A/N: Wow I'm horrible at updating! Gosh... I really am sorry. I've been working on a lot of fan art but honestly neglecting my fanfiction... working on it here and there, but not working on it enough. I finally got out of that stupid rut though, and I expect that the next chapter will be out much quicker now that I'm fired up (and on spring break, no less). Suggestions in reviews are always welcome; the plot has a basic idea but is flexible to an extent.

Venethiel lodged her dagger into a demon's eye, twisting it and boring it deeper before she pulled it out. The demon writhed and used one of its clawed appendages to grasp at the site of its wound, screaming in pain as Venethiel jumped backwards to dodge the rest of the blood spurting. She grimaced and wiped the blood from her jaw. The rest of her company stood behind her, having already finished taking out their respective adversaries. The demon's body flared in fury and sputtered with flashes of fire before crumbling to a blackened dust in front of their eyes, and the female elf gave a satisfied "Ha!" as the ashes faded away.

"I think we're getting closer now, Inquisitor. There are more and more demons around here," Fenris observed. His green eyes darted from side to side for a brief moment, checking for any lingering enemies.

"Agreed. We need to find this demon and Hawke," Cassandra commented. Dorian nodded as he used a cloth to clean off the dirt that had caked onto his boots.

Venethiel looked down at the mark on her hand, flashing brightly and pulsing uncomfortably, almost painfully. It was definitely getting brighter and pulsing faster now, leaving an after image of the green spot in the middle of her vision when she looked away from it. She blinked several times as she let her hand fall to her side as her arms swung in time with her steps. Her companions followed behind her and Fenris fell in close to her side again, watching her mark with great intensity while still keeping an eye on where he was going.

Suddenly, Venethiel's footsteps stilled.

"Princess?" Dorian began, but she silenced him with a shush and gestured with her hand for them to halt. She crouched down and slowly pulled out one of her daggers, the metal scraping against its bindings almost deafeningly in contrast to the silent disquiet that had fallen. She crept forward, taking each step with care as she rolled on her feet one at a time softly onto the dirt. She relaxed herself and quietly slipped into stealth mode as she backed up against one of the tall columns. Even though she should have remained unseen, she was still cautious as she steadied her hands on the rock and slowly peered around. A form was staggering in the distance, much like the corpses and shades did, and Venethiel darted behind it, moving to place her dagger upon the being's throat. She still did not yet know the identity of her prey until her dagger was met by another as it thrust its dagger in between its body and Venethiel's weapon, pushing away and parrying with a loud clang! as it forced Venethiel's hand off of it. Venethiel jumped back in surprise and fumbled to regain her footing as she gripped her daggers in hand. She was facing her attacker's back now, and she recognized it as a female form that was now holding her dagger at her side. She whipped around to face Venethiel, and as Venethiel raised her glowing green hand up towards her, dagger clenched in hand, she could finally illuminate her face.

"Hawke!?"

It was Hawke's turn to jump now at the sound of her name, and she relaxed slightly. "Inquisitor." Venethiel could see that her face was littered with scratches both shallow and deep, and her skin was colorful with various bruises. Now that she had relaxed, she faltered and pressed a hand to a gaping wound on her side that was only just healing as it slowly oozed blood down her already stained gauntlets. She winced slightly at the contact, but kept the pressure there. Her turquoise eyes reflected the green light of the Anchor behind half closed lids. Despite her battered state, she still retained her sarcastic charm. "I was wondering when you would catch up," she commented with the slightest smirk. With her unoccupied hand, she sheathed the dagger she had drawn.

Venethiel eyed the woman carefully, assessing her wounds. "I doubt you could have outrun us. You don't look so good."

Hearing the clang of metal followed by the sound of voices, Fenris slowly began to stalk towards where the Inquisitor had gone. Varric protested with a tug at Fenris' arm, but Fenris shook him off and continued. He reached the pillar and peered around, and he felt his heart stop at the sight of two women talking peacefully. It was hard to discern anything in this light, but he could tell that one of them was slightly hunched over. Not taking the time to alert the three people behind him, he dashed from behind the pillar, his feet padding against the ground.

"Broody!" Varric hissed at him in a strained whisper.

"How did you intend to get out this time, Inquisitor?" Hawke asked. Her head tilted to the side slightly.

