The Inquisitor's Ghost

by nothelping

She met him in the dungeons of the White Spire. She was the only one who could see him, remember him. Five years later, and Cole was back in her life, appearing out of thin air, just like the ghostly apparition he was, tempting her with something she could never have. Because every mage knew: Never take a demon into your soul. You'll change yourself forever.

14. Chapter 14 – Phylactery

The Inquisitor's Ghost

Chapter 14 – Phylactery

Maker, my enemies are abundant

Many are those who rise up against me

But my faith sustains me

I shall not fear the legion

Should they set themselves against me

- Trials 1:1

It was four in the morning when the Inquisitor entered the silent and black as pitch tavern at Skyhold. She closed the door softly behind her and fell back against it, the back of her head connecting with a soft thud. Her eyes closed on their own accord. She was utterly exhausted. Her eyes were burning and gritty behind her eyelids. Her body was stiff, cold, and still wet from her sparring match with Cole only hours before. Her stomach was growling something awful. She would murder a cup of tea and a dozen sweet buns right now.

Three hours ago, with Cullen running beside her, Ember had raced across Skyhold to the library to find Dorian sitting on the top of a bookcase with an arcane shield surrounding him. He'd been half naked with only pants on shouting at the Champion of Kirkwall to stop attacking him. The Iron Bull was standing protectively in front of the bookcase, also half naked, preventing Marian Hawke from killing his lover.

And Hawke… Maker… that woman who'd been raging in the library that the Pavus family were friends with someone named Danarius and deserved to die… that woman was not Marian Hawke. She didn't look like Hawke, the woman Ember remembered. This woman's hair was shaved. Her body was so skinny she looked sickly. Three long, angry red scars ran diagonally across her face, as if a creature had slashed its claws across her face. And her eyes… sweet Andraste… her eyes her dead. There was no life. There was only grief. This woman was an empty shell of the Champion of Kirkwall.

Ember had tried to talk to Hawke, but she was crazed beyond all rationality. She'd been spitting mad, demanding Dorian's blood, until she'd finally looked at Ember and fell deathly silent. After some time of staring mutely at her face, Hawke had finally recognized her as the scrawny eight-year-old redhead who'd been taken in by her family in Lothering. Hawke didn't hug her as Ember had thought she would. Instead, she'd just stared at her with those lifeless eyes, saying not a word. Varric had arrived then to take Hawke away to his quarters.

After some time, Varric had returned to them. His eyes were red from crying. When they asked him what had happened to Hawke, Varric had said that a week ago Hawke and her husband Fenris had been hunting Anders. When they found him, he was only Justice - a rampant, bloodthirsty abomination. Hawke and Fenris had fought Anders and killed him, but Fenris had died protecting Hawke. Ember had wanted to speak with Hawke, but Varric had told her no. Ember couldn't even imagine what Hawke was going through. Any words she could offer would be meaningless. She decided to let Varric take care of Hawke.

After that, Ember had spent another hour searching for Cole. She wanted to talk to him about what had happened between them in the tight cluster of trees hidden behind the stables. But she couldn't find him anywhere. She'd searched every inch of Skyhold with no luck. The only place left to search was the Herald's Rest, which was where she was now.

Ember forced herself to push off the tavern door before she fell asleep standing up. She stood straight, squinting into the darkness of the tavern. She moved forward slowly, trying to navigate her way to the stairs in the dark. She ran face first into a wooden beam, she forced herself to hold back the roar of pain that wished to escape her as her hand flew to her now throbbing forehead to rub it gingerly. Growling softly in irritation, she lifted her hand in front of her and drew upon the Fade. She summoned a flame that hovered a few inches above the palm of her hand. The flame brought light into the dark room of the tavern.

Ember knew she shouldn't use magic. She was risking her freedom, the one thing she treasured most in this world besides her friends. If anyone were to see her now, she'd be risking it. No one could know she was a mage. She didn't want to – no, couldn't - be tagged and caged like before. She couldn't bear it. If she was ever discovered to be a mage, she could be taken back to the dungeons of the White Spire, if she somehow managed to survive all of this. But she was in no mood to go traipsing in the dark right now.

