AN: I should probably note that all unmentioned Companion quests do exist/are going on in the background, but if they aren't terribly changed from the canon I don't write them as no one wants to read a rehash of events simply for the sake of it, plus it would make this story about 100 chapters long.

Chapter 22: Cracks in the Armor

By the time they arrived back at Skyhold, things had already started going wrong.

Morrigan hadn't arrived yet. She had to stay behind and clean up a few loose ends at Halamshiral before she could begin making her way to Skyhold. No one seemed to know when that would be, leaving Errol feeling helpless and frustrated as news of Corypheus pulling up his troops began to filter in, though they had no way of knowing to where or why.

They had been back only a few days when Solas found her pacing the battlements. She turned, and he was just there, his hands behind his back, standing perfectly still, as if he had been there the whole time.

She stopped, her hand over her heart. "Jesus Andraste, Solas, you startled me!" His presence always made her nervous in ways she didn't want to investigate. There was still a lingering pull of attraction there, despite her very satisfying relationship with Cullen, and it unsettled her, especially when he looked at her in that irritatingly knowing way.

"I apologize. A word, Inquisitor?"

"Of… of course," she said, and he turned and started walking. After a moment's hesitation, she followed.

They hadn't spoken much since the ball; even on the trip back they'd been separated by the larger traveling party, and she'd spent most of the ride with her horse pulled next to Cullen's. After they'd returned he secluded himself in his room and she hadn't sought him out. It seemed best not to; she spent most of her free time in Cullen's bed anyway, and she knew he probably wasn't happy about that.

Instead of going to his rotunda he surprised her by turning and walking down to the dungeons, then down again. "Where are we going?" she asked, but he just opened another door to reveal a waterfall tumbling from a massive ledge underneath Skyhold.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, the roar almost too loud to hear over. She raised her voice. "Why down here?"

He closed the door and waved his hand, and the noise of the waterfall dampened considerably. "I wanted somewhere private… it is notoriously difficult to find privacy in Skyhold these days, isn't it?"

Errol winced at the dig. She was certain that due to Leliana's pranks all of Skyhold knew of her and Cullen's unsuccessful attempts at coupling from a few weeks back. She still wanted to plot revenge against the Nightingale, if she wasn't so certain Leliana could do terrible, terrible things to her in her sleep. "Oh, I… yeah. What did you want to talk about?"

"I'm merely curious about a few things," he said, in his deceptively level academic voice. "You visit so rarely these days, we haven't had a chance to speak about the events at Halamshiral."

"I've been… busy."

"Indeed you have." There was something to his tone that struck her as odd, but he continued. "So you reunited the two lovebirds to the benefit of all of Thedas. A brilliant tactical move. You were aware, however, that Celene murdered Briala's family?"

"I was. Leliana told me."

"And you still chose to reunite them."

"As you said, it was a tactical move. The rulers of Orlais are all horrible people who have played the Game for so long they have no souls left. This helps not only restore stability but it might help the elves gain some equality without needing Gaspard as a puppet ruler."

"That is an astoundingly analytical way to look at the situation for someone who once couldn't bear to take a single life and who valued honesty above all things. You have changed. I've yet to decide if it's for the better." That was a lie; he sounded pleased. He prowled around her, stopping just behind her shoulder. "I did enjoy your dress. You can tell why I couldn't say it at court, but it was rather stunning."

"Thank you," Errol said. She suddenly had a hard time swallowing. "You seem… on edge."

"I've been having trouble sleeping."

"Oh. Trouble in the Fade?"

"More like trouble getting there. I keep being awoken. Sometimes it's just at the back of my mind, like an itch I can't scratch. Sometimes it's… stronger." He pulled her collar down slightly, exposing her mark to the cool wet air. "You should take care to cover it more thoroughly when you're being bedded, Inquisitor. The more exposed it is, the more difficult to resist, and I don't appreciate being woken due to someone else's use of what is mine." His voice had grown very quiet and very cold.

Her eyes widened and she knew her cheeks were red. "You can feel that?"

