Kirkwall was burning. Ash floated down like snow, turning Fenris's hair dusty gray. Flames licked up the sign of the Hanged Man. Inhuman screams of suffering assaulted his ears and blood was smeared all over the cobblestones. Fenris took one small step forwards, then teetered backwards. Something was missing, something was wrong. He tried to probe the empty corners of his memories desperately seeking the thing that was on the tip of his tongue. Why was he here? What dragged him to the Hanged Man?
"Serah Elf! Help!" A man in full templar regalia yelled. "An apostate is coming! She's dangerous!"
Dangerous. Yes, mages were dangerous. Was that what he was forgetting? Fenris turned toward the templar, who was rushing a small figure in leathers with her hood covering her face. This was a foe, he decided.
No, his mind whispered traitorously. Stop this, this is not right.
Instincts kicked in as the mage summoned a spear of ice and tossed it through the first templar, whipping dangerously (no, beautifully, his mind whispered) to the templar hiding in the shadows and twirling her staff in the air, slamming it on the ground and summoning a flash of flame and heat from underneath the man, who roasted in his own armor.
She didn't attack him, and that was her mistake. His sword slipped through her flimsy leather armor like it was water and she screamed. Something about that scream made him stop, her whole small body impaled on his sword. His hand was already at her chest, ready to plunge through and grab her heart, crush it, punish this mage for what she was. What she had done, what had been done to Fenris. He stopped when her hand came to his, gently, laying over top of his, fingers splayed. There was a ring on her finger, a wolf holding a ruby in its jaws. His fingers shook as he reached up, pushing the hood from her face. He revealed beautiful blue eyes that looked more shocked than in pain, pale skin he had traced kisses over and over again, her dark hair loose the way he loved.
He loved.
"Reyna." He choked on her name, the memories flooding back as he pulled his sword back from her abdomen. She swayed and collapsed, her hand on the wound. Fenris dropped the sword she had given him. Blood was gurgling up from between her fingers and her eyes were glassy.
"Fenris." She whispered. "Why?"
"I didn't...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He begged as he reached for her. She flinched away from his touch the same way he had flinched from so many others. Her precious blood was joining the stains on the cobblestones. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped lifeless. Fenris moved closer, gathering her up in his arms. Scalding tears tracked down his face and his arms shook. When he looked up for help, the abomination was there, staring them down with his glowing blue eyes and cracks of fade energy rippling off of him.
"Save her." Fenris pleaded.
"I'm trying." The abomination answered solemnly.
He awoke in the dark, staring up at a million stars. He drank in their blinding brilliance like water after walking through the desert. His fingers twitched to his side and felt the empty bed roll on the grass. A soft woof from his left made him turn, just in time to see Lucia and Reyna emerge from the thick clump of trees. He could just make out their identical worried expressions.
"The fire needed more wood. I told Lucia to stay with you, but she came and got me. Are you alright?" She asked, dumping an armload of fallen timber onto the ground. He couldn't even look at her in his shame, staring at the ground in front of him. Lucia whimpered. "Fenris?" She asked.
It was too much like his dream, her questioning tone. He felt bile in his throat like he was going to be sick. She reached for his arm and he pulled away from her quickly.
"Don't touch me." He rasped out quickly. Hawke wasn't quick enough to hide the pain on her face and it only made him feel worse.
"If it's a nightmare Fenris, it is only that thing." She waved her hand above them in the vague direction of the hole in the sky they were traveling towards. "It's amplifying...everything. I can feel it in my magic. The closer we get, the more I feel it." She explained patiently, like with a child. "It's nothing, Fenris."
"It is not nothing." He growled at her, standing suddenly. She didn't flinch, but she didn't know what he was capable of. She trusted. She'd trust him right up until he crushed her heart. His thoughts raced and roiled, panicking. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. He felt his heart spasm and fought the urge to grab her with his murderous hands and pull her close. He wanted to tell her, to explain that he was a monster.
He couldn't bear the way she'd look at him.
He turned, silently, and stalked away through the woods. Lucia made an attempt to follow, but a quick gesture stilled her and she sat beside Hawke. The last thing he saw were their eyes, dark in the night, following him silently.
He returned shortly before dawn to find them both still awake, although Hawke was tucked in her bed roll. Her dark hair shone in the dying firelight and she was still as if she'd been turned to stone. His anger had receded, leaving a dark aching hole. Lucia's tail hit the ground once, twice in greeting. Hawke didn't move. Fenris stared at the tight line of her back, wanting to say something, anything. Hawke did so first.
