Chapter One: Point of no Return

Lady Rosalie Trevelyan was supposed to go unnoticed. She was a fiction, after all. Sent to Haven by an Orlesian bard-master who needed eyes and ears in the conclave. It was the perfect cover to pose as a minor noble from a pious family in the Free Marches. The plan had been to learn as much as she could for her master and his patron, perhaps even whisper a few rumours here and there to sway things in their favour, but certainly not to cause any kind of a stir.

Becoming the Herald of Andraste was about as far from the plan as it was humanly possible to get.

Keep moving. Don't look back. Almost there, she told herself.

Cold night air whistled through the streets as the woman at the heart of everything trudged through the snow towards Haven's gates. They'd be locked at this hour, but that powder she'd slipped into the guardsmen's hot cider would have taken effect by now. She'd still be able to sneak out unnoticed. Rosalie's hand glowed green as she tightened it into a fist and cracked her knuckles one by one.

I'm going to have to spend a fortune on gloves when I get home, she thought with a sigh, all too aware that the bigger problem was going to be making it that far undetected.

Behind her, she could still hear the faint sounds of celebrations continuing. Music, dancing, Varric telling stories by the fire and the Chargers drinking one another under the table. Perhaps in another life she might have been able to join in. She'd played her part well, after all. The templars had joined the Inquisition, the hole in the sky was mended. It might have been nice to relax and have fun for a while. Too bad it would probably get her killed.

No, it was best for the Herald of Andraste to disappear in the night never to be seen again, and for Rosalie to be long gone before the truth ever caught up with her. Now was the time. The snow would cover her tracks. With any luck, this would be a clean getaway.

Of course, if Rosalie had any luck, she wouldn't be the one with the glowing hand.

She hurried around the corner to reach the front gates, then failed to hold in a gasp as she saw something other than the two sound asleep guards she was expecting.

"You're missing the party, boss." Iron Bull leaned with his back against the locked gate, arms folded across his chest and a look of amusement on his face.

"I was just getting some air," she insisted, a slew of curse words running through her head as she forced herself to maintain a neutral expression.

"Uh huh."

Rosalie smiled sweetly, "Why are you here? Your Chargers haven't finished off the casks yet. I thought you'd be helping them."

"Had this nagging little feeling something wasn't right, so I thought I'd take a walk. Found the two gate guards asleep on one another, so I threw them over my shoulders and carried them to their beds. Figured I'd stand around and hold their post until someone else came to take over," he said as casually as if describing a stroll in a meadow.

You mean you wanted to see who would come to sneak past them. The Game Iron Bull played wasn't quite the same - the rules differed in subtle, often ineffable ways that put Rosalie on edge. It was like being led through a dance to which she didn't know the steps. A talent for dancing could only make up for so much.

In this moment, everything - perhaps even her life - depended on how well she reacted. The expression on her face had to be just so, or she'd give everything away.

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards, and she raised her eyebrows just slightly. Surprise and amusement seemed the right tone to aim for. "So that's where all the strong drinks ended up. I'd heard some of your boys complaining."

Iron Bull smiled, but it wasn't the smile of someone who believed the person in front of him. "What about you, boss?" He pushed away from the wall and stepped closer, presumably so he'd end up towering over her that much more. Her hands ached to reach for her daggers, but she feared he'd just snap her neck like a twig the moment she tried. The panic that thought brought with it left no room for the logical conclusion that killing her would leave the Bull with a much bigger problem than suspecting the Herald of Andraste couldn't be trusted.

"I was…" she paused to swallow, then cringed internally, aware that it gave away that she was nervous.

Tentatively, she reached up to tiptoe her fingers over his bare chest, a little surprised to find his skin warm even in weather cold enough to make her breath mist before her face. "I was looking for you," she told him, voice purposefully low and sultry, with just a hint of shyness thrown in for good measure as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and grazed her bottom lip with her teeth.

He raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't a look of surprise - more just amusement at her attempt to distract him with flirting. "And, uh, why's that exactly?" he asked in a low voice, leaning down just a little.

"Well..." she murmured, rising up on the tips of her toes so that their lips were nearly touching.

A slow smile spread spread across his lips as a hand as big as her face tipped her chin up so that their eyes met.

Rosalie shivered, and not entirely because of the cold. She was frozen like a halla who'd just heard an arrow being nocked. A part of her wondered what would happen if she simply kissed him - she was certainly curious what it would feel like. A smaller part wondered if confessing everything would make him take pity on her and help her get away. For the most part she just wanted to run.

