ran his fingers through Duke's fur, which was still warm. He let out a deep sigh. "He was a good hound, but he was more than that. He was my last link to her." He turned away, and Yara swore she caught something glisten on his cheek. "I guess…I hoped he would always be around, to remind me." He swallowed. "At least they're together now."

Yara could only nod. She sat with Duke for a moment, slowly regaining control of herself. At last she gave Duke's body a parting embrace, then rose to her feet. Although it hurt to lose the mabari, she also felt as if a chapter of her life had closed. Nothing truly lasted forever, and it was better to cherish the present than lament over what had been lost.

"Sometimes it's good to remember the past," Yara said, "but it shouldn't rule you."

Despite himself, Alistair chuckled.

"Wise words, Yara," he said. "I'll keep them to heart."

Nodding, Yara left the kennels, wondering if she was as convinced by her own advice.

Bethany sighed, for perhaps the twentieth time that afternoon. Yara frowned, as their cart jolted across the uneven road. The mage had been unusually quiet, but as much as Yara pried, she refused to say what was bothering her. It was a few weeks since Duke's passing, and the two were heading to Highever, along with Nathaniel and Ranalle, to check reports about darkspawn sightings on the coast. Yara had welcomed the chance to keep busy, but for some reason Bethany had withdrawn into herself. Since morning she'd refused to make eye contact, and had mumbled her way through conversation. Most odd was that she'd been fine the previous day, barely able to contain her excitement about leaving town for a change.

The cart hit another rut, and Yara winced. She almost would've preferred riding, but Alistair hadn't the mounts to spare, and Bethany was definitely not in the right mood. The mage looked out of the window, arms folded, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders. Yara watched her none too discretely. She knew the mage could feel her gaze, yet Bethany continued to ignore her. Another sigh escaped her, and Yara clenched her fist.

"Alright, enough's enough," she demanded. "Please tell me what's wrong, Beth. You've been moping all day. This isn't like you."

Bethany remained silent, but for a brief moment her eyes met Yara's.

"Look, I understand if it's personal," Yara said. "But you look so down. If there's anything I can do to help…"

Before she could finish, Bethany abruptly reached for her pack. She unfastened the flaps, then produced a parchment. She threw it into Yara's lap without a word. Yara raised a brow, and held the paper to the light. It was a letter, its seal unbroken. Her eyes fell to the signature, and she gasped.

A. Hawke.

"It's from your sister?" Yara asked.

"Yes." Bethany's voice was quiet. She was starting at the floor.

"Well, that's good, right?" Yara turned the letter over. It sported several crest marks; it seemed to have travelled across most of the Free Marches and even Orlais before landing at Amaranthine. The courier had certainly had a job to deliver it to the right person. "Why haven't you opened it?"

Bethany rested her head in her hands.

"I…I don't know," she admitted. "I just…it's been so long, and I never wrote to her to say how I've been. Not even to say I survived. Or that I was sorry."

"It's never too late to start." Yara tapped the parchment. "See the crest marks? Amber went to a lot of trouble to see that you got this."

"But after the things I said to her…"

"It's been more than two years, Beth," Yara cut her off. "If Amber's taken the effort to reach out to you, you should at least see what she has to say."

She offered the letter back. Bethany took it, and gave a slow nod. She brushed back her hair.

"I'm being such an idiot about this." She ran her finger over the seal. "I'll open it in Highever." She managed a smile. "Thanks, Yara."

"You always have to make things more difficult than they need to be," Yara said, leaning back in her seat. "I mean, I still can't believe Nathaniel let you buy all three of those staffs."

"Are you still going on about that?" Bethany scoffed. "I use them all, and they're suited for different conditions!" She sneered at Yara's swords. "At least I upgrade my equipment when offered. Your blades are looking rustier by the day."

"They function perfectly fine," Yara answered.

"Ha, I bet they can't even cut carrots now!"

"Well, if a certain mage could control her spending habits, maybe there'd be some funds left for the rest of us…"

And so their banter continued, Bethany's darker mood all but forgotten. It was in higher spirits then that they entered Highever town. Yara had only visited in passing, both when she left with the Bronze Blades and when she returned as a Warden, so this would be the first time she'd be staying the night. Although slightly smaller than Amranthine, it was no less as bustling, even for the late evening. The sea air was stronger, too, and Yara licked her lips. It was a scent she still adored, although it no longer provoked deeper feelings like it used to. Not many things did, these days.

