"I'd say this place is aptly named." Lumen pulls the hood of an oiled leather cloak over her head. The Storm Coast is living up to its reputation. The gloomy, grey sky has been unleashing a torrent of rain down on her and her companions for hours. "I'd be thoroughly pissed if this place was named the Sunshine Shore."

"I'm surprised it isn't," Solas comments. "Ferelden humor tends to run a bit dry."

"Oh, that was dreadful," Dorian says, his voice smooth and warm, a stark contrast to the weather. "I loved it."

"Hurry up," The Iron Bull says, trying in vain to stifle a laugh. "You can joke about the weather later. We've got a dragon to kill!"

Making their way down to the shore is a bit precarious thanks to the rain and the possibility of mudslides. Even though this was her idea, Lumen had wanted to the wait the storm out. Bull would hear none of it. The prospect of killing a dragon was thoroughly more interesting than spending the day in a tent.

"Look, I'm not the most sure-footed of my kind," Lumen says as she follows behind Bull, desperately trying to find her footing on the sodden ground. "Can we slow down? That dragon isn't going anywhere and I am sure we can track it down if it does. They tend to be loud."

"I thought all you elves were so nimble and quick," Dorian comments. "Leaping from tree to tree, collecting nuts, and building nests..."

"You're describing squirrels."

"Am I? Ah, forgive me. I often get the two confused."

"Ass." Lumen grins at him. "You'd better be nice to me, or else we'll use you as bait."

Dorian gasps in mock affront. "You wouldn't dare!"

Thier playful spat ends when they reach the shore, where they find their dragon… fighting a giant. It's not the first time Lumen has seen something like this; dragons and giants are commonplace in Skyrim and they often get into fights. Her companions, however, are not accustomed to such things.

"That is fucking badass!" Bull roars.

Dorian heaves a sigh. "Is it too much to hope they kill each other off?"

"Yes." She looks Dorian over, before turning her attention to Solas. "Your clothes are dry."

"An astute observation, Herald."

"How? It's pouring!"

"A light barrier spell," Solas patiently explains, ignoring Dorian's pleas of 'don't tell her, it's more fun this way!' He looks away from her, watching the fight between giant and dragon with little interest. "I use the spell to protect against ambient magic. Turn's out, it's rather useful for staying dry as well. I could teach it to you, if you like."

"Not a mage," she says quickly. "Can't cast."

"As you say." Solas says nothing else on the matter, but the smug tone of his voice and his little smirk only serve to rile her further, which is probably his intention.

Lumen turns her attention to the dragon. The sight is a bittersweet reminder of home, even though the dragons of Thedas are so very different from the dragons of Tamriel. The physical differences are numerous, but the most worrisome is that the dragon's roars are just that! Roars! No discernable words or effects! No nothing! This dragon may be nothing more than a mindless beast, fighting with the giant over something as mundane as territory. It may not even have a soul.

The ground quakes when the giant finally falls. The dragon wheels in the sky, circling the giant and reveling in victory. It doesn't seem to care about the small group of onlookers, and turns to fly out across the raging waters of the sea.

"Your dragon is getting away, boss!"

"No it's not!"

She darts across the beach before anyone can question her. Her feet pound against the pebbles and sending the smaller one scattering in her wake. There is a small part of her that says she's crazy for doing this. But she needs this. She desperately needs to face down a dragon to prove that she still can. She's apart from everything that makes her whole. The Night Mother's ethereal touch is so very far away. Even the air in this world is stale and slow thanks to the veil. Everything in this world is so wrong, she just hopes fighting a dragon will make her feel right again.

"Joor Zah Frul!"

The dragon cries out in rage and whirls around in the sky, diving toward the beach. Lumen tries to ignore how helpless she feels when she realizes Dragonrend has little to no effect on the dragon. When it lands, it does so willingly. It is not forcibly grounded, which will make the fight all the more difficult.

"So it's not immortal, then. Good to know."

Bull is beside her within a matter of seconds, a glint in his eye and his teeth bared in a feral grin. "Do you have a plan?" he asks. "I don't mind improvising, mind you. I can just hit it until it dies if that's what you want."

"Wound the wings and then focus on the legs." Lumen draws her blade, grateful that Dragonbane made it through the Rift along with her. She'd be lost without it. "Sever the tendons and slow it down, then go for the head. Most dragons have a soft spot between the eyes."

"I'm on it!" Bull rushes toward the dragon with Lumen on his heels.

