The Inquisitor's Ghost

Chapter 11 – Envy

My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours

For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one

- Chanter Devons by the Lothering Chanter's Board

The Inquisitor and her companions immediately set out for Therinfal Redoubt. The great fortress formerly served as a training facility for the Seekers of Truth, but was abandoned due to lack of finances, until recently when it became inhabited by the templars. According to Cole, Corypheus' was influencing the templars there. They needed to stop it.

For most of the trip the October air was chilly and crisp, with a vast blue sky overhead as they rode their horses west through the valley, across dew-covered meadows glinting with sunshine, while all around them stood rugged hills, studded with stands of post oak and evergreen cedar brakes.

They set up camp at night where they would pitch tents and sit around a fire enjoying the dinner that Solas or Leliana made. They would laugh and talk animatedly about a fight that had occurred that day or tell jokes, stories, or rehash past battles.

Ember would always slip away and sleep by herself a few yards away from the others. She never slept in a tent. She always laid on her back on the soft green grass, hands behind her fiery red head, staring up at the endless expanse of stars that dotted the night sky.

Cole had come with them, but he stood apart from the rest. Among her companions he was an island of alienation. He didn't speak much and when he did it was typically only with Ember. He'd told her it was strange being with people who could see him. He'd wished for it for so long, and yet now he could feel their eyes upon him even when they weren't looking his way. It made his skin crawl. Each time he spoke and they responded, it made him jump, so he tried to speak as little as possible. Even among a group of people who could see him, he still felt like an outsider. He wondered if maybe it was supposed to be that way, that maybe it was part of his curse. Ember told him that some people just weren't meant to belong, and that she was one of them. If she didn't belong and he didn't belong, then at least they wouldn't belong together. He'd liked that. The smile he'd given her still lingered in her mind.

The few times Cole did speak to the others was when he could sense the hurt in one of them. He would explain what it was he felt and then ask them questions to try and understand so that he could mend it. Her companions did not like talking with him at first, but Cole slowly started to win over a few of them.

Bull, who in the beginning had not trusted Cole enough even to speak one word to him, was now teaching the young man about cussing, drinking, fighting, and women while Varric seemed to have adopted him. A friendship had already formed between Cole and Solas, and even Cassandra, Leliana, and Dorian were surprisingly civil to him. Ember believed the others would come around in time.

As they neared the end of their three day long trek from Skyhold to Therinfal Redoubt, they all dismounted their horses and walked through the fog-covered hills and pine-filled valleys that surrounded the fortress. Ember walked beside her pure white, Imperial Warmblood that Cole had named Tadwinks, which had led to Sera shouting at him that the name was hers and he wasn't allowed to use it.

Moments later, Cullen pulled his horse up beside Ember. He leaned into her and whispered, "It's watching you intently again, studying you. It's odd and unsettling. Why does it watch you like that?"

Ember's eyebrows drew together. "Like what?"

"Like… prey."

Ember discreetly looked at Cole over her shoulder. He was looking at her as though he were a starving wolf and she was his next meal.

She knew what he was. Killer. Murderer. Demon. But the knowledge of what he was didn't keep her from noticing the fact that Cole was beautiful. Not to mention how those depthless blue eyes never seemed to look at anything but her, and when they did they didn't stray long. But his physical appeal didn't blind her to the fact that he was also incredibly dangerous. Fear still twisted in the pit of her stomach, along with something else she didn't want to acknowledge.

Ember quickly looked away and began ascending a steep hill when all of a sudden she tripped on a patch of slick ground. She fell backward, her horse's reins falling from her hand, and landed on her back. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she could hear Sera laughing at her.

"Did you just fall, Inky?"

Ember's lips curled over, creating a frown. "No," she grumbled as she picked herself up. "I saw a demon and so I-"

"Fell?" Sera answered, laughing even harder.

"Shut it," she replied as she tried to get the dirt and grass off of her clothes.

