Author's Notes: Like all the stories I write, this story is FINISHED (17 chapters total) and I'll be posting them as my Beta reader and I clean them up. Should be about a chapter a week, give or take.

I will be posting this story on both and AO3. will have the "clean" version (no smut/sex scene) while AO3 will have the uncut version.

Everything has a song. Rocks, trees, the wind, the water; they all sing of what they've seen and learned. Secret stories and sentiment for those who can sense them.

I can hear the songs, especially ones of sadness, pain, anger, guilt; things I can help. Although I can hear them, I cannot make them real, make them more that others can hear them. Only a few have this gift.

As I passed through the mostly empty streets of Lowtown, in the city of Kirkwall, I heard the familiar sound of one of the gifted. A very familiar sound. I knew who it was even before I entered the Hanged Man, where I agreed to meet Varric.

The sandstone streets sang a song of their own. It sang of a bustling market, goods hawked and traded with gusto, before the troubles drove them away. Now they were empty and quiet; only a few remaining to tough out the tough times.

The sun was high in the sky when I entered the tavern, and I had to pause at the entrance to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The foul smell of strong drink, stale sweat, and sick assailed my nose, making my belly ache and protest. The music was far more pleasant to my ears; a song and voice I'd heard many times before back in Skyhold.

As my eyes adjusted, they confirmed what my ears already knew. In addition to the filthy tables, rowdy drunks, and wooden floor covered in blood stains and Maker-knows-what, I saw her. I was accustomed to seeing Maryden singing in Skyhold's tavern, so it was strange seeing her this far north in a place inferior to her usual venue. It was her, though, no doubt.

Her strong, sweet voice sang of Sera now: a lighthearted song, even though there was the pain of rejection hidden within. It gave the normally gloomy tavern an air of joy that made me smile, despite the smell.

The mystery of why she was here would have to wait until later. I scanned the bar, but couldn't find my dwarven friend. It was disappointing – I hadn't seen Varric in over a year – but I knew he was here. I walked over to the barkeep, who looked at me with a skeptical, faux-friendly manner. He didn't care much for my clothing; patched and old leathers that spoke of a poor and rough upbringing, and an over-sized hat. It was an instant judgment, and one I was used to.

"What can I get you, kid?"

It was common for people to call me "kid." I didn't know how old I was, but everyone around me said I looked like a teenager, no older than twenty. The label reminded me again of Varric, who used it as more of a term of endearment than a label. I found myself growing more anxious to see him again.

"I'm here to see Varric." The barkeep was suspicious. Varric had many enemies, and he thought I must be one of them. I knew I wasn't, but how do I convince him? "I'm Cole. He asked me here, so I'm here."

That worked. A little. The barkeep grunted at me, and gestured towards a dirty table behind me. "I'll tell him you're here, Cole." I didn't like the way he said my name.

I sat at the table, leaning my back against the wall so I could watch the other patrons. Maryden was still singing, but my table didn't have a view of her. I wish I did; it would have been a nice distraction from the tavern itself.

The Hanged Man is depreciated, decayed, and dirty. I don't know what Varric sees in this place. The one at Skyhold was much nicer, if not perfectly pristine itself. Even at this hour, there were men and women getting sloppily drunk (and sloppily everything else.) I could see one passed out at his table, drooling all over the old, splintered wood. Another was trying to hit up the cranky barmaid. Yet another was singing along with Maryden in a voice more suited to a cat in heat than a bard. I really wished she'd stop.

I turned away, letting the brim of my hat block my view. I didn't like being in crowded places. I lived at the tavern in Skyhold, yes, but I stayed on the highest floor, the attic where the boxes and birds dwelled. I could stay away from people, while still hearing the songs from below. I only came down when I needed to help someone.

There were a lot of people who needed help here, and that was why they stayed. The alcohol dulled the painful songs and made them forget, briefly. I felt the pull, the need to help that drives me, but it was hard to help those who were so addled by drink. They would have to wait.

