The Precipice of Change

by inukagome15

When Hawke attended the Conclave, he hadn't intended on waking up with a glowing hand and people thinking he was Andraste's Herald. He hadn't intended on somehow becoming the figurehead of the Inquisition. But intentions mean little in the face of action, and Hawke was never one to back down from a challenge. When the world stands on the edge of change…what else can he do but leap?

14. Skyhold I

So this is at once a super long chapter and also the LAST chapter that will be posted for a while! At least until I get to the Winter Palace, at which time a normal posting schedule will be resumed for a short time. I am currently stuck at some point in Chapter 16 with trying to get past an important conversation, but hopefully it'll be smoother sailing after that. I also have several other stories I'm involved with, which makes me rather guilty when I only focus on one story.

In any case, thanks so much for tuning in! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!

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Chapter 14: Skyhold I

---

"I never told you how Justice and I met, did I?"

Anders's voice roused him, and he took notice that it was the middle of the night. And that the curtains were thankfully not on fire so things must have been relatively fine.

Then he realized what had woken him, so he rolled on his side to see Anders watching him, mouth twisted uneasily. He searched for the right words, but his brain was fuzzy and all he managed was, "You didn't spring out of the womb like this?"

The corner of Anders's lips tilted up in a small smile. "No. Maybe it would have been easier if I had."

"Then no." He tucked one hand under his pillow, leaving the other lying between them for Anders to hold if he wanted. "I'm all ears."

"I was a new Warden," Anders murmured, voice quiet in the stillness of the night, his own weariness dulling the edges of the words. "We were investigating the talking darkspawn that we'd seen in Vigil's Keep. There was another Warden who'd gone missing, and we tracked him to the Blackmarsh. Lovely place. All…marshy." His nose wrinkled.

"It's a marsh."

"It could have been a dry marsh," Anders said dryly. "But well… It wasn't." His voice was quiet as he spoke about the Blackmarsh Undying's history, the ruins that they had seen there and the thin Veil.

Along with how they'd been pulled into the Fade by the First.

"The village was there," Anders said. "As were the villagers. They didn't know they were dead. I had watched them for a while, but I had – no." He frowned, eyes closing. "That was Justice," he continued more slowly. "Justice had been watching. He wanted to help and had started rousing the villagers. That's when we found them. The Warden-Commander was fierce; she didn't hesitate before agreeing to help. The only thing she wanted was a way out, and I promised to help find one."

Anders didn't seem to have noticed the lapse. Nor did he notice the way cracks of light were breaking through his skin.

He inhaled, drawing in closer and reaching out with one hand to tangle his fingers with Anders's. "What happened?"

"The First had been drawn into the Fade as well and sought the help of the Baroness. To his own death, as she used his blood to fuel the spell that sent us all back into the world of the living. When we woke…there was a spirit in a corpse and no way to return. It was terrifying."

"But you made it back."

"Did I?" Anders murmured, eyes half-lidded in the dark. They were too bright for Anders's usual brown. "Trapped in the living world in the rotting body of a corpse. A spirit isn't alive, not like you. But he was trapped, and so he joined us. But a corpse is a corpse, and there was no solution to be found."

"Destroying the corpse wouldn't do anything?"

"It would not have opened the way back."

That put the number of walking corpses they'd destroyed in a new light. "So we have a bunch of spirits wandering around after we've destroyed their bodies?"

Anders smiled at that. "Not quite. Destroy the body, destroy what is holding the spirit together. No spirit who made it to the world of the living has ever returned."

He paused. "It…is rather maddening being trapped in a dead body; you lose your senses. I – Justice was entirely aware and in the world of mortals. I would not wish it on another spirit. The living world is different, you see. You cannot will things to change, not like in the Fade." He blinked, looking slightly disconcerted. "Demons take," he said after a moment. "They don't ask. And I – Justice didn't want to take. It was Nathaniel who suggested that he ask about sharing a body. I didn't like the idea, but it was the only thing we could think of."

It was disconcerting hearing Justice's inflections without the usual reverberation of the spirit's voice. But he wouldn't point it out, not with Anders as calm as he was right now.

"But we waited," Anders continued. "I don't know what for. Another solution? One that never came. But the Warden-Commander left for the palace; she had only ever intended on staying for a short time before resuming her duties as the Queen."

There was a stiffness in Anders's body that hadn't been there before, and the sense of the Fade about him sharpened almost painfully. "The Chantry sent templars. There wasn't a moment I was alone after they joined. It became more and more frustrating, and I was running out of time. I had offered to help Justice if he wanted, and he wanted to help the mages.

"So much injustice, and we could help. If we joined, if we would be able to work together…" Anders's chin ducked, his hair falling into his eyes. "But it was a decision not made lightly, so we waited. Perhaps too long."

He didn't say anything, slowly sliding closer before stopping their heads were scant inches from one another.

After a few minutes where he thought Anders had fallen asleep, the other spoke again. "We thought it was safe. We had met outside as we usually did. I'm…not sure what we were doing anymore. Patrolling, maybe?" Fingers tightened where they were interlinked with his own. "I think…they found us." He was shaking slightly, his grip so tight it was almost painful. "It was a massacre, Hawke. When I woke up…they were all dead, and I was – Justice was in me."

He didn't want to push and ask what happened, but he had to admit there was a morbid curiosity burning in his chest.

Anders didn't wait for him to indulge it, saying, "We killed them. They attacked first – thrust a sword through our heart that failed because we were no longer mortal – but where was the justice? It was vengeance, and we did not know if we were still ourselves. So…we fled."

His eyes flickered to the spot on Anders's chest where a scar bloomed. There was another mark on his back that looked virtually identical to the one on his chest. He'd asked before where Anders had gotten it, but there had never been an answer.

Now…he rather wished that it hadn't been received this way.

Anders drew in a shuddering breath, lifting his head just enough to meet his eyes. "That's how I met him," he said softly. "And joined as well." His smile was wry.

He closed the rest of the distance to pull Anders into a hug as best as he could with one arm, moving to hide his face in the crook of Anders's neck. "Thank you for sharing." He inhaled the scent of the Fade, much purer and cleaner than anything else in Kirkwall, and exhaled in relief. "That shouldn't have happened."

Anders hugged back, the touch slightly shaky. "You don't…care? We – I killed several templars with my bare hands—"

"You think I don't know you're dangerous? You know me, Anders." He pulled away just far enough that he could look Anders in the eyes. "How dangerous do you think I am?"

Anders carefully touched his face, fingers pressing on his cheekbones. "Far more than you pretend to be, far less than I am."

"Yes," he agreed. "So do you think it matters? I knew what I was getting into when I met you. I knew who I was falling in love with. You're the only one; you know that."

"I still don't believe it," Anders murmured. "But perhaps I should considering you."

"Please do." He pressed a kiss to the underside of Anders's jaw. "And please stop trying to scare me off. You're going to give me a complex."

Anders's laugh wasn't as light as it usually as, but it was enough. As was the fierce kiss Anders pulled him into seconds later.

---

The first night after they began their journey to Skyhold saw most of Hawke's traveling companions sitting around a large fire Hawke had started.

Really, it had just been Varric, Hawke, and Anders first, but Dorian joined them not long after. Cole appeared to sit by Hawke's feet, hat hiding his face from view. Minutes later, Cassandra crept in to sit by Varric, looking rather like she would glare anyone who protested into submission. Then came Solas, Blackwall, and the Iron Bull in short succession.

Hawke wasn't sure why everyone wanted to share this particular fire since there were others that probably had more room, but he obligingly made it a little larger every time someone else joined.

Eventually Anders pulled him away and let Dorian take over fire-keeping duties. The other mage didn't seem to know what to do with the large piece of wood Varric had handed him with a solemn face but did seem to doubt that poking wood into a fire was a good idea.

The night was quiet, everyone exhausted from the day's march through the snow and cold of the mountains. The only thing that could be heard was the occasional rustle of wind and the crackling of the fire.

For his part, Hawke had to admit he was more exhausted than he should have been, his body not yet recovered from its earlier ordeal. He was dozing off where his head was lying on Anders's thigh, fingers stroking through his hair soothingly. Anders's other hand was clasped in his own on his chest, directly over his heart.

Lying on the ground should have been uncomfortable, but Hawke had made sure to melt the snow and warm the ground before doing so. The heat of the fire staved off any remaining chill, as did the warm cloak he was wearing.

Hawke was almost asleep when Cassandra's voice dragged him out of it, the sound unexpected after so long in silence or quiet murmurs.

"It's so obvious. How did I not notice before?" She sounded rather disgusted, and Hawke's brain was fuzzy enough that he couldn't tell who it was directed towards.

"You weren't looking for it?" Varric offered, sitting on Anders's other side.

"That may be, but what happened in Haven should have been enough." Cassandra sounded displeased now. "Who else would be brave enough to go so near an abomination? And that it was Anders—"

Hawke roused himself enough to say sharply, "He's not."