Some distance behind the Inquisitor, Bull drew up alongside Cole and asked, "So… Cole… you have a real body, don't you?"

Cole's chin tucked and his eyes became hidden beneath the wide brim of his hat, but his head nodded and he murmured, "Yes."

"A human body? A male body?"

"Yes."

"So… what do you plan to do with it?" Bull asked with a smirk.

"Help."

Bull's smirk deepened. "I know what I'd do if I suddenly became a complete man. I'd-"

"You should not encourage that thing," Vivienne chastised.

Cole blinked at her. "The Iron Bull is not a thing."

"HA!" Bull barked out a loud laugh. "Well said, Cole."

"You're afraid," Cole said to Vivienne. "You don't have to be."

Vivienne made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "My dear Inquisitor, please restrain your pet demon. I do not want it addressing me."

Blue-green eyes rolled. Ember blew a red curl out of her face as she grumbled, "He's not doing any harm, Vivienne."

"It's a demon, darling. All it can do is harm."

"Hey Viv! Vivvy! Look at this! I've got something for you!" Sera laughed.

Vivienne sighed. "Darling, it's your bottom. Again. As bony and sad as it was the last dozen times you've displayed it."

"It's my butt!"

"Maker, however shall I endure this horror. Someone fetch me a fainting couch."

Once they reached Therinfal Redoubt they each donned their armor and weapons. Ember pulled out her twin daggers and turned them lovingly over in her hands before kissing each and strapping them to her back.

Varric watched her and scratched his cheek as he muttered to Cole, "She always does that before a fight. It's weird."

Cole's eyes tracked Ember's every move as she finished arming herself. "One is her sorrow and one is her memories, both solid and strong but sharp and scarred, like her. Scar on her side, I was too slow, but they were furious in their retribution, blood for blood. Faded burns on her neck and scars on her back, old pain from those that should have protected her. She uses her memories and her sorrow to make sure it never happens again. Her little smiles when she takes them in her hands, kissing each one for good luck. I'm envious of both each time she does it."

Varric stared at Cole, bewildered. "Well… shit."

Cole's cheeks pinkened beneath his hat and Varric smiled knowingly.

"So… content to pine in silence, gazing at the dear Inquisitor from afar?"

Cole said nothing as he bent to brush some dirt off his pants, his hat hiding his eyes, but Varric could see that the pink in his cheeks had darkened.

"I could help, you know," Varric offered with a nudge of his elbow. "Nothing stirs the heart like a well-written word."

Cole looked pointedly down at the dwarf. "Bianca is a very pretty name."

Varric's wicked grin faltered. "I'll tell her you said so, Kid."

"She can't actually hear you, can she?"

"Of course she can," Varric replied, patting his crossbow.

Cole's head tilted, eyes questioning. "Do the others know the story?"

Varric's smile vanished immediately. "No, and I'd appreciate it if you kept it that way, Kid."

Cole frowned. "It's a sad story."

Varric looked away. "Most stories based on real life are."

"It had a happy beginning though."

A tiny, bittersweet smile formed on Varric's face. "Yeah. It did."

"Do you regret it?" Cole asked quietly.

Amber eyes met ice blue. "Never."

Cole's gaze shifted to Ember's back. "I think I understand."

Varric followed Cole's gaze and nodded. "I think you do, Kid."

After a long pause Cole asked, "Should I change my hat? Do you think she'll like that?"

"Nah, if she's busy staring at your hat, she's ignoring all your other flaws."

Cole's lips quirked slightly in one corner. "Like a silk shirt with three buttons left undone."

Varric chuckled. "If you did that you'd probably make her faint, Kid. I've seen the way she looks at you."

"She looks at him like he's a friggin' scarecrow 'cause that's wha' he is," Sera muttered as she walked passed them. "You're both nutters."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tell me what you think. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you see." A howling voice echoed around her.

"You're hurting, helpless, hasty." Came Cole's voice in response.

