A/N: Thank you to 0wallie0 for beta reading, and to everyone who follows this story :3

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"You know, I have to say I'm a bit impressed with Curly," Varric offered as they trudged up a snowy embankment. "I would've thought he'd pull all those curls of his out before he'd let mages have their run of the Inquisition."

Sera scoffed. "Piss. Not really running shite, yeah?" She kicked at the snow a little, easily trotting across it. "Just casting a spell here and there. Nothing fancy. Though I don't like it when they try to cast on me. Tingles wrong."

"There's a right kind of tingly?" Varric laughed.

"Finley's kind's not so… It's not so loud. It's there, but it's quiet like. Doesn't go raising the hairs on your neck." With a sideways glance, Sera shrugged a little. "Still weird, but not bad weird."

Despite not liking Sera's blatant aversion to magic, Finley found her comments more curious than offensive. "You can feel a difference in magic based on the caster?"

Sera shrugged. "Can't everyone?"

In Finley's experience, those without magic tended to have duller senses, but she supposed if a person was used to a certain mage's magic after a long enough frame of time, they might be able to tell the difference between it and other casters' spells.

And it wasn't as though she had ever really asked non-mages much about it. Prior to the Inquisition, she'd rarely spent time with anyone, and those few she did interact with were typically other apostates. Or templars, though those interactions were generally not so pleasant.

Finley turned her gaze toward Varric, head tilting. "Can you?"

"Not really, but you have to remember, I'm a dwarf," Varric pointed out as he trudged through the frost. "We're so far removed from the Fade, we're lucky we can tell when it's setting us on fire."

Sera rolled her eyes and made a quick quip about his sarcasm.

Finley reached out and patted Sera's shoulder, smiling. "You're probably right." The elf shrugged, though she did perk up, a bit more of a swagger in her walk. As she let her hand drop, Finley tugged on the cloak she'd been given. That they'd even had any extra ones was depressing. No one had had time to grab extra supplies, and as a result, she was once again depending on the dead to offer contributions.

Chancellor Roderick hadn't made it.

So many hadn't.

All she'd done, and again, too many were dead.

At least…at least no one seemed to blame her for the atrocities this time.

Funny how that didn't seem to make it better…

She tried not to think about it. "I don't think we have to worry about Commander Rutherford. He's very professional."

"You…might wanna be careful there, Stardust," Varric said, words a staccato as though he weren't sure he wanted to warn her or not. Even as she gave him a questioning look and he simply shook his head, they came to the top of the slope. A vast, snowy expanse stretched out before them, mountains climbing toward the sky on all sides. His shoulders fell. "Did Chuckles say how far this keep was from Haven?"

"Far enough. Like all that elfie stuff, it's just gotta be out of the way. At least it's gotta do better than a raggy little village. Won't shite ourselves the first time something glares at us," Sera muttered. As Varric and Finley sighed, she added, "Commander Knows Everything should have seen that one coming."

"Don't blame him," Finley objected, lightly hitting Sera on her arm. "I don't think anyone could have seen an archdemon coming. Or a darkspawn magister."

"You've got it all wrong." She tapped her head for emphasis. "He's a general for a reason. Their job is to see all that, yeah? Soldiers and traps, that stuff." Sera snapped. Then, she shrugged, seeming to lose interest in their current topic of conversation. "So is this keep gonna be really elfie?"

"He didn't say," Finley murmured, letting her gaze sweep over the snow before them. Everyone would be so disappointed when they followed over the latest ridge. They'd been traveling for almost a week, and it felt like they were no closer to being safe than when they'd first left.

The mages had opted to wait to join them fully until they found their new stronghold. While some whispered that they were waiting to see if the Inquisition wouldn't just wander its way off a cliff, Finley thought it made sense. They barely had enough resources to sustain the numbers they had, and more mages meant more mouths to feed and more people to shelter.

The mages who had come were dutifully assisting with the upkeep of the wards, though even with them, it still felt like they were losing ground every day. The mages had been talking about asking for more of their brethren to join them, but they'd decided against it.

Finley had been a bit disappointed by their decision—after all, more mages in general meant less templars watching her at any given moment, as they would have to split their attention.

Selfishness aside, more like than not, the templars would adjust to mages being around better if they felt marginally safe. And they would feel safer if they had a home.

Waiting would be for the best.

And it wouldn't be much longer, surely.