"It's fine," Anders said quietly, not looking in Cassandra's direction.

Hawke tried to sit up, but Anders pushed him down forcefully with the hand on his chest. Huffing, he resettled, but he scowled up at the night sky. "Cassandra, I'd be obliged if you didn't call Anders an abomination since he isn't."

He couldn't see Cassandra, but he was relatively sure that she was frowning pretty heavily now and probably eyeing him skeptically. "He is possessed by a spirit—"

"He's not trying to kill any of us," Hawke said offhandedly, thumb stroking over Anders's knuckles. "Which is what abominations generally do in my experience. They also mutate." There was a great deal more to an abomination than that, but those were the easiest hallmarks for him to point out to someone who couldn't see things the same way.

"Then what would you call him?" Cassandra asked.

Hawke didn't give it much thought before answering, "Anders. Or Justice. Depends on who it is."

"How can you tell?" Blackwall sounded curious.

"Generally, one glows and the other doesn't," Varric replied flippantly. "But that's just me. I dunno about Hawke."

Hawke smiled up at Anders, squeezing his hand. It was glowing softly, like Justice didn't want to draw attention. "The glowing is a good sign." And the taste and feel of the Fade that Justice brought with him, so sharp and tangible that Hawke could never miss it.

The silence that fell back over them was only broken intermittently by the crackling hiss of the fire.

Hawke started to drift off again, breathing evening out, when Cassandra spoke again. "How did it happen? You and…Justice."

"I would've thought Varric had it all written out," Anders responded, head turning to the side to look over at Cassandra. "Or didn't he tell you while you were interrogating him for Hawke's whereabouts?"

Varric snorted. "It was The Tale of the Champion not The Tale of the Warden and His Spirit Buddy. Besides, you weren't exactly chatty about it."

"Is that you angling for a story, Varric?"

"Nah." Varric paused, then added, "Or it could be? There hasn't been anything written on what happened after the Hero of Ferelden ended the Blight. Just…history books."

"Brother Genitivi gets around," Anders agreed, humming slightly.

Hawke reached up with his other hand to stroke the edge of Anders's jaw, murmuring, "You don't have to."

Anders leaned briefly into the touch before looking up at the others. "There must be something else more interesting to do than listen to me talk. I'm not even that good at telling stories."

"Oh no," Dorian said brightly. "Otherwise we'll just be sitting here freezing our asses off."

"Speak for yourself," the Iron Bull said. "I'm pretty toasty over here."

"And how that's possible given you aren't even wearing a shirt is a mystery."

"There are colder places to be," Cole said, knees pulled up to his chest. "But here isn't so bad, not with the fire and people—"

"Okay, buddy, that's enough." The Iron Bull sounded perturbed.

Anders chuckled. "That's more interesting than anything I could come up with."

"Nope." From the way Anders shifted, Varric must have elbowed him. "C'mon, Blondie. We're all ears."

"All right." Anders huffed out another laugh, bringing his left hand up to push his hair back. "I should probably start more at the beginning, shouldn't I?" He paused, considering. "It was about six months after the Warden-Commander killed the Archdemon. I hadn't been in the Circle for at least that long, so I didn't know what happened there."

"Southern mages are usually in Circles, aren't they?" Dorian asked. "Except for Hawke here, I suppose." When Solas coughed lightly, Dorian added, "And you."

"I'd escaped," Anders said bluntly. "This was probably my seventh try? It was a good long while, too. But I'd stopped to help this couple: the husband was injured and the wife sick. I stayed too long, and the templars tracked me down." His face darkened. "They took me to Vigil's Keep; it was only supposed to be for a night. They put me in this lovely cell…"

Anders shook his head. "The darkspawn attacked that same night. I'm not sure what the templars were thinking, but one of them tried to get in the cell with me. Maybe he thought it'd be better protection?" His lips quirked. "The darkspawn killed them quickly enough, and then I killed them. That's when the Warden-Commander found me." He was smiling, so at least this part was good. "She let me help." The smile vanished in favor of a frown. "Only then I was conscripted because this self-righteous templar came with King Alistair and thought I was too dangerous to go free."

"I cannot imagine why," Cassandra said dryly.

"I know, right? It's not like I'd slipped the Circle half a dozen times by that point…" Anders smirked lightly. "Anyway, I was a Warden, and we had a mystery to solve. Such as why darkspawn could suddenly talk, and why they were still out and about after the Archdemon was dead."

"Talking darkspawn?" Dorian sounded alarmed.

Anders waved it off briefly before dropping his hand to return to playing with Hawke's hair. "It's handled now. But it wasn't then. We ended up going to the Blackmarsh in search for a Warden named Kristoff, who was also investigating the darkspawn."

"He was dead, wasn't he," Varric said, sounding like he already knew this story.

"Are you going to let me tell the story or not?" Anders waited until Varric had subsided before continuing. "Yes, he was dead. And rather conveniently laid out not far from his camp. In retrospect, it was a rather obvious trap… But the Warden-Commander didn't have much choice, so we went poking about. Only for the darkspawn to ambush us. I think it was the one called the First; he had some kind of orb that sent us all into the Fade."

Hawke could see Solas perk up. "Physically?"

"It might as well have considering it knocked us out and locked us away," Anders said acerbically. "I'm not sure what it was, but it did the impossible since Oghren came, too."

Cassandra sounded disbelieving. "Oghren?"

"I know, right?" Anders sounded longsuffering. "He wasn't much happier."

"Dwarves don't dream," Cole said, head tilting. "Dwarves can't dream. So why the Fade? Not possible—"

"A dwarf was in the Fade?" Dorian interrupted. "A dwarf?"

"A smelly, loud, and rude dwarf," Anders said. "I don't know what the Warden-Commander saw in him, but I suppose there's something to be said for having faced down the Blight together."

He was still stroking through Hawke's hair with one hand, but he was becoming stiffer. The amusement in his voice hadn't reached his eyes.

Hawke slowly sat up, glad when Anders didn't push him back down, moving until his side was pressed up against Anders's and he could wrap an arm around him. "Was that where you met Justice?" he asked quietly, more to prompt Anders than to get an answer he already knew.

"Yes," Anders said, voice subdued. "The Blackmarsh Undying… There'd been a village there at one point, years ago. The ruins were still there when we went, and the Veil was thin. But the Fade…the Fade remembered. The village was there, as were all the inhabitants. They'd been locked away by the Baroness when they burned her mansion down." He looked up, light glinting in his eyes. "She had taken their children for her blood magic. It was justice they sought and justice they meted out, but she stole their lives in turn."

Anders didn't continue immediately, eyes closed.

Last time Hawke had heard this story, it had been in the dead of the night, and Anders's words and tone inflections had changed between his own and Justice's.

"The Baroness pulled us back through the Veil and to our bodies," Anders continued, voice neutral and words carefully enunciated. "Justice was in a corpse. Since there was nowhere else for him to go, the Warden-Commander let him join us." A smile flickered across his face. "She had a habit of picking up strays. And…in this case it was helpful."

Anders was as stiff as a board. "After she left to return to Denerim, the Chantry sent some templars. Officially the templars weren't templars any longer. Unofficially…well…we all knew they were there to watch me."

Hawke's eyes flicked over to Cassandra, noting that she was frowning.

"Nathaniel Howe was the one to suggest that Justice share a body with a living human. There weren't any other options we could think of, so we started talking about how it would be possible." Anders rubbed a hand over his mouth, brow furrowed. "He wanted to help the mages," he said slowly. "He had heard enough from me to have opinions about what to do. I'm…not entirely sure what happened that pushed our hand. Only at the end…we were joined." He looked up, smile wry. "We went to Kirkwall, and you can read Varric's book for the details there. He's better than I am when it comes to that."

"You skimped out on the ending there, Blondie," Varric complained. "Where were the heroic battles?"

"Not so heroic," Anders muttered, eyes dropping.

"The templars," Cassandra said slowly, "what happened to them?"

Anders's shoulders slumped as he curled in tighter towards Hawke. "I think you know."

"Man." The Iron Bull blew out a long, slow breath through his teeth, the air whistling slightly. "Demons aren't anything to mess with."

Anders reacted before Hawke could, cracks of light bursting through his skin. As close to him as he was, Hawke's skin tingled with the close touch of the Fade, and he found his next breath nothing but Fade-touched oxygen.

"I am not—" Anders broke off, wrenching away from Hawke and standing hastily. He was still glowing with light, but it was Anders stalking away from the fire and into the dark, in the opposite direction of the rest of the camp.

Hawke didn't hesitate before running after him, propping himself up on Varric's shoulder as he stood.

No one called after him, which was just as well since he had very little patience for anything else.

When he caught up with Anders, the other was kneeling in the snow, arms wrapped around himself and shivering violently in the freezing wind.

He didn't say anything, instead crouching down beside him and warming the air until the shivers began to subside. He kept a hand on Anders's shoulder, a simple reminder that he was there.

Hawke wasn't sure how much time passed before Anders lifted his head, looking off into the darkness.

