Shatter Me
"You didn't have to come with me, you know. We were all going our separate ways. If the…well, if anyone finds me, I'm as good as dead. You sure you want to risk yourself by being in my company?"
"I helped you complete that dark deed, Anders. I am almost just as guilty as you. I could also say that you didn't have to come with me. For all we know, my kin are all murderers and thieves. My task took an hour; this may take weeks."
"Ah yes, but, by helping me with my mission, you assisted in starting a war."
"True."
Anders looked fondly at his unexpected friend. Out of all his companions of the past several years, the former slave was not one he would have suspected of running off with him on a hopeless quest as fugitives.
They had hired a small ship to head West on the Minanter River, thanks to the saved coin that Freyja had managed to pick up before they had fled Kirkwall. They would depart in Hasmal, in the warmongering country of Nevarra; from there, they would travel to the Hundred Pillars, a massive mountain range on the Eastern side of the Tevinter Imperium.
As their voyage to discover a way to separate Anders and Justice did not have a specific heading, they were traveling to find Freyja's people. Ever since she got close to Fenris, she had been having dreams of her old village that didn't connect with any of her memories. The more she thought about her childhood home, the more she realized that she couldn't easily recall many details. She didn't remember her father, whether she had any other family, or whether there were any mages among them. Most importantly, she couldn't recall why she and her female relatives had been traveling through Tevinter in the first place if their society was such a jealously kept secret.
"Do you have any theories?"
"Concerning what?"
"Why you left your colony."
The woman leaned her head against the planking of the vessel's hull, her facial markings shimmering in the light of the full moon.
"I don't know. I should apologize, Anders. Ever since these…memories started surfacing, I have become more volatile, when I was once in control over my reactions. For all I know, I committed some horrible crime and was being led to my execution. Or we could have been simply visiting some relatives. I don't like not knowing."
"Are you still protecting Fenris?"
Her focus shot straight to the mage, not having expected that question. Her voice, body, and face were all tense. She was clearly regretting her earlier allowance for Anders to ask any questions he liked.
"No."
"Really? Because you seemed pretty satisfied that he would not accompany us. And here we are traveling back to Tevinter, where you are just as likely to be once more enslaved as you are to find answers. That elf is a hopeless, destructive, bigoted spoilsport. What has he done to earn your loyalty like that?"
"From the very first moment when I knew that he was going to be my companion-at-arms for the long haul, I fought my hate and desire for self-preservation, while at the same wanting to ensure that he would have more of a chance at freedom than me. Danarius took everything from me: my family, my freedom, my happiness, my childhood, my future. In the end, he did the same for Fenris. We were the same, but I thought he could have more of a chance than I. I tried to protect him while we were slaves, and I failed."
"Well, for your sake, wherever he is, I hope he's much drier and warmer than we are right now."
Freyja laughed, pointedly looking up at the drizzling sky.
"Do you know what you're going to find? Or at least an idea?" Anders huffed, using his staff as a walking stick on the steep mountainside.
The ground was dry, but snow was beginning to dust everything in sight. They had been on these mountains for nearly four days now. Their fingers were numb and, if not for Anders' abilities to light a fire at will, they would have probably faced hypothermia the night previously. This terrain was surprisingly frigid; however, it didn't help that winter was well on its way.
"I don't know. I was always so jealous of Fenris' memory being taken and scolded him whenever he wanted to find his past. Now I find a large piece of my own childhood missing and all I can do is drag the closest thing I have to a friend up a snowy cliff in search of Andraste-knows-what. I think it's a village, but I just have this flickering image of a lot of feet and a cat. I used to think that it was normal – not having many vivid memories from your youth – but the images I've been seeing lately just don't make sense. I thought I remembered having a happy, if secretive, childhood before Danarius came along. But, compared to these visions, those memories seem foggy and distorted."
"And you're sure it was your mother and sister you were traveling with when Danarius captured you?"
"That is as clear as day. But, if we were so secretive in our lives, why would my family be traveling across the plains, out in the open? It doesn't make sense now. I just hope my instincts aren't leading me into the middle of nowhere for nothing."
