ACT II: Inquisitor
Note: A little bit of a filler, but we'll get to the great stuff once we get to Skyhold! Thanks again to everyone who continues to return and leave comments, I'll try and catch up on them. I appreciate your patience and your efforts, thank you so much!
For the briefest of seconds, the faintest of voices echoed through my ears. Watery images of faces I faintly recognized. The wind-chime voice of my mother's singing and dad's obnoxious laughter, caroling along with her. The memory was gone as my eyes opened and the prick of tears trailed after it with a shuddering and empty sigh.
"You're awake." An incredulous voice reached my ears. A hard blink brought Solas' face into focus. His cold hand came to my cheek, a gentle thumb brushing away whatever tears had managed to form. With a tremble, my Marked hand reached up and held his to my skin, relishing in the affirmation of reality.
"I'm awake," I whispered, astonished. "Jesus… Jesus."
"Shh," Solas brought his other hand to my vacant cheek and held my face firmly. "None of that. Let's not go into the throws of panic just yet."
"I'm in shock, asshole." I grumbled weakly, instinctively bringing my right hand to over his other one. What a picture we'd make, I was sure. The warmth of his palms was reassuring, but nothing I did stopped the flow of tears from coming. Stress and shock threw my body into a chaotic trainwreck of signals.
"Perhaps not in so much shock if your foulmouthed nature hasn't failed you." Solas teased, patting my face lightly and letting go. He gripped my shoulders to pull me up into a sit when he realized I was attempting to lift my weight from the cot.
"It's a coping mechanism." I gasped, holding my side as pain flared up through my ribs and heart. "Fucking, Jesus — what happened?"
"Where?" Solas deadpanned, crossing his arms and leaning back on his small stool. "To your ribs? There are four broken. To your arm? Bruised, lacerated, and possibly infected. To your —"
"Aye, aye, aye!" I raised a hand and waved him off, coughing with a wince. "Alright, I got it, I got it. Christ." The silence settled between us, his eyes dark as he scanned me over, searching for something. My weight adjusted in the cot and I leaned into my palms at the edge of the bed, glancing around.
"Where are we?" I asked quietly. "This… how far are we from Haven? How many got out?"
Solas glared at me, sharp and pained. "... I suppose a good leader would be concerned with the state of her people. Most of us survived, but a good many were lost in the battle. Most of the civilians are gone."
"Ah… shit." My trembling hand came up to my forehead, pushing my hair back.
"As for Haven, it is demolished, buried in the avalanche. There is no return." Solas cut his words short, an angry, underlying buzz in his demeanor. No words formed in my throat, I couldn't think of what to say to his statement. How many is that dead? Did we keep a roster? A list? Who's gone? Do we tell families?
"Christ," I breathed, both hands coming up to my face and rubbing along my cheeks roughly. "What about…?"
"The three are alive." Solas ticked off his fingers, "Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine orchestrated the retreat rather efficiently, considering the circumstances. The others of your troupe, alive, in various states of recovery."
The relief I felt was bittersweet. Those closest to me had survived, all of them, and yet I couldn't quite bring myself past the guilt that gurgled at the bottom of my bowels. So many others had died, killed in the fight or in the avalanche, those left behind because we couldn't find them, or because we —
"Stop." Solas' hand came forward and rested over my knee. A sharp look brought my eyes up to his gaze, the line of his mouth firm and jowls tight. "I see the grave you dig, Jaime, and you must stop."
"Solas," I started, but he turned his head with eyes closed, the other hand raised to silence me.
"No. Listen to me." Solas commanded in a low and level voice. "You cannot — cannot allow yourself to fall into guilt over things you could not possibly control. Look at me." I did, startled at the spark of his demand, nervously twitching my knee under his hand.
"Do not pity these people, do not insult them so." He continued, his hand gripping my knee with a squeeze. "These people came to you, to aide you, to assist you — do not allow your guilt to taint their sacrifice. They chose their path. Honor that. Find strength in their belief that victory was inevitable."
"It almost wasn't," I protested softly, "we almost all died in the depths of Haven because —"
"And yet we didn't." He countered heavily, pushing at my knee slightly. "Do not confuse what could have been with what happened. The future is judged by the decisions we choose to follow. It cares nothing for what never existed. Do you understand?"
