We're halfway back across Orlais when Cassandra finally pulls her horse alongside mine. The weeks have passed like blur as I forget everything. I wake after restless nights, mount my horse and order the troops onwards. That's been my routine. I think I like routine. If I can keep it up, this same and familiar routine of movements, it won't be much longer until we're back at Skyhold. We ride in companionable silence for a few miles before she gives up her waiting game.

"You want to talk about it?" she asks in her blunt voice.

I glance at her, urging my horse onwards. "No."

She sighs through her nose and even though I'm not looking, I know she's rolling her eyes. "I'm not getting a replacement."

"Then why bother?" I demand.

"You need to stop belittling yourself, Cullen."

"And you presume too much, Cassandra," I counter, and dig my heels in, the horse galloping ahead.

The Seeker chases me until I relent, my arms and legs weak from the travel and the withdrawal. I am not fit enough for this. But when she slows to a trot beside me she remains silent, and we continue in stony silence along the roads. All that can be heard is the soft sound of hour horses' hooves on the paths, an occasional bird singing in the trees and the low hum of a moving army behind us. We only speak on the weather, the terrain and logistics of making camp just off the road. With much effort, I dismount, hiding the pain in my joints with a firm grimace. It's not lost on Cassandra, who huffs under her breath, but daren't say a word. Camp is erected swiftly and the rest of the Inner Circle who didn't travel with the Inquisitor arrive and help out - the army setting up camp behind us.

When Cassandra finally speaks an hour or so later, it's a topic I did not expect.

"So…you and the Inquisitor…?" she asks, eyebrow cocked.

I sit by the campfire, idly cleaning my blade to keep my hands busy. "Yes…" I'm starting to think that the other topic would be easier to talk about than this.

Cassandra hums thoughtfully as she chews on a mouthful of salted meat. "Well it's about time. Dorian and Varric have been taking bets for months now."

"Months?" I repeat, momentarily distracted.

She chuckles and the mood lightens. Perhaps she's taken the hint to drop the earlier topic. "I'm pleased for you Cullen - and for her. I'm just annoyed neither of you saw fit to tell me!"

"It's really not anyone's business," I say.

There's a cackle from behind us. "Oooh yeah, 'cause snoggin' on the battlements is reeeeeeally subtle."

Sera saunters over, eating an apple off a small knife.

"Really? On the battlements?" Cassandra says, eyes wide. "How romantic," she sighs.

"Mmm hmm," Sera nods gleefully. "Oh! I remember Varric tellin' me you love this sorta shit. Well, rumour has it-"

"Maker's breath!" I exclaim, my face burning. I rise and retreat to my tent, sheathing my sword. One look over my shoulder and I see Sera and Cassandra lean in close to one other - Sera no doubt exaggerating the already flippant gossip that's spreading through the barracks. And to my dismay, Cassandra is hanging on to her every word. Maker's breath indeed.

I pull the tent flap down firmly and take my armour off - exhaustion setting in. Perhaps tonight I will be able to sleep better. The gallop to the camp with Cassandra has made me feel weak and lethargic. Maybe exhausting myself is the best way I can get sleep when the withdrawals are this bad? When my need for lyrium and being surrounded by it is torture? As I lie on the bedroll, sleep does come surprisingly quickly. But it's not dreamless.

Once again, I stand in that familiar Harrowing Chamber, expecting at any moment to see either the Hero of Ferelden or the Inquisitor die in front of me. But I am alone, forgotten in solitude and it's more terrifying than before, knowing I am lost and alone. I spin on the spot, my vision blurred in the Fade, as the edges of the chamber begin to diminish. Darkness envelopes me, and I open my mouth to scream, hoping to wake up, but I do not. No sound comes out, even though my lungs exhale with a scream, my neck tight and painful.

"Cullen…?"

There's a whisper, so small and subtle in the Fade, I believe it a trick. I squeeze my eyes tight shut, not wanting to suffer this darkness, and dreading what I'll see if I open my eyes. The voice is light, clear and cuts through the darkness. Oh, I am tempted to look, I know I am, but it be a demon.

