The veteran Templars arrived and a few days later preparations were complete – the time had come to seal the Breach. Faydren had kept her distance from just about everyone since they got back from Therinfal, only occasionally seeking out Cole for quiet company. As they walked with her to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was strange to have them all so near once more. Strange, but not unwelcome.
The path was familiar, though last time the circumstances were quite different. Her alliance with the Seeker, Varric, and Solas had started as a necessity but now she couldn't imagine having come this far without them. She had met so many amazing new people. It was going to be sad to see them go...
Most of their entourage stayed near the entrance. Only Cassandra, Solas, and the Templars followed her to the Breach-rift itself. Solas shouted instructions to the knights, urging them to lend her their power. Faydren studied the green mark now crackling on her hand. It was a lot less foreign now after how many rifts she'd closed. The pain was still there when she used it, but not as bad. With training from Solas, she'd even been able to focus her power into it on occasion. Now was the culmination of that training.
With a rallying cry, Solas raised his staff in the air and the Templars dropped to one knee with swords planted in the ground. The air around them hummed with power and it washed over her like a wave. It wasn't quite like the power she normally dealt with as a mage, but similar enough for her to draw on it. Pushing against the green pulses of energy blasting out of the Breach's focal point, she got close enough to feel a connection before thrusting her hand upwards at it.
For a moment she felt nothing. Then her hand blazed with the agony of liquid fire running through her veins. The sensation crept up her arm all the way to the shoulder and she bit back a cry. The pain hadn't been this severe since the day she'd received the mark, but she could feel the Breach reacting. It was working. Faydren pulled at the residual power still swirling around her from the Templars. It was so close- Just a little bit more!
A blinding flash was followed by a massive shockwave and everyone tumbled to the ground. It was just like before – except this time, she had closed it completely. Cassandra rolled to her feet and pushed past the Templars to reach Faydren, who was kneeling down. Placing a hand on her shoulder gently, the Seeker couldn't help smiling.
"You did it."
Cheers erupted from all around the Temple as those outside saw the signs of their victory as well. Faydren almost smiled herself, but her heart was sinking also. She did it. Everyone could be safe now. They could all go back to their lives. Nobody needed her anymore...
Back in Haven, the celebration began in earnest and went late into the night. There was laughter, dancing, drinking – it was refreshing to see the worry and constant fear gone from everyone's faces. Iron Bull and his Chargers were teaching everyone drinking games, Varric was telling thrilling stories, Sera was trying to get a prank war started - it was perfection.
Faydren stood in her usual spot on the ramparts, a slight smile on her lips as she watched the festivities from a distance. She spotted Cassandra coming her way and gave a slight nod as the Seeker joined her.
"Why do you not join them? You deserve this more than anyone," her brown eyes were questioning.
"I like seeing them all happy. It's distracting to be in the middle of it," Faydren shrugged.
Cassandra simply nodded before going quiet, both of them content to just watch in companionable silence for a few moments. The silence was shattered as alarm bells began to ring out across the settlement. Cullen's voice cut through above the din.
"Forces approaching! To arms!"
The joy from a moment ago turned to terror as people began screaming and running for shelter. Drinks were spilled, tables and chairs knocked over, and soon the site of the party was nothing more than a ghost town.
"What the...? We must get to the gates!"
Cassandra jumped down from the ramparts and sprinted the short distance to where Cullen was already standing. Faydren swiftly followed and the rest of the inner circle met there as well. Faces were concerned all around. Who would be attacking them now?
"Cullen?" The Seeker's voice was tense.
"One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain," he gestured in that direction.
"Under what banner?" Josephine asked, clearly preparing for any diplomatic fallout.
"None," was the confused response.
"None?" Josie blinked.
Faydren had moved past them, examining the gates intensely. She could feel magic. Something was happening on the other side. There was an orange flare of light and the rumbling sound of a small explosion as the gate doors shook on their hinges. Then there was silence. To her surprise, a muffled voice called out.
"If someone could open this, I'd appreciate it!" Its tone was surprisingly light considering the situation.
Narrowing her eyes, she pushed past the soldiers and swung the gates wide. A man with deeply tanned skin and jet black hair was kneeling on the ground in exhaustion. The area around him was littered with dead enemies. He planted his staff and used it to push himself up, revealing a decidedly handsome face with argent eyes and a well-groomed mustache. Faydren and Cullen ran toward him but stopped a couple feet away, uncertain. The mage smiled up at them weakly.