"... I understand." Reluctantly, I did. Logically, I knew what he was getting at, because allowing myself to just be consumed by the failure of losing so many lives would do nothing to bring them back. It didn't stop the black bile from rising in my throat, though.
"So then, to the important issue." He leaned away from me again, ramrod straight as he pointed to my left hand. "That has returned. Was it the doing of this new abomination?" The Mark glowed between us as I brought it up close to my chest, the edges of my hand tattered and torn, the scratches and blood cleaned. I frowned.
"No bandage?" I asked quietly. Solas stiffened before he sighed and reached over to another nearby crate, rummaging through it before he pulled out a short strip of cloth. Carefully, he placed it in my palm and after a few seconds, the cloth material disappeared into my palm.
I immediately held my palm out like a grenade.
"Holy fuck, what the fuck," I exclaimed with a strangled voice, my gaze shooting to Solas for explanation.
"I am as — concerned." He struggled for a word, because I could hear the rest of it on the tip of his tongue; confused, baffled, alarmed. This was No Bueno and the idea of a black-hole in my hand soared rapidly to the front of my thoughts, old conversations long forgotten.
"Solas," I snipped desperately, unsure of what else to say.
"It has not been harmful to anyone, though Cole has been wary of it." Solas clarified with a hard look to me. "Mother Giselle had been able to heal you and clean you without much trouble. Adan could see no other wound aside from the tearing in your palm."
"Will you listen to what you just said?" I snapped with a low voice, my brows pinned over my eyes. "Tears? What do you mean — fucking hell, it must have been from Corypheus."
Solas' rounded on the name sharply. "Who? Give me the name again, Jaime."
"Corypheus, that's what he called himself." I debated telling him Varric's story, but that would have to be reserved for later, right now what mattered was the immediate impact of the information. "According to him, this here in my hand is an Anchor. He was using it to get — to get into the Fade."
A deadly, brackish silence suddenly swallowed us. The kind of silence you feel when a parent found your secret stash, the kind of silence where a friend looked at you and thought how fucking dare you and to be honest, it made my hand curl away from him, my body slanting to one side as if to escape him.
"He did," Solas bit every word from his mouth, "did he tell you how?" Carefully, I cherry-picked my words. Wholly was I unwilling to bring the wrath of Solas upon my head, regardless of it being my fault or not.
"Not — not that I can recall." No time for teasing, as much as I wanted to. A dragon had kinda been an important piece for a while there, if you can remember, but that was better left unsaid. Solas looked impatient with his twitching ears. "He said he spent years, or something like that… to make it."
"Truly." Solas answered icily. "And he was going to use it to enter the Fade? Why?"
"That, that you might want to ask Varric." I muttered uneasily, feeling as if I was throwing my dwarven-brother under the figurative Bus Of Blame. "I — I only recognized the name because Varric told me this story about how Hawke and Bethany —"
"I know the story," Solas interrupted impatiently.
I blinked, blindsided. "You… you do?"
"I have heard it, once upon a distant night at camp." Solas waved off my surprise, charging onward. "This is the same Corypheus, then? Varric will not be pleased."
"No fucking shit." I announced blandly. "I don't think anyone is gonna be happy about an ancient evil rising from hell to drag us into Armageddon." We were in a fucking video game from the way that sounded flying out of my mouth. A sigh came up with my hand as my fingers pinched the bridge of my nose.
"It fails to explain how this item came to exist in your palm." Solas prompted, arms crossing over his chest. Tentatively, my palms pressed together. The Fade didn't suck me into a vortex and no imminent danger surrounded us from the contact. No screams, no tendrils. No monsters.
"I don't know." I answered honestly, looking at my pressed hands. "He was trying to rip it out of my palm with this orb-thing he had. It was shaped about the size of my head, with grooves all through it. It glowed red."
Solas stared at me, deeply.
"... you're scaring me, man." I rubbed my hands together nervously. "But, yeah. He tried to yank it out, and when he couldn't, he told me I spoiled it with my stumbling. Asshole."
"I see." Solas said softly, his body deflating slightly. "That certainly changes things. There is a matter I must research, in what is left of my effects. Should I find anything, I shall make you aware." He was nearly out of the tent with a turn of his heel before he stopped, fingers in the folds of the flaps.
