My first ever DA fic. I've been a fan of the franchise ever since it came out, but never attempted a fanfic. Now that Inquisition's has come out, I feel the need to write about this amazing game.

This is going to follow a mage Trevelyan. Since I felt that the origin was somewhat whisked away along with the horror's a mage would experience during the rebellion, the conflicts of killing her own 'kind', the Trevelyan family who are pre-chantry and severe Andrastians, practically being declared holy and the weight of the world on ones shoulders. All those things combined does something to a person, which I sortof missed a bit in DA:I where the character was a strong-willed man/woman of nature. What if one wasn't strong-willed to begin with, and actually terrified and reluctant, but forced to go on, willingly or not.

I want to discover that during this fic. Some would consider it mary-sue, but when isn't something mary-sue? XD The perfect character has yet to be written and a mary-sue doesn't have to be a bad thing perse.

This story will definitely begin dark and a bit repetitive the first two chapters. After that, when the base is there, I can build my own world. It follows the DA:I storyline with a few changes of my own gently weaved into it. I hope you like it.

Constructive critiscm is always appreciated, not; THIS SUCKS, or other mean short reviews that can't help me grow in my writing. Don't like, don't read! :)

REMEMBER: English is not my mother-language! I will try to reduce the mistakes to a minimum, but I am only human. Now, onwards!

Chapter 01: Prologue

Hard, cold stone pressing against her cheeks. Wrists bound. Whispers.

These sensations grow until they woke her from her dark slumber. Shivering of cold and a probable fever she opened her eyes and moved to sit on her knees, which proved quite the task for her hands and feet were bound together and chained to the ground. Why was her left hand aching so much?

A door in front of her opened and soldiers came rushing in, forming a circle around her with drawn swords. She startled, her heart drumming against the inside of her ribcage, and the pain in her left hand suddenly flared up causing her to gasp. It burst into bright green flames, tendrils... whatever it was. It disappeared as sudden as it had come, but the pain didn't disappear with it, nor the whispers though her jailors didn't seem to be the source from it. Fear curled around in her stomach, demons?

The soldiers around her were tensed, the tips of theirs swords menacing in the faint orange light of the torches on the walls in this.. dungeon. She closed her eyes, trying to contain her fear.

'What is happening? All I remember is the Conclave..'

Two pair of footsteps walking towards her, made her look up again. One pair strong, powerful belonged to an equally powerful woman striding towards her with a look of accusation in her eyes. She wore plate mail and her build was that of a warrior. The other was slyer, keeping more to the shadows, her purple cowl hiding most of her facial features. An assassin?

The warrior woman stepped into her little circle of swords, in an instant those threatening blades were sheathed. The woman commanded them..

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the woman growled from behind her, her voice containing a thick accent. Circling her like a hawk searching for its prey; it was equally as menacing as the swords pointed at her moments ago. "The Conclave is destroyed," she continued. "Everyone who attended.. is dead. Except for you," the woman pointed at her.

"Except for me.. I.. what happened? That's horrible!" She stammered, tripping over her hoarse voice trying to contain her confused babbling.

'Everyone is.. My family is-'

The warrior woman grabbed her by her shackles and pulled up her left hand forcefully, which burst out in green flames again. She flinched and gritted her teeth not to cry out. She will not do that, she will not be weak.

"Explain this," the woman had hissed and dropped her hand.

"I," she began and tried to come up with an explanation why her hand glowed green. In all her years of magic she had never encountered this so she.. "I can't."

"What do you mean; you can't?!" the woman cried out. Her jawline tensing and her brown eyes enflamed as she looked down upon her. It made anger push away her fear and flare up in her blood.

"I don't know what that is! I can't explain it other than it hurts. Why am I he-!?"

Strong, iron clad hands clamped down on her shoulders forcefully and that menacing face was brought close to hers in a fit of rage. "You're lying!" The woman spat and wanted to pull back a fist to hurt her, but was pulled away by the other one clad in purple. They retreated momentarily in the shadows and whispered incoherently, before the one in purple broke away and stood before her. She was equally intimidating as the other one, but less of the 'in-your-face' type. It gave her room to think.

"What is your name?"

"Gwyneth.. Gwyneth Trevelyan," she muttered and looked down at her lap to her bound wrists. Just like that time in the Circle.. "I don't understand."

