Full Summary:
For Elia, "Soothsayer to the Divine" isn't just a title. It's a shield. For ten years, the freak mage has wrapped herself in the safety of that title and the lies surrounding it. By the time of the Conclave, there were few still alive who knew the truth. Among them, is the newly acquired Commander of the Inquisition.
She and the ex-templar have a history, and it's… complicated. But now's not the time. The world is drowning in chaos and more desperate for order than ever. But with her soul clinging to the past and her dreams tangled up in the future, how is Elia meant to deal with her life in the present?
9:41 Dragon – 10th of Firstfall
Village of Haven
When Elia finally awoke, she did so screaming.
Panting, she stared at the ceiling as the room swayed and spun like a ship caught in the midst of a storm. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grabbed for her journal.
There wasn't any time to let the dizziness subside. Not now that she finally understood what her dreams had been showing her. It was… It was horrible. And the woman… It wasn't Justinia, was it? She'd struggled so long to get a firm grasp on the vision but—
The door to her cabin swung open and Elia jumped, dropping her journal, as a pair of guards ran in.
"Are you alright, Lady Soothsayer!?" one asked with her sword drawn.
The other crashed into the first then stumbled into a table. A glass fell and shattered against the ground. As Elia stared at the shards, the blood drained from her face. She tried to swallow the dread creeping up her throat, but it was no use. There was no time to mull over what she'd seen. It would happen too soon for that. She had to assume the worst and go.
"Where is the Divine?" she asked springing from her bed. "Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast?"
"Her Holiness is at the temple, my lady," the first guard answered as Elia moved behind her changing screen. "She requested your presence once you finished dreaming. The Conclave—"
"Must be halted," Elia said sternly. "Send word to the temple. Have Most Holy taken to safety for the time being. Bring me my horse and tell Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast to prepare for a fight."
"A… A fight, Your Ladyship?" the second guard squeaked. "Should we alert Commander Cullen as well?"
Elia's hand slipped a buckle and she stilled.
Right. That's right. Cullen— Commander Cullen was here as well.
The two hadn't seen each other in years. Not since the Incident in Kirkwall. She knew, of course, that Justinia asked Cassandra to seek him out while she was in the Free Marches. She was the one who assured Her he would accept, after all.
She assured Leliana, too, that working together wouldn't be a problem. At the very least, she promised to be professional.
Just as well, he had to have known accepting Justinia's offer would mean having some contact with her. She was "The Divine's Mage", after all.
But even without her gifts, Elia knew enough of the templar that he would work with anyone, anyone at all, even herself, if it meant bringing some sense of peace and order back to the land. He was good like that. And despite their own issues and clashes in belief, she was glad to have another dedicated person on their team.
Even so, she'd done a pretty spectacular job of avoiding him since his arrival.
"A most fascinating dance," Josephine called it one night, giggling when the mage appeared a perfectly timed 32 seconds after the commander had left. It was childish, sure, but Elia didn't care. It was better this way, and unless Justinia Herself asked her to do any different, she was going to keep it this way.
There was just too much history between the two of them. Too many memories and too much pain that the mere thought of running into the ex-templar dredged up. So even if others called it odd or silly, it didn't matter. For Elia, it was better than the alternative.
Besides, eventually, she and the Divine would return to Orlais. Staying amongst the forming Inquisition would be too conspicuous. The distance would spread the focus of their enemies and even cull some suspicions of Justinia's motives. Not all, of course. But it would be better than nothing. And Justinia, master of The Game that she was, could pull her strings better from the Sunburst Throne anyway.
The distance would help Elia, too. Her dreams would be clearer once she got away from whatever it was that was messing with her here. There would be more work for her to do then, and less time to spend agonizing over old ghosts she didn't want to face.
Cullen's presence in her mind would fade once he was farther away. He would rejoin the rest of the ghosts, only coming to the surface when an old memory clawed its way there. But even then, it would only last a moment before fading away. And she would get on with her day. Just like she always did.
Yes. Everything would go back to some version of normal sooner or later, she told herself. She just had to suffer through until then.
