((I apologise for the huge delay. My purse was stolen, and my USB-stick was in the purse. I had the chapter almost finished and needed time to quell my rage to rewrite it. Or rather, to write something almost entirely different. After this, there'll probably be one more (and maybe a separate epilogue, if the chapter would be too long) and then we're done.

Chapter heading is a Carmina Burana line, taken out of Estuans Interius and means – roughly – No chains or key hold me.))

Chapter 25

Non me tenet vincula, non me tenet clavis

Núria eyed the elf with some caution. He seemed intense. He always did. He also seemed to avoid looking at her. Cullen looked from one to the other. 'You don't like each other, do you?'

The Warden licked her lips. 'I can't even say that. I'm just not certain how careful I should be around a man who is a known killer and might be holding a grudge against me.'

Fenris did look at her then. 'I don't. And I believe your body count includes more than darkspawn, too.'

She grinned at him, unabashedly. 'True.' Núria folded her arms. 'So. What do you need, Cullen?'

The templar nodded curtly. 'I need … I need a cathartic corrective. The Inquisitor means for us to be a refuge for mages as well as the Templars' new head-quarters. And the only way I can see this work, is if we have someone who is not part of either group representing their interests. I need someone who is not a templar to communicate to the mages why the templars are here but not a threat. I need someone to communicate to the rest why we are not a circle with the restrictions that come with it, but allow a lot more leeway. I also need someone either group can address. Safely, without fear.' He started pacing. 'I kept thinking and thinking. I can't be that person because I am a templar. And which person is there who I can trust to be absolutely neutral?' He stopped and looked at them again. 'No-one. No-one can be neutral, too much has happened on both sides. Everyone sympathises, at least to a degree, with someone. You two do that very openly, and I've heard rumours of both of you that you consider staying here. Is that correct?'

Núria shrugged. 'Yes. The Grey Wardens are all but history. I must say, I would welcome being able to be useful.'

Fenris smirked. It looked rather frightening. 'I have no idea. I … may remain here, but I cannot tell right now. It depends on a few things I cannot predict.'

'Any idea when you'll know?'

'Soon.'

'Very well. In case it isn't obvious, I'd ask you to be the representatives. Núria, you support the mages, I take it.'

'What gave me away?' she asked with a grin. 'Our first meeting? Jowan?'

The templar actually smiled back. 'Both. Fenris, I know where you stand. None of you will decide alone, if there is a decision to be made. You will appear as one and come to me if you cannot find a consensus. If you agree on something, the one who gives in has to fully support the decision that was made. Otherwise, don't make the decision.'

'What can we expect?' Fenris asked.

'Mostly unfounded fears and suspicions, probably from either side. Not the templars as much as common folk. But the mages will be concerned, and with good reason. If a mage claims they have been harassed, look into it. If by a templar, bring it to me. What I want you to do is be out there and communicate. Make sure everyone feels safe and everyone knows that they can come with questions. Make them aware that we take them seriously. Both sides.'

'I am not a diplomat, Cullen,' Núria said with a frown.

'I know. Neither is Fenris. You're both brash, angry, and outright dangerous. Which means you won't be easy targets. This might become a dangerous task, standing between the lines of fire. You will both function as guards as well, in a manner of speaking. If you find a mage causing harm, you have the authority to do as you see fit. If a templar goes rogue you need to arrest them. And … somehow I have a feeling both will happen. Not at the very beginning, but eventually.'

'I'll do it,' Núria said. 'But I still think you need a diplomat.'

Fenris glanced at her. 'If I stay, I'll help. And I believe sometimes a sharp blade is the most impressive means of communication.'

Despite herself, Núria laughed. 'I'll give you that.'

Cullen smiled. 'You know what? You'll get along just fine. Thank you. Fenris, let me know.'

Ϡ

'I have decided what to do with the Inquisition now that Corypheus is gone.' Lenkala smiled at Cole, and he knew that he would like the conclusion from that look. 'We still have a function, a place in the world, I believe. And I have something I need to ask you to do.'

'Anything.'

'You know better than anyone how dangerous we are. If one of us – any of us – so much as considers abusing the power we have, you need to call us out on it. And if that doesn't work, tell the others.' She frowned slightly. 'Stop us from becoming as corrupt and oppressive as the templar order.'

'Perhaps you should send the templars away.'

Lenka shook her head. 'No, I can't do that. I want them close. I want to watch them, to control them if need be. But I don't even mean that you should watch all the templars. Just the leaders of the Inquisition, including myself, and Núria and Fenris.'

'I'll enjoy watching you,' he said.

Lenka blinked. 'I … oh?'

'Yes.' He dropped his voice. 'But it is not enough. To watch.'

'No? What else would you do?'

Cole offered her both hands. She took them and let him pull her into his arms. 'Carnation.' His hands settled on her hips, holding her near him.

Lenka's eyes widened slightly, both confusion and amusement in her eyes and her soul. He would answer, but not with words. He had none. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her. A ripple went through her body and she clung to him, affection flooding him, enveloping him like a warm blanket in the cold of night. 'Come with me,' he whispered against her lips and felt her nod. Taking her hand, he led her outside and to one of the towers that hadn't been rebuilt. During noontime, the snow melted slightly by now so that there were patches of earth with sporadic green showing everywhere. The winter was gone, life returned to the world.