"For what it is worth," he finished softly, "I am very glad you survived, Jaime." He couldn't have seen my nod or the tears that dribbled down to my chin, and it was a relief he didn't. Solas had already comforted me enough. With some effort, I gingerly inhaled and was careful of my tender ribs. Wobbly knees tried to help me stand, only to crumble with my weight. I stayed in the cot, hands gripped along the edges.
There was rustling feet outside of my tent and soon after, Cullen's face appeared between the folds. Solas must have told him I'm awake. He swallowed hard at the sight of me and hesitated before stepping inside. He was quiet as he puttered around for a place to sit, taking Solas' stool near me after a few seconds.
"Hi," I croaked, and then winced at the sound of my voice. "You doing okay?"
"Don't you dare," Cullen muttered weakly, shaking his head. His eyes glanced at me briefly, long enough for the bags under his eyes to be apparent. How long had I been asleep if he had bags under his eyes, worse than normal? I waited as what he wanted to say warred with his mouth and his expression changed several times as he stared at the floor.
"Hey, grouchy." My foot swung out lightly and tapped the toes of his boot. "We made it."
"Yes." Cullen focused on me, his hands clenched over his knees. "We did. Barely, but we did. How — how are you feeling? Adan mentioned your injuries and…" He trailed off with a small tip of his head toward me, his eyes roaming over the blooming bruises that no doubt smothered my skin.
"I… honest? No clue how I feel." I replied gently, my fingers laced together between my knees. "Kinda hard to feel sorry for yourself when you've got the death of a lot of people on your head." He was silent and I didn't press him. His mouth worked hard again, lips pale with pressure.
"Herald, I…" He stuttered to a stop. A exhale shot through him and his hands came up to his hair, running through the curls angrily, his legs launching him onto his feet and he paced slightly in the small confides of the tent.
"I don't know what we would have done," his voice cracked, his back turned to me, "I don't know if we could have done what we have if you hadn't…" He fumbled with his words, hands useless as they fidgeted through the air, grasping at nothing.
"Cullen, just…" My words caught in my throat, unsurprisingly choked by sympathy, watching my Commander fall apart in front of me. There would be no recovery if even one of my central command just collapsed. Though, to see him now, pacing and running his hands through his hair, it wasn't a surprise the amount of pain he was going through.
He, like the others, had lost a great deal of people. His soldiers, his people that he left behind to give me time, the ones lost in the snow, or the others that fell when the first wave hit. I wasn't the only one shouldering the weight of dead bodies. Despite being a soldier himself, death didn't come any easier to him, not in such a massive sweep. Selfishly, I took relief in the fact that I wasn't alone with that responsibility.
"Cullen." I tried again, catching his attention. Once he turned to me, I patted the cot. He hesitated and I patted it harder. "Come here, hardhead, or it's gonna get messy." A strange, strangled gurgle of a laugh tumbled through his lips, a touch of mania to it. He shifted around the stool and came to the cot, tentatively sitting next to me, inches apart.
I leaned into his pauldrons, and frighteningly swift, he slumped against my weight. We sat in the quiet, the gentle sound of bodies walking across the snow outside, hushed voices murmuring to each other. A quick glance at his face and I found the Commander staring at the ground.
His voice was low, "It was madness, after you left. Leliana had — she had collected most of her people and already started the evacuation. Most of the supplies," he gestured lamely toward the crates in my tent, ripped open with medical supplies tossed about.
"... contingency plans." I murmured, gasping slightly with an inhale, my ribs flickering with firey pain.
"Aye. She, I don't think she knew what was coming, but she's always ready." Cullen sighed and ran a hand down his face, pulling at his chin. "The Chargers lived up to their name, they wrangled a few brontos with halters we had of dead horses, got us through the worst of it."
I'll have to check on them, make sure they all made it out. And Bull…
"What happened after — after I left?" I asked, tentatively fearful of the story I would get.
"We managed to go out through this blocked off pathway from the Chantry." Cullen started, holding his hands between his knees, looking up to the ceiling of the tent. "Leliana and I stayed behind as the Chargers took the mass of our people through the overgrown path. Roderick was kept in the lead by that mage." He glanced at the flaps of the tent, as if our mystical friend would appear upon command.
He shook his head, "We… heard, the explosion, the — when the dragon landed, we could feel it. By the time I ran back through the Chanty, your three were already at the door. They said they couldn't… get to you?" His eyes turned to search my face, wondering if I had been truly cut off or willingly abandoned.