With the little flame to guide her, the Inquisitor moved sluggishly up the stairs to the third floor of the Herald's Rest. She called Cole's name softly, quietly, into the darkness while she searched the entire third floor. He wasn't there. Her eyes shifted to the stairs that would lead her up to the door that connected to the small room that Cole had claimed as his bedchamber.

Ember bit her lip and stood unmoving for a moment in indecision. She'd never been in Cole's room. Josie had been the one to show him to a bedchamber in the keep, but Cole had refused to sleep there. He wanted to stay in the tavern where he could watch people. He loved watching people. Josie had told her that Cole had taken the room on the third floor of the tavern as his own quarters. She wasn't sure if she should go in his bedchamber without his permission, but she'd searched all of Skyhold without luck. Cole had to be in there though, it was the only place left, and she really wanted to speak with him. She was impatient, she knew, but patience had never been her forte.

Ember walked up the steps and then stood in front of his door for a few seconds, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, trying to come up with something to say to him. With a trembling hand, she opened his door slowly, quietly. With her head swimming and her heartbeat roaring in her ears, Ember silently slipped inside his room, and closed his door behind her with a soft click.

Ember stood in the middle of Cole's room with the flame she'd conjured hovering a few inches over the open palm of her hand. The flame was her only source of light as she scanned his dark room, utterly surprised to find it vacant of any occupants. She was also surprised at the dilapidated state of his room. There were several stones, papers, and broken furniture scattered about the room along with shattered picture frames and iron candlestick holders lying on the ground. Giant cobwebs covered three corners of the room while a small cast-iron stove stood in the last corner beside a small pile of wood. The ceiling wasn't complete, and she could see the stars and the moon through the broken wooden boards in the ceiling, its silvery-white light shining down on his room in beams. His nightstand was an old barrel with candles on it and a leather tome. His bed was brand new, though, and very luxurious. Obviously Josie had purchased the bed and had it moved into his room.

She shifted awkwardly on her feet. She felt self-conscious all of a sudden, although she was alone. It felt weird being in his room, without him in it. She looked around, biting her lip, not sure what to do now. Should she leave? But she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay, stay with the little pieces of him that were scattered about the room amidst the rubble. She decided then that she would wait for him.

Ember slowly walked forward, the flame flickering in her hand, before she used it to light the wick of the candle resting on his nightstand and then extinguished the flame in her palm. The light from the single candle cast a soft glow around her, illuminating her aqua eyes as they scanned his room, not sure what to do with herself now.

After a few minutes, her eye caught something on his windowsill. Curious, Ember leisurely walked towards the window behind his nightstand and stared down at the collection of small-carved statuettes that lined his windowsill. There were sixteen statuettes that had been hand-carved from ironbark and finely painted, just like the necklace that hung around her neck. There was one statuette of her and Cole, as well as each of her companions, her advisors, and what she assumed was Rhys, Evangeline, and Wynne based on the descriptions she'd heard from both Cole and Leliana. Ember couldn't suppress the smile that curved her lips as she peered down at the collection. They were exquisite. The small, hand-carved statuettes were flawlessly carved and painted with intricate details. Cole had taken a lot of time crafting them. They were meaningful to him, she could tell.

With a yawn, the Inquisitor stretched her hands over her head before looking at his unmade bed. Unconsciously, her feet shuffled to his bed. She tentatively stretched out her hand to glide it along the fine cotton sheets. They were deep red in color and incredibly soft. Maker, she was tired. But she couldn't return to her quarters. Her room was littered with five Venatori corpses and a dead raven that was cut open and left on her bed. No, she couldn't return there. Not tonight.

With a groan, Ember sat down on the edge of his bed and her muscles protested the movement. She was till sore from the injury she'd suffered in the cave earlier that day, as well as the sparring match with Cole a few hours ago. A goofy smile bloomed on her face at the memory of what had happened afterward, a memory that refused to leave her mind for even a second.

