Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age franchise. This is a product of my own imagination, inspired by Chapter 2 of 'This Ain't No Place Like Home' by 'ecarius' on AO3 (Archive of Our Own). See the link below.
/works/7727716/chapters/17614561
Just to be safe, this is rated M for swearing and depictions of injuries, though both are used sparingly. Spoilers for those who have yet to play Trespasser.
Chapter I: Rocky Rescue
'Rocky Rescue' is right. Now go kill my Red Captors! What? You already killed them? Oh. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Can I reload a previous save? No? Are you sure? Well... At least I can swear and get away with it here. Priorities, people. Priorities.
One of the men locked in the cage with me tried to prize my hands from the bars. He knew I didn't, couldn't, speak, so he turned my head and pointed after the other escapees. I shook my head, no, prized one of my hands free – cold metal, plus raw flesh, equals frostbite burns – and wave him off with a shooing motion before turning back to the Inquisitor. He's staring at me now, like he's seen a nug fly; I was alone in the cage, and there was nothing else in the vicinity, so I couldn't think what brought on that expression. Judging by the greatsword, he's a warrior. Maybe even a former Templar.
I'd though the Maker would have given me some good luck, for a change, though I can't complain, considering my primary hope was that the Inquisition would come and save us. I didn't want to become a Red Templar, or a Red Anything, and I certainly didn't want them mining my corpse for more of that blighted stuff. I had hoped they'd bring Cole; him reading my mind – or whatever he does – wasn't my first choice, but it was better than trying to converse through crude sign language. Failing that, I'd hoped they'd bring Bull. But no, I'm stuck with Varric, Cassandra and Solas. My Qunlat, or my memory of it, at least, is better than my Elven. Elvish. Whatever. Hell, I probably knew more Orlesian or Antivan than I did Elven.
I suppose I should thank the Maker for fulfilling my wish at all. It would have been nice to use Plan A or B, because I didn't think to make a Plan C. Initially, I thought 'Let's free ourselves', but only a scant few of us could fight, no one knew how to pick a lock to save their life, (ha), and it wasn't like there was anywhere safe to go. I did consider following my fellow prisoners, but I couldn't remember where the NPCs from the 'Red Captor' side quest actually go, or what happens to them. It seemed like a one-off kind of quest, the kind that lacked sequels, or even some sort of epilogue. I figured my best chance would be to stick it out until the Inquisitor arrived, and then find some way to convince them that I could help. Besides, being recruited as an agent still sounded pretty cool. Very cool, if I'm to be honest.
They were talking about something or other, and it was Solas who approached first, gesturing to my hands and talking in complete gibberish. He sounded like a minion, or a Sim. I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped, and leaned my head against the bars to try and collect myself. Varric snapped an arm at several surrounding veins of red lyrium after waving a hand at me. The Inquisitor looked guilty, Cassandra oddly sympathetic, Varric very pissed off, and I felt like Solas was trying not to cry.
It's nice to know he cares, so, I said, "Ma serannas."
I don't know whether I butchered the language or not and, frankly, I was too focused on the fact that I'd made Solas jump. Like, literally. His feet left the ground. The Inquisitor seemed to try and console him, Varric was trying not to laugh, and Cassandra was giving me a searching look. I pulled one of my hands free, the one I hadn't yet moved, and Solas swivelled round at my cry, took it in his own and layered it with silky blue stuff. Magic. No pain, no blood, no frostbite. Just a few white scars. I offered me my other hand, and he repeated the process.
It took me a moment, and I must have scrunched up my face in thought because it sounded like someone – I'm not sure who – was trying to reassure me. I waved them off.
"Ma serannas, falon ma… melava… halani." I gave a little bow for good measure, and slammed my head against the bars. Metal hurts. With everyone else gone, I could sit on the cage floor. I don't know what force kept me upright all this time, but my body decided it didn't want to get up any time soon. "Ah… Ir abelas," I groaned.
Solas said something; I knew it was him because I heard the word 'da'len', but that was all I understood. Another wave of magic left me shivering. Was it supposed to feel so all-encompassing, so… intimate? Maybe I just wasn't used to it. Regardless, I wasn't getting anywhere; all I'd done was frighten Solas, and maybe amuse Varric. It was high time I corrected that.
I cleared my throat. They were 'discussing' again, but stopped and looked round. Solas, for some reason, was sitting beside me. When did that happen? I shook my head and pointed to the over-hanging vein of Red Lyrium.
"Corypheus," I said.
The reaction was instantaneous. Varric blanched, the Seeker started demanding things in Sim-speak, the Inquisitor tried to calm her down, and Solas draped a blanket over my shoulders. His pack, which I hadn't seen, was resting at the cage mouth, which he had somehow dragged me over to; I was sitting on the edge, legs dangling like a child. God – Maker – I felt so helpless. I really wished Cole were here.
"Um, Solas…?" I asked. He gave me his undivided attention, probably because no one had introduced themselves. Well, there was nothing I could do about that now, but I could learn where in the timeline they were. "Halamshiral?" His gaze darkened. "Er, Celene? Gaspard? Briala?" He seemed speechless, eyes wide with surprise. "Er, Weisshaupt? Clarel? Hawke? Crestwood?" I was getting rather desperate. I hope he understood that.
Before I could think of what else to ask, Solas seemed to regain himself, called out to his team, and made a 'stay' gesture with both hands. I nodded, pulling the blanket further around me, and he relayed my words to the Inquisitor. At least, I think he did. For an instant, Cassandra looked thunderous, and the next, utterly defeated. Varric was, I think, trying to raise everyone's spirits, and the Inquisitor seemed eager about something. So cute. Almost puppy-like, the sweetheart. He circled around the cage, and came to a stop in front of me.
"Max," he said, simply, pressing both hands against his breastplate.
"Trevelyan," I nodded, giving my left hand a wiggle. He gave me a sad smile, then gestured over to the others. "Varric. Cassandra. Solas."
"Varric Tethras." I mimed opening a book. "Seeker Pentaghast." I outlined an eye. "Solas… Solas." That earned me a chuckle. Better than the death glare I'd have gotten if I said Fen'Harel! Then he opened his arms to me. When I looked on expectantly, he repeated his own introduction. Realising he was asking me to do the same, I made to reply and… nothing came out. I'd forgotten my name. I admit, I brawled like a baby; Max even gave me his shoulder to cry on, and Cassandra made a point of destroying the lyrium vein closest to us. Maybe Varric would give me a new one…
Translations:
Ma serannas = My thanks (or) thank you.
Ma serannas, falon ma... melava… halani = Read as: Thank you, friend (for) your time(ly) help.
Ir abelas = I'm sorry.
Da'len = child.
Halamshiral = The end of the journey (refers to the place, in this instance).
Fen'Harel = Dread Wolf.
