Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen.
A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a
long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle
of the story. ~ Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

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For two days Melori lay on pallet in the healer's aravel and tried not to cough up a lung. They'd set her shoulder back into place, bound it, and healed it. Her wounds were healed or healing, and she was blessedly clean, her hair braided down her back in a variety of smaller braids twined into one elaborate knot-work of red and gold, but she couldn't stop coughing and there seemed to be a weight in her chest that would not abate. The fever was a miserable thing, causing her to shiver and ache endlessly. Breathing out of her nose was a near impossibility.

Two more letters had arrived from Cullen and she'd read them several times, when her sick head would allow it. His descriptions of life at the castle were distracting, and he had apparently made further inroads through the books in the study. It was a little worrying that he was writing so often, she thought, imagining him wandering the halls of Skyhold in the middle of the night, unable to sleep.

Outside her tent the morning of the second day, she heard Solas speaking with the healer, their voices low, and she listened because there was little else to do besides cough, reread the letters, or stare at the drying herbs over her head. Sleep, while necessary, had become difficult with the Desire demon appearing more often than not, though he had not appeared as Hugh again since that first experience.

"The Inquisitor wishes to send Enara back to Skyhold along with some of our other wounded," Solas said as she listened. "Perhaps in the next two days, if she is well enough to travel."

"If we can force the fever down, perhaps," the healer, an herbalist named Nissa, answered. "The congestion in her lungs will have to work itself out. Travel might make it worse unless someone's there to keep an eye on her."

"That will be provided. May I sit with her?" Solas asked. He sounded stiffly formal, as though he were working very hard to be polite, which had Melori smiling in amusement.

A few seconds later the aravel dipped a little as Solas climbed up into the wagon and sat beside her. Something warm and soft landed on the floorboards beside her and Cat draped himself against her chest, purring quietly. Melori was curled on her side, propped up on a pile of blankets, blankets half on and half off because she couldn't quite decide if she were too hot or too cold. She opened one eye and looked at Solas, who stretched his legs out alongside her and smiled.

"I won't get to see the ruin," she said, a mournful note in her voice that ended in a coughing fit. For a space of time, she fought it, trying to avoid the inevitable tearing pain in her chest. "Ugh ..."

"In your current state that would most certainly kill you," he answered, though not unsympathetically.

"What good am I if I can't do what they need me to do?" she asked, her voice rasping, a small feeling of panic welling through her center. "I don't want to be a mage in a tower again, never leaving, always-"

"Atisha'dar," Solas said, placing his hand over hers. "You are ill, Melori. You have not truly rested since Adamant and your strength is worn too thin. Even the Inquisitor rests now and again. Sadly, elves are not proof against illness. You are not immortal as the elvhen once were."

"What if I miss something important?" she whispered, comforted by the touch on her hand.

"Dorian and I will bring you back details on everything we see," Solas promised. "Or do you not trust our observational skills?" That won him a glare and he chuckled, squeezing her hand gently.

"And if the demon comes back?" she mumbled, feeling the tug of sleep. "He keeps ... coming back."

Solas stilled and his eyes moved to Cat, who stared unblinking back at him. "Demon?"

"Desire ... just keeps coming back. Likes t'talk ...about ... magic," she answered, voice fading as sleep overcame her.

On the way back to Skyhold, Melori traveled in one of the carts the Inquisition used to transport the wounded, wrapped in a cloak and covered in the blanket from her bedroll. She shared the space with a human scout named Tesia who had taken a blow to the knee from a giant. They were both more than a little loopy from the potions and herbs, and became quick friends amidst the shared misery of pain and illness.

Considering how slowly the caravan was moving, they had over a week in each other's company, and spent most of the journey sleeping or playing incoherent games of Wicked Grace with cards that they borrowed from the soldiers escorting the group. The nights were the worst, when the humidity rose and her cough grew inevitably worse. Cat seemed to enjoy riding in the cart, spending a good deal of time perched on the seat next to the driver or pressed up against Melori while she dozed.

Now and then she would receive and send Leliana's ravens as they traveled, spending the evenings writing updates and taking new orders. She answered Cullen's letters and sent them off, even daring to continue the game of chess without aid, having drawn out a chess board in her journal and parsing out the moves beforehand. Cat was surprisingly helpful in this regard, offering advice as to potential moves, though he refused to explain the logic behind them.

They rolled back into Skyhold several days later, Melori feeling somewhat less wretched, though the cough still rattled in her chest like a piece of tearing cloth and her muscles ached with the constant coughing. The fever had completely disappeared once they'd hit the cold and chill of the Frostbacks. The warmer air within the castle walls was a welcome relief as she helped Tesia from the cart and into the waiting arms of the guardsmen who would carry the scout up to the healer's rooms.