"Ah! I'm here to warn you. Fashionably late, I'm afraid."
He managed to slip humor in, though Faydren couldn't fathom why. Standing to his full height, the man wobbled and then nearly fell down again. Cullen reached out to steady him.
"Mite exhausted. Don't mind me," he pushed away from Cullen, this time standing more firmly. "My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe – an army of rebel mages, right behind me."
"The mages?" Faydren's heart sank. "But why?"
"They are under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called the 'Elder One'," Faydren flinched at the name as Dorian rotated to point at the hill behind him. "The woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori. For that-"
A monstrous humanoid figure stepped out of the mists.
"The Elder One."
Faydren's heart was racing. It should be over. Everyone was supposed to be safe after she closed the Breach! Now there was an army of soldiers and mages marching toward them from all sides. Was she not allowed even a glimmer of hope anymore? Must everything she touched turn to dust?
"They were already marching on Haven. I risked my life to get here first," Dorian was both defensive and apologetic.
"Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!" Faydren locked down her rising fear. There had to be a way to get them through this.
"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle," he shook his head, thinking. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!"
Drawing his blade, the Commander turned towards the Inquisition and began giving orders. Faydren watched him closely, admiring his leadership and how much loyalty and respect his soldiers clearly gave him. The man was made for leading warriors into battle.
"Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"
The battle cry sent chills down her spine and the assembled soldiers cheered, banging swords on shields. Adrenaline started pumping and the air crackled with energy as her eyes began to glow. Faydren realized that her friends had moved to stand with her - and it gave her strength. She turned to face the enemy without fear.
She'd kill them all herself if she had to.
Dorian watched her with curiosity. The 'Herald of Andraste' wasn't at all what he expected. When people spoke of her they'd describe some tall, stoic woman with the kindness of a saint and an air of graceful dignity. There was also mention of shining armor, a white horse, a glimmering halo… all the clichés one could think of really.
What he saw was a slight girl with ice in her gaze who couldn't be more than twenty-five. She definitely stood out with that short white hair and dark olive skin – he might use the term 'exotic' himself. Coming from Tevinter he was no stranger to mages and their quirks, but even he was surprised when the magic manifested itself in her eyes. That was a new one.
She wore a dark leather half-jacket with some chainmail at the shoulders and simple carmine clothes underneath. There was metal plating on her thigh-high boots as well as key spots on her arms and gloves. It was more practical for fighting and traveling than the usual mage robes, and she wore it well.
After using up most of his energy to get there, Dorian couldn't contribute much to the fighting aside from the occasional barrier cast on nearby troops. From the looks of it, they were handling themselves quite well without him. There was a dwarf with a repeating crossbow skirting the edges of the fighting and making every shot count; a bald elf throwing barriers and fire magic with equal skill; some boy that didn't quite feel like a boy as he flickered in and out of perception, daggers finding their marks; a ferocious dark-haired woman who fought like a Templar; and lastly, a large Qunari who stayed near the Herald like a mother bear guarding its cub while his greataxe crushed the attackers in droves.
None of them made for quite the sight that she did though. Eyes glowing, hair floating unnaturally, electricity sparking all around her as she rained down lightning on her enemies– the woman looked like a force of nature. Sometimes she didn't appear to be casting at all, yet the electrical storm remained. It was strange to see so much raw power expelled with such little focus, but emotions were a strong motivator. And she was furious.
Dorian could see why, too. Every Inquisition soldier that fell caused her pain and it only fueled her rage. There was no way that she personally knew all of these people, but she was taking each of their deaths to heart. Another thing he didn't expect from her.
"Somebody man the trebuchet!"
He was too far away, but the Herald clearly heard the call as well. She stopped casting and sprinted for the unmanned siege weapon. It was obvious that she'd never really used one, but if everything else was ready she just needed to crank it. Dorian blocked a blade with his staff. He needed to pay more attention to his own situation... With a grunt, he kicked the man away and blasted a fireball at his face. The soldier screamed and dropped to the ground, but Dorian was in no shape to stay any longer. Breathing heavily, he worked his way towards the gate.