She'd kissed Cole. Well, it was more like she'd attacked him. With her mouth. And her hands. And her tongue. At the time, she'd had to fight the urge to remove all of his clothes, and then hers, and finally learn why so many people enjoyed what happened when two people were naked. Her cheeks burned. The memory remained, branded in her brain, and with it a lingering ache of longing in her chest that was sharply edged with embarrassment at being so forward with Cole, of all people.

Ember groaned in mortification as she dropped her head into her hands. Why did she do that? Why did she jump him like that? Well, she knew why. If she was honest with herself, she knew she'd been dying to kiss Cole ever since the night he appeared in her bedroom, right after he'd painted the stars on her ceiling. But that didn't mean she should be attacking him like she did. She didn't want to frighten him for Maker's sake.

A thought hit her like a battering ram to the chest. Oh Maker, was that why she couldn't find him? Did she scare him off? Sweet Andraste, was he even here? She'd spent the last hour searching every inch of Skyhold for him and she didn't find him. Did he leave Skyhold?

Her fingers moved to massage her temples, attempting to ease the headache that was forming there. After a few moments, she clasped her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs, and tapped her feet anxiously on his floor as she waited for him to return so she could make sure she didn't ruin everything between them with her reckless behavior and mindless lust.

As her feet tapped restlessly on the floor, her blue-green eyes slid to the large, leather-bound book that was resting on the barrel that acted as his nightstand. From the tattered look of it, he'd obviously read it several times over. Interested, Ember picked it up. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened it to the first page to find it wasn't a book at all. The pages had all been ripped out. Instead, it was being used to hold a large collection of loose, individual pieces of parchment that were stacked within.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down at the first piece of parchment that contained a charcoal sketch of her sparring with Bull. She turned the page and the next page was another sketch of her. This one was of her gazing out at the sunrise as she sat on the eastern wall. The next page was of her reading reports in the rookery. She flipped through the loose pieces of parchment contained in the book. Some were portraits of her face, some were full figures, but they all had one thing in common - they were all of her.

Ember kept flipping through the pages until she reached the sketches at the end of the pile. These were older, she could tell by the yellowing of the parchment. She paused in her flipping to stare down at a sketch of a much younger version of herself. A sketch of her sleeping in a cell behind metal bars graced the page – all gentle lines and curves. She lightly touched a softly curved arm thrown back, spiky lashes drawn on a cheek, the blanket he'd stolen for her wrapped around her legs.

With a lump clogging her throat and a tightening in her chest, Ember closed the book and put it back on his nightstand. As she did so, her eyes began to droop and she began to yawn every few seconds. Knowing she'd have to wake Josie up to find her a room for the night – and that Josie was most likely sleeping beside a very naked Blackwall, and she didn't want to see any of his naked bits – Ember decided she would just sleep here for the night and have her room cleaned in the morning.

Unable to hold herself upright any longer, Ember stood and went to the small cast-iron stove in the corner of the room and tossed in a few logs, using magic to ignite a fire. Flames leapt to life behind the stove grating, giving off a welcoming warmth. She then removed her rain-soaked boots and socks, then her armor until she remained in nothing but her smalls. She set a chair on its legs in front of the stove and laid her wet clothes on it, hoping to dry them.

The mage then touched a black tunic where it lay folded on his bed. It was soft beneath her fingers. She slipped the shirt over her head and her deep red curls fell to her waist. The shirt was freshly washed, smelling of sandalwood, but it also had the underlying scent of him. She couldn't help herself and breathed in his distinctive scent. It was such a unique blend of fragrances that made him unmistakable, identifiable by smell alone.

