Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her speedy and thoughtful betaing!

When the knock came on the door, Lilias hurried to get to it before Bodahn could. It was entirely beneath the dignity of a grown woman, the Champion of Kirkwall, to be running to the door because a suitor was calling … but there was something about Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden. The warmth of his eyes, his smile, his laugh …

The rational part of her mind knew this was a bad idea. He was the monarch of a country that desperately needed him and his leadership; she was the daughter of an apostate, and too entangled in the affairs of Kirkwall to leave. Nothing could come of this.

But that didn't stop her from practically flinging the door open.

He stood there on her doorstep, grinning at her over a … handful of fluff. Lilias frowned at him, tilting her head in question.

"It's … wool. Because—woolgathering? But I gathered it all already …" He ducked his head sheepishly. "Maybe it was a reach."

Lilias took the bouquet of wool from his hands. "It's lovely wool, and gathered so nicely." She buried her nose in it and breathed in deeply. "Mmm. Sheepy."

Alistair chuckled. "So, is it the worst thing anyone has ever brought you?"

"You've met my friends, and you can still ask me that?"

"I suppose you have a point." He held out an arm. "Shall we?"

What are you doing, Lilias? she asked herself, but she took his arm anyway and let him lead her out into Kirkwall's streets.

Lilias looked over at her companion. "Thank you for coming with me, Merrill."

"Of course!" The elf's green eyes were warm as they rested on Lilias's face. "You always went everywhere we asked you to go, lethallan, and without asking any questions. Even if none of the others remember that, I do. Whatever you need of me, you have, and for as long as you need it."

Reaching out, she took the elf's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you."

"No thanks required. Besides," Merrill said more practically, looking up at the imposing edifice of Skyhold, "Tarasyl'an Te'las was a place of the elves once. I'm glad to have the chance to see it for myself."

Lilias looked at it as well. It looked more Fereldan than elvish to her, but then, who knew what had happened to it over the centuries. Varric's letter had been rather sketchy about the details of how the Inquisition had come here in the first place.

She thought about him, and the others. The picture Merrill painted was rather more black and white than it needed to be—the others had all offered help, in their various ways, after Anders had blown up the Chantry and it became evident that Lilias was going to end up taking part of the blame for that; deservedly, in her opinion. Aveline had offered her a position with the city guard, and protection—but Lilias couldn't have stayed in Kirkwall after what had happened. Sebastian had offered a chaste marriage and the position of Princess of Starkhaven, with all that that implied, but Lilias didn't want to tie him to someone with her reputation, not when he had just retaken his city.

Isabela had offered piracy and adventure and the run of the captain's cabin—and the captain—and Varric had lied to the Seekers through his teeth, and ended up embroiled in their Inquisition for his pains. Even Fenris had offered to let her come with him, when she told him to leave rather than fight at her side in a cause that went against everything he believed. He would have fought … but she didn't want his conscience on hers.

Instead, it had been Merrill who had stayed with her, willingly going into hiding and drifting through the forests all the way back to the Fereldan mud they had both missed so much.

And now here they were, responding to Varric's summons and riding into the mouth of the Inquisition, right into the hands of the very Seekers who had been hunting them. Had the request come from anyone other than Varric, Lilias would never have agreed. But he had asked, and here she was.

"I can't believe Corypheus isn't dead," Lilias muttered.

"What's that?"

"Corypheus. Varric said he's the creature who caused the Breach and the explosion at the Conclave."

"You killed him," Merrill pointed out.

"I know we did." Lilias and Varric, Fenris, and her sister Bethany, who was a Grey Warden stationed in Ferelden, had journeyed far into the desert and fought an ancient darkspawn magister imprisoned for centuries by the Wardens. But they had defeated him, and killed him. There had been no life left in that body, Lilias was sure of it.

"So Varric was mistaken?"

"Unlikely." It was a conversation they had had many times over the course of their journey here, and all it did was bring up Lilias's concerns about Bethany. They had been in communication for some time, but Bethany had gone silent after asking Lilias to meet her in a remote cave in northern Ferelden. Once she had seen Varric in Skyhold and told her story about Corypheus for the Inquisitor, Lilias would be leaving to find her sister, and hoped that she was okay. Her last message had been cryptic at best.

"She will be all right, lethallan," Merrill assured her, for at least the twentieth time.

"Maybe. I hope so."

