I want to thank you for all your patience because I still post with giant hiatuses. Sorry for that.

Enjoy the chapter!


Wintersend part 25


Blackwall climbed up the ladder onto the loft over the stable and stumbled groggy with tiredness to his bed. He was exhausted; nevertheless, just before he collapsed heavily on the straw mattress, he discerned, in a flash in the pale light of a lantern, something lying on his pillow. He but just could avoid crushing it with his weight by turning in his fall. He hit the wooden floor hard with his hip and winced. Then he scrambled up and stared at the item that had compelled him to his clumsy fall. His eyes grew wide when he recognized a delicate bouquet of dried crocuses, the stems bound up with a small light blue silk ribbon.

There was no note. Not even a short scribble or some initials on a carbon card or, by lack thereof, a crumpled piece of paper. Nonetheless it wasn't hard to guess who the sender was. Slowly he sank down on the cot. He picked up the little bouquet gingerly, as if afraid the flowers would disintegrate at his touch, and held them to his lips, his eyes closed. The smell still hung faintly about the small flowers; he could easily imagine it was Josephine's subtle perfume. His heart picked up a pace and he felt tears gathering behind his eyelids. He should feel happy and till a certain degree he did. At the same time he felt immensely sad and forlorn. This had never been his intent.

Yes, he knew perfectly well Lady Josephine had lived and had her education in Val Royeaux, and thus undoubtedly had had her fair sharing with the Grand Game. And yet, in his eyes, she was pure and innocent. A perfect example of honesty and loyalty. So different from him… He let out a shivering sigh. Worshipping her from a distance was all he had craved for. She was unblemished, a guiding light, a brilliant star shining from afar and she should stay that way. He should never touch her lest he'd corrupt her with the sins he had committed and that had branded his soul.

He didn't know what to do with this disturbing situation. His treacherous heart made a little jump for joy but his brain knew all too well it was never to be. He didn't know about Leliana's objections, but the Spymaster shouldn't have worried. For the time being he would act as if he didn't know who had placed the flowers on his pillow until he'd found a more permanent solution. He prayed he'd be able to resist the hopeful smile in her eyes.


The Iron Bull and Blackwall had carried Anders to the hastily though enthusiastically refurbished room on the battlements that Hawke shared with Fenris, and had laid him on the bed. Immediately after, Blackwall had headed to his own quarters, claiming he was dead tired, and Bull and Dorian had vanished as well, after an exchanged hot, if not blistering glance. With difficulty Marian had smothered an upcoming girlish giggle. Evelyn had stayed, together with the healer, Cole and Fenris and Hawke.

Stroud had remained with the army because he had become, involuntarily, the most senior Grey Warden after the battle at Adamant Fortress. (The Big Honcho Guy, according to Varric, while Sera called him the Grumpy Gaffer with the Serious Moustache.) Just as Blackwall he was sworn to silence by Leliana. But, frankly, he had bigger issues to fret about at the moment than a collapsed mage. What the Headquarters in Weisshaupt Fortress had to say about the Grey Wardens submitting to the Inquisition, for example. To him Anders was a problem at the background, totally unimportant.

During their journey home Ariane had managed to stabilise Anders with potions they carefully dripped down his throat and some mild spells, nothing too explicit. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness but the fever had subsided and he was no longer trampling and thrashing. The first night they had travelled in a forced march, but in the weeks that followed they could allow keeping a more moderate tempo, as long as they stayed ahead of the army and reached Skyhold in time for a proper treatment. But it wouldn't have benefitted Anders' condition if he'd been tossed around like a ragdoll for weeks in a row.

'Why won't he wake up properly?' Hawke had asked. Most of the trek she had ridden on horseback, blatantly ignoring Fenris's worried glances. She was still far from her old self, but too stubborn to give in to the annoying symptoms her pregnancy saddled her with.

'He's in shock,' the healer had explained, 'and it could well be you're right, Sera Fenris. I think he's having trouble with his spirit's sudden absence, so much that his body reacts forcefully to it.'

Right now Anders appeared to be deeply asleep on the double bed and another spirit, or ex-spirit, or partly spirit, standing next to him, examined the mage in his own unique way.