The sound of the trebuchet firing snapped into the night, followed by a deep rumbling that shook the ground itself. Dorian glanced behind in surprise to see an avalanche race down the mountain, crushing the enemies in its path. For a moment, there was silence. Then the Inquisition soldiers started cheering. That may have just turned the tide of battle in their favor.
The moment was short-lived as a howling roar echoed through the mountains. There was the crash of breaking wood as the trebuchet was blasted to nothing but splinters by a fireball the size of a small house. The earth around Dorian was cast into darkness by a large winged shadow.
"Dragon," he breathed.
Faydren had barely gotten away from the trebuchet before it exploded into fiery ruin. She staggered to her feet, coughing as the acrid smoke seared her lungs. The others were slowly regaining their footing as well and she was relieved to see no one seriously injured. Well, no one except the Inquisition soldiers scattered across the ground... Their reflexes weren't fast enough. They'd been too excited about the avalanche.
Clenching her jaw, she moved past the corpses. There was nothing she could do for them now. They needed to get back to the gates. With that thing around, staying to fight in the open would be suicide. What was it? Could the enemy actually be controlling a dragon?
Cullen was waiting at the gates, ushering everyone inside before slamming them shut. It wouldn't do much good, but at this point anything helped. He shouted for everyone to get to the Chantry. It was the only building that might hold against an assault by the creature. Something slammed against the gate and it was time to move.
"Stormcloud, let's make sure the village is clear," Varric was panting.
"I agree. We don't want anyone caught outside when the enemy breaks through in force."
They swept the town, cutting down any advance enemy forces that had made it through. The decision proved to be a good one, and they saved many more of Haven's residents from the wreckage before sending them to the Chantry. The gratitude on their faces as they looked to their rescuers was all the reward she needed.
Most of the buildings had been checked and they were fighting more Venatori when Faydren heard a cry for help from the tavern. The building was barely standing and flames belched out from the windows. She could just make out the woman struggling under a piece of fallen roof.
"Flissa!" Faydren cried before fade stepping to the door.
The others could handle the Venatori, but the building might fall and crush the barkeeper at any moment. Coughing and trying to keep low, Faydren moved to the woman's side and began tossing the debris off her legs. Flissa looked at her with surprised watery eyes.
"Herald?" She coughed repeatedly, putting a hand on Faydren's shoulder. "Please go! They need you!"
The mage frowned at her disapprovingly and kept working. The attempt at selflessness was noble, but unnecessary. The building creaked dangerously and she worked faster. Flissa was almost free. With a whooshing snap, part of the ceiling caved in. Faydren threw herself over Flissa and shut her eyes tightly.
A cloud of dust and a couple splinters fell on her but nothing else. She rolled over to find herself staring up at The Iron Bull. Blood was running down his face, and she could see the burns on his arms and shoulders. The pieces of ceiling fell on either side of him as he smiled down at her painfully. Damn that Qunari... Tears filled her eyes but she swiped them away with a sooty hand. Getting to their feet, Bull quickly picked up Flissa and the three of them exited what was left of the tavern.
"That's everywhere! Now I think it's our turn to head for the Chantry," Varric said with relief.
The Chantry doors opened as they approached, Chancellor Roderick ushering them in. Faydren stopped as the cleric began to fall, but Dorian stepped up to catch him instead. Apparently the man had actually tried to stand against one of the Venatori soldiers – brave, but foolish. The rest of her group went further in to assist with whatever they could as Cullen approached.
"Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us," he raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "There has been no communication, no demands. Only advance after advance."
"There was no bargaining with the mages, either," Dorian joined the conversation. "This Elder One takes what it wants. From what I gathered in Redcliffe, it marched all of this way to take your Herald."
The words struck Faydren like a blow. All of this death and destruction... just to reach her? She would have offered herself gladly to prevent this attack. But it was too late now.
"I don't care what he wants," she fumed. "How do I stop him?"
"Trust me, that is not information I would keep to myself," Dorian snapped before his gaze softened. "And such a promising start with the landslide. If only trebuchets remained an option."
"They are," Cullen clearly had a thought. "If we turn the last of them to the mountains above us."
"We're overrun," Faydren was confused. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."
"This is not survivable now," his face was grim. "The only choice left is how spitefully we end this."
