Note: Sorry this took some time. It was actually done last month but I did an overhaul on the story itself. Which reminds me...
****THIS IS A REPOST**** The Relic has undergone a character change involving Khrys, Fenris, and Michel. Several prior chapters have been updated starting with Chapter 2, most of it stays the same but the pairing between Khrys and Michel. The Tags have been updated also to reflect the romance change. My apologies for the mid story change I just wasn't feeling Khrys and Fenris no matter how hard I tried.
Dragon Age
"The Relic"
Chapter Seventeen: Bree
Skyhold seemed strange without Dorian haunting it; once in a while he left for Tevinter and was gone for a few months but this was the first time Khrys was truly worried about him.
Spring time in Orlais was beautiful, lush green fields as far as the eye could see, leafing trees, blooming wildflowers…Bree smiled to herself, she could get used to Orlais. Skye enjoyed munching on the wildflowers and grass and bushes that were tall enough to snack on as she passed.
Jean leaned against the 100 year old oak tree that he'd loved since he was a kid. Mau grazed lazily 10 feet away with his stablemates Muir and Shine, he came to a whistle so tying him was never an issue. He didn't like taking guards with him where ever he went, he was a highly trained Chevalier but given that he was heir to the Empire he took his best friend and his squire. Etienne was a Chevalier the same age as he, they'd trained together and Jean trusted him to keep his mouth shut about gossip and Phillippe never repeated anything Jean said or did.
Etienne was the third son of the Duke of Jader; he'd never go anywhere since his parents had the heir and the spare so he threw himself into the Chevaliers with enthusiasm. The dark haired Chevalier pulled a weed stem apart seeming bored with waiting. When Jean asked him to come along he had no problem he just wasn't sure he saw the point. He looked around the giant oak to make sure Mau, Muir, and Shine were behaving like the disciplined mounts they were.
"Is she worth this?" he asked and Jean glanced to him. "I mean the meeting under an oak tree business; can you just invite her to Halamshiral or Val Royeaux and woo her like the rest?"
Jean snorted; Etienne was the typical Orlesian noble and had a revolving door of trysts much to his father's chagrin. "Because she's not like the court ladies you and I are used to, she has an independent spirit and would prefer spending meaningful time under an oak tree to that of the palace court," Jean answered. "And yes, she is worth every moment, Etienne."
Etienne shrugged, it wasn't his place to judge him but this was the first time Jean went out of his way to impress a girl.
Jean was right where his letter said he would be, the Prince went nowhere without armor on but it wasn't the full Chevalier armor that he wore during the tournament. This armor was the family armor, made of silverite with gold filigree the de Chalons family crest on a field of purple. His half mask was different from the ones she'd seen already and it revealed more of his face to her since it didn't drop down past his nose. Its dark color and smaller size made him look more like a bandit than anything else but it was less extravagant than others she had seen. He wore the blue scarf tied to his right arm like he had at the tournament and she felt her stomach flutter. An Orlesian Prince was wearing her favor.
He had two others with him, the squire she recognized from the tournament and other man with black hair in full armor but masked. Another Chevalier she guessed.
Jean smiled seeing Bree not in a gown; of course she was in her riding leathers, as pretty as she was in a gown he found he preferred her in riding leathers. There was something about her that he couldn't get enough of. She traveled with two guards, a woman on a grey Forder was obviously a Templar and did nothing to hide it; he appreciated the pride of the old Order. And another man on lighter built bay, his armor was ornate but carried no symbols or crests. Everyone was armed, including Bree; her staff rested comfortably in its place hanging off of the mare she rode. He could hear Etienne now with the realization that she was a mage but the Chevalier remained silent only glancing to him once before keeping his eyes on the three that approached.
Jean and Etienne did the same thing without speaking; they sized them up in seconds, looking for dangers. The relaxed body language was hard to miss and indicated that they posed no threat but Etienne kept his guard, after all that was why he was there. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to his Emperor, still the leader of the Chevaliers after all these years, that he let his guard down and something happened to the Prince.
"Jean," Bree greeted with a beaming smile.
His mask did nothing to hide the fact that Jean actually blushed at her radiant smile and stepped toward her offering to help her from the saddle. Bree didn't accept the offer and dismounted on her own effortlessly. "My Lady." He smiled back bowing to her. "I am pleased you made it."
She giggled. "Of course I did, you asked me to," she smiled sweetly.
Jean swallowed, her smile could charm a demon but he gathered himself and looked to his squire. "Philippe, see to the Lady's horse and to that of her companions," he ordered as the Templar and the Soldier dismounted. The Templar was wary but the other was relaxed, though looked ready for anything.
"Ser Ramelle, Highness," the Templar introduced bowing deeply to him, she was Orlesian and he nodded to her respectfully.
"Cremisius Aclassi, Highness, Bull's Chargers." The other introduced bowing slightly, the Tevinter accent threw Jean off but he was a mercenary and the relaxed body language now made sense. He may have looked relaxed but the man was ready for anything. "We won't be far if you need us, Bree," he said specifically to Bree.
Jean wasn't insulted, he would have insisted guards be present to protect her anyway. "Come, ma bichette," he beckoned and they walked toward the giant oak. "Allow me to introduce my good friend Lord Etienne, third son of the Duke of Jader."
Etienne's bow was respectful but he only smiled with a simple greeting. "My Lady," his tone was polite but he was thinking exactly what Jean thought he would. She was a mage, a beautiful one, but still a mage…the Empire would turn inside out.
The oak grove was a picturesque setting; the old trees shaded a small meadow with a brook that ran east to west. The oldest tree was the one Jean had been standing under but the rest were almost as old, and the grove itself appeared to be visited often. Small trails clearly marked the path from the grandfather tree to the meadow.
For someone who saw primarily snow in her day to day, the lush green grove splattered with pockets of colorful wildflowers was a welcome change. It was like looking at a painting and she suspected that someone must have tried to capture this scene at least once.
"What do you think of Orlais, ma bichette?" he asked, this wasn't her first trip to his country and he knew that but her opinion of his home meant a lot to him.
"It's beautiful," she replied as she turned around to face him. "How did you know about this place? An oak grove is hardly on the beaten path."
Jean chuckled with a shrug, Verchiel was his home but this grove was his favorite place in his Empire. "That old oak has been here since before I was born, Etienne and I used to climb it when we were kids."