'The song is ragged, out of tune; it weaves through the blood in the wrong pattern.' Cole looked pained. He stretched out a hand and touched Anders's brow lightly. He closed his eyes and started to speak in a plain tone, '"The emptiness is suffocating … I can hardly think … my thoughts are being torn apart … my head's exploding … or imploding … I must be strong, can't let it show … what have you done …what have I done …"' Cole looked up at his nonplussed audience. 'He is suffering, hurting. He is struggling to survive without Justice making all the decisions, without Justice telling him what to do and how to feel. I think he only now fully realises what he has done and he can't live with it.'

'As I mentioned before, he's in shock,' the healer said pointedly. She seemed not to approve much with whatever Cole was doing to what she considered her patient.

Hawke and Fenris too were looking quite uncomfortable with the situation. The elf especially radiated anxiety. 'What are you doing?' he asked suspiciously. 'Reading his mind?'

'As far as I understand, it's more like feeling someone's mind than reading it,' Evelyn answered instead, sounding confidently. 'I've seen him doing it before, with astonishing results. You can trust him. Of course, Vivienne doesn't.' She could just refrain from making a nasty face.

'Ah,' said Hawke acerbically, 'more the reason for me to do just that.'

'I could be able to find the Darkspawn that have tainted his blood,' Cole suddenly chimed.

A stunned silence fell, finally broken by Evelyn. 'What exactly do you mean?' she informed guardedly.

'They gave their blood for him, they died,' Cole said.

'Put in that way, it sounds like self-sacrifice, or murder,' Hawke mumbled. 'What an unsavoury thought.'

'They died, so they are in the Fade,' Cole continued with watertight logic. 'They cannot go somewhere else, they cannot move on, they're stuck. They don't just disappear. And when I enter the Fade in the right place, I can find their souls.'

'And then what?' Fenris said sarcastically. 'Persuade them to leave him alone?'

Cole seemed to ponder that. 'Something of the kind, yes.'

'Do Darkspawn even have souls?' Evelyn wondered.

'They do,' Cole said convincingly.

'I'm pretty sure the Chantry teach that they are soulless,' Ariane retorted belligerently, defiantly sticking out her chin.

Cole nodded in agreement. 'The Chantry teach many things.' He smiled vaguely. 'They teach that spirits are demons.'

The healer flew up; clearly she was willing to put up a fight. Cole was making her nervous and he was stealing her patient away. She raised her voice. 'I deem what the Chantry say a lot more trustworthy than the sordid fantasies of a spooky imp.'

Cole cocked his head. 'I know you are scared,' he said serenely. '"He is dying on me, what am I doing wrong? The potions are right, but his heart is fluttering, his breath ragged. What have I overlooked – "'

'That's enough Cole,' Evelyn intervened quickly before Ariane had a chance to explode. 'Tell me what you meant with that the song sounds wrong.'

'I don't know,' Cole confessed with his open honesty, 'it just feels that way. I'll have to discover the right Darkspawn to find out.'

Just as everyone else present, Fenris stared incredulously at the boy. 'If you are right, there must be hundreds of thousands of Darkspawn roaming the Fade. How are you ever going to find the right ones? How would you even recognise them?!'

'I'll know when I see them.'

Fenris groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'We're talking in circles,' he muttered.

'What would you need, Cole?' Hawke asked. She thought he qualified as the strangest person, or entity, she'd ever met, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She could not believe he would free Anders of the taint, but perhaps he could keep it at bay for a while, one way or another. At least till the baby was born.

She was astonished to discover she was concerned about Anders. For years she had wished him dead; worse even, had regretted she hadn't killed him herself when she had had the chance. But their encounter in the Fade had changed much. She had not forgiven him for his terrible deed, but… well, in a way perhaps she had. That is to say, she understood that it had been Justice far more than Anders who had been the real criminal. Now she just wished him whole and healthy. Part of her yelled that this was due to her pregnancy, that it made her soft and sentimental. But the part that counted told her she really cared for him, as for a dear friend.

'Somebody should stay with him,' Cole answered, 'to keep an eye on him while I wander in the Fade. You think you can do that?'

Marian smiled at his concerned face. 'I'm pretty sure I can.' She waved airily at Evelyn and Ariane. 'You better go, I bet you have more important things to do than to watch someone sleeping.' She hesitated when she looked at Fenris. 'I was hoping you would sit up with me.'

