ACT II: Hawking


Note: Sorry for the irregular posting times. This time it's one chapter, but hopefully as entertaining as the last! Thank you, though, for all the ones that return and leave me notes, I try to reply to all of them.


We were greeted on the surface by Harding, Solas, and Varric, with at least ten to twelve soldiers with them. For the briefest of moments, I was in utter confusion as to why the fuck they were here and how they had predicted it. That was until Solas laid eyes on me and went into Full Dad Mode.

"Inquisition!" He barked, storming toward us from the cabin he had been searching. The soldiers and Harding jumped to attention, looking for the reason he called them out. His voice rang out through the area and it was then, as my sluggish mind caught up, that I realized the weather was different.

"The rain stopped." I said, completely bemused. Dorian stood next to me, holding onto my arm in the crook of his as he looked around. What the hell happened? Where are the clouds? Why is it so bright? How long were we down there? An endless stream of questions that my mouth was too tired to form. It appeared as if the Inquisition had taken to investigating the area now that the weather had given them a chance.

"Indeed, it has. The Rift must have been controlling the weather. How peculiar." Dorian answered. His hand not holding my arm rose and shielded his gaze from the morning sun. "What a sight, I'm sure the villagers will be glad for it."

"Inquisitor!" Solas demanded my attention as he strode up the hill's incline. Harding and Varric followed behind him with long strides. A few soldiers had been collected to trek up with them, with others looking on from further down into the lake. The soldiers spotted Bull and Blackwall and without a word between them, two shot forward to take the Warden while the other paused next to Bull, their expression pinched seriously with their voice low.

"Solas!" I greeted happily, knowing full well my face was less than impressive with the blood smeared to my neck and my chin busted nearly to the bone. Dorian remained at my side, holding my arm and tightening his grip on it when I swayed slightly.

"What the fuck happened to you, sweetheart?" Varric called from behind our rampaging elf.

"I'm tired." I deflected, and then wondered: "How long has it been since we left?"

"About a day, Inquisitor." Harding replied. She glanced at Bull with a tilt of her head, but the Qunari waved off her concern and settled down into a sit on some upturned stone near the entrance of the cave.

"Hot shit, no way." I grumbled and then groaned. "Of all the times I would have liked some rain, now would have been nice."

"I would imagine that is your doing, then." Solas accused me lightly, glaring over my face. "The weather had shifted rather suddenly when the light from the Rift had disappeared."

"Bingo." I nodded, wincing. "That was us. Can we go back to the fort, please? We're half dead." Solas pursed his lips together and nodded. He turned to Dorian and then his gaze shifted to Bull.

"I fear what transpired down in the depths. Here." Solas reached out and placed his hands on Dorian's interlocked arm with mine. A warm and gentle healing spell flowed into our limbs and reached up to curl around our necks. Dorian slumped against me and with a hasty shift of my weight, I caught him.

"Thank you," Dorian breathed shallowly, "I wasn't sure how much longer I could have kept that up."

"You asshole," I shifted my arm to hold him against me better. I glared at him, "I thought you said you were fine."

"I lied, my love." Dorian grinned at me, and then kissed my head, avoiding the blood on my cheek. My eyes rolled and I caught sight of Solas moving toward Bull. The Qunari readily held out his hand to the elf and the cast of the healing spell ghosted over his skin. Bull nodded and stood with a shake of his head to Solas; the elf had asked him a quiet question.

I sighed; Probably about whatever stupid shit I did down there.

Not that Bull would know, the poor Qunari had been knocked out for that half of the fight. Gingerly, we started our hike back toward the fort. Varric waited until we passed him so he could take up the rear-guard. I held Dorian up with the help of the soldier that had checked up on Bull, with Bull on my left side. Solas and Harding led the way.

"Did you guys find Hawke?" I asked the silence. Solas' ears twitched and Varric chuckled behind us.

"We did. Hell of a time doing so, but yeah." Varric answered. "We ran into some bandits and Venatori, so we're going to need some help clearing them out."

"Gladly." Dorian spat, his voice dark with threat. For real, though, you're dying on my arm, you idiot. I pinched his hip and shook my head at him. He reared up, protesting. "Inquisitor, you said —"

"I know what I said." I interjected with a slight wave of my hand. "What I'm saying now is you get checked, and if — hear me? — if you get cleared for battle, I'll let you out."