Venethiel looked quickly behind Hawke and just barely smiled. "Oh, I'm sure we'll find a way. We figured it out last time."

Hawke's brow furrowed. "What are you smiling at?" Before she could respond, she was whipped around by a pair of gauntleted hands that pulled her fast but carefully towards Fenris, who crashed his lips onto Hawke's. She was startled at first and gave a squeak but, upon realizing who it was, inhaled deeply and relaxed once more, kissing him back with equal force. Fenris' hands moved from her arms to her face, her back, and her shoulders, touching her as if he were making sure she were real and not a cruel illusion as he kissed her. Hawke reached her fingers up to gently brush his cheek as he finally pulled away, and she could see so much love and longing in his moss green eyes. He held her there, his hands on her arms as she rested her head on his chest.

"Hawke… Lyveisa… I…" Fenris stammered, searching for the appropriate words as his eyes grew misty.

Hawke chuckled quietly. "Just shut up and kiss me, you broody elf," she teased.

"Gladly," he replied with a smile before placing a finger under her chin and drawing her face up to his. He met her lips softly once more with his own as they melted lovingly into each other, oblivious to their rather unusual surroundings.

Venethiel watched them reunite, a sad smile on her face. She was so happy to see them together, to see the love both of them had talked of to her as clear as day, but it tugged at her heart at the same time as it reminded her of the few kisses she had shared with her own lover.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the wolf whistle that came from Varric as he, Cassandra, and Dorian emerged from behind the pillar. Hawke and Fenris both blushed furiously as they parted, but they remained close to each other.

The Seeker cleared her throat. "It's good to see you again, Champion," Cassandra said with an unusually warm smile. "I admit that I did not think we would find you. It is good to know my assumptions were wrong."

"I can certainly agree with that, Seeker Pentaghast," Hawke cordially replied. She reluctantly pulled away from Fenris, facing the rest of the group. "But, pleasantries aside, how are we getting out of here again?" she inquired with a slight tilt of her head.

Dorian stepped closer and placed his fist upon his hip, gesturing vaguely into the air with his other hand. "We were hoping you would be able to tell us that. We've been wandering for hours with absolutely no luck."

"We were 'wandering for hours' looking for Hawke, Dorian," Cassandra corrected him with a scornful look. She placed her hand on the pommel of her sheathed sword. "I was in the Fade at Adamant Fortress. The only reason we knew where to go was because of Justinia's… spirit," she explained. "How we find our way out of here now is anybody's guess."

Venethiel looked down at the mark on her hand and noticed that her mark had stopped pulsating and was now dormant. "The Anchor responds to Fade rifts… Perhaps we'll know when we're near it?"

"You know, when you first came to Haven with that thing on your hand, I never thought we would be using it as a compass," Varric commented.

The corner of her mouth tugged up in a half smirk. "Whatever works, right?"

A cool summer breeze blew through the field and into the cave.

"Morrigan?" Solas looked at the witch with bewilderment, much akin to the expression on her own face.

"'Tis I, but you are not the one I was looking for. I was looking for-"

"Flemeth. Mythal. I know…" he replied with a solemn expression, his eyes trailing down to the ground. He glanced back up in her direction. "Congratulations," he said sarcastically. "You have found her… or rather, me."

She was obviously confused at first by this statement. "You are…? But that is…" Morrigan was at a loss for words, her amber eyes darting about as she thought.

The wind blew harshly into the mouth of the cave, and the witch was torn from her thoughts to cower from its force. Solas took notice and had also had to shield himself with his hand, so he gestured for her to come in.

The sky was beginning to darken, and Solas looked at her for a brief moment. "There's another storm brewing. You should come inside. We have a lot to discuss," he told her as he watched the grey clouds forming in the distant sky.

Morrigan sighed heavily, smoothing out her cowl. "'Twould seem that is the case." She followed him inside, deeper in the cave. As the light of day began to fade behind them, Solas conjured a small flame in the palm of his hand to act as a light source as they continued, careful to hold it away from the flammable fabric of his tunic as the wind blew past them.

Solas cleared his throat as he began. "Mythal, or Flemeth, as you knew her, sought me out after the events that transpired at the final battle at Haven. She summoned me to her temple. I…" he trailed off once more. "I met with her there, and we spoke briefly."

