Thank you for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her thoughtful betaing.

Thule couldn't help watching Cassandra face off against the angry Templar. She was magnificent, her stance firm, her eyes flashing. Everything about her said indomitable. He remembered being on the receiving end of that anger. At the time, he had been scared shitless. Now, thinking back on it, he could only imagine what she would be like if moved to the same passion by a different emotion. Just once in his life, he wanted to see that, he thought in the direction of the Maker. Maybe He couldn't hear, but if any pleas had a chance of making it through, they were those on the behalf of winning a beautiful woman, or so Thule figured. Andraste had called the Maker down from the Golden City, after all.

The Templar stalked off, leaving Cassandra glaring after him, and Thule went to her side. "Is there an issue with the Templars? Can I help?"

"They need to learn that they have uses other than hunting mages. No one can help them with that, but it is not an easy lesson for them to master." She looked down at him. "This is your doing, after all. You created this alliance."

Stung—after all, she had been right there when he had made the decision—Thule snapped, "What other choice did I have?"

"Oh." Cassandra blinked, her face softening just a touch. "I do sound as though I'm blaming you, don't I? I don't disapprove. In fact, you did well. You made a decision when it needed to be made. And here we are. I wish I could say this was my doing."

In truth, Thule wondered why it wasn't her doing. She had begun this Inquisition, after all, and was more than capable of leading, but she chose not to. But he knew from experience how impossible it was to get an answer to a personal question from her. Instead, he grinned up at her. "Flatterer."

"I'm not!" She sighed in aggravation. "This always happens. Nobody ever takes my meaning …" Her words trailed off as his grin widened.

He laughed. "You should see your face."

Cassandra glared at him. "I'm thinking less flattering things now." But there was a hint of a smile at the back of her eyes. Someday, he was going to get a full smile out of her, maybe even a laugh.

Hands in his pockets, Thule made his way down the steps, whistling a cheerful tune. So that was the famous Champion of Kirkwall, was it? He'd known people in the Carta who had had dealings with her—briefly, since most of them ended up dead when they crossed her—and of course had listened to a number of Varric's stories. But none of them had prepared him for the reality of her. She reminded him a small bit of Cassandra, with the height and the slenderness and the dark hair, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Where Cassandra was strength, Hawke seemed more softness, and there was a fear in her that was understandable given what had happened in Kirkwall and since, but made him a bit nervous about trusting her.

King Alistair didn't seem to have that problem. He'd watched her like she was a chest of gold, with some diamonds and a shiny set of armor mixed in. The king of Ferelden in love with the most notorious outlaw in Thedas—Thule felt for him.

His thoughts were disrupted by one of the blacksmiths poking his head out of the armory. "Inquisitor? Excuse me, ser."

"What is it, Kemble?"

"There's something you should see. Inside, ser."

Kemble looked nervous, and nervous blacksmiths were an accident waiting to happen. Thule took his hands out of his pockets and hurried inside, where he could clearly hear the sounds of an argument upstairs, and a familiar Nevarran-accented voice. He sighed. "I'll take care of it," he told Kemble, and started up the stairs.

Cassandra had Varric crowded back against the railings. Thule remembered what it had been like to have that concentrated fury directed at him, and he quickened his steps.

"You knew where Hawke was all along!" Cassandra was shouting, her hands on Varric's collar as she shook him.

Varric pushed her back away from him. "You're damned right I did. If you had ever told me what you wanted her for—but all you did was shout and bully and act suspicious. Can you blame me if I thought you wanted to kill her, or lock her up? I wasn't about to let you get your hands on her!"

Cassandra blinked, then she took a swing at him.

Ducking the blow, Varric ran around the table in Thule's direction. "Have you forgotten that you kidnapped me and dragged me into your interrogation room? Not gently, may I add. What did you expect me to do, serve Hawke up to you on a platter?"

Thule stepped between them. "Enough. This isn't helping anyone."

Cassandra turned to him, her jaw dropping. "How can you be taking his side?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side. This isn't helping the Inquisition. Find another way to work out your frustrations," he told her firmly.

"He could have helped the Inquisition! We needed a leader, and he could have given us one. You kept her from us, lying to me all the time," she said venomously to Varric.

It stung, just a little, that she was still angry about that. Had he not been living up to her expectations?

Varric looked between them, and Thule had the uncomfortable sensation that his fellow dwarf knew exactly what he was thinking. Gesturing in Thule's direction, Varric said, "Have you forgotten that the Inquisition has a leader?"

Cassandra didn't even look at Thule, still rolling on the head of steam she had worked up. "Hawke could have been at the Conclave! If anyone could have saved Most Holy …"

Thule turned away from her. This was still about the Divine. The Divine, whom he had failed to save. Did Cassandra really blame him for that?