"Kid! You made it!"

I looked up to see the familiar scruff and unbuttoned ornate blouse of my dwarven friend. His straight-as-an-arrow, strawberry blond hair hung barely off his shoulders, tied in a half-ponytail, and he was smiling at me as he took a brisk walk in my direction. I stood up to greet him.

"Varric!" He let me hug him, though I could sense his annoyance at this show of affection in his favorite tavern.

"Cool it, Kid. Don't want people here thinking I'm a softy." He gently pushed me away, patting me on the shoulder. It had been several months since I'd seen him, and I didn't realize how much I'd missed him. He missed me, too.

My table has only one chair, so Varric grabbed another from nearby, ignoring the glare from the soldier sitting adjacent. He pulled the seat up and practically jumped into the human-built stool, setting his crossbow, Bianca, down next to him.

"I'm glad you're here, Kid." A mug of ale was set in front of him. He didn't ask for it, but he never had to. Everyone in the Hanged Man knew Varric. "Kirkwall is still in bad shape. We don't have a proper and permanent Viscount, and everyone and their Mabari is trying to get a piece of her."

There are Mabari in Kirkwall? I hope I get to meet them.

"Trade is damn near impossible with the docks like they are. Choir Boy is threatening to invade. Again! And Aveline has her hands full with...everything. Honestly, this bar is the only place in the whole damn city that hasn't gone to shit."

Probably because it was already "shit."

"So...you holding up okay, Kid?" His voice was softer now, compassionate and concerned. "I didn't want to leave you behind like that, but when I heard what was happening here..."

I smiled at him. "I'm alright, Varric, but thank you for caring."

I had only been real – well realer – for a year or so and I was still getting used to it. Varric helped me a lot. He helped me understand what it meant to be human, but there was still a lot to learn. He worried for me, coddled me as a parent would a young child. I didn't mind; he saw me as the son he never had and his nurturing nature was a comfort to him as well as me. But I was more now, and even as he worried, he knew I would be fine and I understood why he had to come here.

I was also glad to be back with him again.

"You eating yet?" He asked me eagerly.

"No."

"Drinking?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need to."

"Do you even want to?"

"No."

Varric let out a growl deep in his throat. "Seriously, Kid, you're not going to become more human if you don't get out there and start doing more humany-things."

I shook my head. "If I don't have to eat and drink, why must I? If I have food or drink in my hand, isn't it better to give it to someone who needs it more?"

"It wouldn't hurt you to do things for yourself every once in a while."

"I'm not worried about me, I worry about them."

"Maybe you should worry more about you.'"

We had this discussion before, a lot. He just didn't understand! Helping people is what I do. It's why I exist. I wanted to be more human, to grow and become more, but I needed to help. "Needing" is more important than "wanting!"

I had always felt hunger, thirst, and sleepiness, but the Fade sustained me and made those feelings go away. I could still pull on the old songs and be sated. The more human I became, though, the quieter the songs became, and the harder it got to sate myself. I did not want to give that up! It wasn't just the fear of becoming dependent – and to risk starving to death like the real Cole did – but the knowledge that the more I had to care for myself, the less I could care for others.

Hunger and fatigue were not new to me, but there was one sensation that was. A venereal pull of the body, feverish and forceful, refusing to be forgotten. At first, it only affected me. I could manage that. Then I started feeling it pull me towards others, frustrating and foiling.

There was a time I could watch a body dress or bathe in front of me, or witness a couple copulate in a concealed corner, and I would feel nothing. Now I did feel it, and it only grew stronger as time went on. Unlike my hunger and thirst, pulling on the Fade didn't help to curb it. If anything, it made it worse. It's a very irritating distraction when you are trying to help.

Thankfully, although very strong, it was also very rare. I still had the advantage of seeing into a person's heart; their love, intention, morals. Even the most comely could not hold my desire if they were cruel, corrupt, cold; a small comfort. These feelings were both horrible and wonderful, painful and pleasing. It is hard to show kindness to the kind and captivating when my own emotions refused to cooperate.

