"Damon, I need you to listen to me," Anders took a seat next to his friend and let out a sigh, "You have had an accident."

Damon shook his head with a chuckle, "Anders, I don't know what you're-"

"It is 43 Dragon," Anders kept his voice stable and calm, "And there is some sort of magic hold on your memories. We are trying to figure out how to undo the magic, but it might take some time. Do you understand?"

"Forgive me if the concept is hard to understand."

"Perhaps, someone else could catch you up much better than I."

Anders directed his attention to the opening of the tent, and Morrigan showed herself, her steps lacking her usual confidence that soaked her strides.

"Damon," She breathed, and quickly drew him into a hug.

His eyes were wide as he saw her before him, touching her skin that he had thought was just a memory to him. He reciprocated her tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her and breathing her in. He had missed her scent, that intoxicating air that she emitted that had haunted his nights and was a ghost in the back of his mind every morning.

"How-," He whispered, "I've been searching for you. You left. You left me."

"I know," She choked out.

He pulled away, his face distorting in anger, "You took our child, Morrigan, and now you show up out of nowhere."

"'Tis not out of nowhere, my warden. We have been together for years now. You found me, and we spent a time in the crossroads, raising our son, Kieran."

"We- we have a son."

She nodded, "Yes, and he misses his father, very much. 'Tis why we need to fix this, return your memories, then depart to Highever to rejoin him and your brother."

"How old is he? Our son?"

"Twelve," she replied, "Almost thirteen."

"Maker," He exhaled. He brought his attention to Anders, "You must find a way to retrieve my memory, Anders. I do not want the time we shared to be lost any longer."

"There is nothing my magic can do to reverse this," Anders declared, "But, may I suggest, Morrigan, that if anybody is going to be able undo the block of magic withholding his memories, it would be you. With all of your… ahm… knowledge crammed in there, it would be invaluable."

"Now you are speaking sense," Morrigan quipped.

"For now, I will give you two your privacy, it seems like you might need to catch up on a few things."

Anders walked out of the tent, leaving the two of them alone at last. Damon saw how her golden eyes were distraught, tired in their sockets as dark rings circled around them.

"How did I manage to find you, and when?"

She took a seat beside him on the cot, grabbing his hand with warm, light squeeze and intertwining his fingers with his.

"'Twas not easy for you, and I mistakenly made it so," She admitted, avoiding his gaze, "But you must understand I never left because of you. I needed to protect you and Kieran from Flemeth."

"You, an elven woman, and a young mage managed to track me down to a working eluvian. And you, with your annoyingly, undying determination and dumbfounded love for me decided to join me in raising Kieran, in-between worlds for a very long time."

"I told you I would."

She chuckled, "That you did."

"Morrigan, I would have followed you to the end of the world, why would you leave me behind?"

"'Tis exactly why I had to leave you behind. You had your duties as a warden, and I had my own. 'Twas a mistake, I know that now, and to this day I still regret it deeply. Every time you and Kieran shared a moment, shared a laugh, a story, I see what I tried to deprive you of. And you, you just took everything with such a stride, accepting the responsibility and even forgiving me. I just hope you still feel that way."

"It's because I love you, dammit," He said, "I loved you during the blight. Even when you left, no matter how much it killed me to admit it, I loved you to the point of madness. And now, Maker, I see you for what feels like the first time in forever and I'm angry… I'm so angry for what you did. But, I still am so in love with you and I'm pissed off about it."

"You mustn't be," She looked into his steely eyes with sincerity, "We lived a beautiful life for an entire decade, raising Kieran and being the family you always wanted." Her brows furrowed, "Until you decided to leave us to find some forsaken cure to the Calling."

He huffed, "No, no no. This is so typical of you! You can't turn this on me when I don't even remember doing it!"

An uninvited laugh escaped from her chest, and she saw him smile. "I suppose it is not entirely your fault, I did help you reach the revelation of a cure."

"That's my girl," He nudged her with his shoulder, "Did we ever… uh, did I ask you-"

"For my hand?" She finished, "Oh, yes. Numerous times. I still do not understand why you insisted for such a label, I mean we were happy, was that not enough?"

He cocked his head to the side, and she stopped herself.

