A/N: If there are any mistakes, I apologize. I've had such a block lately, haven't been able to write anything. Finally managed to write this chapter today because I'm heading back to university on Saturday and I realised I have to get something out before I get too busy to even look at my computer screen. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and favourited. It really means a lot to me that you guys are still following this story.

Chapter 17

Is anybody out there?

Is anybody listening?

Does anybody really know if it's the end or the beginning?

The quiet rush of one breath,

Is all we're waiting for,

Sometimes the one we're taking,

Changes everyone before.

It's everything you wanted,

It's everything you don't,

It's one door swinging open,

And one door swinging closed.

Some prayers find an answer,

Some prayers never know,

We're holding on

And letting go.

-Ross Copperman, Holding On and Letting Go.

Tristan Amell greeted the new dawn from several hundred feet above the ground. Salty air whipped around him, burrowing under his doublet with cold fingers, brushing strands of ebony hair across his eyes. The sky was an impressionist's artwork of ochre and rose light as the sun's first rays peaked over the horizon, reflecting against a deep blue sea in dazzling golden ripples. He was seated comfortably astride Umbra's back, his legs tucked up above her leathery black wings, hugging her muscular body with practiced ease. His cobalt eyes were unfocused, distant, as a thousand worried thoughts drifted through his head.

You're troubled, Umbra said gently, tilting her head slightly backwards as she flew and regarding him out of the corner of one yellow-gold eye. Tristan nodded his head, sighing.

"I keep thinking about Leandra," he confessed. "Her death. What happened that night… I could have done something,"

Umbra snorted at his words, tossing her head. The bond between them forced her to feel his emotions as her own, so she knew better than anyone what he was going through, but she could not understand it. Dragons were not used to experiencing loss. They were solitary beasts, most of whom formed no lasting bonds throughout the course of their incredibly long lives.

This wasn't your fault, she insisted quietly. You cannot punish yourself for what happened,

You've lived for hundreds of years Umbra, he silently replied. Is there nothing that you've done that you do not wish you could take back?

The dragon gave a low growl of frustration and Tristan's lips quirked in amusement as he realised that she was perhaps the wrong person to talk to about such things. Umbra was not the type to worry or reflect. She was impulsive, driven by desire and emotion. A rarity among dragons. Most of her kind would love nothing more than to spend days, if not months at a time, considering the philosophies of life and all its complexities.

Dear gods human! she snapped. What would be the point? What's done is done. The past cannot be reversed. There is no sense in worrying over it! She flicked her tail, arched her back and suddenly dived downwards, sending them both spiralling towards the ground. Tristan grinned, clinging tighter to the dragon's scaly body as they fell towards the wide expanse of blue sea beneath them. Umbra waited until the last possible moment before pulling out of the dive, sending them skimming across the ocean swells. Tristan let out an exuberant laugh as the tips of her wings dipped into the salty water and a fine misty spray drenched his skin. Umbra let out an answering cry, and the sound of her joyful roar echoed around the crags of Sundermount. Worries melted away as they slipped back into the ever-lightening sky and Umbra continued her antics, twisting and spiralling in a series of complicated loops. Where Tristan had once been terrified of flying, he was now addicted to it. Everything else paled in comparison to the feeling of soaring through the sky. He had sought her out for this very reason that morning, desperate to escape the weight of his emotions and fears, even if only for a few hours.

"I should be getting back," he sighed eventually, his heart immediately growing heavy as he thought back to the day ahead. He had promised Hawke that he would stop by her mansion and help her pack.

A mistake, he thought miserably. She's only running away,

Umbra made a lazy loop back towards Kirkwall, the beat of her sleek leather wings nearly silent beneath the rush of the wind around them.

"Don't land too close to the city," he cautioned the dragon. "We don't need to cause any more trouble around here,"

I'm really starting to dislike this place, Umbra replied. The sooner we leave the better,

"Trust me I know," he sighed. "Ferelden is better,"

We need to be heading back to the Imperium, Umbra thought back, her wings flaring slightly as she descended to the shore. They landed with an audible thud on the beach, white gold sand spraying haphazardly around them. Or have you forgotten what those mages are planning?

