Many thanks to mudbloodedslytherin for the beta help.

He saw the blush begin on Nyra's face as she took one of Cullen's mages from the chessboard.

He saw her blush again when the two of them spoke quietly in the garden. She fiddled with her hair as well, unable to maintain eye contact for long.

He saw Cullen rub the back of his neck nervously from time to time, always when she said something witty towards him, the poor, lovesick fool.

He saw how Nyra gently took his hand when they shook so much he couldn't hold a report he was trying to show her.

He saw how carefully Cullen guarded her back when they went to find Maddox, saw how she did the same for him. They were a lethal team.

Dorian saw all that and more. He also saw how they were idiots when it came to actually initiating anything. For almost three-quarters of a year, they had been skirting around the issue and the entire Inner Circle was simply waiting for one of them to finally make the first move. However, it seemed like the two of them didn't see the obvious signs, so Dorian took it upon himself to finally make sure his friends had a little bit of happiness. Both of them gave almost everything they had to the Inquisition, they deserved to have something of their own.

He didn't bother with subtlety. They were beyond subtleties now.

Instead, after one of her less-harrowing judgements, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the (mercifully) empty Undercroft.

"You, my dear, are utterly frustrating, you know that?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, Dorian," she said, rubbing her temple tiredly. That had been increasing in frequency steadily for the past few months, he had noted. "Please, just spit it out, I have no time for games today."

"You and the Commander have obviously been making eyes at each other for the past six months, and yet nothing has come out of it. Nothing! I've got three gold on the two of you initiating something before Corypheus is defeated; you can't let me down like this!" he said dramatically.

She gave him a wry smile. "I think you'll be losing that gold, Dorian," she said, her quiet, weak voice juxtaposing his boisterous one. "Nothing is happening between me and Cullen, ever."

"I have a hard time believing that," he replied. "Honestly, it's as plain as day on both your faces. The man adores you and you clearly care a great deal for him. You have nothing to lose from this!"

"It's not happening, Dorian," she said, her tone making it clear that it was final. "Please, leave this alone."

"I won't," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Why are you refusing something that would obviously make you both very happy? Nyra, you deserve that much."

"No," she said. "It will never happen. And we are done here."

"What are you so afraid of?" Dorian asked, as she turned her back on him. "At least tell me why?"

She stopped in her tracks, hands coming to clench the sides of her head before she whirled around to face him. "Because I'm dying!" she yelled at him, her face falling from anger into a defeated expression that crushed his heart. Her hands fell from her head to fist together, pressed to her chest. She let out a quiet sob. "Creators, I can't, Dorian. I'm dying."

How long have you known?

Since I closed the Breach? Maybe before. The signs were there. I always felt exhausted after closing a rift, but I thought it was to be expected. It wasn't until after I closed the Breach that I really realized it. I was always much weaker after that.

He couldn't stop reliving the conversation in his mind, praying that it was some cruel joke by the Maker, and that he had heard everything wrong.

Every time I close a rift, I lose a bit more of myself. I think the Anchor is connected to me, my life, my magic, something. I don't know exactly, neither does Solas. He's done what he can, but it's inevitable. We can't separate me from the Mark and I can't let those rifts remain open.

Surely there's another way. There has to be something we can try.

Dorian, don't. Who knows how much longer I have? I don't want to spend it searching for a cure that isn't there. I don't want you trying either. Solas has done what he can and we're pretty sure that it only weakens me when I use the Mark. I'll still be around to make sure the rifts are gone for good.

He couldn't just stand by and watch her die! But she had looked so broken, so utterly accepting of her fate, how could he argue in that moment?

And after?

I have enough to close every rift, or so Solas believes. After that… well, I've been on borrowed time anyway. The living aren't supposed to travel through the physical Fade. I've done more than I ever dreamed I'd be able to do. It's not so bad.

He had seen the edges of fear creeping in, though. No matter how carefree she acted about it, he knew: death terrified her.

Is it what's making you tired?

Yes. I have to work more to keep up, but it hasn't stopped me yet. I'll still be fighting down to the last rift, I promise.

Is it just the exhaustion?

Not exactly. Mostly, it's just draining my energy, but it also drains me. More than just my strength, I mean. Things aren't as… vibrant as they used to be. I don't feel everything as sharply as I once did. My emotions, thoughts; they're quieter, duller. I started feeling that when I closed the Breach as well.

The damn thing was turning her Tranquil as well, it appeared. He had always had some idea that the Maker existed, but he wasn't sure he wanted Him to exist at the moment. Better that there be no Maker than one that would sit around and let this happen.