"Good Maker," Dorian snorted next to me, hugging my arm to his side in silent thanks, "you sound like my mother. Or would, if she cared."

"Annnnd that's going to be a different conversation. Next!" I announced, ignoring the way Dorian grinned next to me. I peeked over to Harding. "What's the status up here, Harding?"

"We've got most of the place under control, Inquisitor." Harding answered with a raised brow. "We found the bodies for the Sister with those runes. There haven't been any rifts since you left, but… we do have a problem."

I sighed. "What happened?"

"The mayor skipped down." Harding delivered it quickly, a glare taking her face. "We tried to track him, but the rain destroyed most of what we could use."

"Sonovabitch!" I swore darkly, my head thrown back to swear toward the sky. He ran because he knew! A shudder of anger rolled up my spine and the heat rang through my ears. "Harding, get the word to Leliana — bring him in, alive, I need him for questioning. Did anyone search his house?"

Harding nodded her head. "Yes, ma'am. We found some suspicious documents. Judging by your anger, you probably figured out he was responsible for the flooding."

"Who-what the fuck?" I shot a surprised look at her, nearly tripping Dorian with my jerk, the poor soldier next to us was able to compensate quickly enough to keep us all on our feet. "How do you know that?"

"Wait, what?" Harding asked, just as surprised. "Do you not know that?"

"She does," Bull intervened in the madness, "but we're not sure how you know that."

"Oh." Harding relaxed in her armor, her shoulders releasing their tension. "Then, that means his confession letter is the real thing." I nearly stopped dead in my tracks, but the tug of Dorian's arm kept me in pace with him and the soldier. Bull snorted heavily from my other side and Dorian 'tsk'ed between his teeth.

"A confession letter?" I growled. "That motherfucker has the fucking nerve to leave a letter and think he's getting away scratch-fucking-free?"

"Oh boy." Varric huddled a bit further toward Bull's side to avoid my wrath. Solas glanced over his shoulder, surprised by my venom. It's justified! I wanted to shout. The man had lied to us, naturally, because who was going to confess to the Inquisition about their crimes? That was not including the fact that he did flood his old village.

"Fucking hell!" I snapped angrily, emotions rolling through me like a tidal wave. I wanted to be lenient with the guy, it's not easy making that kind of decision, but you had to fucking run! Augh! It wasn't like I couldn't understand why he booked it, there was no guarantee I would have been lenient and not just hung him at the gallows.

But for fuck's sake.

"Getting a little angry there, aren't you?" Varric soothed from far on Bull's other side. "You're turning into the Seeker." Which wasn't unwholly true, I was losing my temper. There was any number of petty excuses that came to mind, but I knew snapping at Varric wasn't fair. He wasn't the issue with my problems. You're tired. You spent a day exploring the lake and then taking on a Rift.

And proving the existence of black holes on the mortal plane.

I exhaled roughly, "... okay. Alright. I'm pissed, yes. I'm sorry."

"Liar," Bull noted casually. I glared at him and he looked away with a grin. Nope. No. I don't want to smile. Fuck you. I fought the affectionate pop in my chest and viciously clamped down on the smile that threatened to take my face. Why, Maker above, can he do that to me so easily? Mood swings, that's what this was. From hot to cold in a second, I was hitting menopause at twenty-seven.

"Right." I cleared my throat. "Game plan. Get to the fort, someone for the love of god, check on Blackwall, Dorian's under house arrest with Bull." The men protested around me and I held my busted and bloody chin up high, ignoring all of them, even as Dorian pinched my arm.

"Aie, aie, watch the insubordination." I teased them in a commanding voice. They went quiet, but I could see the slight smirk at the corner of Solas' mouth and Varric pulling back to avoid being caught in a laugh.

I shook my head, "We're going to take a day. Solas, Varric? Be ready to leave tomorrow morning, we're going to head for Hawke."

"Just two?" Bull asked with a knowing eye glancing at me. I sighed and raised my free hand to rub at my sticky, rough forehead. The blood felt disgusting as it mingled with my sweat and the dirt of the cave.

