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The main hall of Skyhold's keep had been largely neglected; the space itself wasn't needed for shelter or food preparation or defense, so it had been lower down on everyone's list of tasks to accomplish. But now, Josephine said as the advisors and Bridget met over a cup of coffee at a campfire, it was time to make the Inquisition a place with some dignity and solidity, and that meant dealing with the main hall.

The four of them climbed the steps to the grand wooden doors that held the hall closed, and then the others stood back and let Bridget open them. She hesitated a moment, worried she wouldn't be strong enough, then pushed, and the doors opened at her touch, dust rising inside at the influx of air, then settling slowly. She led the way in, looking around her at the debris. It wasn't terrible, or so she hoped.

"What do you think, Cullen? Will this take a lot of work?"

"Hopefully not. The roof seems sound enough, and the rest of it appears mostly cosmetic."

"I will bring Sherice in as soon as we are finished here, and I am certain she will know where to begin," Josephine said, making a note on her clipboard.

Bridget thought about asking why Cassandra wasn't with them, and decided that was a question best posed to Cassandra herself, later.

Cullen looked around them, a brightness in his face Bridget hadn't seen before. "So this is where it begins," he said. "Where we come together as one Inquisition."

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana corrected him. With her hood up, her face was in shadow; she looked almost frightening. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

"There is a room off here that would make for an excellent War Room, hidden deep within the keep and hard to get at from the outside," Josephine said. "So we have a place to start from, but we don't know where to go from here. All we know about Corypheus is that he wanted your mark."

They were all looking at her now, waiting for her to take charge. Didn't they know she didn't know what she was doing? Bridget looked down at her hand with the mark shining in it, then closed her fist, taking a deep breath. "Corypheus claims to want to restore Tevinter. Is this the beginning of war with the Imperium?"

Cullen shook his head. "These Venatori seem more like an isolated group of extremists, rather than the vanguard of a true invasion."

"If the Imperium were going to war, would they begin in the Frostback Mountains, far to the south of them?" Leliana said. "It seems inefficient, at best … and we would have to know if they were arriving in significant numbers."

The question of how they had missed the Templars in their significant numbers hung in the air, but Bridget let it go.

"There is also the fact that what Corypheus wants to restore no longer exists," Josephine offered. "It's no longer the Imperium of a thousand years ago. He may run into trouble internally trying to restore it to that point. Although … certainly they would shed no tears if the south fell to chaos."

"And the dragon?" Bridget asked. "Could it really be an Archdemon? Is there a Blight in the offing?"

Cullen looked at her. "What does Blackwall say?"

Shaking her head, Bridget said, "I get the impression he has been so far from the other Wardens for so long that he no longer knows. I can ask him for more detail regarding the Fifth Blight. Or, perhaps, we could ask to speak to the king and queen of Ferelden, who certainly would know an Archdemon if they saw one."

"We have seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself—I would hesitate to leap to the conclusion that it must be a Blight," Josephine said. "Perhaps it is something different than an Archdemon?"

"Could he have tamed a high dragon?" Cullen sounded rather impressed. "Still, whatever it is, it's dangerous, and gives Corypheus an advantage we can't ignore."

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back. "We do have one advantage of our own. We know what Corypheus intends to do next." She looked up at Bridget. "In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated."

"Yes, that's true. So … we have to protect the Empress?" Bridget frowned. "How do we do that?"

"Let's not forget the massive force of demons he somehow had gained in that same future," Cullen reminded them. "We should discover how he managed that."

Bridget sighed. "Someone, somewhere, must know more about Corypheus."

From the open doorway, a familiar voice rasped, "I know someone who can help with that."

They all turned to see Varric leaning there. Bridget wondered how long he had been listening and what he had heard. Then again, Varric's spy network was almost as good as Leliana's—he probably knew quite a bit more than they thought he did.

He came toward them. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. I think he can help."

"I'm always looking for new allies," Bridget told him. "Introduce me."

"Oh, I will. He should be here in a few days; I'll let you know when he arrives." He looked around at the others, hesitating and looking unusually uncomfortable. "But just you. It's a little bit … complicated. He won't want to parade around and … cause a fuss."

"All right."

Varric didn't seem quite satisfied with her reaction, and clearly was uncomfortable with Leliana's scrutiny. He turned and left, quickly.

Once he was gone, Leliana chuckled. "If Varric has brought who I think he has, Cassandra is going to kill him."

"Who do you think?" Bridget asked.

"Who else?" Cullen shrugged. "Hawke."

"The Champion of Kirkwall Hawke?" The idea of meeting such a legend, along with the idea she had floated earlier of contacting the heroes of the Fifth Blight, currently sitting on the throne of Ferelden, made Bridget almost dizzy.

