A/N: I wasn't happy with the pace of this chapter, so I changed it once, twice, forever. I hope you like it.

To my reviewers: thank you for commenting! And no, I will not kill her off - we've got so much more digging to do.

Chapter 5: Adamant

There was no time to think. There was no time because the Inquisitor wanted to capture Adamant. There was no time because Cullen had to arrange his troops, evaluate tactics; help the Inquisitor find the best way to enter the fortress.

It was a lie, as so many he told himself lately. He did not want to think about it. His dreams, however, could not be persuaded to let it go. She had played no part there, in his secret cell, but now, she did. Now, her face haunted him as well, changing from the nasty one of the desire demon to hers, changing from him fucking her to him draining the life out of her.

The withdrawal always seemed to find his weakest spot and shattered it. And it was worse than before, maybe because he had actually almost killed her.

He would have killed her, if it hadn't been for Varric. The dwarf, as annoying as he could be, had surprisingly shown up the day after the incident, his voice filled with sympathy, encouraging him to talk to someone, not to him, but to someone, before he fell a victim to madness.

Cullen had not. Could not. Wondered if it wasn't too late already. But while he had awaited Cassandra to storm in and tear him apart for his actions, that visit had never happened. The woman had not told anyone and he did not understand why.

Then again, he understood nothing about her. Why had she let him have her, back then? Why had she let him have her, at Skyhold? Why had she offered to help him?

It did not fit to her hatred for templars and Cullen wasn't dumb enough to believe his looks alone did the trick. Neither did he believe she had any greater feelings for him – how could she, without knowing him? With knowing only the man he had been before, the worst version of himself?

He tried to find the courage to talk to her. To set things right, if possible. But he didn't, because only the truth would have been an adequate explanation. But he had never told anyone about the Circle, about Kirkwall, about anything really that had changed the course of his life. He was ashamed of it. He had let a desire demon into his head, he had done things with that foul creature and his pride and honour had broken to a point where they couldn't be fixed. And then, he had behaved like a fool, trusting in Meredith, when the woman had already lost all her senses.

Oh sure, he kept up his appearance, as he always had, but that only impressed the people around him. He himself, he did not know what to do anymore. How to fight these demons off, how to keep the withdrawal at bay. Therefore, he did what he did best – busy himself with work, ignoring all the alarm signals.

Ava Miller and the other mages formed a row at Skyhold's courtyard at early dawn. The sun had just risen, its beams still too weak to warm her up. Truth to be told, she was always cold. Susannah said she simply lacked meat on her bones, but these days, Ava was glad no one asked why she was wearing an oversize scarf around her neck.

His fingerprints were still visible on her throat, though the colour had started to fade from nasty bright blue to a darker, less intense shade.

If it hadn't been for the dwarf, she was sure he would have killed her. She didn't understand why, though. The spell she had cast did nothing but ease his pain and he must have known that, since it had reached him before he had thrown her onto the floor. Still, his eyes had been so filled with rage that she doubted he had even realized it.

She shook her head, casting the thoughts aside. This was not the time to dwell on her near death experience. Not with the foreshadow of a gruesome fight.

"Brothers, sisters. The Inquisition has ordered us to help capturing Adamant, the fortress where the corrupted Grey Wardens are currently hiding. I will be honest with you, as I have always been: the chances of our victory are critical and we cannot hope for all of us to come back. Nevertheless, if we don't participate, if the Inquisition fails, I have no doubt that Corypheus will drag us all into the Abyss," Fiona said. "Therefore, I ask you to join this cause, to support the Inquisition as you have done before, to secure our freedom, to save our lives."

Some of the mages applauded. Susannah, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

"I knew we should have run," she whispered. "This is a death trap."

"Why do you worry?" Ava whispered back. "Your ice spells are the most powerful I have ever seen."

"Well, if you stay next to me and use your protection spells, I guess we both will be fine," her friend replied with a grin.

Ava did not believe that, though. The thought of their role at Adamant, the thought of being sent to war once again, frightened her to the bone. Fighting always had, no matter if it had been in the Harrowing, or with the rebel mages.

She knew some people felt excitement before a battle, a rush of adrenaline that made them fiercer, stronger, but she had never experienced that feeling. To her, fighting was nothing but cruelty.

It was raining as they arrived at Adamant. The last briefing was held at dawn and as it was over, Ava was wet from head to toe, cold creeping through her clothes, her fingers white and almost numb. She didn't have much time to worry about that, though, because the trebuchets blasted the gates of the fortress to dust and all hell broke loose.

Within seconds, she lost sight of Susannah, finding herself in the middle of Inquisition soldiers, demons and wardens.