"I wanted Blackwall to meet the Warden, but… I don't know." I answered the Qunari honestly. "We'll see what he's like after the healer finishes up with him. If not him, then it'll be you." Bull nodded his head quietly. Harding took the rest of the trip to catch me up on the proceedings in the fort. Missing messengers, Venatori, dragon, and now the Wardens.

It was time for a nap.

-0-

Bull lamented the fact that Stitches had left with the rest of the Chargers to Skyhold, he had been stuck with the Inquisition healers and herded into a healing tent. I was placed in the capable hands of Losa, the head healer who eyed me with a heavy gaze as she inspected my wounds and checked over my health. Solas stayed with me in my tent after she was finished and paid no mind as I washed up before I took my rest.

"You had a healing potion, did you not?" Solas asked quietly. He took a seat on a small stool next to my makeshift cot, crossing his arms as he waited. I sat inside of a tub with warm water, scrubbing away at my arms and torso. A year ago I would have been uncomfortable with the second person in the room as I bathed, but now I only cared about getting the blood off my skin.

"I did, but Bull was unconscious, so he couldn't say no when I made him drink it." I answered. My left arm was not the only thing scarred after returning from the cave. The claw marks across my face were faint, but visible. The tip of my nose was missing a notch of skin and Losa had been very keen to warn me I could have lost more.

"That explains the wounds." Solas sighed with a pinch of his nose between his eyes. "If you had taken the potion, the scars would have faded with a healing spell."

"Are you saying I look ugly?" I teased him, the rough sponge going across my face. The water was slowly tinted to a rosy pink as I washed away all that I could reach.

"You're human." Solas replied factually. I paused, the sponge at my neck, with a narrowed look at Solas.

"... did you just insult me?" I asked, but I wasn't surprised. Solas showed an interest in nothing other than the Fade and anything connect to it in the forms of spirits, demons, and magic. Humans, dwarves, and even other elves were well under his radar.

"I suppose so, if you wish to take it that way. I feel no attraction for humans." He shrugged his shoulders gently, casual in his dismissal. "I do hope you were not insinuating anything between us."

I laughed. "Fuck no, dude. You act too much like an older brother for anything like that to happen." That brought a small smile to Solas' face and he gestured with a lazy hand of well, what is one to do and left it at that. I sunk a bit in the tub and stared at him, wondering how I could ask for help without being weird.

The last time I had bathed with anyone around was when I was seven and my mother had no time to bathe three rambunctious kids individually. Not after they had gotten into the honey, at least. Having Solas in the tent even as I washed felt like second nature. He didn't care, and I was too tired to bring myself to care. Had it been Blackwall or Bull, or even Varric, I would have been flipping pancakes.

"What?" He asked with his browline raised, questioning my silent stare.

"Can you help me with my hair? Like, trim it and stuff?" I tried to be sweet, grinning a bit over the edge of the wooden tub. Solas rolled his eyes with a exasperated sigh and paused for effect. I pouted at him and with an amused shake of his head, he moved his stool close to the tub to reach my hair without trouble.

"I only have a dagger to use, so you must not complain." He warned me and drew the dagger from his belt and laid it on the cot. His hands took up the nest that was my hair. "... we might need to shave it all."

"I would cry." I immediately answered, looking at him over my shoulder. "And you don't want to deal with that."

"Right." Solas said dubiously. He reached for the soap and dunked his hands in the water after rolling up his sleeves. "When did I become a personal servant?"

"The moment Cassandra coerced you into taking care of me in the cell." I reminded him with a chuckle. I hastily caught the soap as he tossed it back over my shoulder. It nearly slipped from my fingers back into the tub, and Solas' tug on my hair warned me he wasn't going to let go. I clutched the soap to my naked chest.

"That seems about right. I should have run, as I had originally planned." Solas sighed and scrubbed at the length of my hair. "Though, I dare say, you're not as demanding as some masters can be." The statement gave me pause and I held the soap in my hands, uncertain of the sudden shame that shot through my chest.

"Hey, Solas." I said over my shoulder, quiet. "You really don't have to, I didn't think of it that way. I'm sorry." My friend's hands paused in my hair and he looked at me, confused. A realization dawned on his face and his expression softened with a chuckle.

"The fact that you understood the significance is enough, Jaime. I know you did not mean it in such a way." He soothed with a small pat to my head. I settled against the wooden tub and kept my head straight as Solas worked out the knots in my hair. I knew he was waiting for me to break the ice and tell him about what had happened in the cave.