Bree cocked her head. "I thought you said you were from Verchiel?" It felt good to be able to talk to him without worry about her father cropping up to bark at them. She was grateful that her mother had a more open mind about her blossoming relationship than her father did.
Jean perched on a boulder and watched her; she was quite beautiful and best of all intelligent. "I am. Verchiel is the de Chalons family home. Our fathers would hold hunts in this area, and still do, so Etienne and I would come out here, climb the trees, race through the groves, scare off all the game." He paused as he thought of home, he hated Val Royeaux and would rather rule from Verchiel, Halamshiral was a little better and would probably choose that as his main palace once he ascended but hopefully that was far from this day.
"Tell me of it."
He was all too happy to, he loved Verchiel. It was a quiet little town and he appreciated that it was far from the chaos that was Val Royeaux, in that he and his father were alike; they were warriors, men of action, when they weren't in a war they preferred peace and quiet. "It's quiet. It has its place in the Great Game but I like it better. I hate Val Royeaux…it's too crowded," he said. "I grew up there, well, mostly, my moth…" he paused momentarily, "my mother's buried there."
Jean never spoke of his mother and Bree found that curious. "You never talk of her."
There was a reason for that, he never got a chance too, and his father never really spoke of her. "I never knew her. She died in childbirth, my father doesn't speak of her much either but I know he loved her."
"I'm sorry, Jean."
Jean didn't want the pity, that's not why he told her. "No apology necessary, ma bichette, I know of your family it is only fair that I return it in kind," he said and remained perched as he studied her. "Speaking of…should I be expecting your father to come out and roast me in a vat of arcane fire?"
Bree laughed. "No," she continued to chuckle. "No, he doesn't know I'm here. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Jean grinned; she was a rebel not afraid to defy her father. "Well, it might hurt me when he figures it out."
She chuckled and moved toward the tall Orlesian still casually perched on the boulder. "I think you might survive," she smiled and he swallowed at her proximity, even leaned back on the rock he was still significantly taller than she. He seized the opportunity and kissed her, gently though, not meaning to offend or overstep. He sensed that he was more experienced than she was and placed his right hand her cheek. Her heart raced, she'd never been kissed before and now she was being kissed by an Orlesian Prince. Jean followed the kiss to the end and pulled away. He covered his nerves with confidence but it varied momentarily. "I would like to court you, My Lady Bree."
Bree giggled nervously and like a giddy little girl, Jean was the picture of Orlesian propriety, he actually declared his intentions and practically asked her permission. She blushed wildly and Jean must have seen it since he chuckled. "I'd like that," she managed trying not to sound too foolish and suddenly couldn't think of what to say next. Instead she kissed him, this time initiated by her; he didn't pull away and returned the kiss.
A few hours had passed and Etienne paced, it was boredom. Mau and Muir devoured as much grass as they could and pinned ears at each other when the other's personal space was invaded. Shine, Phillippe's horse, seemed asleep on her feet. Etienne grumbled to himself as he heard Muir squeal at his roan counterpart and the murky bay turned his rump to the Prince's horse in warning. It was after midday and he understood his friend, who happened to be the Prince, wanting to get to know someone before asking to court her but this seemed a bit extreme. For Jean to actually like the person his father threw at him was a shot in the dark that just happened to hit the bullseye.
He scoffed quietly at his own aversion to marriage; he didn't want to get married no matter how much daddy dearest pushed him which is why he threw himself into the Chevaliers as he did. If he was there and busy there was less of a chance his parents would trap him with some unlucky noble daughter.
"Something wrong?" The Tevinter mercenary asked him and Etienne looked almost affronted to the man even speaking to him. He had a nasty habit of looking down his nose to people, an Orlesian flaw, but he stifled it.
"No," he responded.
Krem snorted shaking his head as the Orlesian didn't look at him. They could see Bree and Jean a good distance away; he was still perched on the boulder and seemed to be laughing with her. "The Lady seems quite taken with your master."
Etienne shot him a look, most of its ire hidden behind the mask. He was a Chevalier not a servant or slave, Jean wasn't his master…he was his sovereign, a Chevalier, and therefore his brother. "He's not my master, Mercenary; he's my brother and my Prince," he snapped rudely.
Krem wasn't offended, he'd spent years in Orlais and knew that they were very touchy about how things were worded. Etienne was clearly a Chevalier, the trademark yellow feather notwithstanding, and he respected his devotion to his Lord.
Etienne sighed, he shouldn't have snapped like that, Chevalier's were supposed to be professional…something they needed to be reminded of occasionally. "But you are correct," he added after a moment of hearing nothing but the strong breeze move the old oak's limbs. "I've never seen him go through this much effort for a girl. Your lady must be quite special."
Krem allowed a nod with a smile. "That she is, Ser Etienne."
Bree thought of her father for a moment as she walked with her right arm linked around Jean's left elbow. He would kill her if he knew she was here but in all honesty she knew that he might actually like him if he looked beyond the fact that he was an Orlesian Chevalier. Jean was a gentleman, and he didn't act like a Prince he seemed to want to act like someone below his station, average.
She looked up at the tall man she was walking with; he had a handsome face, even with some of it covered. He had a strong jaw and blue eyes, and unlike most Orlesian nobles she'd met, he was clean shaven. Though he did have a day or two's worth of facial hair growth.
"You're looking at me again," he said and she looked away sharply with an embarrassed smile.
"I can't help it," she grinned, "you're just so handsome."
Jean blushed with a smile he couldn't stop at the flattery, he couldn't think of anything to say in return that didn't sound terrible and sickly sappy in his head. She laughed at his speechlessness and he only blushed deeper. His brain screamed for him to say something and he stopped walking and turned to face her. "I would like you to have this."
Bree's expression was curious as he pulled a flat gold and green ring off the small finger of his left hand. She took it and studied it. "It's beautiful. What is it?"
"My sigil," he replied as she ran her fingers over the engraving, the rearing lion she recognized as de Chalons but the rearing horse was unique to Jean, the symbol of the Chevaliers. He wore his father's coat of arms but he was entitled to his own and it was subtly different.
"It's very beautiful, Jean, but does this mean we're engaged?" she asked with a chuckle, she wasn't trying to back him into a corner and her humor was evident.
Jean laughed softly in return. "No, bichette, you gave me this and I wear it with pride," he explained and put a light hand on the blue fabric tied around his upper right arm. "This is my gift to you to wear carefully so your father doesn't kill me."
