Chapter Text





Scowls, glowers, and sullen pouts teemed and swarmed about me. Whereas I once traversed Haven in bolstered strides, I had returned to wade through a grimacing tide. I was condemned, but the villagers no longer mattered to me, not Adan's men nor the Herald. Coming back from my "political" mission, my thoughts stuck exclusively to the mages with whom I had been raised--they who had also rebelled from the Circle where frowning faces had been the norm. The templars I saw at Therinfal were no different than they who had kept me confined in the fortress of Magi. As far as I was concerned, one platoon had scraped their shields against their swords in the anticipation of slaying Envy while the other kept their sharpened blades within the reach of every helpless, magic heart. To me, that was the sole difference between the two assemblies. They, however, would have claimed to share a common enemy in volatile magic--the hypothetical which warranted the magically-talented to be stripped of their families and their rights. We were considered hazards simply for having been born! We were considered too fragile to guard ourselves, as if we possessed a side outside of our own command--too susceptible to the darkness within the fade! The temperance our kind had "mandated" could have, apparently, only been brought about by governing templars--they who wielded swords over staves and took lyrium to shield them from that same darkness. Had the red variant not proven that those of all walks of life could easily be overthrown by their own human temptations? If I were to be consulted, I would argue that a templar who succumbed to lyrium's vices was of a danger equal to that of a mage flirting with possession. The events at Therinfal were indisputable evidence of this!



Why then, even after the Herald truly had consulted my opinion, was I being scorned? Had he not said that the inquisition had needed my services? That he had wanted me to pass judgement on the brigade of addicts? Well, after Envy had emerged from my head in its true form--naked, boneless, blinded, and grotesque--it had been killed. All doubts about the altruistic spirit who had rescued me were eradicated, for when Envy had fallen, Cole had remained standing, daggers hanging at his sides until the demon's death was confirmed. In that moment, I could no longer mistake him for a subordinate or a hoax, and, perhaps having read my thoughts on the matter, he had beamed at me before vanishing as per habit. That was all the conviction I had needed to realize that spirits were not the enemy--rather, the true, imminent threat laid within reddened lyrium the soldiers who had not questioned it. I had done as the Herald had requested: I gave a swift verdict which sealed their fate. It had been the only logic conclusion for someone who had seen all that I had, but to those who hadn't been there, to those who hadn't seen the effects of red lyrium or felt Envy thrash within the confines of their skulls, disbanding the templar union was seen as nothing more than an evil acted out by fade-harnessing hands. Treason.



I knew it was for exactly that reason I had been called to meet with the Herald, but I was no longer awe-struck over such a prospect. He had failed to close the breach, failed to investigate the meeting with the Lord Seeker, and though he had asked me for my honest judgement of the templars, now he was to blame me for the backlash. I had nearly been possessed in the name of an ill-sighted inquisition that could not protect its people. If I was to be banished, I would accept the punishment with ease. I waded out of the pool of piercing glares and into the chantry, strutted briskly down the corridor, and threw open the door to the war room.



"You summoned me again, ser Herald?" I snarled ever-so subtly. "I suspect this has to do with--oh!"



I had been peering down at the dwarf with a wicked squint and it had taken me a moment to realize that several soldiers, including Commander Cullen and Seeker Pentaghast, had their blades drawn and pointed toward the war table. The compressed bodies obstructed my view of their target, and so I briefly believed that they intended to tie me to the wooden slab and torture me. That potential outcome was enough to erase my former apathy.



"Um...Let's not do anything too hasty?" I flashed a nervous grin.



"Why shouldn't we?" asked the Herald, unmoved. "He was the one who showed great 'haste' by materializing inside of a closed room!"



"He? Who are you tal--?" I pushed one of the soldiers aside using my elbow, and once my view of the scene was clear, found myself staring at a familiar hat. "Cole!" A quick smile sprung upon my lips--in earnest this time--before I realized what was happening. "Why the hell are you aiming your swords at Cole?! Lower them at once!"



"Disregard that!" Cullen ordered his men and I did my best at conveying my ice to him through a dirty look. The pretty-boy hadn't been too eager to be in my presence after learning I was subject to a possession-attempt. "This...thing claims to know you, Trevelyan and, considering you just addressed him with a name, I'm assuming he's not wrong?"



I looked to the Herald, but he was silent, his thin brows knitted together as he awaited my explanation.



"Herald, you know Cole as well!" I accused.



"I've never seen this man...thing...boy?-- In my life!"