"Do you see that?"
Freyja stopped short and would have fallen back downhill if not for Anders behind her for support. They clambered to the top of the ridge before she took the chance of looking.
"See what?" The mage pointed toward a break in the evergreens in the distant mist. The snow was getting heavier, but Freyja could barely make out what looked like a trail of smoke. "It looks…distorted. I'm surprised you even spotted it."
"Someone is trying to hide it with magic." Freyja jerked her head toward her companion in surprise. She didn't recall any mages in her village. "Are you sure you want to continue on this path?"
The woman didn't answer, but instead wrapped her cloak tighter and began picking her way down the precipitous bluff.
Nightfall was already closing in by the time they reached dependable ground again. They had managed to arrive in a large valley – or so it seemed in the deepening snow – and, so far, there was no sign of life beyond the continued flicker of smoke. The towering plant life seemed to stifle any noise caused by their footsteps; occasionally, a pile of snow would drop from a branch with a dull thud.
"Anders! Stay where you are," Freyja suddenly hissed, her hushed voiced cutting through the silence like a knife. It wasn't a peaceful silence, either. There was danger and alarmed tension, enough to snap a bowstring. The rogue slipped cautiously forward, shuffling her feet to check for traps, to where her companion had obediently frozen in place.
"What is it?"
Without a word, she stood behind Anders, grabbed his belt, and drew him at creeping pace backwards about ten feet. In equal silence, she moved beside him and prepared an arrow. The brush had been cleared back perfectly for a widespread trap – something she would have done herself – but there was no sign of a trigger, meaning it was magic.
"You don't sense it?"
"No?"
"Brilliant," she growled, shooting her arrow straight at where Anders' head had been only moments previously.
A grid of vivid blue fire burst into existence between the two trees and, for a brief second, the arrow was held suspended in its grasp. Freyja cocked her head, perplexed. But, then, the fire suddenly grew brighter and began to hum threateningly. She dropped to a defensive crouch just as the explosion assaulted her ears. When she looked up, Anders was releasing the force field he had erected with magic. Miniscule shards of the arrow had been dispatched in a million directions and embedded in the shrubbery.
"If they weren't expecting us before, they know we're coming now."
"Anders…" Freyja paused a little shakily. She was plenty confident in her abilities and was plenty independent, but seeing the power and hostility of these people, even if they were her kin, was not encouraging.
The man put his strong hand on her shoulder.
"There is not a chance in all the world of me abandoning you."
After that incident, they proceeded with extreme caution. The trees were beginning to thin, but they had to maneuver around three more traps before finding anything substantial. Then, the trees just dropped away.
It wasn't a village. It was a large town! While it was made up mostly of small lodges, the adventurers couldn't see where the settlement ended. There were a number of lookout posts in sight, but no walls protected it. The outer dwellings had roofs angled away from the forest so that a citizen could easily hide up there, spy on those below, and prepare an attack without being touched. At first, it appeared to be deserted; however, that idea was swiftly demolished.
At least two-dozen men and women appeared at the edge of the town from between and on top of the houses, most armed. It was a strange sight. It wasn't merely defenders with bows and swords; there were archers, warriors, and mages, all standing together – not one class above the other, but together. Freyja's initial reaction was to draw her ready bow tight, but she hesitantly lowered it again upon realizing the stupidity of such a prospect. Setting a trap and slaughtering a dozen idiotic soldiers on her own turf was one thing; but this was completely different. Their greeters created a path between them into the village in a silent command.
"Be ready to run for the trees, Anders," she whispered before leading the way and lowering her hood to get a better look around.
The guards escorted them further into the town toward the distant market square. The rest of the village seemed to be lively enough; the outskirts and their path had just been cleared to avoid detection. But how had they not noticed the life before entering? Magic? The market square was a little bigger than the Alienage in Kirkwall, and much cleaner.
A tall mage with broad shoulders, greying black hair, and pale blue eyes emerged from one of the closest houses with a shorter but still imposing sword-and-shield warrior in his wake. The duo came to a stop outside the house, standing side-by-side with perplexed and suspicious expressions. They glanced at Anders, but mostly studied the female newcomer. Freyja couldn't help but stare. Looking at the eyes of either man was like looking in a mirror – and they were just as cold.