"We don't know what we are, Hawke," Anders whispered, his voice almost lost to the wind. "It's better now that we're not in Kirkwall. But…we don't know."

Hawke almost said that he was whomever he wanted to be. That he was Anders and that he was Justice. He almost said that he didn't care because it didn't matter to him.

But it mattered to Anders, and he didn't want to hurt him anymore.

So he knelt down in the snow, moving to wrap Anders in a hug and pressed his lips to Anders's temple.

"I know," Hawke said quietly once Anders had relaxed. "And I'm sorry."

"You make it better," Anders murmured. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

Hawke didn't want to dwell on that frightening possibility, so he responded the best way he could. "Not kneeling in the snow in the middle of the Frostback Mountains. Really, I think anywhere else would be better."

Anders snorted, seemingly despite himself. His grin looked slightly disbelieving but was a relief to see. "Oh, love… You're wrong. Here's exactly where I want to be." He reached up to touch Hawke's cheek, kissing him briefly. "But you're right. Here's rather chilly. Can we move?"

"Please."

---

The second day was another day's hard march, although tempered for those in the Inquisition who were unable to keep up the pace. They had horses, but not so many that there was enough for every child or injured person. The oxen were few as well and pulled the carts filled with necessary supplies.

Hawke was in better shape that day than he had been the previous one. Even so, he was exhausted when they set up camp for the evening and lit fires.

Anders had stayed by his side during the day, hooded cloak keeping his features hidden as he watched Hawke struggle with a crinkled map and compass in amusement. But he did take pity at one point and help Hawke hold it in place before the wind could crumple it up again.

Hawke wasn't sure if the others would want to share a campfire again, but he didn't feel up to another night like last time. Anders didn't look up for it either, eyes pinched and mouth weary.

Maybe his companions could see that, since the only person who joined them by the small campfire Hawke had set up by their tent was Varric. His friend didn't say anything beyond settling down to tend to Bianca.

There wasn't a great deal to lean against aside from cots and some crates, but Hawke had one that he pushed over until it was close enough to the fire that they could sit against it and not be burned from the heat. Hawke was more curled into Anders than leaning against the crate, preferring the warmth of his body to the cold wood.

It was also a position he could fall asleep in, although that definitely hadn't been the intention when he'd slowly leaned into Anders.

Drowsy, Hawke turned his head to the side to brush his nose along Anders's neck, lips following suit. The contact had Anders shivering in a way that made Hawke smile briefly, lips still pressed to warm skin.

"It's frightening, but he makes it better," Cole's voice said, coming from Anders's other side. "Not Anders, not Justice, just me."

Varric jumped, flinching back. "Andraste's ass, kid! Give a dwarf some warning, will you?"

"Why would I wear a bell?" Cole sounded confused. "It would be too small."

"So that I don't get a heart attack every time you decide to pop out of nowhere?"

Cole didn't answer, but Hawke could picture his head tilting to the side.

"You were hurting last night," Cole said quietly. "I wanted to help, but the Hawke did first, soothed the hurt, you're you and no one else."

Hawke winced at the address, far too keenly reminded of Corypheus. "Do I look like a bird?" he muttered. "Just Hawke's fine."

"You're missing the feathers," Varric agreed.

Hawke could feel Anders's chest expand with the breath he took before he spoke. "You're…Compassion."

Oh?

Hawke picked himself up enough to peer around Anders to see Cole's reaction. The other didn't look surprised, simply dipping his head in acknowledgement.

Solas hadn't been able to tell, but Anders did have Justice.

"You're Justice," Cole said, "and Anders. Both at once? Or separate? I can't tell anymore. What am I?"

"You tell me," Anders said wearily.

"I can't," Cole said, sounding apologetic. "You're not just Justice or Anders; you're both. Spirit or human? Not a demon; demons take and I did not take." He paused, then continued in a voice that sounded relatively normal. "You can't talk to each other, can you?"

Hawke felt the arm Anders had wrapped around him tighten. "No. Not anymore."

"You miss it," Cole said when Anders didn't continue.

"He was my friend."

"He misses it," Cole said after a moment. "The days in Vigil's Keep. Nathaniel, Oghren, the Warden-Commander, Anders. He regrets hurting you; he never wanted to hurt you."

Anders's body stiffened slightly. "You can hear him?"

"He's a spirit, too," Cole said. "Maybe not like me, but he's loud. Yes, I can hear him."

Hawke shared a glance with Varric, who was looking rather awkward just sitting there but was also making no move to leave. He was probably planning on putting this in his next book.

"Does he know I'm sorry? That I didn't want this to happen – for me to corrupt him—"

"You were angry," Cole said, interrupting Anders, "but so was he. So much injustice, no one listening, they attacked us – wanted to kill us – so we killed them. Sword through our chest, but we are not of mortal men. What did we do?" For all the horror the words contained, his tone was matter-of-fact. "This was not justice – this was vengeance—"

"I know that," Anders snapped. "You don't need to go through that again—"

"He knows," Cole said calmly. "He forgives you; he forgave you a long time ago."

The "oh" Anders let out sounded like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Hawke shifted, going to touch Anders's leg. "Anders?"

"It's true." Anders sounded wondering. "I can – I can actually feel that."

Anders didn't feel or look any different to Hawke's senses, but he supposed there was something else that he couldn't see.

"But he's sorry," Cole continued.

"What's he sorry for?" There was confusion in Anders's tone.

"Everything?" Varric muttered.

"He lost himself," Cole answered. "So many doubts, he couldn't hold on. Hawke helped; always Justice, never Vengeance. Not an abomination."

Hawke felt himself flush and pulled his cloak up to hide the lower half of his face. He deliberately ignored Varric, but he could tell his friend was smirking.

Anders's arm around him tightened, the grip reassuringly steady even through the thrum of pleased embarrassment that rushed through him.

"You don't like not knowing." Cole's voice was quiet. "What he wants, what I want, what I am. Tangled up in knots; am I Justice or is he?"

"It's done, Cole," Anders said tiredly. "It's easier now than it was."

Hawke saw Cole duck his head. "I don't know," he admitted, pained.

"I don't either."

Cole said nothing else, and Hawke felt him move away after some minutes passed.

"Kid's gone," Varric announced, looking around. He pulled a face. "That's going to take some getting used to."

Hawke moved to straighten so he could evaluate Anders, but he was abruptly pulled in tighter. A second later he felt Anders hide his face in his hair.

"Anders?"

Anders shook his head, face still hidden in Hawke's hair. "He's right, you know," he mumbled, voice muffled. "You keep us grounded."

Varric wasn't looking at them, head deliberately turned away to inspect a nonexistent something on the ground.

Exhaling softly, Hawke reached for where Anders had his hand fisted in Hawke's cloak, linking their fingers together. He didn't say anything.

What else could he say but that Anders kept him grounded as well?

---

When Solas came up to him the next evening while Hawke was frowning down at a map, Hawke didn't even bother looking up before saying, "Please don't tell me we're lost."

Solas didn't respond immediately. Then, carefully, "I would not have done so."

"Oh good." Hawke rubbed his mouth as he looked ahead into the evening light, sighing when he saw more mountains and more snow. Also some trees. "Because I've just been leading us north and unless this compass is wrong that means we shouldn't be lost."

"We are not lost," Solas assured him, which did help Hawke feel somewhat better.

"Great." Hawke glanced back at him. "Did you need something?"

"Cole came to me last night."

"Do we need Anders for this conversation? Because I think we need Anders. This seems like an Anders-type conversation."

Before Solas could say anything else, Hawke had his map rolled up and went in search of Anders. It wasn't difficult to find him as Hawke had set up not far from the healer's tent and Anders wouldn't be anywhere else.

Anders was checking up on Roderick when Hawke located the proper tent. Roderick actually had his mouth shut and wasn't saying anything at all, which Hawke had previously thought impossible.

"Did you need something?" Anders asked, glancing to him.

"It'll keep."

"Not that it has to." Anders straightened and stepped back from Roderick. "I'm done here." He addressed Roderick next, "So long as you don't go around getting stabbed on a daily basis you should be fine."

Roderick stood, inclining his head in Anders's direction. "You have my thanks, Anders." His eyes darted to Hawke. "I had not thought so before, but the Maker blessed us with your presence."

Anders snorted. "That's a first if I've ever heard it."

Roderick caught Hawke's eyes, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it and left. It was entirely possible he'd seen Hawke's "do not get into this right now Maker help you" face. (Varric claimed it had once intimidated Meredith herself. Hawke told him to stop writing tall tales.)

"Solas wanted a word," Hawke told Anders once Roderick was gone. "Cole spoke to him."

"I wonder what about," Anders said dryly. "Let's not do it here."

The only two other people in the tent were asleep, but Hawke followed Anders out to where Solas was standing.

"Is this where you start cursing me out?" Anders said without further ado. "Because if it is, I'll pass."