Fear gripped my heart at the thought.

"Did you know having two rifts in the same tight space is a bad idea?" I started quietly, my fingers playing through the swirls of soap on the surface of the water. Solas' careful hands paused in my hair for a moment and then continued when he sighed.

"What happened?" He asked gently. Hesitation gripped my throat. How do you explain a black hole? How do you explain the upending of reality with that kind of energy? I would have to do my best. In the gentle quiet of the tent, I relayed as much information as I could about the rift, and the power of the Mark, as well as the chaotic destruction that had occurred when the Fade had been unleashed.

Selfishly, I also confided to my friend the tremble of emotions I had strangled deep in my gut, the worry of being caught in a Ben-Hassrath's plans, taken for a fool. Solas kept his hands working on my hair, detangling the strands from my scalp all the way down to the ends. After a while, I could feel the tug of my hair as he dragged the sharp dagger gingerly down against my ends, shortening my hair with each pass.

"You have had quite an ordeal." Solas finally said, giving my head and shoulders one final rinse with clean water to let everything else run off into the tub. I stood and accepted the towel he held out for me, shivering from the cold touch of air inside the tent.

"I don't remember being this cold when it was raining." I joked, hurried hands toweling my shorter hair and skimming over my skin. I wrapped the towel around my body and sat on my cot, unwilling to get dressed into my normal clothes just yet.

"The things we become accustomed to when they are constant." Solas nodded sagely. He tilted his head and glanced over me. "For instance, you managed to return to safety under your own power. No one needed to assist you."

Heat flushed my cheeks. "Yeah, I guess. Do I really always pass out after a rift?"

"Near enough. They require an excessive amount of energy and power. As the Mark grows stronger, so do you, but the consequences of using that power are devastating." Solas reminded me. He pulled his stool over so that he could sit in front of me, his arms crossed again over his chest.

"... do we know what happened to Blackwall?" I was terrified to know. The man had seemed lobotomized from the experience, mute and vaguely responsive. His eyes had been unfocused and his strength all but disappeared.

Solas nodded. "Fatigue, if you could believe it. Emotional and mental. The Fade embodies much of what we are, and those unfamiliar with its pull could suffer greatly under its effects."

"So me opening two rifts and letting them fight caused that mess." I groused and plucked angrily at the pale skin of my inner elbow. The towel slipped slightly and I tugged it up over my breasts with my hair brushing just under my shoulders as I leaned forward in shame.

"Yes." Solas agreed after a minute or so. "I will not lie to you. It was exceedingly dangerous. Blackwall is lucky to have survived. Of the four of you, he is the only one that does not have the necessary mental training."

"Wait." I shot my gaze up to Solas. "What do you mean?" Solas looked at me, his gaze sideways, and assessed my face with a skeptical look. When I offered none of the answers he was looking for, Solas sighed and held up a hand, starting with his index finger unfolded.

"The Iron Bull. Ben-Hassrath. Qunari are proficiently trained to deal with external forces, such as magical influence, as well as internal ones like doubt and chaotic emotional trauma." He raised an eyebrow at me and I responded with a nod. That I know, Bull's told me that most of the time it takes the skill of a re-educator to change someone's mind or get them to behave. Solas' middle finger rose.

"Dorian Pavus. Altus. Mage. He may have not gone through any Harrowing like those in Ferelden or Orlais do, but he is just as skilled at avoiding temptation." Solas waved his fingers lightly through the air. "Since childhood, that man has had demons visiting him in his sleep. He knows how to regulate the damage."

Solas sighed and tilted his head at me, "And you, Jaime, have been in constant contact with the Anchor for months. Though you may not have the lifelong training as the other two, the Mark has changed you. The mind is a wondrously resilient thing when it is tested to its limits." My hands folded in my lap, playing with the edge of the towel. I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. I don't know why I assumed I was the only one that could hear the voices.

"Yeah." I said sadly. My hands came up to my forehead and my fingers ran through my hair. "I don't know why I didn't consider that."

Solas shrugged, nonjudgmental at my failures. "We learn new information every day. No one expects you to know all of it. Move forward, and be confident."

"Easy for you to say." I chuckled, my hands flopping back down into my lap.