Solas had promised the keep was to the north, and she trusted him. After all, he had yet to mislead her. It had been hard to tear her away from the infirmary after she was well enough to move about—she'd worried the templars might think her suspicious if she wasn't dutifully healing—but Solas had made her a deal. He and Cole would stay behind to help, if she would lead the way to Skyhold.

Even so…

She'd thought it would make more sense if Solas did the leading, as he knew where to go, but he'd simply promised to assist her if they seemed to be wandering in the wrong direction. Every morning, he made sure to point out some dip in the mountains ahead for her to aim towards, and then he was gone with their spirit to tend to the wounded.

While Finley still didn't quite trust Cole, she had to admit that he was useful.

And he didn't feel demonic.

And Solas trusted him so completely.

And Solas wasn't a blood mage, so that actually meant something.

While she had talked to Solas about the Fade and spirits before, sporadically, it had occurred to her that perhaps he could help her with…it.

She would have to get the courage to breach that subject first, of course, and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell anyone that she had a demonic stalker, even if it typically chose not to try to possess her.

After all, who would believe that?

And if she explained why it followed her…

She tried to push that train of thought from her mind as she focused on the way forward.

Bull and his Chargers, along with Warden Blackwall, were taking up the rear of the procession, making sure that there were people there to defend against any ambushes, should Corypheus find them before they could get to where they were going. It was a little disappointing, as they all had such great stories—Bull had figured out that if he talked about the animals up north, Finley tended to drop her guard a bit more than usual.

Finley had noticed too, but she tried not to feel too slighted. After all, she figured she got about as much from their conversations as Bull did.

Everyone else was working together, keeping one another awake and attentive, even as the cold nipped at them through the wards and bade them rest within its icy embrace.

There'd even been singing, once.

It was amazing how such a simple song had been able to calm so many frayed nerves.

Finley had always used her storybook to banish her own fears—it was Cole who had managed to save it from the avalanche, and had given it to Varric after trying to read one of the stories and getting confused. Varric and Sera had found him hugging the book, telling it 'soothing nonsense' as Varric had said. Cole had left them with the book when Sera had screamed for Cullen, even though she couldn't remember why she'd needed him by the time he'd made it to the tent—Varric was one of the few who could remember Cole, it seemed. Cullen had no doubt assumed Sera was just playing games, trying to punish him for 'leaving Finley behind to fend for herself' when he was 'supposed to be protecting her'.

In truth, Sera was mad at everyone who had been supposed to stay back with Finley. From what she'd heard, Sera had even tried to punch Solas, though he'd managed to dodge out of her reach every time. Warden Blackwall had finally put a stop to the fight, assuring Sera that they would find their Herald. He and Cullen had already been gathering volunteers to go back and look for Finley.

Finley felt a bit bad about not being able to remember their daring rescue.

She had too many holes in her memory, as it was.

However, missing memories aside, she was doing fairly well, now that she was safely back with the Inquisition.

Cole had checked on her a few times since, as though unsure if she'd actually want to be back with them or not, but kept his distance overall, save for one time when he'd helped her sneak far enough out of camp so that she could recast her wards and defensive spells, like the one she that let her know when templars were looking her way. She'd gotten caught on her first attempt to put some distance between herself and the templars before her casting, and honestly she probably shouldn't have been wandering around just yet, but…

She was definitely leaning toward Cole being something good. He'd helped her without hurting anyone, and prior to him, she hadn't been sure demons—or spirits—could even do that.

Help without hurting.

That he had retrieved her book, or simply thought to bring it with them as they fled, had meant more than the rescue itself. Whenever she saw him, she couldn't help a little smile, and he would beam back before disappearing.

She wondered if he'd given Mother Giselle the idea for her song.

Probably not. She likely hadn't needed the guidance.

The power of that song had been…curious to see, even if it had meant nothing to Finley herself. It had brought sorely needed hope.

People were humming it more and more as the walk drew on.

"So then, can I expect the same level of misery here, up front, as the rest of this little caravan? Or does the lovely Herald actually know where we're going?"

The three of them turned to see Dorian pressing toward them, wading through the almost knee deep snow with surprising speed. Behind him, Finley could see a slow trail of people, ending in little black dots in the distance.

There were so many depending on finding that keep.

Dorian had caught up to them and stood before them where they rested at the top of the embankment. His lips twitched into a frown as he viewed the expanse of white stretching on and on ahead. He looked back at Sera, Varric, and Finley, taking in their tired expressions with a critical eye. "My dear, you do know where we're going, I hope?"

