CHAPTER 1: TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE
Hello everyone. Firstly, I'd like to apologize to all my previous viewers who were hoping to get an update on other stories. Seeing as I only have a limited window of break (Around 3 weeks give or take) to take up writing again, I'm moving onto a new story in mind. So, for those expecting something else, I'm sorry that this may not fit your wishes. To those joining me from the Dragon Age fanfiction, I hope that this story will be one you'll all come back to. I'll do my best, count on that.
Anyway, the summary should handle the details, but just in case here's a basic outline. This story follows my OC, known as the Maker's Seer for his prophetic words. This takes place during the events of Inquisition, with some flashbacks detailing his travels with the Warden during the Fifth Blight and Hawke in his journeys in Kirkwall. The pairings will be displayed, the main one being Leliana and the OC. With that out of the way, onto the show...
The Maker's Seer
He is a mystery, the man many have taken to calling the Maker's Seer. Even after 11 years, few have managed to cull his secrets from him and believe me, many have tried to take his secrets for their own, either by coercion or force. The fact that none of them have succeeded is a little unnerving, considering the parties at play here. What little we do know has yet to be cross-checked and comes mainly from his associates. We know that he is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, having travelled with the Hero of Ferelden and his companions for that fortuitous year. I even had the privilege of meeting the man myself at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, though he was not what I expected from a man made out to be a pious figure. Records then put him in the midst of Kirkwall soon after for the next ten years, where he was involved in the start of the Mage-Templar civil war, the effects of which many of my fellow citizens in Denerim have seen ripple throughout their everyday lives. Many have correctly surmised that the Seer goes where trouble is bound to happen and with rumours that he is to be in attendance at the Conclave, I fear that we're on the brink of a new crisis. Perhaps I may be concerned over nothing. It can also be said that the Seer has aided in lessening the suffering of the world. Whether he be sent by the Maker or something else, I can agree only that he is here to help us.
Excerpt from the journal of Brother Genitivi
One Hour After Conclave Explosion
Smoke and dust billowed out into the once clear air, staining it with unimaginable filth that threatened to choke any normal person caught there for too long. Piles of rubble scattered to the four winds, all remnants from the destroyed Conclave. Nothing of the bodies remained, only a big gaping crater and a pillar of smoke stretching so high into the sky that it could be seen for miles. Amidst all that, one man was panting, swinging left and right with failing strength.
That man was the Maker's Seer, better known as Lucas to those who know him best. He pressed a calloused hand against a still standing stone pillar, catching his breath. Blood was trickling down his forehead, making his already ragged look pale as his skin turned a worrying shade of white with each minute that passed. Brown eyes glinting forward, he barely made anything out in the dust. With a grunt, he pressed onward, daring to look back only once for the demons chasing up behind him.
'Why did I even come to the Conclave? What was I thinking? I knew what was going to happen and yet... Damn my hero sensibilities!' He cursed silently, tumbling through the sheet of thick, white snow. From behind, a rage demon slithered forward in pursuit, its flame a beacon of danger looming in the background. With renewed purpose, Lucas tried to break into a brisk pace. He only got so far, feet tripping over a buried root and planting him face first into the snow. 'Shit, shit! Come on, get up!' He groaned, using his hands to push himself back until he found himself knocking against an old tree, the bark rough and calloused against his clothes.
As the demon eyed its prey with a hunger, Lucas instinctively drew his dagger from his belt and took a stab at it, the blade plunging deep into the lava-esque body. The demon writhed in pain, slithering right and left in an effort to shake the annoying piece of metal lodged in it. Lucas saw his opportunity, hurriedly getting on his feet and dashing off into the snowy wasteland. Eventually, the iron blade started to melt into an amorphous mess, the now liquid dagger dripping harmlessly onto the snow as the demon pursued with renewed interest. Lucas ran and ran, dragging his feet. 'Closest place is Haven. Hopefully, the pack of cultists there have been cleared out by now...' Lucas recalled his last excursion with a twinge of bitterness. He felt his boots find ground on an almost covered dirt path. Looking up, a sign pointing to his right was emblazoned with the word 'Haven' written on it with a crude style, almost as if they did it by using a dagger without any sense of finesse. 'Finally, some good bloody news.' The demon roared with anger in the near distance, rattling the leaves on the trees surrounding the path, sheets of snow shaking loose onto the ground. Needing no further persuasion, Lucas headed down the path as best he could.