"The other concern, about your Qunari friend, is just as dangerous." Solas dropped his voice low, his ears twitching with interest. A smirk tugged on his lips. "Spies are notorious for turning the tables on their targets. Do you feel The Iron Bull is leading you into a false sense of security?"

"I don't know." I stated lamely. "And I feel like I'm going crazy and straight paranoid with second-guessing every little thing."

"Such as?" Solas asked curiously, crossing a leg over his knee. "You have a tendency to flirt with everyone. Would it be so surprising he flirts with you in return?"

"It's not that. I mean like, okay, yeah, I flirt with everyone, but…" The back of my right hand smacked into the palm of my left in frustration, how do I explain it? "He… it's little things. Like the touches, and the looks. I hate it because he's good at predicting my thoughts and it makes me comfortable with him."

"Which is precisely what a spy is supposed to do." Solas nodded. "Thus, then, the concern is that he is playing to your wants so that you may come to rely on him more."

"Or use me for information, or brainwash me into shutting out everyone, or making me side with the Qunari." I rattled off, nerves tickling under my hair and down my neck as the possibilities stretched out in my mind. "It's endless, Solas. I don't know what to do."

"I cannot tell you what to do." Solas immediately answered, his head tilted as he studied me. "Quite honestly, in The Game, you only lose when you die. There is always a solution." It was a fatalist way to think of things, but it was what I had. To trust Bull meant being led into a trap and being used as a tool, to ignore him or cast him aside meant the Qunari could find another means to get to me.

"I'll think on it. Like I said, I'm not… going act on it. There's too much going on to let that kind of emotions into my life." I answered with a small nod, agreeing with myself. Besides, getting into a potentially sexual relationship with a co-worker, or worse, a subordinate, will make things messy.

"Well." Solas stood from the stool and set it away at the end of the cot. "One should not be opposed to a method of stress relieving. You don't necessarily need emotional dependency for that."

"Thank you, Solas." I chucked a rag at him as he exited my tent. With a roll of my eyes, I dressed into underclothes and settled into my cot for a long, and much needed rest. Tomorrow we would deal with the rest of the mess that was Crestwood.

-0-

"Is this the right cave?" I asked my companions. We had started the next day bright and too fucking early. The new weather made things easier, not everything was waterlogged, and people were chipper. My group that I wrangled for the trip consisted of Varric, Solas, and Blackwall. I had left Bull with Vivienne and Sera to take care of the Venatori with Dorian.

It also gives me time to breathe. I was not ready for all that rushing emotion yesterday. My armor had been hastily repaired where it could be, mainly the chest, and the arm that had suffered from the Terror's angry swipe had been refurbished with a off-colored set while the original one was rebuilt from the ground up.

"It is, Hawke's right inside. Just wouldn't recommend walking into a rogue's lair, you know?" Varric grinned at me. We sat just at the mouth of the cave as we waited for Hawke. The cave was quiet and echoed with the faint noises of water dripping and the soft squeak of nugs.

"Hawke had traced his friend here, but when we had arrived, the cave had been empty." Solas informed me, keeping his voice low to minimize the echo from the mouth of the cave. "Hawke suspected the Wardens had come through and his friend had taken refuge elsewhere."

"So will he still be here? Hawke or the Warden?" I asked, but my eyes were on Blackwall. The Warden had taken up watch just a few paces from us, silent and mildly resentful. He didn't have to come, I told him that. The Warden had been stubborn, as usual, and opted to cut his recovery time short to follow us.

"Yeah." Varric followed my line of sight and glanced at Blackwall's back. "Stroud wants to find out what's happening about as badly as we do, so he'll be here." There were footsteps behind us. Solas and Varric caught sight of Hawke before I did, but I whistled to Blackwall anyway to catch his attention and bring him close.

Hawke looked much the same as before when we first met. Tall, half a foot over my head, but his hair had been shaved nearly to his scalp and his beard was nothing but stubble. His scarred grin reached his hazel eyes and he held his hand out for me as he approached. I took it, once again mesmerized by the roguish beauty. Like a female Cassandra, I knew I saw a resemblance. Pity my poor heart as it deflated under his gaze.

