From here on out, I'm going to try and steer clear of author's notes, but I'll make it obvious who's POV it's in as early as I can. As for this chapter, it's Leliana's POV during Inquisition. After the last break though, it'll be Aedan's POV.

After spending my remaining hour of sleep tossing and turning, just unable to reach the Fade, I decide to get up. I get dressed, brush my hair, and go out to the rookery, leaving the door open behind me as usual. Today feels like any normal day in Skyhold except for the nightmares. Corypheus has stopped trying to control all of the Wardens, so I've stopped hearing the Taint singing, and the nightmares of darkspawn and Archdemons have gone away, but last night, my dreams were unnaturally...vivid. I crossed into some demon's realm when I did find sleep, and it tormented me all night. Whatever kind of demon that was, I would be perfectly happy finding myself clear of the thing. It dug deep into my head, causing fears I didn't even know I had to surface. From my experience, that would be a particularly powerful opponent, and suddenly, I'm all the more glad I get to remain in Skyhold when the Inquisitor hears of a rift that needs closing. I would help if I could, but after all the demons I have had to deal with alongside my family, I would be just as happy to avoid them. Still, that was frightening enough that the nightmares stick in my mind all morning, distracting me and keeping me from getting much done.

My agents notice rather quickly, but Arin, on his routine visit to the rookery he takes when he returns from somewhere, is the first to say anything about it.

I'm standing by the small statue to Andraste hidden in an alcove when he appears. He says something I don't catch, too absorbed in my thoughts on the dreams, and he has to touch my shoulder to get my full attention. By the way he cringes when I snap myself into reality and look to him, I gather that was something he was afraid to do. At first, I wonder why. Elissa, Alistair, and Aedan touch me all the time, sometimes in public in front of all the soldiers. Then I remember I don't exactly encourage anyone else's touches. The casual bump of shoulders will set me off on bad days.

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor. What did you say?"

"I asked if you were feeling better," he says, visibly relaxing at my ignorance of his hand.

"Feeling better? Are you referring to my outburst in the war room last week, or something else?"

"Both?" Arin says awkwardly.

I debate about it. I really can't hate Morrigan no matter how much I want to. We have never exactly been friends, but we've been on a first-name basis before. Years ago, when I still found myself able to put a little trust in the woman. Now we find titles or other ways to talk when necessary, but thankfully, that is uncommon. Her work and my own rarely coincide. I gave up trying to get past my dislike for her after she disappeared just as we went to confront a Maker-damn god! Still, she did save the Wardens from the Archdemon, and that remains to be the only reason I have for tolerating her existence.

"I am better now," I decide aloud.

Arin smiles, clearly happy at the realization. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. Has seeing your friends alive helped any?"

"As it always has," I admit. Not that I'm embarrassed about it. Those three are everything to me. Who wouldn't be emboldened by a visit from them, especially if they all were believed to be dead? "I was glad to see Elissa and Alistair made it out of Haven unharmed."

The smirk that cracks Arin's face makes me feel the need to scowl. I know that look; I know that look very, very well. "And the other Warden? Aedan? How happy did that make you?"

"Happy enough to threaten the Inquisitor's life," I retort, stepping past him. I intentionally hit his shoulder with my own, but he only laughs.

"Ooh, mutiny from the stony Spymaster? Varric will love to hear about this," he says, following me to my desk. I snort indignantly, picking up a report I have yet to read. "So I take it that's a good thing, then?"

"I don't know. I am very good at killing people while they sleep." He chuckles. "You may want to start sleeping somewhere else. I know I can pick the locks on the doors to your quarters."

Arin's face blanches. "Do I even want to ask?"

"No, probably not," I say. I flip the envelope over and run my thumb beneath the flap to tear it open. "So is there something you wanted to talk to me about in particular?"

"First I'd know why you seem so unfocused this morning."

I shake my head dismissively. "It's nothing to concern yourself with, Inquisitor. Just had a bad night."

"Uh-huh. That's what you said after the Agents left the war room at the beginning of the week. Is it that kind of bad night, or was sleeping just rough?"

