The Song That Calls Me Home

They told me a song would take me from you. Listen. That's our daughter singing. In Lothering, with soldiers drawing steel, You stood beside a man you barely knew. Through hungry miles, your singing filled the silence; I found a little faith in walking next to you. You brought me flowers; I let the old masks fall. You knew these praying hands had learned to kill. When Denerim rang out its victory bells, Your heartbeat was the song I treasure still. Call me home, call me home, Not to the dark beneath the stone. To flour on sleeves and a chair pulled near, To all the noise that means you're here. There's still so much I want to do - Let me grow old, grow old with you. The world lost track of where its hero went; I learned your morning steps across the floor. The Joining left so little chance for children; Year after year, two bowls, and room for more. Some nights we left the little room unopened; Some nights we made each other laugh instead. You never had to earn the love I gave you; I chose the man beside me in our bed. Give me your hand. There... did you feel that? That's... that's our child. Then came her cry, and all our practiced courage Was useless with her fingers round my thumb. We took our turns till morning, tired and laughing; The life we'd scarcely dared to name had come. Call me home, call me home, Not to the dark beneath the stone. To flour on sleeves and a chair pulled near, To all the noise that means you're here. There's still so much I want to do - Let me grow old, grow old with you. I searched the west for more than borrowed summers, For something that could break the Calling's claim. And every road I took that led from you Became a road that brought me back again. I sent my agents chasing every whisper; She traced your roads in crumbs across my maps. Each homecoming, you knelt to let her catch you, Then fell asleep with her upon your lap. I called old friends to supper at our table; Alistair brought cheese enough for ten. Zevran hid a card; our daughter caught him - The great assassin begged to play again. We spoke the names of those no longer with us, Then passed the bread and let the laughter in. Before the Breach, I brought the answer home: A cure to break the Calling's hold at last. We shared it with the others wearing grey; We kept our vows; we took our futures back. My spies unmasked the voice that lied to them; I warned their leaders of the demon pact. At Adamant, no siege, no burning brothers - Our friends marched out beneath the griffon flag. In Skyhold, I guard secrets for the war; Our daughter keeps her drawings by my chair. I send my ravens out across the mountains, Then climb the stairs to braid her tangled hair. I march beneath the Inquisition's banners; I fight for more than songs of battles won. At dusk, your window shines above the courtyard - She sees me first. You both come down. I run. Call me home, call me home, Not to the dark beneath the stone. To flour on sleeves and a chair pulled near, To all the noise that means you're here. The years ahead are ours to wander through - Let me grow old, grow old with you. She's asking for one more story. We have time. Not every song must end in stone. Yours is the voice that calls me home.