"Every time you do that, I think you won't come back. Maybe it'd be best." She had been crying, Fenris could hear it underneath the hard brittleness of her voice. He had to open his mouth twice before the words came out.
"Is that what you wish? For me to leave?" He asked. What would he do if she said yes? Throw herself at his feet and beg her, he supposed.
"No, but you should leave. Before I get you killed too." She said harshly.
"Varric isn't dead." Fenris responded, gently lowering himself beside her, picking her shining dark hair off the ground and spreading it over his thighs. "We'll find him, I swear to you." He promised.
"When you sound so convinced, I can almost believe you." She couldn't quite keep the tears from her voice this time. Fenris allowed his fingers to run from her scalp down to the end of the silky stands, then back up.
"Go to sleep, amata. I'll wake you when it is time to move." Hawke nodded, the movement of her head barely discernible, before allowing the silence to overtake them. Fenris looked up at the stars above them, fading into the bright light of a new day. Hawke's shoulders and back eventually relaxed and even the dog began to lightly snore. Fenris stopped stroking Hawke's hair and rose silently, tending to the fire.
When Hawke awoke, he had some tea made and their small breakfast of dried jerky and berries laid out. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and immediately looked at the hole in the sky. Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her fingers on the cold ground. Fenris brought her tea in a tin cup before she could ask for it and settled across from her. "I don't think it's getting bigger anymore." She pointed out. "The last two days, I think it's been the same size."
"It bothers you?" Fenris asked quietly. Hawke sighed.
"It makes me...uneasy." She admitted. "I feel like my magic is coming so much quicker, with so little effort. Instead of opening the door, it's crashing through every time I call it. I'm still in control." She added hastily.
"I had no doubt." Fenris responded sincerely.
"I also feel… more powerful." She added, biting her lip. "Like any fireball I cast would be twice as big, my frost would be twice as cold. It isn't pleasant, though. I was taught that much power comes with a cost. I wonder what someone paid to do that." She jerked her head toward the sky. "I find it hard to believe any mortal could do that."
"Because you have no experience with Magisters." Fenris said sourly. "When they investigate, they will find Tevinter behind it. I have no doubt."
"We'll take the main roads today. Perhaps someone will have news from Haven." Hawke decided, sipping on her tea. She didn't have to say 'news of Varric', because Fenris knew that's what she was hoping for.
"Eat first." Fenris ordered, pushing her hair back from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear with a kiss on her forehead. "You're no good to him dead of exhaustion." She rolled her eyes, taking the jerky from him and biting into a piece. Fenris fed some to Lucia as Hawke chewed.
Hawke used her staff as a walking stick and Fenris prayed that it was enough to disguise the weapon from other travelers. Everyone looked at them warily and Fenris couldn't blame them. The closer they got to Haven, the worse the countryside looked. Outside of Redcliffe had been the worst, templars and mages involved in active fighting. That's when they'd made the decision to vanish into the woods, skirting the whole area. It added to their journey and Hawke had argued against it, but Fenris was adamant that it was too dangerous. What had finally won him the argument was him asking what would happen if rumors of the Champion of Kirkwall being in the area spread. He'd asked how much worse the fighting would get, who would be caught in the middle. It had caused Hawke to reel back like he'd struck her, but she'd acquiesced to him.
They were following the Imperial Highway again, trying their best to look like refugees themselves. The first hour passed uneventfully, there were few about and all were content to keep their face on the ground as they passed.
"They're afraid you're going to stab them with that sword." Hawke hissed as another caravan driver refused to make eye contact with them. Fenris scoffed.
"Your staff scares them more than my sword."
"It's a walking stick!" Hawke protested. Fenris stopped, shaking his head in irritation.
"Perhaps that was enough of a cover before, but these people have seen the mages and templars fighting. They know what a staff is."
"I can't go unarmed, Fenris." Hawke seethed.
"I agree, but perhaps we should go back to the woods." Fenris beseeched. Hawke jutted her jaw out stubbornly.
"Not until I get news." She answered, crossing her arms over her bosom. Fenris sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Vehendis. Fine." He indicated for her to go ahead and she took the lead confidently. Fenris shared an exasperated look with Lucia. They had the road to themselves for a mile, perhaps longer. Finally, they came across a stopped caravan. The mules pulling it looked half dead. Fenris slowed and Hawke fell back with him, eyes wary. Fenris could hear sobbing.