The elf cocked his head. 'Do you really have to ask?'

'Of course not, but I don't want to force you.'

Fenris chortled softly. 'I'd have thought that by now you'd know you don't have to pussyfoot around me. Right now you rather insult me than force me.' But his loving expression said otherwise.

Marian sent him a tender look in return and sat down on the sofa.

'Then we better let you to it,' Evelyn said. 'I'll have some food and drink send up.'

The healer looked a tad irritably, while Cole just gave Hawke an inscrutable glance from under the wide rim of his hat before he walked out of the door.

He went straight to his trusted spot, the attic above the Herald's Rest, where he felt comfortable and safe and where he could prepare for his dangerous and perhaps even frightful journey unhindered by well intending but nevertheless irksome company.


While they exited the room, Evelyn wished Cullen were here. She very much wanted to talk to him, wishing him to set her mind at ease because she didn't know that she had made the right decision. Anders was, more or less, archenemy number one. Or sooner number two after Corypheus, she realised the next moment. Halfway the Great Hall she grimaced in frustration and pushed him further to number three, considering the danger of the Venatori. And climbing the stairs to her apartment she decided, with an inward groan, he better suited number four, thinking of Samson and his creepy Red Knights. After all, you could hardly blame Anders for all those disasters. She worried her lip; that was why she badly needed Cullen. To keep a foothold to sanity.

Needless to say she was overly pleased when she felt, in the very early hours of the next day, a familiar body crawl against her in her hitherto too large bed. And hear a familiar voice whisper, 'I rode ahead. The army made camp just before the last pass but I couldn't wait any longer.'

She snuggled close to him, happy he had found a middle ground between a rigid sense of duty and his desire to be with her. 'So, now you've braved the pass in the dark too. Nothing to it, hm?! Or do you want to wail like Dorian did?'

'I wouldn't dare,' Cullen grinned. Evelyn chuckled against his chest and she felt his arms fasten around her frame.


In the room on the ramparts Marian sat on the couch staring at Anders while Fenris tried to find some distraction by reading a book by the candlelight.

'Look at him,' she piped up out of the sudden, disconcerted, 'there's nothing left of the mage that stood raving and ranting about the prejudice and discrimination of the Templars and the hostile and bias behaviour mages had to endure. Let alone there remains even a sliver of the once young and energetic Anders in that, that dead-beat body. He's as thin as a rake! He could hide behind a lamppost; Bull could have easily coped on his own! I didn't notice that before.' She felt wretched just seeing him like this.

Fenris put his book aside. 'Robes conceal a lot, I know from experience. But I must admit I was shocked as well; it seems as if he hasn't eaten properly for years.'

'Which is undoubtedly true,' Hawke murmured, 'but it's not just that. He looks so poorly, so … weak, so tattered and dismayed. Even in his sleep.'

Anders looked indeed fragile as a worn-out tool, the way he was lying motionless on the bed, hardly breathing. Fragile and old. His skin was ashen and furrowed with deep lines. His eyes lay sunken in their sockets, shadowed with dark circles, and his strawberry blond hair was streaked with grey, as were his stubbles.

'It's hard to stay angry with him, seeing him like this,' Fenris confessed, 'looking at him I can't find anything of the man I hated and loathed. He resembles more the victim than the offender.'

'I know,' Marian said, with a little shudder. 'Let's hope Cole can achieve something positive in the Fade, though I doubt it. Then again, what will happen when he wakes? What will they do to him? Under the influence of Justice or not, he's still accountable for what he's done, or so they will say.'

She didn't elaborate about the "they" but Fenris guessed she sooner referred to the inhabitants of Thedas than just the people here in Skyhold. Without an answer, because he didn't have any, he just grasped her hand and squeezed it gently.


Cole, in the meantime, was struggling to find what he was looking for. Not because he couldn't locate the place, but because he had to overcome his fear and outright revulsion. Had he thought the realm of the Nightmare was horrible, this was far worse. This was the part of the Fade where the living dead roamed, the monstrosities that could not move on and were doomed to forever linger here. It was not the part of the Fade the common souls crossed on their way to – whatever it was they were trying to reach. Cole didn't know and he had no time to think the question over. He shivered but determinedly straightened his back and started his search.