Speaking of those I found appealing, "Why is Maryden here?"

Maryden's songs sang of peace, praise, and propaganda. She always traveled with the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, singing hymns of glory to his name. The Inquisitor wasn't in Kirkwall, though...

"I invited her here," Varric said as he looked at her. He didn't have a pillar in his way. "Let's just say she owed me a favor."

I nodded. "She's good at Wicked Grace, but you are better."

Varric let out a loud guffaw. "I'm never going to give up trying to pull one over on you, Kid." He raised his mug to me in praise. I don't understand why. "She wanted to help, she only hesitated because there's not much coin to be made in Kirkwall, not like there used to be. But I'm glad to say that telling some sob story about orphaned templars – as well as a Serpent-Entwined Dagger – is all it takes to get a world-famous bard to see things my way."

That sounds like her.

"And I'm glad you brought her up. Now that both of you are here, I figured you could work together to improve morale and get this city running again. I have a feeling you two would make a good team."

I considered for a moment telling Varric about these new feelings I had; feelings that were very strong in her presence. The thought of working with her made me happy and anxious all at once.

She was singing again, one of several songs she wrote after the conclave was destroyed. And I was reminded of another reason we shouldn't be together...

Warring
Battle-scarred eyes

Breach
Into the Fade has come

Demon
Please spare my life
And our sons

I felt the familiar pain of disappointment tighten in my chest as she finished, and I turned away from her. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I felt more than saw Varric raise an eyebrow at me. "And why is that?"

It pained me to say it. "She's afraid of demons."

"Most people are, Kid. Good thing you're not a demon."

I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped, remembering where I was. I didn't want to blurt it out to everyone in the tavern.

"I know what you want to say, Kid, and you are wrong. There's no reason for her to fear you; you're human. Hell, you're as human as I am."

I was confused. "You're a dwarf."

"Yep, and a person, just like you. There's no need for her to know what you were, just what you are now."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying. "I can't lie to her. I was..."

"Was..." He repeated my word, emphasizing it. "She doesn't need to know what you were. Do you honestly think I tell all my acquaintances the many nuances of my history?"

I didn't think that, but I also knew that his secrets got him more trouble than they solved.

"It's only temporary anyway. Once we're done here, you can go back to finding missing people and she can go back to touring Thedas."

It made sense (kind of) and I relaxed my shoulders enough to realize they were painfully tense before. Maryden had not started up a new song yet, but I could feel her presence in the bar, sitting on a stool drinking a glass of mead. I thought again about telling him the other reason I was nervous, but if our time together was only short-lived, maybe it wouldn't be necessary.

"Your timing couldn't be more perfect, Kid." He took another, loud gulp of his ale. "I'm meeting a friend of mine here, and I was hoping..."

He trailed off, distracted, and it was made clear why. A burly, salt-and-pepper-haired dwarf approached our table, his eyes smiling and his steps confident. This was, no doubt, the dwarfiest dwarf I'd ever seen, with so much beard you couldn't even see his fancy, nobles clothing underneath it.

"Tethris! Good to see you." He said as he approached our table. He looked very much like a dwarf, but didn't sound like one. His voice was a high, handsome tenor that hinted at a beautiful singing voice. I don't think he was here to sing, though.

"Why, if it isn't Cupcake. How are you?"

The dwarf frowned and bristled at the nickname, but didn't say anything. Varric likes to give everyone nicknames, and he doesn't care if you like it or not. I do not mind when he calls me "Kid," but this dwarf didn't like being referred to as a sweet confection. Maybe I should tell him later how much people like cupcakes!

He glanced at me. "Is this the friend you mentioned? From the Inquisition?"

"It is indeed, glad you remembered." He gestured to me. "This is Cole. Say 'Hello,' Kid."

"Hello."