She blew out the candle on his nightstand, casting the room in complete darkness. With a yawn, she slipped beneath his sheets, reclining on her back. When she laid her head down on his pillow she found herself staring up at the midnight sky full of stars through the broken boards of his ceiling. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent that reminded her of moonlit walks in the woods that were filled with cinnamon trees. His scent was strongest here. It seemed to permeate from the sheets and rattle her mind. She adjusted, trying to get comfortable, but every little movement she made seemed to ruffle the sheets, causing a fresh onslaught of his staggering scent to assault her senses. With his scent enveloping her like a warm embrace, it felt as if he was actually there with her.

Moving once more beneath his cool sheets, Ember curled up on her side, one hand sliding beneath his pillow. Her fingers touched something cold and metal. Her eyebrows furrowed as she continued to touch the item under his pillow, trying to identify it. It was small and round, and could fit in the palm of her hand. Curious now, she sat up and removed the item from beneath his pillow.

She held it up in front of her face, studying it, the moonlight her only source of light. It was a glass vial filled with red liquid that was set within a gold ring that hung from a gold chain. Engraved on the bottom of the gold ring was her name - Ember Laurent.

Her eyes slowly widened as she realized what this was. It was her phylactery. When she'd been captured and taken to the White Spire, the templars had put some of her blood in a glass vial to be used to track her down if she ever escaped. But they never did.

Her vision began to swim as she realized Cole must've retrieved it from the basement of the White Spire, a place that was heavily guarded by templars and protected by magic and wards. Cole must've taken it so that the templars could never track her down. So that she could be free. Even from him. But he'd kept her phylactery, kept it with him for five years.

With tears in her eyes, she replaced her phylactery beneath his pillow and laid her head upon it. Emotions churned inside her. Confusion and joy whipped through her so rapidly that she had trouble even absorbing them. The last emotion, however, that one lingered. The one that scared her the most.

After what had happened earlier, she was afraid to find that friendship alone was no longer an option for them. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She knew she would never be satisfied with anything less than all of him. Not now. Not after she'd had a taste of him, a taste that told her that what she'd felt all those years ago as a girl wasn't simply a figment of her imagination. It was real. And she wanted Cole. She wanted all of him. Nothing less.

But did Cole feel the same? And even if he did, given what they were, was everything even possible for them? In all honesty, the possibility of a them felt too fragile to hold her hopes and her dreams, but she found herself doing it inadvertently.

Sleep rose up and Ember closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into a restless night sleep.

Hours later, Ember awakened to morning light filtering in through the broken boards of the ceiling. Cole's scent was all around her, thicker and stronger than before. The maddening scent of him hung potent in the air, pulling at the strings of her heart. She was warm, so warm, with something firm yet soft pressed against her back. A starlight smile spread across her face before she rolled over quickly with unconcealed eagerness to see Cole lying in the bed beside her.

But to her sheer dismay, there was no one there. Her smile slowly faded to a deep frown as she realized it was merely a pillow that was pressed up against her back. Looking around, Ember's eyes took in her surroundings, and more importantly, who was not there. The room was empty, with everything exactly where it had been before she went to sleep the night before. Falling back onto his pillow, Ember covered her face with her hands, her breathing jagged and erratic from feeling so high to suddenly feeling so low, her disappoint so strong it felt like a living thing.

Did Cole come to his room last night, see her in his bed, and run as fast and as far away from her as he could? That wouldn't surprise her, though she hoped he'd just not returned to his room last night from… wherever he was.

With a despondent sigh, the Inquisitor sat up and lit the candle on the barrel that acted as his nightstand with a wave of her fingers, magic sprouting from her fingertips and igniting the wick. She stood and stretched, loosening her aching joints. With a heavy heart, she took off his shirt, folded it, and laid it back on his bed. She put her armor back on that was thankfully dry. Once she was dressed, she gave his room one last look before she left, closing his door softly behind her, wondering where Cole had been last night and where he was now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After taking a much needed bath in Leliana's room and eating a hearty breakfast, Ember went to the eastern wall, but Cole wasn't there. She still hadn't seen Cole since their sparring match and she was starting to grow worried. Where was he? Was he coming back? Did she really scare him off? Frowning, Ember went to Cullen's office for an update. After that, she headed for the library to check on Dorian.

