Amaryllis had thought their first journey up the mountain had been bad enough. But this? This was proving to be far, far worse than she could have ever imagined.

Though there were no rifts to be seen, other than the ginormous one in the sky above them, demons continued to appear seemingly out of nowhere. Without the overwhelming anxiety gnawing at her as it had before, Amaryllis could feel how thin the Veil had grown, how its threads had twisted and torn to shreds. Tendrils of the Fade curled up towards the breach like smoke, tinging the air green.

Setheneran, she thought. She had never felt such a pull before. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. It felt like want, like need, like dying, but somehow living. She had never felt such intensity from the Fade until then. I don't like this.

They had just finished fighting for the second time - wisps and shades and terror demons, creatures that made such sounds that she wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep without nightmares for weeks to come - and thankfully had stayed intact. No soldier had yet to fall, though many had already grown weary, and from what Amaryllis could tell, they were nowhere near the finish line. She worried they wouldn't survive.

"Forward, again," the Commander called out, sheathing his sword and taking in the condition of his troops. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, for he turned quickly, and motioned for them to continue on.

It was another few minutes of trudging up the path through the snow, hoping the freezing winds would let up, if only for a moment, when they came across more demons. Cullen did not have to yell out a command to charge, this time. They knew what they had to do.

Soldiers swung their swords left and right, stabbing daggers into the torsos of the demons. Varric took to the back, nocking arrows into his crossbow faster than Amaryllis' eyes could move. Solas began throwing up barriers, but he could not cover them all, so Amaryllis stood her ground and brought the borrowed staff in front of her, raising it slowly above her head. She focused on her spell, the way the Fade flowed through her veins and curled into the tips of her fingers, swirling like a growing storm. Yet when it left her hands it was calm, enveloping those fighting in a shimmer of blue. She had always felt that protective magic was the most beautiful of all. It stayed serene, peaceful, undisturbed, even in the midst of battle. Even when she was anything but.

Barriers didn't last forever, though, and running on fumes as she was, reluctant to sip at her potions when they were still unsure of what or how much lied ahead, it wasn't long before it fell. The borrowed staff felt too awkward in her hands: the wrong weight and the wrong height. It slipped through her grasp, its base banging on a stone beneath, and sent out a flurry of ice. Thankfully her mistake worked in their favor and froze a Shade where it had pulled back, preparing its attack.

"Nice one," Varric called out. The wind whipped her braid back as she turned to see him smiling. "Now if you could do that to the rest of these bastards, we'd be outta here in no time."

This time she smiled back, preparing a retort, when someone cried out. A Templar.

He fell to his knees and held a hand to his face where his casque had been knocked away by a Shade. It landed upon the ground beside him with a sharp thud. Blood poured over his gloved fingers, dripping down his breastplate. The Shade rushed forward again, slashing at the Templar's armor.

Amaryllis didn't hesitate in her attack. She ran towards him, swinging her staff around her head, and plunged the base into the Shade's side, sending it tumbling backwards. Before it could rise again she threw a barrage of energy into its torso and watched with satisfaction as it disintegrated into wisps of raw Fade, curling up towards the sky. Amaryllis fell quickly to her knees beside the man.

"Are you alright?" she asked, reaching for his hands without hesitation. The Templar flinched away, his gaze dark with Amaryllis could only assume was suspicion and anger, but she ignored it altogether, instead grabbing for her pack where she knew her potions to be. She didn't even think to ask whether he still had his own potions, just dug around inside her bag until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a vial a color far more similar to the color of blood than wine, she popped the top, reaching an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to help him sit up. "Here, drink this. Slowly."

The man's lip curled, close to a sneer, looking from the vial to Amaryllis. He watched her for a moment, his gaze flickering back and forth, until it seemed he came to the conclusion he wanted, and pulled his hand away from his face. Where he had been slashed, the skin peeled back, shrunken in like the decayed skin of an apple. His blood didn't slow. It oozed from his wound, and as he leaned forward to sip at the potion, she could see where it had cut too deep, exposing the fat of his cheek. She grimaced at the sight.