She had given everything for the Inquisition. Her future, her happiness, her dedication. But still it asked for more. It asked for everything.

Now do you see why I keep my distance from Cullen? I can't do that to him. I can't ask him to love someone who's already dead.

Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't any of them seen it? The tired spells, the fact that she had been slowly pulling away for weeks - months, really. Why hadn't any of them even bothered asking? Save Solas, did anyone else suspect? Did they know and just not speak of it?

Dorian watched the others, looked to see if they knew.

Naturally, Cole did. She must have talked to him about keeping silent about it, otherwise he likely would have told everyone in Skyhold at this point. Nyra had been taking him on missions more and more often, and he saw the spirit hover closely by her side, especially during battles. When she stumbled more than once from weakness, he was there to lend an arm to lean on.

Bull had figured it out easily enough. He had mentioned his Ben-Hassarath training making him perceptive and, for once, it was not an exaggeration. He also knew enough that Nyra didn't want to talk about it, so he didn't bother forcing the issue. However, Dorian saw him invite her to drink with whatever group he was with as often as he could, trying to help her savor the time she had left to enjoy such things.

Leliana knew everything about everyone and he doubted Nyra had even bothered keeping it from her. The two of them seemed to work together to keep Josephine and Cullen mostly in the dark. The advisors were in close enough contact with the Inquisitor, they obviously could tell something was wrong. However, Nyra and Leliana managed to keep the full truth from them, he suspected.

Everyone else he believed had varying degrees of suspicion, but probably had no idea of the whole truth. Varric, Blackwall, and Cassandra were perceptive enough; they likely saw her exhaustion, but let themselves believe she was merely overworking herself. Indeed, Varric often insisted she'd take breaks on the road, telling Nyra she'd make herself sick if she kept up the pace she was working.

Nyra had kept Vivienne at a distance from the beginning; it took very little effort to keep her from noticing the exhaustion, and the Inner Circle protected their Inquisitor fiercely enough that Skyhold had no rumors for Vivienne to hear. Whatever the woman suspected, she kept to herself.

Sera was another matter. Though almost the same age, Nyra had taken on a somewhat mentor-like relationship with the elf, trying to keep Sera from mayhem she wouldn't be able to get herself out of. Sera was also the master of denial. If she didn't like what she saw, it didn't exist. Likely Sera was as good at denying Nyra's dying as he had been.

He hadn't wanted to believe it. For a while, he had even been able to convince himself similarly to how Varric believed: she was overworked and needed a nice, long vacation they couldn't afford to give her. Her clan's death, the racial slurs, the politics were all too much. Anything but the fact that the very thing that should be their salvation was claiming her life as recompense.

Nyra, for her part, did her best to still be the strong Inquisitor that had inspired thousands to join their banners. She rarely delegated any extra work to her advisors, approved alliances, played nice with the Orlesian aristocracy, as well as going around wherever there were rifts, helping the locals while she was there.

Once Dorian found out, he noticed she took him along more often, while before she had relied more on Solas. She also took Cole and Bull along a majority of the time. The more rifts she closed, the more she began to depend on them as her main team, for obvious reasons. More than once, she was nearly knocked unconscious after closing a rift, barely able to keep herself from falling on her face. Bull would carry her to camp, and Cole and Dorian would watch over her while she struggled to gain enough strength to continue on.

Once after closing the rift, she was sleeping and the three of them were sitting in front of the fire, eating or doing small repairs on armor and weaponry. Cole was cleaning one of his daggers when he spoke softly.

"She wants it over with. She's tired of being tired. Sleep entices her, soft, soothing, sweet. She's trying to close them all, hopes she'll be strong enough. We make her stronger; she doesn't have to pretend around us. It's easier to be strong when you don't have to pretend." His head jerked in Dorian's direction. "She doesn't like hearing about it because it makes us sad. But she doesn't mind. The fear and sadness left a while ago. Now, she's alright with it. But she knows we aren't, so she doesn't want to talk about it. She doesn't like seeing other people sad." He paused. "She feels guilty about that. She feels guilty she can't fix that."

Dorian shook his head. That elf had a larger guilt complex than Varric and was much worse at hiding it.

"How is she holding up, Cole?" Bull asked, taking a swig of his drink.

Cole paused, as though he was listening to whispers that all other ears were deaf to (which, in a way, was how it worked). "She's not weak in the Fade. There, she's strong again. She likes it when she can stand on her own. Waking up is hard, takes longer now. But she can still do it, so she will."

Stand on her own? Dorian never saw her ask for assistance, and she was always leading them, staff in one hand… pressing into the ground with every other step.