There was a loud screech. "What are you? Get out! This is my place!"

Ember blinked her eyes open. "Cole?"

"Yes. I am here."

"Where are we?" Ember asked as she looked around the room she now found herself in. It was strange. It kind of looked like the dungeons of the White Spire, but there was furniture here, and rooms. Trees were growing in the corners of some of the rooms. Some of the furniture was on the ceiling or the walls. Paintings were upside down. Really strange.

"We're inside you," Cole said directly behind her. She swung around, and found him right in front of her, but his feet were on the ceiling and he was hanging upside down in front of her, his hat not falling off. "Or I am inside you. You're always inside you."

Oh. My Maker. Did he just say he was inside me?

Cole didn't notice the way her entire face had flamed to a bright red and continued casually, "Envy hurt you, is hurting you. I tried to help. Then I was here, in the hearing. It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing. But I'm here, hearing, helping. I hope."

She released an unsteady breath as she murmured, "The least I can ask is that things make sense in my own head."

Cole chuckled softly, a husky, friendly sound that made a responsive smile tug at her mouth. "It never works like that."

"So, what's going on?"

"An envy demon is wearing the Lord Seeker's face. It was the one that twisted the templar commanders, forced their fury, their fight."

"What does it want?"

"It wants to be you. You're frozen. Envy is trying to take your face. Mirrors on mirrors on mirrors. A face it can feel but not take. I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here."

"How do we get out?"

Cole suddenly appeared on the bed in the room, sitting on the headboard, his feet rumpling the sheets. "It's your head. I hoped you'd know how to stop it."

She frowned. "Well… I don't."

The ghost of a smile curled his lips beneath the brim of his hat. "At least I'm inside you."

Ember groaned, dropping her head into her hands, her thick heavy mass of wildly springy curls bouncing around her shoulders with the movement. "Will you please stop saying that?"

"Do you not want me inside you?"

She groaned into her hands, her face on fire. She truly thought she'd die of mortification. "Maker, Cole. Please just tell me something that can help us get out of my head."

"Okay. All of this is Envy. People, places, power. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more. Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, more and more, and Envy breaks down. You break out."

Her head lifted, her face still the same shade as her hair. "So… if we keep moving in my 'head,' we tire Envy into submission?"

Cole shrugged. "Yes. No. Maybe. I hope it helps. It's more than sitting here waiting to lose your face. You need to keep your face. I like your face. It's my favorite face."

She laughed, but it came out nervous and shaky. "Yes. Face off is bad."

They left the room and walked out into the hallway.

"Get out, thing!" Envy screamed.

Cole remained calm as he spoke to her, "You're too strong for it. Too bright. It can't replicate starlight."

Envy screeched in rage. "Shut up! Thing!"

Cole's lips pulled up the slightest bit in one corner. "It's frightened of you."

Her chin lifted with defiance, her eyes flashing forked lightnings of fury. "It should be. No one takes my face," she growled low in her throat. "You hear me, demon! I'm going to find you and when I do, I'm going to beat you so hard candy comes out!"

"You don't frighten me! That thing can't help you!" Envy bellowed, furious. "You can't stop me! I am learning!"

An image of Ember in chains and being interrogated by Cassandra appeared in front of them and the memory of first seeing the Anchor on her hand for the first time played right before their eyes. When it was done, they moved to the next room and she asked, "What was that?"

"A memory. Your memory. It's learning. It wants to be you."

Envy screeched. "I need more! Wait… this one is powerful. This one has been tampered with!"

Ember noticed the way Cole's body visibly tensed beside her, but before she could ask him what was wrong, an image of a solitary farmhouse located in the middle of nowhere rippled to life in front of them and everything inside of her solidified to stone. It was all she could do not to recoil as if slapped at the image of her parents' farm, something she never wanted to see ever again.

"What… what is this?" Her throat was so tight the words came out like a croak.