It took him five minutes to walk down the path, with the demon thankfully having given up pursuit after he left the forest, no doubt to search for easier prey. Blood dropped from his head drop by drop, leaving a small yet distinct trail behind him. 'Great, now I'm bloody Hansel...' He snarkily commented to himself. His hands gripped his stomach, trying to keep his body steady. His teeth started to chatter and his fingers felt numb to the touch, barely moving when he tried to make them do so. 'So I'm going to die of blood loss... or frostbite... How lovely...' Lucas carried on, summoning the will to press on from out of nowhere. Soon enough, the faint outline of Haven nestled at the foot of the mountain loomed into view, amidst a background of the sky turning greener and greener with each passing hour. 'Bloody eyesore, that thing is... Why can't the end of the world at least look nice?' He mused, his eyes almost transfixed to the Breach, legs merely walking like on autopilot.
Shadows started to fade into his line of sight, popping out from behind trees and fanning out to face him. One drew back on what appeared to be a bow, whilst two others brandished a sword / shield combo and two-handed axe respectively. As the shadows advanced, Lucas stepped back fearfully, his already pale shade turning ever so white with it. Having barely held on for the last hour with a splitting headache and light-headedness, Lucas eventually collapsed from sheer exhaustion, his body slumping backwards, hitting the snow with a soft thump, eyes slamming shut and hands clasped to his side like he was trying to protect himself. The last thing his senses gave him was the sound of the soldiers stepping forward, their boots trudging gently in the winter snow.
He remained out cold for the next two hours, barely responsive as the men and women of the newly formed Inquisition carried him back to the Chantry, laying him down on one of the makeshift beds they had set up in the equally makeshift infirmary. His body was covered in a warm blanket, one of the few they could spare, given current events. The smell of medicine wafted through the air, matched only by the smell of the dank and grit of the materials surrounding them. He was starting to stir, his eyes nothing but tiny slits of light filtering in, his consciousness starting to fade into the forefront.
"Do we have any more elfroot? I can't seem to find any." He heard a kind yet seemingly exhausted voice ring out. Twisting his head bit by bit, Lucas could make out the shadow of a sister in service to the Chantry, hunched over a box lying on the ground as her hands frantically rifled through its contents in search of the mentioned herb.
"Not much, sister. We're starting to run out." Another voice replied, to which he could only guess was someone aiding the sister. The voice sounded just as feminine, though with less of that sweet tone to dull the sharp tone she was taking on.
"Well, hurry and get someone to harvest some. More people are coming in every hour and we need supplies if we're to help the wounded."
"We have more wounded! Make way!" A soldier exclaimed as he burst through the doors with panting breath. Lucas almost felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the doors swing open with a mighty boom. Several men and women all being transported on gurneys were carried into the room, some of them howling in pain. Crude bandages covered the less severe injuries while the rest were unfortunately left to have its day in the sun, blood seeping from wounds trying desperately to heal. Some had more of a concussion problem, the soldiers gripping their hand in barely concealed agony.
"Maker's breath! Hurry and get that elfroot, dear!" The sister spoke, prompting her aide to rush out behind the soldier, no doubt going to fetch more patients for them to tend to.
"At once, sister!" As soon as the aide left, Lucas heard the main hall doors slam open. At first, he assumed it was merely the aide leaving the Chantry, but as time wore on, so too did the sounds of people bickering start to grab his attention. Weak as he was, Lucas pushed himself into a more upright position to listen in on the conversation. 'And here comes the Inquisition full swing... Perfect, crisis number three...' Lucas thought to himself as he was fortunate to have the door open at just the right angle, allowing him to see the two main dissenting voices in that heated argument.
"As Grand Chancellor, I'm ordering you to escort the prisoner to Val Royeaux for sentencing!" Roderick spoke harshly, pointing a grubby finger at a person off to the right, blocked from Lucas' view by the door. 'Must be the Inquisitor. Wonder what he... or she is like...'
"I do not answer to you, Chancellor. We have no time for bureaucracies. Our priority is closing the Breach and the prisoner is the only one who can close them." Cassandra Penthagast answered in kind, her own hand making gestures as she replied to Roderick.
"That does not mean you can harbour a criminal! Or have you forgotten what has happened?"
"Do I not have a say in the matter?" The Inquisitor finally spoke, in an almost condescending tone that dared retribution. The tone of his voice suggested male and from the Free Marches, Lucas deducing that he was Inquisitor Trevelyan from Ostwick. 'Well, looks like my theory was correct. Don't know if that makes things easier...' His head started to pang with residual headaches, making him see the need for proper bed rest. 'Right, just... take it easy, Lucas. You'll have plenty of time to get stuck in with the rest of the lot.' As he took to sleep once more, he missed hearing what came next.
"Cassandra, I need to tend to our agents. They may still have information on the Breach."
