DISCLAIMER: This will be the disclaimer from this chapter on. I do not own Dragon age or any related media. I only own the OC.
I can't come in unless you open.
He probably should have said that out loud.
The inky red snow crunched under the soles of his shoes with laces that didn't listen. His friends wept with dark rose splotches that dripped as he hurried through the in betweens. He stretched the veil before him. Puffs of smoke where the veil snapped back disturbed the motes of life that remained stale until stirred as he vacated where he once was but wasn't anymore.
They called it Haven but he could not seek shelter. Not unless they opened; not unless they invited him. He couldn't cross through, not even with the veil. It's borders were resolute. The wood shivered and the iron shuddered as he tried to pass through it with a bang.
"I can't come in unless you open." This time he made sure to say it.
Magic whispered behind him as footsteps emerged from the shadows. He turned and folded the veil close. He was behind the Hunter, turning as the barrier opened. His friends sang together. Whistling and weeping at the things he had to do, but the Hunter was going to hurt him.
They splattered as his daggers fell back. He soothed his friends, cleaning them in cloudy icy snow.
He felt them come out, opening and inviting him in but when he looked to check who it was - bright. He flinched, shielding himself and his friends. Dark thin shadows against a flaming sun. They moved. The mark - the anchor. The power of the anchor was blinding and hurt his sight so he looked up with his head and eyes.
"I came to warn you, to help." He began and they stopped before him. It didn't match. When he looked they were too bright but when he looked he could see them easy. He kept his hat angled to shield his sight anyway. "People were coming to hurt you. You probably already know."
"What is this? What is going on?" The bright one said.
"The Templars come to kill you." He stated.
"Templars?! Is this the order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking wildly?" The armored one, the lion and the commander. Commander Lion spoke with a deep fear and disbelief swallowed in a growling angry snarl.
"The Red Templars went to the Elder One." He spoke soft, breaking the news. The bright one stepped back, fingers and body twitched as they considered his words. Faltering festering feelings.
If I'd only gone to them instead! I knew they would! She said so!
"You know him?" The bright one knew, but it was blinding and deafening to follow the regret, so it was lost in her shiny glow. He couldn't figure out more. "He knows you. You took his mages." He continued and turned as he felt a pool of hate crest over a sea of red that descended down the mountains. "There…" He pointed toward the peak where the Elder One glowered and plotted. He turned toward the Commander but he was stepping forward as the other, the Elder One's general and all his red lyrium armor oozed dark and blinding all at once. It was nowhere near as swirling blindness as the Bright One, the one they called the Herald.
"I know that man...but this Elder One."
"He's very angry that you took his mages."
"Cullen, give me a plan. Anything."
"Haven is no fortress." Cullen spoke, summoning every bit of courage to squash and hide the fear. Not again. I won't lose Haven to abominations as I did Kinloch Hold. this will not be another Kirkwall. "If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can." The Herald nodded.
"Mages! You- you have sanction to engage them. That is Samson. He will not make it easy. Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives, for all of us!"
The further she got the more he could see, the more his sight improved and the more he was hit with the swirling mass of hurts - old and new of Haven. Hurtling hurling hurts in haunting handfuls. With the Breach closed it was easier, he could slip between to flit forward and fast. A child lost in the chaos searching for his sister. A tranquil with history beyond his reach, unsure to pack their herbs. A young mage, crying fearful of the descending templars.
"Its alright." He muttered and directed them where it was safest. They forgot him.
Helping and aiding everywhere and anywhere. New aches grew louder - building and drowning the old and ancient ones that pulsed and bubbled beneath the snow and stone. The dragon came - forcing the pain and hurts toward a great beacon for all - the Chantry.
They ran; templars chased. He couldn't keep up, there were too many. He encouraged them to run, to stay down and avoid them. A girl ran back, he couldn't her forget why she went back. "Your rabbit is here." He pulled and stretched the veil and the stuffed toy was in his hands. It was small and thanked him for his help, for reuniting it with it's girl.
Head lifted, he saw a man trapped in fire. Burning and burning, pleading for help. He couldn't help - too far. So much smoke, coughing, choking, clawing for air. He flashed his daggers as a templar made the girl scream. Blood, not hers. His. He had to forget that. He didn't want to bleed. It didn't always have to work like that.
The man was breathing, far away. The bright one had saved him. He smiled. They helped.