"Do you know what happened? How all of this began? How the Conclave was destroyed?"

Gwyn tried to make sense of her muddled thoughts and images came to mind. "I remember running. Spider-like things were chasing me. Then I saw a woman."

"A woman?"

"I remember her reaching out to me. I tried to grasp her hand, but then.." Gwyn sighed. There was nothing more and she felt inexplicably drained. Her eyes travelled to her left hand.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will bring her to the rift."

In an instant the warrior woman was kneeling in front of her, freeing her from her shackles but tied a long rope in her hands like the prisoner she apparently was. "What did happen?" Gwyn asked as she stood on her wobbly legs. The woman stared into her eyes for a moment.

"It will be easier to show you. Come on."

Gwyn was forced to follow the woman who literally had her life in her hands in the form of a rope connected to bound wrists. All hope of escaping dissolved; the more they went up, the more soldiers there appeared to be. Gwyn knew that if she used magic to burn the robes and run, she would probably be cut down instantly. A demoralizing thought.

The freezing mountain wind blew through her thin layer of clothing as they went outside. There was no sun, just the grey ominous clouds between the mountains and.. Gwyn gasped in pain and kneeled.

A large rift was hovering in the sky, glowing an eerie green just as her hand. It crackled with lightening and fiery comets were hurling out of it. Even from this distance, Gwyn could see tendrils of the fade past the clouds.

"We call it 'The Breach'. It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only one, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

The pain finally dimmed a bit as her hand stopped glowing and Gwyn was left breathless. It was fiercer than last time. "An explosion can do that?! That's insane!"

"This one did," the woman said as she looked at Gwyn's hand. "As The Breach grows, so does your mark. It's killing you, but it may be the key to stopping this."

"You first wanted to punch me and now you want my help?"

"The Breach will not stop growing unless it swallows the whole world, with us in it. Everyone will die, either by the hand of demons or being hurled into the Fade. They are both cruel deaths."

Gwyn looked at the woman, inside those menacing eyes she could also see desperation. This is was gamble, but one willing to make. Even if she was the cause of this shit. Gwyn couldn't say for herself, for she did not remember.

"I will help you. Whatever it takes."

There was a brief shimmer of relief in the woman's brown eyes before she pulled Gwyn up and pushed her in right direction towards camp. The menacing demeanour seemed to soften a bit.

There were not only soldiers walking around, but also civilians, refugees. They glared at her with so much anger and hate, that Gwyn casted her eyes down to her feet and allowed the woman to guide her. She did not want to witness it. Suddenly, something hard and with force behind it, hit her on the cheek that made her stammer back and fall on the ground.

Her cheek tingled with a sharp and burning sensation. She reached up and felt something warm and wet coat her fingers. Blood. Gwyn felt her anger rise and her magic flare in the process that she desperately tried to contain. 'No! Not here, not now. Keep calm, recite.'

"Modest in temper, bold in deed."

There was some shouting before her and a grunt of someone being punched. Gwyn kept reciting her family's motto as she slowly got on her feet, feeling her blood cool. The cold air stinging her cheek. Her guardian clamped her hand on her left shoulder and urged her to move along.

"The people had judged you guilty. They need it for they've lost our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. The Conclave was her idea in a last effort to unite the Mages and Templars."

They moved in silenced for a moment. Gwyn often flinched when her mark started to glow green again and spread across her hand when The Breach in the sky thundered and tear the sky even more open. The woman, who introduced herself as Cassandra, had unbound her the moment there were outside the camp and praying eyes. But despite the small freedom, Gwyn was still a prisoner.

At one point they encountered demons. Not unfamiliar with them during the rebellion in the Circle of Ostwick where poor sods resorted to blood magic, Gwyn dealt with them swiftly with the aid of Cassandra's excellent swordsmanship. As soon as it was over, she found herself staring down the tip of a blade once more.

"Drop your weapon," Cassandra growled and gestured to the staff in her hands.

"We just fought demons, how am I supposed to defend myself if I am denied a weapon? Also it's not like I am completely harmless without it," Gwyn spat back and took a step towards the warrior. Who did not back down. She was a mage, she did not need a staff to do harm but it certainly helped to amplify her abilities. Which could be useful for they had no idea what to encounter next. What if there were more demons?