"We can't change the past," he said softly, his voice hoarse.

"So I must accept … what? That the Maker wanted this to happen? That He … That He …" She couldn't finish. Clearing her throat, she said, "It doesn't change the fact that Varric lied to me. To us. Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, he kept her hidden."

"She's with us now," Varric protested. "We're all on the same side."

"Are we?" Cassandra asked him. "Are you on the Inquisition's side? Have you ever been?" She made a noise in the back of her throat indicating what she thought the answer was. "I don't think you ever will be."

Thule turned around. "That's not fair. Varric has fought as hard as any of us in the Inquisition's cause. He was with us at Haven; he was the one who pulled Flissa out of the burning tavern, for the Maker's sake! Just because he protected his best friend doesn't make him our enemy."

Cassandra shook her head, still glaring.

Varric put a hand on Thule's shoulder. "Thank you, but I don't think anything you say will make her see this any other way." He started down the stairs, stopping halfway to look up at them over his shoulder. "You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the Temple, she'd be dead, too. Thedas has done enough to her."

The door closed firmly below them, audible even over the hammering of the blacksmiths. Cassandra sighed, leaning against the railing, her head in her hands. "Perhaps I was too hasty. He did bring Hawke to us. Late, perhaps, but he did it."

Thule joined her at the railing. "You can't take your frustrations out on Varric. He is who he is. And he loves Hawke, just as you loved the Divine."

"If I'd only explained what was at stake, if I'd made him understand …"

"There's no way to know if it would have gone any differently."

"No. Perhaps not. But I never did try to explain why we needed Hawke. I shouted at him, I bullied him, but I never talked to him." She left the railing and sank into a chair. "I am such a fool."

Thule turned. "Maybe. It takes strength to recognize your weaknesses and overcome them."

"You are very generous."

He took the seat across from her. Hesitating for a moment, he reached for her hand, closing her long fingers in his. "I still like you, you know."

Cassandra lifted her head, looking into his eyes. She frowned at him. "I'm being serious."

"After all this time, you think I'm not?" He held her gaze.

Her fingers shifted within his, but she didn't pull her hand away or take her eyes off his. "I am sorry if I made it sound as though I regret how things turned out. I don't." Softly, she said, "Maybe … maybe if we had found Hawke, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. And … I can't imagine this Inquisition without you."

The moment passed. Cassandra withdrew her hand, and her gaze, and stood up.

She put her hand on his shoulder briefly. "I don't know how this will end, but in truth, I would have it no other way." She left, her footsteps firm going down the stairs.

Thule remained where he was for a long minute before letting his pent-up breath out in a sigh. From anyone else, it wasn't much, but from Cassandra … Something in her felt what he felt. He was sure of it. And to have her finally admit that she was glad he had come …

Still, he would have to mend this breach between her and Varric somehow. He couldn't have two of his closest companions—closest friends, really—at each other's throats.

He gave Varric most of the afternoon to cool down before hunting him down. It wasn't difficult; he found Varric near his usual table, just standing there staring into the crackling fire. Varric didn't turn as Thule approached. "I know, I know."

"As soon as you knew Hawke was coming here, you should have told Cassandra."

"So she could have killed me then?"

"So she didn't have to hear about it through the grapevine. I think she's earned that."

Varric sighed. "Yeah. Maybe."

"For what it's worth, I think she regrets how things went back there. When we get back from Crestwood, you should talk to her."

Varric shook his head. "I appreciate that you're trying to keep the peace, but … I think things between me and the Seeker are as good as they'll get." He looked down at the table, with all his writing spread across it. "I keep hoping … none of this is real. That maybe it's all some bullshit from the Fade, and it'll just … disappear."

"I don't think it works that way."

"I know. And … I'm sorry."

"It's not me you need to be addressing that apology to. Just … think about it, will you?"

"Yeah. I'll see you when you get back."

They pulled out the next day. Hawke and her elf friend and the king had left with his retinue a couple of days ago. Thule and his people had some errands to take care of along the way before they met with Scout Harding and her people outside Crestwood, which should give Hawke time to find her sister.

Resting at a camp in the Hinterlands, Thule got himself pulled into an intense game of diamondback with Blackwall. The Grey Warden played an old-fashioned variant of the game, which Thule found entertaining. They were about equally matched in skill, so the piles of sticks they were betting with didn't change much.

Solas had disappeared into his tent shortly after they made camp, as usual. Walking the Fade, no doubt. Thule had to admit to some curiosity about the Fade. He'd never been there himself, and wasn't really sure he understood the concept of dreams. Pictures in your head while you were sleeping? It sounded like an interesting novelty, but not something he'd like to experience on a regular basis.