"Quite strongly. You're lucky I spend most of my time alone. It would be difficult to explain in company." His fingers lightly traced the scar. "It is disappointing that you give the gift of yourself so easily to one who is so unworthy."

Okay, now she was just pissed. Errol spun around to face him, knocking his hand away. "A gift? A: Ew, and B: I wasn't a virgin! Not that that would even matter, you misogynist prick."

He took her insults without even blinking. "It's true you had tumbled with boys while you were still confined to a mortal body. Do you think that matters? I offer you total freedom, while he offers to put the bars on the cage you so willingly step back into." He shook his head, looking tired. "I find myself completely unable to understand the choices you make."

Errol pushed him on the chest. She knew it wasn't smart to poke the bear, but she was just so irritated by this game he was always playing. "And I find myself unable to understand why you won't just tell me things! Why does it matter to you so much! Are you immortal, because you speak as if you are. What is your plan, your end game, and how do I fit into it? You talk about freedom, but when I'm with you all I feel is that I'm being manipulated."

"There are certain truths you aren't ready for yet. I thought you trusted me."

"Would you trust someone so much you'd let them lead you over a cliff blindfolded? There's a difference between trusting someone and being stupid!"

He took her by the shoulders, as if he was going to shake sense into her. "And there's a difference between loving someone and simply being afraid to embrace the new! You were unhappy being human, Errol, I saw it in the Fade every night! You would take those shackles on again, for a man so broken he shakes with want of lyrium?"

She laughed scornfully. "And you have made no mistakes in your life."

"I have made many, most of which I plan to rectify soon."

"He feels the same."

His grip on her shoulders loosened but he didn't release her. "It matters not. Even if you choose him and live his life, you cannot become human again. It isn't possible, and he will die, eventually."

"And where will you be?"

"Waiting."

"Is that supposed to be comforting or threatening?"

He leaned forward, his breath on her lips. "Can't it be both?"

She didn't back away; she wanted to stand her ground. "Solas, whatever you think is going to—"

Her breath caught in her throat as his hand slipped under her collar to gently rest on the mark. She narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"An experiment," he said, very quietly, and then magic crackled outward from his palm. She dug her nails into her hands and whimpered, but didn't step away.

"I won't be intimidated by you," she said. He didn't move, just stood achingly close, letting the magic pour into the mark on her neck.

"Intimidated is not how I want you to feel at this moment," he said. "I am simply seeking a reaction."

"Obviously."

He smiled thinly and shifted so that he was speaking directly into her ear. "You misunderstand me. You wonder why I do not simply leave you be? The truth is you don't want me to. I can smell the desire on you when I'm near. I can hear your heart jump as we speak and it's not out of fear. You followed me like a lamb down here knowing what would happen. You want this as I do but you're afraid to jump. You're balancing on a fragile wire." The mark pulsed with magic, making her tremble, the soaking ache between her thighs almost unbearable. "How far do I have to push for it to break?"

She curled her fists tighter. She could beat this, she could prove to him, to herself—

"You're wrong. Attraction is not love, and I don't cheat."

"I am not wrong," he murmured, using his other hand to turn her face toward his, so that their lips were almost touching. "And you know it."

He was too close, the magic too strong, curling around her like a drug, breaking open the parts of herself that she kept carefully locked away because they were too dangerous. Her eyes fluttered closed. It would be so easy to just give in.

"Stop!"

Suddenly the magic was gone and he was torn away from her. Errol felt the spray of the waterfall on her face and the haziness lifted, replaced with shattering clarity. She looked up to see Cole standing between them, his hands out, yelling at Solas.

"I understand, you don't want to be alone anymore, you want someone by your side as you remake the world, but this isn't the way to do it!"

Errol narrowed her eyes, anger igniting like a fire. "Remake the world? What does that mean?"

Solas looked at her past Cole's shoulder. "You said yourself the world is broken. We all have plans for what comes next. I've told you many times before that you are vital to making this world better, but only if you make the right choices." He turned, then paused, his hand on the door. "I still have hope that you will, in the end."

