A/N: Meant to have this up yesterday, but didn't get to editing it in time. Thank you for reading!

...-...

Cassandra woke up to the brisk morning much the same as she always did, early enough that she could read a few chapters by candle before the day began.

However, this morning—much like the last few—she found that she couldn't focus. It was miserable and mindboggling.

Her book was her favorite installment of Swords and Shields, the one with her favorite scene, where the brave guard captain saves her lover from bandits and then they spend the rest of the eve committing one another to memory.

Varric might be a grating creature in the real world, but he did have a way with words.

She liked all of his stories, but Swords and Shields had a special place in her heart. The heroine was the one who did all the saving. She was tough and fierce, and still she was treated gently by her love. In fact, this was the book where he came to her and told her how he'd been drawn to her by the softness he could see within her, of the way she smiled quietly at a wildflower in a moment's rest, or how he'd seen her watch the stars…

It was incredibly contrived, and yet…it wasn't.

Normally, Cassandra allowed herself to get swept up in the story, only pulled reluctantly from those well-worn pages by the sounds of the castle or camp coming awake.

Today, however, it kept reminding her of her horrendously awkward confrontation with Ser Yorric. She had told him if he wanted to court her, he must do so properly, expecting him to be disappointed that she wasn't all hard edges and no heart.

Instead, he had looked at her as though he'd already known that, and that look had allowed for a small bubble of girlish whimsy.

She couldn't imagine where he would have had the chance to see her softness.

She'd wanted to ask him ever since he'd seemed so open to the idea of courting her, but she'd taken on Cullen's duties while he was away, and it had felt inappropriate to set down such tasks for some frivolous daydream, even if it was for but a moment.

And then Finley had sent him away. She said she hadn't, but why else would both he and his loyal-to-a-fault brother have left for Orlais, if not to help the Inquisition with something? It irked her that Finley wouldn't tell her why and kept avoiding the topic when it was brought up.

And worse, it had been so long since her declaration, and he had not attempted any type of courtship since. After that first day, she'd half expected some poorly written love letter to be shoved under her door, and each day that there wasn't one only frustrated her more.

It surprised her.

It was foolish to be so distraught, moreso when she'd noticed that he seemed to be avoiding her.

Had this not been what she'd wanted? Him to desist with his foolishness so that they might better focus on saving the world?

With a scowl, she shut her book and tossed it aside with a snap of her wrist, only to chase after it a second later to make sure none of the pages had been bent in her moment's irritation.

And to make sure that it hadn't hit the ground too close to Finley, waking her.

Finley lay still though, her chest rising and falling softly as she slept. She'd been sleeping in later than she originally had. Cassandra wasn't sure if she was just more comfortable being around people now or if it was something else.

It made her worry more that, no matter how much sleep Finley got, she still looked just as tired when she woke up, if not more so.

Seeing that she hadn't woken her tentmate with her frustration, Cassandra turned her attention to her book, making sure she hadn't damaged those precious pages. In the early days, both of them would be up before the sun, and seeing one another awake had encouraged them to forgo whatever regular morning comforts they had to start the day. After a while, Cassandra had started reading during those early morning hours. Finley had always taken the time to go through her belongings, sometimes read a few pages of her own book, and then head off to the world. She never expected Cassandra to be on her heels though, allowing the seeker as long as she wanted with her stories.

They'd never officially spoken to one another about it, but she found it comforting that they'd been able to respect each other and do their own thing. Now, though, Finley just slept.

When she was sure none had been bent or—Maker forbid—torn, she decided to get an early start to her day, even if they wouldn't be leaving until whenever Finley woke.

Usually closer to eight or nine, when the sun was well above the horizon.

For their current run through of Ferelden, they usually camped with Inquisition forces, considering they had so much of a presence in Ferelden, and so it eliminated the need for them to take watches when there were already scouts on guard—she had hoped this would help Finley get some proper rest, not that it seemed to matter.

Because they needn't stand guard through the night, Cassandra was surprised to find that Warden Blackwall was already awake, whittling at some wood as he waited for the rest of the camp to stir. Leliana had said to keep an eye on the man, but Cassandra couldn't help but wonder why. Because he might be manipulated by Corypheus? Whatever the reason, she couldn't say there was much to be wary of. Still, Leliana was never wrong about such cautions, and so she kept herself alert.

Cassandra gave him a nod before going over to the nearest scout on duty and asking for any updates. There was nothing.

It was somewhat of a relief, really.

Even with everything going on, at least Ferelden was coming together. They'd closed all but two of the remaining rifts in the last few weeks, helped reclaim a small castle from bandits, and sent for permission from the King and Queen to leave forces there to be a center of their network in Ferelden, so that they could continue to look for red templar and venatori movement.

They'd yet to hear back from the crown, but Cassandra was hopeful.

It was hard to tell if Finley was.

She'd gotten rather quiet, almost like she'd been when she'd first woken up after the Conclave. It felt like a huge step back in some ways, but she was more comfortable with other people around.

And Dorian could make her smile on occasion, especially when he rambled about how abhorrent mud was or something similarly trite.

Cullen had warned Cassandra to keep an eye on Finley, that she was under far too much pressure.

If she was, she didn't show it. She just pushed on toward the rifts, occasionally stopping to help locals with problems that were arising in wake of the demons or venatori or anything really. She was quite good at finding a way for any problem to be Inquisition business. It was a fine line to be walked, but Warden Blackwall and Dorian were almost always supporting her when it came to helping people, and that made it impossible to persuade her to focus on the task at hand.