I ignore that he implied I would sleep with someone other than Aedan to say, "Trouble sleeping is all, Herald. Don't worry about it when there are far more appropriate things to worry over."

He raises a brow. "Such as?"

I look up at him, frowning at the teasing light in his eyes. "You need to spend more time away from Sera and her immaturity."

He laughs, saying, "No, I need my daily dose of crazy blonds."

"You could talk to Elissa for that."

"I could," he says, shrugging. "But I always feel like Elissa would snap me in half if I said something wrong."

"Who knows? Elissa is a crazy blond."

"And I feel like she knows everything I say or do," he says nervously. "The way she looks at me...ugh, it's creepy, to say the least. I hate how she zones out and just stares at me. I think she's trying to look into my soul or something."

"She does give off that impression that she could, doesn't she?"

"Creators, you're a difficult person," Arin groans. "Must you torment me with the possibility that she seriously could be doing that?"

"I'm completely serious," I say flatly. "I don't know everything she can do. I am not even sure she does. Things just...happen. Sometimes it is magic Hope creates, but more often than not, it's something being the Agent of the Maker does to her." I don't mention that when that's the case, I feel...different. Having talked to the other two, I understand they feel similar, like we could do anything in those few seconds, but as far as I know, Elissa doesn't know she does that to us. The first time she did something with us around, during her duel with Loghain, I will admit to having a ridiculously strong urge to pummel the general before he could hurt her further. It took all of my willpower to stay where I was standing. If we have nothing else holding us together, we have the strange bond we created when we all pledged ourselves to the Agents.

"That's even creepier."

"I'm not sorry."

Arin snorts. "Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you all know we were back. Cole got himself hurt, but it's nothing major. Only a little out of my power to heal. The mages are working on him now."

"Anything else?"

He shakes his head. "I want to call a meeting after supper. Be ready, and no throttling Morrigan. She's coming to this one."

"I'm not making any promises."

The Inquisitor rolls his eyes. "If I knew what having them show up would turn you into, I would never have agreed to helping Josie track the Wardens down."

I shrug. "I'll be back to myself as soon as I see Morrigan."

He laughs, turning away to start back down the tower. "I'll talk to you later, Spymaster."

One of my agents runs up the stairs past him. He hits Arin rather roughly, making him pause and turn. As the man draws closer, I realize I don't recognize him. While I may not know every single name of my scouts and spies, I make an effort to remember their faces. I have yet to forget one, and I don't remember anyone telling me someone new was places under my command.

Arin starts back over towards us as the man clad in typical scout armor stops. "I was sent with a message from one of the scouts in the Fereldan-Orlesian pass."

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "And?"

Arin joins us in time to hear him say, "All of them are dead. All of them. The Agents, the scouts, your Agents. Anyone and everyone was killed."

"Just how exactly do you expect me to believe that?"

A grin slowly forms on his face. "Because I struck the Cousland down myself."

My fists clench, but I restrain myself. This has to be some morbid prank Sera came up with. That's the only possible explanation I have. "Very funny." He reaches into his pocket and slaps down a leather cord. I don't understand, not at first, but then the worn out leather and red weave clicks in the very back of my mind.

I gave that to Aedan.

"I figured I'd bring that back for you, Warden," he says. I can't look away from it. Maker, this can't be happening. "After all, it really is not fair to leave you wondering when we'd come for you."

We?

The man lunges for me, slamming me into the wall, but Arin yanks him off and throws him to the ground. The Inquisitor goes for him, but I pull him back by the shoulder. The man tries to climb to his feet; I don't let him. As he's pushing himself up, I kick under him, hitting his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. He crumples, coughing, and I push the pain in my foot aside. I crouch beside him, forcing the soon-to-be dead idiot to roll over. He whips, having recovered surprisingly quickly, and swings a rusted knife at my chest. The blade hits my armor, but as damaged as it is, does nothing. I swat the weapon away before grabbing the stolen armor he's wearing to lift him, and then slam his head off the floor.

Dazed and hurt, I bring his face inches from my own. "You're going to tell me everything. And if you won't do it willingly, I'll make you sing."

He laughs past a cough. "Nothing...to tell. All dead."

