AN: Hi all, apologies for the delay. Real Life has taken a turn for the crazy busy and between that and a unreliable internet connection it's been a struggle. That said, here is the next chapter in our little saga. I'll leave you to consider the subtext on your own :)

Thanks again to everyone who continues to contribute their ideas, feedback and silent support through their favorites, follows and reviews. It means a great deal and I hope you feel comfortable enough to send me a message if ever you have something you want to share, or a question you want answered. I would be more than happy to respond.

Enjoy!

~Voi

The children had slept poorly.

She had woken in the middle of the night to find Numinehn sobbing into Era'fen's small hunched form. And though her eldest had said not a word, there had been something haunted in his eyes, shadows lingering despite the light. Neither of them had spoken about what sort of thing had stirred them from their slumber. She had asked, but had received only mumbled excuses instead. It was not the first time they had refused to speak of their dreams, nightmares most likely, but Lavellan wished they would tell her. Every maternal instinct she had demanded she take care of them.

In the end she had had to content herself with plucking them both from their little bed, and carrying them to her own larger one. They had fallen asleep shortly thereafter, one on each side, burrowing beneath the covers until they had settled. But for Lavellan, sleep took longer in coming, and she stared up at the darkened ceiling of her room while her thoughts continued to twist upon themselves.

It was times like this that she regretted being the Inquisitor, continuing with her responsibility as leader despite her role of mother. She did not doubt she was helping Thedas, that it was the right thing to do, to work with the new Divine and the courts of Orlais, Nevarra and Tevinter to broker peace. But such strides forward had not been without cost, and she wondered now if she had truly been successful in her mission to balance the two roles.

It made her chest ache to see such stark relief on the faces of her children whenever she returned home, as if they had feared she had left for good. For Numinehn the expression was as vibrant as all his others. But for Era'fen...the relief in his eyes was coupled by such sadness, as if even when she returned he was already foreseeing her next departure, wondering if it would be the last time.

And yet, was that not at least partially the truth? Every time she stepped away from them, it could have been. Had she not faced the most dangerous combination of creatures and villains? It would have taken but one failure on her part to rend their world.

She swallowed as she looked down at her eldest, found him curled into her side like a puppy and felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.

He expressed it through his fierce protectiveness of his brother, his independence, the unwavering commitment he had to being a good boy. As if to show her that he could take care of the family while she tended to her responsibility, that she did not have to worry.

Was this the life she wanted for her children? To have them hold their breath every time she was called away, wondering if she would come back?

She exhaled roughly, hands gently smoothing over rumpled sleeping shirts and tussled hair. And not for the first time did she wonder if it was time to reconsider the offer made shortly after she had become a mother.

It was peaceful in Thedas now, more so than it had been at the time of their birth. Despite the occasional, and not unfamiliar, tension between the various groups, the stability of that the past few years seemed committed to holding on for as long as possible. Her advisors could continue on as custodians for the lands, between the three of them there would be little missed.

There needs for an Inquisitor was smaller now, perhaps it was time she formally stepped down.

She drifted off to sleep in the middle of mentally composing her farewell letter.

The ound of someone moving about the kitchen woke her shortly after sun-up, making a veritable racket so loud it made her cringe. Glancing down to find her sons still fast asleep, Lavellan slipped from the large bed and made her way out of the room, pausing for only a moment to tuck the sheets around their little bodies.

And then she was walking down the hall, towards the kitchen to find the third of her boys already up and about, enthusiastically gathering ingredients and dishes for the morning meal.

Swift and capable in combat though he was, Cole was hopelessly lost in the kitchen, like a long-limbed bird, all knobby knees and flapping around in search for something shiny. They had not yet started cooking but already there was white powder on his clothing and a smudge of something like fruit preserve on his cheek.

There was no stopping her lips from curving into an affectionate smile when he finally spotted her and froze mid-step,

"Good morning, Cole."

"Good morning!" He smiled widely, "Rested, recharged, there is much to think about and do but this hour is special. Time for Lavellan and Cole."

He brighten as he read her thoughts, "Thank you, for remembering."

"You're welcome, sweet boy." She said as she crossed the room, taking the stack of pans from his arms, "Now find your apron and put it on, or I fear your clothes will be a mess before we even begin."

Looking at the state of his hair, his shirt, she shook her head, "More of a mess."

"Ah...yes. Apron." His hands worked quickly to knot it properly, "I knew I had forgotten something. Small but important, a bit of fabric like a shield against stains. Protection in the form of yellow tartan and green string. Bright so I don't forget it...but I did."

"You'll remember to put it on first, next time." Lavellan said encouragingly as she donned her own apron, "You remembered to roll up your sleeves this time."

"Oh!" Cole looked at his arms as if he had not realized, and then laughed in delight, "I did!"