"Of course I haven't forgotten," Tristan sighed, slipping down from her back. Umbra dipped her head towards him, regarding him with ageless golden eyes. "Look, as soon as we get back to Ferelden we're going to start figuring out a way to deal with this. I promise," he reached his hand up, gently stroking her muzzle. "Stay safe,"

He moved backwards and Umbra took off once more, swiftly ascending into the morning sky. Tristan watched her until she was nothing more than a speck in his vision before turning and heading back towards the city. He took his time, his feet carrying him back along the rocky pathways without much conscious thought.

Each time he closed his eyes, an image of Leandra would flicker to life. He would remember her smiling, eager face as she introduced him to her murderer, remember the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach as he had stared into that man's empty, soulless eyes… and then, then he would remember her changed. Grey skin, dead eyes and a smile that held no blame.

An eternity of soaring high up on Umbra's back would never be enough to chase away the memory of that night.

A familiar voice from up ahead suddenly drifted towards him, distracting him from his reverie. He froze, startled to find Isabela standing on one of the meandering pathways on the ledge below. She wasn't alone. A shadow of a man stood beside her, reed thin and clad in an assortment of well-worn dirt stained clothes. Instinctively Tristan crouched down behind the shelter of several pockmarked boulders to conceal himself, straining his ears against the rush of the wind to hear their whispered exchange.

"You're sure it's the right one?" Isabela muttered. "You've been wrong before, Jeremy,"

The man beside her, Jeremy, nodded his head. "I'm sure, okay? It's not like there's dozens of Qunari relics running around Kirkwall. There's going to be an exchange tonight,"

"Where?"

"A foundry in Lowtown. That's all I know. The Tevinter Magisters will be there to pick it up,"

"Does anyone else know about this?" Isabela demanded.

Jeremy gave her a pointed look. "If I know about it, you can be sure there are a dozen others out there too. Way I hear it, this damn book is worth its weight in gold,"

"It's worth more than that," the pirate sighed. "This thing is going to save my skin," she reached for a coin purse at her side, handing it across to the thug without bothering to glance inside. "Thanks Jem,"

He pocketed the small leather pouch without comment, nodded his head once, turned and continued walking down the pathway to Kirkwall, leaving Isabela alone. She dropped her head into her hands, cursing softly. Tristan straightened, moved out from his hiding place and gracefully vaulted down from the rocky ledge he had been walking upon, landing with a thud on the path below. Isabela's head jerked up, golden brown eyes wide and startled.

"What are you doing out here?" she demanded, her eyes flickering about in alarm, as though trying to gauge where he had come from and how much he would have been able to overhear of her conversation.

"Last time I checked," he began, ignoring her question, "the Qunari didn't like sharing. So whatever this relic is, I suggest you leave it the hell alone,"

"You were spying on me?" she growled, her expression darkening.

"Don't be an idiot, Bela. Whatever it is you're planning, it's not worth your life,"

"That's where you're wrong," she snapped. "This thing is worth my life. There is someone out there who is willing to kill me if I don't get it back for him,"

"Castillon, you mean?" Tristan replied. "Abigail told me about all about your little dilemma," he added, catching sight of Isabela's disconcerted expression. The pirate folded her arms across her chest.

"Let me guess… You're going to tell me that I have to give this relic back to the Qunari, or you'll make me do it. Is that how this is going to work?" she demanded.

"You really think I would do something that would get you hurt?" he replied, his voice quiet. Isabela stilled, the anger rapidly fading from her face, melting into uncertainty. "If this relic is going to get that mercenary away from you, then it's yours – no questions asked," he continued. "We'll go to the foundry together tonight,"

"You would do that for me?"

Tristan nodded his head. "Yea, I would. But I want you to do something for me too,"

Gold eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's that?"