Arin had been calling for guards, for Dorian and Solas, but as soon as he sees me raise my arm to punch the moron on the floor, he grabs me. "Leliana!" I shake him off and get in a hit good enough to crack the man's nose. I feel the bone break the instant my fist hits his face, but that doesn't make me feel guilty. All I feel is a grim sense of satisfaction. I go to do it again, intending to break his entire face, but Arin yanks me back, pulling me to my feet. "Leliana, stop!" He throws me towards the table to prevent me from doing something further. "You need to think. Don't come any closer."

Now that I'm over here, away from the intruder, the fear sinks in, pushing the anger and confusion to the back of my mind. "Didn't you hear what he said? He...he..."

I don't have words. I have nothing to say.

Arin and the recently arrived guards, along with Solas and Dorian, get the man on his feet after Arin gives them a brief summary of the events. I, however, lose interest in their conversation. My eyes have drifted to the worn leather bracelet by my hip, and now I pick it up, hoping, begging, praying, that this is a fake. I would do anything for this to not be happening. As I turn it over in the palm of my hand, the voice in my head tells me what I already know. This really is happening. Something happened to the others, to Aedan, and now I'm terrified.

Seeing the laurel imprinted on the leather confirms my fear. That crest was the whole reason I bought it in the first place. We were in Denerim, looking for Brother Genitivi, Marjolaine, and Alistair's sister. We had dealt with the latter two almost immediately, and being unable to express how thankful I was for his help with words, I had gone out to the market on my own after everybody ate supper. The first vendor I stopped at had a pile of these, but this was the only one with the Cousland crest stamped on it. Aedan had spent weeks doing everything in his power to remember a family he lost, so I bought it right then and there, not caring how many sovereigns it would cost. To this day, I don't remember. All I remember is his smile when I presented it to him later that night.

And then I think of how I may never get to see that smile again. That smile I used to have to work to see, the one I earned, my favorite thing to see when I wake up in the mornings. It could be gone. I could have lost it forever.

I can't take it. I squeeze my fist around the leather and red string bracelet before collapsing onto a bench. Sitting here, I realize how my entire world is balanced on their survival, on Aedan's, and how my world has already begun to crumble seconds after finding out. The only three people I could ever give my complete and total trust to, the only people to have stuck by my side through everything, could be dead.

The last time I let myself cry was when I had a breakdown the morning of the Landsmeet. I had a vivid nightmare of my time in the Orlesians' possession and ended up crying in Aedan's arms. A place where no one else could see me, where I could walk away and still be the same person I was when I entered.

I don't try to stop the tears this time. It would be stupid and pointless. I could have just lost every reason I have to keep living. I couldn't care less what people think of me or the sobs racking my body. All I can think of is how Aedan is lying somewhere, hurt, bleeding, possibly dead, and that I'm alone without him. It hits me hard, the realization that I might never see him again. I might never hear his voice, see his smile, feel his lips on mine, or the flutter of my heart when he tells me he loves me. I could never feel his touch, hear his laugh. After everything we went through, how would it be fair to lose him now? I refuse to believe he's dead. He can't be. I already lost Justinia because of the Inquisition. The Maker can't take him. Not now. I just got him back...not more than a week ago...

I have to find them.

Days pass. I put all of my resources and all of my men into finding the Agents and my missing soldiers. I hardly eat; I hardly sleep. I hate to say it, but I can take my scouts being dead if my family is returned to me. I'll be able to cope. Just...I don't even know anymore. I am at a complete loss for things to do.

The rookery is empty now. I am the only one inside, just as before, but Arin does not walk in. He is busy helping Cullen with the search parties. All of my energy was wasted that first night on beating that fool to hell and back. I kept my promise. He sang. And then he died. I made sure it hurt, but I couldn't let him live long enough to make sure his information was correct. So far, it has proven to be false, but the pass between Ferelden and Orlais is large. They could be anywhere within. I had my scouts check the Inquisition agents' posts first, but there was no sign of them ever being there, or of anyone going towards it for them.