"My lady?" the guard called after too long a pause. "Should we alert the commander as well?" he asked again.
Right. Elia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Right . This wasn't the time to think of such things.
She opened them again and focused on the task in front of her.
"Yes," she muttered, continuing with her armor, "the commander as well. Now get going. Time is of the essence."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Elia hurried to finish dressing as their footfalls clambered across the floor and out into the snow. There were only so many warnings before her dreams unfolded in the physical world, and one – the shattering glass – had already passed. Even worse, she didn't even know what most of the warnings were this time.
Lately, all her dreams had been tinged red and frayed at the edges. She could barely make anything out. Everything jerked around so chaotically, warping from one scene to the next and back again so haphazardly, it left her nauseous.
The only other time her dreams acted up in such a way was on her last visit to Kirkwall. But even then, the… interference , for lack of a better term, hadn't been so intense. Her dreams hadn't been confusing or stomach-churning. Only scattered and hazy from the red static that now overwhelmed her.
Here, in this tiny village that was once filled with cultists, the interference had been plaguing her for weeks. Every night, her head spun with tiny, garbled fragments drenched in red. Every morning, she woke sick to her stomach and incomprehensibly terrified. It was just another reason to leave this wretched place as soon as possible in her opinion.
She hated being in the dark like this, on the edge of knowing but unable to make the necessary connections. She hated having nothing concrete to give to Justinia. The older woman was as understanding as She could be, but the Conclave was too important. Too much was at stake. Unnamable fear wasn't good enough.
"Dream until it is clear," Justinia ordered her. "Sleep as often as you can. Take sleeping draughts if you must, but we must know what is coming, Elia. The Maker gave you these gifts for times like these. We must not let Him, or the people of Thedas, down."
And because she was bound to Her, and, more importantly, because she agreed, Elia did just that.
Most of her time in the small village was spent in bed. She burned herbs, took sleeping draughts, and drank warmed milk until she fell into such a dead slumber nothing could wake her. Some were beginning to worry demons might overtake her or that she might even get stuck in the Fade – if that was even truly where her unconscious mind went to receive her visions – but it didn't matter. It helped Elia come closer and closer to piecing her miserable dream together, and that's what the Divine wanted. So that's what she did.
And it paid off.
Now that she'd finally seen it clearly – well, clear enough – she finally understood the fear she woke with, the horror that swam hand-in-hand with the nausea.
Her fingers trembled as she laced her boots. When was the last time a vision had left her so frightened? Was it the first time she dreamt of the Archdemon flying overhead? The bloodshed at Kinloch Hold? The coming of the war?
All of them shook her to her very core. And yet this one was worse. Far, far worse.
Ash and blood covering the scorched earth. A devoured sky. Millions of deaths across the world playing out in a single instant; each dying scream colliding into one thundering cry. The world in red, bloody chaos. The Veil itself torn asunder. A sea of demons kneeling before an unseeable creature; a dark god, a king of evils, a monster of impossible power.
She shuddered. "One thing at a time," she told herself. "One foot, then the other."
Johanna's advice from all those years ago came back to her. "There's no sense tripping over your trousers to get to the future on time," she'd said with a grin.
Elia smiled briefly at the memory until a knock came at the door.
"I have your horse, my lady," a voice said through the wood.
"Thank you, I'll be right out!" Elia finished fastening her fur-lined coat. She secured a pair of daggers to her hips and picked up her staff. With one hand on the door, she let herself pause to take a breath.
Her heart pounded fearfully in her chest. Dread rolled off her in waves. Her armor, light as it was, felt weighed down by it; as if it had been enchanted to capture her fears and shackle them to her.
She scoffed. As if she needed any help being dragged down.
With a shake of her head, she took another long breath. It would be okay. Her vision would not come to pass. Justinia – if that even was the woman she saw in her dream – would be fine. She was acting as fast as the Maker would allow. Besides, He wouldn't let His most ordained servant be harmed in such a way… Right?