This was not a real landscape, just a hint at skeletons of dead trees in a grey clammy mist, dank turf that was slippery with putrid mud, a broad meandering river, its surface oily and lathered with sickly scum. The whole environment radiated disease and rot, a dire promise of slow decay till the inevitable end of an undignified death. Amongst the dead trunks and on the bank of the river obscure shadows in frayed rags roamed, their forms and faces grotesquely disfigured in a mockery of human life. All the time a noise sounded, a soft, yet penetrating moaning that slowly became unbearable and tormented the brain.

Cole started to hum under his breath.

He recognized the deceased Darkspawn, lurking in the gloom, confused and disordered without their Archdemon to lead them. They did not even realise they were dead, but all the fierceness and grim brutality had seeped out of them. They didn't even growl at him, though their cold lifeless eyes were perhaps more terrifying than their old red-hot ferocity.

And he recognized the demons that had fallen in disgrace among their own and were cast into this realm of despair. Cole knew, of course, there were feuds and fall-outs and savage rivalry. This was, after all, the territory of the law of the survival of the fittest and those who couldn't cope or keep up ended up here. There were surprisingly many.

And finally Cole reached his goal. It was not the souls of the Darkspawn, not even of the ones that tainted Anders's blood. He was well aware that was not the source of the mage's ailment. He had not lied as such, back in Skyhold, but he had not told the truth either. He had not wanted to upset them. People were so easily upset by him and, frankly, with him as well. Although that didn't count for the Inquisitor and, come to think about it, neither for the former Champion of Kirkwall. And the elf with the lyrium scars, the one that loved the Champion so much he almost glowed with it, got perhaps confused, but not angry. But the healer had reacted in the way he had got used to in this world and he hadn't wished to antagonise her even more. So, no word about the one he was really going to meet and plead with for Anders's life. They thought he was dead. Cole knew he wasn't.

And at this very moment, in this dismal and bleak site he was put in the right. Also he knew he had been right about the song. Close by it sounded even more false and spurious.

Justice sat on a log that was half rotted away by fungus, at the side of a pool filled with dark slimy water, hunched and dirty and miserable. There was no light shining around him, nothing reminded of a spirit, not even of a fallen one.

'You have to let him go,' Cole said without further preamble, 'stop pulling at his mind. You let him think he's hearing the Calling, but what he hears is your song and deep down he knows that. He tries to fight, but it is killing him. Is that what you want?'

Justice heaved his head that was eerily similar to a skull and Cole saw there was still some defiance left. 'He abandoned me.' Justice grimaced spitefully. 'I think he never wanted to battle the Templars and the Chantry, not really. But he let me believe he did.'

'No,' Cole said, 'you made him believe he did.' It was hard to fathom Justice's true thoughts through the jumble of short-circuit brainwaves that went off and on like spluttering candles, let alone Cole could read his feelings.

'He swindled me!' Justice suddenly roared and the nearby shades of the Darkspawn shrank back fearfully. 'He is a coward! He has to pay! He is the wrongdoer, not me!'

'And yet you banned yourself to this place,' Cole said soothingly, 'for what? Out of fear, grief? Is it self-punishment?'

Justice bared his teeth which made him resemble a skull even stronger. 'Don't talk to me like that, boy,' he hissed, his voice dripping with disdain, 'we were supposed to make the world a better place. What would you know about that!'

Because he couldn't reach Justice, Cole attempted to lure him out. 'By murdering people? By frightening them? By setting them up against each other? By bloodshed? By starting a war? That is not justice! That is not you. Let him go, you've tortured him long enough. He just wants peace and quiet.' He tried to reach the spirit's mind once more, but the endeavour turned out to be too difficult, Justice simply was too strong or maybe too clever; he didn't take the bait. Cole changed tack. 'Let me help you,' he implored, 'let me help you to come to terms and to leave this awful place.' He wanted so hard for him to forget, but spirits didn't forget. They simply couldn't. He offered him his hand. 'You don't have to stay here. Let's leave together.'

Justice seemed to contemplate this but then he flew into a rage. 'No! I've spent too much time with that weakling! Made too much effort! Justice is not about forgiveness! I will not forgive him. Never. He. Has. To. Pay!' He lunged for Cole with clawed hands, grabbed his outstretched one and pulled with unexpected strength.