They were approaching the gates of Skyhold now, which opened for them. Inside, Lilias told the gate guard that they were looking for Varric, and he directed them into the main keep. Next to her, Merrill gasped softly. Lilias turned to follow the direction of the elf's gaze—and found herself looking straight at the last person she expected to see in a hidden keep in the mountains. Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden.

He was staring right at her, and she could feel his gaze across every inch of the distance that separated them. And, Maker help her, the traitorous heart that had never been able to entirely let him go gave a leap at the sight of him, so tall and broad of shoulder.

Thanking the gate guard for the directions, Lilias started in the direction of the keep, in the vain hope that she could reach Varric before Alistair reached her, but it wasn't to be. He met her at the top of the stairs.

"Lilias."

She didn't miss the stress he laid on her name, and she stiffened at the memory. "Your Majesty." When he didn't move, she asked, "What brings you to Skyhold?"

He shrugged. "It's a major installation perched right on my border. I'd have been remiss in my duty to the country if I didn't look into it myself."

"Well. Good for you. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"I …" He glanced over her shoulder at Merrill. "Maybe we can talk later."

"Maybe." Lilias kept her eyes down. She didn't want to look at his face or see his smile and be tempted down that path again. There was nothing there for her but pain and a heart already claimed, another woman's name written across it in letters of fire. "For now …"

He moved, and she hurried past him, cursing the fact that she could still feel the tingle of awareness where her arm had brushed against his.

Inside the keep, she was able to put Alistair out of her mind when she saw Varric's face light up at the sight of her. He got to his feet, putting down his ever-present quill, and she bent to hug him. Merrill was right behind her, waiting her turn, and the three of them were a laughing mess for a few minutes.

When they finally calmed a bit, Varric showed them to the room they'd been given for the duration of their stay. He closed the door behind him, and Lilias couldn't wait any longer. "Couldn't you have given me some warning, Varric?"

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I didn't know he was coming until I knew it was too late for a message to reach you."

She looked at him carefully, but couldn't see any sign that he was being anything less than honest. It was hard to tell with Varric sometimes—she wouldn't have put it past him to keep Alistair's presence a secret just to see what would happen.

But that was unfair. She reminded herself that he had left Alistair almost entirely out of The Tale of the Champion, without her even having to ask.

"I can try to get rid of him," Varric offered.

"No. No need. I have to leave as soon as I can—I need to find Bethany."

"Missing Grey Wardens?"

"How do you know?"

"We've heard. Nightingale's all torn up about it. She's got a soft spot for Grey Wardens since …"

He didn't need to finish. Lilias knew all too well how her cousin had affected everyone she'd ever touched. She had seen it in Sister Nightingale's eyes when they had met briefly in Kirkwall, just as she had seen it in Cullen's eyes, and in Alistair's, and she cursed the unfortunate family resemblance all over again.

"Speaking of … She wants to see you, and so does Curly. They've set up a meeting in the War Room for first thing in the morning so you can tell everyone about Corypheus."

"Didn't you?"

Varric shrugged. "They wanted to hear it from the Hawke's mouth, as it were, and since they have an Inquisitor now, I thought it was safe enough."

"Is that what they wanted?" Merrill asked in surprise. "For Hawke to be the Inquisitor?"

"It's what the Seeker says, at any rate."

Lilias sank onto the bed, sighing. "Varric, can you have something sent up to eat? I'm tired—and I don't want to … I don't want to see him again." She didn't have a prayer of avoiding him the entire time, but just one evening surely wasn't too much to ask, was it?

"Sure, Hawke." He glanced at Merrill. "What about you, Daisy, you want to see some of the place?"

"Yes, please, Varric."

They left, and Lilias sank back onto the bed, rubbing her temples, wondering why she had let herself be talked into coming here.

The next morning came all too soon and not soon enough. Lilias was looking forward to getting this meeting done so she could leave, but she dreaded it at the same time. And it didn't help that Merrill had very much enjoyed her tour of Skyhold. It had been conducted by an apostate elf who both was and wasn't Dalish, if Lilias understood Merrill rightly, and the two of them seemed to have gotten along famously.

Lilias tried to be happy that her friend was enjoying herself, but she was too keyed up. It got worse as Varric escorted her to the War Room, which was filled with people.

"Everyone, Hawke. Hawke, everyone."

She nodded at 'everyone', looking around the room. Sister Nightingale looked older and harder than Lilias remembered from Kirkwall; Cullen looked exhausted, which was nothing new, but there was pain in his face, too, as he nodded at her, and it looked like more than the familiar pain of him being reminded of her cousin.