Cole looked at her with empathy. "It is a dark memory, soaked in blood and pain."

It was sad how that description alone wasn't specific enough for her to know which memory this was. But as soon as the side of the house was in view, she knew what memory this was. It was a long-lost memory of when she was eight-years-old. It was a memory she didn't want to remember, but was forced to watch as it played out in front of her eyes.

"There you are," her father slurred heavily, the stink of alcohol on his breath as he looked down at her young crouched figure that was up until then hidden behind a large bush outside of their house, the night helping conceal her.

"Please, Daddy. Please. I'll be good. I promise. Please," young Ember begged, silently wishing she had hid behind the oak tree on the other side of the house.

He grabbed her thin, little arm forcefully.

"No. Please, Daddy. Please, please, please…"

Her father's open palm swung at her, but the alcohol made him slow. She quickly ducked and struck out at his unprotected middle with all her strength. He bent forward, an arm wrapped protectively around his middle. Before she could run she felt the hard force of his knuckles slam against her face and she fell to the grass, a little heap of bony legs and arms, oversized clothes, and a long heavy mass of deep crimson curls. Her lower-lip split on contact, and the entire left side of her small face immediately begin to swell and bruise.

"Evil little witch!" Her father spat down at her before grabbing her thin arm and hauling her to her small feet. "You know you deserve this."

Her free hand came up and hit him hard across the throat. His hand fell from her arm to hold his throat as he choked.

She turned and started to run when he shoved her little back from behind. The child fell hard onto her stomach the air rushing out of her lungs once her chest hit the hard ground. He grabbed her tiny ankle and began to drag her towards the barn, the one she hadn't burned down with only her hands.

"No! Someone help me! Please! Someone help me!" Her little eight-year-old self screamed into the night as her fingernails clawed into the earth. She saw her mother looking out the window of the house, watching. "Mommy! Please help me! Mommy!" Her mother closed the curtain. Ember yelled and thrashed about trying to get loose. She turned onto her side and kicked her father with her free leg in the back of his knee.

He lost his grip on her ankle and she scrambled to her feet and began to run, but her relief was short lived as a hand swiftly seized the collar of her tunic from behind and dragged her backwards. Her cry was choked against the cheap rough fabric that was digging into her neck as her father wrenched her back against him. His arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her off her feet. She slammed the back of my head into his nose and he swore loudly before flinging her to the ground.

Ember landed on all fours, barely having time to recuperate before her father reached down and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her up onto her scraped knees. She clawed at his arm to get away, drawing blood. Hissing, he took a handful of her hair and started dragging her behind him towards the barn again, random rocks cutting into her back, her scalp on fire.

Once they entered the barn, her father hit her hard across the jaw with an open palm. The force of the hit flew her back across the ground in the dark barn. After a few moments of being dazed she slowly moved to her knees spitting out blood into the dirt. She had spent most of the night trying to dodge him, but her wits had not been enough, and now her speed and strength weren't enough either. She had not eaten or had anything to drink since three nights ago. She wasn't big enough. She wasn't tough enough. She wasn't cunning enough. She wasn't fast enough. She wasn't strong enough. She was too weak to save herself, and she loathed it.

Her father marched up to her and kicked her square in the face sending her flying onto her back with her knees bent under her painfully.

"Get up, you abomination!" His voice resonated in the barn and pierced her ears as if it were poison. She fell to her side with a groan, her body drenched in a cold sweat. With her cheek resting in the dirt, she instinctively searched the dark barn but was unable to locate her abuser in the darkness. But within seconds she heard faint footsteps getting closer and she found herself trembling, partly in fear and partly in rage.

"Well, didn't you hear me? Get up!" Her father shrieked as he glared down at her with so much hate and revulsion.

Wincing, she gradually sat up and staggered to her feet, her swollen face covered in blood, bruises, and dirt. Once standing, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared her father in the eyes, her gaze ferocious and resilient, terrifying on the face of someone so young, the fire of her hair only adding to her fierceness.