"Stop yer blathering." A man's gruff voice said. "Ain't helpin' nuthin."
Fenris emerged slowly from the side of the caravan, Hawke behind him. A woman, covered in so much mud and dirt it was hard to make out her features, was wailing as she held the body of a small child. He was flushed red with fever and there was a nasty red burn covering most of the child's naked body. The man turned, suspicious. "We ain't got nuthin worth takin' if yer bandits."
"We are not bandits." Fenris answered, continuing to angle his body in front of Hawke. "Your son is injured. What happened?"
"He's dying!" The woman wailed, clutching her son even tighter. "Yer Dalish? You must have healing herbs!" The woman rubbed her eyes and looked imploring at Fenris, mistaking the Lyrium as this countryside was so prone to do. Hawke pushed past Fenris's arm.
"I can help." She said. "I'm a healer."
Fenris almost wasn't fast enough. The woman screamed when she caught sight of Hawke's staff and the man swung a short sword back as if he'd attack. Fenris caught the blow easily with his own sword and turned the force of momentum back onto the man, causing him to stumble. "Stop." Fenris ordered as the man gathered himself for a second attack. "This is not a fight you'll win."
Fenris could see the man considering those words as he watched Hawke apprehensively. She laid down her staff, hands out at her side. Lucia was growling at her heels but was quieted by a snap of Hawke's fingers.
"Witch!" The woman yelled. "Git away from us! Git out of here!"
"I'm a mage, you're right, but I can help. I want to help." Hawke pleaded. "There's still time to save him."
"Was yer lot that did this!" The man spat, gripping his sword tightly. "Mages that shoulda been drowned as babes! Attacking like rabid dogs, don't care who they kill!"
Hawke winced. "Please, it wasn't me or him. We're just trying to get to my friend. Let me help you."
"Void take you! I hope the Templars make you suffer b'fore they cut yer throat!" The woman yelled, clinging desperately to the dying child. Hawke looked like she would argue more, but Fenris fell back, grabbing her arm.
"We're going." Fenris said, tugging Hawke back behind him as they backed away.
"Fenris, he's going to die if nobody does anything." Hawke sounded absolutely horrified. "We have to do something."
"You cannot." Fenris pushed her back behind the caravan again, turning to grip her waist as the couple vanished from view. He stared into her blue eyes, tears threatening to spill over onto her pale cheeks. "You cannot save everyone. You cannot save those who would rather not be. I won't have you in danger for their sakes."
He guided her back into the woods and they disappeared from the main road. They made it deep into the trees before Hawke sat on a fallen log and placed her head in her hands and began to weep.
Varric had resigned himself to the thought he'd have to send the letter he wrote right after the rift was closed. The breach didn't get bigger, but it certainly wasn't going anywhere. It made his head hurt to look at it. Varric wondered if this was what Bartrand had experienced upon seeing the sky. Varric fingered the folded parchment, folded and sealed with his father's signet ring. It was terribly official, more official than anything Varric usually did. But if Maria Cadash had sacrificed herself to stop that damn thing from consuming the world, formality was appropriate. He kept her name to himself, the same way he'd kept all his own secrets from Cassandra.
But she woke up, three days after the breach was closed. The author in Varric appreciated the symmetry as he watched her exit the cabin she'd been recovering in. She'd been unconscious for three days prior to sealing the breach, three days after. In those six days, she'd went from Carta Heiress to most wanted criminal and most hated woman in Thedas, to the woman Andraste had sent to save them all. It was enough to make Varric laugh, and yet…
She emerged into daylight for the first time to the road between the cabin and chantry packed with well wishers. Every villager she'd saved had come to see their Herald of Andraste. She hid the shock on her face so quickly even Varric doubted that it had ever been there. He did notice her bracing herself, taking a deep breath before emerging from the cabin door with a genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle. She met the eyes of just about everyone looking at her as she walked slowly. She was still too pale, but it was hardly noticeable under her smile. She caught sight of Varric and her smile transformed into wicked grin that felt like it was just for him.
He elbowed two humans and an elf out of his way, crossing his arms over his chest. "You made it out in one piece, again."
"Survival is a talent." She admitted. "What is...umm, going on?" She indicated her little parade route. Varric felt his own grin broaden. He was going to enjoy watching this.