My silent screams halt when there's a refreshingly cold touch on my cheek. I gasp, peeling my eyes open to be blinded by the stunning white light before me. I blink several times, finding the touch on my face familiar and, oh, how I want to fall and let it take me - but with ever fibre of my strength I still resist. This could be a demon, close to wrapping its claws around me. It's only when the light before me says my name once more, do I see the strange ethereal being change form, mimicking the lithe and slender features of the Inquisitor.

I close my eyes again, feeling tears sting the corners. "Please, not again," I gasp.

But the hand on my cheek stays, a soft and gentle thumb tracing my cheekbone fondly. "Cullen, it's me," the voice says, and it's unmistakably Lyla's.

"It can't be," I say through gritted teeth, terrified my resolve will break. This is the hardest temptation yet.

"Open your eyes," her voice hums gently. I find my breathing slow, my panic receding. "Open your eyes and see where we are," she says.

And I do. Maker help me, I do.

Lyla stands before me, concern etched on her pretty face but this does not seem like the Fade. Indeed, it appears as if we are at Skyhold, on the battlements where we first kissed. I look about me, the little details starting to form around us, including the cracks in the walls, the ivy weaving through the stonework and when I look down I see Lyla's delicate vallaslin trace her cheeks with stunning clarity. She's so close, I can smell strawberries - it all seems so real.

"It's really me, Cullen," she smiles, tears in her eyes too. "Well sort of…" Something caught between a smile and a sob makes me hesitate. I gingerly wipe a tear away as it falls, now past the point in caring if this is a demon ready to ensnare me. I feel no pain, only a light chest as I look down at her, her cool hand still cupping my cheek, just like she did before she left for Emprise du Lion.

"How…" I begin.

Lyla smiles, a smile so bright I'm almost blinded again. "I've been learning to manipulate the Fade. I'm sorry to intrude on your dreams."

I choke back a chuckle. "Don't be sorry. My dreams are never this… this real," I say, struggling for words. I look around us again, but we are alone on the battlements. If it weren't for the fact that there was no noise and no sound of a busy keep, I would think this entirely real. "Is it really you?"

"Sort of. You're asleep and dreaming and I am too - through my manipulation of the Fade, I've managed to find you in your dreams," she explains patiently. "I thought I would choose a place that's familiar to both of us."

I nod wearily. "Forgive my hesitancy, but I still cannot believe you."

She entwines her cool hands with my own. "Are you're dreams always so dark?"

"Yes," I reply. "Without lyrium they are worse. But this… this is better," I sigh, relaxing. There's no throbbing in my head, no ache in my joints, only a longing for her.

As if reading my thoughts Lyla takes a step closer. "I miss you."

Our lips brush and a lump catches in my throat. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in, relishing this moment. But a distant voice whispering Lyla's name distracts us both. It's persistent and familiar.

"I have to go," she says quietly. "Dorian is trying to wake me up, I think."

"Please," I begin, but she's slipping.

"You should wake up too," she says, stepping back.

"I don't want to," I admit, reaching out to take her hands, but she pulls away reluctantly.

"I'll meet you back at Skyhold," Lyla affirms before disappearing. The battlements start to evaporate around me and I leave the Fade.

As I wake, I'm aware that it's almost natural. I open my eyes, staring at the canvas above me, my headache is present but bearable. The dream is still clear in my mind and my chest feels lighter. For the first time in a long while, I feel rested and not drenched in night sweats. As I dress and don my armour, the dream is all that's on my mind - it had seemed so real. I've got a stupid smile on my face and to be honest, even if Lyla didn't actually visit me in the Fade, that dream was the best I've had for years.

My smile fades when I step out of the tent in the early morning sunrise to see Solas sat cross-legged by the dwindling campfire. He doesn't even look up when he says; "Good dream?"

What the…?I look down at him, shifting my weight between my feet. "Excuse me…?"

He flicks his eyes up at me then back to the glowing fire. "The Inquisitor needs to learn to control her dreams," he says. "She's projecting so much that every mage within the vicinity will have seen your dream."

"I thought you had been teaching her," I say thickly, ignoring the pit opening in my gut. So it had been real.

"You could say that," Solas replies with a bitter laugh. "Tell me, Commander, does she know that you pray to your lyrium box everyday, wanting to be put back on that leash?"

