I have family coming to visit starting tomorrow, so maybe I'll post and maybe I won't over the next 10 days or so. Sometimes they just want to play with my daughter and I'm superfluous as long as she's awake. Other times we end up doing a whole bunch together and I'm playing hostess the whole time.

Decisions and Consequences

My face was wet with tears by the time we exited the rift, emerging onto the small dais where it was situated, and I was holding back sobs only with an effort. "Maybe - if we leave the rift open…?" I suggested.

"She's not going to come through, even if she has the chance," Varric told me softly. "She'll be worried about somehow letting the Nightmare out if she does. As long as the rift stays open, her focus will be on keeping the demon away from it, not on her own survival."

Shuddering, I closed it, destroying several weaker demons as I did so. There were a few ragged cheers from various points around the courtyard.

"Report!" I demanded.

"The mages have stopped fighting us!" someone called.

"The demons have disappeared!" another voice shouted from somewhere near the first.

I saw an aura approaching at a quick pace, then - not tainted, so probably one of ours. "The archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared, Inquisitor." I could see now the green hood and the glimmer of the silver badge that marked Leliana's scouts. "The Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself."

I certainly did.

"As for the Wardens," the scout continued, "those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons."

One of the Wardens in the courtyard - high-ranking, based on how shiny his armor was - stepped forward. "We stand ready to help make up for Clarel's…tragic mistake."

I choked on a laugh that was at least half a sob. " Clarel's tragic mistake?" I repeated. "And what of your tragic mistake ?" I looked around the courtyard at the auras I could see. More than half belonged to Wardens - there might have been as many as a hundred watching me speak, and I thought it likely that more were filtering in from the outlying areas. "You knew your orders were bad - if not at first, then when the mages started changing," my voice became a snarl of contempt, "and the whole lot of you followed them anyway . And do you know what your pig-headed adherence to the chain of command has cost us - all of us?" I gestured sharply toward where the rift had been. "Wardens held Divine Justinia captive as Corypheus used her life-force to attempt to ascend into the Fade. The Champion of Kirkwall, one of the greatest heroes of this age, stayed behind in the Fade to battle the demon you helped summon, to give the rest of us the chance to escape. Their deaths are on all your heads."

I paused and took a breath, aware that my hands were trembling and tears were flowing freely down my face. The courtyard was utterly silent. "I could demand that you leave Orlais - perhaps all of southern Thedas. I could instruct my forces to hunt your order down and execute all of you, and once word of this atrocity spreads, I don't know that anyone would register a protest. But both of those options let you off too easily." I felt sudden alarm and disapproval from Solas, and ignored it. "The Grey Wardens made this mess and killed both the Champion of Kirkwall and the Divine - now your order is responsible for doing the good both might have done had they lived. And you will answer to Stroud - apparently the only Warden in all the south who has enough courage to call out his superiors when they insist on arranging their own destruction." I lifted my chin, ignoring the tears that still dripped from it. "Does anyone wish to protest my judgment?"

"If anyone tries, they may do so at the end of my blade, Your Worship," Stroud said, moving in what might have been a bow. "I am terribly sorry about Hawke," he added in a lower voice.

"It's not your fault," I reassured him. It wasn't mine, either - I knew that - but somehow it still felt like it. "There's no shortage of foes for you to fight," I said more loudly, still speaking to Stroud but letting my voice carry. "I expect, given Corypheus's nature, that darkspawn will make an appearance eventually, and in the meantime there are red templars and demons."

"I will need to go to Weisshaupt to make a report to the Wardens there," Stroud said, "but I know I can leave those who remain here under your command, Inquisitor, and that you will aid them in rebuilding the honor of our order."

Of course I had to take responsibility for this , too. I closed my eyes briefly, the weight of it threatening to knock me flat, took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened my eyes to nod at Stroud. "I'll do my best to keep them both safe and busy until your return," I promised. I also promised myself that most of the work of doing both those things could be delegated to Cullen. He already oversaw the army. The Wardens were just another group of specialists for him to find jobs for.

"Come," Stroud said, holding out his hand to me. "Adamant has few luxuries, but I believe we can find you a place to sit while you eat some rations, and a bed afterward."