"They didn't tell you? You're the Herald of Andraste, Princess. The chosen of the Maker's chosen or something like that." Maria's smile froze, staying in place for the crowd but there was panic in her gray eyes.
"What?" She asked, dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."
"Maybe you should have told the Seeker your name before they decided to give you some other title." Varric was barely resisting cackling. Barely. "Follow your parade route, Herald. The Seeker will be all too glad to discuss it with you."
"Lovely." Maria turned and continued her walk as Varric shook his head behind her. Herald of Andraste, a dwarf? Andraste's flaming tits, humans would believe anything. And yet… he stole another glance at her red hair as she walked away, head high and pace measured. His thoughts flashed back to her, alone, under that rift as the pride demon toppled and her mark flared and green energy spun. Maybe the Maker had a sense of humor after all.
He saw her hours later. She'd managed to twist her hair back into a bun at the nape of her neck, which made her just a bit harder to catch in the crowd of Haven's main thoroughfare. She'd also changed out of the unflattering pajamas someone had stuffed her in back into the coat and trousers she'd been wearing, a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and her hands shoved into her pockets. Her face was still up, despite the cold, eyes everywhere and a smile for everyone.
"How'd it go, Princess?" Varric asked as she approached, warming his hands over his own crackling fire.
"How long am I going to have to put up with being called that?" She asked. Her voice was like warm brown sugar.
"Would you prefer Herald? I can make adjustments." He offered cheekily. She sighed and rolled her shoulders dramatically.
"I guess I'll accept my lot."
"So, now that Cassandra's out of earshot…" Varric began. "Are you holding up alright?" Maria's head tilted to the side thoughtfully. "I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than a week."
"I've always been an overachiever." She teased. "Honestly, I'm mostly hungry."
"Hungry?" Varric asked, confused.
"Can't remember the last thing I ate. I was told the grumpy apothecary dumped some broth down my throat while I was out. I'm sure he loved that." She remarked, stretching. He shirt slipped up her figure just enough to show a line of tanned skin. "I figured you'd know where to get food."
"Nobody's fed you?" Varric asked incredulously.
"Maybe Heralds aren't supposed to eat?" She mused. "Nobody has given me a rule book yet."
"Maker's ass. Sit down." He gestured to a low bench at the fire. "I'll get you something."
"I can get it!" She protested, laughing. "I need to learn where everything is. And I'm supposed to go to the Blacksmith's and I should thank the cranky alchemist."
"How you're still on your feet is the true miracle." Varric commented. "Stay here."
Without turning back to see if she'd truly stay, he turned toward the tavern. He brusquely informed Flissa he needed a meal for the Herald. She immediately exclaimed she hadn't anything ready, so Varric made do with a tray of cold meats, bread, and little pots of jam and mustard. Flissa followed him back to the campfire with a pitcher of ale and two glasses. He would have felt stupid if Maria had not still been sitting there, staring up at the whirling green mass in the sky.
"Your worship." Flissa greeted cheerfully. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything better for you."
"No, no, this is great." Maria rose to take the pitcher, gray eyes searching out Flissa's. "It is nice to meet you…?"
"Flissa! Your worship." Flissa smiled brightly. "I own that tavern. You just come in any time and I'll make sure we have something for you, Herald." Flissa gave an awkward curtsey and backed away. Maria looked bemused.
"Do you always have that effect on people?" Varric asked.
"Lately, it certainly seems like it. Thank you for this." She indicated the tray with a smile. She picked up a piece of bread and looked back up at the sky. "What do you think?" She asked.
"I think we'd need a miracle to close that thing." Varric admitted honestly. Maria smirked, looking at him from under her eyelashes.
"You do know they've asked me to stay and make a second go of it, right? With some mages or templars or somebody tall in skirts, anyway."
"Maybe you should head back to the Free Marches." Varric advised. "I've seen some big problems, but that...that won't end well."
"All this magic shite gives me a headache." Maria complained, assembling a sandwich with some of the materials. He watched as she took a big bite and made a tiny noise of appreciation. It was like a tiny breathy moan. Varric could stand to hear more of those sounds in less innocent applications. His mind conjured her on the ladder again, her rear wiggling delightfully above him.
He didn't know how far into that thought he would have gotten if the Seeker hadn't have shown up, glowering at the two of them. "Cassandra!" Maria said brightly. "Want a sandwich?"