Dorian got to his feet and began arguing with Cullen. Faydren stopped listening as her mind went spinning. It was happening again. History seemed doomed to repeat itself. First the Circle, now Haven. She was going to lose everything again... Everyone.
"There is a path," Roderick spoke from where Dorian had sat him down. "You wouldn't know it was there unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape."
The three of them stared at him in shock, a small glimmer of hope returning.
"She must have shown me," he rasped. "Andraste must have shown me so I could... Tell you."
This was it. This was their chance, and she'd do anything to make sure it succeeded.
"If that thing is here for me, I'll make him fight for it," she growled.
"And when the mountain falls? What about you?" Cullen's voice was strained.
Faydren turned away, eyes sad as she remained silent. She couldn't look at him, couldn't face the pain she knew she'd find. Nobody would say it, but all of them knew- she wouldn't be able make it out in time. Cullen exhaled a ragged breath.
"The trebuchets are already loaded, but you'll need to turn it. Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line."
"Cullen, I need you to promise me something," Faydren's violet-ringed eyes were intense as she faced him.
"If it's within my power, I'll do it."
"You can't let them follow me. Make sure they escape with the rest."
This was what she wanted – what she needed. This was not the Circle, and nobody would be dying for her this time. Cullen seemed about to argue, but thought better of it. His voice was solemn and quiet as he responded.
"I will try. What am I supposed to tell them?"
"Whatever it takes," Faydren headed for the exit, pausing as he spoke once more.
"If we are to have a chance - if you are to have a chance - let that thing hear you."
She felt his eyes until the Chantry doors closed behind her. And then she simply felt peace... It was her turn to keep them safe.
Cullen made sure everyone else made it into the secret path before entering himself and shutting the door, locking it tight. He nearly stumbled into Varric, Iron Bull, Solas, and Cole as he moved to continue down the path. They eyed him with confusion.
"Have you seen Stormcloud? I thought she was talking with you," Varric queried.
"She was, but she already left. Did you need her for something pressing or could you help transport these wounded?" He gestured to the many makeshift stretchers lining the path.
"Well if you're sure she made it in…" Iron Bull said reluctantly.
"I can help," Cole said hopefully and immediately set to work. Varric followed him, eyes still worried.
Solas searched the blonde man's face at length before giving a slight nod and moving to join the others. Cullen clenched his fists so hard that he felt his knuckles go white. He hated tricking them… but he would keep his promise. For her.
Dorian put a reassuring hand on Cullen's shoulder, compassion in his eyes. Right. They needed to reach the tree line. Switching into his leadership role, the Commander of the Inquisition began getting his people to safety.
Cullen looked down into the valley. Nobody could see her from this distance, but he tried anyway. He had waited until everyone moved further up the path before stopping out of view. They were above the tree line now like he'd said. If the trebuchet was to be fired, this was the time. He swallowed hard. This wasn't how he wanted it to be…
"Dorian." The dark-skinned man had stayed behind with him. "Can you- give the signal?"
"Of course," there was no witty pith in his voice now, only solemn understanding.
The mage focused intently, a ball of fire slowly growing between his hands. When it had reached a considerable size, he launched it into the sky. It went higher than the Templar had expected and hung in the air for a moment before slowly descending and fizzling into nothing. It was done.
"Cullen? What was that?"
He turned to find the Herald's closest companions all standing there, waiting for his reply. The Commander could not meet their gaze. A great rumbling filled the air behind him and he knew the avalanche had begun. She'd made it that far at least. Realization dawned on the assembled group.
"You lied to us!" Bull snarled, lifting Cullen by the front of his armor and slamming his back against a tree so hard that his teeth rattled.
"You sent her out there against that thing? Alone?" Varric was shocked, his face paling.
The former Templar remained silent, still pinned to the tree by Bull. Nothing he could say would make any of them feel better. A part of him actually wanted someone to punch him. It couldn't make him any more miserable than he already felt.
"Was this your doing?" Cassandra stared daggers at Dorian, unsheathing her blade as she approached him.
"What? No, I-" the Tevinter mage backed away slowly. Imminent confrontation was interrupted by a soft voice.
"Twisting, turning, chest tightening into a knot. The lie ate away at your insides," Cole had moved to Cullen, peering at him closely. "Mustn't tell. They mustn't follow. She made me promise."