With her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip, Ember decided to cut through the atrium, but paused when she heard raised and angry sounding voices coming from within. Curious, she pressed her back against the wall beside the slightly open door that led to the atrium. She peeked around the wall to look into the atrium to find Solas standing with his back to her and Cole pacing the room like a caged tiger. A part of her sighed in relief at the sight of him, thankful he hadn't fled Skyhold, never to be heard from again.

She was surprised to hear Solas' words coming out sharp and brimming with ire and disappointment, "Cole, what you did… do you have any idea how much trouble this can get you in? Or her in, for that matter?"

Cole didn't stop in his pacing, his body taut. "A message was sent to her in blood and black feathers. I sent one back." Ember's eyes widened at the severity in Cole's voice, at the violence coiled beneath his surface.

"You acted without the Inquisitor's approval," Solas reprimanded before pointing at a piece of parchment on his desk. "If anyone found out about this, they would say you have free rein here. They would say the Inquisitor has no control over her demon companion. And if they ever learned she was a mage, she might be executed or made Tranquil!"

Cole's chin turned sharply toward Solas. His expression shifted between wariness and reassurance. "Cut down, crippled, weakened. He won't come after her now. Not until his power is restored." His lashes lowered, hiding his eyes. "I promised that no one was ever going to hurt her. I had to do something. I had to help!"

"Help?" Solas' voice was as rigid as his posture. "Cole, you said so yourself when you first came to Skyhold that you would not hurt people. You said you would only fight in order to protect those that others wished to harm. I have seen you fight, Cole. You always do so in a compassionate manner, as is your nature. You make the kill quick and painless, attacking only those that choose to harm innocents. But those that attacked you and the Inquisitor last night, you made them suffer."

There was a long and tense pause.

"Yes." Spoken softly, the answer was all the more deadly.

"Why?"

Cole said nothing but continued to pace, or more like prowl as a restless animal would, his hands clenching then unclenching at his sides.

Solas pressed on, "Cole, you know your purpose. Compassion, caring, kindness. It is not in your nature to cause suffering."

Cole spun around to face him. "I am me. I help!"

Solas folded his arms. "And just how did you 'help' last night?"

Cole's voice lowered and sharpened to a fine edge, "She is here. Safe and sound because I've made it so. Will always make it so. Me, and no other. My light to protect. Mine!" There was something in his tone, something hot and hard. Something she'd never heard in his voice before.

"Be careful, Cole," Solas cautioned with grave severity. "Possessiveness is not part of your nature."

Cole scrambled backward as if slapped. "No! Not possession. Never possession. Just… just protecting. Covering, shielding, guarding. She must live." It was a fierce declaration. "A light that can never be replicated. Were it gone, it would stay gone."

"She's the Inquisitor. You can't expect to protect her from everything and everyone that wants to hurt her."

"I know…" They were quiet, quiet words. "…but I can try."

Solas approached him cautiously. "Cole, you are indulging in feelings you've never before experienced because you have an interest in her. But what you feel for her is perverting you from your purpose. And a spirit becomes a demon when you twist it against its purpose."

"No!" Cole cried in distress, franticly wringing his hands, his eyes looking everywhere but at Solas. "You're wrong! When I feel like I'm underwater, sinking and sinking with no bottom, darkness pulling me under… she is the light that guides me back. Don't you see? I can't… I-I won't let this world be emptied of her… can't… w-won't… survive it…"

Solas' words were curt and clipped. "Possessiveness, desire, and obsession are not compassionate. They are not emotions of a spirit, Cole, but of a demon. You don't want to lose yourself again to-"

"You don't see!" Cole lashed out, pointing an accusing finger at the elf. "You don't see anything! Eyes on the back of your head, fixed upon the past. On those sleeping, masked in a mirror, hiding, hurting, wanting to awaken-"

"ENOUGH!" Solas' bellow echoed powerfully off the stone walls.