For once, he didn't seem to be putting on an act, but I persisted. "It was Cole who provided us with information on the plot against the Empress Celene's life! He was the one who came to our aid in the fight against Envy! He--he yielded daggers and weaved in and out of sight! Surely you recognize him now?! He's a hero and your men are brandishing their weapons at him like he's our foe!"



"It's okay." Cole mumbled into his knees, which he'd huddled under his chin. He rocked back and forth, eyes fixated on an arbitrary space in the map of Ferelden. "It's not their fault they don't remember. I didn't let them see me. People normally don't see me until I let them."



"Oh." I felt myself deflate. His little disappearing act is more intricate than I thought. They won't believe me even if I try to explain this.



"What is he talking about?!" Seeker Pentaghast demanded. "If he's a demon, I want him executed right. NOW."



"Can we all just calm down, please?!" I shouted. "I...I'll admit I don't know exactly what Cole is, but if he had any link to Envy, he would have died right along with him. As someone who's had a real demon skulk about inside her, I'll ask you to trust me when I say Cole isn't one. Now let's put those blades down and talk like civilized adults. And Cole? Get off the war table, for Andraste's sake."



"Yes." Cole said as the glinting silver was lowered from his neck. "I don't belong here--I'm not a war."



I stifled a laugh, but to everyone else in the room, Cole's appeal to literal language made him all the more baffling.



"Great. So far all he's told us is that templars 'don't like to be late' and that he's not a war. I don't care about what he's not. I care about what he is."



"I understand your frustration, but this isn't something I can summarize so quickly. Cole seems like a spirit, but he isn't possessing a body that I can sense. He entered my mind along with the Envy demon and helped me resist it. He had the opportunity to let me die--even kill me!--dozens of times, but he kept offering to help. He saw what Envy planned for the inquisition and heard everything Envy said about the Elder One, but he fought against it all. I really do believe he's good-natured. I mean, if demons exist, I'd be willing to bet that other spirits exist of the opposite spectrum?"



"Pure speculation!" Seeker Pentaghast objected. Lelianna followed.



"Your original recount of events mentioned nothing about this Cole. I don't sense a threat from him either, but it seems like he may be having an influence over your mind, Trevelyan."



I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "Yeah...I skirted around that issue." I admitted. "In my recount, I said a 'motivating force' guided me through the ordeal, but I had been referring to Cole. I just...I didn't think it would be a good idea to claim that I was helped by a teleporting spirit-boy. I...Didn't want anyone else to suggest that I had hit my head."



It was Leliana's turn to laugh. "I've heard those rumours floating about!"



Cole was standing behind me patiently, rocking to a rhythm within his heels. Now flustered by the return of the concussion-talk, I asked him,



"Is there anything you'd like to say to our people?" He instantly locked his gaze with Cassandra and began to wring his hands. I raised a warning eyebrow at her and assured him, "I won't let them hurt you."



His breath immediately steadied. "Thank you," he sighed, then scanned the entire room, face by face. "You help people. You made them safe when they would have died. I want to do that. I can help!"



Ah, is he talking about how we saved Ser Barris? I suppose he truly does watch as much as he claimed.



Slightly more relaxed, the Herald grumbled, "but how can you help?"



"The hole in the sky makes it too loud for spirits to think. It's pulling, pushing out pain...I want to stop it. I...I can be hard to see! I can kill things that would hurt other people! I won't get in the way!"



"It's true!" I vouched. "He fought Envy and apparently I was the only one who noticed! I know it's not much to go on since I was the only audience member, but it was impressive. He's quick with those daggers of his!"



"Charming!" cried Cullen. "Even if he is helpful, you're suggesting we give free reign of the camp to a sneaking spirit with dagger skills?"



Leliana cut in on my behalf. "We could have people watch the boy, and the incoming templars know how to deal with magical enemies should we have any complications."



The Herald stroked his beard with a pensive hum. "An excellent point. In fact, Trevelyan, since you seem so keen, why don't we have you watch the boy?"



"The thing was in her mind!" Seeker Pentaghast blurted out of turn. "You're suggesting we leave them alone together?!"



"If they are plotting anything--and I don't believe they are--it would be easier for my people to discern their plot if we were to observe the patterns in their interactions."



Perhaps I had misjudged Leliana. She seemed quite content to back an apostate and the troubled apparition that had followed her home.



"It's settled then!" announced the Herald. "Trevelyan, Cole is now yours to monitor! I'll take you on your word once more--consider it my sincerest apology for endangering you at the Redoubt."



"I-but-wait!"



With the same speed as they had displayed concerning the demise of Madame de Fer, everyone disbanded, leaving my jaw agape and Cole kicking at the stone flooring with a pleased demeanor.



