Decades later: Post Chantry Boom


At first, the snow had been a novelty. Pretty, swirling patterns falling from the sky, each and every one unique.

The closest any of the huddled mages had come to experiencing it before, was when they'd dared to reach their arms through one of their tower's barred windows.

But then the cold had started to set in.

The biting of the frost, stinging their faces as it whipped past, the deepening pits of snow that swallowed and numbed their feet along with the ever present howling of the wind as the storm raged around them, distracted them from any of the beauty that had once entranced them when the storm was that bit lighter.

And yet they persisted, they kept walking, those who were young, those who were too young and those whose faces were creased not just by a wince at the cold. They persisted because, as the wind blew out any attempt at summoning a fire, they knew that if they stopped, it they did not find shelter before nightfall, then they would not live past it.

But the so-called leader of the group had refused to let this break them, for moral to drop and their spirits break.

They would make it! They insisted.

They would find shelter! They said.

And they did. A crotchety, shoddily constructed barn with gaps in the walls and some of it's wood clearly marred with burns, but shelter nonetheless.

And it lessened the cold, not enough to take of their cloaks and they wouldn't dare try start a fire lest the entire place catch alight, but it was survivable.

They would be able to wait out the storm here safely.

And no-one would find then either. After all, who would willingly go out to their barn during a snowstorm?

*Bang*

Children screamed and the older mages of the group pushed them behind as they forced themselves up, getting ready to defend themselves if necessary. They didn't want to hurt any farmers but they would not go back! They would never go back to the tower with it's blighted Templars!

"Thought so". A gruff voice, as the door slammed shut again.

It was too dark to get a good luck at the figure but so far they showed no signs of making a move to attack or report.

"Trying to bring down my shutters and I see you lot traipsing across my land."

"I'm sorry we-"

"No need for any excuses. You should thank the Maker I saw you, don't think the barn will last the storm."

"-I'm sorry?" The leader wasn't entirely sure whether to allow themself to be hopeful enough you speculate what might be said next and the muttering among the other mages seems to indicate they too were unsure.

"I said the barn isn't going to last the storm. You best come inside."


Inside the house there was able to be a fire, once they'd gotten the shutters closed that is. And they hadn't even have to light it themselves!

The children were particularly excited at this development, at getting to meet someone new who was nice to mages! The addition of some toys being introduced only heightened that.

The toys, also heightened the leader's suspicions as to why exactly the old woman had granted them access to her home. As did the fact that the house was clearly built for more than one person living in it, and yet when asked she had confirmed herself to be it's only resident.

But the subject of that particular suspicion had not yet been broached with her.

Especially as, if their hypothesis was correct, then the matter was bound to be touchy.

"So, what brings you down here? If you're looking to cross the channel then any boats capable of doing so are a good way away. Not a distance that could be easily walked." The leader almost jumped as the woman spoke from behind them. Last they'd been paying attention she'd been with the kids.

"The Templars know that and expect us to go a more direct route. They'll be swarming there, so we decided to go the way that's less likely to get us caught." They replied, unsure how much information to give, lest she did suddenly change her mind and tip the Templars off.

But there was clearly something else the old woman wanted to know, with her feet shuffling as she seemingly tried puzzle out exactly what to say. The leader was just about to ask what she was thinking when she finally spoke.

"Are you from the Fereldan Circle?" Their was an audible catch in her voice there.

Ah. It was seeming that the Leader's prior hypothesis was likely correct. As for how to proceed with this...hmm...

"Yes. Do you-"

"My son." She interrupted, brown eyes snapping up to meet those of the leader. "My bastard husband, Maker have mercy on his soul, sent my little baby boy off to that wretched place and I want to know what happened to him. If he- if he got out too. He's not with you, but you can't have been the only ones to have escaped. You can't have."

And there it was, confirmed right there. From what they'd heard of other apostates they'd briefly encountered, most non-mages that you could trust had been robbed of someone by the Templars, whether a friend, a sibling...or a child.

"We weren't. What was his name?"

The very moment the leader had confirmed there having been other escapees, the old woman looked like all of Thedas had been lifted from her shoulders and she replied with a name instantaneously.

And the leader felt their heart sink when she did.

"I'm sorry. I don't know of that name. But perhaps Anders would, he's from the same Circle and there's rumours he's still alive! He'd be the most likely to know your son if..." If anyone does. "...well, we could pass on a message if you like. To whoever we see first." It was the very least they could do.

And with that the lady darted off, weaving through mages at a surprisingly fast speed for a woman of her apparent age.

She then pulled out a box and paused, staring at it with a lone finger tracing over the covering of it's wooden surface.

Her face war unreadable as she headed back towards the Leader. They couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"These were my letters to him. We were supposed to learn together, mother and son on how to make sense of all the words and put them on paper. But then it was just me and I had to learn myself so I could keep my promise to him. To write so that he wouldn't have to be alone. Not that it did any good anyway. Each time I thought I could afford the bribe for Templars to pass it on, they rose their prices. Some servants of the Maker they are, stealing babies and leaching off the poor!" At first, her tone had been like her face: unreadable. But by the end of it their was nothing but pure contempt.

The box was abruptly shoved into the leader's arms.

"There'll be no justice for my son, no judgement passed or vengeance that will be delivered for what was done to him bar that of Andraste and the Maker themselves in the end, as it is with all creatures. Nor do I expect forgiveness for not protecting him as a mother should have."

Her head tilted up in defiance as she spoke, and something about it all seemed almost familiar. As did those eyes...but they couldn't be. The leader knew for a fact that he'd never even heard the name of her son before in their life, never mind knowing him well enough to pick out his traits in his mother.

They must just be looking for things that weren't there.

"But I want him to have these. I want him to know the truth. I want him to know that his mother loves him, I want him to know...I'd like to see him again, my precious boy. Even if it's just once..."

A pesky voice in the leader's head whispered how the woman's son may perhaps already have perished, whether in the aftermath of Kirkwall and the start of the Mage Rebellion or long ago in one of the Circle's dungeons.

But they were not going to say that to a grieving mother, especially one who was so clearly unable here to even consider the possibility herself.

"I promise lady, to do the best I can to make sure that he does."


And they did.

It wasn't until three days later that the mages finally left in the cover of night, bellies filled and gifted with clothes and food by their host, who waved them off before returning to her home, where she would continue to wait for a very long time in case any more mages came by her abode in need of help, praying to see a familiar face turn up at her door.

As for the mages, if was another few weeks before they were able to be safely smuggled onto a boat that would lead out of Fereldan. The leader still held the box that had been entrusted to them.

They were looking for Anders, chasing rumours in the hopes of a leader in this chaos that was a Mage-Templar war.

If they didn't encounter the son first, then they would entrust the letters to Anders, who having been a free apostate for such a wonderfully time was bound to have more contacts and more chance at knowing the son.

Of course, there was a chance that they would never find either of them, which the leader had to concede.

But rebellions were built on hope.

And throughout this entire revolution they would do whatever the could, to cling onto that hope.

Until their people were free once and for all.


The End