As it was, they were going to be heading toward the last corner of Ferelden this morning. In a few days, they would be at Caer Oswin, where her sources said the seekers had been amassing for some time. It would be good to see those familiar faces—assuming they had not lost their minds. After all, there was only so much a single seeker could do. More would mean more control in the fight against Corypheus, whenever that came to pass.

Still, something ate at her.

The reports showed many of her fellow seekers heading toward this old, out of the way fort, but there were no reports of any of them leaving. There were so many names of those heading to Caer Oswin, how could no one have seen anyone leave?

Unless…

She shook her head to try to banish the thoughts, a disgusted noise matching her distaste. She would be cautious, and she would not get her hopes up too high.

Cassandra couldn't afford to fall apart if the worst came to pass.

Though, surely the worst would not…

She offered a quick prayer to the Maker before settling down to have breakfast.

…-…

This time, as Cassandra held the book in her hands, she couldn't bring herself to open it or even flip through the pages.

It was not one of hers, but rather one of the Order's. The book that Lord Seeker Lucius had claimed had driven him mad.

Mad enough to slaughter his own people. Mad enough to not see that seekers had an immunity to red lyrium, and thus Corypheus.

So many of her brothers and sisters in arms had been led to their deaths, one by one.

All because of what was in this book?

It seemed absurd. Surely whatever was within the pages could not be so dire. Surely.

The Lord Seeker must have been mad to begin with.

She tapped her fingers against the book's cover, wondering if she should try to pull her mind from it with Swords and Shields.

She doubted she'd get far. The idea of love and romance felt…hollow compared to what was to come. To what needed to be done. She didn't have time for idle, selfish distractions.

At least Daniel was alive.

Finley had insisted on trying to heal him, and it had taken her and Dorian more than an hour—with waves of cultists and corrupted templars coming for them as the mages focused, with each minute feeling like one where the Lord Seeker might escape them—but in the end, they had done…something. Cassandra wasn't familiar enough with magic to know, but it had taken so much out of both of them.

And yet Daniel had said he couldn't feel the thing inside of him anymore. He'd passed out—she'd thought he'd died, only to be surprised when she felt his pulse in his neck, faint but beating—and they'd moved on to find the Lord Seeker waiting for them, readily spewing his madness.

When they'd slain him, Cassandra had hurried back to find Daniel still among the living, miraculously enough. Dorian had stabilized him, as Finley was practically hanging off Warden Blackwall's shoulder at that point from exhaustion.

They must have been quite the sight, stumbling their way back to camp, all of them exhausted in some way or another.

She wondered if it had been disheartening to the scouts to see them return with only one extra person instead of dozens.

Cassandra wished there would have been more seekers with them when they returned, but to have even Daniel with them was a small victory. If there were other Seekers left, perhaps she could find them, too.

Though…what of the Order? If it's secrets were as disturbing as the Lord Seeker had claimed, then…would it be beneficial to restore it?

Or was it like the Templar Order, corrupt from within, twisted into something so wicked that perhaps it needed to be disbanded.

Cassandra felt the Templar Order could be remade into something better, something less corrupt. But the Seekers, too?

She ran a hand down her face and then did her best to shake the thoughts from her head. It wouldn't help anyone to mull over it now. Not until she'd had a chance to read exactly what it was that the Lord Seeker had found so damning.

And yet…she could not bring herself to open the book to even the first page.

…-…

The last rift had been miserable to reach, though Cassandra had had the distinct impression that if Finley could have left the others, she would have made considerably better time. Were it not for the fact that she couldn't take multiple demons on in a fight, she might have left them.

They'd had to climb rather sharp cliffs and wander through so much wilderness that Cassandra had wondered how they'd ever come to know of this rift in the first place.

Had it not been marked on the wartable, she'd have assumed that this tip came from one of Finley's Wilds' contacts.

In the end, they had closed it, though, and there had been a small revelry initiated by Dorian, as he proclaimed Ferelden to be rift free.

Finley had offered a fleeting smile at that.

There had been a more proper celebration at their camp that evening. They were a day or two from the nearest Inquisition camp, and so they'd settled on taking a slower pace—Cassandra's suggestion—to give themselves time to recover from all the fighting.

As they sat there, with Finley's mind clearly elsewhere as Dorian jovially proclaimed that Corypheus could do a few untoward things to Maferath's hairy balls, Warden Blackwall shot to his feet, sword drawn, shield ready.

Cassandra's blade was in her hand as well as she followed his gaze and saw a figure stepping out of the shadows toward them, draped in all too familiar garb.

The Venatori had found them.

At least, that's what she thought at first.

However, the man seemed to be alone, and he held his hands up in surrender—as though that meant anything from a mage. Even as Finley jolted to her feet, Dorian was moving past the rest of them, stopping a few feet shy of the edge of camp.

"Alexius?"

"Is it true?" their visitor asked. "Felix is dead?"

Dorian flinched at the words, but gave the stranger a short nod. "He was courageous to the end."

The man stood there a long moment. Cassandra's eyes searched the shadows for signs that more Venatori were lying in wait, but it seemed that he had come alone. Finally, he pulled his hood off and let it fall to the ground.

"There's no point in this, if I can't save him." His hands fell to his side, and he looked first to Dorian, and then over the rest of them, gaze stopping on Finley. "Take me in, and I'll tell you all that I know."