She was saved from having to answer by the sudden ringing of a bell. It was a frantic pealing that cut across the din of the party. The sound made Iron Bull's hand drop away and as he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the Chantry, Rosalie took the chance to step back from him.

"Forces Approaching!" they heard. "To arms!"

"Shit. That's… probably not good," was all Iron Bull had to say in response in that.

Rosalie was inclined to agree.

Before the ringing of the bell, before the forces coming over the hill had even been sighted, Leliana had ordered her scouts to pull back. Only one of them hadn't reported in, but it was a gut feeling she didn't dare ignore. The wait for their return was so excruciating, it was a relief when Fisher had come to her with a rather strange pair of letters stolen from Ostwick.

"Both from Bann Trevelyan, both in his hand, yet saying completely opposite things. This makes no sense," she said once she'd finished reading. "I can't tell if the Herald is their proud scion or completely disowned."

"Maybe he was sitting on both and waiting to see how things panned out before he chose which to send? The Trevelyans are, by all accounts, a pious lot," Fisher pointed out, leaning over the letters that were splayed out across the war table. They'd come inside from Leliana's usual tent to escape the noise of the celebrations. "A smart man might wait to see if the breach closes before letting anyone know where things stand between him and his daughter."

Perhaps, but that didn't seem right either. Another one of those gut feelings. There was something familiar about Rosalie Trevelyan. Something Leliana couldn't trust. "Yet there's no shortage of distant relatives bragging about their connection to the Herald." Or hadn't been, at least, until they had been encouraged to show a little modesty by the Inquisition. "Go. See if there is any sign of the others. I will worry about the Trevelyans."

She watched as Fisher nodded and hurried out the door, then turned back to the table and inhaled sharply as she found Cole standing right beside her.

"Up. Everyone keeps looking at the hole in the sky. Too busy to notice a puppet with severed strings. Struggling, scared, solitary, but at the center of everything. The task is finished. She should be happy but it frightens her more than ever that they will see."

The spymaster's eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped closer to Cole. "See what?"

He suddenly appeared over her shoulder, and it took every effort not to gasp as she turned to face him. "She is raw," he continued. "Exposed. A nerve inside a cracked tooth."

Leliana couldn't tell if he was talking about her or someone else, and she wasn't sure she wanted to ask. "Did you need something?"

"You are... missing some things." Cole vanished only to reappear in a crouched position on the war table. "A twisted ankle. An arrow in the shoulder. Fleeing, frightened, but alive. Arriving. And not alone."

Her brow furrowed. Spirit… demon… Whatever Cole was, she didn't need his riddles on top of everything else. "My scouts have returned?"

Suddenly the ring of the bell outside caught her attention and she looked to the door. When she glanced back to the table Cole had vanished, but there wasn't time to ponder that. There wasn't time to ponder the letters on the table and their contents either. She had to find Cullen.

It never occurred to her that it was the last time she would set foot in that room.

Even for the Iron Bull, the sight of a fucking archdemon arriving hadn't been a welcome one. Sure, it was enormous, terrifying and capable of gulping even him down in one bite if it really tried, but it didn't stir him. Not the way the sight of that dragon in the Hinterlands that Rosalie hadn't let him fight had. It looked - and smelled - just… wrong.

Its arrival changed everything. It took away the hope that most of the friends he'd made at Haven - not to mention his men - would get out alive. By this point if any of them made it, he'd count it as a win - not that he was likely to be around to do any counting considering Rosalie had taken him along on what was likely a suicide mission to use the last trebuchet to buy everyone else time to escape.

Still… going down fighting Vints and an archdemon wasn't a bad end.

Especially this many Vints. He'd lost count of how many waves had charged in at them but by now things were feeling more than a bit overcrowded. There were fighters coming at he and Cassandra from all angles, and far too many mages around for his liking. Still, Solas seemed to be doing a pretty good job of undoing some of their spells and he'd already learned you had to either charge straight through those glowing marks on the ground or just not step on them at all.

Of course knowing that didn't help when some asshole with a big sword pushed you onto one. He roared in pain as the mine erupted with flame and knocked him off his feet, then cringed as the asshole pressed in to follow through with an attack of his own.