"Why is she gone, Solas?" the witch interrupted and asked him, an exasperated and almost pained expression on her face.

Solas stopped and turned to her, a curious expression upon his face. "Do the spirits of the Well not tell you? Surely they are aware of what transpired."

Morrigan hesitated for a moment, raising her fingers to her temple as she closed her eyes. "I… have not truly listened to them for some time. I had learned to tune them out when necessary. I only heeded their whispers when they told me to seek out Mythal."

"And what do those spirits tell you now?" he pressed.

Her brow furrowed and she opened her eyes, her amber orbs looking up at him again. She shook her head, as if she were trying to shake something from her mind. "They are telling me that you are the… Dread Wolf… and that you spoke with Corypheus… you are… And my mother… but that cannot be."

"Nothing is impossible, Morrigan," he assured her with a nod of his head.

She frowned now as she processed the thoughts that were swarming her mind. "So you are responsible for the destruction caused by Corypheus?" she asked, venom in her voice.

"Yet one more past decision of mine that I have come to regret. I could try to justify my reasoning, but it would do me no good." He sighed deeply, his shoulders slightly slumped. "Mythal… transferred her spirit to me. At first, I was confused, and angry, but now I believe I understand why." He smiled slightly. "Of course, it is only if you are willing."

"If I am willing?" she inquired, keeping her coy tone while still wary now that she knew the truth about the elf standing in front of her.

"Precisely. Do you remember what Mythal said to you in the Fade? When Kieran fled to find her?" he asked, wanting her to find the answer for herself.

Morrigan contemplated for a moment before answering. "She and I said many things. To which one are you referring to?" When he did not respond immediately, she shook her head at him. "Do not play games with me, Fen'harel. Tell me what you are referring to."

Solas opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated for a moment. He frowned as he contemplated how to say what he wished to portray to the woman in front of him. He waved the hand that wasn't holding the flame and gestured to her as he turned away from her again and kept walking. "Mythal wishes, with your consent, to transfer her spirit unto you."

Drops of water echoed as they fell to the floor of the cave in the silence that followed his words. Morrigan eyed him closely, searching for any sign of treachery in his words, but found none in his tone. "You are serious?" she said with a slanted nod in his direction, her black bangs hanging in front of her face..

"I am," he confirmed.

Morrigan considered the proposition for a long moment. "If I am servant to Mythal, then how could I also be her vassal?" she asked him.

Solas raised his eyebrows. "Can they not be one in the same?" he argued. "Could you not serve as Mythal's vassal?"

The light in his hand flickered dimly but reflected brightly in his intense, steel blue gaze as he turned to face her once more. He sat upon a shelf of rock as they finally reached a point in the cave that was protected from the elements, and Morrigan did the same across from him.

"'Tis a lot to take in, and not a decision to be made lightly," she stated quietly, contemplatively.

Solas nodded in agreement. "You must consider, however, that this circumstance was the sort of thing you agreed to when you drank from the Well. But before you make a decision, why are you here?" he asked curiously.

"I told you: the spirits told me to find Mythal," she paused for a moment, her expression growing dark. "Also, I have foreseen things. Skyhold is in danger, or it will be soon enough." She inhaled deeply. "I did not wish to unless I had any other option, but I felt it was needed to seek the help of my mother. Little did I know that Skyhold would be facing a force as dangerous as Corypheus…"

Solas tensed at her words and stood up suddenly. "Skyhold is in danger?" he asked her urgently. Morrigan was subtly surprised by his behavior.

"Not yet. Soon, but not yet."

"What is this danger you speak of? Is Veneth-the Inquisitor… is she safe?" he pressed. His face was lined with worry at the thought of her in danger.

Morrigan's face softened. "You truly care for her…" she smiled ever so slightly for a moment before her expression returned to normal. "But no. She is not in danger of Skyhold's lingering threat at the moment. She went on an excursion to the Free Marches to close a rather persistent Fade Rift."

Solas sighed with relief, but he was not entirely convinced. Something was not right. "And Keiran? I do not see him with you."

"That is the reason I must return with all haste. He is safe for now, but I fear for him if we linger for too long away from Skyhold," she responded.