"At dawn tomorrow, I'm leaving Kirkwall. I want you to come with me, Bela,"

"You…" her eyes widened as the full impact of what he had said hit her. "On your ship, you mean?"

A slight grin flickered across his features. "Nah, I figured you could swim on behind," he teased her.

She smacked his arm. "Come on! Be serious here for a moment,"

"I want you to come with me," he repeated. "On my ship. You can't pretend that after tonight you won't want to get as far away from Kirkwall as possible,"

"Perhaps," she shrugged one shoulder, still watching him carefully. "But why do you want me?"

Lazily he reached for her, his fingers curling around her arm and gently tugging her closer. She moved forwards willingly, her eyes never leaving his.

"Maybe I don't want to say goodbye. Not yet,"

She smiled at his words. "Why not?"

"Because when I'm around you, I finally get to feel like myself," he answered truthfully. "Not a mage, not a Grey Warden, not the Hero of Ferelden, just me. You have no idea how refreshing that is. You're the only person I've ever known who doesn't treat people differently based on what they are, and I love that about you,"

She visibly flinched at his last statement, panic flickering across her features.

"Tristan…" she said quickly, a note of warning in her voice.

His hand dropped away, releasing his hold on her. "Just think about it," he said. "Hawke is coming too," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Hawke's leaving Kirkwall?" Isabela sounded stunned.

Tristan nodded. "Just for a while… She wants to get away for a bit. I think she'd enjoy having you with her,"

"I'll think about it," the pirate shrugged. "Can I still count on you for tonight?"

He grinned, feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel. I'll think about it, really wasn't good enough for him. He couldn't begin explain, even to himself, this sudden, desperate desire he had not to let her go. He had told himself a thousand times that it would never work. She was too free-spirited, adventurous, reckless and impulsive to hang onto. And yet it was these very traits about her that kept drawing him in, traits that he couldn't help but admire and love. She was everything he had once been before he had been made a Grey Warden and the weight of the world had suddenly been dumped upon his unwilling shoulders. He wasn't ready to lose the one person he had to remind him that life wasn't all about responsibility.

"You can always count on me," he reassured her.

She smirked at him. "I'll remember that," she said warningly.

He nodded his head, his expression turning serious once more. "You should. Come on," he added, waving his hand in the general direction of the city. "I promised Hawke I'd hang around Hightown today to help her pack up,"

"Fun," Isabela remarked jadedly, rolling her eyes as she fell into step beside him. "You know, if we're leaving… We should have a going away party or something,"

Tristan laughed. "You mean we should all get together at the Hanged Man and drink ourselves into a stupor? Guess what, Bela? We do that every night already,"

"Well now we have a reason to do it," she replied cheerfully. "And we'll invite more people,"

Gold eyes now dancing with eagerness, she held up one hand and began counting off names on her fingers. Tristan watched her with amusement, listening with half an ear as she rattled off. It was only as they strolled into Hightown that he realised with a jolt that she had said 'we're leaving' instead of 'you'. He glanced across at her, hope blossoming in his chest. It seemed that whether Isabela consciously knew it or not, she had already decided to come with him.

"Tristan!" Aveline's voice rang out sharply across the square, distracting him from his thoughts. Tristan lifted his head, catching sight of the red-head amidst the smattering of noblemen milling about. His blue eyes narrowed, scanning the Guard Captain's face as she strode towards them. Her expression was grim but determined.

Great, he silently groaned. Bad news,

"Yes?" he sighed, once she had drawn near enough that shouting was no longer necessary. "Is there something that you wanted, or do you just like screaming my name?"

Aveline flushed slightly at the innuendo, shooting a murderous glance across at a smirking Isabela. "That is why people shouldn't spend too much time in your company, whore. They start to sound like you," she snapped at her.

"I'm serious Aveline," Tristan muttered. "I'm not in the mood for any more bad news. So before you start, think carefully about what you want to say to me,"

"The Viscount's son has decided to join the Qunari,"

"I'll send his father my condolences," he replied indifferently.

