a/n: I have this thing where if I'm writing about events that happen in the game, I… don't. Write about the specific events, that is. Because if you played the game, you know exactly what happened and I don't want to bore you with recounting details. So forgive the brevity in the last scene in this chapter. After all, this story is about Hawke, not how many dialogue options the Inquisitor can possibly go through with Stroud.

s e v. e n

For You are the fire at the heart of the world
And comfort is only Yours to give.
Transfigurations 12:6

Every morning that she found herself in Skyhold, Hawke would appear in the kitchens just before the sun rose to brew her mint tea. It took a few mornings before the kitchen staff came to expect her; they found it a little strange for the Champion of Kirkwall to be in the kitchen with the servants. But she was oddly cheerful first thing in the morning, and even the head cook stopped complaining after the fourth morning. She would joke with them while the water boiled, and tell short stories that sounded outlandish and impossible about her adventures in Kirkwall. She would recommend various dishes to prepare for upcoming meals, and even though the cook would tell her that they already had meals planned, he would make small notes about her suggestions after she had left. She would greet them first thing with a grin, and bid them good day with a happy little wave, carrying two mugs of tea out with her.

"Good morning!" Varric was having a harder time adjusting to her tea habits, however. She still managed to surprise him every single morning, wrenching him out of sleep in a not wholly unpleasant manner. The initial annoyance at a sudden awakening usually dissipated quickly upon seeing her smile and smelling the mint. "I heard Alice say she was finally going to be heading to Crestwood today."

Varric struggled to sit up, accepting the familiar mug. He had stayed up a little too late last night, writing a few letters, but Hawke was unforgiving in her morning routine, apparently. "Yeah?" he mumbled, lifting the mug to his lips.

"I would say something like, 'it's about time', but I know she's been busy," Hawke continued. "I saw Stroud briefly last week; he's still managing to stay hidden, but the sooner we make it out there, the better. Are you going to be joining her?"

"Hm?" Varric looked up at Hawke; he had been staring into his tea while she talked. "Oh, um. Really depends how she's planning on going about things," he said. "But I wouldn't complain about getting out of Skyhold for a while."

"I can imagine," she agreed. "Well. I'm going to get a head start this morning, then. I need to make a stop along the way. Take care, love; I'll see you later, one way or another." She leaned over and planted her usual kiss on his forehead. "Enjoy your tea."

And she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. Varric sat in his bed for a while, holding the mug in both hands, staring into it. He had never been too much of a morning person, but then again, neither had Hawke. He wondered what had caused that change in her. Was it the months of travelling? Or had her sleep habits deteriorated when she had returned to Kirkwall alone? Whatever the case was, the shadows beneath her eyes had failed to improve in the past couple weeks. She still wasn't sleeping well, he was willing to bet. Perhaps she wasn't sleeping at all. That was a worrying notion.

He could only hope that being in the presence of old friends and new would help her regain a sense of balance in her life.


"Good morning, Commander," Hawke's singsong voice drifted across Cullen's mind. He felt her lips on his cheek, and blinked himself awake. Hawke was smiling at him, perched on the edge of his bed, fully dressed in her armor with her pack at her feet. "Out of everyone, I've always thought you'd be the first one up at sunrise."

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "That is usually the case, but I seem to recall someone keeping me up rather late last night."

"Oh my," Hawke said, sounding playfully affronted. "Well, that person clearly needs to be talked to. The Inquisition's Commander needs to be in top form. Whoever this person is obviously has little regard for authority; they must be dealt with immediately, lest you continue to be kept up through the night by what I'm sure is a very poor attempt at sabotaging the Inquisition's forces, one man at a time."

Cullen smirked and leaned towards her. "I'll be sure to give whoever it is a very stern talking to," he said before kissing her. He smelled - tasted - something familiar on her. "Is that mint?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, I have a cup of mint tea every morning," she told him. "You can really taste that?"

"I can." He leaned in to kiss her again. "Good thing I like mint." Hawke giggled, reaching up to put a hand on his cheek and touching her nose briefly to his. "So," he said when he broke away, but stayed close, "why do you look like you're leaving?"

"Because I'm …leaving?" she said with a smirk. "Alice - sorry, the Inquisitor - said yesterday that she was planning on leaving for Crestwood this morning, and I was going to get there ahead of her to make sure everything's still in order with Stroud."

"Mm," Cullen hummed in a sort of lazy agreement, closing his eyes and leaning into her hand. "Fair enough. Well, travel safe."

"But of course," Hawke said, kissing him again. "I did spend a handful of years travelling all over Thedas; I think I can handle the trip to Crestwood."

"Will you be back?" he asked her.

"You really think that - after last night - I'm just going to disappear?" Hawke laughed. "Oh, no, Commander, you aren't getting off the hook that easily."

Cullen smiled and kissed her one last time before she stood. "Good. Then take care of yourself, Hawke."

"I will," she assured him, picking up and shouldering her pack. "After all, someone has to." With a smile and a wave, she descended the ladder, and Cullen heard the door below open and close.

He laid back against his pillows again. Staring at the ceiling, he rubbed his mouth. Mint. Where had he smelled mint recently?


The rain was pouring from the sky, pelting the land endlessly, mercilessly. It disturbed the surface of the lake, turning it into a muddy mess. The clouds hung heavy in the sky, ceaseless in their efforts to drown the land below.