I want to give up. This is foolish; we could search for weeks and find no traces of them, or the people that attacked. I don't call off the search though. Arin could, being the Inquisitor and therefore, my superior, but he allows the burning of our assets. The Agents and missing scouts must mean more to him than he lets on.

People have been avoiding me for the most part, leaving me to my thoughts and my fear. Josie comes up with food everyday as an excuse to check on me. She'll stay for an hour before having to leave so she can get back to work, but other than Arin, and the occasional visit from Cassandra, I'm alone. I don't talk much when they come looking for me. I sit here with a blank look, staring off into space. Every part of me aches. My agents are dead or injured. My family is in a similar condition. The two I found a brother and sister in, and the man I love. There isn't a moment that goes by when I don't think of them. I beg the Maker every morning to bring them back alive, and every night, Andraste for some sign that they're still alive. Nothing happens, but I never expect something to. The Maker works in His own ways, so I don't question it. I've learned to go with what He throws on my plate, yet I find myself wishing He would do something for me. Just once. Just once, I want my answer immediately. My patience is gone; this waiting is killing me.

The tower is usually bursting with signs of life. Now that my agents aren't coming to and fro at all hours of the day, it is silent. Dorian and Solas are with the Inquisitor at all times, as are most of his companions. They go out with him when he goes to personally oversee one of the searches. Not one of them stay behind. If someone has the numbers to take down as many men as the idiot claimed, then it is a good plan to go in a large group.

I hear the door open and close, but I don't move to see who it is. I'm sitting on the balcony with my back against the wall. The wind whips at my face and my hair. A normally pleasant feeling, but right now, I only feel despair. Aedan could be dead. The very idea of it causes images of him covered in blood, eyes wide, locked on some distant point no one understands until they see it themselves. I watched him die twice. Once at Kirkwall when Elissa barely managed to revive him, and the other time being at Redcliffe. That is two times too many. The thought of him being dead brings tears to my eyes. I've cried more in the last few days than I have in my entire life. When I sleep, I cry myself there. I will be working on securing more resources for the Inquisition, and out of nowhere, a wave of grief will claim me, and not go away until I've forgotten what I had been doing before.

"Where are you?"

I don't bother to be confused by Morrigan's voice. "Out here." She appears in the doorway a moment later, arms crossed. "What?"

"I...came to see you," she says.

I snort out a bitter laugh. "That's a first. Did Talith talk you into it?"

"Of course he did," she snaps. "After last week, what makes you think I would want to be around you?" I shrug halfheartedly. Being around anyone associated with my Wardens hurts. Her presence is doing more damage than not.

"What?" I repeat.

Morrigan hesitates before walking around in front of me. "You cannot stay like this. Tis foolish, and unhealthy. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"And you are a Grey Warden. You should be eating enough food for three grown men, not starving like a leper in the streets." I blink. I should be eating. I can't make myself though. I do not have the energy to, nor the willpower. When I just sit here, my blink my response, Morrigan sighs. "How are you feeling?"

The question is so stupid that I want to hit something. "How do you think I'm feeling? Everyone I love could be dead!"

"If you would take a moment to stop wallowing in sadness, I would be able to tell you my other reason for joining you, Leliana."

I cringe at the way my name sounds coming from her, but say nothing about it. "They're dead, aren't they? That is it? Their bodies were found?"

"No," Morrigan says. "They are not dead." For a split second, I get my hopes up. They were found alive! And then, being foolish and stupid as I am, I realize she means that their deaths still have yet to be confirmed. But in the corner of my mind, the possibility of seeing Elissa, Aedan, and Alistair again ignites the spark that died. They could be...

"Don't lie to me," I snarl.

"I do not lie," Morrigan says in a matter-of-fact tone. "The report came in minutes ago. The Inquisitor sent me to tell you they were found." I look up from the bracelet I've been twirling in my hands. I have not let go of it since the intruder slammed it onto my desk. "Few survived, and those that did are wounded severely enough that all of the mages in Skyhold will be needed for healing."

I feel broken parts of myself piecing themselves back together. "Are you helping?"

"I owe it to Elissa."

"How do you know she's alive? Are the others? Did the report say anything about-"

Morrigan interrupts my outburst by raising her hand. "Do not tell me you expect Elissa to be dead. If so, you are a bigger fool than I thought."

