A/N: I am (slightly) rewriting the final battle and the scenes before it for dramatic purposes. I know I keep promising it's nearly over — it really is only a few more chapters now! I'm publishing as fast as I write, so do give each chapter some love as you go through.

Killeen drifted slowly up out of the slow rolling surf of sleep.

She was used to waking instantly, to an alarm, a muster bell, or the slight change in Cullen's breathing that told her he was no longer sleeping peacefully, but weariness lay over her like a shroud, weighing her down.

Beneath her was a hard, cold surface, contrasting with the soft, warm weight across her and the solid presence cushioning her head. Killeen couldn't make sense of any of it, couldn't summon up the energy to try.

"Everyone says so," a small, piping voice said.

"Everyone?" That was Cullen, and he sounded faintly amused.

"Ser Dorian also said," Fel told him, for Killeen recognised the thin little voice now as Felandris, "that if you took much longer about it, he'd start to think he had a chance with you."

Killeen fought her way through the last veils of sleep. The cold surface beneath her was a stone bench; the warmth that covered her a cloak, its fur trimming tickling her cheek; her head rested on someone's leg.

Cullen's leg, she realised as he spoke again. "Perhaps Ser Dorian should mind his own business."

Killeen opened her eyes, and lifted herself on her elbow. The bench she lay on was the one by the chapel doors, over-looking the garden; the cloak covering her was Cullen's appalling mutli-coloured bearskin. The early morning light lay soft and luminescent across the garden, although it had not yet reached the chill shadows of the walkway.

"Good morning!" Fel said brightly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Ungh," Killeen managed, as Cullen put his hand beneath her elbow and helped her sit up. She coughed, and tried again: "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I tried," Cullen said with a slight smile. "You told me to —" he glanced at Fel. "You expressed yourself vigorously, and went back to sleep."

"I don't remember that," Killeen said. She scrubbed her hands over her face, grimaced. "I think something crawled into my mouth and died."

Cullen glanced down and brushed at his breeches. "Perhaps I should have mentioned, you threw up on my leg in between the cursing and the sleeping. Which is when I realised you weren't just napping on duty. Didn't you think to mention to anyone you'd taken a blow to the head?"

Killeen thought back. Disjointed images of battle, only a vague recollection of the ride, a flash of unsaddling Firefly: of Cullen's voice, speaking to someone else. Speaking to the Inquisitor. Whatever happens, you will come back. "I don't remember," she said again.

"Fortunately, the Inquisitor was here," Cullen said. "She said you'll be fine, with rest. Can you face breakfast?"

"I think so," Killeen said. She essayed to stand, and Cullen rose as well, steadying her. "What did I miss?"

"The Inquisitor has a plan," Cullen said, hand warm and strong beneath her elbow. "Or, Morrigan does. They found an Elven ruin that Morrigan believes holds the key to defeating Corypheus."

"Defeating him?" Killeen stared at him. "Didn't they see him —" She remembered Fel. No need for her to know, before she has to. "You were there, Cullen. Did you tell her?"

"She saw," Cullen said. "She's still certain there's a chance. They're in the war-room now."

Killeen frowned. "Shouldn't you be there?"

"The military commander's not much use without the military," Cullen said wryly. "The majority of the army is still making its way back from the Arbor Wilds, and the troops that are here are hardly in shape for battle."

"So we're —" Killeen glanced at Fel. "Fel, we need a tally of the herb garden's yield. There will be injured soldiers coming in with the army."

"In a minute!" Fel said, staring at Cullen so hard she was almost cross-eyed.

"Now," Killeen said.

"But —"

"Go on," Cullen said, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

Fel narrowed her eyes at him. "You'd better tell me," she said. "I promised Varric, and he's keeping the book."

Cullen winced slightly. "I promise. Go on."

With a final glare, Fel turned and flounced off to the pots of herbs, pulling her slate from her belt.

"Book?" Killeen said, feeling as if she'd missed something.

Cullen blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. "It doesn't matter. What where you going to say?"

"I —" The thought skittered away like a minnow chased through shallow water. Killeen concentrated, pinned it down. "We're helpless."

"We're in better shape than Corypheus," Cullen said. "His army is destroyed, his allies have abandoned him. Samson is in the cells awaiting judgement. We've foiled his every aim."