Her father approached her. He bent down and caught her by the chin and bent to her eye level so that they could gaze into each other's eyes, one pair in hateful contempt and the other in sadistic disgust.

"You deserve this, you know you do," he said before letting go of her chin.

Her father's lips curled into a dangerous smile that made her shudder, for she knew exactly what was to come. He grabbed her long red curls and dragged her to the all to familiar metal hook that was hanging from a chain attached to the roof of the barn. He grabbed both of her little wrists in his hand and tied a metal chain around them. He lifted her tied hands over her head and attached the metal hook hanging from the ceiling to the chains around her wrists.

Her father went to the chains by the wall and pulled on them until she was lifted off of her feet, hanging by the hook with her arms over her head. She dug her little chin into her chest and breathed deeply as the cool night air whipped across her face. She knew what was coming.

Don't scream. Don't cry. Don't break. Her mind repeated those three words over and over again. Don't scream. Don't cry. Don't break.

In preparation, she closed her eyes and drew in slow regular breaths before letting her eyes slowly open to stare up at the stars she could see through the hole in the roof as she waited for what was to come.

"I am going to beat the demon out of you, mage, or turn you over to the templars," she heard her father say behind her and the sound of squeaking leather from the whip she knew was in his hands.

"Why are you doing this, Daddy? Please. I'm your daughter. I can't help that I'm-"

"I have no daughter."

Ember shut her eyes, gritted her teeth, and clenched her body as she listened to her father raise his arm and bring the whip down on her small back. With a crack, searing hot and horrendous pain flashed through her along with the sickening sound of cloth and flesh being torn. Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream as pain exploded behind her eyes. The one slash burned against the cold barn atmosphere from her shoulder to her hip as zaps of agony continued to flash through her.

Before she could recover, her father brought down another lash. It was deep and sent raw, searing, agonizing pain pulsing through her. This one was horizontal, from one side to the other. She felt all of it, from beginning to end. She burned with anger, hate, and desperation at the same time.

After two more lashes, she was breathing hard and couldn't hold her head up. The cuts were not deep enough to be deadly, but the lashes had broken the skin and she was bleeding freely from them. She heard her father's voice, but her brain could not focus beyond the agony blazing her nerve endings.

Pain again, the sickening sound of the air splitting as the whip descended. She gritted her teeth against the need to scream and cry, her body wrecked with agony as blood dripped down her back, soaking her tunic and pants.

Moments later, she felt herself being lowered back to the earth. The moment her feet touched the ground she crumbled to it in a heap. Her father threw the whip aside and faced her directly, looking down at her in repulsion and repugnance. She glared up at him, loathing him, not afraid to let him see the hate she felt for him. Magic licked her skin, the power beckoning, begging her to use it on him, but she didn't know how to summon it.

"The demon remains." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the barn and into the blackness of the night. Her father returned minutes later with a small band of men that wore metal armor that bore the symbol of a flaming sword.

Templars.

"Take the little bitch and her foul magic," her father spat as he turned his back on her and walked back to the house, glad to be rid of her.

"You know nothing of magic," little Ember muttered under her breath as she watched him happily leave her to a fate some would say was crueler than death.

The templar heard, however, and gave her a hard slap across the face before grabbing her roughly by the throat. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. You will learn that well, little mageling," the templar taunted, smirking and the hatred she had for him and those like him only elevated.

"I – serve - no one," she managed to cough out with a spittle of blood just as the templar painfully tightened his grip on her throat.

No one would ever rule over her. No one.

She wheezed under the pressure, almost positive that he was going to crush her windpipe. Her head felt like it was exploding, and she knew all the blood was being cut off from her brain. She felt cold and hot at the same time, and hoped it would be over soon. And it was, because the templar quickly let go and she fell to her knees clutching her throat. She immediately proceeded in coughing and taking in deep breathes, her head throbbing until she felt her vision and heartbeats regain normality.

