I own nothing of Dragon Age. Just Amilee.

For those of you who have been reading since I first began posting this, Saytie is being replaced by Herah, as it is the original name for the female Adaar. I've used the original names for Hawke and Cousland, so it seems more fitting I stick to the original for my Inquisitor as well.

For those who read my first fic The Hare Swallowed Whole, you will be pleased to hear I am attempting to pick it up once more. Just give me a bit, rl life has smacked me in the face a bit and I'm trying to recover.

The Exalted Plains were... plain. And it smelled of dead bodies.

Amilee curled her nose at the faint stench as she stomped her way up the winding curve of the small creek that bordered Halin'suhlan.

The others were temporarily set up near the Dalish encampment, taking a break for lunch and turning in some of the goods the clan had most desperately needed in exchange for one of their ranks becoming an agent for their cause.

Earlier that day, she had enlisted The Iron Bull, Cole, and Dorian's help in rounding up a golden halla for the Dalish as well, but The Iron Bull had been uncharacteristically nagging at her for wasting their time.

The last straw had been when he scoffed openly at the halla 'shepherd' for his stammering gratitude.

She'd knocked the qunari into the river with a burst of force and walked away in a huff, completely pissed off by his behavior.

As she rounded another bend in the river, she heard a shout from behind her. "Guardian! Wait up."

Looking back, she saw Krem running to catch up to her.

"I'm not in the mood for company right now," Amilee grumbled to the warrior.

"Sorry bout the chief back there." He gestured with a thumb pointing behind him. "He's pretty persistent when he wants to be."

Her response was miffed. "I have no idea why. It's not like we were doing anything unreasonable."

"Well, actually..." Krem began, averting his eyes as he continued. "He was trying to get you to run off."

At this her brow rose incredulously, "What the hell for?"

A nervous smile formed at the corner of the warriors lips as he scratched his head. "He was giving me an opportunity to catch you alone."

Her heart dropped when the words sank in. "Uh..."

"I know we haven't spoken much. You're pretty busy, being the Guardian and all. But I've... you know, been interested in getting to know you more."

Her stunned silence gave the man pause. "I'm not overstepping, am I?"

Quickly, Amilee brought up her hands and shook her head. "No no, I understand it's just... It's complicated."

"How so?"

With a great sigh and a hand to her forehead, she explained, "It's not that I wouldn't be interested. And just to put your mind at ease it has nothing to do with your being trans-gender."

"Being what?"

She blushed despite herself. "You're a man at heart and in mind with the body of a woman. That's what we call trans-gender, back in my world. Same thing if it was reversed."

Krem frowned. "Ah. Was it that obvious?"

"Not to people around here, I'm sure. It's more commonly accepted in my country though, so it's more easily recognized. But that's not the issue in this case. The fact is... I... My heart belongs to someone else."

The warrior grimaced. "It's not the commander, is it?"

"No," she laughed abruptly, then cleared her throat when she realized it sounded rude. "It's someone else. Someone who doesn't know, can't know. And I can't say who it is for their protection. I wouldn't want things to get complicated from them finding out. Just trust me when I say, while I am more than happy to have this become a close friendship at best, it would be unkind to give you false hope for anything more."

"I see.." Krem replied softly, shoulders slumping slightly.

There was a long pause, as the sound of rushing water and the breeze through the trees filled the space between.

"Ugh, this is so complicating," Amilee groaned. "The Iron Bull's gonna hound me with questions."

Krem chuckled. "Yeah, he will..." His eyes brighten with a thought. "Unless we make him think otherwise."

"Huh?"

"You're pretty sure nothing's gonna come of this right? Well, whose to say something like this won't happen again. Another heart to break and all."

"Krem," she started, throat tightening with remorse.

"Ah, don't worry about it. But the next guy might not be so accommodating. So how's about this. To save face for me and prevent others from approaching you, we let them think what they want."

Perturbed at the idea, she concluded, "As in, a fake relationship."

"Yeah, well no. We'd simply spend time together and let the others gossip. Not to be blunt but you seem a pretty private person. If we act like we're together, it'll make everyone else think twice before approaching you. At least until whoever you like gets their butt in gear. And who knows, maybe one day I'll change your mind."

"Krem," she warned.

"Hey, don't get all defensive on me. It'll be my fault if I get hurt from here on out. But someone's gotta have your back with this, right? Unless you want more suitors looking to break down your door. So what do you say?"

For a minute she pondered the idea. The likelihood of anyone discovering she was in love with Cole was slim to none, so long as she kept her distance. But if the others found out about her true attachment, she would face their wrath, assuming that she was cheating. When she voiced as much to the man before her, however, he waved her off. "If it comes down to that, I'll vouch for you."

"Then fine, I guess. But don't go spreading lies like you took me on the war table or something," she cautioned. "Or you're gonna get a backhand."

At this the former Tevinter soldier laughed, "I can work with that. Why don't we fish out some grub before we head back. Let the tongues start wagging." Speaking of wagging, his brows danced on his forehead.

Snickering, she finally smiled at him. "Let see who can catch the most, yeah?"

"That-a-girl."

Two weeks later- Western Approach

Amilee groaned as she flopped down on the makeshift cot in her tent at the Griffon Wing Keep.

About a week prior, they had made it to this godforsaken desert and by the first day she was already sick of it. Not only was the desert unaccommodating to her dark clothing, with sand so far up her crack she could shit glass, she also had to pretend she didn't know where she'd been going the entire time.