"Well, fine, but did-"

"The report said nothing on who was found. Your scout only said that he found the party being looked for, and to send help to him."

"I...thank you Morrigan."

She nods. "You are welcome. Now excuse me while I return to the garden to throttle Talith."

I wave her off, now too absorbed in the thought of seeing them all again. They could be alive...Aedan could be alive. I might be able to see him again.

A smile cracks my face. Small, faint, nearly nonexistent, but there. Aedan could be alive!

A week passes before any new information is sent to Skyhold. It has taken some effort, but the search party is returning, and should be in the hold within the day.

That was this morning.

Now it is long past nightfall, and my body has gotten surprisingly sluggish. I haven't slept since finding out about what happened. Not even Morrigan telling me that they had been found would let me sleep. The excitement is pumping through my veins again with renewed force, but it's not enough to keep my eyelids open. My lack of sleep is catching up on me. I still have to force myself to get up and go to bed. I want to stay up, to be awake when they arrive, but my body can't handle it. So I collapse on the blankets, fully clothed and armored, and fall asleep.

It feels like seconds have passed when someone is calling my name from the door.

"The Herald wants you at the gates, Leliana," Josie says. "Wake up."

I grunt, but if Arin wants me at the gates, that can only mean one thing. I may be tired, but I'm not stupid. The search party is returning.

I roll off my bed, tangled in the blankets, and free myself rather ungracefully. Josie gets a few laughs out of it, so I shrug and say nothing. She leads me through the deserted tower and out of the main hall. Down in the courtyard, people are running around, shouting for healers and medical supplies. The portcullis is raised, but no one stands by it. Josie and I walk there anyway. I pull up my hood as I go to help keep my hair from getting in my eyes, my nose, or my mouth. As we approach, voices can be heard from the causeway. Someone is shouting for everyone to 'just get the fuck off me and let me walk!' while the Inquisitor tells them to lay still or they'll have to be knocked out.

Josie stops in front of me, so I walk around past her to get a look at who is coming. Six stretchers are being carried between the scouts, and Arin is running between them, casting small healing spells where they're needed so the mages will not have to worry about the minor wounds. One particular person is causing a fuss, arguing every time the Inquisitor tries to heal her.

Morrigan was right.

Elissa sits up, and even from this distance, I can see she's in bad shape. The blues and silvers of Warden clothes are stained red, cut to pieces, or burned off in areas. Her hair is a mess. She has a bruise on her forehead that stretches down to her left eye and a gash along her hairline on the other side. One of her arms is in a splint and wrapped in bandages. Her armor is blackened from scorch marks. It's hard for me to tell, but I think they've wrapped her entire leg in linen. Several bandages on her torso have already been soaked through by blood.

I snap myself to attention, and abandoning all sense of propriety, I run across the bridge to them. She's yelling at the scout in the front, saying that she'll make him wish he were dead if he doesn't let her down. She reaches for him just as I wrap an arm around her chest and shoulders.

"Calm yourself," I say. "You are injured. Don't reopen your wounds."

The scouts have stopped walking, so when Elissa chokes on a sob and throws her arms around me, it is not awkward for me to walk. "Oh thank the Maker! They said they were coming for you!" For most people, seeing the Hero of Ferelden snap and cry where people could see would be strange. For me, it's not. It would be if I wasn't so relieved to see her. She latches onto my torso, hugging me so tightly that my bones ache. As badly injured as she is, I wouldn't expect her to be that strong. Still, I let her cry herself out. The other scouts have continued on, into the keep, so their charges can be seen by the healers. I don't get to look for Aedan. It hurts to have to wait longer, but Elissa needs me to stand here and have my bones crushed. Her face is buried in my side and her arms are around my waist, but I don't try to move her. I just wrap my own arms around her head and neck, patting her shoulder in the most calming way I possibly can.

The Warden is shaking when I get free and have my agents continue moving. She tries to remain sitting, but I urge her to lay down and rest.

"I spent days lying in puddles of my own blood and snow. I don't need to rest."