His smile was deceptively friendly and warm, but it was a mask. Inside he was sizing me up the way a wolf sneers at a lost sheep. He saw a young, poor man; thin and bony, with a gaunt face; weak chin, and sunken blue eyes. He noticed wisps of ash-blond hair poking out of my "ridiculous" hat. He was polite enough not to say anything about it, though.

He took a seat between the two of us, gesturing to the waitress to bring him a glass of ale. "I am Talgon." He glared at Varric, but only briefly. "And I'm honored to meet another member of the famed Inquisition."

Again he said one thing, but meant another. This guy was very slimy.

"Cupcake here is one of my contacts in the Carta. He's been helping me try to get things up and running again."

It was at this point that I realized Varric was wearing a mask, too. He was well aware Cupcake was far less trustworthy than he seemed, but their ability to hide it from any normal person was impressive. I guess I was no ordinary person.

"I do what I can to help." Cupcake's voice had a sing-song quality to it, and he took a swig of his ale, grimacing at the horrible taste. "After being ousted from Orzimmar, we consider Kirkwall to be our home now. We'll do whatever it takes to make this place the center of trade and commerce it once was."

Varric's mask dropped long enough to give a derisive snort. Talgon ignored it. "But, as I'm sure Varric has informed you, there are a lot of issues preventing us from rebuilding the way we'd like. Delivery delays, red tape, constant threats of invasion."

"Keeping Varric from attending city meetings," I blurted out.

This stopped them both cold, and they looked at me in shock. Varric was the first to speak. "What was that, Kid?"

"The Carta doesn't want you to go to the meetings."

"Wha..." Talgon's voice strained, his mask dropped, and he struggled to put it back in place. "I said no such thing!"

"You were thinking it, though." I said calmly. I could hear another voice in his head, someone with authority, and I tried my best to copy that gruff voice as I repeated his words from Talgon's head. "Varric will ruin everything. Do what it takes to keep him out of the City Council Meetings. If you fail..."

"The fuck," Talgon shouted. If we had been in a respectable place, such an outburst would have garnered the attention of everyone in the bar. They ignored us. "You can't go making such baseless accusations, young man. The Carta isn't..."

"There's a meeting going on right now. Talgon is here to make sure you don't g..."

Varric jumped from his seat so quickly the chair smacked against the wall behind him. This time, the other bar patrons noticed, startled but they only stared, speechless and stunned.

He grabbed Bianca and threw her over his back as he stomped out towards the door. "Thank you so much for the info, Cupcake..."

"I didn'..."

"Come on, Kid, we've got to go. Now!"

"Well, there was your first look at what we're dealing with here, Kid." Varric was walking at a brisk pace through Lowtown.

"Talgon wasn't really your friend." My legs were longer, so I didn't have to take as many steps to keep up, but I still had to walk fast.

"I figured. He was a major reason why I wanted you here. I knew something fishy was going on, but I didn't have the resources to find out what."

"Are we going to that meeting?" I asked curiously. He never actually said.

"Yep. I had no intention of going, anyway – the damn things bore me – but you've convinced me I need to go."

"A house a home; this city a safe. Nights in the Fade, fading to knight. Devoted to devotion; libel for loyalty, sentenced for service. Blue purity does not sate like the red of blood."

Varric chuckled, "You haven't changed much at all, have you?"

"I will help, Varric. Kirkwall will not be happy unless it is free in the Free Marches."

"Glad to hear it, Kid."

We walked in silence for a while. I liked walking with Varric; he was quiet inside, sundered from the Fade, making him harder to read than most. He was always calm, calculating, considerate, but also coy. He pulled me closer to here, away from the Fade. He was the reason I was now human.

We ascended the many stairs to Hightown and found it as deserted as Lowtown. Many nobles and wealthy merchants still lived here, but were away where they could more easily gain the luxuries they loved. The loyal remained, but were downtrodden, their spirits broken. There was so much to do; so many people to help. I wasn't sure where to begin.