Cole stormed out of the room. After a few moments, Solas followed after him. With her heart hammering in her chest, Ember moved slowly into the atrium and approached Solas' desk. She stared down at the report lying on the surface.

There, in scout Harding's handwriting, was a report for Leliana detailing the dwarf's discovery a few days ago of a hidden red templar base that was located only ten miles away from Skyhold. The dwarf mentioned that the base contained a platoon of red templars that appeared to be sent for the sole purpose of launching a surprise attack on Skyhold. Harding stated that there were Venatori agents located at the base who were taking red lyrium. The report continued to mention how scout Harding had returned to the red templar base this morning for some reconnaissance when she discovered the red templar base had been attacked last night by an unknown force resulting in a grisly slaughter of over fifty red templars, possibly more.

Ember paled. With numb hands, she lifted the paper and read about how scout Harding had returned to the red templar base this morning and discovered several body parts— all that was left— within the red templar base. Scout Harding had known something was wrong the moment she saw the blood seeping out of the base to run in a crimson stream down into the nearby river.

Ember slowly lowered the report to Solas' desk. An entire platoon of red templars slaughtered. So that's where Cole had been last night. Maker, there were so many. How had he done it? She realized she didn't want to know.

These were the same red templars that had attacked them last night, she acknowledged. They were more powerful than the others. And Cole had killed them all… for her. It was staggering. In truth, it frightened her more than a little bit.

Her stomach plummeted. She couldn't deny that committing mass murder wasn't a very compassionate act. Apprehension seeped into her veins, mingling with a sense of foreboding that threatened to overwhelm her. She didn't want to think that Solas could be right, that maybe her connection with Cole was somehow perverting him from his purpose, and yet… a horrific fear had begun to gnaw at her, a knife-edged sensation akin to panic that coiled tightly into a raw knot in her gut.

No, the Inquisitor thought with a firm shake of her head, as if to toss the thought from her mind entirely. Cole was just protecting her and the people at Skyhold. There was nothing more to it.

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An hour later, the Inquisitor stood at attention in the War Room, her chin up, her shoulders squared with all of her companions and advisors around her. They were meeting with Hawke in order to determine their next steps concerning the Grey Wardens.

Ember had spoken very little so far. She was distracted. Her entire thought was focused on one singular subject. She hadn't gotten a chance to speak with Cole yet and she was anxious for this meeting to end so that they could talk about what had happened between them and what had happened with the red templars.

Ember's palms were sweaty and her pulse was racing, all because she was in the same room with Cole. It was ridiculous, really, just how very much aware of him she was, his presence like a magnet for her undivided attention. Though she could only see him in the periphery of her vision, she could feel his eyes upon her like a caress upon her cheek.

The Inquisitor heard something that caught her attention and she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Varric, did I hear this right?" she asked the dwarf curtly. "You and Hawke met Corypheus before?"

Varric snorted. "We didn't have tea and crumpets. We were just there when he woke up."

Ember folded her arms, her ire apparent. "And he said, what? 'Hello, I'm one of the magisters who broke into the Black City. Pleased to meet you!'"

"More like…" Varric cleared his throat and deepened it. "'Argh, I'm a darkspawn! Dumat! Dumat!' Then Hawke killed him. And then she made out with Fenris."

Hawke narrowed her eyes on the dwarf. "Varric…"

Varric held up his hands in a placating manner. "What? You did."

The Inquisitor cleared her throat. "With the help of King Alistair and Hawke, we now know that all Grey Wardens have been summoned to Adamant Fortress in Orlais by Warden-Commander Clarel in one desperate attempt to end all Blights forever. However, as we learned from magister Erimond, we know the Grey Wardens are acting under the influence of Corypheus. He is using them to build a demon army. We must stop them. Now."

"So our plan is to… wha'? Storm this big ol' fortress? Like a buncha nutcrackers?" Sera asked incredulously.

Cullen spoke up, "Our Inquisition forces will attack and lay siege to the Adamant Fortress, holding back the demon army while Hawke, King Alistair, the Inquisitor and a small party reach Clarel."