"Good to see you're alive, Inquisitor." Hawke gave my hand one good shake and released, the grin still on his face. I guess he's not so tired now as he was last time? Man, I see what Varric meant. People had never been hard pressed into believing Hawke's stories or bending over backwards to help him out.

"Good to be alive, Hawke." I answered with a matching grin. "I hear you found a stray for me. Mind introducing us?" Solas and Varric took up my left and right, with brooding Blackwall taking up the rear. My Warden had his eyes locked on Hawke's back, but said nothing.

"Of course, my lady." Hawke bowed his head briefly and held up a crooked arm for me. I blinked, surprised, but took it gently. He laughed, "It's been a while since someone's been a gentleman with you, seems like."

"Oh no." I said, looking at him askance. "You're one of those. A flirt. I can't handle two of me."

"Nonsense." Hawke said with a warm chuckle, his grin softening to a smirk. "We're entertaining."

"Oh sure," I said as I willingly followed Hawke into the cave, our arms linked together, "that's what they say about the mabari before he eats half the feast." Hawke barked a laugh, short and deep from his chest. He doesn't do anything in halves, does he? It was almost too easy to slot into his puzzling nature and be a part of his own world. How weird.

"We'll wait until the party steps out for dancing." Hawke teased. Once further in the cave, he took down a torch on the wall and took the lead, letting go of my arm. "I'm glad you could come. Stroud should be at the back of the cave."

"Should be." I murmured, following in the Champion's shadow. "My guys were telling me you couldn't find him last time." This cave wasn't as cold as the one I had previously been into, under the lake, but it was damp and it dripped and exhaled cool air as we wandered deeper.

"Aye, he was avoiding his comrades when they were passing through the village." Hawke nodded, his torch held over his head. "They were likely hunting him. They might be good men, but they've been given bad orders."

"That's what it sounds like. One of them we ran into said their orders forbid detouring from finding Stroud." I sighed and rubbed my gloved hands together for a little warmth. "Definitely bad orders if you're ignoring the needs of the weak."

"Agreed." Hawke growled, startling me to look up at his back. What a shift, but Varric's stories had told of a Hawke that could flip on a dime when it came to his service and protecting the ones who needed it most. The sounds of our footsteps started to echo back at us, the noise bouncing off wooden planks built into walls to block off the cave. The customary bandit skull painted bright for all to see.

Hawke reached the door and jiggled it open, bowing his head as he pulled it back to allow me in first. Gingerly, I wandered in with my eyes searching the area for Warden armor or movement. In the dim light of the torches, I could see candles and tables with parchments rolled out. Crates sat in every corner, some cracked open and the others covered with burlap.

The singing hiss of a sword sounded behind me and I winced. Of course he's going to be hiding in the shadow of the door, stupid. I raised my hands and carefully turned to face the person who held me at sword-point. He was as tall as Hawke, with a beard just as robust as Blackwall's that curve down the sides of his face to his neck. He glared at me with icy black eyes and the sword inched toward my chest.

"Easy," Hawke called from the door, stepping in with a hand held out. The others waited behind the Champion, Solas and Blackwall wired tight with their gazes glued to the Warden who threatened me. Varric, in full trust of his friend, followed in with Hawke, Bianca casually cradled in his arms. Stroud's gaze shot to Hawke like a bullet.

"It's just us," Hawke waved to the others behind him and then nodded to me, "I brought the Inquisitor." Deep black eyes swiveled back and pinned their attention onto me. I froze into my bones and waited, my muscles cramping at his intensity. The sword remained pointed at me long enough to make Blackwall uncomfortable and my Warden reached for his sword. I caught it out of the corner of my eye and I wasn't about to have a duke out in a cave with our only lead.

"Blackwall." I commanded, my voice ringing in the cave. I remained where I was, my hands raised, my gaze on Stroud. Don't do this, buddy. Relax into it. Blackwall hesitated, but after a moment he steadied himself and fell into a relaxed stance, his hands clasped behind his back. Stroud's eyes bounced between us before he lowered his sword, appeased.

"My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor." Stroud announced gruffly, his voice harsh either from disuse or damage. Slowly, I lowered my arms and awkwardly shifted into a stance of ease. In the end, my hands latched behind my back like Blackwall.