"There was no way we would have left otherwise," Solas added quietly, clearly not surprised.
"You mean Boss...?" Bull's eye narrowed. "When I get my hands on that girl, I-"
The mercenary growled in frustration and released Cullen before storming off. The Templar didn't have time to catch his footing and fell to a sitting position at the base of the tree. He sat there forlornly, not bothering to get up.
"She made you promise, huh?" Varric's voice caught a bit. "Of course she did..." The dwarf walked away slowly, his shoulders sagging.
"We'll send out search parties every hour. I do not believe she would fall so easily," Cassandra glared at Dorian once more before stiffly following Varric, her jaw clenched tightly.
"They don't blame you," Cole told Cullen. "Not really. But it hurts them. Like it hurts you. I'm- not sure how to help."
"Come, Cole. Give them time for now," Solas motioned for him to follow.
Cullen still sat silently against the tree, his eyes glued to the snow. They might forgive him eventually... But he wasn't sure he'd forgive himself. Varric was right. She shouldn't have had to face it alone. Yet he also knew that Faydren would never have forgiven him if any of them had died because of her.
"Maker's breath," he sighed.
The sound of footsteps approaching crunched in the snow. He'd thought everyone had left, but a hand reached down tentatively. Cullen glanced up to see Dorian attempting a comforting smile. It didn't really help, but he took the hand nonetheless and the mage helped him to his feet. The two quietly walked to catch up with the others.
"She really means a lot to you all, doesn't she?" Dorian broke the silence. "Not just as the Herald of Andraste."
"Yes..." Cullen wasn't sure how or when it happened. But Faydren meant a lot more than that...
She felt like she was falling. Or maybe floating. Which was it? Everything was black. Was she dead? It didn't feel like death. Just… empty. Dreaming? Yes. That seemed right. She could feel her magic.
Something tickled at her senses. Turning without turning, she saw three pairs of eyes moving as one. They were looking for her. Then, looking at her. A voice echoed through the darkness. Wake up
Faydren woke with a start, immediately crying out. Her body felt bruised and broken all over, and there was a sharp pain in her side. Her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and revealed an icy cavern.
The avalanche. She hadn't known about this place, but when she saw the hole as the mountain came down it seemed like her best chance. She was alive, so there was that. Whether or not she stayed that way was another matter entirely.
Staggering to her feet, Faydren clutched the wound on her left side. A frozen pool of blood marked where she fell. The cold had slowed her bleeding to more of an oozing, but enough had been lost that her head was fuzzy. Her body was heavy with an icy numbness. How long had she been here? It didn't matter. Faydren lifted one foot, then the other, forcing her body to move toward the only open path. Hopefully it led outside.
Time blurred as she hovered on the edge of consciousness, but eventually she saw the exit. Taking an excited step forward, she halted as a demon rift opened in the center of the cavern. Her heart plummeted. In her condition, there was no way she could battle demons. The faceless wraiths stared for a moment before they launched hissing green energy at her.
Instinctively, she raised her left arm to guard her face. The anchor crackled, and a second rift appeared near the first – but this one was pulling in instead of out. The projectiles disintegrated in the pull, and the demons shrieked as their essence was sucked away. Faydren blinked. The mark must have changed when he tried to take it from her.
Stepping out of the cave, the mage was struck by a new wave of hopelessness. It was a snowstorm. Even if she knew which direction they'd gone, she could barely see two feet ahead and had no clue where she was. The wind was biting and passed through her clothes like nothing. This armor wasn't made for mountain travel.
A wolf howled in the distance. Faydren grit her teeth and moved toward the sound. She couldn't just wait there, or her death was a certainty. That howl made for as good a direction to start as any. Snow fell. She walked.
The snow eventually stopped. Her ragged breath came out in crystalline puffs and she no longer felt the wind on her frozen skin. By all rights she shouldn't be able to move, but her legs kept going by sheer force of will. She needed to see them. She had to know they were safe. And she needed to warn them.
"There she is!" The woman's voice was familiar.
"Thank the Maker." She recognized that one too. He sounded relieved.
They were here. They were safe. With a peaceful smile, Faydren collapsed into the snow. Strong arms encircled her, lifting her. They were so warm. She gazed up at the face close to hers. Those soft golden eyes – she remembered their warmth too. Faydren wanted to look at them forever, but her eyes slid closed.