He left. When the echo of his footsteps vanished she put a trembling hand to her flushed forehead. What the fuck had just happened? Was it her or was it him or—?

"It wasn't right, what he did. He brought up the desires you keep hidden, made them bigger, stronger, like his. He shouldn't. They're hidden for a reason."

She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but… "Cole, what is he thinking?"

"It's hard to hear, all buried under the ages, barriers upon barriers, but there's want, hot and hard and hopeful, pulsing through him like the mark pulses through you." Cole turned his huge, innocent eyes on her. "He wanted to take you here on the ground, at the ball behind a locked door where you would have had to be quiet as you came, hand hot on your mouth, bent over, dress bunched around your waist, warm, wet, wanting—"

"Ok, anything beyond that?" she asked, flushing.

"There's also in your chambers, in his room once everyone has left for the night, in the tents, the woods, the Fade, the gardens that night had they not come with their lamps ruining that one chance when you were begging—"

"Cole! Moving on!"

"They are thoughts! I'm more human but I still don't understand why they make you so uncomfortable! They make him uncomfortable too, especially when he can feel you and Cullen — the teacup shattering on the floor, hands gripping the desk, waves over him like a dark sea and he is drowning in pleasure not his own and he almost cries out your name— it feels good but he hates it, why?"

Errol sat down on a broken chunk of masonry and sighed. "You'll get it eventually. Just give it time. DON'T repeat to him or anyone else that we had this conversation."

"All right." He still looked confused.

"Anything else?"

"He's lonely."

Errol felt a pang of regret. "I know."

"He always felt he had to walk a path alone but now that's changed, he has hope that you can change that, you're not like the others, not like them but not like me either. You can be more. You can be like him."

"And what is he?"

"I… don't know. Old. He was more than he is, once, but not anymore. He wants to be that again."

Errol sighed. "I remember when the biggest decision I had to make was what to order for dinner."

"You don't want to go back to that," Cole said with certainty. Errol shook her head.

"No I don't. Maybe I'm a masochist."

"A little, I think. You do seem to like pain."

She laughed sadly and stood, putting an arm around him. "Come on, let's go upstairs and get food. Have you figured out what you like yet?"

"Not eggs," he said immediately. "They want to be baby chickens but they're not."

"Okay, no eggs. No chicken either, though, right?"

"It smells like people."

"Vegan it is, then."

He paused. "Errol, you know that if I… if I become too much like a person, I might eventually lose my powers. I might not always be able to make them forget."

She sighed and squeezed him. "That's okay. As long as you're happy, we'll work it out. Are you happy?"

"I think so. It's hard to tell."

"That's life."

"Life is… hard."

"Fuck yeah it is."

Cole tilted his head. "You want to go to her, but you're afraid. Don't be. She's... enthusiastic, but she can trusted. We can go now, if you like. She's alone."

Errol nodded. She didn't relish the idea, but it had to be done. She especially didn't relish the idea when Dagna was in front of her, cooing happily as she cut little bits off of Errol like they were candy while promising to be very, very careful with them. Errol tried to calm Dagna with several careful, pointed threats, but when that didn't work she simply left, her hand, finger, thigh, arm, and neck bleeding from fine-tuned nicks.

All Errol knew at that moment was that she needed to get out of Skyhold for a little while to clear her head. Luckily, Iron Bull had a Qunari assignment he wanted her to accompany him on. She jumped at it, and they left the next morning, with just Cole and Dorian and a couple of mounts.

It didn't end well.

The barn was very quiet and smelled like horses. She liked the smell, even the manure. It reminded her of going to farms as a child. She pulled on her drink and waited for him to arrive. Any moment now.

Soon a figure appeared in the wide doorway, blocking out the moon for a moment. It sensed her presence and reached for its sword, but she just raised her hand and waved. The figure hesitated.

"My lady?"

Errol took a swig from the flask and settled herself more comfortably on the hay, her feet propped up like it was a scratchy hammock. "Blackwall, just the person I was looking for. Pull up a bale, settle down. I brought you your very own flask of something gross and alcoholic. Here. Drink with me."

He sat, tentatively, and took what she offered. "Are you… feeling well?"