"I'll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own." I replied politely, wondering which landmine I needed to avoid with Stroud. "I wonder, though. Might those troubles have anything to do with Corypheus?" No better time than now to jump into the thick of things. Hawke shifted over to stand off to the side between Stroud and myself, with Varric at his side. Solas and Blackwall remained behind me.

Lines of loyalty drawn in the sand?

"I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest." Stroud nodded to Hawke, but his gaze never left me. I knew not if that was whether because he didn't fully trust me, or just his nature to be so wholly intense with his interactions. Even without any dramatics, the man was already a handful.

"I suppose it was as much a surprise to the Wardens as it was to Hawke that Corypheus returned?" I prompted, digging for whatever information the Warden would give me. Stroud sheathed his sword with a sharp clank and his mouth worked into a silent sneer.

"An archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power." He waved at me and with small steps I followed as we neared a table covered in maps and journals. Damn that I can't speed read those. I stood next to Stroud, waiting.

"My investigation uncovered clues but no proof." Stroud gestured to the table with an angry flick of his hand. "Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear The Calling."

"I recall that being a bad thing." Hawke murmured sourly behind us, coming up to Stroud's other side and striking the man with a glare. "But I don't recall you telling me about all this." The heat of Hawke's anger was palpable, rolling through his voice as easily as his humor did. Stroud stood silent, his gaze down on the table, but his voice came to us from a distant memory.

"It was a Grey Warden matter." Stroud murmured softly. "I was bound by an oath of secrecy."

I shared a glance with Hawke, but asked Stroud: "Is The Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?" What would it be that Corypheus could trigger it in all of the Wardens? Blackwall? But he hasn't said anything. Maybe that's what happened to him yesterday? Did it catch up with him?

Stroud shook his head, "The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him. Starts with dreams. Then come whispers in his head." My heart stuttered in my chest and my body flared with nervous heat, rattling my lungs behind my ribs as Blackwall's presence burned into my back.

"And then?" I asked quietly, terrified of the answer.

"The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat." Stroud answered somberly, sorrow resting on his brow and slumping his shoulders. Hawke reared up next to me, his shoulders tight to his neck and his copper-tinted eyes flashing in the low light of the torches as he stepped toward his friend, his voice a snake's bite.

"And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now?" Hawke hissed. The Mark in my left hand pulsed and I knew why: Bethany was taken to Orlais out of Ferelden. Oh no. Hawke took another step toward his supposed friend, "They think they're dying?"

"Yes," Stroud nodded, his chin tipped down in shame, "likely because of Corypheus."

"Christ Almighty and his apostles." I exclaimed roughly, my throat catching on my words. My hands flew up to my forehead and ran over my skull, fingers scratching in my hair. What the fuck are we going to do? Bethany is going to be Hawke's priority and Blackwall? I glanced back at my companions. Blackwall met my gaze head-on, ignoring the quiet look of contemplation and curiosity from Solas at his side.

"If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight?" Stroud pleaded at us, imploring Hawke and myself to bring our attentions back to the matter at hand. Stroud shook a fist at us, urging us, "It is our greatest fear."

Hawke met him with a snarl, "And then they do something desperate — which is of course what Corypheus wants."

"Hold please," I raised a hand to keep the two from butting heads. I shifted to Stroud, "Is The Calling they're hearing real, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?" Solas shifted on his feet with a tilt of his head, listening in with vivid curiosity. Blackwall and Varric remained silent, watching as the powers that be argued amongst themselves.

"I know not. Even as a senior Warden, I had heard only the vaguest whispers of Corypheus." Stroud answered with a shake of his head. "The Wardens believe that this Calling is real, and they will act accordingly. That is all we know for certain." Which laid suspicion on a good number of things. Mainly, the Warden that stood behind me. Why hadn't he mentioned it to me? Is it because we're not in Orlais?

But that doesn't make sense. He encountered Corypheus before, and it doesn't sound like a Warden has to be in touching distance to feel this Calling.

"You said all the Wardens are hearing The Calling. Does that include you?" I asked, covering my bases. My eyes shot over my shoulder to Blackwall, "And also you, Blackwall?" My Warden stiffened at my look, his eyes going wide for a moment before he relaxed back into his stance, his shoulders tight across his frame.

"Sadly, yes." Stroud murmured, pained by the admission. I turned in time to spy the man's pinched expression, "It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire." Blackwall exhaled once my attention was diverted, but he should know me better than that; I'm not letting it go, Blackwall.