Ember nodded, thinking on that approach. If they were going to attack Adamant Fortress, she didn't want Cole anywhere near that place. She hadn't told him about the Grey Warden mages' ability to kill a Grey Warden warrior and use blood magic to bind them to a demon, thereby transforming the order into a demon army and effectively enslaving the demon-bound Wardens to Corypheus. She'd been too afraid it would frighten him. She'd had Dorian and Solas working on a plan to keep Cole safe from this binding ritual. They came up with a few ideas, but nothing solid enough for her to risk Cole's protection.

Ember's eyes lifted to lock onto the woman whose grief was so palpable she could cut it with a knife. "Are you sure you want to do this, Hawke?"

Hawke's lifeless eyes met hers. "My blood released Corypheus back into this world. It is my duty to remove him from it. Na via lerno Victoria," Hawke stated proudly, quoting her husband. "Only the living know victory."

"I'm with Hawke," the Inquisitor stated with finality. "We leave for the Adamant Fortress in an hour. Dismissed."

The Inquisitor's companions and advisors nodded at her in understanding before filing out of the War Room, until all that remained was Hawke on one side of the War Table and Ember on the other.

After a long pause, Hawke murmured, "How old are you now, Ember?"

"Three and twenty."

"So young," Hawke muttered under her breath. "And now you're the leader of the most powerful army in all of Orlais and Ferelden. You know, for almost a thousand years, the world believed it was in the hands of the Maker. And now many believe you are the agent of his will. So, tell me, are you the herald of Andraste?"

Ember ran a hand over her red curls. "I honestly don't know. All I know is that the sky is torn open and the world is tearing itself apart." She looked down at the Anchor on her hand that was now glowing a soft green light. "Chaos has left its mark upon me. I am hunted for the power I wield."

Hawke gave a single nod of understanding. "Whatever the truth is, that belief gives you power. What do you plan to do with it?"

Ember raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

Hawke gestured with a hand. "Because every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

The Inquisitor thought on that before answering, "When you reach down into your heart, you'll find many reasons to fight. Survival. Honor. Glory. Me… I feel it is my duty to protect the innocent people caught in this mess." Ember sighed. "All of this happened because of fanatics, and arguments about the next world. It's time we start believing in this one."

Hawke was quiet for a long while. "Then, in the end, you will retain what I did not."

"And what is that?"

Sorrow and remorse darkened the Champion's face. "Your humanity."

Ember pressed a fist over her heart. "It will be an honor to fight beside you, Marian. I owe you my life for saving me as a child. Ask me of anything, and it is yours."

Hawke looked away. She swallowed hard before her eyes returned to her. "Ember…"

"Yes?"

"Take care of Varric," the Champion whispered. "The one that tells the tale is the one who decides history. He tells it wrong, and you have nothing more than a pretty story. He tells it right and you have a legacy. You want a story told right, you ask someone who helped make it happen. And if that someone is Varric, he'll make it awesome. And he'll be by your side every step of the way. A true friend until the very end." There was a little light in Hawke's blue eyes. It wasn't life, but a little flicker of warmth. "Varric is like you," she murmured. "Sometimes family isn't always born. Sometimes it is found."

Hawke bowed slightly before turning and heading for the door. Ember bit her lip. She was afraid to mention Anders' name, knowing he was the one who'd killed Hawke's husband and it probably wasn't a good idea to bring him up considering how unstable Hawke was at the moment, but she had a question she desperately needed answered.

Ember swallowed. "Hawke? What… how did Anders become possessed by Justice? Was it a spell? A ritual?"

Hawke paused at the door, but didn't turn around. "It was an opening."

Ember's eyebrows pulled together. "I… I don't understand."