Finley pointed ahead. "It's that way."

"And that is not nearly as assuring as I think you meant it to be." He laughed and then shook his head. "I feel as though that commander of yours has gotten his hooks in you, so let me point out that not all leaders need to be so somber."

Picking at her sleeve, Finley eyed him, trying not to let her suspicions overtake her expression. From the amusement in his eyes, she was failing. "I wouldn't really say I'm a leader…"

The look that Dorian gave her…

She wasn't sure what it meant. Disbelief, perhaps?

Slinging an arm over her shoulders, he began down the slope with her. "Dear Herald, you single-handedly fought an archdemon—"

"And lost."

"—survived despite the impossible odds, and are now quite literally leading the Inquisition through the mountains—"

"Solas told me where to go."

"—and you think you're not the one in charge here?" He paused, appraising her with his brow arched and then shook his head. "Didn't you disband the entire templar order?"

"She didn't think they'd do it," Sera offered. She'd taken her place on Finley's other side, keeping up with the mage duo easily.

"That's not something we want to spread around, Buttercup," Varric said, taking up the rear of the party as he struggled a little more through the snow than the others, thanks in part to his shorter stature.

However, the damage had been done. Dorian held up a hand, index finger extended toward the sky before he dropped it to point toward Finley. "You told an ancient order to disband without thinking they'd actually do it?"

Finley tried to stand up a bit straighter. "I was angry with their incompetence."

"I wonder what you'd do in the magisterium…" Dorian trailed off, finally letting her go when one of his boots skidded on some hidden ice and he nearly brought both of them down. When he seemed content that his footing was safe, he sighed, seemingly bothered by the silence that fell once he stopped talking. "I assume that my earlier question about misery up here has been answered. Good to see you're not hoarding the cheer for yourselves, I suppose."

"Well, you could always cheer us up," Varric offered, motioning to him.

"Am I to be the entertainment then?" Dorian drummed his fingers against his hips, considering it. "I do love a good show…though I tend to prefer to watch, if I'm to be perfectly honest." Even as he spoke, the four of them continued the slow trudge downhill into the valley. Despite debating silently about waiting a little longer, Cassandra and the others would be able to see them once they reached the top of the crest, so there was no real reason to linger. "What about you, Herald? Have you anything that could pass the time? A fun spell perhaps? Pretty lights to distract us from this miserable trek?"

"You were there when I explained I'm not a herald of anything," Finley murmured. Dorian was a decent sort, but he didn't seem to understand Finley's power, or lack thereof. It made her curious as to how many others might be confused about such matters as well.

The envoy from the mages had certainly acted like she was someone most important, though…that was likely because of Dorian. She'd have to try to reason with him later. The mark was what made her important. The rest of it was just…

"Oh, the truth hardly matters when so many believe." Dorian waved a hand dismissively, eyes downward as his feet left little trenches through the snow. "But if you do so dislike the title, perhaps you could tell me one you prefer? Despite my valiant and successful efforts to restore you to health, and our numerous run-ins in camp, we've yet to be properly introduced, you and I." He paused before adding, "Well, I introduced myself. You were swarmed by adoring underlings before you could reply."

"Her name's frigging Finley," Sera muttered. "You've heard it."

"I've also heard Stardust and Ladybits and…well, I was under the impression that, quaint as the south is, you still believed in proper introductions."

"I'm afraid you've already heard all there is to mine." Finley paused to face him and dipped into a short curtsey. "But I'm Finley, supposed Herald of Andraste."

"No last name? No house or clan or…whatever it is out in those Wilds?" Dorian asked, head cocked as he made a vague gesture toward the south.

"None."

"Well, that won't do at all." He made a few superfluous hand motions as he strode forward through the snow. He nearly tripped once when his boot got caught on a well-buried rock. As he righted himself with as much dignity as he could muster, he motioned to her. "You should make something up. Something that says you're important, but without screaming that you think you are. It will be a fine line to balance, but with assistance I think you can manage."

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Why ever not?"

"The more names I make up, the more I have to keep track of."

At that, he laughed. "Maker's balls, but you'd best be careful how you phrase comments like that. People will think you made up your first name, too."

Finley nearly tripped face first into the snow. Standing up a bit straighter, she tried to shrug as casually as she could. "That would be ridiculous."