Bree laughed, Jean wasn't like any Orlesian she'd ever met, not even Michel who helped raise her. He certainly wasn't as she pictured a stuffy royal would be. "What's this, the Prince of Orlais afraid of a mage?" she teased and Jean chuckled.
"That mage is a Tevinter magister, bichette, I'm no fool," he said and she tried the ring on her right thumb…it barely fit, Maker his hands were big. She'd figure out how to wear it so she wouldn't lose it but for now she held it tightly on her thumb. She moved to continue walking but he spoke up. "And Bree…when I propose…I'll give something far greater than that."
Bree's cheeks burned hot as she blushed and felt giddy. He said when not if.
Jean walked with her and he looked at the sky, he didn't want her traveling after the sun went down, he wanted to spend much more time with her but propriety dictated that he limit it for now. He would appease her father to a point but there was no need to burn bridges by overstepping too early. "Philippe," Jean called, his accent which was light but present seemed to thicken when he raised his voice to his squire, "ready the lady's horse."
"Eager to be rid of me, Highness?" she asked and he snorted.
"Don't want you on the road when the sun goes down, it's a long way back to Skyhold and it would be improper of me to put you at risk for my own selfish reasons," he replied with a smile, he enjoyed it when she teased him. Bree was beautiful and funny, she teased him and flirted, and she carried herself well and had been trained by Michel how to fight…she was perfect.
A hooded figure seemed to appear from nowhere right in their midst, almost like magic. Bree didn't see him until he was near Krem. "Lady Gabriella," he began and Krem's head snapped around at the voice he hadn't heard in over a decade. It had been a long time but he'd never forget that Elf.
"Solas," Krem breathed, his shock was quickly overtaken by the situation. There was no way this was a good thing, Solas didn't just show up to say 'hi'. He always had a purpose. The last time he'd been seen was in Amaranthine and it cost the Wardens one of the greatest men their order had ever seen.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The green magic of the fade was evident and she saw the stone fist hit Etienne square in the chest with enough force to knock him back a good distance. Etienne sprawled back and didn't move after he came to a stop. Bree had the chance to block the magic aimed at Jean with the Aegis and it bounced back to Solas.
Krem was able to take a swing at Solas and nearly got him, Bree was shocked as she saw the Elf turn him to stone right before her eyes. "No!" a woman screamed and it took Bree a few moments to realize that she was the one who screamed. She reacted and dispelled his magic but not quick enough to save Philippe from being killed instantly by a deafening crack of lightening. His next spell evaporated giving Ramelle a shot at him. Bree felt the tingle of the Templar's Ward and Jean joined the fight.
Solas was no swordsman but he was no slouch at fighting, he knew tricks they had never even thought of and he got close enough to Ramelle to kill her with the bladed gauntlet. His mana regenerated quicker than Ramelle expected and it cost her life.
The lingering effects of the ward from the Templar angered him but he had this group pretty well beat. Bree's Aegis was a bit of a surprise and the lightening hit him due to its unique feature. Khrys must have taught her how to use it but instead of being this huge bubble that could repel a dragon's attack it was more like a personal shield. It was a nifty little talent. He got irritated and swung his staff with as much force as he could cracking it across Jean's right temple knocking the Prince out cold.
Bree was the last man standing but she suspected that was by design. She got a bad feeling about it. Solas, the man everyone wanted had just killed this party to get to her. She readied herself for an attack but knew she was woefully outclassed. Solas allowed a slight smile at the defiant girl before him. She raised the Aegis as she saw him start to cast and her entire world went black.
Jean came back to the world of the living slowly, everything was muffled like he was hearing under water and when he opened his eyes the vision was blurry. It sent a searing throb from his right temple to his left and when he moved the throb worsened. He crawled to his knees and his entire head hurt so much he vomited. There was pain around his right eye and he realized that his mask was broken; the Elf hit him so hard it broke the right side of his mask driving pieces of it into his skin. He removed some of the shards and wiped some the blood from his eyes. The sun had moved, lower in the sky, he estimated it was three maybe four in the afternoon and guessed he'd been coconscious for nearly an hour.
He staggered to his feet and groaned, his head hurt, badly but he took stock of what was around him. The mercenary, Krem had been turned to stone…he remembered seeing that, the Templar was dead from a wound to her neck, and his eyes fell to Philippe's unmoving body. He ran to him, or rather stumbled to him, but the lad was dead, his eyes were wide and full of fear and he smelled like burned flesh. 'The poor kid'. Jean ran his hand over his eyes to close them and crossed his hands over his chest to let the kid rest.
He didn't see Etienne while he counted the horses, they were all there, even Skye but he didn't see Bree anywhere. "Bree?" he called but Muir jumped at his loud shout. When the murky bay moved he saw Etienne. Jean's eyes went wide and a screaming prayer went through his head, the black haired Chevalier was his best friend, a brother even.
"Etienne!" Jean called as he forced himself into a sprint. His head throbbed and he felt like vomiting but he forced it to the back of his mind. Etienne was flat on his back and not moving. "Etienne!" he called again and crashed to his knees with a pained grunt, his fellow Chevalier wasn't moving but Jean felt breath on his palm. He was alive and Jean felt a wave of relief. Etienne's breastplate was caved in like a Giant punched the silverite metal. Jean pulled his gloves off and started to unbuckle the breastplate, it took a moment before it released and Jean cast it aside. "Etienne, no time for sleeping, wake up."
As if on cue Etienne gasped like he'd been strangled then coughed clutching his chest, he felt like he'd been kicked in the chest by his horse. "Oww," he groaned and shallowed his breaths, breathing deeply hurt too much.
"Easy. Easy," Jean coached as the pain radiated all through Etienne's chest.
Jean's head throbbed again and his vision swam. Etienne's head cleared even though his chest hadn't. "The mage?" he questioned with a sense of urgency, the last thing he remembered was being hit in the chest by a conjured green boulder.
Jean took a moment to sit comfortably on the ground, he felt like he was going to vomit. "Gone."
To Etienne's credit he sat up, it was ugly but he sat up. "Lady Bree?"
Jean's stomach turned but kept it in check. "Gone," he said and squeezed his eyes shut. "Philippe, the Templar, and the Charger all dead."