Solas raised an eyebrow, which was the only outward reaction he had. "Not at all. You wanted to help your friend; I find that an admirable decision. Cole simply wants to help, but he does not know how."

"And you do?"

"I confess I have not seen something like this before," Solas admitted. "Then again, I had not known that it was possible to physically pull a spirit from the Fade without any hope of return."

"Great, thanks." Anders shrugged dismissively, nose wrinkling. "That was helpful. You can go and tell Cole that, too."

"I am curious," Solas said, ignoring the sarcasm in Anders's tone. "Spirit healers work by drawing energy from a Fade spirit, correct?"

"Yes."

"Where do you draw your energy from now?"

Anders sighed, shoulders slumping. "It was a spirit of hope before. But I lost contact with it after…" He shook his head. "Justice lets me use his energy when I need it."

Solas nodded, looking like he'd expected the answer. "And what is an abomination?"

"A mage possessed by a demon," Anders answered slowly, sounding wary. He frowned. "Is there a point to this or are you trying to give me a lecture? I haven't been an apprentice in years."

"I do have a point," Solas said patiently. His eyes flicked towards Hawke. "When demons control a mage's spirit in the Fade, thus gaining access to their bodies, that creates an abomination. Some are able to hide themselves in the guise of a human; others are not so skilled. However…" He pursed his lips. "Justice was physically drawn through the Veil and into this world; he no longer had a presence in the Fade. So you accepted him into your own body. In doing so, you merged in a way that no other being has."

"I'm expecting flowers and an apology for my loss any second now," Anders said, sighing.

Solas ignored the interjection. "I cannot see a way of separating you two without killing one – your spirits are too intertwined at this point."

"He's not a demon, though," Hawke said plainly, watching Solas keenly.

"No," Solas confirmed. "Not at the moment. Perhaps he was at one point. Your fears could have changed his nature, as spirits reflect the expectations of those they meet. But he is no demon. Nor is he entirely a spirit. Just as you are no longer entirely human."

Anders frowned, head ducking slightly. "Fantastic. What am I then?"

"I don't know." Solas seemed to have no qualms in admitting this.

"You're Anders," Hawke said when Anders didn't say anything.

Anders turned to him, still frowning. "Did you know?"

"How?" Hawke looked at Anders, taking in the entirety of his bright presence. Anders had never looked like a human, but he'd always thought that was because of Justice. "I told you that you weren't an abomination."

Anders's lips quirked. "You say a lot of things, love. Sometimes they're not true."

Biting back what he wanted to say, Hawke frowned, glancing at Solas. Andraste's ass, Anders knew what Hawke could see. Maybe not every bit of it, but Hawke hadn't made an effort at hiding it from Anders.

"In this case, I would have to agree with Hawke." Solas held Hawke's gaze for a second before returning his eyes to Anders. "You are no abomination. If you would like, Cole and I can help."

Anders raised his eyebrows. "Cole I understand, but you? You can't hear Justice."

"I have seen much from my journeys into the Fade," Solas said. "There may not be a perfect solution, but something can be arranged so the situation improves."

Anders glanced back at Hawke, who put up his hands. "I'll support your decision."

Looking back at Solas, Anders rubbed the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes, breathing out loudly, breath pluming in front of him.

Hawke inhaled, the air cold to his lungs and tinged with the Fade presence around Anders. It seemed to spike for a second but it subsided as quickly as it had come, and he could have imagined it if it weren't for how Anders squared his shoulders.

"All right," Anders said. "I suppose there's nothing to lose."

Solas dipped his head. "Thank you. Both of you." With one last lingering look, Solas left, leaving them alone.

Hawke didn't hesitate before reaching out to embrace Anders, wrapping his arms around him from behind and setting his chin on Anders's shoulder. "Okay?" he asked quietly.

Anders rested a hand on Hawke's arm, seemingly absentmindedly. He was looking off into the distance. "I don't know. Maybe they can help but…I don't want to hope too much."

"I'll hope for you," Hawke suggested.

There was no verbal response aside from a hum. Then, "Shit, what are you doing still standing?"

Hawke wasn't anywhere near as exhausted as he'd been the last two days, but he let Anders fuss over him and bring him to a fire. They still had quite a bit more walking to do, and it wouldn't hurt to be somewhat rested.

---

About three weeks later, Hawke's legs were killing him from constantly going uphill and downhill. Or up-mountain and down-mountain really. Through the snow.

It wasn't that he was in bad shape, but mountains.

Also three weeks of nonstop trudging with only breaks for the night. And he had to continually keep ahead to be sure that they were on the right track. Solas helped, but his suggestions were more "maybe a little to the east?" and not "turn right at that mountain and then left." Which would be more helpful than squinting at a compass in the bright glare of the sun and hoping for the best.

But something had changed in the air as they ate up the miles. Not necessarily the air itself, as that continued to be mountain air that was bitterly cold, but the Fade.

It felt different here. Almost…purer.

Hawke couldn't pinpoint what it was, but it wasn't bad.

Anders seemed to like it as well, although that could have been the conversations he had been having with Cole and Solas. With someone there who could essentially be a voice for Justice, some tension that had always been there had left, and Anders seemed more relaxed.

Hawke was not slightly jealous about it.

He'd tried to help as best as he could since he'd met Anders, but it wasn't like he had a line to Justice the way Cole did. Which had been most of the problem for as long as Hawke knew Anders and which had alleviated only slightly since they'd left Kirkwall.

Really, it always came back to Kirkwall, didn't it?

Hawke wouldn't be surprised if the problems with Justice stemmed from the blighted city. The Fade there was certainly sick enough to twist even the most benevolent spirit, and Justice was too much of a fighter to really be considered a gentle one.

Shaking the thoughts off, Hawke clambered up the current mountain he had decided to tackle to scout ahead. From the meaningful looks Solas had shot his way when he chose it, he must not have been very far off from Skyhold.

Solas was following after him, which probably meant he was right.

Hawke stepped up over the crest, and then had to stop cold, eyes widening at the sight laid out before him.

There was an icy valley below, but in the middle and on top of another mountain was an enormous fortress. It was much bigger than anything Hawke had conceived of when Solas had told him about it, and it was in the middle of nowhere.

"Skyhold," Solas said simply, standing next to Hawke.

Hawke scanned the route they would need to take to get to the fortress. Manageable, but it would probably take another day with everything they had.

This time, when he looked back at Skyhold for one last look at the future base of the Inquisition, something like a curtain seemed to fall over it, rippling strangely before spreading outwards. But then it was gone, and Skyhold looked like it had before.

Hawke glanced at Solas, but he didn't seem to have noticed anything. Not wanting to have to answer any questions that he couldn't, Hawke turned and began the trek back down.

They were almost there.

---

A few days later, Hawke was finally "allowed" up to Skyhold. Not that he'd protested much in favor of letting more skilled individuals up first to check the fortress's integrity and how hospitable it was to a force the Inquisition's size. They'd lost people in the attack on Haven, but there were still over a hundred people to account for.

But now that Skyhold's integrity had been vouched for, they were slowly starting to move people into it.

Hawke had to admit to some trepidation, the vision of what he'd seen on that mountain still stark in his mind. He had no idea what that had been, only it wasn't normal.

And the Veil felt strange here. Not like it was thin, but more like a curtain he could peel back if only he knew how to grab hold of it.

Not that he wanted to.

He didn't really fancy opening another Breach here and actually being responsible for it.

"Shit, this thing looks even bigger up close," Varric said, craning his neck back as they approached the outer wall.

"Compared to it looking small before?" Dorian asked.

"Before we weren't exactly standing in it, were we?"

Ignoring the byplay, Hawke continued up to the gates, Anders by his side. He kept a wary eye out for anything odd, the image of that strange vision he'd seen earlier still clear in his mind. But Skyhold seemed perfectly normal except for being a fortress in the middle of Frostback Mountains.

Nothing was perfect.

Exhaling softly as he entered the courtyard, Hawke craned his head back to take in the enormous structure that loomed over their heads, reaching to the sky. There was a spiraling staircase ahead of them that seemed to lead to another courtyard above them. To their right was nothing but rubble and stones from a bridge overhead that seemed to have collapsed at some point, and it was blocking whatever was on that side.

Hawke's first impression of the place was that it was incredibly intimidating and that it was also strangely green for being in the mountains. There was no snow on the ground, but there were some puddles where snow might have been before it melted.

It was much warmer than it had been at the mountain's base and for absolutely no logistical reason he could think of.

Except for how the place was absolutely saturated in magic. Hawke couldn't take a breath without inhaling it and picking out a dozen different spells worked into the atmosphere. Even his feet tingled from the enchantments woven into the stone.

Hawke didn't want to know what it would feel like when he touched the actual walls.

"Oh my." Dorian sounded amazed. "It's actually warm here. Color me surprised."

"Color me pleased," Varric added. "And here I was thinking we'd be spending the next year in the snow."

"Maybe if you actually wore something that didn't reveal half your chest…" Anders said slowly.

"And deprive everyone of this sight?"