"Oh, they are far too pleased about this," Dorian complains, while Solas throws barrier spells around the group.

"I've noticed," comes Solas' irritated voice.

The complaints of the mages fade away in the intoxicating thrill of battle- not that the battle is going particularly well. The dragon breathes electricity and there is even a slight current running through its scales. The enchantments on Dragonbane are utterly useless against it. But the blade is still sharp and she is able to leave a wide gash on one of the forelegs, painting the grey, pebbled beach with a wash of blood.

Just when she thinks the dragon isn't quite the threat she initially thought, it jumps! Its massive tail tears through the air, catching Lumen in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. She tumbles a few yards away, only stopping when she crashes into a bit of driftwood. She gasps for air, desperately trying to fill her lungs so she can gain her bearings, because the dragon is half-limping, half-flying toward her, and it does not look happy.

Dorian buys her time when he hurls a fireball at the dragon, pulling its attention toward him instead. He is fast and fierce, more so than she ever thought. For all his self-depreciative comments about being a spoiled, Tevinter brat, he is a damn impressive fighter.

Solas is impressive as well, although she is loathe to admit it. He moves with a grace most would attribute to him being an elf, but she's seen enough elves in battle to know the difference between what's natural and what's trained. He's survived his fair share of fights. His grace has been hard-won and hammered into him through years of fighting. She'd love to ask about those battles, but she doubts he'll ever share. He holds onto his secrets as tightly as a miser clutches his purse.

She rushes back into the fray, heedless of her injuries. She hurts, but she has suffered worse pain from worse dragons. The Iron Bull savagely cuts into the dragon's hind leg, staggering it. Its movements become frantic and sloppy and it viciously lashes out when they start to close in. Dorian and Solas hit the dragon with a wide range of spells, while Lumen approaches it with Dragonbane at the ready.

The dragon collapses to the ground in a moment of exhaustion and Lumen takes the opportunity to strike. Dragonbane plunges between the dragon's eyes, the blade sliding in until it hits the back of the its skull. Lumen jumps to the ground and runs, hoping to put as much space between herself and the dragon as she can. She can usually hang on to her sword and ride out the death throes, but the dragon is fighting death with every ounce of strength it has left, and she has no desire to be tossed across the beach again.

It takes the poor creature ages to die. Seconds bleed into minutes, and Lumen wonders if they'll need to deliver another blow just to speed the process along. The dragons of her homeworld do not die easily, but she's never had to put one out of its misery, either. Mercifully, the dragon breathes its last before she has to make that call.

"About time," Lumen sighs, eager to embrace the power of a newly acquired dragon soul after all this time.

"Well, that was dreadful." Dorian scrapes something gooey and unidentifiable from his boot. "Let's never do this again."

Normally she would laugh. Normally she would be elated to have killed a dragon with the help of her friends. Normally she would be adding a new soul to her collection. But there's nothing. The corpse lays there, silent and still, taunting her with its very presence.

Solas comes to stand beside her, clearly expecting to see something. Weeks ago she told him about her ability to absorb dragon souls, and he is undoubtedly hoping to see a demonstration.

"The dragons here don't have souls, do they?"

"It appears they do not," he says irritably. "Was it worth risking our lives to find out?"

"Shove off." She waves her hand dismissively, irritated that their effort was for naught. "You volunteered to come with us. I don't want to hear any complaining."

"I volunteered because I knew the Herald of Andraste would end up killing herself on a fool's errand!"

"But I didn't."

"You are bleeding," he says, sounding every bit like an annoyed healer.

"Oh, right. I think one of the spikes on its tail may have caught me." She glances down at her torso, wincing a bit at how bad it looks. Her leather armor is shredded and covered in blood, and just looking at her injury makes her all the more aware of how much it hurts. "I don't think it's too bad. You know how these things are. They often look much worse than they really are."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, exhaustion tearing away his ability to maintain his calm composure. "You need healing."

"I don't need it so badly that I'm going to strip down right here," she snaps back, his sour mood proving to be infectious. "There are bandits and Venatori out here! I'd rather not fight them in my skivvies."

Solas sighs, his irritation mounting. "Then let's head back to camp before you bleed to death."


Lumen quickly strips her armor off, leaving her trousers and breastband on for the sake of modesty- not her modesty. She has no qualms about stripping down in front of her comrades, but she doubts any of them want to see all she has to offer. Bull, maybe. But to be fair, he wants to see everyone naked.