"We get to be together in the watching this time! It will make much more sense than the hearing." He rejoiced with a shuddering at his own final statement. Still in shock, I had to swallow before my dry throat would let me reply.



"I-I...ugh. I wouldn't be so sure about t-that, Cole."



Sweet Maker!



"For now...Have you ever been to a tavern?"



--



"Their faces follow yours--harsh, hurtful, humiliating--they bother you."



We didn't end up staying at Flissa's. On her part, service had been no more bumbling than usual, however, the patrons of the establishment had made me feel increasingly uncomfortable. In addition to the bitter environment, Sera had been there. After all she had done for me in the fray of battle, I couldn't bring myself to look at her. If she was among those with whom I had fallen out of favor, I did not wish to know. As I wandered, dejected, around the stronghold, Cole had found a way to keep himself occupied. I was not a fan.



"They all hate me." I shrugged. "I disbanded the templar order because they had been too submissive and careless to recognize danger. All they see," I gestured to the dispersed crowds of pilgrims and villagers, "is an apostate who took an opportunity to gain vengeance from her former captives. To be honest with you...they might not be wrong."



My staff crunched down upon the snow with every pace we took. Cole watched it bob with a fascinated intensity. I got the impression that he wasn't fond of eye contact, but how could he be between his unkempt hair and floppy hat?



"They don't...hate you." He paused between his words tentatively, as if weighing the taste of each of them on his tongue. "They're frightened. Like Envy. They say your decisions are different than your look. You limp about, but able are the lips they see--lithe and lawful. They don't know that you burn behind them. They can't feel how loud you are inside..." A pause, "You should show them. They might understand that way."



"Again with 'loud'? You called me that before. What do you mean by that?"



"I heal the helpless. Give hope where there is hurt. I have to hear hurt before I can help. Your head was louder than Leliana's before you even entered the chantry, and she was close to me! But...not as close as Cassandra's sword. You were louder than the sword, too."



"...Oh. Shit. You can read minds here too." I stopped in my tracks and shuffled my feet. I wished we had gotten some wine after all. "Look, Cole, I don't want anyone to fix me or anything, okay? You're here to help the inquisition, not me. I don't need that."



"I'm sorry." Cole said, still looking at the base of my staff, a hint of frustration wrinkling his forehead in the wake of its stillness. "I say it wrong sometimes. I did that, didn't I? I can make you forget, if that helps. I can start again. I-," a quick blink, "oh! I can make you forget about earlier too, when I came to help with Envy. That way, the story you told Leliana won't be a lie anymore."



It was my turn to be concerned. I looked over at him and made eye contact, sincerity heavy in my voice. "Cole, you helped me at Therinfal. I wouldn't have survived without you. Leliana didn't mind a white lie and I don't, either. I don't want to forget that and you don't deserve to have that forgotten. And...No, you didn't say anything wrong. What you said was the truth. I'm...not the cheeriest person, but I'd like to try to beat my inner-demons on my own, if that's okay. You can say things however you want to say them. I might have to ask questions, but I'll accept your opinions. I owe you that much at least."



"I helped!" Cole's mouth, which seemed to rest at a slight downward angle permanently, stretched into a wide smile. "It's good to hear. I will try, and you will try, too."



I smiled back, semi-weakly. "Yeah, I hope so."





Just as I had resumed the motion in my staff, there was a rustling in the nearby shrubbery. Gripping the hilt of my cane-turned-scepter-of-sorcery, I motioned for Cole to be quiet as I approached it, but he, in turn, shushed me.



"Don't," he whispered, "it's a friend."



Sure enough, not two moments later, a pink, sniffling nug made a startled grand entrance from the bush to the interception of our path. Cole had somehow gotten himself a strand of elfroot in a matter of micro-seconds and he tried to offer it to the creature, but it scuttled away. I couldn't keep myself from giggling as Cole's suddenly brightened demeanour had shifted to something postively forlorn.



"Like nugs, do you? It's okay. There are plenty around here you can make friends with. For now, we can give that elfroot to the healers. That would be very helpful to them."



Cole nodded. "I'd like that."



We turned around, following our own footsteps in the snow as we began the small tread to Adan's hut. Seeker Pentaghast seemed to be heading the same way, but she turned abruptly on her boots and promptly marched off in the opposite direction. Others took notice and began leering. I suspected they couldn't see Cole, and so his unusual fashion sense could not have been to blame. I was the unpopular one and it left me feeling rather crestfallen.