Their cart rolled to a stop. Yara stepped forward, opening the door, and the two jumped back to the dirt ground. Nathaniel remained in the driver's seat, while Ranalle descended from his side.

"Seems we've made good time," she said. "We should stock up as best we can and enjoy the hospitality of the inn. It may be some time before we have a proper roof over our heads again."

"Ah, the joys of being a Warden out in the field," Nathaniel quipped. "I'll get us some rooms."

"I will find us some decent maps," Ranalle said. "Creator knows the ones Alistair gave me are out of date."

"I suppose it never hurts to have spare lyrium," Bethany shrugged. "Shall we, Yara?"

"You know me, I'm always up for a bit of shopping," Yara smirked. "Maybe I'll get to buy a sword this time."

"Oh by Andraste's…" Bethany rolled her eyes and grabbed Yara's arm. "Come on."

Soft creaking broke Yara from sleep, and she opened a bleary eye. It was still dark outside, and pale moonlight painted shadows across the floorboards. Grumbling, she rolled aside, her forearm covering her eyes. For some reason it had taken her a long while to drift off, and she was irked to have woken after only a few hours. Sighing, she let her arm drop, and her gaze fell to Bethany's bed.

It was empty.

Bemused, Yara sat up, studying the disturbed sheets. She could only have gone out recently. Then she realised Bethany's staff, pack and boots were also gone. Amber's letter remained on the bedside, its seal broken.

Eyes wide, Yara shot out of bed. She padded across the floor, lighting the bedside candle, then picked up the letter. A tiny voice in her head told her to stop, that it was not for her eyes, but she wrestled it down. Bethany wasn't one to go for late walks, and there was no reason why she'd need to take all her belongings. The letter was her only clue.

Steeling herself, Yara began to read.

"Dearest Bethany,

First, I hope when this reaches you, you are doing well. Anders managed to get in touch with Stroud, who told me the good news. I'm so relieved you managed to survive, but I miss you dearly, and wish so much we could still be together. I meant to write you sooner, but things have been…hectic. Our expedition went well, and I managed to buy back the Amell estate. But there's been lots of tension with the mages and Templars and a spike in blood mages, so perhaps it was fortunate you got out when you did. I hope Yara's kept you good company and that she's doing alright as well.

Yet now I must come to the crux of this letter, and I'm hesitating. I've written and re-written this over a hundred times, and still I don't know the best way to tell you. So I've let Varric do the honours.

The handwriting changed slightly.

Hey Sunshine, Varric here. This is difficult for Hawke, so I'm just going to outright say it. We have some bad news. I'm really sorry, but your dear mother is no longer with us. She was the victim of a cruel blood mage's plot, and we were too late to save her. Hawke was with Leandra in her final moments, though, and with her last breath she spoke highly of both of you. She was beyond proud that you'd found a place with the Grey Wardens, and that Amber had reclaimed the Amell estate and restored her family name. It was a tragic affair from start to finish, but know that Amber gave the man responsible the justice he deserved, so Leandra's spirit can rest in peace.

The handwriting changed again, the style a little shakier.

I didn't want to have to write such awful tidings, Beth. I'm sorry. I miss her more than anything, as I still miss Carver since the day we lost him. You're all the family I have left now, and I hope one day we'll meet again. Know that I think of you often, and carry you in my heart, always.

Your beloved sister,

Amber"

Yara dropped the letter, her heart starting to pound. Maker…she had to find Bethany right away!

She shoved on her boots and leggings, before grabbing a cloak and leaving the room. At this hour the inn was almost empty, save for a few snoring patrons. Not caring for quietness, Yara bolted down the stairs and out into the streets. It was a clear night, the stars perfectly reflected in the calm waters of the harbour. Yara glanced around, frantic. No-one was around, and she swore. Where would Bethany have gone?

A bell sounded from the docks; a ship was coming into port. Yara's eyes widened. No, she wouldn't…

She ran towards the quay, guided by the flickering torchlight. The jetties were almost completely full, the ships bobbing in the waves. The ship coming in was headed to the east side, where a couple of dock workers stood, guiding it in. She strode over, looking between the crates and barrels, when she finally saw Bethany.

The mage was waiting at the end of the docks, her eyes intent on the incoming ship. The breeze teased her hair, the moonlight highlighting her set jaw.

"Beth!" Yara jogged over, stopping by her side. Bethany took one look at her, and her eyes narrowed.