Solas remained silent for a moment after she spoke before nodding. "I suppose we should leave now, then."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Solas let out an exasperated sigh. "I have been gone long enough. I promised the Inquisitor the truth; it is time that she knew."

Morrigan nodded at him. The two of them exited the cave, the sky still dark overhead with its looming grey clouds. Just as they left the mouth of the cave, the noise of running footsteps tearing through the rustling grass began to grow louder and louder as it approached them. Solas' elven ears perked as he turned towards the sound.

"Lady Morrigan! Master Solas!" An Inquisition scout appeared from over the hill, stopping in front of them before he doubled over, hands on his knees, and very out of breath. He breathed heavily for a moment before righting himself and giving them a quick salute.

"You are one of Leliana's men," Morrigan observed. "I had a feeling she would send someone to follow me. Speak."

The scout cleared his throat, scowling slightly before he began. "I would have remained in the shadows, but Lady Nightingale said the matter was urgent. Skyhold is under attack."

"Skyhold is… but Keiran!" Morrigan exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear.

"The message said that there had been only minor casualties at the given time. She said your assistance was required immediately," the scout relayed.

Solas tensed up, his jaw muscles tightening as he gritted his teeth together. "Who is attacking? Has the Inquisitor not returned?" Solas asked hurriedly.

The scout shook his head. "We do not know who is attacking. Demons have flooded the castle, and the Inquisitor has yet to return."

The Dread Wolf growled through his teeth. "Why do I get the feeling Inquisitor Lavellan has fallen into a trap?"

"A-a trap, Master Solas?" the scout asked warily. The parchment in his gloved hands shook in his quivering grasp. "Either way, Sister Nightingale has requested your presence with all haste."

Morrigan's amber eyes glowered in fury at the thought of anything happening to her son. "Then I shall oblige." She moved to walk in the direction of Skyhold.

"I will not," Solas replied curtly, surprising the other two who looked at him with their mouths slightly agape. "Tell me where the Inquisitor is. I will find her." His steel blue eyes bored into Morrigan's, determination in his features

Morrigan was infuriated by his decision, but his determination caused her anger to waver. She pulled a map out of her bag, the used parchment crumpling and crackling loudly as it was rolled out. She huffed and pointed at a mark just north of the Waking Sea in the Free Marches, near the Wounded Coast. "The Rift was around here. The locals reported that it was especially troubling, or so Josephine says."

"Thank you, Morrigan," he said with a slight bow. He turned to the scout, who had yet to say anything on the matter. "Tell Sister Nightingale that I will return once I have found Inquisitor Lavellan. Without her, I doubt any help will truly do much good."

"You underestimate my abilities?" Morrigan argued.

Solas raised an eyebrow. "I do not underestimate you, Morrigan. I just do not wish to overestimate our abilities. You said yourself that this danger was a true threat." With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk off, the bottom of his staff thumping in the ground with every other step. He stopped for just a moment and turned to look at Morrigan again. "We shall discuss Mythal upon my return."

"There it is!" Venethiel shouted out as she ran towards the green tear floating in the air.

"Well it's about time!" Dorian commented as he followed her with the same enthusiasm.

Varric and Cassandra stayed behind with Fenris, who was supporting Hawke as she walked. They all agreed that Hawke needed serious healing treatment, but that exiting the Fade should be the priority. The silver haired woman stumbled along, her arm slung over Fenris' shoulder as he held her by her waist. Now that their exit was clearly in sight, Fenris allowed himself the luxury of hope and smiled ever so slightly, looking down at Hawke. "We finally made it," he whispered to her softly.

She looked at him with her bright turquoise eyes and smiled back, albeit hesitantly. "Yes, but Fenris…?"

"What is it, Lyveisa?" he asked, worry slightly creasing his eyebrows.

"I…" she began, but hesitated once more, looking off to the side for but a moment before looking back at him and smiling sadly, suspiciously, he noted. "I'm sorry I left you in Kirkwall. It was wrong of me…"

Fenris put his suspicions aside for the moment and allowed his gaze to soften. "I admit I was upset, but I knew your reasons." He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "I will not allow you to do so again, however. I am yours, and I plan to stay by your side."

"I know," she responded softly.

