Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Dragon Age.
A/N: First off, this contains Trespasser spoilers, along with a reunion between Solas and Lavellan for those of you still crying over Solavellan (you're not alone!) Secondly, this is my first posted fanfic and the longest story I've ever written. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for any time you spend reading this. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Dragon Age. Follows, favorites, and reviews are appreciated! Have fun!
Part I
1
Rebirth
A girl awoke with an arrow protruding from her chest––where her heart should be. She sat up and ripped out the arrow, hardly feeling any pain. A survey of her surroundings did little to ease her curiosity. Dead elves surrounded her. Nearby tents blazed with fire. Halla carcasses littered the grove. The scent penetrated her senses to a point at which she gagged. She pushed herself to her feet and studied the scene. The arrow feathers were red, and the tips glowed with a strange red light. She grabbed the arrow previously shot into her chest and laid it in a satchel from a small supply cache. Swinging the satchel over her shoulders, she looked back at the deceased elves scattered about the clearing. She did not recognize them. She did not know where she was. And most of all, she did not know who she was.
She studied a necklace that hung around her neck made from ironbark. In it were carved elven runes she somehow knew to read "Alyne." As that was her best guess as to who she was, she decided she was Alyne, whoever that may be.
Birds chirped in an almost harmonious symphony in the tree branches above her. It seemed dishonorable for them to sound so beautiful when there was so much death below them. Alyne exhaled and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could do the same with her mind. She took several slow, deep breaths before beginning her journey into the forest.
2
Suspicion
"Hey, there! State your business!"
Alyne whipped around. An armored man approached her on a Ferelden Forder. On his breastplate was forged a Grey Warden griffin. How had she not heard him approach? Maybe she had been lost in thought with her curiosities.
"Stay away from me!" she commanded before turning away and breaking into a run. His mount caught up easily and stamped in front of her.
"Never run from a Grey Warden," he growled, leaning down. She took note of his artfully curled mustache. "What is an elf doing in these parts, alone?"
"I'm an elf?" she asked, more to herself than to the man. She reached a hand up to feel the ends of her ears. It made sense. There were elves surrounding her before. She had to have been one of them.
"Are you all right?" He straightened himself in his saddle, looking a bit unnerved. It seemed he had noticed the copious amount of dried blood on the left side of her chest.
Ignoring his question, she asked, "Where are we?"
"We are in the Exalted Plains, home of the plains of nothingness. That and forts in which everyone was killed. Shouldn't you know that, elf?"
"Can you take me to your encampment?"
"I do not have a nearby encampment, and even if I did, I do not trust you. Elves are dangerous these days. No one knows who to trust. Any elf could be working for Solas."
"Solas?"
"Have you not lived a day, knife-ears? Solas, a former companion to the Inquisitor, is the subject of a worldwide search. The Inquisitor informed the Grey Wardens, and we are now patrolling the Exalted Plains in the case he makes an appearance."
"If I do not even know this 'Solas,' how could I be working for him?" she asked.
"Humans lie. Qunari lie. Dwarves lie. I expect elves do the same, no?"
"Even if you don't trust me, I could follow you and your horse. You will have to rest at some point, while I have been traveling for days without food, water, or sleep."
The Grey Warden made his mount back away. "How is that possible?" he asked with wide eyes. Once again, he eyed the blood stain on her shirt and now began to force his horse to back away faster. "What are you?"
"I don't know." She stepped forward, not at all threatening.
The Grey Warden then dismounted and unsheathed his sword. "I have been tasked with stopping the blight and those infected with it. I will make this a quick death if you allow me to do so."
"Try." She held out her hands welcomingly.
He was cautious for another moment before walking toward her. He raised the sword above her head. He brought it down as if to slice her in two, but with remarkable speed, Alyne leaped out of the way and ran to the Grey Warden's horse where she mounted and left without a second thought. The Warden stared after her in awe and watched his horse gallop away through the forest.
3
Assault
Hours later, Alyne arrived at a small camp. A banner with a sword running through an eye blew in the wind within the camp. Soldiers wearing the same symbol tended to the fire and filled requisitions. Alyne stopped at the tree line, unsure of the thought that these people would fill her curiosity and help her understand what was going on. She didn't have a chance to decide.