"The same," Leliana confirmed. "Won't that be interesting."

"In the meanwhile," Josephine said, trying to bring them back to the topics at hand, "I will contact Orlais and find out how we can gain an audience with Celene."

"I will investigate the lay of the land there and see from what corner danger seems most likely to strike," Leliana added.

"And I will do my best to find out how one creates an army of demons." Cullen frowned. "That seems unlikely to be easy."

It was on the tip of Bridget's tongue to ask them all what she was to do … but that would hardly be Inquisitorial of her. They were counting on her to lead. "Very well, then. Report to me with your findings. I will … find Sherice and get her started in here."

Outside, she headed for the sound of the loudest hammering, finding Sherice barking orders inside the structure that was going to become the tavern. The elf turned around, bowing hastily, when Bridget approached. "Inquisitor. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You can stop bowing, Sherice, for the Maker's sake! You're doing better work here than I am, for certain. I should be bowing to you for the fact that there's a roof over my head and hot food being cooked."

"Yes, Inquisitor." Sherice only just barely stopped herself from bowing again, and Bridget sighed. This was going to take some getting used to.

"I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to come look at the main keep with me. The hall looks to be in decent shape, and Josephine says there's a room we could use as a War Room."

"Oh, there is. And so much more!" Sherice said. She nodded at the workmen to get back to what they were doing. "Underneath the hall there's an area perfect for a workshop. Ah, that reminds me." She grabbed the shoulder of a passing soldier. "You, can you go get Blacksmith Harritt? Tell him to meet us in the main hall of the keep."

The soldier glanced at Bridget for confirmation, then hurried off.

Sherice led the way back up the stairs toward the keep. "The hall itself is in good shape, and the chimneys work, or they will after a little repointing, which will be nice on cold evenings. Off this way," she gestured to the right, "is a space for the library, below what Sister Nightingale has claimed for her birds. Here at the end of the room, we'll build a little platform, and that can be your seat when you must sit in judgment."

Sit in judgment? That was one part of an Inquisitor's duties Bridget had apparently not given enough consideration to. But she wasn't about to admit that to Sherice. She nodded, instead. "That sounds like a good idea."

"And up above," Sherice went on enthusiastically, "there's a lovely space, very private and secluded, just perfect for your quarters. Just tell me what you want, and I'll put it in."

Bridget frowned. What she wanted? She thought back to the Circle, to the narrow bed, the single trunk for her changes of robes and few other personal items, the thin walls … She had taken those as normal because they were all she'd ever known. What did she know about what she wanted? But Sherice was waiting, smiling, for an answer, and so Bridget mustered up a smile of her own and thanked the elf for everything she'd done for the Inquisition.

Harritt had come in and was approaching the two of them, and Sherice greeted him cheerily. "You ready to look over your space?"

"Looking forward to it." He bowed to Bridget. "Inquisitor, have you seen it yet?"

"No. Why don't you show me?"

Harritt led the way through the door and down a set of steps into a cavern below the main keep. He stood looking around him with a smile of satisfaction. "No more burning buildings for me. I've walked away from a few too many for one lifetime. You can have all the fire you want down here, and it wouldn't reach the main building."

Bridget paced the area—it seemed ideally suited, a broad expanse of flat stone, but the end was open to the weather. It was a beautiful view—a waterfall that spilled down to a river that snaked across the wintry valleys of the Frostbacks—but it would be awfully cold.

She said as much to Harritt, who snorted. "With all due respect, Inquisitor, you've clearly never spent a lot of time in a forge. Beastly hot and miserable, half the time. A bit of natural ventilation cooling down the place? Just what we'll need."

"Well, if you're sure …"

"It'll be all right," he assured her. "Hardly needs any work at all. We can set up shop tomorrow and be right back in business by the next day. It'll feel good to get a hammer in my hand again." He nodded. "It'll be better than Haven ever could have been. Not the way any of us wanted an upgrade, but … ever forward."

"Yes." Bridget smiled. "Ever forward. It's a good motto."

"This place down here—it was built for something big, almost like it was just waiting for the Inquisition. We'll do our best for you, Inquisitor." He hesitated, then said, "That's strange to say. You were just Bridget before."

"It's even stranger to hear," Bridget told him. "Largely because I still am 'just Bridget' … only with a fancier title."

"You keep to that, then. We need you level."

"I don't know any other way to be."

"And thank the Maker for that," Sherice put in. "I … never had much dealing with mages before, but you—you make them look good."

"Thank you," Bridget responded, warmed all through. "I hope I can continue to do so. In the meantime, I'll let you both get back to work."

They nodded at her before beginning to confer on what remained to be done down here, and she climbed the steps back to the main hall.