"Interesting markings you have," the older man noted, his voice regretful but hard. It wasn't exactly the welcome statement she had hoped for, not that she knew what to expect anyway. "How did you come by them?"
"My master gave them to me…as a sadistic gift."
"Your 'master'?"
"I was a slave for fourteen years. A mage took me captive…after I left here," she explained carefully. His eye twitched and younger man's eyes widened a bit. "You recognize me, don't you?"
"But you do not remember this place?"
"Beyond a few flashes, no."
The mage sighed – perhaps in relief – and waved to the guards. All members of their escort but three (an archer, a mage, and a warrior) dissipated into the village and the guests were invited into the house. Freyja hadn't realized how cold she was until the heat of the fireplace in the main hall of the lodge hit her. The building comprised of a long room with a fire, a sitting area, and a long dining table, and smaller halls and rooms branching off from there. The guests and their two hosts sat on the couches near the fire while the guards lounged at the table. No offered food or drink; just those cold stares.
"My name is Rodrick."
Freyja was finally fed up.
"You're my father, aren't you? I thought you were dead."
"That's what I intended," the man stated, his voice softening a bit as he leaned back in his chair. "Altering that much of your memory was…trying." No regret there. "You are upset, naturally. But you can at least appreciate the effort it took to not simply wipe your memory. You wouldn't have gone with your mother and sister if you didn't know who they were. That was simply your nature."
The woman worked her jaw, trying and failing to find an excuse to be sympathetic. Her voice, therefore, was just as unforgiving as her apparent sire's tone from earlier.
"Why? My life…was no life."
"Your mother and sister's task was to get you beyond reach of this place. Where you ended up after that was not our concern."
"They died. Danarius killed them. How can you be so callous?"
"Leon and I have had time to cope." Freyja realized she was looking at her own brother. "And I am not being callous." Apparently, there was a temper under there after all. "We have been shaped by hard lives here."
"Why all the secrecy?" Anders suddenly asked, clearly noting that Freyja was ready to explode. Rodrick seemed pleased with the change.
"My people came to this valley a long time ago, during my grandfather's youth. Most came from Tevinter, the Free Marches…anywhere where there was an uneven balance of power between those with and without magic."
"But…how did you manage to make it work. In the Free Marches, war has broken out because they can't find a compromise. I've almost given up hope on a solution."
"As you may have seen with your escort, we have tried to make everything an even share among the various classes. Everyone has a say, but the leaders are ultimately one mage and one non-mage that are either married or otherwise related. When that line is broken it moves on to another family by majority vote of all adults in the village. Years ago, I led with my wife; now, I lead with my son. When I die or decide to step down, it will continue with my son, if he has married a mage; if not, it changes."
"Fascinating."
"Yes, fascinating," Freyja drawled, leaning forward. She was beginning to feel trapped and her fingers itched to grasp the daggers that were still on her hips. "Care to explain why you decided to ruin my life?"
Rodrick pursed his lips as if a child had just begun a tantrum.
"You were sentenced to exile."
"I was sixteen."
"That is our age of adulthood. I couldn't protect you any more than I did."
"And, by protecting, you mean sending two other women with me to dump me in the middle of nowhere?"
"We needed to know that you were safely far away. You killed an outsider who was scouting for the Imperium in cold blood. We set traps, wipe memories, and kill if directly attacked, but we do not kill needlessly. What you did was one of our greatest crimes. And you had no remorse for what you did."
"Did you look into the circumstances? Maybe it was self-defense."
"It was not."
"Fun fact: It's a cruel world out there – kill or be killed."
"You only prove my point. That is not how we function. Excuses are a poor cover. Clearly, these years have not taught you that lesson," he sighed.
Freyja's markings surged to life as she stood, causing all present but Anders to reach for their weapons.