"Cole?" I mumbled absent-mindedly as my gaze followed a little girl. Hand-in-hand with who I presumed to be her mother, she kept turning back to stare at me, face scrunched up like a raisin. Was it my reputation or my walking?



"Yes?"



"You said the nug was your friend even though you didn't hear its thoughts for very long."



"Nugs are quiet, I like them, and that one didn't want to hurt us. It just didn't want to be hurt. People hurt them, but they don't hurt people. Nugs are friendly."



"Um, right...So, would you say that you and I...Would you call us friends?"



Call it loneliness or impetuosity, but for whatever reason I so badly wanted Cole to say yes, it wasn't admiration. Maybe I wasn't so hardened by the conditions of the Circle--maybe I longed for...congregation? Intimacy? Approval? What was it that people got out of friendships and families again?



My question seemed to puzzle Cole a great deal. He really thought about it, twisting the stem of the elfroot between his fingers and rendering it limp.



"Hmmm..." he mused. "I don't know? I don't think so...but....maybe? I had friends before...But friends teach and travel and talk, then they turn. You aren't like them--aren't like that. Not yet, anyway."



Ouch.



"I...I'm sorry Cole. I distracted you. I...uh...don't think that elfroot is very useful anymore."



Cole looked down at the herb interwoven between his knuckles. "Oh...But the nugs will still eat it if I wait long enough!"



He was quite the optimist, almost painfully so.



"Maybe." I tried my best to sound encouraging. "You can keep trying--I think I'll go rest for the night. It's been a...busy day for me."



"But you haven't eaten supper yet!" Cole protested. "Will the Herald be angry if you're not watching me?"



I smirked. "I have a feeling Leliana's people would be better equipped to catch you if you started running, Cole. Or maybe better unequipped, since they wouldn't need staves." The joke eluded the poor spirit. "Goodnight, Cole."





--



My quarters had never been large, but I preferred them that way. Originally, I had shared a sleeping-space with dozens or more female refugees, but even when I was transferred to a new chamber solely intended for mages, the others had been unsettled by me. Whether it had to do with my nobility or the fact that I hadn't killed any templars during the initial rebellion, I was eventually relocated to an area the side of a broom closet, near the upper regions of the chantry. The only amenity it boasted which could separate it from a cell was a small window without bars. Still, the arrangement was functional, and I was able to wind myself into a linen embrace with my bedsheets--my favoured position on a difficult night.



I didn't know what to make of my new life. It seemed to be such a small improvement from the Circle, despite all it's freedoms. In the Circle, we were all despised equally, never individually, and we found contentment in a state that was both together and apart. The little free time made us appreciate silence and one was never faulted for her shyness. The Circle enchanters were warm enough, and though certain templars had a flare for abuse, it was a routine life. There was comfort to be found in the predictability of it all, and since I could have faith in the fact that nothing would change, I never allowed myself to be open to hope or its betrayals.



Haven was entirely opposite. My actions were being watched, but I had no instruction. I was individually monitored and individually evaluated. I was getting ambushed by meetings and spirits and possessions and...buckets! Everything at Haven had been a test and I feared that I was failing.



But you would have failed your harrowing too, had the rebellion not happened before you were due for it! I scolded myself for thinking my fate at the Circle would be any better. Whatever they do in harrowings, you've already proven you're weak against opposing magical forces! You would have been killed by a templar or, best case scenario, made tranquil, and that is no life all the same!



The more I pondered it, the more tranquility seemed like my only viable option. I would forever be vulnerable and hated if I remained connected to the fade. My emotions, my dreams, the things that weighed me down in times of pressure--they could all be taken away by tranquility!



But no circle, not in all of the Free Marches, would have ever accepted my appeal to be made tranquil. The Ostwick fortress had hated the double-liability of a lame mage, but they hated blood magic more. They would have never let me. They would have sooner sentenced me to my death via harrowing. They would have been happier to see me dead, probably from the very start, and it would be no different had I been born normally--I would have been a shame to my household as well...



Was death the only favour I could do the world?



There once was another way...I could go back, but--



"You tried teaching yourself so you could heal your hurt--the hurt you thought they had--but it was hard. You'd have to go to Tevinter to find another one."



The voice in the darkness made my limps jump and flail beneath their bindings. Automatically, I sent fire from my palm straight to the wick of the bedside candle. It was a wonder that, in spite of my panic, I hadn't set the barrel below it ablaze.



"GAH! ANDRASTE'S TITS, COLE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"



"You shouldn't yell. Other people are trying to sleep now, too."



"YOU SHOULDN'T JUST BE...POOFING BEHIND LOCKED DOORS."