"A spy! Get her!" a guard shouted.
Nearly everyone in the small camp rushed to her at once. She tugged at the reins, but the horse's reflexes were not as fast as hers. Too many trees were behind her to escape at full speed. Though Alyne might survive a hail of arrows in the back, her horse could not, and she needed that horse. Alyne dismounted with phenomenal speed and unexpectedly rushed at the guards. They let down their defenses for a moment in their surprise. That was all she needed. She elbowed the closest guard in the nose and felt the other woman's bones break beneath her own elbow. The guard released a cry of pain and ineffectually tried to stop the bleeding with her hands, causing her to drop her sword. Alyne took the sword and blocked a blow from another guard. The third guard took a swing at her with an identical sword to Alyne's. This made her shield drop enough for Alyne to bury her own sword into the guard's bowels. The guard instantly dropped, clutching her profusely bleeding abdomen. The second guard went for a jab. Alyne leaped out of the way and kicked at her knee from the side. It cracked, and she collapsed immediately. The first guard was beginning to ignore her bleeding nose and swung in a wide, clumsy arc that Alyne easily dodged. Alyne then slammed the hilt of her sword into the helmet of the guard. She went unconscious promptly. Alyne took a moment to catch her breath and did not notice that the camp's potion master had sneaked up behind her. She heard the sound of shattering glass, then breathed in and sniffed the second most disgusting smell since the burning halla and elf bodies. Her eyes closed, and she slept for the first time since she pulled the arrow from her heart.
4
Transport
Alyne awoke to binding ropes tying her arms and legs to a cart. She could only see the edges of the cart and a strange sort of hole in the sky. She tugged at the ropes, but it was useless. They were tied well. The cart was moving at a rhythm that suggested a few horses were pulling it.
"Ah, you're awake," an old woman's voice came from the front of the cart.
Another voice spoke from the front of the cart. "Don't talk to the prisoner."
"Don't worry," the first voice said to the second. "What is your name, child?" She spoke more loudly.
"I'm not a child," Alyne told her. She felt defenseless. She hated it.
"Ah," the old woman said gently, "but you are not an adult either. You look to be about fourteen years of age, are you not?"
"I-I don't know."
"Did you also not know you are only half elf? Your ears are not sharp enough to be a full Dalish despite your clothing, though normally that is quite impossible, as offspring of humans and elves are human."
"I did not know that either." Alyne spoke more quietly. She was unsure of everything.
"We are traveling to––"
"Don't tell her where we're going!" a third voice commanded.
The old woman responded, "I believe she deserves to know where we are going. Think of how afraid she must be."
"She's an elf! She could be working for Solas!" the third voice pointed out.
"Is that your best argument? You three attacked her without first questioning if she was going to attack us and because of her race," the old woman pointed out. "This is prejudice."
"She broke my knee!" A fourth voice complained.
"Then you should train harder if you were beaten by a fourteen year-old girl," the old woman retorted. "Well, young elf, we are on our way to Skyhold. I believe the Inquisitor would like to speak with you."
5
Stationary
Varric Tethras, viscount of Hightown, shot an arrow from his precious crossbow which buried itself in a Merchant Guild member's chest. The man's serrated daggers previously wielded against Varric clattered to the ground. After removing himself from his throne, Varric walked to the dying man and removed a letter half-concealed in the man's jacket.
This "servant" has been intercepting my letters. Great. I knew the Merchant's Guild would get to me eventually.
He tore open the letter addressed to himself and read it.
Varric,
You have not been answering my letters. Maybe you are ignoring them along with those from the Merchant's Guild. Or maybe this is all a stunt of yours. Please tell me you are all right. I need you to come to Skyhold for a time. The work has significantly weighed down on me, and I need someone to help me transition the Inquisition into another's hands. I will be taking a bit of a break, and I know of no one but you to help me with this; everyone else is also too busy. This will be the last letter I send you before I dispatch a messenger to check on you personally.
L.L.