"I didn't want you to come here," the mage said, tightening her grip on her pack.

"Just what in the Maker's name are you doing?!" Yara exclaimed. "You can't be thinking of…"

"I'm going back to Kirkwall," Bethany cut her off, confirming Yara's fear.

"Beth, just wait a second! You can't walk out like this!" Yara protested. "We're Wardens, we have a duty…"

"To hell with duty!" Bethany snapped. Her hand quivered. "Mother's…Mother's dead, and I never…not even once…" Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. "Amber's all alone now. She needs me. And I won't let you stop me from reaching her."

Yara sighed. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped in front of Bethany. The mage frowned, making to push her aside, but Yara held firm. She grasped Bethany's wrists.

"I'm doing this for your own good," Yara said. "I can't begin to imagine what you're feeling right now, but running away to Kirkwall isn't the answer."

"What would you know?!" Bethany screeched, shaking her off. "You have no idea what it's like to lose someone you love!"

Yara bit her lip. The mage's words cut deeper than she knew.

"That's not true," she said softly, "but going back to Amber won't bring your mother back. Alistair won't stand for it, either. Do you think he'll turn a blind eye and let you live peacefully with your sister?" She looked the mage straight in the eye. "Do you want to end up like Anders?"

"Shut up!" Bethany's eyes flared. "This has nothing to do with you!" She raised her hand, a spark of fire about to form. Yara remained still, though her pulse raced.

"Of course it has everything to do with me," Yara answered. "I know you're hurting, and I want to help you."

"Don't!" The mage snarled, her arm trembling. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. "I don't…you can't…"

"Please Beth, think about this for a second," Yara went on. "I know you miss your sister. I know how important your family is to you, but Amber wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger for her sake. She wouldn't want you to throw away all you've achieved." She sighed. "And I don't want you to leave, either. Aren't we your family, too? Don't we mean something?"

Her words seemed to finally reach Bethany. The flames vanished from her fingers, and her shoulders slumped. Her pack dropped to the ground, and she sank onto a crate, head bowed. Her shoulders trembled, and her tears fell freely.

"Why?" she whispered, holding her face. "Why did this have to happen?"

The last of her resolve melted, and she broke down sobbing. Yara was there in an instant. She wrapped her arm around the mage, and Bethany threw herself into her embrace. One of the dock workers shot them an odd look, but Yara ignored him. She stroked Bethany's back, her own feelings stirred. Even without a memory to attach it too, she recognised this pain. The anger and sadness it provoked, the helplessness and guilt it left behind; each emotion warring with one another for dominance, tearing everything apart. And there was no remedy for this storm—it simply had to be waited out.

"I'm sorry, Beth," Yara murmured, hating how pathetic her words sounded. "I'm so, so sorry."

They remained together for a long while. Yara watched the waters, listening as Bethany's breathing slowly matched the calm. Eventually the mage withdrew, wiping her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy, swollen with grief.

"You shouldn't have to see me like this," Bethany said, looking away.

"It's okay," Yara said.

"I've been such a fool." Bethany turned to the newly docked ship, her gaze growing distant. "I never told you about Carver, did I?"

Yara shook her head. Bethany sighed. For a moment she was quiet, lost in her thoughts.

"He was my twin brother," she said at last. "He…died, as we were fleeing Lothering during the Blight." She winced, the memory still painful. "It…it hurt so much. I'd done nothing but shout at him the entire journey, and then an ogre took him away forever." She closed her eyes, allowing more tears to escape. "I could've saved him, made a distraction so he could get away…but I…" She couldn't continue, and bit back her sob. Yara held her shoulder, waiting for her to recover.

"I…I swore I'd not let the same thing happen again," Bethany went on. "I promised I'd always tell my family I loved them, no matter what, and do whatever it took to protect them. And then, because of a poor choice of words, I became afraid." She buried her head in her knees. "I was too ashamed to even write Mother, and now I'll never get the chance. Not even…to say goodbye…"

Her voice cracked again, and Yara pulled the mage against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Yara said. "I know it's hard to stop thinking about all the what ifs, but…" She clasped Bethany's hand. "Take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."

Bethany nodded.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I…was just so angry, I…"

"I said it was okay, didn't I?" Yara said.

Bethany let out a breath.

"You've always been here for me, and I was ready to throw that away for nothing," she said. "I won't let that happen again." She tensed her grip around Yara's fingers. "I won't betray the Wardens who saved my life, and I won't betray you, either. I promise."