"Yeah, the dragon had covered the only way up to the Chantry," I confirmed with a nod, reassuring my Commander. "They couldn't reach me. I'm glad they ran back. I was — I dunno. I don't think I really had any time to be worried."
"I wouldn't be surprised." Cullen's shoulders slumped gently. "There was… we could hear your screams."
"Christ." I swore under my breath, ducking my chin to my neck. "That must have been bad."
He stared at me for a long moment, and quietly replied, "It was. Leliana managed to convince Iron Bull and Blackwall to retreat, but they didn't look like they wanted to. Maker, I didn't want to."
"I don't blame you," I murmured to him, knowing it helped little if at all to hear it, but I had to, "there was nothing you could have done for me. The only reason I wasn't killed instantly was because he wanted this." My Marked palm flashed between us briefly, the glow bright and blinking before I held it again with my other hand.
"He?" Cullen questioned with surprise. "The Elder One, you mean?"
My hand brought my fingers to press into the corners of my eyes. "Let's… hold on that, please. I don't want to tell the story ten different times. Where is everyone?"
"Cassandra and Leliana are taking tally of all who remain." Cullen promptly answered, clearing his throat. "Josephine is with Varric and Adan. They're counting supplies."
"Okay." I breathed out, wincing hard and holding onto my left side, ribs burning. "I need you to roundup a War Table. We got some shit to discuss." He hesitated again, but beside me his body seemed to relax, his shoulders settling straight and his head slightly higher. It felt good to bring someone else a little bit of security.
"Yes, Herald. As soon as possible?" He asked with a heavy glance over my figure.
I winced, "Maybe? I'm surprised we survived the night."
"The night?" Cullen blinked at me, surprised. His face paled, "Herald – it's been nearly a week."
"What?" I almost threw up on his boots, calamity rolling through my stomach. "What do you fucking mean it's been a week? A week since what?"
"The night we fled from Haven, and then two days of searching the area to find you – a half a day's travel here – your healing… what happened to you?" Cullen asked brokenly, eyes wide with pained sympathy. My head shook and with my eyes closed, I raised a hand to shush him.
"Don't – don't worry about it. Not now." My brain was still reeling from the timeline. Serious injury or extreme shock probably kept me alive through my efforts to get here, plus whatever time I spent asleep or healing. My stomach would be starving, soon. My limbs were going to be on fire from pain in a few hours if no one had given me any medicines.
But most importantly, how did I survive all that time alone and unconscious?
"... very well." Cullen relented, though his expression told me it was only just. "I'll see about gathering the council. For now, rest. Solas mentioned he would tell the others, so… be prepared."
"Noted," I said quietly, my gaze still on the ground. The Commander hesitated a little longer before he sighed and walked out of the tent. My eyes closed again and warm tears slipped down my cheeks as one palm came up to catch my forehead as my head fell forward. Gently, I tipped over to my side and rolled back into the cot, silent as my sorrow rocked through my shoulders and chest.
A week.
I could have died in that cavern. Demons or animals could have found me, Venatori or other some such could have snooped far enough through the snow and killed me where I fell. My palms wiped at my cheeks, the bright glow of the Mark flashing with each pass. Would if I could rip this fucking thing out of my hand.
"That would be painful, if you did." Cole's gentle voice floated over to me. My bones jumped under my skin and I looked up, spying the spirit in the far corner of the tent, crouching on the crates. A hard sniff cleared my nose and I attempted to sit up again. Cole's form disappeared from the crate and came to the stool, his hand on my hip.
"No, don't." He held me down, his multi-facet eyes flickering over my face. "Stay still. Pained, panicked, petrified – you're hurting. I can't help this time, but you shouldn't make it worse."
"I thought," another sniff, quieter this time with another wipe to my nose with my wrist, "I thought Solas said you were worried about my Mark?"
"Worried?" Cole shook his head, kneeling into the ground, his arm resting on my side. "Distracted, distressed, disturbed. It's new now, it asks for more but it listens, it only takes what it is given. I don't want to give it anything."
Weakly, I laughed. "Like the cloth disappearing in my palm? What's gonna happen if I hold a weapon?"
"You can control it, now." Cole explained patiently, his eyes dashing to my hand on the pillow. "It's yours, no longer a foe, but not a friend. Not an open door, but a stranger knocking at the door."