She looked over the various bags in the cart and began to gather them up, one by one, wondering how heavy they felt. Her armor was packed away in a bag, of course, having been retrieved from the ruin where she'd first been captured, and her weapons were lying to one side as well. She frowned, remembering the number of stairs between the gate and her rooms. Did she go to the study or her rooms? The thought of the latter made her stomach twist. Since she'd placed Hugh's things in her bedroom she had only returned to it a few times.

"Please tell me you're not considering carrying all of that yourself?" A familiar voice said behind her.

Melori, startled, caught her breath, and began coughing. She clasped one over her mouth with the end of her scarf, heat rising into her face. "Um ... no? Of course not, Commander," she said, when she could speak again. He was standing in the sunlight, looking at her with a concerned expression. "I'm fine, really."

"Liar," he chuckled, turning to wave to one of the soldiers. "You there! Carry these up to Enara's room."

"Oh, not the room! The study, please," she said, but he shook his head.

"No, your room," he nodded at the soldier, who grabbed Melori's gear and headed up the stairs at a trot. "Leliana's orders."

"But ...," her jaw flexed. "It's probably a mess. The Study is -"

"Lady Vivienne heard you were returning and has taken care of all the necessities," he explained, watching her face shift between expressions. "She was very careful to make sure nothing important was disturbed."

"I suppose I have no choice in the matter," Melori said, turning to gather Cat up into her arms, but he leapt away into the grassy courtyard, his tail swishing like a white flag as he bounded away. "Oh... not you, too," she muttered.

"You seem to be collecting pets," Cullen commented, watching Cat dart off into the bushes along the wall. "I hope he's a good mouser."

"Oh, he's many things. No doubt tormenting the local mice population will be high on his list," Melori answered, covering her mouth and coughing again. She felt more tired than she'd expected to, so when Cullen held out an elbow, she slid her hand through it without complaint, asking instead, "Did you receive my letters?"

"I did," he answered as they walked up the stairs. "Though you were not very forthcoming on the nature of your troubles in the Exalted Plains. I had to get that information from Leliana. Did you really sink a boat in order to let Serida escape?"

"I did," She answered, pausing on the stair to catch her breath. "Not my most enlightened of ideas, sadly."

Cullen was quiet for a few moments as they began to walk again. "You don't know how to swim."

"No," she admitted, glancing up at him. The tenor of his voice had been grim and his expression had darkened. "But she was only there because I didn't think to set guards on the river." They reached the top of the stairs and she tried to pull her hand free of his arm, but he held it tightly. Her face twisted into a frown. "I can decide for myself to do reckless things, but they were in my care and they -" she stopped and took a breath, not meeting his eyes. "It didn't matter at the time if I could swim or not."

"Maker's breath," he looked for a moment as though he would say something more, but caught himself and drew her along past those gathered in the courtyard. They made their way up the stairs and into the Great Hall, pausing as a coughing fit took her. Cullen held her upright until it passed and then they made their way up the next flight to where Lady Vivienne sat reading.

"My dear!" The Senior Enchanter said when they appeared, moving the book to one side. "You look positively ghostly."

"The Commander said I had you to thank for readying my room for me," Melori said carefully, trying to stand straighter, though she was beginning to feel wobbly and a headache was blooming behind her eyes. Her fingers gripped tightly to the metal of Cullen's vambraces.

"I simply made sure everything was freshened for your arrival," Vivienne answered. "I have made it my cause to keep all of the mages comfortable while we serve the Inquisition. Darling, I do hope I have not upset you?"

"No ... no," Melori shook her head, falling back on old habits and hidden thoughts. "I appreciate your concern, I really do."

That earned her a speculative glance, but the other mage's lips softened into a smile. "When you are feeling better, I would like to spend some time with you, actually."

"I would be honored, Lady Vivienne," Melori answered politely, though she gritted her teeth.

Her room seemed a different place when they entered it. There were more pillows, fresh linens of a finer quality than she'd ever seen, flowers in a vase on the dressing table, and paintings on the walls. In one corner stood a new wardrobe, and she saw a trunk to the right of it bearing the Templar emblem. The room was changed, certainly, but all the things that brought her pain were out of sight.

Cullen took a breath as they entered, his brow shooting up. "It smells like Embrium and Prophet's Laurel," he said appreciatively. "I wonder if this is what the Orlesian Circle is like?"

"Impossibly elegant and expensive?" Melori asked, glancing at him before letting go of his arm to brush a hand over the new coverlet. "Or perhaps she's trying to win us all over to support her when she attempts to ... " she halted and sighed. "I'm sorry. That was ungrateful of me."