Sighing Cassandra sheathed her sword. "Fine. But I will be watching you, if you any of your magic on my men.." she let the threat hover in the air between them. Gwyn nodded.

"I won't hurt them unless they hurt me first. That man back there with the rock caught me by surprise, next time I will be prepared." She gripped her staff tightly. "I will also remind you that I came willingly. If I wanted to do you harm, I would already have done so."

The pair continued to fight their way through demonic creatures and the like. On the way to the forward camp, Gwyn met a dwarf named Varric and an elf named Solas, who seemed to have been watching over her ever since she came walking out of the Fade. Varric seemed to have some history with Cassandra, but judging by the lady's glares and Varric's mischievous glint in his eyes; not a very good one.

"So, are you innocent?" Varric asked as they neared the camp.

"What?" Gwyn breathed heavily. They have been climbing up an enormous staircase for some time now. She cursed her lack of stamina. Her mind was also too absorbed about what happened moments ago. Solas had grasped her left hand and lifted it towards a Fade Rift. It closed when it reacted with her Mark. The strange feeling; as if something pulled at her very soul through her hand, was still very fresh in her memories and occupied her thoughts. Since that worked, they were now going to have a try at The Breach.

One way or another, she was to face trial. Presumably ending in death.

"Are you innocent of killing the Conclave?"

"I.. don't remember what happened, but I hope not," she muttered and tried to regain control of her breathing. Finally the staircase ended, her sore legs almost screamed in delight.

Varric tsked and shook his head. His breathing wasn't even accelerated, nor were Solas' or Cassandra's. Gwyn felt terribly out of shape. "That'll get you every time. Should've spun a story."

"That's what you would have done," Cassandra glared at Varric as they walked upon another flight of stairs, but this time a lot less longer than the first.

"Of course! It's more believe-able and less prone to result in premature execution."

Gwyn tried to ignore that comment as they walked passed the gates of the camp, but as they neared Leliana and a sour-faced priest she found it hard to banish the word 'execution' out of her mind. Where they really going to do that?

"Ah. There they are," the man drawled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You made it. Chancellor Roderick this is-"

"Leliana I am well aware who she is. As the Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"Order me?" Cassandra snapped. "You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat."

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor. As you well know," Leliana said. Effectively interrupting the glaring contest between Roderick and Cassandra.

"But Divine Justinia is dead! We must elect a successor and hear her opinion on the matter."

"The Breach seems a more pressing issue to me than deciding who is going to be the next Divine," Gwyn murmured and looked up at the sky. It seemed even more ominous now than before.

Roderick's face reddened and he yelled, thrusting his finger in her direction. "YOU brought this on us the first place. Call a retreat Seeker, our position here is hopeless."

"No, I will not. We can stop this before it's too late with the help of the prisoner. Her mark closes Fade Rifts, we may as well try it with The Breach," Cassandra stepped forward, gently pushing Gwyn backward so that she was out centre of Roderick's attention. "There will be casualties, there is no way around that. But we need to get to the Temple it's the quickest route-"

"But not the safest. Our forces can be used as a distraction while we go through the mountains," Leliana pointed west to the snow covered pass. Even more climbing, Gwyn dreaded.

"Listen to me," Chancellor Roderick murmured, almost begging them. "Abandon this now before it's too late and we all die."

"If we abandon this we are certain that death will be upon us. What do you say Trevelyan? You will be the one closing The Breach and since we can't decide on our own- How do you think we should proceed?"

"You want me to decide?" Gwyn frowned and flinched when her hand started burn again. The Breach kept spreading and the way she kept feeling feverish wasn't a very good sign she supposed. What should she do? Charge with the rest or head up the mountains pass? She risked death either way and will probably die afterwards. What did it matter?

"I think I won't survive long enough for you trial anyway, judging how this looks. Whatever happens, we do it now. All or nothing. We charge with the soldiers."

'Prepare the sacrifice.'

'Someone, help me!'

'What's going on here?!'

'Help me!'

With a start Gwyn woke.

She felt drained, tired and her attempts to get some more sleep were in vain despite her fatigue. Images of green fire, blinding pain, demons and her fighting for her life burned in mind. After that all she could remember was dark and blissful sleep. What happened? Deciding that lying in bed and pondering about it would not bring her answers, Gwyn slowly said up. Struggling against a cruel headache.