"Now, what shall we make?" She asked.

"I...get to choose?" Cole faltered suddenly, "But you always choose."

"I know. But I thought you might like to cook something you were interested in."

"But I don't need to eat."

"I know. You don't need to. But you've enjoyed eating on occasion." Lavellan coaxed the spirit gently, "What do you think, what would you like to try today?"

"Disks of gold, fluffy like cake but not, covered in berries and sweet crème. Dorian sighs, 'This is the only civilized meal the south has ever produced. Glorious.'"

"Dorian's favorite southern dish..." Lavellan's brow furrowed for a moment, "You mean, pancakes?"

"Yes!" Cole nodded vigorously, "A stack of them, as tall the door. Dorian said they were sweet, like dessert, but you could eat them in the morning and it would be ok. Can we make those?"

Smiling serenely, the elven woman nodded as she gestured to the jars, "Yes, I think we can. Though we should start by making just a few. I'm not sure that anyone can eat a stack of pancakes as tall as you described."

For the next hour the two of them worked side by side to make the object of Cole's desire. Cracking, sifting, mixing, each task was done with careful consideration even if the skill did not quite match.

And though there was a mess growing in her kitchen, Lavellan regretted nothing. As patient as she was with her sons, there was a special place for the spirit boy as well. Cole had come to her, to the Inquisition, in the manner of a wayward child. Lost but well meaning, he had done what he could to understand them even as he struggled to understand himself.

That heartfelt attempt to do better, be better, had resonated deeply with Lavellan. And when they had vanquished Corypheus, she had made a point to tell the spirit, the boy, he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Even if there were those among her circle of friends and advisers who viewed him with suspicion, she had never seen anything but good intention and so she had kept him close.

Cole looked up from where he was stirring the final portion of batter and said suddenly, "I've been thinking about what you said before you left last time. About being a family. Would you really be...that is...me as your son?"

The question was enough to make her pause in the midst of heating the large baking pan. They had talked about becoming a family several times over the past few years, each time with increasing depth and understanding on Cole's part. Varric had all but assigned himself the young boy's surrogate uncle, and several other members of the Inquisition had followed.

But the role Lavellan had wanted to take up was complicated by Cole's sensitivity to the fact that she already had sons, and saw himself as somehow lacking.

"Only if that makes you happy." Lavellan replied, "You know I've always considered you part of my family."

Cole nodded but said after a while, a little bit sadly, "Spirits do not have mothers."

"I know." Her voice filled with understanding as well as compassion, "But you are not entirely a spirit anymore either. You have not been just a spirit in quite a while."

"I-"

"You are unique, Cole." She reminded gently, "And so you get to choose. You can do whatever you like, choose whatever you like."

The silence that followed was contemplative, punctuated by the soft sizzle of cakes on a hot pan. Turning back to cooking, she had only just begun to set the first of the golden rounds in a neat little stack when Cole's voice finally cut through the quiet.

"I do not think I could call you Mamae, like the twins do."

When she turned to look at him, Cole frowned apologetically, "But...every once and a while, may I call you something other than Inquisitor or friend?"

"Of course." Touched that he would even consider such a thing, Lavellan smiled, "What did you have in mind?"

"Might I try..." And then Cole looked away, suddenly shy, "Umm..."

She dared not push him, but her hand settled on his narrow back for a moment. Soothing, supportive, she felt him inhale a slow, shaky breath before he finally spoke again. And this time when he turned to face her, there was a hint of red on his pale cheeks.

A spirit that blushed like a boy. Truly Cole was one of a kind.

"Might I call you 'mother' like the other children in the village?" He asked, looking half terrified of his own question, "Would that be ok? I asked Varric and he said you might like it, but only if I meant it...and I would, I promise."

Lavellan found that despite her wishes, the reality of his acceptance was still powerful enough to surprise her, to touch her heart. And in that moment her family truly did expand that little bit more, and her fierce protectiveness settled all the more around this boy who was slowly growing into an adult.

"I would love to be your mother." Lavellan smiled widely as she hugged him, "Thank you."

And like the big puppy he was at heart, Cole laughed and hugged her back, embracing her with happy abandon until the smell of well-done pancake reminded them of their meal making.

"Why not wake up the boys and tell them the good news?" Lavellan prompted, "The pancakes will be ready by the time the three of your return."

"That sounds good. I am very hungry."

She laughed, "Then you better go now."

He got as far as the hall before a thought dawned on her, powerful enough to make her call out.

"Cole."

"Yes?" He paused and spun around, raising his blond brows until they disappeared into the long bangs on his forehead.

"You know I would have loved and cared for you the same way, even if you decided you did not want to be part of the family."

The spirit smiled, his eyes warm and dancing, "Yes, I know. And that is why I wanted to be your son. Because you've always liked me, for who I am rather than what."