Chapter 36: Sinners and Saviors

...What if you're trapped here? What if they die? What if you die? You aren't strong enough. You never were. You'll succumb. You'll prove him right. You are chaos. You fear. You doubt. Don't trust them. Don't trust anyone. Don't trust yourself. They will all fall. You will fall. You will fail…

Evelyn screamed and screamed into the black void as she fought off the demons of the Nightmare. She screamed so loud her chest hurt, but still she could hear the taunting, endless taunting, inside her head. Nothing could drown it out and it just grew louder and clearer with each thrust of her spectral sword and each flash of magic launched from her hand.

She didn't know how long they'd been trying to fight their way out of the Fade. Her soul felt crushed. Fear had never felt so heavy, so powerful, so real. Evelyn screamed out against it, futile though it was proving to be. Fenris was rabid, snarling in the face of it, a murderous beast of glowing lyrium. Evelyn almost thought that Fear should fear him. Hawke was a violent angry mess of cursing and killing, her chin held high against her fear, daring it to come at her. And it did, in unrelenting waves.

But the Warden...it was the Warden who worried Evelyn the most. Bethany's face hadn't changed when Nightmare unleashed on them. In fact, Evelyn was now sure her face had barely changed since they'd met. She was stoic acceptance, resigned persistence, and above all, she was silent, when the rest of them couldn't seem to stop themselves from shouting back at their foe trying to deny their fears a foothold.

Perhaps it was because she was a Warden, the Blight in their blood a constant reminder of their own looming mortality. Perhaps the demon was right and the woman had simply lost too much in life to fear death any longer. Either way, the Warden Hawke was stalwart and skilled and all too eager to engage the enemy, seemingly without thought to her own self-preservation.

So when the mark acted on its own, as usual, the series of events that followed were unavoidable and all logical decision-making was taken from them. The burn of foreign magic that invaded Evelyn through her hand, the blinding green light, like veilfire searing through to the backs of her eyes, the hole tearing across the sky, all of it was familiar. Familiar and uncontrollable.

There was barely enough room in the fighting for Evelyn to draw breath, let alone safely open a portal back to the other side of the Veil and, not knowing what the situation was there, she couldn't allow any of the demons they were engaging to escape their sequestration in the Fade. But the mark knew nothing of safety or concern for others and so the rift opened wide, just waiting for them all to jump through and land, hopefully, back home.

It was exactly what the demons wanted, so the enemy charged them en masse. The goal of Evelyn and her small crew turned quickly from self-defense to defense of the greater good. Lesser men might not have even spared a breath before they escaped through the rift, thinking only of themselves, but the four gathered against this storm were not lesser men.

Evelyn threw up barrier after barrier; spells Solas had drilled into her while hurling rocks at her in their dreams. Fenris and Hawke were a unified blur, barely seen, the spaces they occupied briefly only identifiable by the dead demons left in their wake.

And the Warden...the Warden did what her kind must do, propelled by instinct and duty. Victory. Vigilance. Sacrifice. When Nightmare itself became manifest and threatened to break free from the Fade, the Warden reacted, engaged, sought victory, ever vigilant...and was granted her sacrifice.

Evelyn blinked and it was done. Before any of them could intervene, Bethany Hawke was gone and Marian Hawke was the last of her line.

There had been many times in her life when Evelyn had felt helpless. Only recently had she begun to believe it wouldn't always be so, but that belief was fragile and now it was proven fruitless. In an instant the din assaulting her ears stopped and the only thing to be heard was Hawke's anguished bellow. Evelyn went blind to everything around them except the sight of Hawke moving to strike at Nightmare herself. Unable to command her own body, when Fenris appeared out of nowhere and shoved Hawke at her then shoved both of them at the rift, she could do nothing but fall and watch the elf turn away. The father of Hawke's unborn babe became a fading streak of lyrium light with a greatsword aimed at the demon.

Fenris' blue light turned green as the two women plummeted back down to Thedas through the rift, back down to Adamant. The sounds of one surreal battle morphed into the sounds of another. Metal clashing and the voices of men shouting surrounded them. Evelyn's heart was trying to pound through her chest. The weight of the tragedy that just unfolded for the Hawke family had yet to fully take hold of her so the overwhelming relief of returning to her family, to Cullen, took hold of her instead.