I grip the hilt of my sword, anger making my hands shake. I open my mouth to reply but Sera stands at my elbow, toying with her bow, giving Solas a hard look.

"That's none of your friggin' business," she sneers.

The apostate mage slowly gets to his feet and backs out of the camp with a faint smile on his face, making my anger flare again.

"Thanks," I mutter to Sera.

"Anytime," she nods. And I think this is the start of a strange arrangement between us. I'm beginning to see why Lyla is counting this curious elf as one of her closest friends. Although why Solas remains part of the Inquisition is something I am far from understanding.

The final part of the journey back to Skyhold is partially uneventful. I remember my dream with Lyla with fondness, even though Lady Vivienne approaches me and gives me a lecture about private dreams and the like. But she's sincere in her concern, hoping that the enemy do not find out how close the Inquisitor and Commander are becoming. I flush at her words, which earns me an affectionate (I think?) pat on my arm. Her words ring in my ears, and even though I'm desperate for Lyla to visit me in the Fade again, I try not to sleep, unless riding on my horse during the day. Sleeping in the saddle is a skill I've come to acquire quite naturally, and one I'm not taking for granted.

But it's not proper sleep, not really. And by the time we arrive in the Frostback mountains, less than a day away from Skyhold, I'm more exhausted than I've ever been. The journey has been tough for me, my lyrium withdrawal constantly on my mind. I took steps to avoid Solas as much as possible, and it seems he's done the same. His hostility towards me is something I'm going to have to puzzle out another time, but for now I can't let that distract me. I focus all of my energy of completing the journey in one piece and of seeing Lyla back at Skyhold.

Only that she is not here.

I stride up to the main keep, taking two steps at a time upon arrival and bustle my way to the War Room, ignoring the clicking of tongues from nobles in the main hall. I push the doors open to see Leliana and Josephine in a deep discussion which is immediately halted with my presence.

"The Inquisitor has not returned," I say. It's not a question.

The ladies exchange a glance before Leliana slides a missive across the table. I snatch it up instantly.

Advisors, it reads:

Emprise du Lion is in a dire state: we need more troops here to help with the relief effort. This place is colder than Skyhold.

Successfully raided Sarhnia Quarry and found evidence of Samson's plans: copies of which I've enclosed. However, local residents were being used to mine raw red lyrium with many going mad. Rescue efforts are in place, but we need more support.

On the morrow, with the help of Michel de Chalons, we will assault Suledin Keep and end the Red Templar threat on Emprise once and for all.

We will most likely be delayed by a few weeks but will return as soon as matters here are settled.

Inquisitor Lyla Lavellen, Herald of Andraste

I look up. "We must send aid," I say immediately.

"I dispatched my forward scouts ahead this morning but I fear we may be too late to assist," Leliana spreads her hands. "It seems this messenger bird was intercepted and delayed in reaching us."

I feel numb. "Then we are too late, and they could've… could be…dea-"

"If the assault has failed, we would've had word by now," Leliana explains calmly. "And my spies have reported no such thing."

Josephine scribbles a note on a piece of parchment. "And I've written to local nobility and urged their assistance, following our success at Adamant."

"So what, we wait? See what happens? You can't be serious!" I slam my fist on the war table, making some of the strategically placed pieces fall over. Josephine jumps back at my outburst whilst Leliana watches me, her expression totally unreadable.

"I suggest you take rest this evening, Commander," Leliana says. "One way or another, we shall know in the next day or so."

I swear under my breath before picking up a stack of reports on the table. "I'll be in my office - make sure I'm not disturbed," I sigh wearily, sweeping out of the room, the papers shaking in my hands, my legs weak.

I'm not sure how, but I do make it back to my office before I stumble and fall on the floor. I lie with my cheek pressed to the flagstones, papers splayed out before me and I do not move. Maker knows I can't do this anymore. I don't know how long I lie here, barely comfortable, barely able to breath with my weight pressing on my chest piece against the floor. But, graciously, no troops enter my office. I mentally thank Leliana for that small blessing.