Cole stopped in the ruins of the structure. Here, the cold wind hardly reached them behind the remaining walls. A small plant had managed to grow here, a single flower, white as the snows of winter, with the typical frayed-looking petals gracing it. 'I found it yesterday,' Cole told her. 'It made me think of you. Not turned into less than it is by becoming a symbol. Despite the cold, it survives and rears above everything around it, looking fragile and faint but hardier than anything else around here. I wanted to bring it to you, but it would have been wrong. I cannot break something that is like you.'

Lenka bit her lower lip and crouched down to look at the carnation, pulling Cole down with her. 'I never thought I'd hear something so … poetic from a human.'

'I don't know if I am.'

'It doesn't matter what you are, Cole. I love you.'

He knew that. He really did. But hearing it … hearing those words from her shattered any reservations, any doubt that maybe she doubted him, any fear that she might fear him gone. He pulled her close, pressed against her, inhaling her scent. 'I want to be with you,' he said, whispered, spoke with voice and soul. 'I want to feel you close.'

Lenka's eyes locked on his, and she nodded. They went back inside, Cole wondering how it was possible that going back felt much longer than coming here. The door closed behind them, and her lips were on his, her hands peeling him out of his armour. And somehow, as if not controlled by him, his hands were doing the same, were desperate to feel warm, soft skin rather than the fabric. She was faster. Somehow, it didn't feel odd to be unclothed. And when she stepped out of her pants, it wasn't like way back when, when he had watched Evangeline change. It hadn't meant anything then, he hadn't even understood her discomfort when she learned of it. But now … there was no discomfort. Lenka pushed him onto the bed and he let himself fall, reached up and placed his hands on her sides when she straddled him. 'Carnation,' he whispered again, taking in her slender form, so fragile, but surviving, always surviving.

'Cole? Since you've never done this, will you let me lead this first time?'

'Please.'

Lenka leaned down to kiss him, her tongue dipping into his mouth, starting a slow dance with his. He was drowning in her warmth, her scent, the way she felt, and yet he needed more. 'Let me do something for you, my love.' Her words were spoken into his skin, every syllable she gave to him more precious than any treasure. He didn't answer, didn't need to. She smiled down at him and ran the tips of her fingers over his chest, rubbed her thumb over his nipples and smiled when they hardened. Cole admired how beautiful her body was, but more than that, he enjoyed the way she looked at him, and the way she thought of him. He had watched people having sex. It had been very physical and sometimes ugly. But this … was so much more. The physical was an afterthought. It was about him and about her and about this huge, pulsating emotion that was keeping them close, that wouldn't allow them ever to be separate again. 'I want to give you something, Cole.' Her eyes, for just a moment, left his and flickered to his sex, hard and eager.

'Please,' he said again. It was barely more than a whimper, full of need. He wasn't certain what he was begging her to do, but he knew that he needed it, because he was burning on the inside, and he would surely turn to ashes if she didn't touch him soon. Her mouth trailed a path down his body to the aching, swollen organ, leaving a trail of fire behind it. When her lips closed around him, encasing him in warm moisture, he fell and kept falling and when he crashed he would die. His hips started moving, but her hands held him down and he tried to keep still. The entire world focussed on the elven woman who sat between his legs, her mouth sucking on him, joy dancing in the wild eyes that held his as if he was everything. When, in truth, she was everything. His hands tangled into her hair, needing to touch some part of her, to hold himself in the world. He heard himself moaning, his breath coming hard and ragged. He had watched enough to know what was going on, to know that he wasn't going to last long. 'Wait … wait, Lenka … wait …' Lenka didn't wait. She chuckled, wrapped one hand around his shaft and continued, her lips moving over the ridge again and again, her tongue swirling and dancing.

Cole wanted to warn her, but when he thought to do so it was already too late. The building inferno consumed him, took his breath and turned it into a shout, fire streamed from somewhere inside him and spilt. Lenka drank as if it was a gift he gave her rather than his last hold on himself slipping. 'Lenka …' She came up to him, smiling, cupping his cheek. 'I am sorry, now I can't … not right now.'

Her thumb brushed over his skin, gentle and warm. 'I know. This was for you, Cole.' Her smile turned more intense, more of a grin. 'You'll recover soon. Trust me. It's out of your system, now you can enjoy.'

Cole turned to his side. 'I love you, my Carnation.'

Lenka chuckled. 'You'll keep calling me that, won't you?'

'Very likely.' And then he felt the shift, even though Lenka's expression didn't change. 'No, you don't,' he told her quietly, suddenly alert. 'This fear isn't yours. It's her, not you.'

'And who are you to say that?' Her voice was cold, but there was a struggle underneath, the silent scream of a soul that was forced to act against its will. 'You are a demon, you will possess me unless I protect myself!'