"So… It's only going to work now if I ask it to work?" I shifted in the cot, facing him at a third turn. His arm came away from my body, huddling next to his side, but he remained kneeling close, his hat obscuring his face from me.
"Something changed. It's more, now. It knows better. It will still – take from you, but not as much, because now it will take from others, too." His head tilted and he fingered a few rocks in the dirt under my cot, distracted.
"Will it hurt you?" I asked quietly, worried.
He shook his head quickly. "No. Unless you want to hurt me?"
"Never," I breathed, an unfathomable ache twisting in my chest, "I couldn't do that to you after what you've done for me."
A small smile peeked from under the brim of his hat. "Then it won't hurt me. Just when you were sleeping, your memories made it angry, so it was swallowing everything it could."
"My memories… Cole, could you see those?" I reached out and pulled up at his hat lightly, catching his eye.
"Not clearly. They're stolen away, muffled and buried, but not erased. Not all of them." He paused, the one eye I could see considered me and he looked down with a twinge of shame, humming something.
I recognized the song, and chuckled. "My mom used to sing that."
"I like it." Cole answered readily, his hands in the dirt. "I couldn't see her. She's bright. Sunlight, sunbursts, and sunsets. Warm and happy, here and gone and back again."
"Yeah," I replied, fresh tears in my eyes. "Yeah, she is. I miss her."
"You are a lot like her." Cole murmured into the quiet tent, glancing up at me fully. "Not bright. Not like her. But always. In and out, constantly going, running, changing. Clouds against the light, here and gone, bright and dark."
I huffed, pacified somehow. "... thank you, Cole."
"I didn't do anything." Cole answered, and in the next blink he was gone. The silence settled in my tent like falling dust, but there was less of a taste of desperation in it. My body shivered in the loneliness and I hurried to snatch my blanket back. My head fell back into the small straw pillow and in a few breaths, I slipped back into sleep.
-0-
Cottonmouth greeted me when I awoke, my throat about as sandy as my eyes. Hard blinks did nothing to help clear up my vision, so I sat up half-blind and searching with a flailing hand. A hard grip swallowed my fingers and it took me seconds to realize a few of the fingers were missing.
"Bull," I breathed, trying to look up at him. The fires from outside must have been burnt low or the night had gotten deeper, because I could barely see him in the dimness of my tent.
"Heya, Boss." He greeted me, voice heavy either from sleep or consideration. The faint scrape of fabric reached me, the tips of his horns most likely catching the roof of the tent. My other hand reached out as I sat up and found his bicep, the muscle twitching under my palm.
"Fuck, you're real." I swallowed my choked words, head bowing. "Christ, Bull, I'm –"
"If you're about to tell me you're sorry, I'm knocking you back out." He rumbled, amused. "How you feeling, Boss?"
"Like something shit me out, dude." I murmured into the darkness. His arm shook slightly under my hand as he chuckled. The grip he had on my other hand loosened and he used it to shift away slightly before reaching for my legs and helping me adjust into a full, upright sit.
"Well, I didn't get to see you before you were quarantined to the tent, but rumors say the same." He teased, releasing his contact on me. "Guess it's a good thing I waited until I couldn't see it."
"You're an asshole, did you just come here to make fun of me?" Relief flooded me, my desperation easing with each passing sentence. I was floored and adored the man in front of me for treating me like everything was normal, that I hadn't just nearly died, that the world hadn't just gone to shit.
"Absolutely." Bull retaliated, his words practically painting the sight of his grin in my mind's eye. "Can't have you getting all high and mighty now because you survived a shitstorm of insane proportions."
"Right." I snapped, fighting a smile. "Let's not give the Chantry more to denounce me with, is that it?"
"Considering that you faced off with a self-proclaimed god, and then lived to tell about it," I could hear him rub at the stubble of his chin, "yeah, they're probably going to try and exorcise you."
"Does that exist here?" I muttered with a shake of my head. My hand moved from his bicep to the edge of his shoulder, my fingertips pulling at his skin lightly. Obligingly and without much more prompting, he shifted again, closer. The heat of his torso warmed my shins and knees, my palm fully resting in the curve of his shoulder.
My teeth clenched and I gripped it briefly.
"Deep breath." Bull ordered quietly. I followed along and exhaled after a few seconds. "There you go. Do you want to talk about it?"