"Why does she have to worry about me so much?" he muttered. He folded up the letter and stuffed it in a pocket of his coat. Thrusting open the doors, he left the Viscount's Keep.
"Where are you going?" an advisor demanded behind him before he walked out the final doors.
"Skyhold," he answered while continuing his egress.
"Skyhold? But you're viscount! You can't leave!"
"You're in charge until I get back." Varric waved his hand dismissively.
"But––"
Varric slammed the doors behind himself before the advisor could continue.
6
Prejudice
Alyne remained silent for the remainder of the journey. They arrived at Skyhold nearly a day later. The guards removed Alyne from the cart at the entry gate and fought against their holds on her all the way to the dungeon. The guard she had bitten along the way threw her into the cell especially hard. "Have a nice visit, knife-ears," the man snorted.
Alyne was supplied with enough food and water for a normal person to eat, but she wasn't normal. She didn't feel hungry or thirsty, so she left the food and water where it was delivered. The guard who retrieved the uneaten food and water scoffed every time she saw it untouched and began to wonder if Alyne was purposefully starving herself.
After a few days the daily food and water stopped coming to her. A few days after that the guard unlocked her cell and informed her the Inquisitor wished to see her.
Alyne's hair––which was so blond it was nearly white––fell in front of her face as she was practically dragged to the great hall. There was no point in fighting or making it easier on the guard by walking.
The great hall was immense. Dalish decorations were scattered throughout the room, and banners with the same symbol from the camp in the Exalted Plains hung from the walls. A woman sat on a dragon maw throne at the far end of the hall. The woman's hair was blond and her skin fair, despite many adventures outdoors. Long, pointed ears protruded from her hair pulled back into a bun.
Many people were gathered before the throne and watched Alyne being dragged in. The gaze of the woman on the throne was so intense, Alyne stood up and walked the rest of the way, with the guard's hands continuing to guide her and prevent her from escape. An advisor stood beside the throne with a metal tablet and paper in hand with a candle to illuminate the charges. The woman on the throne studied Alyne with great curiosity.
"Inquisitor, this is, well, we do not know her name, but we do know her crimes," the advisor spoke with a foreign accent. "She attacked a camp in the Exalted Plains, leaving the three guards posted there injured." She paused, then took a deep breath. "She is believed to be working with Solas."
"Is there any proof of her collusion?" the Inquisitor asked, leaning forward.
"Well, no," the advisor replied, "but the guards thought so."
The Inquisitor inquired, "Did she make any attempt to attack the guards before they attacked her?"
"No, but––"
"So, she was attacked simply for being an elf?"
"Well, yes––"
"Then she has been attacked, dragged from her homeland, imprisoned, and put on trial simply for being an elf?" The Inquisitor stood up and spoke to the crowd. Her cheeks rapidly flushed red with fury. "This is not what the Inquisition is about. Yes, I ordered people to search for Solas, but that does not mean we should try to kill every elf out there! We want equality for all races!" The Inquisitor sat back down and spoke to Alyne. "I'm sorry for what has happened to you. Please forgive the Inquisition and allow us to return you to your fellow Dalish."
"They are all dead," Alyne uttered, but the sound carried through the chamber. A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
"What?" The Inquisitor asked apprehensively. "What did you say?" She leaned forward as if to hear Alyne deliver better news, to contradict the awful words that had just been spoken.
"The first thing I remember," Alyne continued quietly, "is death. An arrow was in my heart. The feathers were red, and the tip glowed red––"
"Red?" The Inquisitor stood up, ran to Alyne, and grabbed her shoulders. "You said the tip glowed red?" The Inquisitor's blue irises were flecked with pulsating, glowing red veins, horrendously reminding Alyne of the arrow.
"Yes," Alyne answered nervously. She made the attempt to lean as far away from the fellow elf as possible.
"Did it look like lyrium?"
"I don't know what lyrium looks like."
"Your Worship, if I may?" A guard from the camp spoke from a corner of the room, breaking the silence that had seized the crowd. She stepped forward, a horribly bruised nose now clearly visible in the torchlight.