"Oh!"

A young, elven woman had entered. A small box she held fell out of her arms and connected hard with the floor. Gwyn cringed at the sound.

"Y-you're awake! I-I didn't know! I swear!" The girl stammered, her big eyes filled with fright.

"Don't worry about it. I only-" Gwyn's face twisted with horror when the elven girl fell on her knees and bowed deeply for her.

"I beg you for forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant," the words leaving the girl's trembling lips. Gwyneth threw her legs over the edge of the bed, the soft fabric stroking her bare legs as she did so. Her bare toes touched fur as she set them on the floor.

"Where am I? I'm surprised that they have not yet thrown me into the dungeons," Gwyneth softly whispered and looked around. The house where she was in was small, but cosy. All kinds of hunting trophies adorned the wall and several types of fur covered the wooden floor.

"You are back in Haven, my lady," the elf spoke, daring to give Gwyn a glance before staring at the floor again. "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing just like the Mark on your hand."

Gwyn held up her left hand. There was a faint white line across the entirety of her palm and even some part of her wrist. Here and there green tendrils escaped the fine line. It was still hurting, but not as bad as before. The whispers in her head had also reduced in their intensity, now they were a mere fickle of the mind.

"It's all everyone has talked about these past three days," the elven girl murmured. Her eyes staring at Gwyn's hand full of reverence. It made her uneasy.

"Three days," Gwyneth repeated and glanced once more at her marked hand before clenching it to a fist and lowering it to her lap. Her eyes focused on her toes. "So I guess the trial will happen? Now that I have awoken?"

"I-I don't know anything about that," the girl murmured and stood up. Her demeanour was suddenly skittish. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know that you have wakened. She said; 'At once!'"

Slowly Gwyn stood up, her muscles still sore from the unused quantity of exertion three days back. A nightgown that she did not recall having covered her features. The brim tickled her knees. "Where will I find her?"

The elven girl was now slowly backing away towards the door. "The Lady is in the Chantry, with the lord Chancellor. 'At once!' she said," and with that the girl hastily exited the house, leaving Gwyn alone with her stuff.

Gwyneth used her time to wash and dress in a new set of pants, a belt for her potions, a pair of black sturdy boots, a tight dark brown shirt and a warm tail coat that was accented with grey fur. It offered movement and protection, Gwyn could feel the magic of the wards radiating from it.

The servant had also brought her a small looking-glass. Did she dare it? Taking a sigh to muster up her courage, Gwyneth looked at herself in the mirror. The sight was pure horror.

Her mahogany-coloured hair, always tamed and neat, now had resemblances to a birds nest. It stuck up in almost every direction possible. Her worn blue eyes took in the sight with dread. She took the hairbrush from the box and began with her self-inflicted torture session

During it, Gwyneth noticed the cut on her right cheekbone from the stone thrown at her. It was larger than it had felt and looked crusty. The cut was a real eyesore, around it her normally pale, slightly freckled skin was bruised blue and green. After quite some time of grooming the birds nest, she finally pulled her long wavy hair in a messy bun and shook her fringe out of her sleep-rimmed eyes. It was still messy, but at least more presentable. Then, after a few deep breaths, she stepped outside.

There was no way she could be left wandering around Haven, looking where the heck the Chantry was. For the way towards it was lined with rows and rows of people. All gasping, whispering and standing on their toes to look pass the soldiers to catch a glimpse of her.

"That's her!" They whispered. "The Herald of Andraste! She closed The Breach!"

Gwyneth was never one for religion. The Trevelyan family were devoted Andrastians, but she herself could not bring herself to follow their beliefs. As a child she obediently went with her brothers and parents to each sermon and sing the Chant of Light, among other ones. Even if there was some form of belief from her part, that was quickly crushed when her magic came to surface and she was brought to the Circle.

Despite her lack of belief, when she reached Haven's own Chantry she finally felt a sense of calm wash over her when she closed those heavy doors behind her. Sealing herself away from those prying and curious eyes. That sense of calm was quickly disturbed when the sound of Cassandra's voice and that of Chancellor Roderick yelling to each other reached her eyes.

"Maker.. not this again," Gwyn groaned and rubbed her temples hoping to ease away her headache as she approached the door and entered without knocking. She wanted to get this over with, with or without manners.