"That's a hell of a description." I replied with a raised brow. "Is that all you feel? A presence?"

Stroud shook his head. "The creature that makes this music has never known the love of the Maker, but… at times, I almost understand it." I reeled on my heels in surprise, my thoughts flooding to the front of my mind with questions. Hallucinations? Auditory ones? I didn't have enough medical sense to know, but how could someone or something affect hundreds in a single sweep?

"Stroud —" I started, but a sharp cut of his hand stopped me.

"We must uncover what Corypheus has done and end it." Stroud growled, something dug under his skin and seem to have disturbed him enough to shake his voice. "This cannot stand." My Warden stepped closer to our pack of three. Hawke shifted on his feet to keep Blackwall in his line of sight, but (for now) I trusted my Warden at my back.

"I do not fear The Calling," Blackwall murmured to me over my shoulder, "and worrying about it only gives it power. Anything Corypheus does will only strengthen my resolve. I follow you." He stepped back, not quite to his place with Solas, but enough that I wouldn't feel him looming over my person. A wince pinched at my eye.

What are you hiding from me?

The doubt seeded into my soul before I realized, too slow to dig it back out.

"How can Corypheus make all these Wardens hear The Calling?" I continued on my original train of thought, because now too many threads of paranoia were coursing through my mind. This is crazy, get it out of your head, Jaime. Deal with it later.

"I cannot say." Stroud shrugged with a frown. "We know little about him, save that he is dangerous."

"That can't be all that we have?" I asked with my words snagged on frustration. "He's not normal for a darkspawn."

"No, he is not." Stroud agreed with a jerky nod. "He is a Magister as well as a darkspawn — and speaks with the voice of The Blight."

"And we know that somehow reaches you guys, right?" I clarified. Every snippet of information would be given back to Leliana so the Spymaster could tear it apart and piece together her own puzzle of the whole picture.

"Yes, it lets him affect the minds of the Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight ourselves." Stroud confirmed with another nod. He paused, his black gaze flicked over my face and he frowned. "It must be how he created this false Calling, pulling at our connection." Hawke and I shared another look, the roguish man beside me had a quiet snarl on his face.

I sighed, "So the Wardens think they're dying and have stopped thinking clearly? That won't go well."

"We are the only ones who can slay archdemons." Stroud countered with some heat, his mouth pinched and his beard ruffled over his lips. "Without us, the next Blight will consume the world."

"That's generous of you." I returned with a vemon-laced snap of my own, hands on my hips and gaze narrowed on his face. "That's assuming the world survives this war with Corypheus." A smirk struck Hawke's face like lightning and he quickly hid it with a swipe of his hand over his mouth and chin, turning to Varric with an amused eye.

Varric grinned at me.

Nerds.

Stroud sighed and shifted gears with a low voice. "Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perish." Hawke and I shot sharp looks at Stroud. Hawke's expression lit on fire and his eyes burned, a deep burrowed anger rolled through his chest and made him shudder. The Mark on my hand recoiled from the force of it, the vicious lash caught me off guard.

Selfish, rotting sods — thinking they're the end all, be all to any problem that comes up — never giving the world a chance to try!

I winced as Hawke's voice rattled through my head and I resisted the urge to touch my temples. I shook my head lightly and blinked to clear my thoughts. The voice had disappeared as Hawke's anger was wrangled in and controlled. What a devastating man. First on the battlements and now here. I've never been able to feel anyone else that intensely before. Goddamn.

"I take it you didn't like that plan?" My voice cracked on a few of my words. Stroud and Hawke caught it and peered at me with curious looks that I openly ignored. Stroud frowned and ran a hand down his beard, ashamed with his nod.

"When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me." He shifted away from us and stepped back to the table. He tapped at the map to a location that jutted out into the desert areas. Varric and Solas moved closer to glance at the markings. Hawke and I kept our gazes on Stroud.

"I promise you, this is where they are." Stroud laid his offerings bare. "Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach."

"What should we expect?" I asked quietly, my arms crossing over my chest. Stroud adjusted his sword and strode past Hawke and I, his eyes on the exit. Hawke made no move to stop his 'friend,' so I remained in place as well.

Stroud's voice carried to us as he left the cave. "It's an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers."