Chapter 18: Trust Earned

Errol was unconscious for most of the trip back to Skyhold. She was carried on a special covered stretcher through the mountains, and rested in a private tent at night, with Solas tending to her for a few hours every evening. Worst of all was Cole, who never left her side, and who actually growled at Cullen every time he checked in on her and when he did talk seemed to be incapable of saying anything except: "You hurt her! Get out!"

Cullen noticed that Solas would always be lurking near the tent after these little confrontations, ostensibly checking on something unrelated, but with the tiniest of smug smiles on his face. The urge to punch him was becoming almost unbearable. Maker help him, he hated that elf.

It wasn't until the day before they reached Skyhold that the word spread like wildfire: the Inquisitor was awake.

Cullen made his way quickly to her tent, ducking inside to see Varric and Blackwall already there. She was sitting up weakly, her hair plastered to her forehead, with Solas and a Healer bending over her, checking various points and offering her potions, which she swallowed without protest.

Cole immediately spotted him and stood. "I told you—"

She put a weak hand on his arm. "It's okay, Cole. He can stay."

"But he—"

"Cole," she said, and he turned his huge eyes on her. "Thank you for defending my honor. I'm fine."

"Indeed you are," Solas said, standing. "Rest is the only thing you need now. Would you care for a sedative, Inquisitor?" His tone was all business, but his eyes were tired and worried. She shook her head and smiled at him.

"No, thank you Solas. I've slept enough." She looked at Varric and Blackwall. "You two okay?"

"Oh us? Just peachy. Going into the Fade was like a nice stroll in the park," Varric said snarkily.

"What he's trying to say is that we're just glad you're okay," Blackwall said, elbowing him.

Varric made a grumbling noise. "Yeah, that."

Cullen couldn't wait any longer. "Inquisitor, might I have a word… alone?"

Now they were all glaring at him. Maker, did everyone know? Blackwall and Varric looked wary, Solas' eyes were narrowed to slits, Cole looked like he wanted to protest again, and Errol looked sad and nervous. Only the Healer seemed oblivious to the tension in the tent.

"Perhaps now is not the best time—" Solas started.

"Of course," Errol said, interrupting him. "I'm sure if the Commander wishes to speak with me than it must be urgent official business." Her voice was cold and tired. "Thank you so much everyone for being there for me, I can't tell you what it means. I'll see you later at Skyhold, hopefully after some food and a bath."

They reluctantly filed out, Cole last, his hat clutched in his hands, his eyes whipping back and forth between them. She made a shooing motion with her hand and his shoulders dropped and he finally vanished.

Cullen pulled a low stool to the side of the cot and sat on it. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly. "Truly?"

"Truly?" she asked. "Like I've been hit by a truck. Oh wait, you don't know what that means. By a… umm, mountain. I'll live." Her voice reverted back to a serious tone. "I know you're eager to hear my side of what happened in the Fade. I'll fill you in with the rest of the advisors back at Skyhold, Commander."

He winced. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. Nor should she. "Errol, when I saw that dragon approaching you, and then the walkway crumbled, and then you vanished into the Fade… I thought you were dead." She had her eyes closed and her face turned away from him. He continued. "I've never been so scared in my life. I've faced demons, abominations, red templars, any number of horrors, but the thought of losing you made me more afraid than I've ever been. I knew I was wrong before that, I was staying away from you because I was trying to fight my way through a lifetime of misheld beliefs, of rigid training, of fear… I was going to tell you what you mean to me and then you… you died, and I died too, in that moment."

Her shoulders were shaking; her eyes were still closed but tears streamed down her face. "Errol…" He reached out and touched her hand, but she jerked it away.

"You made me hate myself," she whispered, and his face paled. "You told me I wasn't human, you looked at me like I was a monster."

"I was wrong," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I've been wrong about so many things in my life. You are human, in your heart, and even if you're not, you're Errol, and that's enough."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm very tired, and I don't know if I can—" She cut off abruptly. "Can we talk about this at Skyhold?"

"Of course," he said. "I—" He held the words on his tongue; it would do no good saying them now. "We will speak again once you're stronger. I just couldn't… I couldn't go another day having you think that I don't care for you. And I'm… I'm sorry."

"Me too," she murmured. He stared at her a moment longer, willing her to say something else, then stood and left the tent.

Errol didn't like being carried as the rest of them rode, but it couldn't be helped. She still felt weak from her ordeal in the Fade. Solas had explained it to her in hushed whispers after she had first awoken.

"You're made of the Fade, yet you weren't created there, as Cole was. You lack a certain... natural resistance in your current state. That part of the Fade was tainted, so it tainted you," he had said as he checked her pupils and pulse.

"What would have happened if I'd stayed?" she'd asked, and he'd looked worried.