Hawke dropped his gaze from where he'd followed the line of the battlements, taking a few more steps forward. Only to nearly run into somebody that walked directly before him.

He flinched back, bumping into Dorian, about to apologize when he realized just what he'd almost run into.

A ghost?

Dorian was saying something, but Hawke's attention was on the ghost that was walking across the courtyard. It was an elf clad in what looked like battle armor, but it did nothing other than walk the length of the courtyard to the staircase before it disappeared.

Anders's hand on his arm brought his attention back to the others, and Hawke realized he was still leaning against Dorian. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Ah…" Hawke glanced back to where he'd last seen the ghost, but there was nothing there. "Did you…see something?"

Anders frowned, eyes flicking away to look at the courtyard. "Did you?"

"I…" Hawke ran a hand over the back of his head, biting the inside of his cheek. "No," he said eventually. "It was nothing."

"Are you sure?" Dorian sounded concerned, and a hand came to rest on Hawke's shoulder. "I don't mind having you swoon into my arms, but that's not something you do."

"It's fine." Hawke mentally shook himself, which didn't help all that much considering how all his senses were prickling with the magic inundating Skyhold.

Well, it'd only get better if he spent time here. Hopefully. (It hadn't with Kirkwall.)

Making as if nothing was wrong, Hawke followed the ghost's tracks to the stairs, carefully picking his way up on the overgrown steps. The top courtyard was bigger than expected, albeit with rubble in corners and a building on the other end that had clearly seen better days.

Looking to his left, Hawke looked up the staircase that led to the main building. It was chipped in places, but other than that it looked solid enough.

He felt Cassandra step up next to him. "There is a great deal of work to be done before this place is remotely in decent condition."

"I don't know." Hawke gave her a wry smile. "It's better than Lothering."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "Now of that I have no doubt. But this is to be the base of the Inquisition." She sighed. "Such as it is."

Hawke hesitated briefly before knocking his knuckles against her shoulder, giving her a softer smile. "It'll be fine. We've got what we need."

"I…" A faint pink hue dusted Cassandra's cheek much to Hawke's bemusement. "I suppose we do. E-excuse me. I will see to Cullen."

She stalked off, but not before Varric let out a low chuckle. "Oh boy, that's going to be fun."

Hawke glanced down at him, unsure of what he meant. "What?"

Varric just grinned up at him, looking far too innocent for his own good. "Nothing."

"I don't think you want to know," Anders said, hand curving around Hawke's elbow. He was looking after Cassandra, an odd expression on his face. He seemed to shake it off a few seconds later, giving Hawke a small smile and leaning into kiss his cheek. "Come on. Let's go see what else we can poke our noses into before they chase us out because it's too 'dangerous.'"

---

They'd set their tents up in the upper courtyard that night. Hawke was actually relieved for the warmth now that it meant he didn't have to do it himself to keep from freezing.

As was everyone else it seemed, especially since most didn't have the same tricks.

He saw another ghost that night, a tall figure winding its way up the stairs to the main hall. He tracked it until it disappeared through the doors, wispy white energy trailing off it.

No one else saw it, not even the agents that the ghost walked by, so he wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

Fade ghosts – or memories – weren't only visible to mages. Regular humans could see them, too.

And while Hawke had keener senses than most people and mages, that didn't explain this.

It was a thought that stayed with him even to the next morning. And then it was promptly pushed to the wayside because of the looks he saw the templars shooting Anders.

Hawke hadn't noticed them before, but he'd been busy leading the Inquisition through the mountains the past three weeks. Anders had also stuck close for most of that time except for when he'd been checking up on the injured.

Some goodwill should have been racked up thanks to Anders's actions after Haven, but he supposed that was too naïve. Mages were still feared, and Anders had a worse reputation than some.

When Cassandra beckoned him over in the late morning, Hawke followed after making sure that Varric would be staying by Anders. He didn't like the looks Anders was receiving, and templars could figure out just about anything when given enough leeway.

"We need a word in private," Cassandra told him once he joined her.

Hawke gave a pointed look around. "Not much privacy here. Unless you mean the bushes over there?"

Cassandra had an expression that could have either been "no kidding" or "Maker please." "Quite. But I don't think the bushes will be large enough for all of us. Come – Leliana has set up down here."

Leliana had set up her spymaster's tent close to where Cullen was receiving reports from his soldiers. She had an optimal view of Skyhold's front gates and was back to the large wall that blocked off the lower courtyard.

Her tent was both large enough for all of them and also had the means to block them from prying ears and eyes.

Or maybe just the eyes if there was shouting.

There was something about their body language that told Hawke he wasn't really going to like this conversation. "If one of you is going to tell me that we need to find another remote mountain base, I quit."

"What?" Cassandra sounded alarmed. "No. We will not be moving anywhere."

"For now," Cullen added. "Skyhold is more defensible than Haven. Hopefully once it's fixed up it will be what we need."

"That is not why you are here," Cassandra said evenly, meeting Hawke's eyes. "The Inquisition needs a leader."

Hawke tilted his head. "You're doing a pretty good job of it. Maybe it's not exactly traditional, but more heads are better than one. Less chance of something going wrong if one gets chopped off."

There was a wince from Cullen at the reminder.

"That…is perhaps true but not what we need." Cassandra sounded flustered. She shook her head, voice more assured now when she continued. "You most likely know that we met Varric in Kirkwall to ask him where you were."

"Interrogated, you mean?" Hawke said lightly. "He might have told me. He's still peeved about the book; it was a first edition."

Cassandra looked slightly guilty. "It was?"

"The Inquisition was just starting at that point," Leliana cut in, perhaps taking pity on Cassandra. "We were looking for the right leader. At first we looked for the Hero of Ferelden, but she was missing."

"So we looked for you," Cassandra said. "Only Varric had no idea where you were."

Which was a lie but Hawke certainly wasn't going to tell them otherwise. Still, that had been the reason behind them accosting Varric?

"Me?" Hawke couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Why me?"

"You are the Champion of Kirkwall," Cassandra answered matter-of-factly. "People would have followed you."

Hawke frowned slightly, unsettled. "You looked elsewhere," he said eventually.

"We had no choice," Leliana said. "Truthfully, we had stopped looking by the time Conclave took place. Only…" She dropped her chin, hood casting her face in shadows.

"You came," Cassandra said. "As if by divine providence. When we most needed someone, you stepped in. The Inquisition needs a leader, and it is not any of us. It needs someone who has been making the decisions from the beginning."

"You realize you're describing yourself?" Hawke said, a slight tinge of desperation in his voice. "You started the Inquisition—"

"You recruited the mages and the templars," Cassandra said.

"I didn't touch the templars—"

"I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't insisted I use my contacts," Cullen pointed out, smiling wryly.

"You led us here," Cassandra continued. "After you ensured that we made it out of Haven. Champion – Hawke," she corrected herself, "you are the Inquisitor we have been looking for. It remains only to make it official."

Now that it was said, Hawke couldn't ignore it anymore. Even joking would do nothing, although he rather wanted to laugh inappropriately.

Him? Inquisitor?

"You want to make me Inquisitor?" Hawke asked incredulously. "After what happened in Kirkwall? That was one city, and it tore itself apart because of me! You really want to put me in charge of the Inquisition?"

"Kirkwall was not your responsibility," Cullen said firmly. "What happened there was because of us." He looked grim. "The templars failed. Knight-Commander Meredith went too far. What happened that night may have been the last straw, but that wasn't you."

Hawke bit his tongue, memories of ash, smoke, burning flesh, and screams inundating him.

"I am sorry," Cullen said quietly, genuinely. "It should never have reached that point."

"It did," Hawke couldn't help but say.

"You did what you could," Cullen said. "I saw you. You did your damn best to hold Kirkwall together after the Qunari invasion. That it failed isn't because of you. And that's why I know this is the right decision."

Was it? Was it? What qualifications did Hawke have other than being the Champion of Kirkwall? A city he couldn't keep together? A city he had actively chosen to tear apart in the end?

"You don't need me," Hawke tried. "The Breach is closed."

"Corypheus is still a threat," Leliana pointed out. "You are the only one who has faced him before."

"I can do that without leading."

"You have doubts," Cassandra said, brow furrowing. "But please…trust that we have faith in you." She paused, then added, "Is that not my job? To have faith enough for both of us?"

The words, surprising as they were, startled a laugh out of Hawke. "I'm not sure if even faith is enough for this, Cassandra."

"The people follow you," Cassandra said. "Not me or Cullen. You. Would you abandon them now?"

Hawke bristled. "I'm not abandoning anyone. I'm simply questioning your decision."

"You wish to protect the mages, don't you?" Leliana asked shrewdly. "Being Inquisitor would help."

Agh, damn Leliana. She had a point. One that Hawke hadn't considered before.

Hesitating, he rubbed his hands over his face, willing the anxious fluttering in his stomach to die down.