When the four of them caught up to Venethiel and Dorian, Venethiel proceeded to push her hand towards the tear as a green stream of energy flowed from her mark. Despite the uncomfortable feeling that surged through her, Venethiel actually smiled as she felt the magic of the Anchor working to free them from this accursed place. With one final push, a bright light flashed before their eyes and they felt a rush as they were transported through the Rift and into the normal world again.

She flew through the air, landing with a soft thud as her feet crunched onto the dry grass beneath them. Her other companions came through in a similar manner, leading to a series of thumps and thuds as some, such as Dorian, landed gracefully while others, such as Cassandra, came rolling through the Rift and landing on their hands and knees.

As soon as she was sure the rest of the party had made it out safely, Venethiel turned around and allowed the magic to surge through her mark again, closing the Rift with a loud bang as she pulled her hand away. She was breathing heavily at this point and hunched over, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

"The locals better thank me for that one," she remarked dryly as she stood up straight again, brushing herself off. "I don't think I'll be going near any more Fade Rifts for a while."

"Can't say I blame you there, Inquisitor," Varric agreed. "How are you holding up, Hawke?"

Hawke was nearly doubled over and Fenris gently lowered her down so she could sit on the ground. "I'm… better now that I'm out of there." She proceeded to have a coughing fit, blood spraying onto the ground from her mouth. Fenris gently patted her on the back, using a cloth to wipe the blood from her lip. Hawke ingested a healing potion, but it did little to heal the worst of her injuries and they no longer had any more. Venethiel winced as she watched the suffering woman, and shot a glance towards Dorian.

Dorian looked at her briefly, not noticing at first until he snapped his head back and looked at her. His lip curled. "What? You think I can…?"

Venethiel raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

The Tevinter mage sighed. "Oh alright… I suppose I can try," he muttered reluctantly before walking over to Hawke. "This might hurt a little. Or it might not. Frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing," he rambled as he knelt down next to the Champion. "You could end up with a third arm by the time I'm done. You know, side effects and all. Just a warning."

"We get it, Sparklers," Varric complained impatiently as he watched his suffering friend.

Dorian shot him a frustrated glance before summoning the magic that flowed through his hands. His fingers hovered over all of her cuts and bruises, doing his best as the light of his magic fizzled in and out. He was never good at healing magic, and it always frustrated him to use it. Hawke winced when he reached one spot in particular before he realized he had lost focus and was warming her up rather than healing her, heat radiating from his fingers. "Ah! Sorry. I told you I don't know what I'm doing."

Fenris glared at him. "Figure it out. Don't screw this up, mage," he spat as he held his beloved almost possessively.

The Tevinter mage huffed and continued his ministrations, focusing harder now as a now blue glow emanated in tendrils from his fingers and some of her more minor injuries began to mend themselves. He looked up for a moment to see Fenris still scowling at him. "If it's not flashy, it's not practiced in Tevinter. You can't blame me for that!"

Fenris' emerald eyes narrowed, but he noticed the progress Dorian was making despite it all and remained silent. Hawke, now able to relax as the pain lessened, was falling asleep in his arms. Her hand limply fell against the dry, sandy ground. He gently brushed a stray hair out of her face as his expression softened and he watched her content, sleeping form.

As Dorian's brow furrowed and he remained bent over the sleeping woman, Venethiel walked over and sat next to Fenris. She propped her arm up on one of her knees. "I'm glad we found her," she stated calmly, her green orbs watching the blue light coming from the frustrated mage's hands.

Fenris looked at the Inquisitor and gave her one of his rare, soft smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Thank you, Inquisitor." He looked back down at Hawke, breathing in deeply. "I don't know what I would do if I lost her," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

The Inquisitor gave a short chuckle, but said nothing. Varric took notice and watched her, noting the longing look in her eyes. She was frowning ever so slightly, and it pained Varric to see her this way. As happy as he was to see Hawke and Fenris reunited, Venethiel was still without her love, and still not truly happy. "I'm gonna kill Chuckles if he ever shows up again," he murmured, evidently louder than he had meant for it to be.

"Varric…" Venethiel looked over at him, frowning slightly. "Not now," she urged him. She was so focused on watching Dorian and her own thoughts that she didn't hear the soft footsteps walking up behind them, nor did she hear Cassandra's stifled gasp.

"I do hope you were joking, Varric."