"Not turned into a demon, if that's what you're thinking. Merely sickened more, fallen unconscious. Nothing good." He'd hesitated. "The marks protected you. Both of them."

She'd flexed her left hand and touched the left side of her neck with her right; he'd bandaged it carefully, telling everyone she'd wounded it in the fight. "Thank you."

He'd merely nodded and told her to rest.

She sighed, staring at the sun above her as they jostled up the mountain. She hadn't been able to speak with Varric yet. He was putting up a good front but she could see the grief in his eyes, the question. How had Hawke died? She and Alistair had been the only ones to witness it, and she wasn't sure what Alistair was saying. What could she say to him? That she had allowed his friend to sacrifice herself because her life was less important that Alistair's, because Alistair was the last Grey Warden of high rank and if they were going to save the Order they needed him? It was so military, so cold. Hawke was Varric's best friend, and she'd left her there to die in the dark. Errol closed her eyes, the warmth of the sun on her face a mockery. What a world she had fallen into. What a life she now lived.

Errol pulled from her pocket the small bottle Solas had given her, uncorked it, and drained it in one gulp. Her whole body relaxed, and within a few moments, the rocking of the stretcher felt like the waves of the ocean, distant and soft.

She slept, and didn't dream.

When she woke she was back at Skyhold, clean and in her bed, and Varric was sitting next to her.

"Don't worry, you're decent," he said when she looked down with some panic. He was right; she was wearing soft grey long-sleeved pajamas that covered her various bandages and bruises. "Here." He took a tray of food off of the nightstand and put it on her lap, then put a cup of water in her hand. She drank greedily, and shoved a piece of bread and cheese in her mouth. "Woah there, slow down. I can't have the Inquisitor choking on my watch."

She chewed and swallowed. "Has someone been watching me this whole time?"

"Mostly just the Healers," he said, snagging a piece of apple from her plate. "Though Solas and Cullen are here a lot too. Whatever is going on between the three of you is weird, no matter how much you deny it. Lots of dirty looks. Cole was lurking, but he kept scaring the Healers so Cassandra ordered him out. They said you were about to wake up. I offered to bring the food."

"Oh," she said, sitting up a bit more and taking another drink of water. "Thanks."

"It's fine. I wanted to talk to you. About Hawke."

She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "Varric…"

"I need you to promise me you're not going to beat yourself up about it."

She looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Listen, I'm… I'm heartbroken, okay?" he said harshly. "I've spent the last couple'a days writing letters. It's been miserable. And I talked to Alistair, I know what happened… or at least what he said what happened. He could'a been King, you know that? Maybe the world would have been better off if he had been."

He was silent for a moment, then continued. "Hawke was right. Corypheus is our fault. I brought the red lyrium to the surface, and Hawke and I are the ones who broke the barrier the Grey Wardens had built to keep him contained. Hawke wanted to be the one who stayed behind. She… told me as much before she left. She wanted to die fighting him. She couldn't live with the guilt of what happened in Kirkwall, of what's happening now. We broke the world, her and I, and she went down trying to fix it."

"Varric," Errol said softly.

"It's not your fault, Sunshine. You or anyone else's."

She took his hand; it was blocky and square, like the rest of him, the fingers calloused. "It's not your fault either."

He glared at her. "Of course it—"

"Corypheus was already poisoning the minds of those Grey Wardens before you let him out. How much longer could they have stood it? How much longer before someone else came along? He knew about the red lyrium, he has ties to the blight. If you hadn't brought the idol up he would have just gone down to get more. All of this would have happened anyway. Varric, he's the monster. You and Hawke were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He shook his head. "Story of our lives."

"I'm sorry she died. She was a good person."

"She was the best." His voice was thick. He rubbed his nose. "Anyway, I gotta… I gotta go. I just didn't want to think of you lying up here beating yourself up about it. I know how you get."

As he stood and started to walk to the stairs, Errol was seized with a sudden impulse. "Varric." He stopped and turned around. Her hands shook as they gripped the blankets, but she looked him straight in the eye. "I'm a spirit. When I crossed over from my world the Breach ripped my soul from my body and reformed me from the Fade. My real body is unconscious and dying in my world. That's why I can use magic. No one knows. They'd think I was a demon. But after everything, after what you did for Cole, after what happened… you have a right to know."

He stared at her in shock for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning. Then he slowly nodded. "Okay, Sunshine."

"Okay? That's it?"

"I mean, a lot of things make a lot more sense now. But like I said to Cole, a person's a person. You're Errol. Who cares what you're made of."

"Everyone else."

He shrugged. "Fuck 'em. You're the Inquisitor. Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll be fine."

Her shoulders relaxed and her hands released their death grip on the blankets. She smiled, her first real smile in a long time. "Varric. You're probably the best person here, you know that?"