I roll my eyes, thankful for the distraction of dealing with her. While I love her like a younger sister, Aedan is who I've been so worried about, and I need something else to think about. She provides that freedom.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" I ask as we cross beneath the portcullis.

"Four," she says.

"No, all of them," I say. "Lay back and get some rest. You have a concussion on top of everything else."

"I'm fine!" she protests.

"No, you're not!" I snap. "Your leg is broken, your arm is in a similar condition, and you have so many wounds still bleeding that I can't even begin to count. Have you see your face recently, Liss? You have a bruise covering the entire left side and a wound leaking blood on the right. You're in no condition to argue."

She gives a bitter laugh. "I wouldn't even be like this if I could get Hope to come out." Her face darkens and her eyes water, but she holds herself together.

"We can worry about that later," I say. "For now, you go with these soldiers and allow the mages to heal you. I'll be down to check on you and the others in a few hours."

"No!" Elissa exclaims. "You need to come with me. I need to know who attacked us and who is after you. I won't remember as much if they put me to sleep. Please, come. I swear I'll tell you everything, Leliana. Just don't let me forget."

After knowing her as long as I have, you would think I'd expect her mood swings. I do not. She is never like this. I would expect her to be upset, furious even, but not broken.

"I can't, Liss. I have to help the Inquisitor."

I still start to follow them up the stairs, but Josie grabs my shoulder to hold me in place. Elissa looks annoyed with the both of us as my men carry her to the building being converted into an infirmary. I watch them go, silently praying to the Maker to have Aedan as one of the men brought back.

Then I turn to find a crowd has gathered. Fereldans, all of them. Worried about their Hero.

"Will she be all right, Spymaster?"

I almost answer, almost lie to them and say of course she will be, that she's the Hero of Ferelden, that nothing will stop her, but Cole, damn boy, appears beside me.

"Why wouldn't the spirit do what she does? Why is everything I love falling apart? Would the Maker truly abandon us?" I don't shut him up. I feel him rooting through my mind, finding all of the problems bothering me, but I let him. I am not sure why. "Why do I stay with the Inquisition when the Agents need me more? Why do I let things like this happen?" I usually make him stop because he drags up painful memories. Memories of the Blight, of battles with the Orlesians, of Corypheus before the explosion at the Conclave. "I am a traitor, playing both fields, and the whole of Thedas knows. I stay when the Inquisition will be forced to submit to the Agents of the Maker. I stay when I know I'll turn on them without hesitation."

Cole blinks, taking a deep breath. "So much fire...so much burning. So many darkspawn. Can we expect to get to the Archdemon? Is it even safe to do so? We could be dead within the hour." I remember running through the streets of Denerim with the Wardens, stopping every few feet to kill more of the blasted fiends. "So many people are dead, so much blood. Screaming everywhere. Mostly innocent people caught by darkspawn. Denerim is burning. The Blight is consuming Ferelden. We failed."

I remember standing at the gates to the Alienage, thinking of the two elven children who helped us find the slavers taking them to Tevinter. Arin and Sera. How were we supposed to know we had met the most important person Thedas would see this age? All I was concerned with was getting through the Alienage to the Archdemon.

"Celene is going to violate the treaty between Ferelden and Orlais. Elissa knows. She looks scared, faintly. I should go in with her, or let her take her bow. I should be smarter than this." I shudder at the memory. That was the day Orlais attacked Ferelden, the day it was decided the southern half of Thedas would be consumed by war. "How am I supposed to find them in this mess? I need to find Aedan. He could be hurt. Anora could be dead. Where are they?!" I am feeling a familiar sense of fear now, standing here as Cole puts everything out there for the Inquisition to see. "We need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe. Aedan refuses to leave Anora's side. He leaves with her, going to Highever. It's my job to find Elissa and Alistair. Why did he leave me like this?" I feel the sense of betrayal all over again. "She did not just tell me that. She can't be serious. But she is; I know she is. She's willing to burn Denerim to the ground to spare the rest of Ferelden from the Chevaliers."

"That's enough, Cole," Josie says. Her face betrays nothing, nothing but her concern for me.