We headed straight to the Viscount's Keep. It was big and intimidating. The walls were very tall; I counted four windows high on all sides. We had to climb several more stairs before we found the keep's entrance; flanked by guards and a very large, metallic bird.

The lobby was large and spacious, with stairs leading to the left and right into the upper levels. There were a lot of people here, mostly nobles, all impatient and agitated to the point that it seeped into the stone and mortar.

Varric walked up to the stairs towards the barracks. There were only a few guards here; all weary and overworked. There weren't enough of them to handle the crime on the streets, but they were trying.

One figure stood out among the others, however, and I stopped mid-stride when I saw it. The figure was hanging around the barracks, looking out among the guards, seemingly content to just be there. Soon, it spotted me, too, and it stared, surprised.

It was a spirit, just like me.

Well, maybe not just like me, as I'm human now, but I use to be a spirit, and I could still see them. No one else could see the spirit in the hall, but we saw each other.

It didn't have a physical body. A wraith maybe? His translucent green form floated off the ground as it stared back at me with eyeless eyes. I lost my ability to identify spirits when I became real, but the spirit's ethereal armor and helmet said that it was some kind of war spirit. A reason to be wary, but it didn't seem to be ruthless.

"Hello," I soothed as I slowly walked up to him. "Don't be afraid. I'm Cole."

My soothing words didn't work, and it fled towards the back.

"Wait!"

"Kid?"

I barely heard Varric as I rushed through the surprised guards to try and catch the spirit. I saw it duck through an open door and around the corner. I ran in after it, but the dark room was empty. The spirit had vanished.

"Hold! State your business."

I turned around to see a young elven woman in city guard armor, her sword drawn, bearing down on me. Only then did I realize it may not have been a good idea to go running through a barracks full of guards.

"Calm down, Private, he's with me."

She wasn't a Private anymore, she was a Sergeant now, but I think that was just Varric's nickname for her. He pushed his way past the other guards to stand beside me.

Only after Varric reached my side did she sheath her sword and glare at us in annoyance. Her black hair was pulled back in a messy pony-tail, and she was the only elf among all of the guards. Despite being smaller than all of them, it was clear she was currently in charge.

"Varric, who is this? And why aren't you in the meeting with everyone else?"

He chose to ignore her questions about me. "That's what I'm here to find out, actually."

He charged out of the barracks, towards a great hall, and I followed close on his heels.

"So Kid," he spoke to me in a whisper as we walked towards the meeting hall. "What were you chasing back there?"

"A spirit."

"A spirit? In the barracks?"

"I think he liked it there, but he ran when he saw me."

"What kind of spirit?"

"Some kind of 'war' or 'warrior' spirit, I think. I'm not sure."

"And it ran from you? Definitely not 'Valor.'"

He had more questions for me, but we arrived at the meeting hall entrance. The guards stiffened as Varric and I approached, and they stepped in front of the doorway, blocking our way. "Meeting is in session. No one is allowed to enter."

"I'm Varric Tethris, and I need to be in that meeting."

The guards shuffled their feet and glanced at each other nervously. "My...apologies Master Tethris, but the doors are locked. We can't let you in."

Varric raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?"

"Once a meeting begins, we can't..."

Varric raised his voice, to the point of shouting. Loudly. "Do you really expect me to believe you are incapable of unlocking the doors yourself, or knocking and asking someone to let me in? Are the counsel your prisoners now, trapped inside a boring, political debate..."

"Master Tethris, there is no need to..."

"...with no end in sight? How are they supposed to eat? What if they need to use the privy? What if..."

At that moment, the doors swung open, forcing both guards to retreat or be hit. Another guard emerged; a woman. This one had more ornate armor, an orange-striped scarf around her neck, and long, ginger-red hair. She reminded me of the cover of Varric's book, Swords and Shields. Guard-Captain Aveline.

Her eyes fell on Varric, who smiled back at her, before they turned to one of the guards at the door. "What is this commotion, soldier?"

