A/N: Hello all! Everything here but for the storyline is Bioware's. I've posted this story on my Tumblr account too. Search siwanlavellan if you want to find me.

All the best!

L.G


A Helping Hand?

After losing her Clan to The Breach, Siwan Lavellan didn't dream. There were no more meadows for her when she slept. No more Halla rides or fields of flowers. No more laughing friends or festivals; ten year meets or stories with the Hahren. No fireflies dancing in clouds on spring nights.

There were only memories. Nightmares. Blood and fire and the sickly green Breach that stretched down, no matter what she did, how she screamed, and burned her Clan to cinders.

After losing her Clan to The Breach, Siwan Lavellan didn't dream. So when her eyes opened and she found the Fade around her, she feared the worst. The influx. The rushing in of pain and horror and the taste of ash that wasn't ash really - was her brethren and her mother, really - on her tongue. Its scent in her nose. The dry burn in her throat and her lungs as she breathed it in and it collected; choking. To be coughed up in chunks in a cell for days after the event while she was branded a murderer. Questioned by those who didn't understand what she'd lost. Why she cried.

She waited.

But it never came.

There was softness at first. Softness on her skin and a gentle tugging - on her wrists; at her centre. Pulling forward without really pulling. Guiding forth. Giving direction as the world around her became so bright it was blinding but in a way, somehow, that didn't hurt her eyes.

She moved with it, that guidance that came, with her every step forward, to feel more like instinct; like she knew this place and where she was going. Like she'd been here before. Walked these realms while waking even though she couldn't see them. Could see nothing but the misty whiteness that made up the world.

Scent came next. Fresh dew on mild air. Scent and feeling for she could feel it on her face. Dew like that she used to move through when the Clan slept and she, watchful she, was patrolling their camp's border. She breathed it in deeply; smiled as her hands came up and wiped her cheeks and brow; laughed softly, breathily, as she looked down at them and found them moist.

Then a voice. "Da'len?"

And she froze and was motion and noise at once for she knew that word. Knew the voice that spoke it. "Mamae!?" she shrieked, whipping round. Expecting the nightmare. The image of her mother, her Clan's Keeper, charred and lifeless. Talking as though she were not.

What she saw though..The woman, whole..And around her their Clan, whole..It banished thoughts of nightmares. Banished everything but that instinctive tug; gentle again but insistent upon her wrists; her centre.

Go to them, it told her.

Go to them, not come to me as would be the beckoning of a demon.

"Da'len, we've found you!"

We, not I as would be the beckoning of a demon.

Siwan reached for them reflexively, and it felt as if she was breaking free from some gentle restraint to do it. That the effort it took freed her to go to them. Emotion soared in her chest for it - that freedom - and with a cry, "Mamae!", she ran.

And Cole…

Hidden, cloaked still, Cole allowed himself a faint smile. It'd been a close thing. She'd almost knocked into him…almost broken the little illusion he'd made for her, the little safe place he'd found to let her dream of the family she'd lost…but he'd released her wrists and sidestepped in time and watched now, pleased that he'd helped.