As the Templar drank his wound began to heal, his skin sewing itself back together. Soon it had gone and if not for the blood staining his flesh, it would have been impossible to recognize he had ever been injured in the first place.

The sight of him, healed and unhurt, caused Amaryllis to smile. She got to her feet and flipped the top of the bottle back into place. The Templar stood too, though his legs wobbled slightly.

"Oh, here," as Amaryllis dropped the potion back into her bag she simultaneously pulled out the bread she had bought from the tavern what seemed like eons ago. It was a little hard around the edges, and not quite the size it had been after being squashed, but when she pulled it apart it was still soft inside. She went to hand the man a piece but noticed his gloves were still caked in blood. "Uh, maybe, uh," Amaryllis made an attempt to feed him, and felt her cheeks growing a bit red, but thankfully he pulled the glove off his right hand and took the bread from her. "There. That should help."

He looked again between the bread in his hand and the mage before him, then lifted the bread to his lips, took a bite, and grunted out a "thank ye."

She nodded her welcome and turned away to take in the rest of their group. The fight had ended, though not without a few injuries. From her periphery she could see Varric, tending to his weapon. Solas, tending to another injured warrior. And Cullen, though she allowed her gaze to slip right over him. She worried their eyes would meet. She worried that she'd look at him, see his face once again, and it would bring back memories of a life she hadn't permitted herself to remember. There was nothing she could do to go back. She couldn't.

So Amaryllis reached back into her bag, pulled out the used potion, and got to work.

The forward camp had been a blur of movement: scouts gathering messages, people arguing loudly, fiercely, and wounded, sitting in a row against the bridge's parapet, holding their bandage-wrapped limbs close. They'd long since run out of potions - a box of empty bottles sat beside them as if mocking their pain. Seeing what had been available at Haven, Amaryllis knew they would likely be waiting for quite a while. She didn't hesitate to hand them one of her own.

When she had risen from where she kneeled beside them, handing out pieces of bread yet again, Amaryllis turned to see Cullen watching her from across the bridge, where he, Varric, and Solas stood with Leliana. Their eyes had locked for a split second and though she had rushed to look away, to bring her focus to anything but the Commander, anyone other than Cullen Stanton Rutherford, it had been enough.

She had to close her eyes against the onslaught of memories. Amaryllis could still feel Akasha's hand in hers, her sister's cry as she took her last breath, the way Akasha's fingers had slipped through her own, her touch like a phantom upon Amaryllis' skin. Her throat ached with the tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed in so long. And still she fought them back, swallowed past the pain, breathed until her orders were given and they were on their way once more.

And as the gates had begun to close behind them, their forces now separated into two groups, Varric called out from the bridge. He turned, walking backwards towards the opposite gate, and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hey kid," he shouted. "Your sister!" The urgency in his voice caused her heart to skip a beat. "She's awake!"

The gates shut before she could react to the news. For a moment she stood, stunned. Then, for the first time in what felt like decades, her lips curled up into a smile so bright, so euphoric, she felt as if her cheeks might burst.

The Templar she had helped previously stopped beside her, his blue eyes observing her for a brief moment before he spoke gruffly. "Not going back?"

"Back?" she asked. "Back where?"

"Your sister. She'll want to see ye. I'd imagine ye want to see her, too."

Amaryllis shook her head. "I will see her soon enough. And besides, I've got a job to do."

The man watched her for a moment, then nodded, and motioned for her to walk with him. Though she was still wary of Templars, and knew exactly what one could do to her, she chose, in that moment, to walk by his side. She couldn't imagine that after helping him he'd try to hurt her, now.

He cleared his throat and scrubbed at the dark brown stubble upon his chin. "The name's Emil. Templar-Recruit."

"It's nice to meet you, Emil, Templar-Recruit," she reached out a hand. "I'm Amaryllis."

He looked down, his lips twitching as if he were fighting a grin, and he shook her outstretched hand.

Sorry guys, for some reason FFN won't accept any kind of formatting I attempt, so this might look kinda wonky. If you're wanting to read this with some actually decent formatting, I'd suggest going to Ao3 - my username is ar_lath_ma