"Nice scars, boss."

"Thank you, Bull," Lumen says, dropping the remnants of her shredded under armor to the ground.

The aforementioned scars wrap around her torso, and up along her back and shoulders. They are brutal tears that will never completely heal, because they were given to her by a god. But she doesn't mind. The scars serve as a badge of victory, and she has no doubts that she'll acquire a few more before she manages to fix the sky.

"Fasta vass, woman! Don't you have any decent healers in your world?"

"I know a perfectly good healer, thank you very much." She grins at him. "Are you saying you don't like my scars, Dorian?"

"I suppose I can appreciate them, yet-" he waves a hand at her bound breasts. "These things are ruining the view."

Bull laughs. "Speak for yourself, Vint."

Solas pushes past Dorian. "Hold this on the wound for a while." He hands her a poultice. It is a mixture of strong-smelling herbs, wrapped in a cloth with a light frost spell placed on it. "I'll heal it when some of the swelling has gone down."

Lumen sits down near the small fire, allowing herself a moment to consider her companions. She is often disrobing around her companions back in Skyrim, usually because she's been injured, but sometimes for more exciting reasons. It's always interesting to gauge how one looks at her when she's been stripped down. Cicero's eyes often threaten to consume her, and Bull's gaze is not so dissimilar, only it lacks that borderline insane devotion that the Keeper's has. Solas sees her with the eyes of a healer, only paying attention to the nasty puncture left by the dragon and little else.

Dorian, however, has been looking at her much longer than she would expect. "So how did you come to acquire such an impressive collection of scars?"

"I fought a god," she says. "I won."

"Tell us about it," Bull urges. "All great scars have great stories to go along with them."

Lumen knows the Iron Bull does not know what to make of her. In all the various conversations they've had, he's admitted that he's not sold on her claim of being from another world. But he doesn't care where she's from as long as she can fix the hole in the sky. So he probably doesn't believe she fought a god. Sometimes she doesn't even believe it herself- and she was there! She appreciates his skepticism, though. In a world where humans, elves, and even a few dwarves, are bowing at her feet and worshipping her like a god, it's nice to have non-believers.

"Yes, do tell" Dorian says. "Varric is not here to regale us with his tales, so now the honor is yours."

Lumen runs a hand through her hair. "Um, I'm not sure where I should start."

"At the beginning, of course."

Solas' voice comes as a surprise. Even more surprising is how close it is. One moment, he is across the camp, washing his hands of the herbs that clung to his skin after he made the poultice. The next, he is at her side, removing the poultice and prodding at the wound with cool, willowy fingers.

"I guess that makes sense," she says, tensing up at his touch and only relaxing when pulls away. "Right, the beginning- um- so there's this god, right?"

"I guess we know why Varric is always telling the stories," Dorian says, beaming with amusement. "What's this god's name, dear?"

"Alduin, the World-Eater. He destroys worlds, as his name would imply," she explains. "His destiny was to destroy the world so that the next may exist, but I didn't want the world to end, so I stopped him."

"You stopped a god from fulfilling his destiny simply because you didn't want him to?" Solas asks. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk, as if she's said something deeply amusing. "You prevented a world from coming into existence on a whim?"

"That's the abbreviated version of events, yes," she says, considering her words carefully. "He'll return one day, and that world will eventually happen. I just stalled it a bit."

"Do you feel any remorse?" he asks. "That world could've been better than the one you saved. Why not let it happen?"

"I considered that, actually," she admits. "But why destroy an existing world for one that has yet to happen? I didn't exist before I was born and my nonexistence doesn't trouble me. I'm sure the people of the next world won't mind waiting a little longer."

"That's an interesting point of view."

"Oooh, I have an idea. Maybe this world is the world you stalled and as punishment you've been thrown into the future to fix all our problems!" Dorian offers her a cheeky grin. "Serves you right!"

"Ugh. That's a terrible thought," she whines, cringing when Solas reaches for her again. "If you poke me one more time, Solas, I swear-"

"Hold still," he snaps, setting the poultice aside. His hand hovers over the wound, warmth washes over her body as the healing magic knits her torn skin together. He lingers beside her for longer than strictly necessary, poking and prodding at the freshly healed skin. "How does it feel?"

"Better, thank you." Lumen fishes a tunic out of her pack. She is eager to hide her body from view. Not that she's ever been burdened by modesty, but she'd prefer it if the conversation could turn away from her for a while.