"Solas is ready, as am I." Cassandra answered instead. "You are ruining your supper."
"Andraste's asscheeks, Seeker. She just sat down." Varric protested, but Maria was shaking her head, shoving the last bite of food in her mouth and standing.
"No, no. I'm ready. It's not far. Wanna come?" She asked Varric. Varric found himself nodding, agreeing without being sure why.
"The Inquisition is in need of lyrium. Some templars and mages stayed after the breach to help. They need supplies, but we have few of our own." Cassandra briefed Varric. "The Herald says she had brought lyrium to Haven for...commercial purposes."
"I can already tell I'll love the allusions to my family and line of work. I look forward to hearing more of them." Maria was holding the tray in her hand, gesturing to a lad who couldn't have been more than sixteen in his scout's armor. Boy probably couldn't even shave yet. "Come here." She ordered when the lad paused, looking around as if confused by catching the Herald's attention. "I've got to go, but this food shouldn't go to waste. You look like you need feeding."
"Th..thank you my lady Herald." The boy said, reaching out to take the tray.
"Make sure you share what you don't eat." She instructed, swinging her bow onto her back. Varric winked at the boy as his eyes drifted to the inquisitors posterior as she bent over and gathered her quiver and the arrows that were leaning precariously out of it. The lad blushed crimson and Cassandra made a disgusted noise, waving him away dismissively.
"Herald. You look well." Solas greeted as he came up behind them. Varric tightened Bianca's harness as the group began to trudge out.
"We hid the lyrium before heading into town. Buyer was supposed to meet us later that evening. Probably dead now, poor sod." She shook her head as they veered from the road into the woods. She paused as they entered the tree cover near the lake, examining several trees critically before lighting on one with a bit of bark missing in a shape similar to a hexagon. She stepped deeper into the forest.
"Who was your buyer?" Cassandra asked, almost casually. Maria snorted in laughter.
"You don't actually expect me to answer, do you?" She asked. "Besides, you're not much better. You're dealing with the lyrium smugglers now."
"For the greater good." Cassandra protested.
"How many have said that, Cassandra?" Solas asked. Maria couldn't quite keep from smiling and shot a look to her side that caught Varric's sly glance. Solas and Cassandra continued to bicker as Maria dodged tree branches and sank into the snow. Finally, she stopped at a pile of fallen logs and leaves. She moved them gently, uncovering crates.
"Careful." Maria advised. "They're in special crates, but sometimes raw lyrium still just...explodes. It isn't pretty."
"We'll take one crate with us and send templars back for the rest. They know how to handle it." Cassandra paused, looking down at Cadash thoughtfully. "If that is what you deem best, it is your lyrium after all."
"It's your inquisition's lyrium now." Maria shrugged. "Although if you send payment to Zarra Cadash, she'd be more than willing to supply the inquisition. I need to write to her as well. I can extend the offer."
"We will pay for the goods we take, we're not savages." Cassandra agreed. "And this...Zarra is your grandmother?" She asked.
"Nanna." Maria corrected, walking up to a short stubby tree close to the stash.
"Finally told them, Princess?" Varric asked, following as she squinted into the tree.
"Course I did. I need them to take letters back home, after all. Give me a boost, muscles?" She asked, indicating the tree.
"I believe the Seeker would be able to do that easier." Varric chuckled, but offered his cupped hands for her to step in.
"I did this with dwarves, remember?" She asked. Varric waited for her, then lifted her up. Maria grabbed onto one of the low tree branches, swinging her shapely legs into the trunk and standing in the crook of the tree. She reached up on her tiptoes to the branch above her, knocking snow and leaves on the trio below.
"What in the Maker's name are you doing?" Cassandra asked, just before a large pack fell from the tree with a bow and another quiver of arrows.
"It's my stuff!" Maria said gleefully, leaping gracefully down, rolling and coming to a stop just by her pack. "My real armor, my real bow, my ledger, my letters and…" Maria dug through her back, pulling out a large book and presenting it to Varric. He recognized the cover, his name scrawled across the bottom in bold block letters.
"The Tale of the Champion." Solas read. "The book of Varric's?"
"Of course." Cassandra grumbled. Varric noted this copy was heavily read, pages dull with use, dog eared and the cover scuffed. He beamed.
"Well, now you have to sign it." She tucked it back into her pack, hoisting the whole thing up over her shoulder. "Back to Haven, yes? I have errands."