"Alright, Leliana. We'll brief you later." Cassandra replied, escorting both Trevelyan and Roderick into the war room while Leliana made her way to the infirmary.
"This isn't over!" Roderick echoed one final sentiment before disappearing into the war room. Leliana shook her head with disappointment, before stepping into the infirmary.
"Sister, how are my agents doing?" Leliana said, her eyes watching one of her agents as she laid out on the bed, her chest rising up and down at an alarming rate, lost in a nightmare while her arm was a stream of blood barely stymied by the crude bandages her fellow agents had slapped on her.
"I just got them! I do not have enough hands to deal with my patients let alone your agents!" The sister responded to her pestering with a grim and stern look on her face, momentarily pausing in her treatment of her patient, still groaning in pain behind her. Leliana took the hint, nodding gravely and stepping away to allow the sister to carry out her work. She took a glance at the chest meant to store all their restorative materials, noting how it seemed almost barren at this stage.
"We want for many things, it seems." Leliana commented as her hands dug through the scraps left behind, none of it falling on deaf ears.
"I've sent out runners. Hopefully Haven's surroundings will provide." The sister wistfully thought, wrapping a fresh bandage around a new wound. It remained deathly silent for a few moments, Leliana merely watching as the Chantry sister settled into a groove, darting between patients like she was on a timer.
"Ugghh... What's...what's going on?" Lucas groaned out, breaking the silence as he finally felt rested enough to pull himself out from his short nap. It took a lot of effort simply to keep him propped up against the bedframe behind his back. At his familiar tone of disposition, Leliana made an abrupt spin on her heels, head spinning in place to see him. 'Could it be...?'
"That voice... Lucas?" She answered incredulously, the bard rushing over to her lover's side with a brisk pace in her step. Lucas could barely contain his own surprise at seeing her, feeling her arms wrap around his body with a gentle touch, her loving warmth a comfort in this land of nightmares.
"Leli...Leliana? Is that you?" Lucas mumbled out.
"Maker, what happened to you?" Her eyes went straight down to check him once over, seeing nothing but wounds and bruises. "Sister, bring me a poultice!" Her bark gave the Chantry sister a jolt in her step, making her yelp like a tiny dog. Meeting that response with a barely audible 'hmmph', the sister left to acquiesce to Leliana's demands.
"You're going to be alright, love. I'm here." Her hand traced an outline across Lucas' cheek, a feeling he reciprocated with a short yet sweet smile. It slowly dissolved into a expression of confusion, eyes darting back and forth.
"Wha...What's going on? I remember... being at... the... the..." Lucas stuttered, his memory trying to piece itself back from the copious amount of blood lost. It took him at least a minute to finally gather his senses, all sixty seconds of which Leliana stared into his eyes with a worried frown etched across her eyebrows.
"The Conclave exploded, didn't it?" Lucas' hands tugged at the blankets, the memory of the explosion still etched like a damning scar on his soul, terrifying him despite his years of experience with the weird and unnatural.
"Yes." Leliana replied in a calm manner, already keenly aware of his unusually sound gut reactions. 'I guess he knew it was going to happen. I wonder if he was here to stop it. Or maybe...'
"Anyone other than your prisoner survived?" He interrupted her train of thought before it could reach its destination.
"Not that we know of. Why?" She asked. Lucas raised his hand from the comfort of the blanket and held it out, palm facing up towards the ceiling. Scrunching his face in concentration, Lucas felt a rush of unfamiliar energy pulse through his heart and into his hand, erupting in a glow of greenish-white, tendrils of stray energy looping like vines in thin air. Leliana's eyes widened, awe-struck not only by the spectacle of it, but also due to its implication on what it meant for her lover.
"I think you found another one." He said grimly, looking down at his hand as the energy started to recede back into place, his arm collapsing to his side as he gave a long-winded sigh. Like it or not, the Seer was now more than just he is. Now... he was a suspect too...
The Inquisition's soldiers carried Lucas in with iron rusted chains wrapped around his hands, both guards having to prop him on their bulky shoulder plates as Lucas was still too weak to walk on his own. Leliana escorted the three of them to the war room, still looking rather pensive as they met the door. She rapped on the wooden oak barrier separating them, the door swinging open to reveal Cassandra's exasperated face greeting them all, her hand gripping tightly on the door frame.
"What is it now, Leliana? I'm still trying to deal with the Chancellor." Pushing the door a little further apart, Lucas and Leliana could make Roderick, sitting in a chair and looking absolutely livid, hands clenched into balls of fists so tightly that it looked as though some veins were starting to pop up across his fingers.
"I'm afraid there have been some... complications in the matter." Leliana put it rather bluntly, a contrast that Cassandra quickly picked up on.