The soldier to her left was hit by an arrow in the eye and he fell – life and soul lost. There was no way of reviving him. She cast a protection spell around her and the few soldiers in her reach and tried to make out a safe spot, where she could oversee the fighting and help those in need. But the chaos provided none.

The rain had started to increase, shadowing her vision, covering them in mud until separating foe and friend became a bloody mess. She moved forward with the forces, looking out for her friend, but the battlemages had already pressed further and there was no way for her through the enemies to catch up.

Another horde of enemies stormed out of a nearby gate and soldier after soldier fell victim to their vicious assault. She could almost feel how their courage was erased, she could see the soldiers back up in despair, until suddenly, a too familiar voice shouted:

"Soldiers, stand your ground!"

She turned her head into the direction of that voice and even though her throat still hurt, even though her sleep had been interrupted by visions of him strangling her to death, the sight of the commander evoked a feeling of relief.

The soldiers seemed to feel the same, for as he joined them in the fight, they appeared to find new strength, new hope. Yet, their foes were unrelenting; knowing neither fear nor despair.

Her eyes focused on the commander, she realized one of the wardens tried to take him down from behind and without further thinking, she cast a barrier around him. It sprung up around him with a blue light and gave him the time to turn and charge, kill the attacker with a mighty blow. As he turned his head into her direction, something beneath her exploded and swept her off her feet.

For a few seconds, there was only darkness and silence. Then, a heavy pain in her chest set her body in flames and she tried to make out the source through the dust, while a nasty noise rang in her ears.

As the smoke started to vanish, she could see she was bleeding, a splinter of whatever caused the explosion stuck in her chest. She tried to pull it out, but her fingers were slick with cold sweat and slipped off, no matter how hard she tried.

Suddenly, another pair of fingers wrapped around the edge of the splinter and tore it out without further ado.

She cried out in pain, crumpling her body together in a foetal position, a few tears running down her dirty face.

"You have to get up!" a familiar voice said.

She shook her head violently, wishing he would just go away, wishing he would leave her there on the ground until the pain would win her over, drag her into sweet darkness. But of course he had no mercy for her.

"I said: get up!" he snarled, his hands moving under her shoulders, pulling her to her feet.

She stumbled and would have fallen, if he hadn't supported her.

"Damn it, you're a healer! Heal yourself before you bleed to death!"

She looked at his grim face, at his body supporting hers, remembering what happened the last time she had cast a spell in his reach. But his stern gaze and firm grip left her no choice and with the last bit of her strength left, she cast the spell.

It surrounded them both with a flash of white and she could feel his grip at her tighten, but he did not move his hands to her throat, or raise his sword against her. The spell was weak, as weak as she was, but it stopped the blood from running and eased the pain, if only a little.

She freed herself out of his grip and made a few step backwards.

"Get back to the camp!" he said, narrowing his eyes. "And stay alive!"

With those words spoken, he turned around and dived back into the fight, while she fell back, body and mind completely numb

Somehow, she managed to arrive back outside the fortress. A green light blasted through the sky and the sound of fighting still echoed through the air, but Ava did not care. Could not care. A few metres before the camp, her body finally surrendered to the pain and she fell down into darkness.

They carried her back to Skyhold. They carried her back and tried to heal her completely, but the scar would not vanish and the only one who was powerful enough to manage that was the First Enchanter, but she did not ask her and the scar remained, a nasty red line between her breasts.

Ava did not care. Ava did not care about anything, to be exact. It was as if some part of her had not returned from Adamant. Susannah told her it was probably just shock, but Ava did not know if she was right. The brutality of it all had left her feeling empty and she stayed hidden in her quarters, until even her friend did not know what to do.

There was nothing she wanted but to sleep and forget. She knew that, eventually, she would have to get up and play her little part, but she could not find the willpower to do so. She also knew that if this wouldn't pass, they would probably send her away, but even that didn't do the trick.

Whilst before, the most frightening prospect had been to be kicked out of the Inquisition with no place to go and nothing to do, it now felt as if nothing mattered.

She suspected it was her very own fault, because before, she had always run away when things got bad; she had run away from her family to the circle, she had run away from the circle to a group of apostates and then she had run away from them to the rebel mages. Standing ground had never been her virtue and now it seemed to become her greatest flaw.

Adamant had been a success, but they had paid a high price for it. Cullen stared at the list of dead soldiers and shook his head in discomfort. If the Inquisition's soldiers continued to die like flies, they would need to look for another alliance.

He sighed and looked outside the window. Night had already fallen over Skyhold and he knew he should try to get some rest, if only it were possible.

The night after Adamant, the nightmares had given him a break, probably due to his exhaustion, but it hadn't lasted. Sleep was still an enemy to him.

He stepped outside of his office and walked over to the battlement, his mind still thinking about their losses, as he spotted a figure standing there.

It took him only seconds to realize it was her and he stopped in his movements, unsure whether to proceed, or return to his tower.