Shit, I'm really going to feel this one, Bull thought with an inward groan as he saw the greatsword swinging down towards him. It was quite a surprise when his attacker suddenly dropped his weapon and let out a pained sound that Bull instantly recognized as him gurgling up blood thanks to a pierced lung. The man dropped to his knees, revealing Rosalie standing behind him, removing her daggers from his back. She gave Iron Bull a curt nod, then vanished from sight, only to reappear behind one of their smug Vint mages only seconds later. He grunted, a little grin coming to his face as he stored the memory for... later. Taarsidath-an halsaam.

It was hard to believe the woman fighting at his side was the same one he'd met earlier at the gates. He was certain that woman had been on the verge of disappearing forever and leaving some ugly secret exposed in her wake. This woman was fighting for all of them. This woman was probably going to die to save those who were fleeing. This woman was incredibly good at coming in to flank when the enemy least expected it, he noted, his approval causing a rumble to sound in his chest.

That last mage was a real handful, managing to knock everyone on their asses at least once, and he had to growl in frustration every time the woman suddenly vanished to reappear further away from him. Eventually though she got herself frozen by Solas and then slammed by Cassandra's shield and that was that. Not a healthy combination of moves for anyone.

The last of them out of the way - for the moment, at least - he held out a hand for Rosalie and easily hauled her back up onto her feet. She only took a brief moment to breathe and wipe the sweat from her brow before she rushed to the trebuchet to continue re-aiming it. They'd only get one shot at burying Haven, most likely. This had to be done right or the Inquisition would fall then and there. It had to be perfect.

"You know, you could let me turn that thing," Bull pointed out as Rosalie grunted, sweat dripping down her brow as she turned the wheel of the mechanism.

"He's just as likely to break the wheel and ruin our chances," Cassandra protested.

Solas raised an eyebrow and asked, "You'd rather the one-eyed man with superior strength kept watch?"

With a small sigh, Rosalie stood aside to let him turn the wheel. "When it's in place, you three run to the Chantry. I'll fire the trebuchet when you're clear," she ordered. "I'll follow if I can."

None of them bothered to argue. They'd known survival was a slim chance the moment they'd stepped out of the Chantry. If any of them could make it, it was the one woman who'd survived the explosion that had started this all.

The effort of turning the wheel made the sweat drip down Bull's body, washing off some of the dried-on blood stains with it as it did. He wasn't even aware of that. His eyes were fixed on the trebuchet, watching as it edged closer to the exact angle they needed.

He grunted out a little, "Yes!" as it clicked into place, allowing himself a little sigh of relief. Maybe this plan of Cullen's was just crazy enough to work. If they survived this, he'd have to buy the man a drink later.

He was aware of seeing Rosalie's expression change in the corner of his eye, but he didn't have time to follow her gaze, before she barked, "Move! Now!" and threw herself to the ground to dodge out of the way of a torrent of flame igniting the ground where she'd stood just seconds before.

Bull immediately followed after Solas and Cassandra as they started to run. They had a clear path back the way they'd come as far as he could tell, but it wouldn't stay that way for long.

It wasn't until they were almost to the doors of the Chantry that he paused to glance back to where the trebuchet stood.

He'd hoped to see Rosalie on the verge of firing the damn trebuchet. His heart sank at the sight of… whatever that demon… darkspawn… thing was, holding her up off the ground by her wrist like a rag doll. She'd fought like a hero that night - she didn't deserve to be left behind with that monster.

Cassandra paused to look back at the sight as well, letting out a brief sigh before she nudged Bull with her shield and told him to keep moving. And she was right. An order was an order, after all. Even if their plan had failed, they'd bought the others some time at least.

With a sigh, Iron Bull forged ahead, checking back frequently to make sure Solas was keeping up. He wasn't so worried about Cassandra - he couldn't imagine there was much she couldn't shield bash out of her way if she needed to.

It wasn't until the three of them found their way to the path behind the Chantry that they heard a sound they almost didn't dare believe. The crashing of a boulder into the mountainside, followed by a rumble as the ground itself began to shake.

Iron Bull paused and looked back, seeing those mountains that had always formed the backdrop of their view from Haven suddenly seem to crumble as a tide of snow swept towards what was left of the village.

"It appears our Herald has achieved the impossible again," Solas mused in a breathy voice.

"Go!" Cassandra bellowed, breaking into a sprint. The other two were right behind her, running as fast as they could to avoid being buried along with Haven.

Hold onto that luck, Bull thought, dimly aware of the archdemon letting out a roar as it launched into the sky somewhere behind them. Because I owe you a big fucking drink after tonight.