"Go on," the Inquisitor spoke.
"This elf was carrying a satchel. It is locked up now, but in it was what I now believe she is speaking of. She is telling the truth about the arrow at least."
"Thank you." The Inquisitor turned back to Alyne. "You said you awoke with the arrow in your heart. How are you alive?"
"I don't know." Alyne let her head hang.
"Don't be ashamed that you survived."
"Yes, ser," Alyne answered.
"Please continue," the Inquisitor told her.
"Dead Dalish and halla surrounded me. I don't remember anything."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Even your name?"
"Even my name."
"I'm sorry."
"You already said that."
"I have, haven't I? Varric?" The Inquisitor turned to a dwarf by the fireplace. The eyes of everyone in the room shifted to him.
"Huh?" It took a moment for him to realize the Inquisitor was asking him to do something. "Yes?"
The Inquisitor smiled. "Can you please take this girl to meet our friends?"
He shrugged acceptingly without hesitation. "Sure thing, Inquisitor."
Alyne nervously glanced between the two.
"You'll be all right," the Inquisitor told her comfortingly. Alyne slowly walked toward Varric and tried to keep herself from looking back to the Inquisitor's red-flecked eyes.
"C'mon. I'll introduce you to some folks here. I promise you it'll be better than a jail cell."
7
Familiarity
They walked down the stairs and went into the tavern where a qunari was singing a bar song with some other patrons. When he was finished, he shouted, "To the Inquisition and the hot women who run it!"
"Here, here!" The patrons shouted. The bartender shook his head in exasperation but continued to clean tankards. Alyne stopped in the doorframe to watch an elf in the back corner of the bar. Her facial tattoos showed that she was Dalish. Maybe she would know something about Alyne's past. Alyne began walking toward her until the qunari shouted at her.
"Hey! It's that new Dalish elf! Come here!"
Believing she could handle herself, Varric had already ordered a drink and settled himself at a corner table. Alyne begrudgingly walked toward the qunari. "I'm Iron Bull. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand as if to let her shake it but went back to his beverage before she got the chance. "So, a rumor in the bar is that you died, and somehow you're alive. Eh. I've seen weirder things while workin' for the boss."
"You have?" she asked with curiosity lighting up her eyes.
"Yeah. I've seen the boss tame a dragon and close a giant, green glowing hole in the sky leading to the Fade." He took a sip of his overpowering beverage, and his eyes widened. "Whew! I will never, never stop lovin' that stuff!" He slammed his tankard down. "Another round!" The bartender poured him another tankard.
"Do you know who that elf is over there?"
"Dalish?"
"Well, it looks like she's Dalish––"
He released a thunderous laugh. "No, no. That's her nickname. She's part of the Chargers, my group. She is Dalish, though." He paused. "Wait, do you know her?"
Alyne once again looked at Dalish's vallislin tattoos that were so like her own. "I don't know, but I hope she knows me." Alyne stood and walked to Dalish with Iron Bull watching her leave. Dalish looked up from a book and suddenly closed it. The cover read Hard in Hightown. Her eyes widened in astonishment. "What are you doing here, da'len? Why aren't you with the clan? Surely your mother would not let you join the Inquisition."
Alyne's throat caught. She uttered, "The clan . . . they are all dead." She remembered the smell of the burning bodies. How horrible it was. The empty gazes on their faces. Tears came to Alyne's eyes.
"What?" Dalish stood. "How?"
"I don't know." She looked at her feet while flashes of Dalish's pained face shot through her mind. "But I should have died with them."
"Ir abelas, but you should not have died. Now you and I are all that remains of our clan. We must live for them. Tell me, how did they die?"
"I don't know, but I can't live for them when I don't know who they are. Or who I am."
"What do you mean, da'len?"
"I had an arrow in my heart. I lived, somehow, but I awoke with no recollection of my life."
"You don't even remember your name?"
"No."
"Then I will tell you. You are Briala. Your mother was Alyne Sabrae, the Hero of Ferelden." A proud yet forlorn smile came to Dalish's face.
"My mother was the Hero of Ferelden?"