You're almost safe…

She should have known there was nowhere safe in this world. Evelyn landed onto the hard flagstones of the fortress on her backside, only to be pulled up by a hand clenched around her throat. The burn of the mark magnified as she felt another hand clench around her glowing wrist and forcibly extend it out to the still open rift. Magic poured through her, through the Mark, and from her into the rift, keeping open what should already have closed. Hawke's magic was like nothing Evelyn had ever felt. Hawke's eyes as she looked straight at her were like nothing she'd ever seen. Indescribable pain fueled by indescribable power. Anguish, loss, fear, all were the fuel for Hawke's dangerous power hijacking the equally dangerous power in the mark.

She could kill you if she wanted… As all those Hawke had loved had been killed.

Evelyn was helpless yet again, and more terrified by it than she could remember ever being but she heard all too clearly the words Hawke spoke to her as the Champion forced more and more magic into the rift.

"You are going to hold that door open, Inquisitor, until Fenris comes out of it or I swear I will end all of us here."

It was only then that Evelyn remembered what Hawke had once said to her.

'Don't trust your friends either, Inquisitor…'

xxxx

Cullen's world was once again bathed in green light. The fighting had been relentlessly intense, but he barely noticed. The rhythm of battle fell in sync with the pulse of his blood and the chant in his head.

Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion...

When two forms emerged from a giant newly opened rift, Cullen felt in his heart that it was Evelyn before he even saw her face.

I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see The Light is here.

His light had returned to him and with a surge of elated strength he cleared a path to where he saw her falling. The throngs of enemy combatants were thick but he pushed through knowing it would be over soon. The rifts would close, they would clean up their enemy and they would rise victorious yet again, blessed by the gift of Andraste's Herald.

Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

The first thing he saw clearly was Evelyn's hand, glowing and lifted up towards the rift. Through swings of his sword he saw her face but her expression wasn't firm with determination, as when he'd seen her close rifts in the past, it was twisted in fear. He charged with his shield like a mad bull and when he reached her he saw her feet dangling off the ground. She was held up by her throat and he felt the force of powers he knew all too well, loathed all too well. He could taste Hawke's magic in the air, all over Evelyn, overpowering his love's lilting song and feeding foul energy into the mark. Hawke was holding open the huge rift, only the Maker knew why, and through it demons were pouring like blood from a wound.

Fury and hate filled Cullen, mindless and urgent. Even if he'd spared the time to wonder at the reasons for the appalling scene before him, which he did not, he still would have acted as he did. For Evelyn. To protect Evelyn.

Cullen lunged for Hawke but was forced back. He tried again and again, unsuccessful each time, pushed away by a potent spell of protection that emanated from Hawke, the likes of which he'd never experienced. He shouted for Barris, for Rylen, for the Templars. He himself tried to subdue the mage who was killing his mage with all the remnants of the ability he had left from the dregs of lyrium still singing inside of him. In that moment he knew nothing but a primal rage directed at the women he had known he shouldn't have relied upon and yet he had, failing Evelyn, failing them all.

When a wall of Templars finally arrived it was all they could do to silence Hawke enough to just get near her. The only thought Cullen had as he dove forward was that he just needed to get his hands on Hawke and he would strangle the life out of her as she was trying to do to Evelyn. When he reached the two women he lifted his sword against The Champion but he never landed the blow because a pain like nothing he'd ever experienced suddenly ripped through him. It was impossible to fight through and it rendered him utterly defenseless. He had wanted to protect Evelyn. And Hawke had someone who wanted to protect her.

His vision streaked white with agony as he saw the rift above them suddenly snap closed. Evelyn fell to the ground in a heap. He wanted to go to her but he couldn't move. Why couldn't he move?

A ghost of an image then shimmered in front of him and became solid right before his eyes. It was a man. It was...Fenris? Cullen moved his gaze from the elf's face, which was contorted and blood streaked, down to his armor where a giant gash cut clean through the metal, and finally down to his arm, bare of its ever present gauntlet, glowing in lyrium and disappearing into Cullen's own chest.

