AN: So...I broke my new years resolution... two days in to the year and I'm already at my desk writing an Inquisition fic! And now I can't stop! So I thought I'd share it with you to somehow...elevate my guilt by making others... happy? Suuurre...Winter...nice try. Anyway...Hope you enjoy my fic, obviously Bioware owns all, especially my soul. Don't forget to let me know what you think!
Name One Hero Who Was Happy,
Part I: THE WITCH
"What he didn't like about heroes was that they were usually suicidally gloomy when sober and homicidally insane when drunk."
(Terry Prachett, Colour of Magic)
Everything had changed at Wintersend. As hearths had blazed to ward off the old year's cold, as children sang to keep away the longest night, as men and women drank and cheered and saluted the end of winter's reign, she'd been on her knees, wretched and sobbing. Intricate webs of deceit had finally entangled the weaver. The game was lost and her bruised heart smashed on the cold, chequered floor of her entrance hall.
It had been a day much like this day and the days that followed. And as winter's fingers extended over the now barren land and light gave way to longer nights, that day pressed close in her thoughts.
When the great fall...they fall far. Six summers had fled before her wandering feet but still when the snowflakes danced and dead branches grew heavy with frost she could not help but dwell on all she'd left.
Where once there had been laughter, banquets, wine, where once she had celebration and arguments and sweet talks into the night, where once she'd had peace...now she had ghosts..memories...vague wanderings in a cold camp.
At first they sent men after her. Could trace her, after all, with sanctioned blood magic. She easily eluded the King's hunters, he sent them in battalions and she was but one, slight elf. She slipped into shadow and covered her tracks. The spies her friends sent were harder to avoid. She regretted their deaths but she would not be dragged back.
After a while the soldiers and spies ceased their hunt, but her camp was still cold for she had new enemies.
And for six years she endured. For six years she spoke only with creatures of the fade. She learnt secrets long kept and rarely spoken. She learnt lies long told as truths and truths too improbable to tell. And with this knowledge she forged a lonely path.
Until one day she awoke to find the sky above torn open. And as she gazed at the strange light she felt something shift within and her pride shattered upon the rocks of her desolate campsite.
And everything changed again.