A dark-haired woman with a scar slashed across her cheek nodded, too, slightly less cordially. "So you are Hawke. And Varric knew where you were all along." She cast the dwarf a glance that boded poorly for him.

"More or less," Lilias said guardedly.

Another dark-haired woman smiled at her. "Josephine Montilyet, Lady Hawke. Ambassador for the Inquisition. I am pleased to meet you at last."

"That's not most people's reaction."

"I think you'll find that no one in the Inquisition is most people." A red-haired dwarf came toward her, bowing. "Thule Cadash, Inquisitor."

"Carta?" she asked him, recognizing the tattoo that framed his eyes and ran down across his mouth.

He grinned. "Formerly."

"Of course."

Behind her, the door opened, and in walked the King of Ferelden. "Sorry I'm late." He was standing right next to her and she could feel the heat from his body.

Hastily, before she could lean against him and soak up some of that heat, Lilias stepped farther into the room, looking down at the vast table marked with maps of Ferelden and Orlais. "You all called me here," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"You fought Corypheus," Sister Nightingale said. "We wanted to know about it."

"You could have just asked Varric."

"I thought you needed to be part of this, Hawke," Varric said. He glanced down at his boots. "We thought we'd killed him, but we were wrong, and …"

"I think Varric thought you'd want to have a hand in killing him again," Thule finished for him.

"Once seemed like enough for me," Lilias said.

"Apparently Corypheus felt differently." The Seeker had her arms folded across her chest.

"So I hear. But I also hear that you dropped half a mountain on him, and that didn't stop him. I'm not sure I can tell you anything that wouldn't pale in comparison."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, twisting his head a little. "Corypheus has already killed the Divine, along with countless others … and he will do it again unless we stop him."

Lilias looked at him. "I'm sorry. I truly don't know how he survived. He was dead! I checked his body myself."

Alistair had somehow moved so that he was standing next to her again, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No one's blaming you."

She was by no means convinced that he was right—the looks on Sister Nightingale and the Seeker's faces certainly indicated distrust, if not outright blame—and his hand felt entirely too good where it was. Lilias twisted away from him.

"You've already sealed the Breach," she said, looking down at Thule. "What more?"

There were glances between the Inquisitor, the Ambassador, Cullen, and Sister Nightingale. Thule said, "We have reason to believe that Corypheus is attempting to create an army of demons."

Varric said softly, "That bastard."

"If you think I can help …" Lilias thought back to that tower. "The Grey Wardens were holding him in a prison in the Vimmarks." She frowned. "Somehow he used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them." Bethany had fought the invisible voice in her head at every step through the tower, and her usually formidable magic had been significantly weakened when they faced Corypheus. The other Warden mage, Janeka, hadn't even been able to lift her staff against him.

Alistair drew in a breath next to her, and she glanced at him, concerned, but he wasn't looking at her. He was rubbing his temples as though something hurt his head.

"Could that be why the Wardens have disappeared?" Thule glanced at Sister Nightingale. "Those notes we found on the Storm Coast, they were chasing someone they referred to only as 'him'. Could have been Corypheus."

"He messed with their minds and turned them against each other in the prison," Varric said. "He could have done the same thing on a grander scale now that he's free."

Lilias clenched her fist. She wanted to run out of the room to get to Bethany faster.

"What is it?" Alistair asked her in a low voice.

"My sister."

"Of course. She's with the Fereldan Wardens."

"Sweet little Bethany? I spent so much time with her in the Chantry in Lothering," Sister Nightingale said, her face lighting up. For a moment, she looked like an entirely different person.

"I remember," Lilias said. She tried not to think of those days, when her father and Carver had still been alive, and their biggest worries had been hiding Father and Bethany from the Templars. Bethany's friendship with Sister Leliana had been important to her then, as had her faith, and Lilias was glad the Inquisition's spymaster remembered her sister with as much fondness.

"Do you think we can free the Wardens, if that's what happened to them?" Thule asked.

"In the prison, Bethany fought against Corypheus's call, but … I don't know. When he was dead, the mage Janeka seemed different, somehow, stronger maybe. So if we kill him, maybe that helps … but without killing him, I don't know." She made the decision to trust these people. "Bethany was investigating corruption in the Warden ranks. She sent me a message to meet her in Crestwood, but since then, nothing."

"I know where that is," Alistair said.