She made the decision for him, as she turned and looked at him.

"Commander," she said.

He made a few steps forward, yet kept a reasonable distance between them.

"You survived," he said, even though he had already known that, even though it was obvious.

"Yes."

"About what I did..." he started, but she cut him off immediately.

"It matters not," she said.

He looked at her, surprised. "I don't understand..."

"I don't, either," she said and stepped away from the wall. "I just... I don't care anymore. I was mad at you, but now I don't feel anything. I thought I was just exhausted, but it isn't... There is just nothing," she said and looked at him. "Is this normal?"

"You're probably in shock," he replied.

"Yes. That's what Susannah said, as well." She looked at the black sky above them and slowly shook her head. "Did you ever feel like that?" she asked.

"What?"

"I mean, you've been fighting battles your whole life. Did you ever feel... like that?"

Cullen didn't know what to say. If he even wanted to say something. But her distance appeared so cold, so desperate, so wrong, that finally, he did.

"Once."

"How did you get over it?"

He looked at her and wondered if she really believed he had gotten over it. Wondered what exactly she believed had made him choke her.

"I don't know," he said.

She nodded her head. "Well, I guess there is no easy solution then, is there?"

And with those words, she lowered her gaze and attempted to pass him, but before she could and before he knew what he was doing, he took her arm.

"Ava," he said.

She stopped and he loosened his grip a little.

"If there is anything..." he said.

She looked up at him and for a fraction of a second, her expression was nothing but despair.

"Take me," she said.

"What?" he asked, but she had already stepped forward, pressing her lips at his, moving her body close to his.

He knew he shouldn't, but even though her eyes were blank, her body spoke to his with the same urgency he had craved from her before. So, he replied to her kiss, his hands moving to her hips, pulling her even closer.

As she broke the kiss, he muttered into her ear. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."

She shook her head, running her fingers down to his breeches, but he caught them there.

"Not here," he said and guided her down the stairs, back into his office.

Her hands still at his hips, he pushed her against his desk and wiped everything off it, a bottle he had forgotten about smashing on the ground. The sound appeared to startle her, but he didn't give a damn about it. With a swift motion, he lifted her up onto the desk and opened the buttons of her coat, taking it off, taking her shirt off.

The nasty scar between her chest stopped him for a second and she looked at him, her eyes still distant.

"I know it's bad," she said, but he shook his head.

He didn't care about her scars. He didn't care about anything, truly, with her body wrapped around him.

"No," he replied and placed his lip at her chest, trailing down right next to the angry redness, sucking at her nipples.

Her fingers were back at his breeches, but this time, he didn't stop her. One of her hand wrapped around him, stroking him while he pulled her pants down and slid a finger into her panties, rubbing her while his lips found hers again.

"Please," she finally let out and he complied immediately, tearing her panties down and pushing inside her swiftly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he started to fuck her eagerly. She was wet, but silent. Too silent for his taste, too silent for his memory.

He pushed her body down completely onto the table and lifted her legs onto his shoulders for a better angle, then pulled out of her completely, before pushing back in with a hard, slow thrust.

She gasped in surprise and he took it as encouragement, continuing to move slowly and steady. Finally, a moan escaped her lips and he increased his speed as he felt her rocking her body with him.

Her moans turned into breathless gasps and his own heart beat hard against his chest as his desire washed him over, forced him to take her harder and harder until she cried out loudly and his own climax ripped through him.

He let her legs down and moved his body above her, holding her still.

She leant forward slightly and kissed him once more, something she hadn't done before, but it felt surprisingly comforting and he found himself running his fingers through her damp hair. This was a tenderness that hadn't existed before. A tenderness he had never thought he wanted from her, but now felt so good he could do nothing but indulge in it.

For a second, he wished they would have begun it like this. For a second, he wished he would have taken the time to study her body, caress her everywhere before taking her slowly, like it was supposed to be.

But she eventually freed herself from his embrace, getting off the desk, looking for her clothes. He pulled his pants back up and looked at her.

"Did that... help?" he asked.

She looked at him. "I... I don't know. I think it did. At least, a little."

He nodded his head and picked up her shirt from his desk, holding it out to her.

"I think the First Enchanter would be able to help with that," he said, pointing at the scar.

"Probably. But she scares the shit out of me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem easy to scare to me."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're kidding, right? You scared the shit out of me, too, back in that town."

"It didn't seem like it."

"Why do you think I let you have me? I was negotiating. My body for my life."

He stared at and suddenly, everything felt wrong. Seeing her naked, thinking about what they had just done... It lost its appeal in a fraction of a second.

He turned around and walked towards the door leading to his quarter. "I suppose you know how to get out," he said, then pushed the door open and shut it loudly behind him.

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