I hesitated, my hand slipping slightly from his shoulder. "... I don't know. I don't know how."
"That's fair." He murmured. He exhaled softly, legs spreading out, his knee touching my foot on the ground. "From the sounds of it, you almost died. Again. Really need to learn to be a thrill-seeker without the death, Boss."
"They don't really provide safety nets for dragons or demons, you know." I retorted softly, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips. A rumble went up his chest and his index finger flicked at my knee.
"Yes they do," he answered, his words conveying worry and warmth all at once, "it's called The Iron Bull." My heart took a dive through my ribs and into my stomach before it swelled back up under my throat. The grip from his shoulder had slipped back to his bicep and my fingers trembled against his skin.
"I'll remember to take you along next time." I struggled through the words, solace running through my blood, warming my ears and neck down to the small of my back with rolling embers.
"How about you just take me every time?" He teased, poking at my knee again. "Because according to Adan, you look like a broken penis."
"Wh-what the fuck?" I sputtered, laughing, my ribs protesting angrily with fire and brimstone. "Fu-fuck, I hate you – fucker, ow!"
Bull's laugh echoed through the tent, and despite the pain I was in, I was at peace.
-0-
It was morning when Mother Giselle came to find me wiggling from a nightmare in my cot. Blearily I awoke to her gentle prodding, her hands soft against my bare skin as she bathed me and re-dressed my bandages around my chest. Most of the time I spent wincing, breathing gingerly with four broken ribs, binds keeping them in place.
My arms were covered in bruises and lacerations. My left arm looked like something out of a horror movie; webbed and shiny pale skin left behind after burns healed. Nervously, I glanced at the rest of my figure as Mother Giselle prepped easier clothes for me to wear. My torso had a ghastly hematoma that twisted from my hip, up along my back and to my shoulder and neck.
"I feel like a stump," I grumbled quietly to Mother Giselle, "I can't move."
"The body needs to heal, so it does its best to keep you still." Mother Giselle murmured, rubbing a salve into my skin behind my neck and in between my shoulder blades. "We are grateful that despite your bruising, your actual injuries are minor."
"I'm alive, that's what matters." I answered, straightening my back. She glanced at me briefly, humming as she moved away and picked up the spare clothes.
"Alive, yes. But please remember that the mind needs to heal as much as the body." She replied, her hands carefully maneuvering my arms around into the tunic sleeves. The pants were trickier, my knees were rocks and every pull of my muscles burned with hundreds of tiny fire-ants.
"Adan will have your poultices ready soon." Her fingers ran through my hair and combed through the damp strands, braiding them down my back. "He was not sure how much to give you, but now that you are relatively coherent, we will be able to manage your pain better."
"Yeah, I appreciate it." I mumbled thankfully. She helped me to my feet with a strong grip, my knees shaking as I stepped into my boots. Stepping out into the sunlight hurt, the light spearing my vision and with a hiss, I ducked my head and marched with Mother Giselle to the council tent.
Soldiers milled around me, hands full with supplies or tents, blankets and lanterns. All of their faces looked gaunt and weary, drawn pale and hollow by the situation. Morale had shot low in the last few days, it appeared, and I wasn't sure how we were going to bring it back up. I saw none of my companions on the walk to the tent, but that was perhaps for the better.
Josephine's gasp was the first thing to greet me as I entered. My Hydra and Cassandra stood from their chairs and I waved them off once I took a moment to bid farewell to Mother Giselle. Cullen brought up the only chair with a back for me to use and gratefully I fell into it, wincing as my weight shot pain up my spine. That was stupid.
"Herald?" Cassandra prompted.
I swallowed, laughing weakly. "Stupidity. I forget I'm broken."
No one else shared my humor. Glancing at them, it was clear stress had done the worst to them. Cullen and Cassandra shared deep bags under their eyes with strained mouths and heavy chins. Josephine's hair was unkempt, her clothes wrinkled and dull. Leliana seemed the most drained of them all with gaunt cheeks and a lame brow over her eyes; those same eyes were low and lightless.
"Let's start from the top, shall we?" I prompted them back into the world of the living. Whatever depressive spell had captured them was snapped. Cullen cleared his throat and shared a look with Leliana.