"Cullen," Killeen said. "He can't die. Whatever we do just buys time."

"The Inquisitor says he can be killed," Cullen said. "At least, by her." He took her hands. "We'll be ready for him, Kill. Haven — will not happen again."

"If the Inquisitor is the one who can kill Corypheus," Killeen said, "we'd better make damn sure it doesn't. No more running off to sacrifice herself for the rest of us. We'd better make damn sure we get her in front of him and keep whatever forces Corypheus still has off her back."

"We will," Cullen said. "And then —" He paused, looked down at their linked hands. "When this war started, I — well, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now."

Killeen swallowed past the sudden, painful lump in her throat. Of course. Of course he is thinking of a future past all this, a future with her, the wedding everyone is gossipping about, no doubt some adorable blond-haired mage babies to follow … She couldn't bring herself to speak, but nodded.

"I find myself wondering," Cullen said, "what will happen after." Even the thought of the Inquisitor lit his face with happiness. "When this is over, I won't want to move on."

It took a breath, then a second, before Killeen could speak with reasonable composure. "I understand."

"Do you?" Cullen asked softly. "Because —"

And the sky turned green.

Killeen's first thought was to thank the Maker for stopping Cullen there. She didn't think she could have endured hearing him explain that moment on the walls as a fleeting error of judgement, a never-to-be-repeated mistake.

Her second was So much for being ready.

Cullen dropped her hands, staring upwards. "I —"

Killeen nodded. "Go. I'll sound the alarm."

As Cullen turned and ran toward the door that would take him to the War Room, Killeen took four long strides into the garden and seized Fel's shoulder, making the final 't' in the girl's careful 'elfroot' skid sideways and down. "Fel, honey, run to your mother. Right now."

The girl took one look at Killeen's face, took a look at the sky, nodded, and ran.

Killeen watched her go, skinny legs pumping, little fists still clutching slate and chalk.

Something she had no name for tore in her chest.

Then she turned and ran herself, pausing long enough in the upper courtyard to order Arms, to arms and then plunging down the second staircase and setting out for the stables at a sprint.

Master Dennet and his stable-boys had seen the sky as well. The stables were boiling with activity, the Inquisitor's charger being led out, saddles and tack being hauled out and fitted to horses.

I can't do this on an empty stomach, Killeen thought with calm practicality. She jogged up the stairs to the kitchen and commandeered several rolls, trotted back and ate them as the stable-hands finished their work and her own squad — or what's left of it still able to back a horse— came pelting up in response to the alarm bell.

She took Firefly's reins from Master Dennet as her squad sorted themselves out, matching trooper to horse. Come on, come on , she willed them. No time, no time. Come on!

"Kill," Cullen said softly behind her.

She knew everything he was going to say in that moment. Can you do what I do? Cole had asked her once, on the snowy march from ruined Haven. Hear people thinking?

Only Cullen.

Only and always, Cullen.

"Yeah," she said, turning.

He was pale, face set. "It's Haven. There's no way the rest of the army can —"

The squad would be held back to the pace of the slowest. They couldn't possibly keep up with the Inquisitor and her companions in a hard, forced ride. But we can follow. We can keep whatever Corypheus has waiting off her back. "Yeah."

"Kill. She has to —"

"Yeah." Killeen turned away from him and leaned her head against Firefly's mane, closed her eyes. Hold the objective. Die, if necessary — live if you can, but die if you must. Hold the objective. "I'll keep them off her. The rest will have to be up to her."

"Kill —"

"No," Killeen said sharply. Don't you do that. Don't you dare tell me to be careful, or to come back. Don't you dare put those thoughts in my head.

She stepped back, raised a foot for the stirrup, and then Cullen was kneeling beside the horse, hands linked, ready to do her a squire's duty.

Killeen looked down at his bowed head, hair tarnished by the sky's sickly green glow, at the long line of his neck and the strength of his shoulders.

Then she stepped into his cupped hands, and he threw her up onto Firefly's back.

Killeen turned the mare in a tight circle under the gates, headed her towards the open road, and set her heels in hard. Her squad following, they thundered across the bridge and onto the road to Haven.

She didn't look back.