"On the contrary," he answered, leaning against the door frame while Melori took a seat in one of the new wing-backed chairs beside the fireplace. "It is wise to question the motives of Orlesians. That blasted Game makes everything suspect."

"It feels like someone else's room," she muttered, feeling obliged not to sprawl in the chair. "Which means I must makes a mess of it as soon as possible ..."

"I daresay you'll make short work of it," he chuckled, reaching down to carry her bags over to the wardrobe. Compared to the finer furnishings, they seemed grubby and dirty, and Melori wondered if she looked the same way, picking at the wool coat she was wearing unhappily. Cullen saw her expression and frowned. "Melori ..." he hesitated.

"I'm sorry, I was ... just thinking ... things," she said, shifting in the chair and covering her mouth on yet another cough with a grimace. "I wish I'd come back with the others, not ... not like this."

"It is preferable to not returning at all. You know that."

Her eyes flitted to the wooden chest with the Templar crest on its side and she nodded, looking down at her hands. "I've never really been in charge of anyone before and I kept thinking what you would do, or what Hugh would do ... and ...," she looked up at him, her expression almost angry, color rising into her cheeks.

"You couldn't have stopped their deaths," he told her firmly. "No matter how much you blame yourself, you did not kill them."

"I could have done ... something! I should have posted guards along the river bank. Or had us all stay with Dorian's group. I should have let Serida climb through the tunnel with the veil fire torch. I could have fought for them had I done that!" Melori took to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. "You would do what you needed to do to protect people. You did do that in Haven. How do you bear it when they die?"

"You bear it because you must. Because you are fighting against an enemy who will destroy everything you hold dear if you do not," he answered softly, looking down at her with a frown between his eyes. "Sometimes you send them out against the enemy knowing they will not return, and you walk the castle at night hoping to see something bright to give you hope that it was the right decision."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Melori nodded, feeling ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry. I should have thought before I spoke."

"All I require is that you do not try to drown yourself again," he said with a crooked smile that brought her eyes to the scar on his lip. Melori swallowed a little, color rising further as she realized just how close he was, almost close enough to ... she killed the thought abruptly.

"I... I'll try to avoid it in the future," she promised, a little bemused at the riot of competing emotions making her heart race.

"Good," his smile grew as he turned to leave. "We have a chess game to finish."

"There is every sign of pneumonia," the healer said a few hours later, the curls of her vallaslin a certain seriousness to her gaze. Orila was a thorough woman and skilled in the healing arts, having followed the Vir Atish'an with the keeper of her Clan for many long years. "Though you are showing improvement from early reports. Now that I've seen you, I'm of the opinion that you are suffering from exhaustion, as well. If you would rather not see the surgeon any time soon, I suggest you rest and take some time to recuperate."

"I'm all right now, really," Melori protested, sitting on the edge of her bed in a loose blouse and leggings. "I know I'm sounding hoarse still and the cough is still there, but I'm doing much better than I was. Certainly nothing that would keep me from working. Surely?"

"When you can make it from here to the Great Hall and back without having to stop to rest, I'll let you do what you like," Orila said firmly. "If I catch you in that study or in the library - or anywhere that isn't this room, the Nightingale will hear about it. Do you understand?"

"You want me to stay in bed for ... how long?" Melori asked, horrified. "If I don't have something to do, I'm going to go mad."

The healer rolled her eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of people to visit you. And I'll have someone checking on you now and then. Let me be very clear on this," she leaned close to Melori and spoke very concisely. "Your body has suffered a great many injuries over the past few months - your leg, various stab wounds, head injuries, and more. When you add something like drowning onto the top of all that? You're making what's already bad worse."

"But ..."

"I haven't even added the damage the magical injuries have done to you, but if the list the Nightingale gave me is any indication, you've got a dire need for complete rest. By the Creator, da'len," Orila shook her head. "You're pale a ghost and thinner than you ought to be. Any healer worth her salt would be doing exactly what I am now."

"You've made your point," Melori growled, crossing her arms over her chest only to ruin everything when a coughing fit grabbed her and she bent over, feeling like her lungs were coming apart. The healer placed a warm hand on her back, warm magic flowing into her skin, easing the pain of it.

"I'll have one of the others take you down to the baths in a little bit," Orila promised, her voice sympathetic.

"I would like that."

She was still sitting on the bed after Orila left and Cat twined his way through the door, his bright eyes full of mischief. "I don't suppose you want to come see what I found in the garden, do you?"

"I'm not allowed to leave this room till I'm well again," Melori told him, irritated.

"Pity," he answered, tail swishing. "I'll just go back and play with the other one."

"What other one?" she asked, but he was gone.

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NOTE: So, this almost didn't get to you all because my computer went completely insane after a power outage and I lost almost EVERYTHING. It's only roughly edited. I apologize for that.