"You altered his nature."

"I did nothing of the sort," Ashrielle defended her choice. "Cole is more human now, he has a chance to grow, to be more."

Solas's hands balled into fists as he tried to control his temper. "He is a spirit of compassion, do you even understand how rare that is?" He scoffed. "Of course not."

She bristled at his condescending tone. "He had enough self to become just like the original Cole. He held on so tightly to something in this world as to become it. Becoming more human, he's protected from being controlled- which is the end result we wanted."

"And at what cost?" Solas turned his back on her, flipping through papers on his desk. "He can never be as he was. You robbed the world of pure compassion." He shook his head. "Dirthara-ma."

Fuelled with ire, she stormed from the room.

::

"I am surprised," Cassandra said as she watched Ashrielle by the stables at a distance.

"As am I," Cullen admitted. He checked over the paper a scout had rushed to him, signed it, and sent the man back on his way. Ashrielle's decision to trek off to the Hinderlands to close a few fade rifts had surprised the members of the war table, and the inner-circle asked to join her. "So soon after Adamant…"

"It is best," Cassandra decided. "To get back on the horse after falling, so to speak. Best not to give her time to fear battle, or its consequences."

Cullen glanced at the warrior, suited up in her armour as she would be accompanying the Inquisitor. "Be careful." Her hardened glare made him swallow hard. "Not that you aren't always careful, or skilled for that matter." Rubbing the back of his neck he muttered 'Maker's breath,' before finding more appropriate words. "I just mean-"

Taking pity on the Commander, Cassandra stopped him with a hand on his arm, her gaze softening. "I understand the sentiment, Commander. I'm just not particularly fond of being fretted over."

The one corner of his mouth curved up. "I'm hardly fretting."

She smiled back, and noticed the Inquisitor mounting the Dalish All-Bred. "Looks like I'm off to work."

::

Cassandra had her own worries to fret over. The Inquisitor always brought a well-balanced party with her. A good balanced of range, and melee; brute strength and flanking tactics. Today she'd brought Blackwall and Iron Bull to round their party of four. Warriors and an offensive storm mage.

"Hope you don't mind me saying, Seeker," Bull said, riding close to her as Blackwall took the lead, and Ashrielle rode in the middle. "But you've got these furrow lines, right here," he said pointing to the space between his brows. "You're practically projecting your anxiety."

Over time, she had learned it was better not to pretend with the ex-Ben-Hassrath. "Do you see our group's configuration?"

"You mean, do I notice the suspicious lack of an archer? I do. I also noticed there was a frostiness when I asked her if Solas would be joining us. Also, no Cole." He looked up at the canopy of leaves they rode under. "It's kind of odd not to have the kid around." He pulled the reigns a little when his mount decided to veer off, as it consistently did- Iron Bull was quite convinced the mount hated him. "All her usual groupings have been ignored. This is nothing but strength, and we can't count on Boss actually working a proper barrier, so, I hope you loaded up on health potions before we left."

::

Scout Harding stretched out. It was good to be so close to home. She wondered if she would have time to visit her parents while the Inquisition set up the forward camp just in time for the Inquisitor. Harding grinned, the Dalish Elf looked like something out of a fairy tale riding on her majestic steed. It took a moment to understand the sense of unease settling within her belly. The Inquisitor didn't wear a smile, as she usually did, nor did she tend to her own horse, instead passing her off to the Requisitions Officer to deal with. The rest of her crew was weighed with armour, Blackwall, Cassandra, and Iron Bull.

"I hope you don't come across a door that needs unlocking, looks like you're missing someone," Harding said in jest.

The Inquisitor glanced at her, then overhead. "Where are the rift that is causing the farmers problems?"

A blink. A breath. "Okay, to work then," Harding said, turning toward the maps spread out on a table, held down with stones at the corners. "It isn't too far," she said her gloved finger traced a trail, showing them the way.