"I suggest we return to Haven at daybreak," he says as he moves away from her to sit down near the fire. "You need to rest and avoid taking any unnecessary risks for a while."

"I won't argue with that." She clasps her hand over the freshly healed wound as she stands, feeling the muscles tense painfully with just the slightest movement. "I'm going to stretch my legs," she says, and at Solas' irritated look she adds, "I won't go far. I just need to move around a bit."

"I'll go with you," Dorian says, quickly getting to his feet. "I could use a little more of this atrociously fresh air."

No words pass between them as they leave the camp. Behind her, she can hear Solas and Bull getting deep into another one of their invisible chess matches. All around her are the sounds of birdsong among the rustling leaves. The air is crisp and cool now that the rain has finally stopped. It is almost pleasant enough to distract her from the constant itching of the Anchor.

"What do you want?" she asks. "Tromping around in a forest isn't exactly your thing."

"You wound me! Is it so wrong of me to want to spend a little time with you? Solas takes up so much of it, you see…" his voice trails off, and his mischievous grin only grows wider when Lumen frowns at him. "Oh. So it's true? You and Solas will be sharing a tent tonight?"

"What are you getting at?" she asks, utterly perplexed by his behavior.

"A little birdie told me Solas was seen leaving your quarters at an- inappropriate time."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that." Dorian steps closer to her, his voice pitched low. "The bald, apostate hobo thing doesn't do it for me, but to each their own."

She can't help but laugh. "It's not what you think," she says. She never thought of Solas in that way, and she's surprised anyone else would even think the two of them together made sense! They are about a different as night and day. "He was trying to help me regain some of the memories I lost when I came through the breach. It's not terribly exciting, unless you get excited about the Fade."

"Oh, come on! You can tell me the truth." He drapes his arm around her shoulders. "Our sweet, little town of Haven isn't exactly a haven for juicy gossip! I'm positively aching to hear something scandalous!"

"I hate to disappoint you, but nothing scandalous has happened."

"Well, maybe you ought to consider it. With the way you two bicker…"

"Leave it." She grins in spite of herself. She doesn't mind his teasing, but she'd rather not endure much more of it, either. "Who told you?"

"If I tell you then I won't be privy to anymore gossip," he says. "That would be a tragedy."

"Was it Varric?"

"No."

"Was it Bull?"

Dorian laughs. "You know he's too busy with the tavern girls to care about what you get up to at night."

"Ah," she hums. "So it was Sera."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. It makes the most sense. Who else would be wandering around at that time of night? It helps that you have tells. When I said her name, your brow twitched." She grins at him, pleased she figured it out so quickly. "This is why I'm always beating you at Wicked Grace."

Dorian makes a pained noise. "I'm going to end up with something worse than lizards in my bedroll."

"No you're not," she laughs. "I'm not going to say anything to her."

It's hard to be angry with Sera for starting a rumor when she and Solas joked about it themselves. Besides, she genuinely likes Sera. The elf can always make her laugh, even when she's the butt of the joke.

"Solas will be less amused when it finally gets around to him," Dorian says with a grin. "But I expect he'll only care if the spirits of the Fade start talking about it."

Lumen shrugs. "I doubt spirits care much for the idle talk of the waking world."

"You aren't perturbed by this in the slightest, are you?" he asks, sounding impressed. "Something tells me you will play The Game quite well. Although, I hope you never have to."

"A silly rumor isn't anything to worry about," she says. Because it isn't and because the distraction of minor silly things, such as rumors or card games or whatever give her a sense of home. Her family is so far away. It's nice to feel like she's a part of something in this strange, new world. "Let's head back to camp." She tugs on his sleeve. "Are you up for a game of Wicked Grace?"

"I am, but you have to promise to tell me when I am giving my hand away," he says, sounding irritated even though his smile says otherwise. "I am tired of losing all my gold."

"It's a deal."


Notes: I didn't want to break this chapter up, so you get a long one! (Long in comparison to the others, at any rate.) I really dislike writing dragon fights, but I figured it was a good writing exercise. ;P The dragons in Skyrim are so easy to fight compared to the dragons of Inquisition, so I really wanted to have Lumen face one. It's got to be disappointing for the Dragonborn to deal with dragons who aren't these intelligent, immortal creatures they have come to know.

This chapter contains a wee spoiler for my Causa Mortis fic (ie: Lumen winning the fight against Alduin.) But I figured most people knew she'd live anyway. It would be pretty anti-climatic if I ended her story there. XD