If he took this role…leaving wouldn't be as easy as simply packing his bags and disappearing into the night. Not that he couldn't do it…but there was a lot riding on the role of Inquisitor, even if Hawke didn't know what it meant beyond being the figurehead of the organization.

Probably paperwork. And diplomacy.

He was going to end up punching someone he shouldn't before the month was over, wasn't he? Or putting his foot in his mouth because he couldn't stop himself from making an inappropriate joke.

"Fine," Hawke said finally, dropping his hands to meet their eyes. "I'll do it."

A sigh of relief seemed to sweep over them, Josephine dropping her eyes and Cassandra briefly dipping her head in what looked like could have been a prayer.

"Thank you," Cullen said, sounding as relieved as he looked. "This means a great deal."

"I'm sure," Hawke said dryly.

"It will be done later today," Josephine said, picking up a piece of parchment and looking at it.

"Wait – what?"

"It's nothing so formal as what happened in Kirkwall," Cullen told him, which didn't help Hawke feel better at all.

Being officially named Champion had been a nightmare. Even though the only thing Hawke had to do was stand there and look pretty. Meredith hadn't wanted him talking.

"It will be somewhat formal," Josephine disagreed. "An announcement needs to be made, Champion. I am sure you understand?"

"I do," Hawke said entirely truthfully and hating every moment of it. "And I'm going to leave that to you. I'm going to step out and reevaluate my life choices."

Before anyone could protest, he proceeded to do just that, heading back up the winding staircase and into his tent, ignoring the questions from Anders and Varric. Where he then let himself panic.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, head in his hands. He sat down heavily on the mats they'd been sleeping on, drawing his knees up to his chest.

He heard Anders crouch down beside him. "Hawke, what is it?"

Hawke didn't move for a long instance, face buried in his knees. Then, shaking his head, he whispered, "They want me to be Inquisitor."

A beat, and then a surprised "Oh."

"Well," Varric's voice said brightly, "can't say I saw that coming."

"What did you say?" Anders asked.

"I said yes," Hawke muttered, feeling Anders settle down beside him, shoulders brushing against his. "I wasn't going to but…the mages, Anders. I brought them here. And then there's Corypheus." He turned his head just enough to look at Anders; he couldn't read his lover's expression, which had anxiety twisting his stomach into knots. "I don't know if it's the right decision…"

Anders huffed. "Whatever happened to checking out the Conclave and leaving?"

"It blew up," Hawke offered.

"Shame." Anders lapsed back into silence, but this time he touched Hawke's shoulder, fingers gentle.

"I can go back out and tell them no," Hawke said quietly, arms tightening around his legs.

"No," Anders said immediately, fingers squeezing briefly. "It – maybe it's a mistake. But we can't leave things here. It wouldn't be right."

"It doesn't have to be me," Hawke said, digging his fingers into his legs. "We can stay for now, but it could be someone else."

"Who?" Varric asked.

"Fuck, Cassandra? She helped get it started—"

"I like Seeker now that she's not stabbing my books, but she can't take two steps without checking with Nightingale, Curly, and Ruffles. I don't think we've got that kind of time. She would've left the mages in Redcliffe if you hadn't insisted on going."

"And now they're here," Hawke said. "As are the templars. I can't just – I can't just leave them. But what if what happened in Kirkwall—"

"I don't see any insane Knight-Commanders running around," Varric said offhandedly. "Yeah, there's the red lyrium, but no one's carrying around a giant sword made of it. I hope."

Hawke managed a weak smile. "Not that I've noticed."

"If you do want to leave," Anders said, "then we will. But don't do it because of me."

"Anders—"

"I can handle the templars." Anders's smile was slightly shaky, which didn't help convince Hawke at all. "Besides, there are a lot of other mages here. It'll be fine." He slid closer, slinging his arm around Hawke's neck to pull him in. "I think we can do a lot of good here. More than we could while on the run with just the two of us."

Hawke pressed his nose to Anders's neck, letting his smell calm his roiling nerves. "I don't know if I'm the right choice," he said quietly. "Me – leading this?"

"I know you are."

"I'm going to agree with Blondie on this." Varric seemed slightly disgruntled to be admitting this. "I can't think of another person who'd do it better."

Fucking anyone else.

But Hawke didn't say anything, closing his eyes and hiding his face in Anders's neck.

The decision was made. He supposed all that was left was for it to be made official.

---

Blackwall came up to Hawke shortly before the official announcement about the Inquisitor title was going to be made. Maybe there was something on Hawke's face that said "Please talk to me before I go and fling myself off the nearest battlement," since Cole had already tried to comfort him by rambling about how people were inspired by him; the Iron Bull had given him a drink that he'd downed in one go much to the other's amusement; Solas had offered him a pat on the arm; and Dorian had suggested getting drunk later that night.

Hawke would be taking Dorian up on that offer as soon as he stopped panicking.

"It's good that you have doubts," Blackwall told him, mirroring Hawke's stance with his folded arms.

"Is it?" Hawke didn't think it'd be a good show to have the would-be Inquisitor stutter and stumble through their acceptance speech.

"It keeps you grounded," Blackwall said. "Knowing that you may not be the best choice…it keeps you working to prove that you are."

Hawke hadn't thought of it that way before.

"I know you'll do good," Blackwall said encouragingly. "Even before I knew who you were, I knew you had the marks of a leader."

"That's…thanks, Blackwall." Hawke stared up at the stairs where Cassandra and Leliana were conferring. Was that a sword in Leliana's hands?

"A word of advice if I may?"

"Please."

"Keep it short. Less chance of mucking things up." Blackwall offered him a small grin.

"I definitely will," Hawke managed, glad that his voice didn't die on him when Cassandra beckoned him over at the foot of the stairs.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Hawke gave her a look. "I'm never ready, but let's not keep them waiting."

"You have led us this far," Cassandra said. "I have faith you will lead us further yet. Or do you not believe me?"

"I…do." Hawke rubbed a hand over his mouth, keenly aware of the people congregated in both courtyards. "I just worry that faith is misplaced."

"I would be terrified handing this power to anyone," Cassandra said frankly. "But I know who you are. Legends or not, you are the man I trust to lead the Inquisition."

"All right." Hawke looked up the stairs to where Leliana was standing. "Let's do this."

Every step further felt like signing his own death warrant, although he was probably exaggerating. Even the distraction of the magic woven into Skyhold's ground couldn't distract him.

Let alone the two ghosts that briefly appeared at the very top. Hawke glanced at them before turning his attention to Leliana and the sword she was holding out to him.

"Last chance to take it back," Hawke said, trying for a lighthearted tone.

"We will not." Cassandra stepped to the side, giving him a half-smile.

The sword glinted in the sunlight, almost taunting him. Taking a breath to bolster himself, Hawke grabbed hold of the hilt, relieved that it wasn't as heavy as it looked like it should be.

Slowly turning, he tried not to notice how many eyes were on him. That Anders and Varric were part of the crowd was only slightly reassuring.

Remembering Blackwall's advice, Hawke searched for the right words, for the message he wanted to convey. The reason for why he had accepted the title. "The Inquisition is for all," he said, raising his voice enough to ensure it carried. He was glad it didn't crack. "Mage, elf, dwarf, Qunari… We're in this together. The Inquisition isn't just one man; it's all of us."

It did rather feel like signing his own death warrant.

Even if it was exaggerating.

---

Once all the pomp and circumstance was over with, Hawke gladly abdicated the giant sword that held no redeeming value except for looking suitably shiny. But then he was dragged up the rest of the stairs and to the main hall, which everyone had been telling him to stay away from because it was dangerous.

It was probably no longer as dangerous.

Pushing open the large ornate doors, Hawke had enough time to take in the enormous hall they revealed before a chandelier crashed to the floor with a loud metallic shriek.

Hawke flinched back, bumping into Cullen.

Cullen steadied him, asking, "What is it?"

Blinking, Hawke found that the chandelier he'd seen crash to the ground was lying several feet from where it had landed, and it looked far dustier than expected considering what he'd just seen.

Only…had it had happened now?

"Rats," Hawke eventually said, mentally shaking himself and walking forward. "Or at least I thought I saw one."

It was dirty enough for the lie to be plausible, debris and dust everywhere.

Whispers reached his ears, quiet enough that he couldn't make out the words unless he strained his hearing. Only when he tried to find the source of them, there was no sign of anyone else.

Hawke's eyes reached the far end of the hall, where a ghostly figure was standing by a window. It was cloaked, so all he could make out was its slender frame.

Making as if he was exploring the main hall, Hawke slowly approached the ghost. But it disappeared before he'd crossed half of the hall. This time he did hear clear words, although they were in no language he was fluent in.

"Dareth shiral."

As if on cue, another ghost appeared by him, walking towards the entrance. He couldn't make out any distinguishing features due to the hooded cloak shielding the face, but his gut told him it was an elf.

"Inquisitor?" Josephine asked tentatively, following his gaze but seeing presumably nothing. Her face didn't register any surprise.