"I swear it. Your mother was a good woman. Thedas thought they knew her. But they never understood her. After she saved the world by stopping the fifth Blight, Alyne––your mother––found a Dalish camp. It was not the one she grew up in, but it was home enough. She gave birth to an illegitimate half-elf she named 'Briala.' Your mother was in love with King Alistair. Well, that was before he became king. Turns out, they all thought they were going to die in the final battle against the archdemon anyway, so they just went to town." She chuckled, and the change in mood startled Alyne. "I'm surprised the Inquisitor didn't do the same with Solas before she lost her hand and her powers."
"Wait. The Inquisitor and Solas?"
Dalish chuckled. "Believe it or not. Solavellan, as some have coined it. He removed her vallislin and called her 'ma vhenan,' meaning 'my heart.' Those two probably would have eloped if Solas hadn't turned out to be Fen'Harel and wanted to destroy the world. Rumor has it he almost gave up his plans a thousand years in the making for her."
"It's frightening how quickly people change," Alyne remarked.
"Yes. It is," Dalish responded quietly.
Alyne suddenly gasped. "And you didn't tell Iron Bull that you knew the Hero of Ferelden?" she asked loudly out of surprise.
"Shh!" She glanced over her shoulder at Iron Bull who downed another tankard's contents. "He will terrorize me with questions till the day I die if he knows," she whispered. "So, aren't you going to ask me more questions?" She narrowed her eyes in question.
"No." Alyne looked down. "Briala died. My mother's dead. I probably never knew my father. Everyone I once knew is dead, except, apparently, you. I suppose it's good I don't remember anything."
"Listen to me." Dalish gently pulled Alyne's chin up. "Your life was not so bad. Though the Keeper disliked you and your mother, others in the clan enjoyed your company." Dalish smirked. "I heard you bested three Inquisition guards. You must still remember your training, or, at least, your muscles do."
"Training?"
"Did you think the Hero of Ferelden would fail to train her only child fighting techniques? Come on, da'len!" She slapped Alyne's back, then began to tell stories of her mother's adventures.
. . .
Varric sat next to Iron Bull and watched the elves' conversation.
"They act like sisters," Varric commented.
"I have never seen Dalish talk this much," Iron Bull said. "You know, one time I almost got Dalish to––"
Varric's eyes shot open. "Shut up, Iron Bull. I'm trying to listen."
"Ah! You dwarf! I'll––"
Varric held his hand up as if commanding him in stealth on the eve of battle. Iron Bull instantly quieted to eavesdrop on the conversation in the loud bar.
"What are they saying?" Iron Bull whispered.
"The girl's mother is––Wait, I couldn't have heard that right. And her father is––? Crap."
"What?"
"Her mother is the Hero of Ferelden and her father is probably King Alistair. Sh––"
"Whoa! And Dalish knew these people? Why didn't she tell me? I coulda been famous!" Iron Bull slammed his fist on the table and took another swig.
"This is serious! The queen is past her thirty years––unable to have children. That means that kid is in line for the throne."
"Take a drink, dwarf. They are not your problems."
"I wish," he scoffed, "but they became my problems the moment the Inquisitor told me to take care of her."
"But why would she pick you?" Iron Bull mused.
"Hey, I can be good with children!"
"No. No, you can't. You'll be good with children the day nugs fly."
"And why's that?"
"You are the kind of person who helps save the world, not one who raises kids. You'd end up giving them weapons training instead of playtime."
"They should be taught at a young age!"
"I think the only reason the boss picked you is because of this: you are the boss's friend, and she trusts you to act like her but be, uh, more fun."
"Are you sure that's it?"
"You haven't even touched your drink to your lips! Drink to the revelations of tonight, my friend!"
Varric gave him a slight smile and lifted the drink to his lips. He turned his gaze to Alyne, then lowered the tankard. "You know, I shouldn't tonight. Have fun." Varric left the bar and waited outside until Alyne was done speaking with Dalish. It was another hour of waiting, but compared to what the kid had gone through, it was nothing.