"Me? I'm just fucking fine."

He uncapped the flask, sniffed it, and made a face. "This is swill."

"Yep."

He watched her for a moment. "It's just, you usually drink with Varric or Iron Bull or even with Sera. What brought you here?"

She turned to look at him. "The hay seemed comfortable," she deadpanned. He stared at her and she pointed at him. "There, that's why I'm here. You don't do stupid jokes. Everyone else jokes too much. You're serious. I like that."

"I joke!" he said, rather affronted. "You've heard me joke! I can joke!"

"On the field yeah, I've seen you loosen up, but here it's like Andraste herself is breathing down your neck," Errol said, taking a swig. "I mean, it's cool, we've all got issues, right? But I can't handle anyone trying to be funny right now."

He shifted uncomfortably on his bale of hay and took the tiniest sip of the terrible alcohol. "I'll help if I can, my lady. Is there anything you'd like me to not make a joke about?"

She was quiet for a moment, the fingers of her right hand idly pulling out pieces of hay and dropping them on the floor. "You heard about Iron Bull, yeah? The mission with him and the Qunari."

"Aye, I did. I know you saved the Charges from certain death."

"And let a ship full of Qunari burn for it."

"Is that what this is about? Are you back to puking on the field?" He shook his head. "After all of this time? You saved the Chargers. You did right by Iron Bull. You did what you could in a bad situation."

"No, it's not that," she said. "The thing is, that's not why I saved them. Friendship and whatnot. It's not the reason. It wasn't because I care about the Chargers." She exhaled, long and slow. "It's because I've taken a lot of time to read up on this world and its people. A lot of time. It was because, from a tactical standpoint, I know that the Qunari still want to invade Thedas at the end of the day. From a tactical standpoint, they're still the enemy, and any alliance they claim with us will be dead the moment the Qun tells them to invade. From a tactical fucking standpoint, it was better to let them burn to death. All of them. Screaming. Tactical. Fucking. Standpoint." She enunciated each of the words.

He was quiet.

"And I didn't puke," she continued. "In fact, I felt nothing. Maker, I've changed."

"Have you spoken to Cullen about this?" he asked tentatively, and she snorted.

"No. I can't burden him with every little crisis of identity. I burden him with enough already."

"Why me, then? It's no burden, my lady, but I am curious."

"The weight is heavy on your shoulders," she said dreamily, and he stiffened. "You hunch with it. But you keep fighting." She looked at him. "I want to know how you do it. How you can be pulled in so many different directions you feel like you're two different people, like you'll go mad with the pressure, but you keep going. How do you keep from losing yourself?"

He took a drink and it burned down his throat. "I think I lost myself a long time ago, to tell you the truth."

"Ah. Maybe that's the secret." She looked up at the dark beams crisscrossing overhead. "I want to comfort Iron Bull but I'm not sure how. I saved his friends but killed his people." She raised her flask to the ceiling. "Tactical fucking standpoint." She drank.

Blackwall was silent, turning his flask around in his battle-scarred hands. "War changes us," he finally said. "All we can continue to do is try to do good, be good, and not lose sight of what that means. No matter the motivation, you saved the Chargers and you did right by Iron Bull. You need to remember that."

"Thank you," Errol said softly. "I don't know if I've ever thanked you. For joining us. You've been through a lot yourself - after what we found at Adamant, losing so many Wardens." She looked at him, her gaze quiet and steady. "You never wavered, despite your loss. You're a good man."

Blackwall looked troubled. "Am I?" he asked softly.

She snorted. "As good as the rest of us are. Imperfect, grouchy, and in dire need of a beard trim, but good. We need every last person we can get if we want to beat Corypheus, and we need good people around if we're going to stare into that void and even hope to hold on to our humanity." She closed her eyes and settled into the hay. "I love this world dearly, Blackwall, but God and Maker, I am tired of lies and death."

Slowly her breathing evened out. Blackwall gently removed the flask from her limp fingers and covered her with a blanket. He watched her sleep for a while, guilt like a knife in his gut.

By morning he was gone.