Creators, I hoped so. I took his hand and let him help me down off of the dais.

"The chantry paintings are practically commissioning themselves," Varric muttered as I passed, but I didn't stop to ask what he was talking about.

Stroud found me a quiet corner with a bench where I sat and forced myself to eat a little, and then he led me to the barracks where he claimed a curtained alcove for me - apologizing that it wasn't a private room, as if I had any energy to care about that - and told me to rest.

I did try. The bed was firm enough to be comfortable and I lay there with my eyes closed for the better part of an hour, but scenes from the battle and then the Fade kept appearing before my gaze, and I found myself searching them desperately for a mistake I might have made. I needed something to explain how Hawke had been stranded in the Fade, some way to assign blame so that I could keep something similar from ever, ever happening again.

I couldn't find anything glaring, and suspected that the outcome had never been mine to control - but my feelings couldn't accept such a conclusion and continued to seek an explanation they could grasp.

It likely didn't help that Solas was still agitated over my attempt to go after Hawke in the Fade, and angry that I had claimed the service of the Grey Wardens for the Inquisition. He was trying to keep his feelings out of our bond, aware that I was nearly overwhelmed by my own feelings, but he could only do so much. He certainly wasn't prepared to offer me any kind of comfort.

Eventually I gave up and rose from the bed. I didn't think anyone was fooled - I was sure I looked even worse that I had when I left to lie down.

I went to find Varric.

It took a while - he was in the chantry, of all places, though once I entered I could see why. Adamant showed the neglect of centuries in rough, broken floors, walls whose plaster had long since fallen off, and ceilings with gaping holes in them large enough for even my weak sight to detect. But the chantry was an interior room, sheltered from the harsh winds of the desert, and it looked as though it had been given particular care, even as the rest of the fortress became increasingly shabby before being abandoned entirely.

The walls were covered in beautiful murals depicting Andraste's life and the lives of her followers. Though I wanted to speak to Varric, I found myself arrested by the one I passed near when entering, and stopped to examine it more closely - Andraste's wedding to her human husband, I thought. What was his name? Matherat? Matheraf? Maferath - that was it.

I found myself following the path of the murals, walking through the events of Andraste's life, until I came to one I knew entirely independently of human religious myth. "Shartan," I breathed.

"Reproduction of the mural by Henri de Lydes," Varric said behind me. "Guess the Wardens didn't get the raven telling them his ears had to be docked."

"They probably didn't care, even if they did," I said, mildly amused. "What was Divine Renata going to do - call an Exalted March against them?"

He chuckled appreciatively.

The figure of Shartan was resplendent in close-fitting gold armor, with a luxurious green sash tied around his waist. Andraste's hands clutched his shoulders possessively - almost suggestively, though I could hardly blame her. He was quite beautiful.

I leaned in to peer more closely at the coronet resting on his brow, and the white, pointed shape that fanned out behind. "Is this hair, do you suppose, or is his helm very strangely shaped?"

"Hair, I'm guessing," Varric answered.

"The legends say he died trying to save her," I said quietly. "Andraste, I mean. And then she died anyway." Varric sighed heavily, and I turned away from the mural to go to him. It looked as though he had found a table somewhere and pulled it into the aisle next to one of the pews so that he could write. I sat down next to him. "What did Hawke mean - what she said about flying?"

Varric's brow furrowed, and the words he spoke didn't sound like his: "'We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment, and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly .' That was a…prophecy, I suppose, given to Hawke. By Flemeth. Witch of the Wilds."

"Asha'bellanar," I breathed, giving the Elvish name for her. Woman of many years . "Is that what Hawke was saying under her breath - before?"

"I think so," Varric said. "It's not your fault, Vanish. I mean, it wouldn't be anyway - but this whole thing was set in motion long before you came on the scene, I think."

"Do you think Hawke is still alive?" I asked quietly.

He shuddered. "Yes? No? I don't know if I dare. I…could be waiting for her a long time. And even if she was right, and this was the moment of prophecy, whatever Flemeth meant…it didn't promise that she would come home safely. Flying could mean…a lot of things."

"I know she wasn't my friend like she was your friend, but - " I blinked away tears.