Alyne stepped out of the bar and seemed to notice Varric leaning against the wall without even seeing him. "Where to next?" she asked gruffly as she walked past him. He jogged to follow her as she stomped away.
"It's late. You should get some rest."
"I don't sleep."
"Want do you mean you don't sleep?"
"I haven't slept since I died."
"How long ago was that?"
"About a week ago."
Varric was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, people keep saying that when it wasn't their fault."
"Is that a bad thing, people saying they're sorry?"
"It is when it makes them think it changes things. It doesn't. Never does."
"I'm going to my quarters. If you don't want to sleep, you can head to the gardens. Or, I don't know, explore the place."
Alyne stopped but did not turn around. "Thanks, Varric. For caring."
"No problem, kid."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
8
Singing
"What was in that arrow, Lana?" Varric asked her. Lanahris Lavellan set her remaining hand above her head. She had lost the other to the Anchor, the glowing green mark that helped her close Fade rifts but was slowing killing her before her hand was removed.
"It was red lyrium, Varric."
"No. No. Are you sure? No doubts?"
"I saw the arrow with my own eyes. It was red lyrium. And it was the singing kind."
"Crap. Corypheus is dead. Who else would want it?"
"Just because he's dead doesn't mean his followers disappeared from existence. They're still out there. They want revenge." She mused, "But why would they go after the Dalish?"
Varric didn't answer for a moment. What if Alyne didn't want the Inquisitor to know who she was related to? Well, unfortunately this wasn't a matter that could be delayed for one person's wishes. This may be a breach of trust, but it was better than the Inquisitor not knowing. "I heard a rumor about who Alyne's parents are."
"Who are they?" The Inquisitor immediately turned around, and her hand grabbed Varric's shoulders. A crazed look resided in her eyes, reminding him of his red lyrium-infected brother. He pushed the her away, his own eyes widening.
"You're working too hard. How much time have you spent with that arrow?"
She turned away and held a hand to her head. "Too much. It sings to me all the time now. I'm trying to fight it, but it's not getting any easier. It's pure red lyrium, Varric. Some of the purest I've ever seen. This . . . infection of lyrium across Thedas, it's getting worse. Soon it'll affect mages everywhere."
"I thought you were going to take a break. Isn't that why you wanted me to come to Skyhold?"
"That was simply an excuse to get you here," she responded quickly. Too quickly. "The arrow––"
"Where is the arrow?"
"In my desk. Just take it. D-destroy it. Just get it away from me before I go mad." Varric stepped lightly toward her desk, eying her all the while. "Top middle drawer." He opened it to find a swaddle of old cloth encasing the glowing arrow. The red tip seemed to pulse with a strange, almost inviting light. Only his hatred of red lyrium gave him the strength to wrap it back up. The Inquisitor moved to reach for it but stopped herself. "It is for the best," she whispered more to herself than him.
"Go rest. You've been through too much too fast."
"What?" She sighed heartily and threw her one and a half arms in the air. "I only lost my clan, my arm, my faith in the elven gods. Now I'm leading a hunt to find the love of my life who is trying to destroy the world. Not only did Solas deceive me, but he made me fall in love with the most evil god in the elven pantheon, Fen'Harel, the trickster. I worry every moment of every day that we will find him, but at the same time I can't wait for news of his location. I am afraid. What if we do find him? What then? I believe I am the only one in the Inquisition who wants to find him and bring him in alive. I wish to redeem him. What if I am forced to choose between the love of my life who abandoned and lied to me and a world that hates my kind? Varric . . ." Her breath shook. She leaned against her bed with one arm. "I don't think I can do this anymore."
"You can," he said, taking quick steps toward her after setting the arrow, still encased, on the desk. Her back shook with sobs she desperately tried to suppress. After leading an army for years that could impact the fate of the world and broken by her many personal losses, she had adopted the habit of concealing her true emotions to look strong for her followers. And even if she wanted to go home to her clan, there was no future in her mind in which she could live a peaceful life among those who had not seen the horrors of the world she had.