"You should come with us," Bull said with a big grin.

"Me?" Harding practically jumped in her boots. Joining the Inquisitor herself, and her companions, even for just one afternoon would be an incredible experience. A story she would certainly tell forever.

Ashrielle turned to him slowly, eyes narrowed, arms crossing over her chest, a harsh wind blowing her long leather jacket and pulling at the braids in her hair. He ignored the look completely. "Yeah, you said so yourself, we're down someone who can unlock doors."

"We're here to kill demons, and shut a rift," Ashrielle argued.

"And how many times do we get to some door or chest along the way and can't open it?" Bull argued. "Besides, someone to help you flank enemies will keep injuries down," he said, playing to her soft-heart.

"Well, if Harding wants to-"

"Yes! Of course!" Harding jumped at the chance. "I'd be delighted."

Ashrielle frowned as if this was the opposite of the answer she wanted to hear. Turning away, she started toward the trail. "We leave the horses to rest. Let's get moving."

::

Cassandra bore down, planting her feet as the Pride Demon smashed against her shield. Of course, it just had to be a Pride Demon. Their immunity to lightening had Ashrielle occasionally casting the few winter spells she knew, they almost as weak as her barriers.

Next thing Cassandra knew, she was on her back, a Greater Terror looming over her. Lightening crackled as it struck, the Terror jerking on impact, paralyzed long enough for Cassandra to get to her feet. "I'll take the Terror," Ashrielle said, wielding her staff with ruthless grace.

"Pride is too strong," Cassandra said, seeing Blackwall throw back a health potion. "You need to disrupt the rift!"

Ashrielle looked past the Terror to the shifting fade rift. "Harding! Keep the Terror off my back!"

Several arrows hit the Terror at once, and it staggered back. Harding shot her a grin across the battlefield. "You got it, Inquisitor."

Cassandra rejoined the warriors hacking at the laughing Pride Demon. "The Inquisitor is going to disrupt the rift."

Bull ducked at the last minute, barely missing the massive armoured paws. "Good," he panted.

::

The battle dragged on, exhausting everyone, but finally the Pride Demon fell. Bull let the tip of his bloodied great axe hit the ground, arms burning with the exertion. He had a great love of battle, however, his Asaaranda hadn't been acting normal and it was making him nervous.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra shouted out. "Shut the rift!" Instead, the Elven woman stood under the weak rift, reached her hand to the leaking fade. "What is she doing?" Cassandra turned to the other companions, but Bull was already storming across the burnt grass.

Grabbing her arm, he yanked her back. "Close it."

"What if we could go in?" she asked, eyes pale and all too desperate. "We could find Stroud… we could bring him out."

"No."

Her face fell. "Bull-"

Despite the ache in his chest, he remained impassive. "No. He's dead. Close it."

"What if he's still alive in there?"

His hands on her shoulders grabbed, perhaps, a little too hard. "He isn't. He's dead. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain." She shook her head, refusing to grasp the obvious truth. His fingers tightened. "Who's going to die this time to ensure your escape?"

The full weight of her lithe body went behind the shove, some electricity coursing from her to him, knocking him back a full step. Set with anger, she turned back to the rift, lifted her left hand and bore down as she closed the rift.

She didn't say a word as she walked away.

::

The fire burned well into the night. Tents were pitched in a semi-circle. Soldiers stood guard, while the Inquisitor sat alone in her tent. Ashrielle stared at the green light on her hand, wishing it would swallow her whole. She wanted so badly to be strong, to see all the good she did, but the thought of being left in the fade, hopelessly alone to die sickened her to the core. And she did that to Stroud.

Laying on her back, palms up, the tent took on the eerie green glow she'd come to find comfort in. In a second, her peace was disturbed by a massive figure in her tent, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

"Sorry," Bull whispered. "It's hard to sneak into a tent when you're this size. You've got to pre-plan, avoid scouts, and make sure you don't get your horns caught on the tent opening."