"Yes, after the hundredth time and you using your parents as the means to guilt me into it, I agreed. We had a small ceremony at Highever. Kieran bore the rings," She toyed with a diamond encrusted ring on her finger. "I enjoyed it more than I thought, and you were overjoyed."

He smiled sincerely, his grin dripping into a smirk. "I got you to marry me."

She nodded, "Yes, yes, now stop your gloating."

"And Kieran… our son," He asked, "What is he like?"

She paused for a moment, then smiled, "He acts just as you do. Curious, intelligent, and much too adventurous for his own good. His looks, however, are entirely me, to which he is quite lucky."

"You know, it's not too late for me to be mad at you," He jested.

She grinned warmly, "I do not mind if you are angry, my warden, you certainly have the right to be," She leaned in, breathing in his distinct smell of iron and a breeze coming off of the sea, "As long as you indeed love me."

His eyes flickered to her dark and desiring merlot lips, and succumbed to her intentions. He pressed his lips against hers and felt her arms press him against her, begging to close any distance between him. He wrapped his fingers into her hair, deepening his kiss. When kissing her, it felt as though they became one, instinct dictating their every move.

He lingered on her lips and smiled, "Feels like the first time."

"Trust me, my warden, it always does."

He hummed, "What do we do now?"

"We go home."


"Maker is that…. The inquisitor! He has arrived!"

"Maker, He's alive!"

"Get a healer, now!"

"Fetch Sister Leliana at once!"

Brady trotted into camp, barely able to keep his eyes open. The world around him was a blur, and the sharp nagging of pain had consumed his body. He fell off of the chestnut mare and shuffled through the camp, his steps slow.

The voices around him were muddy, as though he had water caught in his ears. He could hear the ring of Leliana's name echo through the camp, but could not make out her voice alone. He ignored the helping hands of soldiers attempting to keep him upright, shaking them off and gripping one's shoulders.

"Where is Serah Hawke?" He breathed.

The inquisition soldier was at a loss for words, staring at Brady's battered face, dumbfounded.

Brady repeated, shaking the soldier's shoulders. "Hawke, where is she, soldier?"

"In… in the med bay, your worship."

Brady thanked the soldier and pushed him away. He pushed himself towards the med bay and pressed into the camp with urgency.

He was greeted by the bewildered faces of Hawke's closest friends, all their mouths agape with shock as the inquisitor shuffled into the tent and pulled on a short smile to see Hawke sitting up and well, holding wicked grace cards close to her chest.

"You're okay, thank the maker," He exhaled, holding his smile despite the painful stress it was putting onto the cuts that cluttered his face.

Hawke gulped, "I wish I could say the same. Brady, what happened to you?"

Varric stood up and attempted to support Brady's weight, "Inquisitor, you look like shit."

Carver joined him, swinging one of the inquisitor's arms over his shoulders and leading him to a makeshift chair that sat against the canvas of the camp. Brady fell into the chair with a groan, gripping his side.

"I am so sorry, Hawke. If I had known-," Brady forced out between pained breaths.

Hawke stood up and signaled for the others to leave as Leliana, Cullen, and a group of armored inquisition mages took residence in the tent.

Leliana's anger of Brady disappearing into battle alone waded when she saw him once again. He looked terrible. The sight of his wounds only allowed for a grimace from her, but he was alive, and that alone was enough.

A weight had lifted off of Cullen's shoulders upon seeing Brady. He looked no worse than he would during a bad bout with a rift, or when he had accidentally slid down a cliff on the wounded coast. What had bothered Cullen was the past time between his intervention into the battle and now. He did not know where Brady disappeared to, or what he had done to Hawke at the warden outpost. He desperately wanted the questions answered, but suppressed his curiosity.

Brady waved them off as they began to remove his armor. "Please, no magic."

Cullen furrowed his brows, "Are you mad?"

"He's right," Hawke spoke up from her cot, "No magic."

Leliana and Cullen looked at her as a wave of confusion fell upon everyone besides Brady and Hawke. Cullen ordered the mages out. They complied, filing out of the tent to attend his order.

"Cullen," Hawke said, "Do not let Anders into this tent for the time being. He will do something rash if he sees the inquisitor before I explain things to him."

