If you would have told Skylar Tabris that she'd be attending the Conclave, she'd have laughed it off. She wasn't important enough for that. She wasn't even important enough to get official justice against the human that…hurt…her. Her brother had to do that himself, and he got dragged away by the guardsmen for it. There was also that bit about her being a dreaded apostate that really, really needed to keep her mouth shut and her head down if she knew what was good for her. The media had already swarmed all over her family twice now; once to worship her mother as the Hero of Ferelden all those years ago and then again to label her bother a cold-blooded murderer. It was a miracle that no one ever looked closely enough at her to discover her magic and she really needed to keep it that way. Even if it meant suffering injustices in silence. Everyone else seemed entitled and welcomed to air their grievances for every other petty offense or perceived insult all over social media, but she couldn't afford to do so even with a fabricated or anonymous identity. People said that templars had ways to get your information no matter what you did to hide or protect yourself from their intrusion. Everything was legal in the name of rooting out the dreaded apostates. True or not, she wasn't stupid enough to risk getting tossed in the Circle because she couldn't deal with her own trauma. Even if it was utterly crippling at times…She still needed work though, especially now that Killian was gone. How else was she gonna pay the rent with a good-for-nothing drunkard for a father?
Turns out all of those fancy, powerful nobles still needed workers. So suddenly there she was, bumping elbows with important people. She grits her teeth and bites her tongue as she serves those fancy, important people wine and fine foods while they so impatiently waited for a moment of the Divine's time.
Skylar couldn't help but be in awe of the mages, though. She was silently kicking herself in the ass for not turning herself in if they were truly going to be free now. She had a mind to walk right up to them now, plead with them to allow her to join them. Maybe it would get her out of that shithole they call the Alienage. But no…then what would happen to her father? It's not like he's done her any favors in recent memory, but still. She owed him…right?
She vaguely remembers going through the motions, putting on her best customer service voice for the hundredth time…but then, it's foggy…and after that? Nothing…
When she awakens hand-cuffed to the floor in the dungeon beneath the Chantry, she freaks. There's a searing pain in the palm of her hand but it's inconsequential at the moment. She was surrounded by a bunch of armed humans, men from the looks of them too. She could feel that her pockets were empty, meaning they'd taken her wallet and phone. Someone far more important than her was probably going through all of it.
This was it, she thought, the templars were finally going to haul her away. Did the Conclave fail? What's going on? What were they going to do to her?
That Seeker woman is rough with her but not malicious. Skylar appreciates that, a shem showing restraint is rare in her experience after all. And when she sees that thing…the Breach…Maker's Breath, that can't be…ah, fuck her hand hurts—what even is this damned thing? That Seeker tells her that it's killing her, but maybe, just maybe she can stop that thing in the sky…maybe she can save them all?
Skylar is scared shitless then. But what choice does she have? Either she dies fighting or writhing in agony on a floor in that dungeon…surrounded by humans…yeah, to the void with that. The chaos around her makes her think of her mother: she was brave, she was courageous and smart and all of those things that Skylar really needed to be right now. She takes a deep breath, although it doesn't calm her down as much as she wished it did. She tells that Seeker that she'll do everything she can. And she willingly follows that Seeker into battle, fights hard to control this Mark thing…
When she wakes up after closing the Breach, she's in a small apartment. Totally annoyed and freaked out that she seemed to have blacked out, again. And around complete strangers who hadn't even begun to earn her trust yet. Whoever put her there had left the TV going in the bedroom. The news was seemingly in a frenzy over the 'incident' at the conclave. Her picture was plastered over the screen. It was horrifying to realize these people had already found out so much about her and were all too ready to try and paint her as the dreaded murderer of the Divine. Killian was already a convicted killer, not too much of a stretch to think his little sister would be too. Oh, how far the children of the Hero of Ferelden had fallen. Such a shame.
There's this poor, scared serving girl in the living room who seems like she's ready to piss herself as she tells Skylar that the Lady Seeker wanted to see her. Skylar stands there watching the girl flee the apartment, somehow feeling as though she can't move herself from that spot just yet. It was the strangest, most frightening thing…like there was no going back. Nothing to be done but move forward into uncertainty. Whatever lay before her out there, it was going to change her life forever—if it hadn't already…She really hoped the Maker had a plan for all of this…not that she truly believed that any plan of his would have been made for her benefit.
There's people in the hallway all staring at her like she was their only hope. Every one of them feel like more and more weight on her shoulders. Is this how her mother felt? Her head is practically spinning. Just days ago, she was no one. Now they call her the Herald of Andraste? The Herald of a prophet that never helped her no matter how much she cried out for it. The whole thing just feels wrong, sickening even. She can't get out of that building fast enough. But the effort is in vain, there's people lining the street all the way up to the Chantry. It must have been the whole town by that point. Some of them whispered as she passed by. The terms 'Herald' and 'Murderer' reached her ears in equal measure. At least no one seemed concerned about her magic just yet…
Something comes over her when she hears that damned Chancellor yelling. He was trying to put the blame on her, make her the scapegoat. Sure, blame the elf. Not like she has anyone in her corner, such an easy target. But something about it reminds her of her mother yet again. The woman had been dead for years, but somehow Skylar could still conjure her voice in her mind when she needed it most. "The world will try to tell you who you are, what you should be. Be the example of what you want to be. And soon enough, you'll believe it yourself."