She stared for a moment. "Are you here to scold me?"

His gaze softened. "I think you do that to yourself enough."

A little smile pulled on her lips, and she patted the spot next to her. "Stay a while?" He laid down, and she snuggled up to him, her leg tangling around his, and they laid silent for a long moment.

Biting her bottom lip, her finger trailed over his chest. "When I was a little girl, perhaps only in my fifth year, my clan travelled through the Free Marches," she whispered, not wishing anyone else to hear. "My magic hadn't yet manifested, I was tucked in the aravel with the other children."

"Aravel. Those are the landships, right?" His fingers found skin as he pulled her shirt up a little.

She smiled, pleased with the fact that he'd remembered. "Yes. The aravel stopped quite suddenly, and there were shouts outside. We could hear the sounds of swords clashing. We were frightened, Athras, Deyrith, and I. Athras was the oldest, he was in his seventieth year-"

"He should have been out there fighting then," Bull said.

"Perhaps if he were a child of the Qun, or of Human parents, or an elf of the city, but Dalish elves keep their children sacred, protected at all costs, the next generation of a dying breed. We're not considered adults until we receive our vallaslin, typically in our eighteenth year, and a Keeper could even decide we're not ready then. And so we were tucked away until the hatch opened. Varwen led us out, pushed us toward the nearby caves. When I looked back, the mast of the aravel was on fire. Everyone was fighting.

"We ran into the mouth of a cave, but the fighting was getting closer. An arrow hit Deyrith, he was born a few summers before I was, we were close." Her hands balled into fists. "There was so much blood. Athras pushed me further into the cave, he carried Deyrith. We just kept moving, Deyrith kept crying." She stopped, choking on the words, fighting tears as if it had happened only yesterday. "The noise attracted the spiders. They bit Athras, poisoned him, I think and he couldn't hold Deyrith anymore."

His hand rubbed her arm, and then clenched in her long hair, and she felt secure in his grasp. "They thought to get to me too, but… it was like a dam broke inside, and the waves washed over me, and lightening crackled, and flicked, it struck and leapt. I had absolutely no control over it, but it kept the spiders away from me." She frowned. "They wrapped Athras and Deyrith in webbing and dragged them deeper into the cave. I stayed, curled in a ball, hovering on the edge of consciousness, afraid the spiders would come back, but so very tired. Varwen found me, I didn't recognize him at first, not with all the blood, but his voice broke through… I just couldn't answer. How could I tell him his son had been shot by the archers, taken by spiders?"

"Explains why you're so afraid of them."

"Varwen carried me out. I wonder sometimes, if my magic had manifested itself just a little earlier… maybe I could have protected Athras, and by extension, Deyrith."

"You can't go through life like that," he said sternly. "The what-if's will kill you."

"I know. Doesn't stop it though." She frowned. "My mother died that day. The fighting got confused. The clan thought the humans were being aggressive toward us. They weren't. They were trying to warn us away from the approaching darkspawn. In the end, both sides took heavy losses. My mother had blight-sickness. The clan showed mercy by killing her swiftly." She glanced up at the Iron Bull. "I find it sad that you don't know your mother. I only had mine a few years, but I carry her with me always. With our dead, we plant a tree over their graves. I visit the tree where my mother became earth. It is… comforting."

"Perhaps then, it is time for a visit?" His fingers gently brushed over the arch of her ear, and she buried her face against his chest.

"She was very brave, the clan's best hunter but even she couldn't save father when they were ambushed. She tried to teach me young that you can't save everyone, but it is not a lesson I ever really was able to grasp. I want to save everyone, Bull."

"I know."

"But I can't."

"I know."

She paused a moment before asking in a small voice. "So, what do I do?"

"You do what you can," he said. "No one expects you to be able to save everyone."

Her breath was an unintentional caress over his skin. "Stay with me?"

"Always."