'Your words don't hurt me, Mythal. Let her go. She is not yours. I will not let you harm her.' He sat up, pulled Lenka with him and stared into her eyes, his nose almost touching hers. The haze in his mind was gone, because Lenka needed him, needed his head clear. 'Lenka. You can stop her. She wants you to destroy yourself, and that would destroy me. Fight her. For yourself and for me.' His voice was firm, coaxing like he knew he could. He was no longer the ghost of the Spire, but he wouldn't lose this battle, not at any cost. He couldn't.

Ϡ

Leliana ran. The distance from the desk to the door seemed a mile long, and to reach Solas it would be many more. She made a grab for the handle when the door crashed inwards so hard it bounced off the wall. Cole stood framed there, both hands balled into fists and fury and fear blazing in his eyes. 'It needs to end. Now.'

'Cole, can you help Darya?'

'No.' His voice was dark and wild. 'I can't. I don't know if I want to. But Solas does, and he may try, but it must end.'

Jowan planted himself firmly between the young man, who was, she told herself, a very lethal assassin when he wanted to be, and their unconscious daughter. The mage was pale but determined. 'What happened and what do you intend to do?' His voice nearly cracked, but there was no doubt he would fight for Darya.

'I will carry her to Solas. And I will not let you stop me. You won't force her because you fear for her. I fear for everyone else! I fear for Lenka.' His last words were barely more than a whisper.

Leliana clamped a hand over her mouth. 'Did she get into her head?' she asked, her voice muffled. Cole didn't answer, he just looked at her, and she knew. 'Is she all right, Cole?'

'She is now. She is talking to Solas.'

'Thank the Maker.'

'We'll bring her to Solas,' Jowan said quietly. He lifted Darya into his arms. 'But we'll come with you. We need to be there.'

Ϡ

Dorian still heard Josephine's word clashing around his head. He had thought the Antivan didn't trust him, but apparently, he was wrong. He felt flattered. And maybe a little frightened. To agree was to abandon any thought of ever going home. Which he might do, unless …

He took a deep breath before entering his quarters. As he did whenever he had rounded a corner today. It had started to be frustrating soon, and by now, it felt achingly futile. Determined, he opened the door. Surely, the room would be empty.

Dorian looked, and there was Fenris, at his window, staring outside. Dorian's heart was beating wildly. He tried not to wonder what the elf would say.

'I wondered where you got,' Fenris said.

Dorian snorted and approached him. 'You've got some nerve.'

Fenris looked pointedly at his hands, but at least he turned to face Dorian. 'I broke my rule. That … frightened me.'

'I figured.' It was true. He had thought that might be the reason. 'I should have stopped you.'

'No. I don't want any more rules. I don't want you to think what you can and can't do when you're with me.' He blinked. 'If I didn't discourage you permanently.'

Dorian shook his head. Instead of an answer, he took the last step that separated them and placed his hands on Fenris's shoulders. 'Me? Discouraged? Perish the thought. I am the epitome of courage, a true paragon of virtue and sheer nerve.' He saw the ghost of a smile on the elf's dejected face and kissed him, slowly, deeply, trying to chase away the uncertainty. 'There is something I need to say.'

Fenris pulled away and smirked – smirked! – at him, and Dorian had to struggle not to just hug him. 'Varric warned me of you.' The elf took a step backwards, folded his arm and looked him up and down. 'He informed me you're a mage. You could have mentioned it.'

'All right,' Dorian said sternly. 'Who are you, and what did you do to Fenris, the angry elven man who always looks forbidding and never jests?'

'I … may have told him he is no longer needed.' He shook his head. 'I do not have to keep running from others. And I … don't want to keep running from myself. But you wanted to say something.'

'I did? Indeed, I did.' Dorian looked at him, at the expectancy and the sincerity of the warrior's face. 'You are terribly dull and I hate you.'

Fenris turned away, looking out of the window again. 'Duly noted. Anything else?'

Dorian approached him and ran his hands down Fenris's arms, pressing against his back and resting his chin on top of his head. 'I hope this ends soon.'

'Well. It will the day you decide to go home.' The quiet voice was full of badly veiled pain.

Dorian let his hands travel around Fenris, holding him close, hoping to show what he couldn't say. 'Or the day you wake up and realise I really am a mage.' The elf stared stubbornly away, and all of a sudden the real reason for his disappearance was abundantly clear. Dorian's fear of loss was almost overwhelming, but this man had at least as much right to be insecure as he did. Dorian needed to get over himself. Every bit of experience wanted him to retreat, to coax Fenris into showing him that he was actually wanted. But if he did that, he would lose him because to Fenris, it would be a rejection. No, Dorian wouldn't let that happen. 'Amatus. Look at me.'

Fenris stiffened, then turned. Slowly, deliberately. 'What did you say?'

Dorian's expression was earnest. 'You heard me, but I'll say it again, until you're sick of hearing it. Amatus. My Amatus … There is a lot for me left to do here. And we'd established that I have to choose before. I made my choice. I cannot even consider taking you with me. Anyone else, I could hardly ask to do such a thing and if offered, it would be dangerous to accept and I'd probably say no at first, just to offer a way out. But you … you cannot, under any circumstances, set foot into Tevinter, and I will not leave you.' He bit his lower lip. 'It seems you are stuck with me, Fenris. Better get used to it.'