"Over my dead body," Leliana spat.

Cullen placed a calming hand on Leliana's shoulder and nodded, piecing her meaning in his head. After what he had seen during the revival of Hawke, he knew who Anders blamed for her previous condition. He proceeded to guard the outside of the tent.

Brady shook his head slightly, "He has every right to want to kill me."

"There will come a time for explanations, for now," Leliana began to unhinge Brady's armor, throwing it to the side of the tent. She pulled off one gauntlet at a time. His left hand was glowing through his gauntlet with an unsettling tint of green. She gulped hard, and pulled it off swiftly.

His mark had infected his arm up to his elbow. He looked down at it and shuddered. The pain emulating from the mark was unbearable enough to distract the discomfort of his bloodied face and broken ribs.

"You cannot keep coming home to me like this," She whispered, grabbing the gauze off of the table beside him and wrapping up his right hand, the blood from his knuckles already peeking through the bandages.

"Larson is dead, Leliana," He said, craning his head and taking short breaths, "He killed Warden Dawson."

"Warden Dawson is dead?" She frowned, "I hope that bastard burns for what he's done."

Hawke let out a relieved sigh, "At least there was one good outcome from this mess."

Leliana ordered him to stand, giving him aid by supporting his weight and helping him regain his balance. He stood still as she examined his bruised torso. His ribs were colored purple and crimson red.

"Broken ribs," She confirmed. "What did he do to you?"

She began to wrap his torso tightly, wrapping him up in bandages and compressing his ribs with pressure. She jumped at every little wince he made, but continued.

"He was a pride demon." She looked to him in disbelief, but he simply nodded, "A very powerful one."

"Feed off the pride of righteous wardens who would die for a fabricated cause? Smart," Hawke commented.

"Too smart," Leliana admitted, helping Brady back down into his chair, "He has beaten us. We have no cure, no results, and Damon cannot even legitimize why we attacked the wardens in the first place."

Brady replied with concern in his voice, "Damon? Is he okay?"

"He's alive," She frowned, "But something has erased his memories. He does not remember anything further than serving at Amaranthine."

"Larson did it, I'm sure of it," Brady snarled, "Shit."

Hawke's chest tightened at the idea of being beaten once again. How could the maker grant her with such bad luck? She was alive, but this time, that wasn't enough. Once again she had put her closest friends in danger for another lost cause.

"Dammit," Hawke finally said, "I need some air."

Leliana and Brady watched her depart, only to connect eyes soon after.

"I almost killed her, Leliana," He confessed, "The mark- my hand, it exploded. Everyone around me was killed. I was afraid I had killed her as well, just because of this cursed mark."

She looked at him with sympathy, resting a hand in his lap. "Your mark…"

"I didn't want to tell you," His eyes avoided hers, "But it is killing me, I can feel it."

"Brady-"

"I'm losing my control over it. I don't want to find myself one day killing my own soldiers in the courtyard by accident or-," He gulped, "Or what if I'm with you? Or sparring with Cullen? I cannot risk the possibility of being such a danger to the people around me. I won't allow it."

She placed her hand on his, "While you were away, we had received word from Josephine. The Divine insisted on us attending the Exalted Council as soon as possible," She looked at him with eyes that were an ocean of hopefulness, "Brady, this is it. The council will decide the inquisition's fate once and for all. We could finally put our arms down and live our lives. If what you say is true, that you may not have much time left, than let us live for whatever time you have. No more of the world's burdens falling on our shoulders. We can just… be free."

Brady saw the way her eyes lit up at every word reflecting on their freedom. Larson's words echoed in his head. The dissolving of the inquisition was his goal, and it seemed that Brady would have no choice but to do exactly what he wanted. The inquisition he built had an ever growing target from other nations growing on its back, prepared to pick it apart or use it for their own personal gain. Once again, Larson was able to best him, much to his dismay. He tried to find comfort in Divine Justinia's own words of allowing the inquisition to finish their goal, then once again disappear into the history books like the Inquisition of old. It was a minor salve to the fact Brady would succumb to Larson's intentions, but it would have to do, for his own sake.