A woman trapped beneath a beam, another fallen near pots - fire racing, he stepped toward them but lost them in the glow. He stumbled back and directed his sight to a cloaked man. He fought the Templar even though he had no weapon. The blade clashed against the hidden vambrace beneath dark red robes. Red that stained and seeped across the whites and gold. Cole stepped and ran, the veil whispered as it stretched and whooshed.
His friends did well and wept watery wet tears that trickled behind him leaving life's footprints in the snow. It would wash away one day. The snow melting and it would dry and be lost. Death stains more than dirt and is not so easily washed away from the fade. Only time, but it would leave behind a wisp, a trace, a memory - an echo.
Help, someone please.
The Chancellor cried and clutched his side. Cole held him. He couldn't walk. Too many cried out. He tried to look as he helped Chancellor Roderick and every time he was blinded. The Herald was helping them. He made a good choice coming here. The Herald cares.
They were there, almost. He could see it but couldn't see it. So he looked with his eyes as the Chancellor limped into the Chantry. A sign of hope, of safety, but there was so much despair, hurt, pain. It permeated and stretched the veil around him. Soaked and seeped, fat drops of screams and sobs. He flinched to look at the Herald. A shadow of confusion just making it past the light.
"He tried to stop a Templar." He explained soft. "The blade went deep." Already the Chancellor was blurring from inside. The veil clung and twisted, ready to take his spirit - his soul back to the fade. He was here, he would watch but for now he clung to this side. It grounded and churned in crashing waves as blood swirled. "He is going to die." Cole added. He had tried get there faster but he was too late.
"What a charming boy." Roderick added.
Cole set him down as others followed after him. He was careful of the position, the angle. The red tear and stained cloth spread and he frowned. He didn't have any potions or poultices on him so he put pressure there, holding him together. If he could, he would stitch him together. He wanted to help he did but he was afraid. Old hurts. The Divine dead, chaos. Who would stand out against this? They needed order, assurance. Roderick tried, he did his best. No one faulted him for that.
"Herald. Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us." Commander Lion's voice shook and quivered. Confident but deep down he feared, the courage beat back the fear.
"I've seen an archdemon. I was in the fade, but it looked like that." Cole offered. They had to know. It was important. It was a dream, a memory echoing. But this dragon… it looked like the archdemon but it was different.
"I don't care what it looked like, it cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven." The Lion shook with ferocious contempt. He yearned for the old song, fingers twitched at his side.
"The Elder One doesn't care about the village." Cole explained. He had to. "He only wants the Herald."
Someone - anyone please please help.
People were screaming in silence. They wanted help and he tried to move away. He wanted to but Roderick clung to him. Rust staining his fingers until he thought it away. No. He admonished himself. That's not how it's supposed to work. The rust came back darkening the clothes he wore.
Time stretched as the Herald looked around the Chantry. Her gaze on every single person. She hurt, he could see that from here, but didn't dare try seeing.
"If it will save these people." The Herald, lithe and light spoke, drawing him from staring at the shadows that clawed at the veil. "He can have me."
"It won't." He looked toward where the Elder One seethed in the distance. He was hurt from the world. Everything was wrong, nothing was right, and the Herald had something that was his. But he was wrong, what he wanted to do. What he did… it would cause more pain. Cole could see that. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them. Kill them anyway. I don't like him."
"You don't like- " Cullen sighed and shook his head. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets. Cause one last slide."
"We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."
"We're dying but we can decide how." Cullen said and lowered his voice. "Many don't get that choice." Cullen
Roderick had been quiet, breathing slowed and pain wracking. But now, he looked up at the boy beside him and then down into the Chantry. The people huddled close by the doors and room. They filled the chantry. Barely two hundred once roamed Haven and now.. Barely half of them were here. Others fitted through the rooms and dungeons, blankets, potions and poultices. But Roderick looked past them at the door to the dungeon.
There was a path.
"Yes. That." Cole nodded, gazing where he looked. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."
Herald and Lion broke away to stare at the Chancellor. Annoyance and anger at Roderick bubbled but it was pushed aside as Roderick's graveled and weakened voice spoke.
"There is a path." Roderick began. "You wouldn't know it unless you made the summer pilgrimage as I have." Roderick took a steadying breath and stared at the dungeon door. He could do something to help, to ensure they survived. He staggered to his feet, the Herald shifted to catch him, "The people can escape." He looked at the Herald and frowned. "She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I cou-could tell you."