Solas was the one who told them. Apparently the elf had set up wards in a large perimeter around their camp to give advance warning if the enemy found them. But he said the wards detected only one - a lone individual slowly making its way through the snow.
Cullen hadn't waited, dropping everything and dashing in the direction Solas indicated. Cassandra had heard as well and kept pace with him. The others were already out searching, but these two has stayed behind to plan their next move. And now they were running, daring to wish for something beyond all hope.
When he saw her standing there, wind playing through her silvery hair in the moonlight… The feelings filling his chest had no description. She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. But something was wrong. Her eyes glazed over and Cullen saw her fall.
He lunged forward, kneeling in the snow and gathering Faydren into his arms. It felt as though he might break her with the slightest pressure. Her lips were blue and every inch of exposed skin was coated with frost. There was red on the snow where she fell, and her right hand shone wet with blood. Cassandra ran ahead to find the healers as Cullen picked his way quickly and carefully through the drifts.
Murmurs and gasps swept across the camp as they became aware of what he carried. More than a few people began praying fervently. The Commander ignored them, heading straight for his own tent – it afforded more privacy than the makeshift infirmary, and more room for the healers to work. He laid Faydren gently down on the cot and moved out of the way as physicians and mages examined her condition, speaking in hushed tones. Knowing his presence would only be a distraction, Cullen stepped back out into the night.
He paced outside the tent anxiously. It had been hours, and nobody had given him more than a 'We're doing all we can'. Cullen wanted to yell at them that that wasn't good enough, but he knew it would just be taking out his frustration on the wrong target.
"Where?" A voice barked from the edge of camp.
Leliana had sent scouts to retrieve the search parties. They must have traveled a great distance if they were just getting back now. Iron Bull stormed around the corner and made for the tent flap. Cullen stepped in front of him. The Qunari gave him a hard look before backing down.
"Is it true?" Varric was breathless as he trotted up behind Bull.
"Yes. She's here," Cullen could barely believe it himself. "With the shape she was in, I don't know how she made it."
"Are they…?" Bull finally spoke, motioning to the tent. Cullen nodded.
"With the mages and the traditional healers, I have faith they will keep her with us."
The Qunari and dwarf exchanged relieved smiles. Since there was nothing more to do except wait, they left to warm up and get some sleep. It was something Cullen should probably do as well, but he was reluctant to leave his position. Whatever the night held, he would not let Faydren be alone this time.
Once she was well enough, each of her companions stopped by at some point or another. The physicians kept them from staying long for fear of wearing her out. Iron Bull spent most of his time threatening her with violence for leaving him behind, though she could tell he'd just been worried. Varric was relaxed and jovial, coming up with funny stories to tell. Dorian managed to dig up scandalous gossip around camp that -for some unknown reason- he thought she'd want to hear. Cassandra sat down and read next to her while she thought Faydren was sleeping. Solas discussed magic and the Fade – something about his eyes nagged at a fuzzy memory. Cole was always popping in and out, sometimes startling the other visitors. The rest merely checked in on her, relief obvious on their faces. It was touching that they were all so concerned.
Cullen came by one of the few times Faydren was alone, sitting on a stool that had been placed by the cot. She'd been meaning to speak with him privately.
"I haven't gotten the chance to thank you," her voice still cracked a bit. He raised an eyebrow. "For keeping your promise."
"It was the least I could do," he replied modestly.
"I'm sorry, Cullen…"
"What?" His brow knitted in confusion.
"Cole told me the others were angry with you," guilt filled her eyes. "I didn't realize. I-"
Cullen held up a hand to stop her.
"I need to have a talk with that boy later…" he grumbled before looking at her earnestly, his honey-colored eyes intent. "You don't need to apologize. Not to me, or anyone. You've earned that much. Now rest."
The ex-Templar gave her a crooked grin and warmth spread through her chest. Faydren relaxed and found herself smiling back, eyelids growing heavy. She was still tired. Cullen stood to leave. She refused to let her eyes close until the tent flap closed behind him.
The sound of shouting woke her. The voices were easily identified as Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra. Faydren kept her eyes closed. She'd insisted on being moved to the regular infirmary tent once she no longer needed constant attention. Her body still ached and a chill stuck with her, but they were certain her life was no longer in danger.