The Commander thought he'd danced with death before but now he knew those times were mere passing flights of fancy compared to the sheer helpless mortality he now faced. All the things that had been swirling through his mind during the battle started rapidly draining away. He thought he heard his name being shouted, then Fenris' name and Hawke's, so many names, so much shouting, what were they all saying? He tried to add to the cacophony by calling out the only name that mattered to him, Evelyn's, but when he opened his mouth it filled with blood. It bubbled out over his lips and spurted across Fenris' already bloodied face. The elf didn't seem bothered.

Right before Cullen blacked out, in a wash of blood and blue light, he marveled at the fact that, in the end, it was still the damn lyrium that had killed him.

But it hadn't.

When consciousness yanked him back from the peace of oblivion, he found himself wishing he actually had died. Pain redefined itself yet again as his insides burned, twisted and clenched in rhythmic waves of trauma. He was flat on his back now, looking up at a black sky absent of stars. Hadn't he just been standing? When he blinked and refocused his eyes, he saw not Fenris' face but Hawke's leaning over him, and the hand touching his chest was hers.

At least it isn't through your chest.

Cullen wasn't sure he liked how glib his reaction to life and death had become. He watched, because he was unable to do anything else, as healing magic was poured over and into him, conjuring him back to life. As more of his senses returned he realized it was not only Hawke's magic on him, but Evelyn's, thank the Maker, and Solas' as well.

More flashes of light, and more fucking unbearable pain went on for what seemed like an age all while he just lay there wondering. He wondered why Hawke had tried to kill Evelyn. Why Fenris had tried to kill him. And why Hawke was now helping to reverse the attempt. The rifts were gone, he noticed, and if there was fighting still being waged it must be coming to an end. He wondered if there were any Wardens left to stand their vigil against the Blights. He wondered if anyone cared. They were saviors and sinners both. As they all were. The Wardens, the Mages, the Templars. He was. Evelyn was. Hawke and Fenris, too. In the end, though he was glad this wasn't his end, would anyone care about any of them?

His answer came with the touch of soft lips on his forehead and the song of Evelyn's magic humming in his ears. The magic of the others healing him faded away. He was tired now, so tired, but he managed to sit up with Evelyn's help. She whispered reassurances, praise and thanks to the Maker in his ear and it felt good to feel her breath on his skin. If no one else cared about any of them, it didn't matter because he cared for her and she for him. If nothing else existed, if armies neither rose nor fell and wars were neither lost nor won, there would still exist their love and, in the end, that was what mattered.

But it wasn't only theirs, them, he and Evelyn. Because as he indulged in his moment of meaning, of purpose in the void that only a brush with death can bring into focus, he noticed another set of souls indulging in theirs. Worlds apart, with nothing else in common, no other common ground on which to build, Cullen watched as Hawke huddled on the ground with Fenris. She kissed her lover's forehead as Evelyn had kissed his. They whispered to each other. They held each other. They shut out the rest of the damned world as if it didn't matter at all, because it didn't. Only they mattered. Sin and spite and blood and death, all of it washed away in the wake of their improbable, unexpected, everlasting bond.

Cullen would inevitably have to find out the whats and whys and hows of everything that had just transpired, but he would no longer be able to deny that whatever those answers were, he would understand them. As he now better understood Hawke and Fenris. Because he now better understood Evelyn and Cullen.

A/N: A few things...I just blurted out the latter 2/3 of this chapter this evening because I was finally in the mood to write it, plus I feel good about posting a chapter for this story in the month of July -my time zone at least- just under the wire because I didn't want to go a whole month without updating it :( I hope I stay in the mood to keep writing this because I like that I'm still having fun with it (even if I don't update regularly anymore and I feel like I've been writing this story for fucking ever) and also the rest of the story has nothing to do with the canon DA:I plot from here on out so finally, FREEDOM. :) So. Okay. Thanks for reading my rambling. Both the story and the author's notes ;)