Varric spoke for her. "Hawke went through the same thing. She lost her brother and her home in the same day. Her father died too. She held her dying mother who had been the victim of a sort of serial killer in her arms. Some of her friends betrayed her. Then they left her, including me. I'm sure the Hero of Ferelden went through it too. The thing about being a hero is, in order to become stronger, you have to break first."
Lanahris sniffled and allowed herself a slight smile. "Thank you, Varric."
"We'll see. After I destroy this arrow, promise me you'll take it easy. The Inquisition needs to learn to stand by itself. You can't be here forever."
"I'll rest easy when we stop the people responsible for killing the Dalish clan."
"'We'? You only have one arm! You can't swing a stave like you used to." He paused. "This is personal, isn't it?"
"Yes." She sighed and moved to sit down. "That girl, so young, forced into something she is not yet ready for. She reminds me of myself, only my clan wasn't killed before my eyes, and my memories were not erased. I was thrust into saving the world only because I was in the wrong place at the right time when the Temple of Sacred Ashes was destroyed. She doesn't deserve to be shoved into all this chaos. If I had gone after Corypheus's followers instead of celebrating after I killed him, she might be––"
"You can't save everyone in the world. I hate red lyrium, but I don't spend every breath searching for it because I'd die without getting enough done. Rest is essential. I can see you need it."
"But I'm needed here!"
"You can't do much if you go mad from a lyrium addition. Go rest. There are new people dedicated to the Inquisition. And old people. Unfortunately, I guess I fall under the latter category."
"If you're still helping, why can't I?"
"People won't look up to you if you're dead and under their feet." A moment of silence followed. Varric turned around and looked out over the balcony at the snowy mountain peaks surrounding Skyhold. He watched the golden light of the sunset slide down the crests. "Do you ever regret going to the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the first place? If you hadn't, you'd still have your arm, your freedom, heck, probably your virginity."
"Ugh! I still have it!"
"That's pathetic."
"Varric!" She turned around in her chair to watch him. She smiled in spite of herself. "Anyway, I don't regret going to the temple. Most of the time. What does my freedom mean if the world had ended? And if I had never gone there, I never would have met Sol––." She stopped and bit her lip. "Maybe it would have been better. If I hadn't gone." Her gaze returned to the arrow wrapped in cloth on the table.
He turned around. "Don't think I haven't noticed you eying the arrow." He lowered his eyebrows.
"Sorry, the lyrium is still singing." She pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead. "Just tell me, who are Alyne's parents, and what are their names?"
"Alyne Sabrae and Alistair Theirin."
She shook her head believing it was a joke. "Two Grey Wardens being able to procreate a child is unheard of. There is a reason Queen Anora and King Alistair have not had a child yet."
"The Hero of Ferelden and the King of Ferelden are Alyne's parents, apparently. That explains the ears. Sort of."
The Inquisitor questioned, "Is the Hero of Ferelden dead?"
"If she was at the Dalish camp––probably."
"Is Alyne a possible heir?" She stood and began pacing.
Varric shrugged. "I don't know. In today's world I doubt a half-elf would be popular as a queen. Maybe the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair would be the most popular heir. Who knows? And how does she have elven ears if her father is a human? Wouldn't a child from parents like that look like a human? Half-elves just don't exist."
"I don't know. Maybe whatever Solas is doing to restore the old elven ways is changing things."
"But she was, er, created before Solas tried to use the first orb."
"I don't know. This doesn't make any sense. None of it does. The red lyrium. Solas being an Old God in disguise this entire time. Alyne being a half-elf." She asked, "Do you think we should inform the public?"
"Don't ask me."
"I really hate politics," she sighed.
"I'm glad I'm not you."
"Yeah," she chuckled, "me too."
9
Support
"Stop throwing rocks. It's time to train." Varric stood beside Alyne who sat by a small pond in the garden. Another pebble plopped into the water, sending ripples through the surface.
"I beat three Inquisition soldiers without bringing my own weapon into the fight and you want to train me?" She threw another pebble.
"As I understand it, you were defeated by a frail old woman who sneaked up behind you. If she had been an enemy with a knife, you'd be dead."
"No. I lived through a red lyrium arrow sticking out of my heart. A knife to the back probably wouldn't kill me."