It wasn't until she realized that she couldn't hear the others trudging along through the snow with her that she turned back. All three of them were staring at her. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to decide who to watch, feeling that familiar curl of panic coiling in her gut, ready to grip her lungs at a moment's notice. She tried not to look scared. "What?"

"Stardust," Varric began, struggling forward a few paces toward her. "Your…your name isn't really Finley, is it?" As she stood where she was, unmoving, gaze finally honed upon the dwarf, his lips spread into a wide grin. Before she could register what was happening, he let out a cackle. "The seeker's gonna be so pissed when she finds out you kept your real name from her."

"Don't see how she's got a right to," Sera began, shrugging when Finley felt that swell of fear in her building further. "The seeker, not you. I mean, you've been all sorts of right for this stupid adventure, so it doesn't really matter what label they slap on you, right?"

"It means there's something hidden, Buttercup," Varric argued, his smile slipping. "Something for enemies to find."

Tugging on her sleeve, Finley tried to think of something she could say to sidetrack them. When nothing came to mind, she simply shrugged. "Well they can look all they want. They won't find anything. And anyway, plenty of people change their names."

Dorian crossed his arms, appraising her with new interest. "Not on a whim." He shifted his weight, glee in his eyes. "'What did the dear Herald have to hide by changing her name, I wonder?' That's what they'll be saying. It will damage your credibility, my dear."

Finley stilled, that miserable tightness starting to squeeze her lungs. She'd messed up.

Oh, how she'd messed up.

How was it every time she thought she was getting used to being around people nonsense that she made some huge blunder that made everything more complicated.

It was Sera who came to her rescue. Hopping easily over the snow, she came to stand next to Finley and looped arms with her. "What's it matter what her name was? She's Finley now. We got arse nobles sitting on their tits, acting like shoes and crumpets are the most important shite right now when…" she trailed off, looking frustrated. "I just mean Finley's done more for this shite world than most. If we're all who know her secret, don't see why it can't stay that way."

"It might make things complicated, if it comes to light that you hid things about yourself, though," Varric stressed, finally making it the last few paces to stand in front of Finley.

She huffed, trying to focus on Sera's support and not the terror that the other's dour expressions were feeding. "Of course I've hidden things about myself. I'm an apostate. We hide in general."

"Just don't tell anyone else," Sera suggested. "I mean, tits. Not like a damn word makes you more or less of what you are, right?"

Varric seemed like he wanted to point something out, and Finley tried not to shiver as she abruptly realized why she shouldn't have gotten caught up in pleasantries. More and more, she was slipping up.

When they'd first asked for her name when she'd been brought to Haven, she'd just said the first 'normal' name that had popped into her head. She hadn't expected to be out of her Wilds long enough for it to matter. She'd originally intended to flee the first chance she got.

And then she'd been taken to the Breach and learned she was the only one who could close the rifts. From there, everything had just slipped further and further from her control. Now, she was trapped—though it didn't always feel that way, especially when she was laughing and joking with Sera and the others…

Or when she was with her commander. Perhaps it was silly, but the friendlier he became, the less she knew how to act around him. It was a different sort of trap, one that didn't end with stinging cuts, but a different sort of ache, one she wasn't entirely familiar with.

However, frightening as her situation continued to be, thinking back on her adventures with Sera and time with Commander Rutherford was enough to shake her mood.

With a sigh, Varric started forward again. "I won't tell anyone."

"Me neither," Sera nodded quickly, her hair fluttering around her wildly. She turned, dragging Finley around with her and matched Varric's pace. Finley followed, with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Well, I can certainly keep a secret," Dorian replied, setting a quick pace to keep up, just behind Varric. "Herald Finley, it is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance."

As Varric drew even with her, he lightly clasped her hand in his and beckoned her to lean down. When she did, he whispered, "You should tell Leliana, though. If anyone needs to know, it's our spymaster."

Despite the distinct feeling that telling more people would be counterproductive to her goal of keeping anyone else from being able to question her, as Dorian had implied they would, she nodded.

Understanding that they'd put a damper on her spirits, Dorian and Varric both threw themselves into lightening the mood, with Varric recounting the great Garrett Hawke's adventures and Dorian enthralling them with his horrendous misadventures with a friend named Felix. Sera offered the occasional Red Jenny tale, as well.

When the sun began to slip behind the western mountain peaks, they found that they'd traveled almost the full length of the valley without even noticing.