"Who was that guy?" he asked and forced himself to his feet, for a moment both of them held each other up and Etienne tried to remember how to breathe and Jean tried not to fall down from his spinning head. What a pair these two Orlesian Chevaliers made.
A throbbing head and occasional spinning vision didn't stop Jean from picking up the trail. He couldn't get his head around it; the hooded mage came out of nowhere and decimated them. They lost the trail after an hour of heading north, generally.
Jean's head spun as it throbbed from right to left and he lost his stomach for the second time since the attack. He wretched over the right ride of Mau as Etienne appeared next to him.
"You don't look so good," Etienne commented. "In fact you look like shit, Highness."
Jean grumbled trying to spit the taste out and gave his fellow Chevalier a stern look. "And you're such a thing of beauty?"
Etienne snorted, the noble ladies of court would agree that he was by far the most handsome of the Chevaliers, right now…though probably not. "Well, normally I am, but taking a magical boulder to the chest really takes it out of you," he retorted and Jean took a moment to collect himself.
"We've lost the trail…he's a mage…if he used magic to cover it we'll never find him," Jean said and tried to soothe his pained head with a deep breath of fresh air…it didn't work, if anything he felt worse. "Turn north to Jader, raise an alarm," he paused and Etienne seized the opportunity to make his displeasure known.
"Where are you going?" Jean let the interruption slide given their physical states.
"I'm going to Skyhold." He finished. "The Inquisition needs to know."
"I'm not letting you go alone."
Jean was easy going as far as nobles came; he wasn't snobby, didn't usually sneer, and enjoyed it when people spoke their minds. Right now, however, Jean wasn't in the mood for Etienne's stubbornness. " 'Let me'?" he growled and Etienne recognized his error, Jean had been his friend since the Academie but he was still the heir to the Empire.
He ducked his head at the tone, a noticeable apology for overstepping his bounds. "My apologies, Highness, my only concern is your safety."
Jean nodded, appreciative for his friend's concern. "I understand," he replied quietly. "Go to Jader, 10 minutes after you get there I want every soldier along the coast spreading inland until all of Orlais is looking for Bree."
Etienne didn't argue, he saw it then, he knew in that moment that Bree was more than a passing fancy for him…his father had been parading ladies in front of him for marriage since he was 15 but Jean wasn't interested in the frilly ladies. It took time before Gaspard finally realized that Jean dallied with girls who worked, hunted, rode, or trained in combat, but when he did the frilly ladies stopped and he was presented with Bree. Etienne saw it, he was in love. "My word on it, Highness, we'll find her."
Jean nodded as Etienne spurred Muir into a canter, north to Jader, Etienne was going home. Jean pressed his right leg into Mau and the stallion spun to the right, south to Skyhold.
Mau was considered to be an unimpressive mount, he wasn't flashy or perfect, he bit, he kicked, and he had a somewhat undesirable conformation, but the horse had determination like no other. In battle he was vicious and did anything Jean asked him to. Tired and lathered with sweat the horse showed impressive stamina and did as commanded. He'd never been so proud of his warhorse…he'd never own a better one. Jean felt worse as time went on, his head still hurt, his vision was blurry, and he knew that vomiting as many times as he had was a bad thing.
He encountered an Inquisition outpost and told them what happened before pressing on to Skyhold. He'd lost track of time but he was sure he must have slept while riding since the sun was now in an impossibly different position than he remembered. He praised his horse for staying on course, the well-traveled road to Skyhold.
By the time he reached Skyhold he didn't know how long he'd been riding, he hadn't stopped and was frankly astonished he hadn't fallen off and passed out. He was in a fog and barely registered the gate guards calling for his identification. He was unmasked and clearly injured but he shook the fatigue and cloudiness from his mind and focused. "I am Prince Jean-Fredric of Orlais and I must speak with the Inquisitor."
The guards looked at each other and then back to him, Jean felt his head spin as his vertigo was enhanced by the way Skyhold was situated. He tried willing himself to stay in the saddle and remain conscious but he couldn't put it off anymore, his injury was severe. He hit the stone bridge hard sending shooting pain through his head again.
"Fetch the Inquisitor! And a healer!" he heard one of the guards yell before his world faded to black.
Jean awoke once again to blurry vision and a monumental headache, there was someone sitting on the edge of his bed and his vision cleared enough to see the man he recognized as an Inquisition agent, a young man with shaggy brown hair. Had he made it to the Inquisition? White magic emanated from his left hand and came closer to his face. Jean was disoriented, he wasn't sure that he actually made it to Skyhold or if that was a delusion, and he shied from it trying to slide away from the potential danger.
"Easy. Easy, Prince," the mage said softly, "you're safe. Go back to sleep while I heal you."
Jean's eyes grew heavy as his body tingled with the sensation of Creation magic, it flooded his body and he drifted off to a content slumber. His last thoughts were of Bree, her beautiful smile, loose locks of black hair framing her sweet face…she was taken from him…he had to find her.
Voices brought Jean from his dreamless state. "Malcolm, will he be alright?" he heard a woman ask, he knew that voice to be the Inquisitor.
"He had a massive head injury. It took a lot to heal him…I don't think he realizes how close he came to meeting the Maker." That was the Healer, Malcolm, Khrys called him, he remembered Bree talking about him in letters, her friend, a man she called a brother. Bree flooded his mind, first happy memories then the bad ones. The ones that landed him in his current state, she'd been taken. He stirred like he'd been startled and groaned, healed or not the headache remained.
At least his vision was now clear and his stomach wasn't sour, he managed to sit on the edge of the bed and collect himself as feet rushed toward him. "Highness," Khrys began as he felt Creation magic flare into his body, he tingled again, "are you alright? Where's Bree?"
Jean looked up to see Malcolm, Michel, and Khrys; the magic dissipated from Malcolm as he nodded to Khrys. "Your headache will remain for a time but you should be fine." The healer told him and Jean looked at Khrys and stood.
"The Lady Bree has been taken," he told her and saw Khrys pale then look over to Ser Michel, he served the Inquisition but he was still a Chevalier. "At our meeting site we were attacked by a mage, my squire, and Lady Bree's guards were killed," Jean explained, there was no time for formalities, no time for pleasantries, he needed to be quick and efficient and was speaking to the Chevalier rather than to Khrys. "My guard and I were knocked unconscious; when we came to she was gone with a trail that led north. We followed it for a time until we lost it completely but the only thing in that direction of note is Jader and surrounding hamlets. I sent my guard to Jader to raise and alarm and begin a search."