For a precious moment Cole became completely rigid; he had not seen this coming. Justice made use of his shocked disbelief by pulling harder and Cole, in his alarm, could already imagine the icy cold water of the pond closing over his head. But then he came to his senses.

Fast as lightning he drew the dagger that was hidden in his boot with his other hand and thrusted the steel right into Justice's heart before the spirit had the chance to finish him off. An expression of complete astonishment ran across his skull-like face, immediately followed by resignation and even relief. This time Cole was not surprised.

'Thank you,' Justice whispered, 'thank you for freeing me.' And then he toppled almost elegantly backwards into the foul water of the pool. He sank fast and the ripples lazily evened out.

'I am sorry,' Cole said, silently and sad, 'but I could not end your agony in another way. I could not make you forget.' He cocked his head. 'At least now you will never know.'


Anders let out a feeble cry and sat up straight with wide eyes. After a loud gasp he fell back again into the pillows. Hawke, who had drifted asleep on the sofa, started awake but Fenris stood already next to the bed and bent concerned over the mage.

'He's gone.' Anders uttered the words throatily.'He's finally gone.' He closed his eyes and with a smile on his lips floated into a calm, recovering sleep.

'What? Who's gone?' asked Marian, confused, the sleep thick in her voice.

'I think he means Justice,' Fenris said pensively. He rearranged the rumpled sheets and blankets and tucked the mage in as an accomplished nurse. After that he walked over to the side-table and poured Marian a glass of water. 'I suspect Cole went to exorcise Justice and he was too afraid for our reactions to tell it straight to our faces. After all, we thought the dangerous warmonger was gone and more than pleased with it too. At least I was. But Anders was not rid of him, not yet. That's what must have made him so weak.'

Hawke took the proffered glass and drank eagerly. 'He's a clever little spirit, is Cole,' she said, still drowsily.

With a tender gesture Fenris wiped the tousled hair from her brow. His long slender fingers lingered for a moment and caressed her skin. 'Go back to sleep, my love. You need it. We can talk about this in the morning.' He pulled the coverlet back over her frame and kissed her affectionately.

Halfway the night the door opened and Cole entered. He looked anxiously from the sleeping Anders to Fenris who was still standing guard. Or better, sitting guard with still that book in his lap. The elf stood up and nodded reassuringly at him. 'I don't know exactly what you did, but you succeeded.'

'He killed the Nightmare and survived and only then discovered he was again bound to the Fade,' Cole explained, talking about Justice. He still looked a little taken aback. 'He got so scared that he lashed out to the only person he could reach. I don't think he wanted to harm him, he wanted to use him to get back. And when that didn't work, he reacted like a spoiled child.' He bowed his head and his pale blue eyes got covered by strands of his unruly hair and the rim of his large hat. '"Everything is dull here, dull and slow and colourless. Where is the laughter, where are the tumbling thoughts, where is the music of the lyrium?"'

'The music of the…?'

'"I miss the elf; his markings sang so beautifully."'

Fenris had to sit down to digest this.

Cole looked up. 'They do,' he affirmed, 'I can hear it too. A very delicate song, so pure, like the perfect tinkle of small silver bells in the frost of a crisp winter morning.'

Fenris just stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

'I believe Justice fell in love with this world and could not part with it,' Cole went on. 'He is dead now.'

Fenris cleared his throat. 'Dead,' he echoed, his voice a little hoarse, 'you mean dead just like Hope. I, eh, I suspected that much.'

'Yes. He will come to existence again, but as another Justice. And that one will not know.' Cole let out a sigh. 'I will go to my own place now. I need to think.'

'Of course,' Fenris murmured. He wanted him to ask about the lyrium but it could wait. Besides that, he didn't know if he wanted to hear the answers. He reached for his glass of wine and took a little sip. Then he looked at Marian. He resisted the urge of pulling her close and hug her till her bones creaked. She, indeed, needed her sleep, and it could wait till the morning, as did the other matters. And suddenly a smile broke through his concerned expression.

'It seems there are still things that can astound me,' he chortled. 'I should call that a good thing.' He picked up his book and resumed his reading.


Of course there would come a proper end to the whole nasty Justice affair!

By the way, I got the idea of the singing lyrium from the Awakening, you know, the game in which Anders is still a cheery mage with a sense of humour and Justice only a minor nuisance.

Thank you so much for reading!