"It's big," was all Hawke said, shrugging loosely. "And we haven't even seen all of it yet." He glanced to the doors that were blocked by rubble.

How many other ghosts were hidden in Skyhold?

One walked on the balcony above their heads. Hawke ignored it in favor of looking at the others.

"Here is where it begins," Cullen said, looking around.

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana disagreed. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

"But what do we do?" Josephine asked. "We know next to nothing about this Corypheus beyond what you have told us." She indicated Hawke.

"Not entirely true," Hawke said. "We know where he's going to be. Do you remember Redcliffe?"

"The assassination of Empress Celene," Leliana noted.

"Imagine the chaos her death would cause…" Josephine sounded wondering. "With his army…"

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons," Cullen added, "or so the future tells us."

"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god," Josephine concluded, looking back at Hawke.

"That's not going to happen," Hawke said flatly. "We know his next steps, so we just need to move first."

"When could he assassinate Empress Celene?" Cullen asked, turning to Leliana and Cassandra. "It isn't as if he can just walk into the Winter Palace and do it himself."

Leliana let out a low laugh. "Undoubtedly he has spies in place. But you're right." She glanced at Hawke. "From what you told us, Corypheus will want an audience. He won't settle for a simple assassination in the dark."

"Oh!" Josephine raised her hands to her mouth, pressing her fingers together as a large smile spread across her face. "The Grand Masquerade!"

If something had Josephine this excited, Hawke probably wasn't going to like it. "You don't mean the fun type of masquerade, do you?"

"With the urging of Duchess Florianne, Empress Celene is hosting peace talks under the auspices of the masquerade," Josephine said. "It has been the talk of Orlais for weeks. Every power in Orlais will be there. It's perfect for an assassin."

"Then we need to be at that ball," Cullen said. "When is it?"

"Two months," Josephine said. "But…arranging an invitation will not be easy. Especially on short notice such as this." She looked frustrated, bringing a hand up to pull lightly at her bun. "I will need to see what can be done."

"We will likely need more of a presence in Orlais to secure an invitation," Leliana said slowly.

"We'll get it," Hawke said. "In the meantime, Josephine will see about getting invitations. As for the rest of us…we'll shore up Skyhold and make sure what happened at Haven can't happen again."

"You sent him running once," Cullen said. "I doubt he'll be so quick as to try again."

"And I thought he was dead," Hawke said dryly. "I've learned not to make assumptions with him."

"Quite." Cullen hesitated, then said, "If you could, perhaps taking some missions would help bolster Inquisition forces. We lost many in Haven, and it would help raise morale."

This was something Hawke was more familiar with after his dog-and-pony show in Kirkwall. Meredith had had him running far too many errands to keep the "peace." "I'll see what I can do."

It wouldn't be too bad this time. Not if it meant leaving Skyhold and its mysterious ghosts behind.

---

The next week saw Hawke leaving for the Fallow Mire on horseback with Anders, Varric, and Blackwall. Inquisition solders had gone missing, and they couldn't spare the resources for anything else. Scout Harding had also sent word that the Avaar in the region wanted to meet with the Herald of Andraste personally.

This was all very true.

What would probably be lost to history unless Varric put it into his next book were the corpse-infested swamps and how Hawke repeatedly fell into them because he couldn't watch his feet since he was too distracted by the wraiths and wisps that kept floating around him.

It wasn't very heroic, so it was entirely possible that it would be forgotten and relegated to blackmail material that would be pulled out during nights of Wicked Grace.

What would be remembered was the "epic smack down" Hawke had given the Avaar. With his status as a mage out in the open, he could pull out his flashier tricks. Like electrocuting the offending Avaar before the big one could get his maul anywhere near hitting distance.

The Inquisition soldiers rescued, Hawke could leave the Fallow Mire behind and return to Skyhold.

Which was great, since Hawke wasn't exactly a fan of bogs, swamps, mires, or anything else resembling them. The nonstop rain hadn't helped, and none of his clothes had been dry since he entered the Fallow Mire.

Probably the only good thing about the trip aside from rescuing the hapless soldiers was getting to know Blackwall better..

Cassandra had been torn about coming, but in the end she'd decided it would be better for her to stay and help organize efforts at rebuilding Skyhold. Solas had been too busy investigating the fortress and Hawke hadn't wanted to disturb him. Dorian had been too engrossed in the library and the musty books to be torn away. Cole was still invested in making sure the templars and mages didn't fight. As for the Iron Bull…no.

Traveling in such a small group with three other people – two of them being close friends – had been rather familiar and extremely nostalgic. The main difference was that there was no fighting about mages vs. templars or blood magic.

Card games had been unfortunately out thanks to the constant rain of the Fallow Mire, but there were other games to be had. Like trying to see who could slug each other with the biggest mud ball.

Scout Harding had a mean arm, and Hawke was still finding mud in his hair. (It was probably also from falling into the mire all the time.)

Hawke had been trying to flush the mud out of his boots with an arrow he'd filched from Varric when Anders struck up a conversation with Blackwall about the Wardens. It had been inevitable after Anders's identity came out, although there'd been too little privacy before to discuss it.

As it was, Hawke still wasn't sure he was supposed to overhear it.

"You hear it, don't you? The music."

"And if I do? It doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it? He gets into your head, you know. So loud you can't hear anything but the music, so loud you can't remember who you are except for what he wants you to think. Still think it doesn't change anything?"

"Is that what happened to you?"

"I lost myself for a time. Almost killed my friends because Justice couldn't… Hawke brought me back."

Hawke had to close his eyes then, the feel of the rain gently beating against him the only sensation grounding him in the present and not in the Deep Roads. Where he'd almost—

"I'm not possessed by a spirit, Anders."

"No, but that doesn't mean he can't get into your head – isn't in there right now."

"If I know what it is, what do I have to fear? What do you have to fear? You're a Warden; darkspawn are what we kill."

"Maybe I have what makes me a Warden, but that doesn't mean I am one. I haven't been around Wardens in years. I left that behind me when I went to Kirkwall."

"…You don't like the Wardens." Blackwall had sounded surprised.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. They're good at doing what they need to. Warden-Commander Cousland's a friend, but everyone else? They're all about focusing on what needs to be done and keeping secrets and throwing away personal items because it makes us 'soft.' Cousland was an exception, helping people where she could and trying to make things better, but she didn't stay. The Grey Wardens that you know aren't the Order I'm familiar with."

"They might have changed. I haven't exactly been with the Order myself recently."

"Maybe." Anders had paused then for a long moment, giving Hawke enough time to prod around his boots and give up on fishing the mud out before he spoke again. "If it were like that, I think I would have liked being a Warden."

Hawke had made his presence known at this point but hadn't brought the conversation up with Anders. There were some things even he didn't know about Anders's past, and the details of his life as a Warden were one of them.

Hawke hadn't even known being a Warden came with a time limit until encountering Larius in the Deep Roads.

In any case, they were out of the Fallow Mire, although Hawke still had mud in his boots and probably in his shirt.

The entire trip took about a week and a half with them pushing their horses, and Hawke was glad to be back in Skyhold by the end of it. The keep looked different already, scaffolding having been erected in several locations, that one bridge repaired, and rubble cleared out to open the lower courtyard. It also revealed the stables.

The main hall looked entirely different as well, the debris gone and tables and chairs set up along the walls.

Skyhold looked more like a proper base and less like the ruins they'd been originally.

The ghosts were unfortunately still there.

Hawke supposed it was a good thing that they could be more easily ignored considering how many people were wandering around. They didn't show up all the time either, and it was never the same memory that he saw.

"I see the healers have moved," Anders said, looking to where the healer's tent was standing where Leliana's tent had been. "Only they're still outside."

"I'll have them moved," Hawke said, scanning the battlements and several towers that looked to be in bad shape. "Being Inquisitor should be good for something."

"Paperwork?" Varric offered.

"Shh. If we don't bring it up, they might forget."

"Or you can toss it in the fire. That's what I do."

"Didn't you hear?" Blackwall said. "That's what causes paperwork to multiply."

Varric put on an offended face. "Say it ain't so!"

Rolling his shoulders, Hawke set his staff up by the wall where Cullen's table was set up. He missed his daggers; there hadn't been any time to get new ones. He was lucky that there'd been a set of armor that he could borrow.

But everyone expected him to carry a staff now. It wasn't like he was hiding anymore.

"Stop looking at your staff like it's offended you," Anders said. "It hasn't done anything."

"It exists." Hawke did stop glaring at the staff. Which had done something since it had been the key to Corypheus's prison. It also looked ugly.

"Yes, and without it you wouldn't have been able to beat to death a few dozen corpses."

"They were already dead," Hawke said.

"You made them deader."

"Are we talking corpses?" Varric asked. "It's a shame Sparkler wasn't there; corpses are right up his alley."

A dog was barking, the sound loud enough to cut through the random chatter of the people around them.

Hawke hadn't known someone had brought a dog in.

"I hope it's a mabari," he said to Anders, smiling wistfully.