It's dark when there's a hammering at the door behind me. I grunt and try to rise, rubbing m head. Over the last few hours, my mind had been blank and that's almost as scary as dreaming. I felt no emotion, no desire, no nothing. Just emptiness and, sometimes, that low and terrible song.

The door behind me bursts open as I get to my knees, feeling sweat trickle down my back.

"Maker's balls," Blackwall's voice says, approaching my side.

"Give me a hand, will you?" Cassandra says and both warriors take an arm and help me to my feet.

"Reports…" I mumble, looking at the mess all over the stone floor.

"Later, later," Cassandra soothes. "You need to get some rest. Think you can get up the ladder?"

I nod dumbly and they help me up. I thank them wearily before collapsing on my bed, letting the Fade envelope me.

The sunlight streams through the hole in the ceiling, blinking me awake. I ignore it for as long as possible, but it persists. Gingerly, I sit up in my bed, feeling lethargic and unwilling to leave.

"You test the chains but it hurts. Failure. Disappointment. Pain when you're awake and asleep." Cole's soft voice says from the corner of my room. The boy sits with his knees up to his chest, watching me with those empty grey eyes through the wispy strands of his hair. "She wants to help, but can't unless you tell her," he continues.

I run my hands through my hair before answering. "What are you doing here Cole?" my voice is scratchy, it hurts to talk.

"I want to help," he replies, unblinking. "I can make you forget, if you like."

It's tempted. Maker knows that forgetting would be the best way to get me back not he right path. But then I remember all of those terrible crimes I'm guilty for, of turning a blind eye to in Kirkwall. As much as I want to forget those images and be rid of the burden of guilt, the fact of the matter is that those who have been effected will never forget, so why should I?

"No, Cole. But… thank you."

"I want to help," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "Will you tell her?"

I let out a long sigh. "Yes, I'll tell her."

"Good," he smiles. "She's fire and ice. Cold to the touch but warms your heart. She makes you feel safe and strong."

The boy disappears moments later as I mull on his words. It is rather unnerving to have the boy-spirit so close, but at the same time, it is clear that he's trying to help. Lyla trusts him, so I must do also.

I find my head pounding once I'm dressed and back in my armour. It takes a lot of effort to slide down my ladder and the first place I go is towards the smithy's. I ignore the training recruits, and they're sensible enough to give me a wide birth as I pass through. Of course, Cassandra is right where I expect her - slashing the start dummies in the training yard.

"A word?" I say, heading into the smithy, gripping the pommel of my sword to keep my hands from shaking. I hear her drop her sword to the ground before following me inside.

"Out: all of you," she orders to the workers standing idly. They don't need telling twice and skirt past us both, closing the door behind them with a thud. She then turns on me. "Glad to see you're up and about-"

I bristle. "How long was I out?

She shrugs. "A couple of days, perhaps."

"Days?" I repeat. "Is it not obvious I need to be replaced?" I demand, my voice rising.

"No, it's not!" she retorts, crossing her arms. "You asked for my opinion and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change? "

"I expect you to keep your word," I say without hesitation. "It's fucking relentless - I can't-"

She cuts across me. "You give yourself too little credit."

I glare at her, fidgeting, unable to keep still. I'm seething. "If I'm unable to keep what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this… would you rather save face than admit-"

The door opens and the words turn to ash in my mouth. Lyla walks in, still in her travel leathers, hair windswept, but looking as elegant as ever. She's the light I'm towards but I do not deserve it: I do not deserve her. Maker, let me crawl into a hole now and end this mess - I cannot bring her down when the weight of the world already heavy on her shoulders.

With Cassandra's eyes on me I hesitate then walk past Lyla, resisting every urge to touch her, or take her in my arms. I am exhausted and can't bare to see her disappointment. "Forgive me," I say quietly before excusing myself, trying not to hobble as I leave.

"…and people say I'm stubborn - this is ridiculous," I hear Cassandra say from behind.

I slam the door to the smithy and limp back to my rooms, knees giving way as soon as I sit behind my desk. With one hand I reach down to my desk draw, slide it open and pick up the lyrium box, holding it out before me. I turn it over in my hands, examining it and resisting every notion to open it. But the song wants to be heard and I want to hear it.

Sorry for the delay with this chapter but here it is! Thanks for reading and reviewing! 33