"Now," the templar spoke down to her. "You will learn your place and how mages are to behave or else you'll be made tranquil. Do you know what tranquil means?"

Ember let go of her throat and stared up at him defiantly from her knees as he stood over her, wild red curls flowing all around her.

"Put the little mageling in the cage, boys," the templar ordered and two other templars grabbed her by her arms and carried her to a horse drawn wagon. They opened the door to a small cage meant for animals and shoved her in and slammed the door closed. She heard the bolt slide into place. The templars got on their horses and the one driving the wagon cracked his whip and the horses moved forward.

In the cage that smelled of blood, vomit, and piss, little Ember lay on her side with one hand pressed against her stomach and the other outstretched in front of her, her palm facing upward. Her face was swollen and covered in blood, the delicate bones broken, one eye completely swollen shut. The pain, it pulsed and breathed like a living thing, like a heartbeat completely separate from her own. It seemed like the pain would never end and was only going to get worse.

She was captured. Caged. Her will would soon be broken by the templars. Her spirit would be nothing but dust after everything she'd done to keep it. Her eyes were dull and lifeless as they lifted to stare up at the stars through the metal bars as the wagon carried her to her new hell. She wasn't waiting to be rescued or asking for help.

At eight-years-old, Ember was praying for death.

Suddenly, the air in front of her shifted. Energy swelled and bloomed in front of her. She could sense the Fade, powerful and frightening and wonderful all at once.

It was a spirit.

She didn't know how she knew, she just knew. And though her eyes saw nothing in front of her and her ears heard nothing around her, she could sense that there was a spirit right in front of her and it was holding her hand.

Her parents had beaten her, starved her, tortured her, burned a brand into the back of her neck and never once did she cry. But the moment that spirit held her hand, tears filled her eyes. At its touch she felt a warmth spread outwards from the very center of her being, infusing her body with comfort, a sense of safety, and love. It was like being held close, cradled… a bond forming, one she was unable to extricate herself, nor did she wish to. How any person could not be brought to tears by the touch of such a benevolent being was beyond her.

Run.

That one word echoed in her mind, as if someone else planted it there. It was only then that she noticed the door to her cage was open, though she had no idea when that had happened or how it was possible.

Run.

That one small word served as a rooting point for her addled brain, anchoring her violently back into reality. Her body instantly grabbed hold of hope and used it to prop herself up by pressing her bloody palms onto the cage floor. With trembling arms, she crawled forward through the cage door. The overall weakness of her body made itself known with each muscle screaming in pain and in protest at her slow but determined movements. Once she reached the edge, she jumped off the back of the wagon, the templars oblivious to her disappearance.

Once she was on her feet, she ran. She ran as fast as she could, refusing to let her many injuries slow her down. The spirit guided her by whispering single words in her mind - left, right, run, stop. It helped her find food, water, healing potions, and a change of clothes. It guided her all the way from the countryside of Orlais to a small wooden cabin located just outside of Lothering. When a pretty young woman with short, choppy black hair and brilliant blue eyes spotted her and ran to help her, the spirit whispered one last word into her eight-year-old mind.

Forget.

The memory rippled in front of the Inquisitor before beginning to fade. Ember was staring forward, unmoving, unspeaking. Several moments passed and she didn't look anywhere but at the spot where the memory had played before her eyes.

Silence.

Deadly silence.

As the memory faded to nothing, a vulnerable moment surfaced in its wake. Ember found herself fighting the rawness of the emotions it stirred within her. The room, or her mind rather, was closing in on her, the past a wicked gloved hand wrapped around her throat, making breathing and thinking nearly impossible. She stood completely still, her chest rising and falling swiftly, her shoulders heaving as a wave of sorrow and anger washed over her as her hellish past hit her in the gut like a dragon tail.

Helpless. That's what she'd been. And she couldn't bear the idea of being that way again.