As she walked, she thought of Leliana, of the darkness in her since Haven. That couldn't be good for the Inquisition, or for Leliana herself. Bridget turned her steps through the empty space where workmen were building shelves for the library and climbed the stairs up to the Rookery.

Cullen was there, handing a scroll to Leliana. The two of them shared a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry," Leliana whispered.

"So am I." He passed Bridget with a small nod, and she could see a tear glistening on his cheek.

She looked inquiringly at Leliana, who said, "A list of those we lost." She swallowed visibly. "You must blame me for this."

"You seem to be doing a fine job blaming yourself; you don't need me to do so as well." Bridget shook her head. "We all saw who attacked us; we know exactly who to blame."

Leliana turned away from her, head and shoulders drooping. "When the first of my lookouts went missing, I pulled the rest back, awaiting more information. I didn't want to risk their lives. But if they'd stayed in the field, they could've bought the rest of us more time. Perhaps more lives would have been saved in Haven."

"You can't know that. Perhaps the lookouts would have died and nothing would have changed."

"My people know their duty. They know the risks!" Leliana cried. Bridget was surprised at the depth of pain in the spymaster's voice—not that she felt it, but that she was displaying it so openly. "They understand that the Inquisition may call upon them to give their lives."

"Our people aren't tools to be used and discarded," Bridget argued. "We exist for them as much as for anyone else; we have a duty to look to their safety and well-being as best we can. Your instincts were right—their lives matter."

Leliana looked at her, and Bridget was chilled, reminded of the way the spymaster had come to look like one of her own birds, cruel and predatory, in that dark future. She couldn't let that happen to Leliana, and with her, the Inquisition. "Can we afford such sentimentality?" Leliana whispered. "What if Corypheus—"

"We are better than Corypheus."

"I—if you say so." Leliana sighed.

"Can I help in any way?"

"No." Standing up straighter, Leliana's voice strengthened. "I will take your words, and your orders, to heart, Inquisitor. You may depend on me."

"I'm glad." Bridget left her to get back to work. Remembering the tear on Cullen's face, she looked for him next, finding him in the courtyard standing over a pile of reports. A group of soldiers surrounded him, and he was barking orders. Bridget stopped to watch for a moment, sensing that work was a greater healing balm to Cullen than anything else could be at this juncture. Only when the soldiers scattered and he was alone did she approach.

Cullen turned to look at her, jumping immediately to business. "We could never have prepared for an Archdemon, or whatever that thing was, at Haven. But here … well, if Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw. And I wouldn't want to. We must be ready."

"Cullen, we were all shaken by what happened."

"Perhaps. But … I was the Commander." He left it at that. Bridget knew what a terrible burden of guilt he carried, how much he blamed himself, and she knew that only more work, and some success, would comfort him. "We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

"No," she assured him, "we won't. And remember, most of our people made it to Skyhold in the end. It could have been much worse."

"Thanks to you." He smiled at her. "Morale was low there for a while, but has improved greatly since you took on the role of Inquisitor."

"It's only been a day. I think morale has been improving since you and Josephine took on the role of building up Skyhold."

Cullen chuckled. "Perhaps."

Bridget looked down at her hands, at the glow of the Anchor. "Everyone has so much faith in my leadership—more than I do, by far. I only hope … I only hope I'm ready."

"Remember, you won't have to carry the Inquisition alone, even if it feels like it now." He nodded at her reassuringly. "We needed a leader; you have proven yourself. You fought off Corypheus, you led us to Skyhold, you have been out front speaking to people, becoming the face of the Inquisition, almost from the beginning. Whether you know it or not, you have earned this position many times over."

"Thank you." It was odd, being praised so by a Templar with little reason in his past to trust mages. Bridget found herself blushing a little, so she changed the subject. "If we need to start over, I'm glad Skyhold seems to be a good place to do it."

"Yes," Cullen agreed, "once repairs are complete, it will be a strong base of operations. When do you think you'll want to get out into the field again?"

Bridget considered that. "Another week, perhaps."

"Going forward, I will do everything I can to ensure the security of our people," Cullen told her, and she could see by the intensity on his face that he was remembering Haven. "You have my word."

"Your word is good enough for me," she assured him.

In the distance, she saw Blackwall, and she could feel her pulse speeding up. They had been spending a great deal of time together, but neither of them had spoken about that night in his quarters. He seemed on edge, uncomfortable, and she hadn't wanted to prod him to tell her what was going on because she felt he would be happier talking to her on his own time. But she was falling asleep at night dreaming of kissing him, dreaming of being held in his arms … and more. And from the look in his eyes occasionally, she thought he felt the same. At some point, they were going to have to discuss it.