She hadn't needed to do that three weeks ago.

"Redcliffe's beautiful," she observed, sitting on the docks, leaning her back against one of the posts. Dorian chose to stand instead, one arm resting on the post across from her.

"I suppose, for Ferelden," he said. "It's quaint."

"If this is quaint, I'd hate to hear what you'd have to say about the Dalish and their aravels," she said with a laugh. It quickly stopped, before she sighed. "I will miss this."

He froze, unsure if she wanted him to respond or not. "Yes, well, I'm sure you can always come back and visit. I'll even come along, if you wish," he said. "Though that will take some bribery."

She gave him a sad smile. "You know I wasn't talking about that," she said. "It's all right. I know I haven't talked about it… at all. I was hoping that if I didn't, maybe you'd stop looking at me like you've already lost me. I had hoped that maybe if I avoided the issue, we'd go back to the way it was before. But you haven't, Dorian."

"How exactly do you expect me to react?" Dorian asked, his voice rising. "With a smile and a laugh? How do you want me to react as I watch you die?"

A few months ago, she would have fought back with equal anger, rising to match him. She had done it to nobles and she did it to her friends as well. Now, he saw the faintest spark of anger in her eyes, but she couldn't feed it enough to make herself yell anymore. Now, it wasn't worth it. Instead, she gave him a wan smile.

"I'm not telling you how to feel, Dorian, as though anyone could. But the thing is, I'm still alive. I'm still here for now. Can't you appreciate that while it's still true?"

He slid down the post, until he was sitting. "It's not easy to watch," he said, gazing out across the water to the homes on the opposite edge. Watching one of the only friends he had fade in front of his eyes - it was like Felix, but worse. At least with Felix, he hadn't had to watch him struggle every day. It was less immediate. And while he could never condone what Alexius had done, he had a bit more sympathy for the man. It's difficult to watch the dying fight to live.

"I'm not saying it is," she said. "You don't have to accept it, you don't have to like it. But for my sake, could you please at least try to pretend for a little?" She reached over and took his hand in her own, smaller one. "Please?"

He twisted his wrist so that his palm was facing hers. "I promise, I'll try. Don't expect me to be perfect, though."

"I thought you were always perfect," she joked, with a true laugh this time. "But really, thank you."

She leaned against her staff, staring down the ledge at the rift.

"The last one?" Bull asked.

She nodded. "The last one," she said quietly. She sighed, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. When she opened her eyes, they were set and resolute. "Let's go." No elaboration, no last-minute words to her companions, nothing. Just acceptance and calm. Dorian wished he had even a portion of the same composure, but his heart thudded in his chest.

Dorian and Bull shared a look before they followed her and Cole down the steep path, positioning themselves in their pre-appointed places. Dorian and Nyra perched themselves on the ledge, while Cole and Bull moved closer to the rift.

He wanted to say something before anything else happened, but didn't know what to say. It was a foolish hope, but maybe if they didn't say goodbye, she'd still live.

He scoffed at himself. It was a childish belief after all; but Dorian couldn't stop a small part of him from hoping all the same.

And then it was too late to say anything. Nyra lifted up her palm and sent out a thread of energy to the rift above them. It pulsed outward, green fingers connecting with the ground. For a moment, all was calm and eerily quiet. Then, the rift flared again, and a terror formed in front of Bull. He started hacking off its legs. Cole, meanwhile, was darting around at impossible speeds, finding weak points on the demon.

Nyra and Dorian shot repeatedly at the despair demon that floated along the edges of the battlefield, keeping it away from the melee fighters. Once that disappeared into the rift, Nyra shot her palm to the sky and started to stitch it shut.

Cole and Bull started to make their way up as Nyra fought to shut the rift closed. He could see her face grimacing and hear the faint sound of a grunt; the only concessions she ever gave of the pain it caused. Slowly, ever so slowly, the rift stitched shut, Nyra pouring more and more of herself into it. With a cry, she finally released the magic, right before she slumped into Dorian's arms. Slowly, he guided her to the ground, cradling the upper half of her body in his arms.

Her face was lifeless, all the blood drained. He held a hand near her mouth, felt her neck and wrist, struggling to find some sign of life. No, no… Please let her be alive.

"She's alive, but deep in the Fade," Cole said as he ran up to them. "She won't wake up for a while."

"Thank the Maker," Dorian said, finally letting himself breathe as he felt glorious relief wash over him.

All the rifts were closed, and Nyra was alive. Perhaps the Maker could occasionally work miracles after all.

Part 2 should be up later today or tomorrow.