Michel took the synopsis in like a sponge quickly figuring out what needed to be done next. They needed to send word to Jader, Val Royeaux, Cumberland, and Kirkwall to be on the lookout for Lady Bree if her kidnapper intended to take her across the Sea. She was like a daughter to him and he felt the panic of her being missing but his training took over and kept him in check. He looked at Malcolm whose expression didn't betray the concern he knew he felt. "Fetch Cullen and Charter," he ordered gently and Malcolm left without a word. Michel looked the Prince up and down. Malcolm had done a good job of healing his head injury and cleaned the dried blood off his face but the Prince looked disheveled. "You made it from there to Skyhold in less than three days, Highness, well done."
Jean hadn't realized it had been that long, the odd placement of the sun now made a bit more sense however. "The credit goes to my horse, Ser Michel." If he'd had any other mount he probably would have never made it here so swiftly.
Michel nodded, the bond between a Chevalier and his horse was strange to the outside observer but this was precisely the reason he wept for the loss of his horse all those years ago. Mau got his injured rider where he needed to be. "He's being cared for in the stable, Highness."
Khrys had stopped listening at 'attacked by a mage' and her world went blank. Her stomach dropped and she screamed on the inside. He didn't say there were many he just said 'a mage' and she was almost certain of who it was. "What did he look like?" she asked silencing the Orlesians.
Jean's brow furrowed an odd feeling without the mask, he felt different without his mask and as odd as it sounded he felt naked. He'd never actually liked it but now that it was broken under the oak tree it felt different somehow. "An Elf, bald, with a command of magic I have never seen. The mercenary, Krem, called him Solas. He defeated the Templar easily and turned the mercenary to stone."
Khrys felt the strength in her legs leave her and she sank to the ground with an emotional cry. Solas. How could he do this to her? Why would he do this to her? Michel knelt down next to her for comfort and Jean looked down with his brow still furrowed. "Why would he do this?" Khrys asked in a heart wrenching tone, her former lover just reached a new all-time low. Murdering Nathaniel was one thing, kidnapping Bree was another, what could Solas possible want from her?
"That was him wasn't it?" Jean asked putting it all together quickly. "The one called Fen'Harel."
Khrys didn't hear him, her mind was racing with all the possible reasons for Solas to take her daughter but Michel looked up at the unmasked Prince and nodded.
Skyhold had mobilized, Ravens had come and gone; Etienne had done what he was ordered to and pretty much all of Orlais was on the search. He'd even received a message from his father in Val Royeaux. He didn't like that, he liked that his father was providing help but he'd failed…he'd failed miserably.
Jean was angry, with himself mostly, he let an innocent person be abducted from his care. Not only that, he was certain that he loved her. How did this happen? How could he let her be taken from him? He held her favor, the blue scarf she'd given him, in his hands cursing himself for his failure. He was a Chevalier, a Prince, groomed for war and battle since childhood and he let someone just walk in and take someone he cared for.
"Highness," a voice said from behind him. He balled the scarf up and turned to see Michel, his failure welled further. Michel was like a father to Bree so he couldn't meet his eyes. "I brought you this."
Jean noticed the mask being offered, Michel didn't wear one anymore but he understood that no matter how much the mask could be detested by the wearer going without it after growing up with it was uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said and took the mask putting it on quickly. It was habit, he didn't like them necessarily, but it was like second nature to him. Dorian wasn't present, he apparently was in Tevinter, Michel turned to leave the Prince in silence but he couldn't let him. "Ser Michel,"
The blonde Chevalier paused and turned to face him. "Highness?"
He owed him an apology along with Dorian and Khrys. He was a protector by nature and failed miserably at protecting the woman he was intending to court. "I'm sorry," he said and Michel cocked his head at the young Prince. Orlesians, especially Orlesian nobles, didn't apologize. "I should have protected her."
The Prince sounded embarrassed and, above all, ashamed. He didn't blame him, when it came to Solas he was tough to defend against. "Highness…there's no need to apologize. Solas walked into a castle full of Wardens, got what he wanted, killed their best Warden, almost killed the Queen, and walked back out again." Michel's attempt to make him feel better fell flat. Jean didn't take failure lightly; he was just like his father in that regard. The kid blamed himself and that wasn't fair. "Highness,"
"Please call me Jean," he replied and leaned forward on the railing still gripping the blue scarf.
Michel almost cringed at being asked to be that informal with the heir to the Empire so he sidestepped it. "No one blames you. You were injured but you didn't let that stop you. You rode back to Skyhold, you raised the alarm, and now everyone is looking for her," he said and stepped up next to him, the way the Prince was holding the blue fabric told him all he needed to know. "Jean, this place has more mages that are capable of things I never knew existed. We are going to find her. Solas…Solas wouldn't take her unless he wanted something from Khrys."
Jean didn't like that, it didn't help but he understood what Michel was saying.
"And for what it's worth…you have my blessing," he added and Jean looked over at him, his brow noticeably furrowed even under the mask. "You'll have to get around Dorian still but you're a good man, Highness."
Bree woke like she'd been poked by something sharp; she panicked, not recognizing her surroundings and her memories of what had happened didn't help matters. Where was she? Where was Jean? She stood feeling a little shaky…and hungry, her stomach growled loudly. She ignored it and checked herself over, she had no apparent injuries but all her weapons were gone. Her knife and her Sprit Blade was also missing. Of course, it would be, only an idiot would leave her with weapons but he had to know that she was a mage and she didn't need weapons to be dangerous.
The chamber was comfortable, spartan, but comfortable. The bed was clean and fluffy, a fire burned in a small hearth on the right end of the room, and its architecture had a distinct Elven feel about it. She examined it; it was a strange cell…if that's what it was. Bree stepped to the door and tried it, to her shock it gave. Why was she in an unlocked room? She tabled that thought and stepped into the hall. She could go right or left and her brow furrowed, there were no guards that she could see but she had the impression that she was underground. The corridors were tall but didn't have the same stone structure that Skyhold did. It was carved not built. Bree took a moment and chose right. It still looked Elven but nothing like the ruins she'd been in.
The corridor led to a larger chamber, still it didn't look built as much as carved, and given its size it must have taken considerable time to do so. There was a man seated at the table, obviously an Elf, bald, and Bree felt her stomach sink.