"Most of our agents had fallen back, once the first group was lost." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze avoiding mine. "I awaited more information, but the disturbance had gone silent. Then, the drums and battle-bells. Oswald came back, but only him of his group."
"It was enough." Cullen interjected, watching Leliana slip into a dark scowl. Cullen turned to me, wincing as his hands pulled at his thigh plate. "It gave us a bit of time to know the mass that was approaching, but not why, or what demands they were making. We didn't know they were mages until our friend appeared at the gate."
"Did anyone get his name?" I asked my group, glancing between them.
Josephine nodded, "Yes, Herald. Altus Dorian Pavus, of House Pavus in Qarinus, Tevinter Imperium."
"You're shitting me," I breathed in surprised, "Tevinter? A legit Tevinter mage? What the fuck is he doing out here?"
"Hmph," Josephine's nose turned up a bit, "he didn't say, only stated he wanted to speak to you directly when the chance arose."
"Great." I exhaled, rubbing at my knee out of nervousness. A Vint? What the hell? "I'll see about getting to chat him up later, but right now, he's on the back of the stove. Keep an eye on him, will you?"
"Noted," Cullen and Cassandra answered simultaneously. Leliana nodded quietly.
"Next?" I asked, my gaze on Cullen to continue.
"Well, from the point of their arrival to you leaving the Chantry for the diversion, we know." Cullen fidgeted again with his armor, hands tight on the edges of the plate. "You left, Roderick led us out behind the Chantry to the path he mentioned. Leliana was already there."
"Luck, unfortunately." Leliana murmured sourly, arms tight across her chest. "We had kept the bulk of our supplies down in the dungeons of the Chantry for the celebration, to keep them safe. In the end, it served us better, as we were able to get them out quickly."
"Cullen and I assisted with assuring our population managed to escape, but not all of them did." Cassandra interrupted heatedly with raised hackles. She growled, her hands balling into fists over her thighs. "A good portion of our people stayed behind in the first part of the battle."
"Civilians," Josephine lamented quietly, "They were the first to take up arms, and of course… the first to fall." A headache was forming behind my eyes and my right hand came up to pinch the bridge of my nose quickly, hoping to avoid a full migraine.
"Do we know who and how many?" I murmured behind my hand.
"Not yet." Leliana and Cullen answered, both stiff and uncomfortable.
Cullen sighed. "We'll have those names for you once we manage to count heads. As it is, we're doing our best just to stay alive out here."
"I got ya." I soothed him with a small wave of the same hand that came to my nose. My ribs protested and I inhaled sharply at the pain. My voice tightened briefly, "So then all there is left is my end of the story?"
"If you wouldn't mind." Cassandra graced me with a worried frown.
"Well, to start, someone's gonna need to talk to Varric." I gave Leliana a pointed look for the brief second she made eye contact with me. "Because he's got the other half of the story. Abridged version; Corypheus is The Elder One, old magister from ancient Tevinter."
The room went colder than the snow outside and it was tempting to open the flap and allow some semblance of warmth to seep through. Cullen and Leliana's eyes had gone deathly dark and Cassandra was vibrating next to me. Josephine held her composure, but her skin had paled around her mouth.
"Odd," Cassandra growled, "that we would have a Tevinter magister already in our company."
"Well now," I held a hand out to stop her, "let's not jump to conclusions just yet. All the facts first, okay?"
"Agreed." Leliana seconded. "Continue, Herald."
I raised my Marked hand, "He's after this thing. Apparently it's actually a magical artifact that he was preparing for years to use as a gateway into the Fade. Somehow, I ended up getting it stuck in my palm." Cassandra's shoulders stiffened just beyond my peripheral vision and I winced; ah, right. Maker sent, probably not.
"I don't imagine he explained how it got there or how it works?" Cullen replied ruefully.
"Not on my life." I snorted, closing my fingers around the Mark, letting the light flicker through my fingertips. "Solas says he might have some idea, but he's out on the count for that one."
"Corypheus failed to reclaim this artifact, as your hand still possesses its power and you are alive." Leliana deduced, gesturing to my hand with a tip of her chin.
"It's ruined, according to him, yeah. Somehow its connection to me spoiled it, but I got nothing to compare — wait." I hesitated, my memories flashing through my mind like jumbled puzzle pieces. "I'm forgetting — he had something similar, I think, but he was holding it, in his hand. It must have been a pair..."