Three days in, Dorian had almost called her out on her bullshit when she suggested they detour away from a patch of desert where she distinctly remembered having run into wyverns. But she played it off as a gut feeling that it simply wasn't the direction they needed to go and the scrutiny of his gaze faltered and he let the matter be.

She was having a hard enough time dealing with the Venatori they were encountering in the area. Those under the influence of red lyrium were a bit more difficult for her to fight, the song from the living mineral effecting her jut as badly as the others, if not more so. And somehow, they knew it. She always seemed to be their main target, calling out to each other to focus solely on either her demise or capture.

Thankfully, Krem had decided to attach himself to her hip when in battle, keeping his shield between her and the bulk of the Venatroi.

They ended up a little late to the main event and were debriefed by Herah about what had gone down at some ancient ritual tower with this new 'douche bag and the box it came in' named Erimond. Suffice it to say, the lot of them were appalled. None more so than her brother.

Grey Wardens were murdering each other for sacrifice in a ritual to bind demons and in turn,coming under the control of Corypheus.

Amilee couldn't fathom how someone could just take over your mind and dance you around like a puppet on strings, but as it was described, that's exactly what was happening. And that meant the Wardens were just as much a danger as the Venatori themselves.

The Inner Circle converged to take down those few left holed up at the Griffon Wing Keep and they claimed it for themselves.

Which brought this all to the present day.

Amilee's group stayed behind to relinquish run of the Keep to the reinforcements on their way from Skyhold. While the idea of a weeks vacation was nice, having it in the midst of this veritable wasteland was far from comforting.

Dorian constantly complained about the sand getting everywhere while Varric grumbled about missing his manuscripts and Bianca drying out. Cassandra was blessedly stoic and The Iron Bull and the Chargers were sated as long as the ale they'd brought up from the well stocked cellars kept flowing. But Cole seemed... despondent.

Rightfully so though as, without her in his memory, she'd imagine he couldn't recollect anything happy about having been out here. Just this morning she'd spied him crouched down to look out from the battlements high above, the air about him muted beyond a slight breeze billowing his hair, hat-less for once. She'd jumped up with her force to reach the walkway just behind him and sat down next to him. She remained quiet, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to speak.

After a time he sighed wearily. "I don't like it here," he whispered fiercely.

"I-" she couldn't say she knew, because if she did, he would wonder how. "I don't either, hun."

"All I remember was fear, when I was here before. Fear and fevered whispers, tainted songs from darkspawn and undead. Nothing should live here. Too much, too big, and too empty."

She leaned forward on her hands to get a better view of his face as he recapped himself. "Hun, you could have gone with Herah if you wanted. I wouldn't keep you somewhere that makes you this uncomfortable."

"I like to be near you, help make sure you stay safe. You're my friend, like Solas is my friend. Like Varric. And the warmth makes it all... less?" He brought his knees up to wrap his arms around as he continued, "Words bounce off the edges. I just don't know to say it right."

"It doesn't matter to me how you say it, hun. I like to know what you're thinking."

"But I can't hear you." He seemed disgruntled having to say it, as though he were admitting a weakness. "I can't tell if what I say is the right thing to say, if it might make you happy, sad, or angry. You're the only person that I've met that is like this. It makes me want to know more about you than anyone else." He paused. "Why are you like you? Why do you look at me without seeing what everyone else sees?"

That was easy. "Because I was treated the same way, when I first came here. I was an oddity, couldn't speak like everyone else, had strange habits and even stranger ways of thinking. The more I learned here, the easier it was to adapt, to blend my way of thinking, of speaking like they do. It's not so hard, once you find friends. People who are not only willing to accept you for you, but also to help you succeed with things you couldn't otherwise. I'm more than happy to be that for you."

He picked at his shirt sleeve absently. "I never needed anybody before. I simply was. Flitting, flying, fluttering free, without need, or want, or thought on where I was going. There was no before, no after. Everything that ever was and would or could be, was. But here time is straight, trudging forward with solid forms and rigid rules. I stumble, even when I know what needs to be said. Sometimes I wish I could go back."

The ache in her chest grew sharp, but she squelched it. Her feelings didn't matter in this. "Would you, if you had the chance?"

"I don't know," he murmured, head obscured once more.

After a minute, she explained her perspective. "When I first got here, I felt the same as you. All I wanted was to go home to my family, go back to school. I missed the technology, the food, the music... I even missed basic hygiene, like toilet paper." She chuckled at the last part. "But as time wore on, the less likely it seemed I would be able to go back. Not only because I don't know how, but because of how much I've changed. I'm here now, and I play a big part in what happens to this world. I have people who care for me too so it's not just me making it by, I'm thriving."

"What if you could forget?" he queried. "Would you go then?"

She smiled wistfully, pulling his hat off and placing it on her lap, forcing him to concentrate his gaze on her. "You're only you now because of what you have been through, all you've experienced. If you went back you would have to wash clean, forget everything, right?"

"Yes," was his tentative prompt.

"Then would you really be you anymore? The you you are now?"

His eyes widened in revelation and he looked away. The response was shaky, "I-No. I wouldn't."

She put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly which brought his fearful eyes back to hers. "I'm not saying you shouldn't go if you really wanted to. If nothing here makes you want to stay then you should, by all means, do what makes you happy."

For a moment it was almost as though he couldn't speak, barely breathing as he stared back at her, his expression unreadable.

"Just... know this," she continued tenderly, plopping his hat back on his head and adjusting it accordingly. "You can't make me forget. I will always remember you and I will cherish your memory for as long as I live. Alright?"

While he never gave her a reply she felt a strange confidence that he didn't need to. She left him alone then, to contemplate further, and returned to the others.

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