"What about it, Cullen? Will it work?"
" he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"
The Herald looked away, determined but unsure.
"Perhaps you will surprise it? Find a way?" Even Cullen knew the words were hollow. The chance of survival was slim. To survive an avalanche whilst in the center of the affected area was improbable. He looked down but steeled himself as he turned toward the Chantry. "Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick. Move!"
"Herald if you are meant for this. If the Inquisition is meant for this…" Roderick gave a gasp as he inhaled to continue speaking. "I pray for you."
Cole grasped onto the Chancellor. He had to help him help. There were so many people crying, pain, agony swirling around them but this would help them in the long run. He ignored the cries as masses descended into the Dungeon behind him. The stones wept cold frosty drops and the braziers wailed as they swung with heat.
Loud. Hungry. Help… someone. I want to go home.
Echos of what happened stumbled him. Cole paused their movement. Agony. Woe. Despair. They swirled around him but torment was the most abundant. Someone was dying. He couldn't look, not yet.
"This way. There is a pathway through this room." Roderick pointed. Bookshelves blocked it and soldiers moved, uncaring of the books that fell. It was okay, they were only old paper.
A shifted brick and a doorway. It lead into a cold icy path. People moved quickly hoarding through but they didn't push. There were forks, pathways, the ice cold and dry. But as more people, more heat came through it became wet and slick, glossing with moist ice. Carts were pulled, animals, and things. People brought what they could carry and no more. Barrells of food, blankets, weapons, parcels of herbs, stashes of potions, bandages were left behind. They couldn't take everything but they took what they needed, what they thought was important.
A sparkling man carried another like Cole did. He looked like the fade, it tasted funny and sharp but was friendly and warm. The one in his arms dragged his feet as he shook, fearful of what they ran from.
"Just hold onto me Alexius."
"Dorian. Wait we have to go back."
"Not now. We have to get to safety." The man's mustache twitched and swirled. Cole looked away.
"The other cells. Did you check them?"
"What?"
"There were other prisoners. One in particular. She was asleep."
"She… she wasn't asleep."
"No. No." The man cried and clung to the sparkling one.
The winding whispering tunnels sloped up and down. Stones and growth came into view but everything was still icy and snow. The path let out besides a mountain and they saw the dark night sky. A distant roar had them anxious and urging. Panic whirled around the mass as they moved further from Haven. Cole could feel their hurts in haven. Some buried in snow - bleeding. Others left behind in pain - dying. But they were distant and it was hard to hear and they began dropping as the snow descended down.
Roderick gave a soft cry and prayer as he stumbled and Cole barely caught him as the flare was sent up.
Cole watched, hearing the pain disappear as they passed on into the veil, reclaimed by the fade. A soldier at the gate who survived the first wave. The light and wisp dispersed. A woman trapped beneath rubble, her armor heavy as it crushed the life from her. A child lost, taken in the snow as the ground rumbled. Soldiers in their last final moments. Cole listened and turned away as he sensed the few remaining. They dropped one by one.
Nine lives he could see clearly, drowning in pain and hurt that he couldn't help. One bright sun. As the survivors moved he paid attention to them.
The Commander roared orders to the soldiers. They had to keep moving, no time to wait for any survivors of the Elder One to find them. Trekking through cold and shivers.
Seven thumping hurts.
Six crying out in pain.
Five pleading for death.
Four in solemn acceptance.
Three became numb.
Two...
He looked toward them. One was vibrant and bright this far. The Herald was alive still. Her light strong and pulsing. The other… the other was weak. They would die soon enough. Cole waited and waited. They grew fainter the further Cole moved. They would die soon. In pain. Alone.
NOTES: Look, before you accuse me having too many fics, I would like to say in my defense that I like writing things that are different from the established niche even if it's going to take me years to bloody get anywhere. While a Colemance isn't that different in the fandom (most colemance fics are lost to the void of Cullenmance and Solasmance stories there - SERIOUSLY), but one where the MCIT does not immediately get on the good side of the Inquisition, in fact they think of her as a spy - and what does any Inquisition do with spies? I'll let that sit in your imagination (though the summary really gives it a way).
That aside. Because this is a Colemance, expect soul crushing angst. I warn you RIGHT NOW this fic will not be very happy until the very end.