Hawke stood outside the cave in which her Warden friend was hiding out. She stared out at the landscape, letting the rain drench her, soaking through all layers of clothing to her very skin. She watched the rain chip away at the landscape as it turned the roads into little more than inch-deep streams of mud; she listened to the lightning striking in the distance, crackling through the air; she felt goosebumps on her skin as she became thoroughly sodden.

There was a certain calmness to the chaos around her. Nature was rebelling against unknown forces - though, if she had to guess, it was the green glow and fog out in the lake - and was doing its best to make the day as miserable as possible for anyone out travelling in this weather. But Hawke liked it. The discomfort from her sopping garments, the noise of the rain and wind, and the very gloomy state of everything around her was exactly enough to keep her mind from focusing. And when her mind couldn't focus, she felt serene. The further apart her recollections about her past were, the larger the spaces between grew, the easier it was to forget about the constant throbbing pain in her heart.

Lightning struck too close, and she jumped. Then she laughed, though it was lost in the noise of the storm. When she looked up the road again, she saw a small group battling their way through the gale. It was, indeed, the Inquisitor.

"Glad you made it," Hawke greeted them when they approached. "I just got here myself. My contact with the Wardens should be at the back of the cave." With a smile and inviting gesticulation, she said, "Shall we?"

Alice - accompanied by Varric and two other companions that Hawke had yet to meet, an uptight looking woman who gave her little more than a passing glance and a young man with a wide brimmed hat that hid his face - seemed grateful to be out of the rain. Hawke followed them into the cave, and Varric fell back in step with her. "Been waiting long?" he asked.

"No more than an hour or so," she said with a shrug.

"And you stood in the rain for an hour?" Varric looked up at her with an expression somewhere between judgemental and concerned.

She laughed. "Of course not. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Well…"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," she cut him off; Varric chuckled.

They found Stroud in the cave, as Hawke said. Alice questioned him about the Wardens, and Hawke listened carefully. Stroud had told her very little about what the actual cause of concern was; all he had told her was that he had left Adamant when the Warden-Commander started taking steps that led down a dangerous path. So when Stroud said that the Orlesian Wardens were currently all hearing the Calling, Hawke couldn't help but cut in.

"The Calling?" she repeated. "You never mentioned that, Stroud."

He frowned, looking away from her. "It was a Warden matter; I didn't think it necessary to worry you about it until we were able to speak with the Inquisitor."

Hawke mirrored his frown, but stayed quiet when Alice began asking about what, exactly, was the Calling. Every Warden in Orlais was hearing the Calling? While Hawke was relatively certain that Anders was continuing to avoid Orlais - out of some misplaced disgust with the Empire, from what she had gathered, though she admittedly had never bothered to delve too deeply into his precise reasons for disliking Orlais - Hawke couldn't help but wonder if he had wandered too close to the Empire and heard the Calling. Would it affect him like the others? Would he listen to the whispers, to the nightmares, to the noise in his mind and travel to the Deep Roads to face his end? Would Justice let him? Stroud hadn't wanted to worry her. Ha! Well, she was more worried than ever.

"They're gathering in the Western Approach," Stroud told Alice, pointing to his map. "At an ancient ruin. I can meet you there."

"Understood," Alice agreed. "Give us a couple weeks or so to scout the area and figure out where the Inquisition can set up in the region. Stay safe, Stroud."

"And you, Inquisitor."

Before she left, Alice approached Hawke. "Will we see you there as well, Hawke?"

"Oh yes," she agreed, forcing a slight smile. "I intend to see this matter through, Inquisitor. In fact, I will likely be back at Skyhold at some point as well. Varric just falls apart without me, don't you?" she asked, glancing at him.

"I think you've got that backwards, Bubbles."

Hawke chuckled. "Well, Inquisitor. Stroud and I will discuss our next moves. Take care around Crestwood; the undead have become more vicious in recent days."

When they left, Hawke was only too quick to round on the Warden. "The Calling?" she burst out. "Andraste, bride of the Maker, Stroud. You should have told me! Corypheus' work or no, the Wardens think they're dying!"

"Hawke-"

"What were you thinking, keeping that from me? I told you how serious this situation is, didn't I? Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" she snapped, jabbing a finger at him threateningly.

"Calm down, Hawke," he told her firmly. "As I said, it was a Warden matter. And yes," he continued, raising his voice slightly when he saw Hawke begin to speak, "I am well aware that you have family and friends in the Wardens. But would you have gained anything from having this knowledge earlier? You have it now."

"I could have-" Hawke frowned. "If I knew, I…"

"There's nothing we can do about it," Stroud said. "Nothing you can do about it, as much as you wish otherwise. If it will help put your mind at ease, before I left, I did what I could to ensure Carver was taken care of. Last I heard, he was in Anderfels, perhaps heading towards Weisshaupt, far from Orlais."

"I'm not worried about Carver," she mumbled, turning away. "The ass knows how to handle himself."

"You're worried about Anders."

Hawke swung around sharply to glare at Stroud. He was frowning slightly at her, but she couldn't tell if it was sympathetic or disapproving. "Of course I am," she said.

"As long as he isn't in Orlais-"

"I know," Hawke interrupted bitterly. "I know, Stroud." She turned away again. "Look. Just… stay out of sight, all right?" she said in a tamer tone. "Don't let the Wardens find you. I'll see you in the Approach." Without waiting for a response, she left.

Back out in the rain, she stood for a moment, waiting for the downpour to wash away her thoughts again. But the turmoil in her mind was too turbulent for something as simple as rain to quiet it. She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, letting the deluge buffet her face. "Anders," she whispered, voice breaking. "Wherever you are, please, don't be dead."