#corafen

She wishes, irrationally, that she still had eyebrows. An eyebrow raise would be very effective right about now. "At least he's sending letters again," she points out, her lips curling into a smile that fades as quickly as it arrived. "What mess has he gotten himself into this time?"

"Corypheus."

Clearly she needs to clean out her ears. "I'm sorry?"

"Corypheus," Fenris repeats, a snarl hiding beneath his words. The world seems to tilt sideways for a moment, and when the moment has passed, Cora finds her hands on the back of a chair, keeping her balance. She draws a deep breath as she pulls it out and sinks into the chair. And another. 

"Corypheus," she repeats flatly. "The dead darkspawn magister."

She remembers with great clarity the feel of his rotting flesh beneath her fingertips as she checked for a pulse, the slippery nature of his blood. Fenris himself had crushed his heart - 'to make absolutely certain', he had said. Varric had later told her that he'd lost count of the bolts Bianca had shot into him.

Corypheus is dead.

"So Varric claims." Fenris's voice is so tight she half fears it will snap and hit him in the face. "The conclave's destruction was his doing," he continues, "as are the subsequent rifts, and the Inquisition was recently forced to destroy Haven as a result of his interference."

With each word, anger and disbelief and worry coil in her belly, twisting her nerves to tingle her skin. Cora swallows. "How -" her voice cracks. "How did he survive?"

"Shall I read the letter verbatim?" Fenris asks dryly, perhaps in an attempt to hide his anger. "There is a great deal of cursing between adamant, albiet confused, declarations that he has no idea how Corypheus is back." 

Cora shakes her head, a tiny, shaky laugh coming out of her throat as she imagines the kind of language her friend felt justified in spewing on the paper. "And subject Lissie to that?"

"Given that she is currently asleep, I doubt she would notice."

"Still, better not." Cora sighs, some of the tense coil in her stomach leaving with the air. "So, he must have sent the letter for a reason."

"He has," Fenris confirms grimly.

"And?"

"You will not like it," he warns, and at her expression, sighs. "He wishes for you to come to -" the paper rustles as he checks the letter -"Skyhold. The Inquisition moved there after the destruction of Haven."

"What good would I do there?" Cora demands.

"Two heads are better than one?" He shakes his head. "Perhaps your warden contacts could help. I can think of nothing else."

Again, she swallows. Her hands tremble. "Elizabeth."

Fenris covers her hands with his, soothing away the shakes with his thumbs. "I did say you wouldn't like it," he reminds her quietly, a sigh in his throat. She feels as if she should respond, but no words come to mind, just an image of a rift-torn world that Corypheus seems intent on making. The bodies of the townsfolk - for surely Corypheus would leave no survivors - of old friends, of Fenris, of Lissie... corpses parade across her sightless eyes and she draws a ragged breath.

She's already made her decision. Much though it pains her, she has to go, and by the way that Fenris's hand tighten marginally on hers, she knows he's reached the same conclusion.

"I wish you could come with me," she breathes, extracting her hands only so that she can wrap them around his shoulders. He returns the hug without pause. "I wish -"

She shakes her head and buries her nose in his shoulder. Wishes were marvelous things when they could come true, but otherwise, all they did was hurt and remind people of things that could never be. Still, the wish persists, lodging itself in her throat. "You'll be all right? Lissie?"

"I swear it," he rumbles in her ear. "Just so long as you remember your promise."

She can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. "I've made a lot of promises. Which one shall I remember?"

To her rather inappropriate delight, Fenris chooses to respond with, "I doubt the one about being home before dark will be particularly useful in this instance."

"It wasn't useful when I made it, seeing as how it's always dark."

"I'll be certain to be more specific in my promise extractions from now on," is his wry answer. "You know the one I refer to, Coraline."

She bites back a silly retort, and the tears that spring to her eyes along with it. "As if I'd leave either of you for good," she says instead, injecting as much light-heartedness into her tone as she can.