The council hadn't stopped arguing since she first woke up and told them what she'd learned – about the anchor in her hand and its purpose, about Corypheus and his claims – all of it. With no base of operations, the Inquisition was in shambles. They were barely scraping by in their little tent village. But they were safe. And that had been enough for her.
Opening her eyes reluctantly, Faydren carefully raised herself up on one elbow to look across the camp at the argument. Mother Giselle was seated nearby and tried to convince her to keep resting. She ignored the suggestion.
"They've been at it for hours," Faydren sighed.
"They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow. And with time to doubt, we turn to blame."
"If they're arguing about what we do next, maybe I should help?"
"I do not think adding another voice will help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours..." The Revered Mother seemed thoughtful. "Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw out defender stand – and fall. And now we have seen her return."
"It's not like I died..."
"True. But the more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained," she paused, eyes focused on the mage. "That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure? What we, perhaps, must come to believe?"
"Whatever the rest of you say, I felt no divine aid at the Conclave or Haven," Faydren's voice was bitter. "The struggle ahead seems mine alone…"
She got to her feet painfully and limped through the camp. It was nice to get off her back finally. A wave of dizziness hit and she steadied herself against a tent pole. Maybe it was too soon to get up after all.
The council had stopped arguing, splitting to brood individually instead. Faydren wished she had some way to remove the frustration and uncertainty plaguing them. But what could she do?
A voice began singing behind her, and she blinked in surprise. Faydren didn't know the words, but the melody… Darius used to hum it. Any time he had wanted to comfort her but couldn't find what to say, he would simply hold her and hum that song. She felt the tears but pushed them back. It wasn't time yet.
Mother Giselle moved to stand by her, still singing as Leliana joined in. Faydren watched in amazement as the entire camp began to sing, their voices ringing out into the clear night and filling the very air with hope. It gave her chills.
They kept going but Mother Giselle paused, smiling softly.
"Faith may have yet to find you. But," she motioned to the men and women surrounding them. "It has already found them."
It had been a long way and the terrain was not friendly, but it was worth it. Faydren's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide with wonder when she first spotted the fortress nestled on the mountainside. Solas called it Skyhold, and the name somehow fit perfectly.
Forgetting to wait for the rest of the Inquisition, Faydren darted down the steep incline and rushed toward their new home. Solas watched in amusement. She looked just like a child as she sprinted gleefully, barely stopping to catch her breath before regaining the pace. Varric stepped up next to the elf and chuckled.
"You couldn't have told her that it's a lot farther away than it looks?"
"I was not given the chance," Solas smiled.
"The healers are gonna be pissed if she opens up that wound again."
"Indeed."
Slowly but surely, the Inquisition made its way to their new base of operations. Everyone seemed more than happy with the accommodations, though it definitely needed some work as the walls were crumbling in a few places. Overall, the fortress was beautiful and just what they needed.
Faydren stepped outside after her explorations to find the council talking quietly and excitedly among themselves. That in itself should have set off warning signals. They spotted her and smiled conspiratorially before breaking off. Cassandra waved her over. The two walked together with the Seeker leading as she discussed what had happened and how they might proceed next now that Corypheus saw them as a threat.
"Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what you did," they were walking up the main stairway now. "And we know it - all of us."
Faydren froze at the last step. Leliana stood on the landing overlooking the courtyard, head lowered as she held out a magnificent sword. The mage's eyes darted around as she tried not to panic. If they were doing what she thought they were doing... Were they completely insane?
"The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading," Cassandra smiled slightly. "You."
The courtyard was filled with people. Everyone who had escaped Haven stood watching, waiting for her answer. She spotted Cullen and Josephine near the front of the crowd looking at her with encouraging expressions. Faydren considered Cassandra's words carefully. In a way, she was right. How had that happened? Without knowing it – or wanting it – she had been taking charge. Doubt still wormed at her mind.
"Perhaps I didn't hear you correctly... a mage at the head of the Inquisition?"
"Not a mage. You," the Seeker's words meant more than she could possibly imagine.
"I happen to be a mage," Faydren needed to be certain they truly wanted this. That they were ready for the consequences.