"No, I want to hear this." Arin is halfway down the steps, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His pale skin is covered in blood and his shirt is stained with it. "Continue, Cole, if you would."

"Don't I have a choice? It is my mind after all," I say.

"No, you don't," Arin says, uncharacteristically serious and cold for his usual self. He joins us at the front of the crowd. "But we can wait until later if it would be more appropriate, and do it somewhere more private than here." At my nod, Arin starts dismissing the Fereldans. They return to their duties wordlessly, eyes cast down. Once they have gone, the Inquisitor turns to me. I expect him to say something about what he heard, but he doesn't. Instead, he says, "You both are needed in the war room." His hand keeps me from going further. "But we can wait for you." The elf jerks his head in the general direction of the infirmary. "You're needed elsewhere anyhow. Go."

"Are you sure? They can always-"

"I know that look whether you want to admit it or not," Arin says. "You won't be fully committed to anything until you know that they're safe. So go. We can manage without you for the time being."

I hesitate. I have never let anything or anyone come between me and my duty to the Inquisition. But I have never left them to suffer alone either. And I have to know about Aedan. Now. "You'll send someone if I'm needed?"

Arin nods. "Of course."

While he and Josie make their way to the keep, leading me up the stairs, I start towards Cassandra. The quartermaster's office has been relocated to a collection of rooms in the main building so as to leave this small, beaten up one free for the injured. It is far better than being out in the cold during the occasional blizzard Skyhold will see. I shoulder the door open and kick it shut with the heel of my boot. Few people are actually awake to moan in pain with the spells. Bandages are flying around the room, tossed away when used or unused, depending on who they go to. Most of the light in the building is coming from the blue glow emanating from the healers' hands.

One of my scouts is closest to the door. He has linen wrapped around his eyes and a salve being rubbed into his forehead. His torso is concealed by the mage tending to him, but by the burns on his leg, and the bandage presently soaking through with blood on his calf, I gather he's not in good shape.

A mage, a short, stout man with a neatly trimmed red beard, walks up to me. He's swallowing a flask of blue liquid as he does so, and tosses it to the side once drained of its contents. The vial shatters on the stone wall, but I say nothing. Behind him, a few of his fellows do the same. Their apprentices hurry about to clean the mess up and bring them more lyrium.

"Can't be in here, miss," he says.

I raise a brow. "Why?"

"Busy," he says, folding his arms. "I don't give a rat's ass that you're one of the boss-ladies, or that these are your men, or that these are your friends. You go sit outside and wait for someone to come get you. Otherwise you'll just be in the way."

"Don't try my patience. I'll stand where I want to, and you will say nothing of it. Get back to your job before I make you."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

I huff while he waddles off to heal the wounded. My arms cross over my chest as I sidetrack myself to a free table. It is the farthest away from the mages, but affords the best view of the room. I still can't see the final two cots, and the four I can see occupy Elissa, Alistair (thank the Maker) and two of my spies. Alistair and Elissa are both half-conscious, whispering reassuring words to each other. It's so ridiculously sweet that it makes my heart clench. Whatever voice I had when I walked in here is gone. I can't ask if Aedan is one of the two I cannot see. I don't want to know if I lost him. Not yet. I couldn't bear it. I would completely break down if someone told me.

My hand reaches into my pocket for the bracelet I've been fondling for the past week or so, and like usual, I twist it through my fingers and over my knuckles. The feeling of the rough leather running over my skin takes my mind away from the present. Normally I would have my gloves on, but since finding this sensation helps me cope, I have gone without them.

I pull myself onto the table and lean against the wall, stifling a yawn. I am still as exhausted as I was earlier, and I don't feel like anyone will need me in the coming hours, so I put my head back and close my eyes, hands clenched around the leather and red bracelet.

I just hope that Aedan's there when I open my eyes.

A shaking feeling is what rouses me. I refrain from lashing out with the little energy I have to open my eyes. Elissa's face is right next to mine and I jump, pushing her away with a yelp of surprise. She laughs, holding her sides, doubled over to keep her balance.

"What the hell was that for?" I hiss angrily. "You should be resting!"