He looked at Leliana earnestly, "I can never ask you to leave the chantry. The inquisition might end, but you love doing the work of the Maker. They'll give you some glamourous position to keep you."

"And you think they're going to let you walk around freely with that thing attached to your arm?" She laughed, "Cassandra did offer, but I plan to refuse."

"You'd do that?"

She hummed, "There is so much I want to do, things that do not involve risking everything every single day."

He understood her. The personal sacrifices they have made were taking their toll, chipping away at their resolve. Leliana more than himself, as she has been giving herself to one cause or another her entire life. Regardless of how he felt, he knew she needed to find respite somewhere. As he sat there with his body broken and bruised from battle, he thought of no other perfection than joining her somewhere warm on a shore and avoiding every world crushing issue. It was time for someone else to take the wrings and be a hero, for he knew his time was coming up.

She smiled at him, the warmth of her grin distracting him from the discomfort of his injuries, "We will go to the council, and after we will run. Disappear before they rope us in once again."

He chuckled, only to find himself speaking through a cough, "Runaway together? Just like one of your tales?"

She cocked a brow, "Do you object?"

"Leliana," He said softly, "I just want to be where you are."

"That is more like it."


Hawke wandered the camp and began to hate the sight of it. She saw the soldiers celebrating what they thought was a victory, engaging in song and dancing, drinking the evening way with salvaged ale.

She moved slowly, as her limbs still felt as though they weighed a ton with every step. She remembered the great green glowing light illuminating fiercely as Brady screamed in agony, and then, nothing. The last thing she had recalled was waking up in the med bay. He didn't manage to kill her with that sorry excuse for a weapon he called a hand, and she was more than happy to accept the fact that being angry with Brady wouldn't change a damn thing. It wasn't his fault, it was the marks. Still, she found amusement in the idea of her lobbing it off in his sleep.

She encountered Isabela and Varric packing up their tents. She approached them with curiosity.

"Moving out?"

"We all are, Hawke. If you haven't noticed, we have completed our mission," Varric said, stacking crates full of books and booze on top of each other.

"Merrill and Morrigan are powering the Eluvian as we speak," Isabela announced, "I preferred to go by ship, but no one listens to me."

"Because no one wants to walk for weeks to find the nearest port, Rivaini," Varric replied.

Isabela rolled her eyes, "I much prefer the walk to whatever elven magic deals with those mirrors."

"I cannot go to Kirkwall," Hawke shook her head, "Not without Anders."

"You will go to Kirkwall, love," Anders said, approaching her from behind and wrapping her into his arms, "And you will sit in your Hightown estate and enjoy the fact that you are finally home."

"Not without you," She repeated, "You cannot expect me to leave you."

He chuckled into her ear and pressed a kiss on her cheek, "I've already packed your things. This time, Hawke, let me do something by you."

She pouted, unwilling to let him have his way, "Anders…"

"I will return to you, this I promise you," He said sincerely, "But I refuse to stay as I am," He lowered his voice, "I got a little tip from a Templar sized birdy about the Avvar in the Frostback Basin who were able to separate man from spirit."

"Cullen told you that?" She said with a hint of excitement, "Why?"

Anders shrugged, "It's an apology from the Inquisition, an unofficial apology."

Hawke looked into his caramel eyes and saw his optimism. He needed this, and if she were being honest, she needed it as well. Justice had become a constant obstacle in both of their lives for too long. She never knew if one day she would wake up and Anders would be no longer, only Justice. If he could somehow finally separate himself from the spirit that has been slowly gaining control over him, there was no way she was going to stop him.

"Go," She said with a sullen smile, "But Anders, come back to me. That Hightown estate is not a home without you there."

He knew the prospect of returning to Kirkwall were slim, but he could not refuse the hopefulness in her eyes, "I will."

Carver ran up to them with his battered warden armor jingling with every step. He paused, then nodded his head, "We're all ready to go."

Anders smiled at Hawke, who smiled back just as bright. He pressed a kiss on her lips, taking her in for the last time for a long time, holding onto every detail. She smiled on his lips, leaving a lingering peck on his soft lips.

"I love you, Hawke. I will see you soon."

She pressed her head, breathing in his fresh rain and lightning scent, "I'll hold you to it."