"I will not pretend no one will object," she admitted. "But times are changing. Perhaps this is what the Maker intended. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve – how you lead – that must be yours to decide."
Faydren eyed the sword in Leliana's hands. She was a noble by blood; a mage by birth; the 'Herald of Andraste' by circumstance. But now... now she could be something by choice. Maybe it was possible. Maybe she could lead the charge to help fix the broken world so it would never hurt anyone the way it had hurt her.
In reality, that was probably impossible... But Maker, she wanted to try. Grasping the sword's hilt tentatively, she raised it from Leliana's hands and focused on the shining blade. Her voice held a steely determination as she spoke.
"Corypheus will never let me live in peace. He made that clear. He intends to be a god – to rule over us all. Corypheus must be stopped."
"Wherever you lead us-" Cassandra let the statement hang in the air, yelling out to Josephine. "Have our people been told?"
"They have," Josephine beamed. "And soon, the world!"
"Commander," the Seeker shouted again. "Will they follow?"
"Inquisition!" Cullen grinned widely and turned to address the assembled group. "Will you follow?"
The crowd roared in approval.
"Will you fight?" He raised his hands, pausing to build the anticipation.
"Will we triumph?" The crowd roared even louder.
"Your leader... Your Herald..." Cullen drew his sword, turning and raising it to her in victorious salute as he shouted the words.
"Your Inquisitor!"
The crowd's excitement was contagious, and there was no hesitation as she raised her sword in return. The response was deafening. Faydren felt a surge of pride and joy as she heard it. They believed in her? All of them? Cullen's eyes twinkled as he gave her a nod of respect, Leliana and Cassandra smiled approvingly, and Josephine let out a whooping cheer that seemed to startle even her.
In that moment, Faydren was happier than she'd been in a long time.
That night there was a huge celebration, both for Skyhold and for their new Inquisitor. However the latter seemed to be missing. Varric needed a break from the storytelling he inevitably got drawn into (every damn time), and he wanted to see how Faydren was doing. After the initial speeches, nobody had seen her or where she went. They weren't worried though and were certain she must be off merry-making somewhere. Varric checked the obvious places and every person he knew she might celebrate with, but no dice.
Try the ramparts.
The thought appeared in his head as if by magic. Now why didn't he think of that? The dwarf paused. But didn't he just-? Ah. A smile played at his lips as he ascended Skyhold. It made sense that she'd be up here. It was her favorite thinking spot in Haven too after all.
Reaching the top of the gate tower, he spotted her. Faydren was curled up in a sitting position with her back against the battlements and her forehead pressed against her knees. Some might have thought she was praying or sleeping, but he knew better. He approached slowly and dropped down to sit next to her.
"Hey there, Stormcloud," his voice was soft and comforting.
Faydren raised her head in surprise, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she realized it was just him, her face crumpled and the tears fell faster. She spoke, and the vulnerability in her voice was so raw it hurt his heart.
"Varric..."
The dam had finally broken completely. The young mage threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, great wrenching sobs wracking her body. All the pain and hurt and sadness that had been building up since he'd met her flooded out like a tidal wave. He didn't say anything. Just sat there embracing her with one hand resting on her head.
Faydren had cried herself to sleep, head resting on Varric's lap with her body curled up next to him. He continued to sit, stroking her hair absentmindedly. Once he knew she wouldn't be waking up for a while, his eyes traveled to a dark area of the ramparts.
"Thanks, Kid," he said quietly. Cole materialized from the shadows.
"You saw me?"
"No. I thought you might be there," Varric grinned.
"Oh. Why is that?"
"Because you're the one who told me to come up here."
"Yes," Cole tilted his head curiously, but didn't ask how Varric knew. "Faydren was hurting. I wanted to help. But I couldn't be what she needed. So I found someone who could."
"You can see people hurting?"Varric knew Cole had some sort of mental connection, but he hadn't yet delved into what it was.
"Scars over scars. Ice packed so tightly that it only created more cracks. The wound was poisoned. She had to tear it open to let it heal."
"Sounds about right," the dwarf sighed, glancing down. Faydren looked more peaceful now than he'd ever seen her. Hopefully after this she'd be able to move past the pain and focus on other things... A certain blonde ex-Templar maybe? Varric chuckled to himself. That one might be a ways off.