Elissa straightens and clears her expression. "Could you go snore somewhere else then? I was trying to sleep, but you're so Maker-damn loud that it's impossible!"

"I haven't slept for days," I retort.

She snorts indignantly. "I haven't felt safe for days. We're on equal footing." Then she turns on her heel and limps back to her cot, favoring the leg that was broken not so long ago. The Warden flops down and is asleep within seconds of closing her eyes, leaving me to my thoughts.

My muscles are stiff from sleeping in such a strange position, but I hop off the table anyway, stretching the soreness out of them. I yawn as quietly as I can so as not to disturb the people arranged in a neat row. After rubbing the sleep from my eyes and steeling myself for the possible grief I'm about to experience, I make my way towards the cots. I pass my scout, who has had the bandage around his calf removed, and Alistair's sleeping form, followed by Elissa's, and another spy, but the last two...

I can't be sure who they are. The man on the end is quite a ways away from any real light, and the man only a few feet away is wearing Agent colors. Despite being their leaders, Elissa, Alistair, and Aedan don't wear the black and white expected of them. They seem content to wear Warden blues and silvers.

I swallow what little resolve I have and continue past the Agent to the final bed. My eyes have to adjust to the lack of light, but the instant I recognize the crest badly burned silverite armor, relief floods through my body. I can't begin to describe how relieved I am to see Aedan lying there. He's hurt, covered in plenty of blood and bandages and salves and everything in between, but he's alive.

That feeling of overwhelming relief I had when Elissa stirred after killing the Archdemon? It's the exact thing I feel now, magnified by ten. It nearly chokes me, making my throat tighten and my eyes water. I have to cover my mouth to stifle a sob as I sit on the crate beside him. I have been running myself ragged to track the survivors of the attack down, praying everyday for my friends and my scouts, not once seriously expecting to see Aedan again. But here he is, breathing easily and healing. He has many little cuts all over his face; he and Elissa must have fallen from somewhere. He has the whiplash cuts and she has the broken bones to prove it. But other than a large gash on his upper arm, and a splinted ankle, he seems fine.

Thank the Maker.

I hurt. Everywhere. My head throbs, probably from the boom of the trap's explosion Elissa set off, and my arm feels like it's on fire. The cut I got from that boulder must have been worse than I originally thought. My ankle is sore; Elissa and I were thrown off a twenty-foot cliff by a massive hammer. I sprained my ankle on the fall. My sister got the worst of it, having her arm crushed by the head of the weapon, and then breaking her leg. I'm just surprised that I'm still alive. Somehow.

I try thinking back to the moments before I passed out. The Agents and the Inquisition forces were fighting the Chevaliers off, but...one of them said something, something in Orlesian. I haven't studied Orlesian in years, and it worsens my headache to recall it, but I feel knowing what was said is important. I faintly remember recognizing the words as they were said, yet the meaning eludes me now. Still, I strain for it, and eventually, after much frustration and pain, it clicks. And my anger bubbles up in my chest, the same anger I felt the instant I heard the order being given.

Celene wants us all dead. She sent these men for the three of us, and she is sending more men for Leliana. One final, last-ditch attempt to bring Ferelden to its knees.

My eyes snap open. I need to-to-

I'm suddenly aware of the pressure on my hand, the squeezing of it by a sleeping form beside me, and the strange surroundings I don't recognize. If it wasn't for the red hair, I would have tried to kill the woman bent over my stretcher-like bed.

Leliana is sitting on a wooden box, both hands folded around my one, held to her chest, while she sleeps. There are bags under her eyes, showing a lack of sleep, and her brows are drawn together like they always are when she's dreaming. Otherwise, she looks perfectly normal, carefree even. The sight makes a smile tug at the corner of my mouth as I lean back and squeeze my eyes shut. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It ends up turning into a sigh of relief. She's fine, I'm fine, and I can see Alistair and my sister sleeping in their own cots. A healer passes between each of us, checking on everyone. He administers healing spells where needed, coming to me last.

He's a short fellow, bald with a red beard. "I told her she would only be in the way."

I frown and squeeze one of her hands with mine, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from her face. "She's fine where she's at. I'd have her nowhere else."