"Of course you would." Anders had his brow furrowed, but he didn't sound displeased. "Couldn't it have been a cat instead?"

No one was quieting the dog, and the barking seemed to be getting louder.

Hawke turned in the direction of the sound, hoping to see the dog. He hadn't seen any for ages; the rabid mabari encountered in the Hinterlands didn't count.

But the dog wasn't anywhere in the courtyard, and the people around him were beginning to wear expressions of confusion and aggravation.

Hawke moved sideways, slowly approaching the open gate.

"Maybe you shouldn't get too close," Blackwall warned, clearly also remembering the rabid mabari of the Hinterlands.

"I don't—" Hawke broke off when he saw the mabari barging through the gates. The mabari saw him as well, making a direct beeline to him, and Hawke recognized him just before he was pounced on. "Hessarian, no—!"

A fully-grown war dog was as large as a dwarf, and Hessarian had always been on the larger side. What's more, Hessarian was fully capable of taking down a grown man in five seconds flat.

Hawke found himself sprawled on his back in the grass, an enthusiastic tongue slobbering his face.

"Not being attacked then?" Anders sounded amused.

"I missed you, too," Hawke crooned, rubbing at Hessarian's ears. He had to close his eyes as Hessarian licked his face again, turning it so that he could speak. "But what are you doing here?"

After another moment of enthusiastic whining and licking, Hawke managed to push Hessarian off him enough so he could sit up, still keeping one hand in his fur. "You didn't walk all this way by yourself, did you?"

He'd left Hessarian with Carver, and there was no way that Hessarian would have abandoned Carver.

Which only meant…

His brother was here.

---

He was…numb. There wasn't any other way for him to explain it.

The anger had burnt itself out the moment he'd buried the dagger in Quentin's forehead. The grief had… Well, he suspected that was still there, but he didn't know.

Pressing his forehead into his hands, he closed his eyes.

Yet he couldn't miss the quiet footsteps.

"Gamlen told me," Carver's voice said flatly.

He didn't say anything, unmoving.

"He told me Mother's dead."

He restrained a flinch, squeezing his eyes shut at the sight of his mother's mutilated body.

There was the sound of Carver pacing for several moments before he stopped. "Well?" There was quivering fury in his tone. "Do you have nothing to say?"

He swallowed dryly, dropping his hands to between his knees. He didn't look up. "What should I say?"

"Something!" Carver snapped.

"Something," he repeated dully.

There was a snarl, and then the sound of something shattering. Maybe that atrocious vase Isabela had snuck in. "Don't do that!"

He looked up now, unsurprised to see Carver's face flushed with anger and his eyes glittering. "What should I do, Carver? What do you want from me?"

"You were supposed to protect her!" Carver shouted. "That's why we came to Kirkwall, isn't it? So she would be safe?"

And happy, he couldn't say, the words sticking in his throat. Had she ever been happy?

"I'm sorry," he said instead.

"Don't be sorry," Carver said acerbically. "Why didn't you fix it?"

"Anders couldn't—"

"Hang Anders!" Carver snarled. "Why didn't you fix it? You're the mage, brother!"

"I can't bring the dead back. I can't heal, Carver."

"Why was she dead in the first place?" Carver's voice cracked on the last word. He paused, jaw flexing. "How could you let that happen? You knew what was going on! That there was someone preying on women. You knew!"

But he hadn't known they were after their mother. He hadn't known who they were, having only taken care of an accomplice rather than the actual party responsible.

"I tried—" he started.

Carver slammed his hands down on the desk by the wall. "Trying isn't good enough! You tried to save Bethany, and look what happened there! She died! And now Mother's dead, too!"

He couldn't help the flinch, swallowing thickly past the stone lodged in his throat. "I know," was all he could manage when it became clear Carver was waiting for a response.

"You know?" Carver echoed incredulously. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry? I am sorry. I didn't want this to happen? I—"

"It's your fault!" Carver snapped. "You haven't said that. You weren't fast enough. You didn't save her. What the bloody hell is your magic good for if you couldn't save Mother? You failed Bethany, and now you failed her, too."

He didn't move, breath stuck in his lungs as the sickening sounds of bones cracking and a body squelching filled his ears, along with a cut off scream.

"Bethany!"

Carver wanted him to say something but he – he couldn't. Words failed him, bile rising in his throat and his magic all too close to the surface.

Slumping forwards, he pressed his fingers to his eyes, bidding himself to take several deep breaths, willing the magic down before he did something he would regret. His muscles trembled, fine tremors that he could feel through his fingers.

"I'm leaving," Carver said after a long moment. "Before you get me killed, too."

His breath punched out of him in a ragged exhale, sparks of magic scattering over his skin. He heard something shatter next to him, but Carver was already gone.

The fine trembles had worsened to full-body shudders, his hands moving to fist his hair as he curled in on himself, face pressed to his knees.

"My little boy has become so strong. I love you. You've always made me so proud."

A wretched sob wrenched itself free. Followed by another and then even more, as if a dam had broken. As soon as it started, he couldn't stop the tears from flowing, chest choking with everything that he just could not say.

He was sorry, he was so sorry, he was so damn sorry—

"Maker, Hawke, love—"

He startled at the touch, Anders's familiar fingers gently prying his fingers loose from their death grip in his hair. "A-Anders—"

"Bodahn found me," Anders said quietly, voice low and right in front of him. "I was on my way up anyway but – that doesn't matter."

He grabbed hold of Anders's hands before he could withdraw, terror rising in him before he could shove it down.

Anders didn't flinch, squeezing back. "What did he say?" There was an indiscernible note in his voice, but the Fade sparked around him in anger.

He didn't lift his head from where it was resting on his knees, not wanting to see whatever would be on Anders's face. "Nothing I didn't know was true."

"Bullshit." Anders's grip didn't tighten, but he knelt in front of Hawke. "What did he say?"

"It's my fault," he said, voice cracking halfway through. "It's my—"

The scent and taste of the Fade was painfully strong, and Anders's voice reverberated. "It was not."

His hands tingled where Anders gripped them. "If I'd just been faster—"

"You worked as quickly as you could once you realized what happened. What else could you have done, Hawke?"

He took a moment to respond, shoulders shuddering sporadically. "I could have caught him sooner."

"You didn't know what he was doing. You didn't know who he was."

"I knew he was doing something—"

Anders's grip did tighten now. "It wasn't your job. It was Aveline's as guard captain."

"It was my job to protect her." And Bethany.

Anders didn't say anything for a long choking moment. Then, "Look at me."

He didn't move immediately, chest squeezing uncomfortably. He didn't know what he would see on Anders's face.

"Look at me, love," Anders repeated, voice gentler.

He did look now, lifting his head to meet Anders's eyes. His breath stuttered when he saw the watery smile on Anders's face. When Anders cupped his face, his skin tingled at the touch.

"I'm sorry this happened," Anders said, thumbs wiping away the stray tears on his cheeks. "Your mother – your mother was amazing. She didn't deserve what happened. But that wasn't your fault. You didn't do it. Maybe – maybe we could have been faster. Maybe there was something I could have done if we'd been there earlier. Maybe—" He dropped his chin, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated.

"You don't know that it wasn't," he snapped. "I wasn't fast enough to save Bethany, and I couldn't save Mother!"

"She wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

Anger burnt hot in his stomach, and he threw Anders's touch off before he could rethink the motion, jerking back from him. "You don't know what she would do."

She'd blamed him for Bethany's death, too.

Anders's eyes pinched, but there was no other reaction from him. "You're right." The words were slightly strained. "I don't. Not really. But I know she loved you. And I know Carver is a royal ass." He didn't reach out to touch, his hands tightening where they'd fallen on the armrests. "And even if you don't believe me…can you trust that I'm here for you?"

He pulled in ragged breaths, heart hurting with every beat, eyes meeting Anders's. Nodding stiltedly, he was able to remain somewhat composed for another second before surging forwards to grab hold of Anders, unable to stop the tears that came again.

Anders's arms tightened around him, reassuringly steady.

Please don't let him lose Anders. Please.

---

All right, so now the mystery behind Carver and Hawke's strained relationship is revealed! The last flashback takes place in Act 2 before the Qunari start rampaging through Kirkwall. And thus also before Hawke releases Corypheus. As for the first one, I didn't have a specific time frame in mind, except obviously after they get together. So it could be set in-between Act 2 and 3 or sometime in Act 2.

Anders's new relationship with Justice after Solas and Cole came into the picture is going to be revealed slowly.

This is also the point in the story where timing becomes more important. Thedas is large, and we have the Inquisition all over the map in the game. That takes travel time! Nothing is actually pointed out in the game itself, but I did some outside research by looking at other fans' math and the actual map to try and figure out reasonable travel times from point A to point B.

Next chapter we're obviously going to see some Carver Hawke in the present day! And it only took 100,000+ words to get here.

Please let me know what you thought! And thanks for your patience in the meantime while I get the next arc of the story set up.