The guard's expression was hidden behind his helmet, but it was clear he didn't want to look the Captain directly in the eye. "Guard-Captain, we were just...having a...discussion with Master Tethris."

"Oh yes," Varric's classic sarcasm sang through. "We were just discussing prison politics while the future of Kirkwall is being discussed in a meeting I'm being barred from attending."

Aveline's expression was cold, but I sensed anger within her. She turned her authority to the guard that spoke. "Who are you, soldier? Name? Rank?"

The man stood at attention, but he wanted to hide somewhere. "P...private Markis Jenner Ser...Messer...um...Captain."

Aveline let out an exasperated and angry sigh. "At ease, Private, they are with me."

The guards saluted and returned to guarding. Varric gave a mock bow to both of them before marching into the meeting, his head held high, his face grinning proudly. I followed behind him.

The meeting hall initially looked empty, with benches on either side of the room. There was a wide stairway in the center, and at the top was were the nobleman were found. Two loges sat on either side, with rows of people sitting comfortably within, and space in the middle for the current speaker, which was currently a blonde woman in an uncomfortable Orlesian-style gown and no mask.

I got funny looks from Aveline, but she didn't protest my presence. It was the other occupants in the meeting that did.

"Who is zat...boy wit' you?" The Orlesian woman turned her nose up at me, and not just figuratively.

"An agent of the Inquisition and a personal friend. I asked him here to help out with the troubles in Kirkwall..."

She harrumphed in disgust as she looked down at me. My clothing was not suitable to her taste. She didn't think I was very handsome, either. I didn't think she was very nice.

"'E will 'ave to wait outside. Zis meeting is not for Darktown beggars."

"He's not from Darktown, Lady Durand." Varric was always good at remaining calm, even when his mind was a sea of rage, like it is now. "He's from the Inquisition, fresh off the boat, and he's also my gues..."

Another man stood this time, drawing everyone's attention. He was at the front of the meeting hall, a stern man with long, dark hair and immaculate clothing. He wore a simple, spiked crown on his head, marking him as the Viscount, though it was a crown he didn't want.

"You are welcome to invite your friend, Master Tethris," he spoke with a calm, but stern voice that one did not argue against. "After he has been given proper attire. I simply can't have someone in his...condition in our hall."

Aveline rolled her eyes, and Varric was clenching his fist again. The thought of the Arishok standing in this same hall throwing the head of the last Viscount crossed his thoughts, but he thought better of mentioning it.

"Head back to the Hanged Man, Kid." Varric whispered to me. He had wanted to argue, to defend me, but he decided it wasn't worth it. I will never understand politics and protocol. "Change into your dress uniform and come back as soon as you can."

I nodded and walked out, letting the heavy doors of the meeting hall slam behind me with an ominous thud.

I didn't like the walk back nearly as much as I liked the walk to. The streets were quiet, with only a handful of nobles here and there in Hightown. Most of which looked at me like I was a rat invading their home. I've been real long enough to expect such looks, but I'm still not quite use to them.

Lowtown wasn't much better, though my appearance didn't stop the merchants from trying to sell to me. I ignored them; they had nothing I wanted.

It was shortly after I stepped off the steps of Hightown and into Lowtown that I felt the pull. The pull of someone needing me It was here, but further in, past the Hanged Man. A cry of despair that needed my help.

The pull was pressing, pronounced, and I picked up my pace. It would take me past the Hanged Man, but Varric could wait. Someone needed my help more.

I could no longer hear Maryden singing as I neared the tavern, and I was both relieved and disappointed. I loved to listen to her, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about running into her.

Or so I thought. Her not singing didn't mean she was gone from the tavern, a realization I made just a little too late. She emerged from the tavern just as I passed by, her instrument slung over her back, and a satchel held in her hands. I didn't have time to hide.

"Oh...hello."

Maker, I wish I'd asked Varric to explain women to me now.