The hated and horrific memory was still pounding at her brain, a memory she'd spent fifteen years denying shredding her into pieces she was having trouble holding together. She was on the edge of the present and the past, loss and pain and confusion eating away at her.

"Ember," she heard Cole say gently beside her, but she didn't respond. She wasn't sure she was even breathing.

"Ember," Cole said again and her gaze snapped to the side at the sharp command in his voice.

"What are you feeling?" Cole asked urgently, his features carved with concern. "I listen - listen listened listening - I hear no song. Silence. Only silence. I sense nothing of your pain. I hate it. I need to know what you feel."

Ember looked back at the spot where the memory had played, her eyebrows bunching together as suspicion gnawed at her brain.

She didn't remember it like that.

She didn't remember a spirit being there the night she escaped her parents and the templars.

"Let's keep going," she answered thickly. "I want to get out of my head."

They moved silently to the next room. There they watched another tampered memory. It was when Malcolm Hawke and Ember had gone to Redcliffe and Teagan Guerrin had betrayed Malcolm to the templars. The spirit had been there to, helping her escape.

They moved to the next room and the next memory was when she escaped the ship being taken by Captain Isabela. The spirit had been there too. The next memory was when Fenris had his hand inside of her chest and was about to kill her. The spirit had been there too, helping her. Each time the last word the spirit said to her was forget.

The last memory slowly faded to nothing. Beside her there was a soft sound and awareness rushed over her, reminding her Cole was here. Ember looked down, only then realizing that she was gripping Cole's hand with hers. She gave him a long glance, blue-green eyes watery and wavering. "It… it was you."

Light blue eyes shifted to hers, watching her. He said nothing. He didn't have to. The truth was right there in his eyes.

"You were the brightest thing I'd ever seen. Glittering. Glaring. Glinting." His words were rough, vehement. "I had to protect you."

Her brain stuttered. "I just can't… how… Maker, it was you… it's… it's always been you." She shook her head, her eyes bleak with unshed tears, unable to believe Cole had been watching over her, protecting her since she was eight-years-old. "Have you known all along?"

He shook his head, blonde hair swaying in front of his eyes. "I made myself forget when I made myself real. When I remembered what I was, I remembered everything before." His eyes pierced hers. "I remembered you."

"You… you saved me." She drew in breath, but couldn't catch it. "Why… why would you do that? If you wanted to possess me, you would have done it then. I would have let you. You know that. But you didn't. Instead, you made me forget you. You just wanted to help me… protect me?"

"That's all I've ever wanted." He was in her space then, leaning into her. His chin tucked and his eyes clashed with hers. "They hurt you. Betrayed you. The ones you trusted most."

"Yes." Her voice caught, snagged on a tear, and faded to nothing.

Cole leaned down into her and planted his face inches from hers, eyes fixed and unblinking. "That's not me," Cole husked, those eyes seeming to bore into her with their intensity. "Trust in me, dear heart."

Her eyes fell away from his, sliding to the side, her chin turning away with them. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, halting the retreat. Her eyes clenched shut, chin wobbling in his fingers. There was a stupid burning sensation in her eyes that she really didn't want to become tears. She hated crying, hadn't done so in years. It was a weakness she couldn't afford having. She sucked in a breath, fighting the icy knot in her chest. Somehow Cole had crawled under her defenses and reached an emotional spot she'd never wanted anyone to touch. Ever.

One tear dewed on her eyelashes before slipping through the dense black lashes to fall unwillingly from the corner of her eye. The single tear rolled slowly over the corner of her eye, over her cheekbone, the hollow beneath, lower still until a pair of dry lips pressed over it on her jawline. She felt the tip of his tongue lightly brush her skin as he licked the teardrop, taking that piece of her into his mouth, into himself.

When she felt him pull back she turned her chin and opened her eyes into his. She swallowed before stepping into him. Both hands lifted, her fingers running lightly down his face. She instantly felt a strange warmth travel along her hands from where her fingertips touched him. It chased through her and finally settled in her chest, burning there, stirring feelings that she'd long refused to acknowledge existed.