"Only you would say that, Sunshine." He shook his head and kept walking, then paused at the threshold. "Does Cullen know?" She looked away. "Ah. He didn't take it well, I'm guessing?"

"Not at first. He said some… hurtful things. He tried to apologize, but…"

"You should accept that apology."

Her head shot up. "He—"

"Was a templar from the age of what, thirteen, fourteen? Had a lot of bad ideas drilled into his head and did a lot of bad shit. It takes a lot for a person like that to come around and admit he was wrong. You saw his tombstone, right? In the Fade."

"Yeah."

"Being Leashed, it said. He doesn't want that life anymore. It's why he's not taking lyrium." She raised her eyebrows and he nodded. "Oh yeah, I know. I recognize those shakes. I'm a writer who's been around my fair share of templars in my life, I'm perceptive. He's breaking all of his chains. Give him some slack. Besides, everyone from here to Val Royeaux knows you two want to hump like bunnies."

"Varric!"

"I'm just sayin'… if you've got a shot at happiness, you should take it. Life's too short to regret. Believe me, I know."

With that he turned and vanished, so that all Errol could hear was the sound of his boots thumping down the stairs. She popped another piece of bread into her mouth. Her stomach was hollow and starving, but she didn't feel sick anymore, and the easy meal went down and stayed down.

She reached for the water on the dresser and only then noticed the letter sticking out from under the pitcher. Sitting up, she placed the tray next to her on the huge bed and pulled the letter out, careful not to drip any water on it. Her name was written on the front in Cullen's handwriting.

Inside was a single folded piece of parchment that simply read: They can interrogate you later. Come and see me first. Please.

Errol flopped onto the bed and groaned. The butterflies were back. Stupid ex-templar. Stupid emotions. Stupid Varric.

A tiny smile found its way onto her face. Despite everything, she felt absolved. Despite everything, it was good to be alive.

She pretended to be asleep when the Healer came to check in on her. Once the door closed, Errol bolted out of bed and dressed, brushing her thankfully clean hair and leaving it to fall in waves past her shoulders. She put on a blue shift dress and belted it at the waist, slipped her feet into soft shoes, and draped a woolen shawl around her head so that her face was obscured. Then she left her room by the secret exit, the one that was still cobwebby and partially sealed off, that she was only supposed to use if she was in need of a quick escape. Even some of her advisors didn't know about it; she had discovered it by mistake, though Leliana, with her eyes and ears everywhere, quickly found out.

She made her way through unused rooms, thick with dust, her feet stirring small clouds as she passed. When she got to the courtyard the sun was just setting and everyone was heading inside for dinner, so it was easy to walk in the shadows. She kept her head down, hurried up the tower steps, and slipped inside his office.

He was sitting at his desk and reading some document, a very deep furrow in his brow. At first he didn't realize anyone had come in, and she leaned against the closed door, watching him. He was still in his armor, his protection against the world, and she realized that after all of this time he must feel naked without it. He rubbed his neck, and she could almost feel the pain of his tight muscles. He looked exhausted.

Life's too short to regret, Varric had said. But if Solas was right, her life wasn't short. Her life might go on for a long time. Cullen's life, however, would be over in the blink of an eye. That is, if they both survived the impending battle. They might both die in the next week. Nothing was certain.

She shifted, and he looked up, startled, his eyes turning from wary to warm when he saw her, and despite everything she loved him all over again.

"You came," he said softly, and stood, taking in her figure. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress since that day back at Haven."

Errol stepped into the light and slipped the makeshift hood from her shoulders. "No one else has either. It's part of my disguise."

Cullen smiled a little at that. "It suits you. The dress, I mean." He approached her and raised his hand as if to touch her bare skin, then thought better of it. She noticed that he wasn't wearing his gloves. "Thank you for coming."

"It was a pretty intense note for so few words."

"Yes, well…" He rubbed his neck again, this time shyly. "I… thank you for coming."

"You already said that."

"Ah, so I did."

"Cullen, about—"

"I want to give you something."

Errol was silent. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't this. "A gift?"

"Yes. No. Not really." He sighed, sat on the edge of his desk, and picked up a closed box. "I wanted to think of some way to get you to… trust me again after everything that happened. I wanted to show you that any trust you might place in me is earned, even if you can't… even if we can only be friends. At the very least I want us to be that again." He turned the box around in his hands, and she noticed that they were trembling.

"I told you before that I'm no longer taking lyrium. I struggle with it every day. I have… good days and bad days. Some days the desire to take it again is so strong…" He trailed off. "But I have not faltered. I'm no longer leashed to that life."

"That's good," she said, stepping toward him. "You're doing amazing, Cullen."

He stood and abruptly put the box in her hand. "This is my philter," he said. "My lyrium kit and dispenser and what little lyrium I have left. I want you to have it."