"Not the same way, maybe," Varric said, "and not for as long - but the two of you understood each other in a way that I don't think anyone else could. These last few years weren't easy on her, but I think you gave her hope that it wasn't all for nothing - even if she was still trying to take responsibility for Corypheus."

"Some things are just Hawke-adjacent?" I asked, remembering his words to her.

"Some things are only Inquisitor-adjacent, too, Vanish," he told me with a significant look.

"I do know that," I told him. "It's just…hard to tell the difference sometimes."

"Yeah," he allowed. "It probably is. Now go on - I have…a lot of letters to finish writing."

I fled, amorphous guilt still dogging my heels.

It seemed that Solas had fallen asleep sometime during my conversation with Varric, and so I felt safe venturing into the infirmary, where I knew he had probably been spending his time and magic - because where else would he have been? I didn't know any of Fiona's healers well, but I found Stitches easily enough. He was there, living up to his name by sewing shut a long gash on a Warden's arm. "Inquisitor," he greeted me without looking up.

"Can I help?" I asked him.

He did look up, then, and though his face was a bit of a blur, I thought he smiled at me. "I'm not in charge of the healers when we aren't on the battlefield, but if you give me a moment, I'll introduce you to Lisbet."

"Ma serannas," I replied, settling on the floor to wait, noticing as I did the masses of bruises that covered the Warden. They weren't life threatening, but I didn't imagine she was very comfortable. I sent a surreptitious pulse of healing energy through her, hopefully easing a little of the ache.

Stitches apparently caught it and laughed softly. He might have shaken his head. "You aren't much for waiting, are you, Your Worship?"

I felt myself blush. "I just - when I see I can do some good - "

"I understand," he assured me. "Though with a resource as limited as magic, you should save yours for those who need it most."

The rebuke was gentle, but well placed. I bowed my head, chastened, and waited for him to finish.

"I'm grateful, anyway," the Warden said quietly, but with considerable irony.

Afterward, Stitches led me to a group of people at one end of the room. Several of them were managing supplies - bandages and potions, I assumed - while one asked questions, scribbled notes, offered advice, and handed out assignments. She was, of course, the Lisbet that Stitches had mentioned. "I have a volunteer for you," he told her.

She barely glanced at me. "Are you one of the Warden mages?" she asked. "I'm pleased you want to help, but I hope you understand that you'll have to be supervised."

"I'm not a Warden," I said. "I'm with the Inquisition. Inana - my name is Inana."

"Inana Lavellan. Inquisitor," Stitches clarified, and I detected an eye-roll in his voice, even if I couldn't actually see it.

Lisbet sat up straighter. "Oh! Inquisitor! I mean - Your Worship, of course. How can we assist you?"

"How can I assist you?" I asked. "I'm not a skilled healer, but I know the basics and I'm reasonably powerful. Or so I've been told," I added much more quietly.

"There is no shortage of wounded," Lisbet said. "You can accompany Rakel on her rounds - she is an excellent instructor and may help you refine your skill somewhat."

" Ma serannas ," I said, and then waited quietly while Stitches left to find Rakel before returning to his own work. There were a few whispers which included the word "Inquisitor," and I assumed there were probably stares, as well - but I couldn't see them, and so they weren't difficult to ignore.

Rakel, at least, was both kind and deft, and more than willing to slow down to show me what it was she did, breaking seemingly-complex spells into series of simpler ones in steps that appeared obvious once I understood them. I spent a satisfying hour helping her before exhaustion began to get the better of me, and she sent me away to rest.

"I think I would like to learn healing," I told Rakel and Lisbet before I left. "Could you spare someone from the among the former Circle mages to teach me?"

I was standing near enough to see the look they exchanged. "Perhaps," Lisbet said slowly, "but I'm not certain it would be appropriate for someone in your position. I will send a message to Fiona for you, if you would like, and she can give the matter her consideration."

I hesitated, wondering if it was worth bothering Fiona - and probably my advisors. But - yes, I decided, it was. It was impossible to have too many healers, and I wanted to learn this. "Sathan - please. I would appreciate it."

Rakel reached out and patted my cheek. "Now go rest, girl, before we end up having to tend you in the infirmary."

I bowed my head and went.