Elia nodded, reassuring herself. She straightened her stance and put on a brave face. Everything would be fine.
She stepped out of her warm cabin and into the chilly Frostback air. Despite her thick coat, she still shivered against the muted wind. Flint, a majestic grey stallion, was glad to see her and nuzzled against her hand — still impossibly warm despite how cold she felt.
They rode out of Haven and along the pilgrim's path as fast as Flint's hooves could carry them through the crowd. She could feel the panic building again. The sheer number of people heading up to the temple made her breathing pick up.
The continuous stream of mages and templars that hadn't eased in days. Then there was the handful of nobles and Dalish curious to see the peace talk's results, the merchants and mercenaries all looking to make a good profit, the ambitious Chantry members and eager scholars, the scheming politicians and everyday Andrastians all coming together. All in the wake of coming tragedy.
She didn't want to believe her dream would come so soon, that the Maker would allow such a thing to happen. She didn't want to set off waves of hysteria for something that shouldn't— wouldn't— couldn't happen. But the deep, hollow, vibrating fear in her chest was impossible to ignore.
Elia had seen the Maker's will done more times than she cared to count. She did not pretend to understand His plan, but she had seen the devastation it wrought, the pain it left behind. She felt the heartless horror it could unleash, heard the echoing screams of His deafening silence. To trust that He would turn His gaze upon the world now, now of all times, was foolish. Nothing but a reminder of her past naivety — and mistakes.
Elia stood in her stirrups and screamed for people to move out of the way, to go back. She shrieked that danger was coming, that the temple was unsafe.
The slow tide slowed and stumbled to a stop as people turned toward her loud, piercing voice. Confusion and uncertainty spread quickly among them.
Someone shouted that she was a madwoman. Another called her crazy. A freak. She kept screaming.
Someone called out her title. Then another. And another. As people recognized that title, her one saving grace, they began to move. Soon, there was a wide part in the path for the Soothsayer and her steed to tear across.
On either side, people began to push and shove. Some did not trust her word. Others didn't know who or what a Soothsayer was. But the wave of Andrastians who did trust and know of her – or at least what the Chantry told them of her – was large enough to begin turning back the marching sea. That eased her heart a bit. If word continued to move fast enough, lives would be saved regardless of the Maker's lacking gaze. Or maybe this was part of His plan...
Either way, Elia continued to shout, and the people continued carrying her message forward. When she finally arrived at the base of the temple, some were already hurrying to their mounts or rushing to find those they came with. She was grateful but wasted no time on the minor relief.
She jumped off Flint and bolted into the temple. She weaved between a group of panicked mages and a pack of Carta dwarves to get to the main hall. A templar grabbed at her, demanding to know what was happening, but Elia spun just out of her reach and kept running.
Justinia was alright. Surely, she was alright. She had to be. Elia had acted as quickly as possible. She'd sent word ahead with the guards, and then again with those traveling the pilgrim's path. Most Holy had surely been whisked away by now. Elia was only checking to save her own nerves. That was all.
The Divine was safe. The conclave would be postponed for the time being, and the temple would be searched from bottom to top, but peace talks would eventually resume. The war would end. They'd return to Orlais. The world would right. Everything would be fine. Everything was fine.
There was no reason to panic, she told herself. None at all. Everything was completely and totally fine.
.
.
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Hi!
This story is going to be a creative challenge/exercise for me as it's going to be told more-or-less non-linearly. There may be some chapters that pick up where the last one left off, but in general, we're going to be popping all across the games' timeline and picking up a few codex entries along the way! I'm typically a slow updater but this fic seems to lean towards shorter chapters so who the hell knows!
I'll be putting the year and date at the top of each chapter. If you want me to DM you the Thedosian calendar I can but please know that (other than the year) I'm seriously guesstimating most of the dates.
Also, I haven't read any of the books so forgive any not-knowing in that realm. Tho there's gonna be a bit of divergence from canon here, as you've probably already started to notice, so... yeah. Anyway, I hope you'll give this fic a shot and let me know your thoughts so far!