"Is this related to the Breach?"
"Yes, Cassandra."
"Another survivor?"
"Not just any survivor." Leliana moved aside to allow Cassandra the opportunity to meet the man in question.
"Cassandra, meet the Seer. Lucas, this is Cassandra." Leliana stepped aside for Cassandra to see Lucas in chains. Lucas merely gave a nod of his head, whilst playing around with the clinking sounds the chains were prone to make.
"The Maker's Seer! I did not realize..." Her face went wide with surprise, her mouth agape. Lucas had seen that sort of expression first, the kind that he usually associated with wide-eyed admirers, pure fanatics and the people in general. 'One of these days, I'm going to pay a visit to whatever idiot decided to give me that title...'
"Can we continue this conversation in private, Cassandra?" the spymaster's eyes shifted to the two guards flanking Lucas, then to Chancellor Roderick still sitting in his chair fuming.
"Leave us." Cassandra motioned to the two men standing to either side of Lucas. Both tapped their fists to their chests, before making a 180 and leaving. Roderick meanwhile was left to stew in the war room as Cassandra led the three of them into a separate room, closing and locking the door behind them. It was cramped, seeing as it was being used for storage. Lucas made out several cases with the Amell insignia emblazoned on them, no doubt care packages from Kirkwall. 'I wonder what story is behind them?' He pondered.
"So, Leliana tells me you too bear the mark. The same mark our prisoner has." Cassandra jumped straight into business.
"So it would seem." He said wistfully.
"Care to explain what happened at the Conclave?" Her arms folded over each other, her boot tapping impatiently on the floor.
"No." Lucas took all of two seconds to come up with an answer. His face looked like he was waiting on something to happen.
"No?" Cassandra repeated, looking highly peeved at Lucas.
"You heard me the first time, Seeker. Answer's no." He responded with a plain tone. Resolve tested, Cassandra was all too eager to get up in Lucas' personal space, a move which tested the seer's own will to remain calm.
"What is the point of withholding information that may help us save lives? Is that not the Maker's will?"
"Allow me to answer that, Cassandra. You see, his powers come from the knowledge the Maker has passed down onto him. If too much is changed, then his information becomes redundant, pointless." Leliana stepped in on behalf of her lover.
"So that is why the Grey Wardens of Fereldan were wiped out by Teryn Loghain? And why the mage rebellion occurred?" Cassandra responded with a look of pure disbelief plastered on her. How could she not, to think that life was to be wasted as part of some overarching plan.
"An unfortunate price... Yet ultimately a price that must be paid regardless." Lucas answered with a guilty expression. 'It's not like I wanted people to die! But sometimes saving the ones who can be saved is better than trying to save those who can't.' He chanted to himself, trying to convince himself of the necessity of the act.
"If he has the mark too, then we have two chances to close the Breach. That would put our odds more evenly, I think." Leliana cast her opinion into the ring, getting a repressed nod from Cassandra.
"I suppose closing the Breach is the most pressing issue at the time. At the same time..." Cassandra started tapping the sword holstered to her belt, the glint on the blade's hilt sending a chill down their captive's spine.
"He could be our suspect and I'm eager to see how far his predictions are accurate. Two birds with one stone." Lucas gulped hard, the lump in his throat just making his skin
"You'll be fine, love. Just... try not to get her angry." Leliana chuckled as she pecked his cheek once before heading for the door, deciding to give them some privacy while she went to dealing with Butler. 'A little payback for him... This should be fun...'
"Heh... You're joking... Right, Leliana?" He laughed hysterically, still believing it to be a joke. When evidence proved otherwise, that's when he started getting worried.
"Leliana? Joke's over! Please help me out of this mess!" And Lucas could only watch with a fake smile as Cassandra grabbed a chair from behind some boxes and planted herself firmly on it, looking almost pleased with herself as she stretched her legs and arms, making a cracking noise with her knuckles that elicited a whimper from the man. 'Sigh... Note to self, never piss off Leliana again...'
Haven, Main Entrance
It wasn't a good day for Maxwell Trevelyan. After all, just a few hours ago he was nothing more than a noble wanting to see peace restored through the Conclave. Now, he had a weird mark etched on his hand and people were either revering him as an instrument of the Maker or vilifying him as the man who was responsible for the Conclave explosion. 'How did this happen?' was the most frequent question running in his mind. As Cassandra and Leliana were busy, Maxwell decided to make small talk with Varric Tethras, the dwarf with the weird-looking crossbow. Maxwell felt his armour chafe slightly against the cold winter wind, his battleplate ill-suited to fight in these conditions.