"A similar object?" Leliana questioned, leaning forward in her seat. "How could you know?"
"He was using it to open my hand to try and get the Anchor out." I muttered darkly. My right thumb pressed into the Mark of my hand and rubbed against the chasm roughly, attempting to relieve an itch. "Round, about the size of my head, with grooves all over the surface. It looked glossy, but I wouldn't bet on it being glass."
"Hmm." Leliana tapped her chin. "I'll have to talk to Solas about this, see what speculations he has."
"Beyond that," Cullen redirected us, a hard gaze pinned on me, "how did you survive the avalanche? We could see it from the mountainside, it had consumed everything."
I sighed and rubbed at my forehead. "I almost didn't. When the avalanche started, I was already running. I tripped and fell into a cave system under Haven, I think."
"The mines." Josephine nodded with a pained smile. "Yes, we had abandoned them because they were hazardous after a few collapses."
"I saw those. I —" How much was I going to tell them? If I wasn't willing to tell Bull, or Solas, I couldn't see myself telling the room at large about my experience in the cold cave, alone and in a desperate depression. I swallowed, "... From what I knew, I had only been down there a night, I was unconscious from the fall."
Cullen and Josephine winced, but everyone's gaze followed the length of my bruises over my face and neck, hidden away into the mouth of my tunic. My shoulders shifted, a fidget working its way up from my stomach at the stares. My arms crossed over my chest, one hand holding onto the opposing elbow.
"So, when I came to, I — fixed myself up and walked out of the cave. This came back to life." I raised my hand, the Mark clear and bright in the dimness of the tent. "I got outside into the storm and then just walked."
"Walked?" Cassandra took a quick look at me, bewildered. "But, we had a storm sometime during that week!"
"I know." I deadpanned with a glance at her. "It's a miracle I didn't get frostbite."
"Why didn't you stay in the caves until it was over?" Cullen asked, just as confused.
"With demons?" I replied, my brow raised high into my hairline. "There were demons there, because of this thing on my hand. I couldn't wait there with no weapon. Frostbite seemed easier." This was not the conversation I wanted to have, I didn't want to talk about the nightmare of that whole experience, or the fucked up emotions that came from it.
I pushed on, "In any case, I got out, walked my way here, and then you found me. End of story." My group eyed with me with varying levels of disbelief and suspicion, but the title of Herald was still firmly on my head, so the questions that rolled behind their eyes remained silent.
"Quite a tale." Cassandra broke the silence with clipped words, turning away from me. "But we are still in the same position as before, with an unknown enemy, with his whereabouts just as unclear."
"He's controlling that dragon." I added, leaning back in my seat. "He probably gets around that way. We know he's a mage, at least, but we're going to need to follow up with Varric."
"We needed Hawke." Cassandra growled, sidelining my input, but it seemed like her sharp words were directed to Leliana. "Had he been here as we originally planned, we'd have a better understanding of this creature."
Leliana frowned, twitching a bit with her chin. "There is no guarantee that Hawke would know this Corypheus better than Jaime would. By the sounds of it, Varric is our best lead."
"He won't answer us truthfully." Cassandra retaliated with heat, straightening in her chair. The three of us that remained apart from the conversation, leaned away, surprised by the display. "Our last attempt to find the Champion brought us to nothing, because that dwarf is so intent on protecting the man than seeing the greater issue!"
"Cassandra," Leliana nailed her with a hard stare, "now is not the time. We'll —" Cassandra stood from her seat and twisted around me to storm out of the tent. My butt nearly bounced from my chair at her swift departure. Confused, I turned to my remaining Heads.
"I will handle it," Leliana dismissed my confusion, "then, from this point forward, I would deduce that our priorities are shelter, food, and then people."
"Yes." I answered, nodding with uncertainty. "Let me know if anything comes up, or if we can reach out to the Hinterlands or Orlais for a place to stay."
"I shall inform you at once, Herald." Josephine answered quietly, her hands twitching to make notes, but absent her normal parchment and quill.
I stood with another nod, "See that you do. I'm going to head out and make the rounds before I pass out again."
"Let us know if you require anything, Herald." Cullen called after me, his voice lost within the tent as I exited into the snow. A heavy sigh escaped me, my back was on fire and my chest down to my hips cramped from pain. My eyes closed tightly and with another exhale, I trudged out into the snow.