"True," he shrugged, "but it's good to practice."
"Why?" Alyne now fingered the necklace around her throat.
"Because, well . . . you have nothing better to do, and I'm in charge of you."
"Fine." She continued to sit and fiddle with her necklace.
Varric didn't need to kneel to see the whiteish ironbark necklace. "What do the runes say?"
She was quiet for a moment. "My mother's name. Dalish told me. It's a sort of tag that would have helped people know who my mother was if she died in battle and was unrecognizable. You see, she would fight against dragons, and they aren't famed for being gentle with their victims."
"Is that where you got the name 'Alyne'?"
"Yes. What would you have done? Called yourself 'Dead Halla' or 'Fire'? I knew nothing of my past. I was a dead girl walking. I suppose I still am."
"I'm sorry." He paused. "Ugh. I keep forgetting you don't like that."
"It's all right. So, you still want to train?"
"Sure."
"What do you wish to train with?"
"You're asking me?"
"Well," she shrugged, "Dalish told me my mother trained me with daggers and swords and had a mage in the clan teach me magic."
Varric's eyes widened. "You mean you were trained to be a warrior, rogue, and a mage? Is that even possible?"
"Well, apparently being in a secluded forest and training with a mother who happens to be the Hero of Ferelden for about eleven years helped me accomplish her dreams. But Dalish said I can only do a couple of spells." She threw another rock in. "You heard, didn't you? That my mother was the Hero of Ferelden?"
"You were talking too loud in the bar."
The two of them watched the ripples extending across the surface of the pond.
"It hurts more every day," Alyne commented, setting her left hand over her chest.
Varric turned to her with a concerned gaze. "What does?"
"My wound. I think a piece of the red lyrium arrow tip broke off in my heart, and it's growing. The red lyrium spreads more every day."
"Will it kill you?" Varric's voice grew nervous.
"Might as well. I feel more . . . separated every day."
"You're depressing, kid. You know that?"
"I won't be depressing when I've turned into a giant lyrium crystal."
"Hey, you are at Skyhold, and the Inquisition has your back. We have resources. I'm sure someone here can help you."
"Who's going to want to help a half-elf?"
"Kid, I'm a surface dwarf, and the Inquisitor, probably the busiest woman in Thedas, helped me with my problems."
"But you're her friend."
"Well, yes, but––"
"It's okay," she said quietly. "The Inquisition has enough to do."
"Well," Varric paused while thinking it over, "I could look into it. I don't go on missions and expeditions like I used to, so I have plenty of time." He thought to himself, Even though I should be in Hightown right now, ruling the city.
She whispered, "Thank you."
"No problem, kid," he replied softly.
10
Assistance
"What do you mean, 'We can't investigate it'?"
"We don't have the resources. Everyone is devoted to finding and stopping Solas. The end of the world is more important than saving one girl." Josephine, the chief advisor of the Inquisition, continued to sign documents confirming weapon shipments to Orlais to aid in the hunt for Solas.
"That 'one girl' is in her current situation because of us." Varric set his hands down on her desk and leaned forward. "This situation might have killed the Hero of Ferelden. The Inquisitor almost drove herself to insanity trying to find a way to help the kid."
She looked up slightly. "Solas is also a problem created by the Inquisition. If you want to help the girl, you'll have to find a way to do it yourself. Maybe you can ask Dagna to research it if she's not too busy."
"You can't find some way to help? Surely we have some resources––"
Josephine sighed, set down her quill, and steepled the tips of her fingers. "Varric, you must understand that I am stretched very thin with the Inquisitor barely functioning. I don't have time. I apologize." Her foreign accent made her tongue click but her words glide.
"Yeah," Varric said, standing up. "I'm beginning to realize people use those words as an excuse." He stormed out and met Alyne standing in the great hall.
"So, what did she say?"
This was the most hope Varric had seen in her. Her large eyes shone in the torchlight. Varric found breaking the truth to her to be the hardest task he'd ever done until then. "We're-we're on our own." Her eyes closed.
"I need some time." She left the great hall with Varric regretting the news.