"Ah, the Herald of Andraste. What can I do for you, my friend?" Varric spoke vibrantly, with a witty tone to boot. His hands stretched out to both sides, a welcoming gesture that Maxwell was all too eager to see.
"Maker, please. Do not call me that. I do not need more people fawning over me this early in the morning." Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling nauseous from the idea. He wasn't an avid fan of the Chantry nor was he a firm believer in the Maker. Still, some god had to be wandering around for this to happen. That much he believed.
"Why not? I wish my readers were this rabid. Ever thought about writing a book?" Varric joked.
"I'll leave that to you, Varric. You have a much better way with words." Maxwell played along.
"Of course... I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"So what brings you here?" He asked, wondering how he had come to join this merry band of outcasts and heretics.
"Well, my acquaintance just happened to be the Champion of Kirkwall. Naturally, Cassandra was interested in how the mage rebellion got started. She was bringing me here to speak with the Divine. Not sorry we didn't get here earlier." Varric and Maxwell's eyes went high, up to the hole in the sky that was still raining down green fireballs at sporadic intervals.
"What happened to the rest of her companions?" He broached the subject, eager to hear a first-hand account, rather than some made-up story. 'Ironic, considering I'm asking a dwarf from the Merchants Guild.'
"Well, let's see... I know Fenris is still with her, last I heard from him. I'll bet she's enjoying the broodiness. Merrill went to help out the refugees along with Carver. Those two make a weird pair. Aveline's still guard captain, though considering the situation, it might not be for much longer. Isabela is probably out on the high seas, doing whatever suits her fancy. And Anders... Well, the less I know where he is, the better." At the mention of Anders, there was a clear loathing entering his tone, plus the fact that Varric's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
"The apostate who blew up the Kirkwall Chantry?" Maxwell responded.
"That's the one... Oh, there was one more person. Weird guy, always seems to be making these crazy prophecies that come true most of the time."
"The Maker's Seer? He knew the Champion of Kirkwall?"
"And the Hero of Ferelden before that. He gets around. People who know him just call him Lucas."
"What's he like?"
"To be honest, he's... complicated. He'll help you out whenever he can, stick up for the party in the right. But... I've never seen the guy smile. Whenever he does his thing, he's always... sad." The tone was confused, which did little to allay Maxwell's questions about the man. 'So, even his closest compatriots doesn't know much about him. Weird.'
"Sounds like your friend Fenris."
"You'd think that, but Fenris can be fun to hang around with. Lucas... In his words, he's just too cynical to have fun."
"Probably has to do with that strange request he made of Hawke." Varric rubbed his head as the thought came to mind. Hawke never told anyone exactly what it was that Lucas requested, only that he did so. And judging by his behaviour in the Hanged Man the very next day, the party could only surmise the meeting did not end well.
"Master Tethras!" A messenger suddenly shouted, shattering Varric's train of thought. The two men watched the messenger huff and puff, running as fast as he could to reach them.
"Uh oh... this can't be good."
"What did you do now?" Varric merely shrugged his shoulders in response. Maxwell stared at the running figure as he finally reached them, bending over in complete exhaustion, chest rising up and down as he attempted to catch his breath.
"Spymaster... Leliana wishes to... speak with you... Huff..." The message paused with each long breath he took, though the gist of it was conveyed readily to the both of them. Pointing to the Chantry, the messenger escorted Varric to the place, the dwarf giving a wave goodbye to Maxwell before leaving. As instructed, Varric went as fast as his small dwarf legs could take him, eventually reaching the infirmary and swinging the oak doors wide open.
"What's the racket, Nightingale? I was regaling the Herald with tales of..." Varric stopped mid-sentence when he saw Lucas lying down on the bed right in front of him.
"Nice to meet you too, Varric." Lucas replied with a wry smile. He was absconded in his bed, drained from a long and arduous battle of words with Cassandra. His arm could barely raise itself to give a curt wave, fingers shaking as if they were numb to the bone.
"Well, I'll be a nug uncle..." Varric's eyes widened with shock. It was like seeing an old friend come back from nowhere. Varric was really pleased. 'Well, at least there's one friendly face in all of this.'
"So, I guess Cassandra did what she does best..." Varric jested, walking into the infirmary with a wry, mischievous smile on his face. The infirmary doors closed behind him, leaving the people outside to only ponder what was really happening in there. Only one thing was for certain. The Inquisition has risen once more and while its purpose is yet unclear, some theorized that their organization may yet be instrumental in shaping the events to follow.
So here comes the end of the first chapter. Not up to my usual standards, but considering my absence, I will try and get back into the groove as soon as possible. Until then, stay tuned and see you guys soon...