Cassandra was closer, however, having a cup of coffee by the tables set out for eating, and Bridget wanted to know more about the former Seeker's decision to step back from the leadership of the Inquisition she had begun, so she went over and poured herself a cup as well.

As they sat down across from each other, Cassandra said, "I hear Varric has invited a 'friend' to visit. Do you know who it is?"

"No."

"It had better not be who I think it is. I'll wring the little bastard's neck."

"Varric's? Why?"

"Because I spent hours interrogating him, asking about Hawke, and he wasted time telling long exaggerated stories and claimed he didn't know how to find the Champion. If he knew all along and was lying …"

"You don't think he could have been trying to protect his friend?" Bridget asked.

"Perhaps. But the Inquisition—all of Thedas—desperately needed the Champion, and Varric lied to me!"

"You don't know that for certain. And you don't know what the Champion would have done if you had found him."

Cassandra clearly wanted to continue arguing, but she took a deep breath and nodded. "I will reserve judgment until I have met him. There is no need to have Varric screaming 'persecution' yet again."

"No, definitely not," Bridget agreed. She looked down at her cup, unsure how to ask the question she most wanted the answer to. At last, she decided that since Cassandra favored the blunt approach, that was the direction she would go. "You didn't join us for the meeting earlier."

"I am not part of the Inquisition's leadership."

"Why not? You began it!"

"Yes, I did. But I never had any intention of running it. I am …" She stopped, considering. "I was the Right Hand of the Divine. I did her bidding, and I like to think that I did it well. But I wouldn't have wanted to be the Divine. I am too … straightforward, too blunt, too impatient to be the leader of an organization such as this one. I do my best work in support of those who lead, and that is where I intend to remain. In support of you, wherever you feel my talents are best applied."

"As my Right Hand, then?"

"Something like that, yes. Although you are fortunate to have many hands. Cullen to raise the fist, Josephine to write the letters, Leliana to move secretly in the dark."

"Very fortunate," Bridget agreed. "So I didn't step into any place you consider your own?"

"No, not at all."

"And you aren't going to be worried that my decisions will be different than yours would be?"

"They will be, for certain. They already have been. And you have always had good reason for them." Cassandra nodded to her across the table. "You have had my support, and you will continue to have it, Inquisitor. I promise it to you."

"Thank you. That means more than I can tell you." Bridget smiled at her, and then changed the subject to a speculation on how long it would be until the road was completed and a steady stream of supplies began to come in. Both of them were longing for some real soap, having had to make do with a gloppy mess the kitchen had boiled down out of ashes since their arrival in Skyhold.

Blackwall leaned on the stone wall of the battlement, looking down at the courtyard where Bridget sat in animated conversation with Cassandra. Few people could bring the former Seeker out of her shell, but Bridget managed it quite neatly. She could bring anyone out of their shell, he thought. Not because she was particularly outgoing—he sensed that at heart she was fairly shy—but because she listened to what other people were saying, and she made an effort to respond to their interests and ideas.

He admired that about her. He admired her strength and courage and the stalwart way she'd stood up against everything that she had faced since he'd known her. He admired her heart and her brain and her slender body and her big blue eyes and her heavy coils of hair the color of tarnished gold.

He admired her. In every way, in every part. The hours that he spent with her were the happiest he had known since … since his youth, if he was being truly honest. Thom Rainier had been many things, but he had rarely been happy. Too busy wanting more and more and more, filling his hours with wine and women and fine foods and rich things, never enough of any of it, until finally he had gone too far. Much, much too far.

And because he had been Thom Rainier—was still Thom Rainier, underneath everything that he called Blackwall—he was a danger to the Inquisition. Worse, a danger to the Inquisitor. If he was discovered …

He should go, he told himself. He should leave the Inquisition and go back to the forests. He didn't really want to be here, surrounded by people, anyway.

But he did. Over and above his attraction to Bridget and his desire, his need, to keep her safe, he had found something more like a home here in the Inquisition than he'd experienced since he first left Markham when he was little more than a boy. Just standing here, he could see below him Cullen and Cassandra, with whom he had sparred quite a bit, picking up some new skills from their different styles.

He could see the Iron Bull barking orders at his Chargers. The big Qunari was a lot more intelligent than he looked—or acted—and they had enjoyed quite a few debates on topics large and small over their ales. The Chargers themselves had been happy to have Blackwall sit with them in their nightly keg-taps, even if he only joined in a few of the songs. And Sera, the strange little elf, seemed to have taken him on as a personal project, leaving little gifts and tokens in the barn where he had taken up residence. Horsemaster Dennet liked to have him there, keeping an eye on the horses. They were beautiful animals, and he had found a peace among them there in that barn that he had never expected to feel.

Could he really give all this up out of fear? He knew in his heart that he didn't want to … but he wasn't entirely certain it was up to him.