Aveline hissed softly in frustration. "Damn it Amell!" she stepped closer to him, green eyes blazing with annoyance. "Would you just come with me? I have to ask Hawke to sort this out and it'll be easier if you're with me. You're the only one she's really talked to since Leandra… you know…"

Tristan winced at his aunts name, grimacing. "Fine," he muttered quickly, turning towards the Hawke estate. "Let's just get this over with,"

…

Several large, bulging leather bags greeted them as they entered the estate. Abigail had started packing without him, it seemed. Tristan winced, his eyes flickering from the luggage on the floor to the red-haired woman standing beside him. Aveline cast one glance at the bags, her expression growing stony.

"Hawke!" she yelled, her voice echoing around the room.

Footsteps approached and his dark-haired cousin appeared at the balustrade above them.

"Aveline," she greeted her, her voice weary. "Whatever you're about to say…"

"You can't leave," Aveline said flatly, shaking her head.

"Aveline…" she sighed. "I was going to tell you. All of you. Tonight,"

"Tell me what?" Aveline replied sharply. "That you're running away? That you're giving up? You can't leave Hawke! People need you here!"

The dark haired mage moved towards the staircase, slowly descending the steps. "I'm not running away Aveline," she stated, her voice calm. "I'm getting some distance, taking some space. It's not like I'm never returning to Kirkwall,"

"Tristan," Aveline turned towards him. "Tell me you haven't agreed to this?"

"I have to leave Kirkwall. I've stayed here for far too long as it is," Tristan replied. "And if Abby wants to come along with me, then I have no problem with it. She's my family. I'll look after her,"

"We're her family too!" Aveline returned hotly. "Taking her away from everything familiar isn't going to help anything!"

"So what do you propose I do?" Abby asked, her quiet voice a sharp contrast to Aveline's loud one. "What do you think will help? I've lost four family members now. I've tried every method of grieving. Nothing ever helps," she spat, her voice growing icier with every word."So forgive me if the only thing I have left to do is try and hang onto the last real family I have left,"

Aveline's shoulder's slumped in defeat, the anger ebbing away from her features, leaving only resignation. Abby gave her a small smile.

"Just think of it as a holiday," she said gently. "I'll be back before you know it,"

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you," the guard captain admitted unhappily.

"You'll be fine," Abby reassured her. "You're a great Captain. You don't need me,"

"Well," Tristan interjected, "Today she does. The Viscount's son has gone and joined up with the Qunari,"

Abigail's eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding me! What in the Maker's name would have made him do something like that? Doesn't that little brat realise how tense things are right now?"

Tristan shrugged. "Maybe you should go and tell him,"

Abby rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'll sort it out. Isabela? Want to tag along?"

"You and Aveline go," Isabela replied quickly. "Tristan and I can stay and help finish packing for you,"

"Bohdan's busy upstairs," Abby said, gesturing towards her room. "You can help by watching Sandal though. The last thing I need is him getting bored and pulling down the chandelier again,"

"We'll take care of him," Tristan reassured her. She nodded gratefully at him.

"I'll be back soon," she sighed, heading towards the door. Aveline followed her out. The door slammed shut, the sound resonating through the quiet house.

"So…" Isabela glanced around suspiciously. "We don't really have to look after the kid, do we? I mean… he's going to have to learn to fend for himself… What's going to happen to them when Hawke leaves anyway?"

"Bohdan and Sandal are going to look after the mansion for Hawke while she's gone," Tristan replied, leaning lazily against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. "And no, we don't really have to look after Sandal. He's busy enchanting something – I can sense it from here. That should keep him busy for a while now,"

"Good," Isabela visibly relaxed. She jerked her head towards the library. "Come on. We can play a round of Wicked Grace while we wait for them to come back,"

A/N: Yes, I know. It's a filler really. But trust me, I'm desperately trying to wrap up the Kirkwall section of this story. Never expected it to last this long. Lol. If all goes according to plan there should only be three more chapters in Kirkwall before we move on to the actual story… (What I am now dubbing as Part 2). Thanks for your patience guys