Hawke turned around to face Ember, her face a stony mask. "Anders was sitting at a tavern in Amaranthine with Justice. They spoke of mages and the injustices they suffered at the hands of the templars. Anders mentioned how he wanted to fight back, but was too afraid. Justice said he would help him. And then, just like that…" Hawke snapped her fingers. "…Anders was possessed by Justice." Hawke swallowed. "And Anders' anger changed them both, turning them into something evil and powerful, something that could burn an entire city to the ground and feel nothing for the lives destroyed."

Ember frowned. "But how… how is that possible?"

"Because Justice was a spirit that had somehow found his way outside of the Fade. All it took was for Anders to open his mind, just that little bit."

Ember's heart dropped into her stomach. "So… there was no spell? No ritual? It just… sort of happened?"

Hawke's chin tucked. "As I said, all you need is an opening." Her eyes turned sorrowful. "Anders… he told me what it was like being an abomination once. He said… he said it was like being trapped in your own body, seeing out your eyes, while someone else moves you like a puppet. And you're trying to scream, to move a single muscle, but there's no escape. Until you look down at the blood on your hands…"

Hawke fell into silence and Ember lowered her gaze to stare at the floor. She hadn't thought about what it would be like to be an abomination. But after hearing it from Hawke… Ember could think of nothing worse, other than being made Tranquil. She couldn't bear the thought of being the servant of another's will, unable to think and act for herself.

Ember's eyes lifted back to Hawke to find the older woman watching her carefully, her deep-set eyes studying her like a hawk. Ember shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"He covets you," Hawke finally said, breaking the silence.

Ember blinked. "What?"

"The thing called Cole," Hawke clarified. "He covets you."

A strangled heat clogged Ember's throat and grew thick in her chest. She willed herself not to fidget. "Why do you say that?"

Hawke gave her a pointed look. "It's obvious with the way he stares at you. His eyes left you not once during the enter meeting."

Ember shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Cole is a… a precious friend."

Hawke's eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Be careful, Ember," she warned harshly. "Do you know what one does when one covets?"

Something anxious twisted deep in Ember's gut at the other woman's ominous words.

"They yearn to possess," Hawke continued tersely. "That's what demons do. Possess. Do not forget that."

The Champion of Kirkwall turned on her heel and threw the door open.

"Do not make the same mistake Anders did. I have seen more than my share of abominations. It is never worth the cost."

And with that, Hawke was gone.

Ember stared at the door as it slowly closed behind the Champion of Kirkwall. Unease twisted through her insides as she thought on Hawke's words. She'd assumed that possession required a spell or a ritual, especially when that spirit or demon was outside of the Fade. But it appears she'd been wrong. It could happen with just a slight opening of her mind. She didn't realize how easily it could happen. Perhaps it could even happen unintentionally. And that thought frightened her more than anything ever had as her thoughts shifted to her relationship with Cole.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Cole's voice slid out of the shadows behind her. "She doesn't like me."

Ember didn't turn around. Being a spirit medium, she'd known he was there the entire time. Still, she wanted confirmation. "You heard everything?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "She wants to see him again." His voice lowered to a whisper. "She wants to die."

Ember's eyes fell to stare glumly down at the ground. "I know."

Author's Note: Before you all throw things at me through your computer screens, please let me defend myself. If you haven't noticed, I'm a huge Dragon Age fan. I loved how both Hawke and Alistair showed up in Dragon Age 3 and played pretty big roles. However, being a huge Hawke and Fenris fan, it killed me to learn that Hawke had left Fenris, even though she said in the game it was because she didn't want him to die protecting her. And then, Bioware killed me again when I was in the Fade and had to decide whether to kill Hawke or Alistair. I'm also a huge Alistair fan, so I seriously sat on my couch staring at the TV for over five minutes trying to decide what to do. In the end, I let Hawke die. Bioware murdered me again when after that, Varric told my Inquisitor how he had to send Fenris a letter letting him know about Hawke's death. Okay, if you don't think that is brutal, then I don't know what is. At least in my version Hawke only has to live a week without Fenris, and then they are reunited. Okay, now you can throw things at me through your computer screens. Be gentle. I love you all!