He turned to face her and she felt like she was going to need to fight, if she was a prisoner he was a poor jailer and that was a comfortable cell but he didn't attack, he simply smiled at her with a polite nod. "Good evening," he greeted politely and Bree blinked. Her first instinct was to attack, to escape but something tempered her. Her father taught her to be aggressive but her mother instilled caution. As a novice Knight-Enchanter Michel instructed her in the mastery of sword and she had a natural ability to command fire but this was the same man who single-handedly defeated Ramelle and Krem, so an attack may not have been prudent. Her mind raced briefly, Krem and Ramelle were dead as was Jean's squire but she didn't know about the rest. "Are you hungry?"
Her brow furrowed, he was an interesting jailer…if that's what he was. "You're him aren't you?" she questioned but still didn't move from where she was and remained poised for defense or attack.
He smiled and chuckled softly, his smile was charming and his chuckle was kind. "What kind of question is that?" he asked still laughing.
Bree eyed him critically; this was the man that her mother fell in love with and the cause of most of her pain. The ancient Elf named Solas. "I know you," she said ignoring his question. "My mother still speaks of you…Solas."
Solas smiled and gestured to the table, he knew Khrys still thought of him despite the Chevalier she now bedded. "And you are Gabriella."
"Where am I?"
"Please sit, Da'len."
"Fuck you," she spat. "Where am I?"
Solas' observation of her was mixed, she looked like Dorian but there was something about her that screamed of Khrystabel. It was her manner, not her looks apart from her eyes, the way she carried herself was the same as her mother. His lingering regret surfaced briefly before he locked it away. She could have been his. "Please sit."
Bree let her temper flare and took one step forward her right hand conjuring a threatening flame. "Not until you tell me where I am and why I'm here!" she snarled in return.
Solas seemed underwhelmed and made no move to stop her or shield himself. "You have your father's way, Da'len."
The audacity of this terrorist, who did he think he was to call her something only Balian and her mother called her. "Stop calling me that!" she barked and released the flame blast from her hand at it.
He was still unimpressed and dissipated the flame before it reached him, magic that Bree had never seen before and then felt a strong negative energy pull toward him then she was flat on her back after being hit by something she could only liken to a force blast. She groaned as pain spread across the back of her head and then Solas appeared over her.
"You are exactly like your father," he commented offering her a hand. Bree glowered and did not accept the help; instead she picked herself up and tried to maintain an arm's length distance from him. "I do not wish to harm you, Gabriella, so please…sit," he told her allowing his tone to be a little firmer.
"I am in serious trouble," she thought to herself, this was Solas, the most powerful mage in Thedas…the man who walked into Vigil's Keep, took on the Warden-Queen, survived, and killed Nathaniel. The man who sundered the world, created the veil, and now wanted to destroy it. A blood mage couldn't kill him so there wasn't a hope in hell for her to succeed where they'd failed.
She sat and surveyed the table, there was meat and fruit and her stomach growled. Something told her to not eat anything but she was very hungry. Solas sat also, looking at her from across the table, his eyes were unsettling. "Why am I here?" her true question was 'Where was Jean?' but she let it alone. Solas had her for a reason; he attacked Vigil's Keep for a reason so therefore he took her for a reason.
Solas didn't answer; he wasn't a fool to divulge his plans. "Eat," he said and Bree's face colored with anger.
"You don't start answering my questions I'll make you a very unhappy jailer," she spat and Solas actually chuckled.
"Now you sound like your mother," he replied affectionately. "You are here for a reason but I will tell you no more. I do not intend to harm you so don't give me a reason to."
"You killed my friends," she hissed.
Solas blinked and looked down at the dish that had cut up apples in it. "I took no pleasure in killing Krem…I always liked him."
"And yet you did it anyway… and killed Ramelle, and Etienne, and Philippe, and Je-…"
"The Prince is alive," he said cutting her off; at least he hoped his hit didn't kill him, and saw the expression on her face. He knew budding love when he saw it and it made him smile slightly. She fiddled with the ring on her right thumb. Its design was distinctly Orlesian and he snorted inwardly, his spies didn't say they'd bonded that much. "What has your mother told you about me?"
"Why am I here?" she asked and Solas snorted softly.
"I like you, Gabriella; you remind me of your mother," he commented noticing that it only infuriated her more.
The comment offended her, he spoke of her mother but he haunted her dreams and every waking moment. "You don't even know me," she snarled back and snatched a piece of apple from the bowl he was eating from. If it was safe for him it was okay for her.
"But I do. You are adept with fire, you study Knight-Enchanting, and you are a Dreamer," he rattled off and Bree's hackles went up. "You know the Aegis of the Rift. Did your mother teach you that?"
"Why am I here?" she growled, if he wanted ask her questions, he was going to have to answer a few.
Solas sighed heavily and replied the same way. "You're here for a purpose, I will tell you no more," he said and Bree glared at him.
"Then this is going to be a very one sided conversation for you," she hissed. Solas' expression didn't change; he wasn't lying when he said he liked her. Bree was a fiery one just as he'd observed in the Fade, she was a strong Dreamer and that was what alerted him to her but she was stronger than Dreamers were supposed to be. No one was a match for him but he could sense her power, she had potential, a lot of potential.
Bree studied him through her glare. She didn't trust him, not one bit. His question, she answered in her head. Her mother did tell her a bit, not too much bit the rest she'd heard from Michel, Cullen, and of course her father. Solas was charming and kind but also manipulative. He broke her mother's heart twice. He wanted to destroy the world and now he'd kidnapped her, she got a bad feeling about that…if he'd kidnapped her that meant she was a part of whatever his scheme was.
Bree didn't eat much, she was too busy eyeing him and wondering if all the food was tainted or poisoned. She ate whatever he ate but her stomach was still growling, she wanted to devour everything on that table but she didn't trust him.
"What is this place?" she asked looking around the hall. It didn't look like any hall she'd ever been in; to be honest it looked like an Elven temple.
"A place of power," he answered.
He wasn't lying; she could feel the power in the hall. It felt like Skyhold but stronger, there was magic in the place, powerful magic that she'd never felt before. "Are you always this cryptic?"
Solas allowed a slight smile and a soft snort. "That's what I've been told," he replied and glowered briefly looking away. Bree rolled her eyes, now she knew why her mother loved him and her father hated him. "You're a strong Dreamer but you don't seem to use your power much."