She's doing her best impression of Warden Commander Ashalle Tabris when she barges in on their heated meeting. Being the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden never gave her any special perks before, but maybe copying her mother's demeanor could get her through this. She just had to fake it until this nightmare was over…
All she wants to do is punch that sneer right off of the Chancellor's face but logic tells her that it won't solve a damn thing. She's perfectly cordial, giving him not a single reason to continue his hostility towards her. He doesn't relent but neither does she.
Skylar is nearly moved to tears when that Seeker stands up for her. That welled up emotion got even harder to hide when she asked her to stay. It wasn't an order or a mandate, it was an offer. Cassandra was the first human she'd ever met that made her feel like her choice mattered. Skylar was wholly convinced that the Seeker could have easily had her arrested and cuffed up again, but she gave her the choice to help. It went a long way to building a surprisingly easy friendship, despite their vast differences.
She'd never thought of herself as particularly helpful or useful, much less a bloody hero that's going to be set out to fix the damned world…but here she is. It's overwhelming to say the least. Everyone is always looking at her like she stepped out of the very heavens. Even the ones who try to be nice seem to do it in the worst ways sometimes. That ambassador—Josephine, in particular. Every compliment somehow seems back-handed, or just forced and insincere. After a while, she just decides it has to be a product of the shemlen nobility. Josephine does try to be her friend when it counts. She helps her by sending an official letter to her father to explain her new circumstances and extend an invitation, which Skylar was immensely grateful for. She wasn't sure what she was planning to say to him…but she wasn't expecting to hear back from him either…He was probably too drunk to read the damned thing anyway.
Her nights are plagued with terrible dreams. That bald elf—Solas—keeps telling her it's because she's highly untrained with her magic. But every bit of 'help' he offers comes with condescending tones and stories about things that don't and won't ever matter to her. Ancient shit, past glories of generations that had long since died. She takes great pride in showing him exactly how dangerous she can be with her "untrained" magic when he spars with her. It's the small things that remind her that it could be worse. It's at least better than the alienage, although that's not saying much.
The traveling is nice. Her feet are totally riddled with blisters but she's in awe of the world. Logically, she knew it was silly, but a part of her never really believed that there was a world outside the alienage. And every time she gets to watch the sun rise over the mountains, she's so happy to be wrong.
She keeps postponing that damned, hair-brained trip to Val Royeaux. Really, when Josephine suggested it, she had to stop herself from calling her an idiot. What good could that possibly do? Did they all conveniently forget that she's basically the embodiment of everything the Chantry hates? She keeps herself busy with the many demands of the refugees in the hinterlands, playing the selfless hero. She does feel good about helping all of those people, sure. But really, she's doing for purely selfish reasons. Heroes aren't selfish, she would remind herself. She would lie awake some nights plagued by her own self-depreciating thoughts. She wasn't cut out for this. She wasn't who they thought she was.
She's terrified of going to Orlais. She's an elf. A bloody apostate. With a big, scary, green Mark on her hand that does things even she doesn't fully understand. Sure, Cassandra promised to go with her and that was nice…but is she really gonna be enough to protect her from all of those Chantry zealots that want her head?
They finally set off for the trip when there was nothing else that she possibly could have done to stall it. Maker only knew what awaited her in that den of vipers…but she knew that he wouldn't answer her, he never did. But still, she continued to pray throughout that long car ride. Even her sour cream and onion chips and cherry coke brought her no comfort once they crossed the Orlesian border—especially after her phone died and she was forced to listen to the news radio Cassandra insisted on playing. Every mile afterwards felt like impending doom. She wished that the Maker would give her some sort of sign to tell her that she's on the right path, or that she was at least doing the right things. She would have taken anything at that point. A vision of Andraste in her Captain Crunch? An arrow-shaped cloud in the sky? Was a dashing knight in shining armor too much to hope for?
She tried hopelessly to engage herself in her phone once it charged back up, but nothing worked. All of her accounts were now littered with friend requests and personal messages. Even Pinterest seemed to be filled to the brim with new fan art about her and Tumbler and Reddit was aflame with conspiracy theories. She couldn't bloody escape it. If it weren't for her extensive music collection, she might have thrown the damn phone out the window.
Maybe she really did need a knight in shining armor. She wistfully remembers watching a movie about apostates, one where they were able to craft a spell to conjure the perfect man. It's funny in a way, really. The apostates did it so that they could never die of a broken heart, because the perfect man didn't exist. But right now, all she could wish for was having someone strong enough to hold her up, because she felt like she was in constant danger of crumbling down. If only there were a spell for that.