"If you can get to your sister, we can find out more about what effect Corypheus is having on the Wardens," Sister Nightingale said.

"We can take my horses. They're faster than walking."

Everything in Lilias wanted to accept Alistair's offer, but could she trust herself with him that long? He seemed determined to act as though there were still something between them, and she wasn't sure how long she could fight both him and her own heart.

"That does seem best," Thule agreed. "My team and I can follow you in a couple of days, meet you in Crestwood."

"No time like the present, then." Lilias nodded to the group assembled. "Are you ready, Your Majesty?"

"I'll go have the horses saddled." He suited the action to the words, leaving the room without any further ado.

Varric and Thule walked Lilias down the hall on their way to go get Merrill. "We'll see you in a few days, Champion," the Inquisitor promised.

"Do you want me to come with you, Hawke?"

"No, Varric. Merrill will be with me—I'll be fine."

He looked uncomfortable, and Alistair's name hung in the air between them, unspoken.

Cullen left the War Room, his head pounding. The appearance of Leyden's cousin hadn't helped with that in the least. Hawke looked thinner than he remembered, more tired, a bit older. Those should have led to her looking less like the young, vibrant Leyden he remembered, but all he could think of was what Leyden would look like now.

He dwelt on the Tower entirely too much, he knew that. But it had been the scene of all the most emotional moments of his life—the joy he had felt in Leyden's arms, and the terror of the mage uprising under Uldred. Compared to those, anything he had experienced in Kirkwall paled.

The headache was spearing into the back of his eyeball now, and he blinked, the eye watering just a bit. If he could just make it to his office …

"Commander!"

Whoever was calling him had to repeat the title twice more before Cullen could process through the pain that it was he who was being called.

He turned to see the Inquisition's arcanist, Dagna, hurrying toward him. He had been instrumental in bringing her to Skyhold; she had helped him immeasurably in the days after the uprising at the Circle: her cheerfulness, her potions, her understanding of magic and the way she looked at it as something to study, something to be understood. Talking with her had altered his own conception of magic and mages, and had enabled him to move on from those dark days and function somewhat normally again. He owed her a deep debt, and was very glad to have her here in Skyhold.

He forced a smile for her that he couldn't have managed for anyone else, but Dagna knew him well enough to see past it.

"Commander?" She was looked at him with concern.

"I'm sorry. I was—lost in thought." Cullen took a deep breath, willing the pain to recede to the back of his mind. There was a purpose to this suffering, he reminded himself. He was doing it for a reason. It would get better.

"I caught you at a bad time."

"No, this is fine. Shall we go up to my office?"

"After you, Commander."

Dagna was unusually quiet as they walked up the stairs, which Cullen was grateful for. He was grateful for the dwarf's presence in the first place—having someone else in the office removed the temptation. He should get rid of the box of philters and their paraphernalia, he told himself … but he wasn't quite strong enough. Not yet.

He took the seat behind his desk and motioned Dagna to the one opposite. "How is the work coming along? Do you find the Undercroft suitable for your purposes?"

"Oh, yes! More than suitable. It's a little like Orzammar … without the noise." She smiled.

"Surely Harritt and his endless hammering …"

Dagna giggled. "Nothing compared to a whole roomful of smiths. Of course, he says I talk more than any roomful of smiths he's ever been in, but he's never been to Orzammar. Any smith there could talk the hind leg off a bronto and keep going for days."

"No doubt." Cullen was having a hard time focusing on her words; the pain was back and threatening to split his head in two. He gritted his teeth against it; there was no time for this.

"Commander." Dagna was watching him, her head cocked to the side. He knew that look—it was her studying look, the one that said there was a mystery in front of her she was bound to figure out.

"I'm all right, Dagna, really. Just … all the work."

"Why don't you get an assistant?"

He smiled at that, albeit weakly. "It would take longer to tell someone else what I wanted done than to do it myself." Cullen didn't add that Dagna had refused an arcanist's assistant for the same reason, but her answering smile said she heard him anyway.

"Well, then, I'll leave you to it, but perhaps we could have dinner sometime? Catch up? When the work slows, of course."

"I would like that. When the work slows."

"I'll hold you to it, Commander." She left the office, and Cullen sat looking at the door she had gone through for a moment. She would, certainly, hold him to it, and some part of him looked forward to a meal with someone who knew him so well, the darkness in him as well as the light. But another part wished she hadn't come, so that he could contain his suffering without risking anyone seeing it.