Bree heard him but just chose to ignore him. She was a Dreamer, contrary to the popular belief she wasn't weak as most believed Dreamers were. Prone to possession and death. Bree was far from that. She'd gone in and out of the fade at will since she was a child and never had issues with the demons or spirits.
"You asked me a question and now you refuse to answer one of mine?" Solas went on and Bree turned to face him.
"You didn't ask a question, you made a statement," she growled and Solas actually laughed.
"I did indeed," he replied through the chuckle. "Why do you not use your gift, Gabriella?"
Bree turned from him and took in the hall, it was size of the great hall in Skyhold but she didn't think it was much bigger than that. There were no windows and she still had the impression that she was underground. "Bree," she corrected absentmindedly. "My father calls me Gabriella when I'm in trouble." She blinked not sure why she'd just told him that but answered his question. "When I was 12 I influenced the minds of some people in Skyhold. Afterward, my father taught me how to control it better."
Solas nearly sneered and a scoff came out. "Your father?"
Bree turned on him again. "My father is a great mage, Fen'Harel," she snapped using the name as a curse.
Solas liked her spirit; it was just like her mothers. "Your father is a Magister and a show off and you're a fool if you think he's a great mage."
Bree lunged forward but stopped short about a foot from him. "Do not insult him!" she yelled. "He is a great man who taught me everything I know. I'll demonstrate if you like," her right hand flared with fire but Solas didn't move.
"Don't be foolish, Da'len," he replied only infuriating her more.
"Stop calling me that!" she roared in his face and brought her flamed hand up but he caught her hand channeling magic through it to douse the flame.
"I told you, do not be a fool, child. You are no match for me so rein in your temper," he warned and felt the sting from her other hand as it slapped across his right cheek. Solas didn't like that, his patience only went so far and she was dangerously close to finding the end of it. He snatched up the other hand and gripped it tightly. "I told you to rein in your temper."
"Then let me go," she struggled but his grip was solid and he was channeling something that blocked her magic.
"That depends on your mother, Child," he said and she locked eyes with him. It dawned on Bree in that moment. He wanted to use her as bargaining chip, he wanted the Relic and she was the key to getting it.
"Son of a bitch," she cursed to herself. There was nothing she could do to stop whatever he wanted to do, she wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do but she knew she probably wasn't going to like it. "This is what you do? You ransom little girls when you can't get to their mothers."
Solas growled and released her allowing her to back off. "Careful, Child."
"Or what? You'll kidnap me? Kill my friends? Throw me in a dungeon?" she spat back, her tone flippant. "Oh, wait, Fen'Harel, you've done that already." Solas let her tirade continue. "You want to know what my mother told me about you, because she told me a lot about you…not always to me some of it I overheard from my father and Michel." Bree's calm demeanor had evaporated and left only anger. "You were the one who started it all. You almost destroyed the world because you woke up to a world you didn't like. How childish. Then you nearly killed my mother, broke her heart twice, but not before taking her arm as a parting gift. How gallant of you."
Everything she was spitting at him was completely true but that didn't make it feel any better. "That's enough," Solas warned.
"Not hardly," she snarled in return. "You're a murderer-…"
Solas snarled forward in anger. "Silence, Child, you've made your point," he was inches from her face but Bree held her ground. "I love your mother and leaving her was the hardest thing I ever had to do. You know nothing about it so do not judge me for it."
Bree didn't care, she'd seen her mother crying, listened to what she'd said to her father and to Michel. It didn't matter that Solas still loved her, it mattered that in spite of that he still wanted to destroy the world with everyone in it.
Nearly a week has passed and still no sign of Bree, the contingent of Orlesian chevaliers had grown considerably, and Jean returned to Skyhold with Etienne and handful more. Etienne argued that Bree wasn't in Skyhold and that returning to the fortress wasn't going to help find her but something told Jean to return. Etienne was immediately well received, he was handsome, and young with a dashing smile, and he appeared to be Jean's right hand. At over six foot with the same broad build as the Prince, girls giggled and whispered as they passed.
The majority of his army was looking for Bree and the one who attacked them. His father also, Gaspard had joined the search but still nothing. There had been no sign of her; Orlais was efficient when they put their minds to it and had conducted a methodical search but she was still nowhere to be found.
Jean was growing impatient; he was dangerous when he was impatient. He'd learned to temper it with the Chevaliers, years and years of them not caring that he was the heir of Orlais taught him that impatience got people killed. His father was the greatest Chevalier that ever lived because he was smart and patient. It was a hard lesson to learn and once in a while Jean's natural tendency toward impatience returned.
Khrys tossed and turned in the bed to the point it woke Michel. "Khrys," he said trying to wake her from the dream that had her in its grip. "Khrys, wake up, love."
She didn't respond, the dream had her. She stood in the remains of a broken temple or a tower, she wasn't sure which. She'd never seen it before and it was unremarkable. It occurred to her that she wasn't sure why she was dreaming of this place if she'd never seen it or been there.
"Hello, Vhenan." An all too familiar voice said and she turned toward it. There he was, Solas, the literal man of her dreams.
"Solas," she breathed out like she'd seen a ghost. Part of her wanted to kill him and another part of her wanted to kiss him. After 15 years it would be a kiss that could melt the world but she didn't. Even in the Fade the notion to kill him for everything he had done was as overwhelming as they came. Solas looked exactly the same, he wasn't in armor just the tan and green robes she'd always seen him wear.
Solas took in the sight of her. She was in her night gown, penalty of pulling her from where she was last, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. "You look beautiful," he said and for a fleeting moment Khrys blushed, then realized that he had pulled her here. He wanted her here for a reason.
"Where is my daughter?" she demanded.
Solas knew that he wasn't going to get anything else from her and that wasn't his purpose, his purpose was to deliver a message not try to rekindle a romance that had died a horrible death years before. "Come here, alone, and we can discuss your daughter. She is unharmed and will remain that way."
"Where? Why did you take her?" she asked and stepped to him, almost close enough to touch him. She had to force herself not to.
"When you wake you will know, Vhenan," he said and gently touched her face, it may have been the Fade but it was still her. He loved her but it wasn't meant to be…he nearly gave it all up in that cove for her but in all honesty she wasn't enough to make him abandon his path, as painful as that was and he would never tell her that to her face. "Come alone and we will discuss this further." In a flash he was gone and the tower was gone.