"I witnessed my mother and sister's murder! I was taken into slavery! I was tortured and abused in the worst ways imaginable! I had molten lyrium poured into my flesh and it causes me agony every day! I have fallen in love and held back my feelings because it would destroy me. I have come to the edge of death a hundred times. I don't expect to be welcomed with open arms, but give me a little credit! If I could show you what I have been through, I would. Then you would not be so hasty to disregard my experiences and condemn me for surviving. It's the only thing I know. And you are responsible."
Apparently, Rodrick and Leon had not expected this. The older man remained silent, puzzled. It was her brother who spoke this time – his voice just as warm as his father's was cold.
"We never said that you couldn't come back; we simply wanted you to understand."
Freyja sat down with a huff.
"That was not the impression I got from dear Daddy."
"Now that you're back and you have been through so much, it only makes sense that you should stay. Besides…" He glanced at Rodrick. "It wouldn't be good for…security reasons for you to go back out there. We would probably cause permanent damage if we tried altering your memory again." She narrowed her eyes. That still didn't sound like open arms. "So, admittedly, you're sort of stuck here. But your...companion must depart as soon as possible. Our society depends on the absence of outsiders who come with ill intent or mere curiosity."
"I don't intend to leave my friend as your prisoner," Anders spoke up, no longer enchanted by these people.
"She's my sister, not a hostage, good sir. We simply have very strict rules. You have no choice in this matter."
Rodrick stirred once more.
"Clearly, you have no more business here, young man. The shorter your stay here is, the easier it will be." The three guards took their cue and stood. "These young people will make sure you make a safe departure."
"I don't understand," muttered the concerned abomination. He met Freyja's wide-eyed gaze. She shook her head frantically, either in panic or because she knew that this was usually the sort of moment when Justice decided to say his piece. He managed to maintain control, however.
"Your journey to find us will be erased. The rest of your memory will remain intact. I'll be sure you're not left in hostile territory. All the luck to you."
As Anders slowly walked toward the door, he looked back at Freyja, not sure what to do. They were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Andraste knew how many fighters and mages. They wouldn't live through a conflict against them. Freyja stepped towards him, but Leon discouraged her with a light hand on her arm.
"Anders," she said, "find the others. If you forget all else, remember that. Find Fenris!"
As the door shut, Rodrick nodded in satisfaction.
"Leon, would you care to get Lara settled somewhere?"
Freyja did a double take at the use of her old name, but her father was already disappearing down a hall. She sat down once more, suddenly realizing that she was alone – really, truly alone – for the first time in years. She didn't have Hawke and his crew to come save her. Fenris didn't even know where she was (and perhaps didn't care) and Anders would soon not even remember that they had made this trek together. Leon's hand encompassing her own threw her off-balance in her thinking.
"I'm sorry."
She scowled, finally getting a good look at the young warrior. He was a little taller than her and very broad in the shoulders. His blue eyes were dreamy and his short golden hair fell in unruly waves over his brow. Lady magnet. Her brother.
"Why are you sorry?"
"The village has its rules for a reason, but sometimes…I think rules should be bent. I remembered the day you killed that man. I was thirteen years old. You had gone on patrol by yourself in the outer borders. You came back home just…covered in blood; I think you were in shock. Father asked what had happened and you said that you killed a trespasser before he hit one of the traps. I don't recall what the trap was exactly, but you insisted that the man would have died the worst of deaths and you would have had to watch him suffer.
"You never could stand seeing others get hurt." Freyja snorted a laugh. That tune had certainly changed. "When father announced your punishment, you just…took it. Mother and Lena volunteered to escort you once your memory was erased. They hated father for sending you away like that; since Mother was co-leader, such a show of defiance nearly caused a riot against Father."
"Why didn't it happen?"
Leon shrugged.
"Father has a way with words."
"If he does these things, why let him continue?"
"Trust me. We could do worse. Father has his faults, but he is aware of them. He knows he can be a bit power-hungry and he fights against that."
"That's no excuse for…this," she spat. "I have learned no lessons from having my memories taken and being dropped into the ether. I am only bitter."
Leon bowed his head sadly.
"I really hope you'll see us differently once you get to know us. It's been difficult ever since we lost you and Lena and Mother."