At last, Blackwall squared the deck of cards and tucked it away into his jacket. "I think I'll turn in, Inquisitor."

"Good-night. We're off to Crestwood in the morning." Casually, Thule added, "Scout Harding's meeting us there with some of her people."

"Oh, is she?" Blackwall said, equally casually. "She'll have a proper camp set up, no doubt. Very … um, capable girl."

"Isn't she, though?" Thule held his grin back with some difficulty. So he was a meddling fool as well as a romantic one, but he did like to see his people happy whenever possible. In Blackwall's case, that meant being brought along any time they were likely to cross Harding's path. Someday maybe he'd even get Blackwall to admit to his inclination toward the dwarven scout.

Harding was cute, Thule had to admit, but she didn't do anything to his pulse rate. The former Seeker, on the other hand … He went in search of Cassandra, whom he hadn't seen in some time, and found her sitting on a stump outside her tent, reading by the dim light of a lantern. Whatever it was, she was so engrossed in it, she didn't look up as he approached. It didn't look much like one of Cullen's reports, either.

He craned his neck to look over her shoulder. "Good book?"

She leaped up, startled, her shoulder cracking painfully into his jaw. Thule stumbled back, groaning and holding his face, and Cassandra used his distraction to hide the book behind her back. "I was … um … just reading a report. From Commander Cullen."

Thule raised his eyebrows, working his jaw to make sure there was no permanent damage. "Right. Has anyone ever told you that you're an excellent liar?"

"No."

"There's a reason for that." He grinned at her, carefully, and found it didn't hurt.

Cassandra frowned down at him, that irritated frown that he liked to think said she found him cute despite herself. "It's of no interest to you, I'm certain."

He waited.

"It's a book," she said at last, exasperated.

"Uh-huh."

"It's … Oh, fine!" she snapped. "It's one of Varric's tales. Swords & Shields. The latest installment."

Thule couldn't help it. He gave a great shout of laughter, and then had a hard time getting himself under control. Cassandra didn't help, glaring at him as though she didn't see what was so funny. Well, probably she didn't, he thought. She didn't seem to think he was cute at the moment, either. He cleared his throat. "You have to admit, it explains why you were so angry—you were mad at yourself for falling for his stories, and mad at him for failing to live up to your expectations."

After a pause she muttered, unwillingly, "Possibly."

"I don't know why you thought you had to hide it from me. There's nothing wrong with liking to read."

"It's frivolous. I—there are more important things I should be doing."

"At night? In camp? I was playing diamondback. At least you were … um … improving your mind." That part might have been laying it on a bit thick, but she relaxed a little.

"Just … whatever you do, don't tell Varric."

Oh, he was definitely going to be telling Varric. This might be just the thing to reconcile the two of them. He went to her and took the book out from behind her back, turning it over in his hands. "Maybe I should read it."

She snatched it back. "No!"

"Why not?"

"You—You're the Inquisitor."

"I see." He frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose you're right; turning the pages could give me a nasty paper cut. Can't have that." He grinned up at her. "I know! I could have someone read it to me. You wouldn't know anyone who might want to volunteer, would you?"

For a moment, he thought she might actually be tempted to tease him back. Then she shook her head, groaning with disgust. "You are impossible!" And she stalked off to her tent.

"Impossible to resist, I hope," Thule whispered to himself before retiring to his own tent, to lie there and imagine her reading to him, her voice soft and low in his ear, a fantasy he could tell he was going to be returning to again and again. That stubborn, magnificent woman was going to be the death of him.

Alistair was torn. Everything in him wanted to get close to Lilias, to stay there and never be parted from her, but they had been down that road before, and it had gone badly for them both. So he kept his distance as much as he could, watching her, wondering what she had been doing all this time, where she had been … what was between her and the elf who clung so closely to her side. Lilias and Merrill didn't touch each other like lovers, but they spoke to one another with the ease of long intimacy.

He couldn't help noticing that there were dark circles smudged heavily below Lilias's beautiful blue eyes, that her wide mouth didn't form a smile as easily as he remembered. When was the last time she had laughed, truly laughed, he wondered. Could he make her laugh again? Should he?

The song came again, snatches of a melody that made him want to chase after it, to soothe the itch it made in his mind by hearing the whole song, and he felt chilled. Was this what all the Wardens were hearing, this Corypheus calling in their heads? Where had the Amaranthine Wardens gone? Why had they not tried to contact him before they disappeared?

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. Between the woman and the darkspawn, he was going to go out of his mind. Funny how the world turned—he'd been in this same position before. And he really didn't want to think about how that had ended.