Cole's body snapped taut at her touch, brow furrowed, his eyes shifting back and forth almost frantically between hers. "W-What are y-you…?"

When her fingers reached his chin, they went back up his jawline, over his cheekbones, his temples. Her fingers slid through his shaggy honeyed hair, the thick silken locks soft between her fingers as she smoothed his hair and hat back from his face to peer deep into his eyes.

"I'm looking," she replied a little breathlessly as she stared deep into those haunted depths.

Cole took her heart-shaped face in his two hands, taut fingers splayed wide against her cheeks, his calloused palms rough against her flushed skin. His warm breath blew against her face, ragged and quick. His eyes were large and wild as they delved desperately into the depths of her soul. Ember stared up at him and watched his eyes intently search hers.

After several moments of shallow breaths, Cole exhaled a heavy breath that sounded soul deep, "You see me." There was relief in the depths of his eyes, as if he'd been hanging off a ledge and she'd just lowered him a rope.

The air shifted between them, and she could almost feel the bonds between them weaving tighter as she nodded slowly. "You are not a monster, and you never will be." She held his gaze with unwavering confidence, wanting him to feel the honesty in her words.

His eyebrows drew apart and he let out a quick rush of air as if he'd been holding it in for five years, waiting for those exact words. Before she could think of a response, his hands left her face to rest on the small of her back. He pulled her in carefully, slowly, giving her every opportunity to run before pressing her fully against him. When she offered no resistance, he released a low, raw sound before she was engulfed, enfolded by his lean arms. Effortlessly, his compassion and comfort seeped into every crack others had made in her heart, sealing it.

Ember turned her head to the side and let her cheek rest against his collarbone, her palms pressed against the learn muscle of his chest. "This," she whispered on an unsteady breath as her arms pulled away from his chest to slide around him, fitting in the dip of his back. "This is what I need."

Cole let a sigh leave him and relaxed against her. His shoulders sagged and he turned his head and tucked his face into her hair. "So much noise all the time – pain wrapped in hurt wrapped in pain. It resonates in my ears, bleeding them. Whispers crawling inside my head." She heard him breathe in the scent of her hair and hold his breath, as if he didn't want to let it out, wanted to keep her inside of him. "This is the only place that gives me any peace."

"Why do you think that is?" she whispered.

His hands shifted against her back, and it took all of her willpower not to shudder as his fingertips ran up her spine in a gentle caress as his breath rustled her hair around her ear, "I don't know."

It was then that Ember knew the torch she held for Cole would burn indelibly. There was no denying that she was woven into his life and he into hers. She felt Cole in ways she'd never felt another— and never wanted to.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and the truth slipped out. "I never forgot you, Cole. I wouldn't let myself." She held him to her as she let her forehead press against the side of his throat, nestling closer to him, breathing him. "All these years you… you were never alone. You were always with me."

The arms around her clenched tighter, clutched at her, holding her tightly, his arms gripping her almost painfully. She could feel him trembling.

"Cole… when we get out of here… I… I think you should stay at Skyhold." Her fingers were rigid and digging into the muscles of his back to hold him closer to her, needing to be closer. "They will not understand. They will be afraid. But I believe you truly want to help. I believe you won't hurt anyone, won't hurt me or possess me. And I… I…" Her exhaled breath rustled his hair as she turned her face into his chest. "I want you to stay," she confessed, her forehead resting on his collarbone. "Don't go, Cole." Her fingers splayed against his back. "Please, stay with me."

Cole exhaled a shuttering breath before pressing his lips to the top of her head and then resting his chin there, breathing in his favorite scent, his eyes wet and shimmering and not so shadowed as he replied softly, "Wherever there is you, there will be me too."

Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Wherever You Will Go by Charlene Soraia (originally performed by The Calling).