"But...You didn't eat. It's hard to sleep when you're hungry. If you're not sleeping, you get loud from trying to sleep. Especially you."



I noticed that, by the doorway, he had left a plate containing bread, a bowl of soup, and an apple. I assumed he had used his particular talents to lift food from the kitchen. I regretted yelling at him, it was a kind gesture, but I was not in a state of mind that allowed me to have an appetite.



"Thank you, Cole, really. I'm sorry for yelling...Um, you really should respect locks...But it was nice of you to bring me food! I don't really feel like eating right now, but you're welcome to anything in the kitchen, too. Why don't you eat it?"



"I don't eat," he said plainly, "those are old songs." He began to rock again, but in the dim candle light, I couldn't make out which direction had captivated his focus. "You are hungry, you're just saying you're not. The songs pull you in weird ways, too."



"There's a difference between being hungry and not wanting to eat." I did my best to remain calm with him. "I'm sorry, I just don't want it."



"You don't have to let the blood magic stop you from eating. You're not bad because of it. You didn't learn it to hurt people."



With more effort, unraveling, and struggling than I'd care to admit, I rose from the bed and grabbed the candle, moving in jerks without my staff as I approached Cole.



"That is enough!" I snarled. "I told you I didn't want you to fix me, I told you I didn't want your food, and now I'm telling you to get out!"



"I-I'm sorry! I said it wrong! Forget!" Cole cried, then a nothingness hung between us.



"What are you waiting for?! You already said you weren't my friend, so just get out already!"



"Why isn't it working?!" Cole's loudness suddenly matched my own. "Y-you can't forget? Why can't you forget?!"



"I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care!" I shrieked. "Take your food and go!"



Cole's seemed too taken aback to make noise. I picked up the bowl of soup with my free hand and was prepared to launch it straight at his hat when a breeze lifted the hem of my white nightgown. I was too preoccupied to hold it down, but something else wasn't right. Where had that gust come from? I turned my hand so that the candle's flame would illuminate the wall at Cole's back.



"Why did you open my windooooOHSWEETMAKER!" I dropped the soup bowl, sending shards of porcelain and a steaming liquid to litter the floorboards. "WHY ARE THERE UNPEELED PLUMS ON MY WINDOW SILL AND HOW IN ANDRASTE'S NAME ARE THEY ATTRACTING FLIES THIS LATE IN THE EVENING?"



Suddenly cured of his paralysis, Cole chimed in. "Spiders need to eat, too!"



"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, YOU BROUGHT SPIDERS IN HERE?! I NEARLY BURNED DOWN THE CHANTRY TRYING TO KILL THEM ALL WHEN I CAME! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! I HATE SPIDERS!"



"Fire, arrows, heights, spiders...You don't like a lot of things, Emmeline."



"YEAH? WELL YOU CAN TAKE THAT LIST AND GO ADD YOURS-- Wait...What did you just call me?"



"You use the fire when it wants to help you, even if it helps you hurt the spiders...Why not the templars at the Seeker Fortress?"



"Cole!"



"Oh! I called you by your name. Emmeline. Your mother named you that because she thought it would suit a young lady, but she could still call you things that wouldn't while you weren't one. Emmy, Linnie, Emme...She thought you were beautiful, even when you came out crooked."



I felt a knot form in my throat as he tapped his feet on the ground, crushing one of the soup-bowl pieces into an even tinier fragment, then picking up the more jagged piece to examine it. "She wouldn't have wanted you to think about the blood magic. She didn't like the magic at all, but she would have liked the blood magic less."



"Cole...I...How did you...?" I trailed off and went to grab his arm, to bring him close, to say I was sorry. The billowing of my nightgown didn't matter anymore. The minefield of glass around my bare feet didn't concern me anymore than the sticky remnants of their previous contents did. All that had mattered was remembering how Cole was a spirit who helped, and I had tried to deny him that. To tell him what was wrong. To paint him as deformed. Yes, that was all that had mattered...



...Until I felt a foreboding crawling sensation at my ankle.



"SHIT! SPIDER, SPIDER, SPIDER, SPIDER!" I wailed and slipped, slicing my leg on one of the many sharp witnesses to the pitiful scene. "OW! SERIOUSLY?!"



"Don't hurt it!" Cole begged as he, in horror, watched me ruffle and toss the lace of my skirt. I squinted in the direction where I thought he would be standing. The candle had been extinguished in my tumble, but it hadn't scorched anything on the way down. Gown now bloodied, soup-stained, and contaminated by arachnid essence, I growled,



"Damn it, Cole, trust me. The spider is not the one you should be worried about right now."