Errol stood there, shocked. "Me? Why?"

"Because I don't need it anymore." He looked at her with a very raw expression on his face. "Because you're the only woman I trust with it."

"What should I do with it?"

Cullen's eyes didn't leave hers. "Whatever you like. Burn it."

Her breath caught. "You can't mean that."

"I do. I won't be leashed to that life any longer. It almost ruined me. It made me hateful. It almost…" He seemed to have a hard time getting the words out. "It almost made me lose you."

Errol thought for a moment, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "You're sure?"

"I am," he said, his voice low and intimate, without hesitation.

She held out the box. "Here. Put your hands around mine."

He did so, his larger hands covering hers. "What are you going to do?"

"Break the leash." She looked him in the eye. "Do you trust me?"

The answer was immediate. "With my life."

She nodded and then concentrated. The box lit up with flame. He flinched in shock but didn't remove his hands. As it burned, the fire turned blue, wreathing their skin but not touching them. It burned the box down, burned the metal into pools of silver and then white smoke, until all that rested in their cupped hands were ashes.

"You are free," she said softly, and his eyes widened as the ashes began to glow and float away, carried by a nonexistent wind.

Very gently, he stepped closer, slowly moving his hands up her arms, his eyes watching her face for any signs of reluctance or hesitation. She stayed perfectly still, her heart a hummingbird in her throat, as his fingers trailed past her shoulders and neck, until he cupped her face in his hands.

"You freed me," he murmured as he dipped his head down to tenderly brush her lips with his. She leaned into it, the knot inside of her chest loosening, and brought her hands up to hook around his breastplate and pull him closer. Shyly, she flitted her tongue across her lips, and was rewarded with a soft groan as he deepened the kiss.

The door flew open with a crash. "Commander, the Inquisitor is not in her chambers!"

"Oh for Maker's sake!" he exclaimed, stepping away to glower at Cassandra. "Is everyone forever hunting down Errol or only when she is with me?"

Cassandra's face was bright red. "Cullen!" she exclaimed. "I… I did not know!"

"Well, now you do," he said with atypical impatience, looking at the door significantly, his hands curled at his sides. Cassandra fidgeted and for once seemed uncertain of what to say.

"Not that I am one to get in the way of anyone's… respite, but Leliana is insisting on a detailed report of the Inquisitor's time in the Fade now that she has awoken."

"Always Leliana," Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples. "We will be there in a moment, Cassandra."

"I will wait outside," Cassandra said stiffly. When she finally left the room Cullen turned and kissed Errol again, gathering her into his arms and slanting his mouth across hers as her fingers found purchase in his neatly tamed curls.

"It seems that we are never to have a moment's peace," he said when they broke apart. Errol ran her hands through his mussed hair, straightening it.

"Cullen," she said, a worried frown on her face. "There's one more thing you should know if we're… if this is going to be anything."

He drew her in with one arm so that she fit into his side and looked down at her expectantly. "There's more?"

"Isn't there always?" She sighed. "Solas thinks that, with this whole 'me being a spirit thing,' well, that… I might not age. I'm still hoping that I can become human again, here. He says it's not possible."

"Hmm." Cullen kissed the top of her head. "Solas seems to have a vested interest in keeping you a spirit."

"He does, but I don't know why."

"So he's probably not the most reliable person to speak to when it comes to what's possible or not. Look at Cole. He became human…ish."

"He says I'm not like Cole."

"He also wanted Cole to stay a spirit, didn't he?"

Errol nodded thoughtfully. Cullen's arm tightened around her. "We'll find a way," he promised. "There must be a way, and until then we'll live our lives day by day."

She wrapped her arm around his waist. "Day by day."

Outside, Cassandra pounded on the door. "What are you doing in there? No, wait, don't tell me. Just be quick! Or you can tell Leliana why we're late!"

Errol snorted and walked with Cullen to the door. As they passed Cassandra, she leaned over. "It's just like one of your books come to life!" she whispered theatrically. Cassandra's face turned even redder, and Errol giggled all the way to the War Room.

"Inquisitor!" Leliana greeted her brightly when they arrived. Too brightly. "I see you've awoken. So glad you've decided to grace us with your presence." Her voice grew softer. "You should be aware, I made the mistake of not guarding that exit to your room once. I won't make it again."

Errol stared at her blankly, but the Spymaster just guided her into the room where Josephine was waiting with snacks. "Now, shall we begin? It's necessary to hear of your experiences in the Fade as soon as possible. We've already recorded the experiences of your companions, and Alistair is on his way to Weisshaupt to speak with the last of the Grey Wardens. There is so much to do before the ball at Halamshiral, you'll barely have a moment to yourself."

Errol had a sinking feeling as the doors closed behind her. That sounded suspiciously like a threat.