"Ah! Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!" Roderick growled. The Templars at the doorposts took a step towards Gwyneth, who clenched her fists.

"Disregard that. Leave us," Cassandra snapped. Who surprisingly bowed at her and left. She held more power than Gwyneth had realized.

"You are walking a dangerous line, Seeker," Roderick seethed.

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it, even if I have to overrule the Chantry."

"That's why I am summoned? Because you need my help? Again?" Gwyneth straightened herself and frowned at the Seeker. She had heard of the order, the right-hand of the Divine. They were a strong bunch. "I did everything I could to close the Breach. It nearly killed me."

"Yet you lived. A convenient result, insofar you are concerned," the Chancellor hissed. His eyes were boring themselves deep into her own.

"Have a care Chancellor, The Breach is hardly the only threat we face."

"First, we need to know who was behind the explosion of Conclave. It must be someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died in the explosion, or have allies who yet live. We need to get to the bottom of this," Leliana said and stepped forward from her place in the shadows. She threw and accusing glance at Roderick.

He back away, placing a hand on his chest in disbelief. "I am a suspect? While the very source of this mess is standing right here next to us?"

"I am really tired of you accusing me. How many times do I have to say that I am innocent? Until the Spirits themselves hear me?" Gwyn hollered, her voice raising with every word. "I had family attending at the Conclave! Do you really believe that I wanted them dead?!"

"Trevelyan!"

Cassandra's voice was sharp and cut through her just like that. Gwyneth blinked, her eyes felt moist and her hands were clenched into tight fists. Bright red fire covered them, but it did not hurt. The Chancellor had backed away, his eyes fearful but his jaw tense in defiance. Sighing, Gwyn forced her magic back and the fire disappeared. "You know nothing Chancellor," she hissed between her teeth and with that she turned on her heels and stomped out of the room.

Gwyneth marched to the furthest and darkest corner of the Chantry, blocking out every voice and finally allowed her tears to roll across her skin. She lost a brother and a few cousins in that explosion. How could they speak of it like she was too blame? She would never do that, never. So much carnage was an animal's doing. A demon. But not her.

"Lady Trevelyan?" A soft voice called for her.

Quickly composing herself, Gwyn wiped away the remnants of her tears and stepped from around the column where she had been hiding out of sight. Leliana stood there, alone and her hands folded behind her back. Her gaze was sharp, but softer than Cassandra's, it eased her emotions.

"Are you alright?"

At that Gwyn merely shrugged. "How can one be alright, if she discovered that a part of her family is torn from existence and she is to blame for it? How can one be alright if one moment she is declared a traitor and the next The Herald of Andraste?" She took a shivering breath and shook her head. "This is madness."

"Madness is doing nothing whilst the threat is still there, hovering in the sky."

Cassandra walked towards them, holding a heavy book in her arms. "Madness is letting people die, whilst we can do something about it."

"But how? Glare at it in the hope it disappears?"

Leliana chuckled, a soft sound that lightened the mood just a bit. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Would make the world a lot easier though."

"What we can do, is breathe live in the Inquisition once more and serve it."

"The what?"

Cassandra smiled secretively at her and gestured for them to follow. So Gwyn did, back to the same room. Only to find Roderick missing.

"He stormed off, angry," Leliana briefly explained. It conjured a smirk on Gwyneth's lips.

"This is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act in desperate times. I declared the Inquisition reborn, Roderick wasn't too pleased with that, but we will close The Breach, with or without his help," Cassandra explained and placed the book that she held in her hands on the table, across the map of Orlais.

"Your Mark is still a key component though. It is the only thing able to close rifts and possible The Breach when it's provided with more power. We have no chantry support, no leader and no numbers, but we must act now," Leliana sighed and looked at Gwyn. Her eyes filled with hope.

"Will you stand with us? Help us put an end to this chaos?" Cassandra asked, the same hope shimmering in her own eyes.

Gwyneth looked at the book. A giant eye stared right at her, the flames of the Sunburst Throne surrounding it like a fiery halo. Her vision shifted from the book to her left hand and flexed it. The Mark remained the same, a fine line with green tendrils oozing out of it. She looked up to see Leliana and Cassandra awaiting her answer.

"I will help you. With everything I've got."

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