Khrys sat up sharply with a gasp. "Solas!"
Michel caught her in his arms. "Hey. Hey, love," he soothed and she blinked the Fade dream away. She could see Michel in the firelight and closed her eyes thankful to be back in the real world with him. "Can't say I like the idea of hearing you call his name when you wake up from a particularly disturbing dream."
Khrys found the humor and laughed lightly. "He wants to talk to me," she said and shivered in the cold air. What Solas said was correct; she could see the tower in her head. "I need a map."
She jumped out of bed and scurried out leaving Michel a little confused. "Khrys. Khrys, wait! What happened?"
Michel grabbed a shirt and her robe as he followed her down the steps. Skyhold was sleeping in the middle of the night as Khrys jogged to the War Table. Michel had managed to put a shirt on as he followed her but the stone floor froze his feet, he should have thought to grab his boots. He handed her the robe as she flipped through Cullen's maps.
"Here," she said pointing to a map of the Free Marches. "This is it."
"There's nothing there but fields," Michel said and Khrys grunted.
"Well, there's something there…and he has my daughter so I'm going to find her," she told him. "Bring me Cullen, Fenris, Cole, the Prince, and Malcolm."
Rousted from bed in the middle of the night, most arrived looking disheveled and tired. Malcolm's shirt was open, his hair was a mess and his boots were untied. Cullen was practiced at the notion of being awoken in the middle of the night and looked far better, though not as proper as he usually was. Jean looked about as proper as any man could be, pulled from bed after a restless night of sleep. No matter, he still looked like a Prince in his white shirt, black pants, and thigh high riding boots. His guard, who was uninvited but came anyway, looked a little less proper. Much like Malcolm, Etienne looked as if he'd gotten dressed on the way down the stairs.
Etienne yawned as the group assembled at the same time Malcolm did. Cullen glared at the both of them.
"I am not letting you go alone, I don't care what he said." They heard Michel say.
"Michel-…"
Michel had made the mistake of leaving her once and someone tried to kill her so her plan to go and meet Solas alone did not please him. "No. I'm not letting you go alone, Khrys."
Khrys sighed heavily, her love for him was deep but he was relentless and downright aggravating sometimes. "I don't have time to argue about this, Vhenan."
Michel's tone lowered reflecting that he wasn't kidding. "Make time," Michel forced and Khrys glowered at her tall Orlesian lover.
The Prince grumbled, annoyed and impatient. "You know where Bree is?" Jean spoke up, uninterested in the argument that was going on. His main focus was to find Bree.
His voice stopped the debate between Michel and Khrys but briefly. "I have an idea on that," she replied motioned for the Templars.
Michel was generally very quiet and reserved but when it came to Khrys he'd stand and fight in an argument with her. "In a minute; Khrys, don't change the subject. I am not letting you go and meet Solas alone," Michel pressed and Khrys grumbled, he was over protective of her and she could understand why. When she spoke to protest Michel actually raised his voice. "This is not up for debate."
"I'll go with her," Malcolm spoke up and Michel gave him a look and shook his head.
"I will."
"Michel, I need you here," she shook her head and saw the look in his eye. "With Dorian in Tevinter, I need you here if something goes wrong. Please, love, I'll take Malcolm with me."
Michel didn't like it but before he protested more the Prince spoke up. "I apologize for the interruption but my priority is your daughter, not who is going to protect you, Inquisitor," he said, his tone was polite but strained. He may have been young and not yet Emperor but he did act like one. Jean's patience was razor thin and Etienne could see it. He was in love and it wasn't in Jean's character to stand by and quibble over who got to go where. Make the plan and carry it out.
Michel nearly smiled proud that the Prince was thinking of nothing but Bree but also felt a rise of anger as well. Khrys was every bit as important as Bree though he understood the Prince's point. He didn't say anything and then looked over at Khrys who looked equally angry. "Be careful, your Highness," she hissed back but tempered her anger when Declan entered and focused on why she sent for one of her Templars. "Fenris. Cole. You two and Declan will take Bree's phylactery and track her to wherever she is."
Jean looked confused and glanced at Etienne who was as confused as he was. Since the circles were dismantled phylacteries were burned or destroyed. It caused a major issue with Chantry and the people but since the mages were no longer under the thumb of the Chantry there was no longer a need for them. "Phylactery?"
"Yes, all the mages in Skyhold have phylacteries, even me," she replied and Fenris acknowledged her order. "Track her to wherever she is and bring her back." Khrys would love nothing more than to send Michel, a man she loved and trusted more than Dorian but she couldn't risk leaving Skyhold without a leader if something went wrong. Fenris and Cole she knew would carry out the mission and were unique enough to handle all that would be thrown at them.
Jean stepped forward. "I'll go too." Etienne moved to protest but was silenced before he spoke with a wave of Jean's hand. His Prince was annoyed and the black haired Chevalier fell silent. "I failed to protect her and I will make it right."
The entire room appreciated the gesture and they all looked to the Inquisitor. "We can't risk your safety, Highness," Khrys said shaking her head.
He remembered his manners, barely. "I don't care about my safety, Inquisitor. I wish to find your daughter," he said and his tone showed that he wasn't kidding.
"Highness-…," Khrys began and the Prince took another step toward her.
"You cannot stop me. I am going with or without your permission," he told her and she knew that she couldn't stop him and that she really shouldn't stop him. The Prince would be a tremendous ally and it was best not to anger him.
Khrys gave it a long thought and then nodded. "Fine," she nodded and turned to Fenris, her best agent and loyal guard. "Bring my daughter back to me, Fenris." The lyrium warrior nodded, silent as he always was. He and Cole were a devastating pair, Declan was her best Templar, and the Prince…the Prince loved her daughter…that much was evident.
"While they track Bree, Malcolm and I will go and meet Solas." He'd told her to come alone and that made Malcolm a good companion choice since he was very good at disappearing into the shadows and skilled in the art of deception.
"And what if she's with him?" Cullen asked and Khrys shrugged, she'd thought of that.
"Then I'll have backup…when they all arrive," she replied gesturing to the troupe that was being sent for Bree. Michel wasn't necessarily comfortable with that, she was taking a gamble but she was right about having backup if everything went sideways. Malcolm alone was worth ten men but even still…he'd feel better if he could be there.
