Chapter Text
They’re… confused. That’s the only word they can think of for their current feelings that feel like a swirling pot of pressure and teal, congealing in their chest in a sticky mess. Their head throbs something fierce, green light still flashing behind their eyes when they close them. They don’t focus on that for now, instead focusing on the way the floor is cold through their leggings, trying to take deep breaths like Ari had once taught them. They’d been moved, they remember that, kind of, though they were more asleep than not, but the remembering quickly leaves them as their hand briefly flashes with light, pain lancing up their arm. They’ve never done that before, it feels weird, like something is trying to pull all the little bits of their arm out through their palm. It takes effort to in the stocks that rub their wrists raw, but they turn their hand over, looking at the way there’s new lines that trace over their palm before it lights up again.
This time, they can’t stop the squeak of pain that comes from them, and it alerts whoever is outside of the room - dungeon, they can accept that that’s what it seems to be. The door slams open, and they immediately hunch their shoulders, looking down at their lap where their hands are curled into little fists. They hear the sound of metal scraping on metal and realize that they’d been being watched and hadn’t realized it . They don’t get time to dwell on that though as the two newcomers come to them. A dark haired woman, her face severe and her armor shining in the low light circles around them, and they duck their head further down, enough that they barely see the toes of the other woman’s boots in front of them.
“I want to believe that a child alone couldn’t do all of this destruction. Tell me who you work for and we won’t kill you now.” The voice is accented, and they think vaguely that it sounds like Evie had once described chocolate before she continues. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead… Except for you.” They look up as she comes around to their front again, big grey eyes wide. They’d done nothing like that, they hadn’t killed anyone for sure. They’d been with Ari, and then - and then -
They obviously had taken too long too answer, the woman with dark hair and a chocolate sounding voice grabbing their wrist, tugging it above their head with a too tight grip and a growl.
“Explain this. ” It flares green again, and they don’t know how that happened, how the people that she’s missing died, and can only shake their head, fluffy hair flying around their face.
“You won’t?” They shake their head again, opening and closing their mouth with no words coming out and desperately try to turn to catch the woman’s eyes, mouthing ‘ I can’t ’ at her.
“You’d rather protect a murderer than your own life?” The other woman finally speaks up, sharp eyes staring at them, making them duck their head as they shake ‘no’ again. Her voice sounds like Mint and Snow, and they look back up at her to try and speak. It doesn’t work, the words won’t come up out of their throat, but they can at least mouth ‘ I don’t know ’ to her. The armored woman groans and lets their arm go, even as her red haired companion crouches down in front of them, a strange smile quirking her lips.
“You cannot speak?” It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s easier to nod their head in agreement then to try to explain that words get stuck in their chest and won’t come out through their mouth more often than not.
“Do you remember what happened?” She’s softened her voice a tad, and their eyes drift to the blue of her shawl, their own hands trying to drift to clutch their scarf before realizing that it’s no longer there. Panic rises in them, fizzling over as their hands flutter at their bare collarbones.
‘ My scarf? ’ They try to mouth the words as clearly as they can, relieved when she understands.
“It is safe, I’ll return it to you if you answer my questions.” They nod again, taking a deep breath before shaping out the words, trying to make it as clear as they can.
‘ Green, running. A woman, falling. ’ They lift their shoulders in a shrug, hands still curled against their collarbones, and the redheaded woman nods. She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before the dark haired woman has clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“We don’t have time for this. Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.” Her voice is stern, and she waits until the red head - Leliana? - rises and leaves before she kneels down to undo the stocks around their wrists. They stare at her, hoping to communicate their curiosity to her without words or her looking at their face to see what they’re trying to say. A gloved hand, gently tugging at their arm helps them to stand, and they have to look up to her even when standing, and it makes something crease between her eyebrows to look at them now.
“You really don’t remember what happened?” They shake their head again, and she sighs, moving her hand from their arm to their shoulder, guiding them from the dungeon.
“It will be easier to show you.”
The outside light stings their eyes after so long in the dark, and they raise a hand to shield their eyes for a moment, letting them adjust. It only takes a few blinks before they realize the strange green tint to the world, slowly lowering their hand to stare wide eyed at the wound in the sky.
“We call it ‘The Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” The woman’s voice is steady still, her hand warm firm on their shoulder as she explains. “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave. The one you alone survived.” They wince at the reminder that they’d lived when many others hadn’t, ducking their chin to let their hair cover their eyes, wishing that they still had their scarf to hide in, to protect them.
“Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” They have to blink away tears from their eyes, trying not to imagine the great wound in the sky covering everything in that poison green. As if summoned by the image, their hand begins to glow that same sickly green, pain tearing through them. Knees buckling, they find themself into the snow, biting their lip to stop any noises they would have made. The woman is quickly in front of them, a gentle hand on their arm again, helping them back up.
“Each time the Breach expands, your mark grows … And it is killing you.” She looks almost sad as she says this, idly brushing hair back from their face, and they’re painfully reminded of Ari, telling them that they must go, that they have to leave.
“It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.” Her voice sounds like an apology without the words, and they find themself giving her a short nod, leaning against her side for a moment. Even if they can’t be of much use, they can try to help at least. Even if they die, if they help, it’ll be worth it. Her hand shifts to their back, gently leading them down stairs, through tents. People milling about, harsh words under breaths, and they can feel the poison stares on them.
“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers, and they believe that you have something to do with it’s destruction, as it’s only survivor. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together, and now, they are dead.” Her voice sounds like sour candies Evie had once given them and they want to make that stop. They don’t think they can though, a lot of people died, and she was probably close to some of them.
“We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves. As she did. Until the breach is sealed” They nod at her, though they’re sure she can’t see it as she gestures for the other soldiers to open the great wooden doors at the end of the path. She turns to them, once on the snowy bridge, and stares with dark eyes.
“There will be a trial, I can promise no more.” They nod at this too, because it’s fair, a trial to see if they’re guilty for surviving, though they already feel like it. She stares at them a moment longer before her hand returns to their shoulder, guiding them forwards.
“Come, it it not far.”
There’s - words, explanations, it’s all begun to swirl around their head, too much for them to understand anymore for now. A sponge that’s full of water trying to soak up more, that’s all they are, but they try not to show it. Their hand erupts into pain again, this time drawing a small sound of pain from them, and she pushes them on forwards, only letting them catch their breath. It’s important, that she get them to where she’s taking them, and they keep going, clenching and unclenching their hand, trying to shake the tingles from it. She talks more, something about a temple, about others seeing the Green Lady behind them, but they just can’t absorb it, it’s about all they can do to follow along with her, trying not to trip in the snow in the little shoes that their boots had been replaced with. They miss their boots, their scarf, their coat, instead of these scratchy clothes that aren’t theirs, walking through this snow that isn’t theirs, with a woman who isn’t smokey sharp like Evie or soft and warm like Ari.
The poison green flashes again, breaking the bridge out from under the both of them, rocks and bits of stone cutting into them as they fall. The world spins, dizzying, and they barely make out the knight woman yelling for them to stay behind her over the sound of a gurgling roar and the rush of blood in their ears. The ice is cold under their hands and they focus on that as they push themself up, until the notice the green creeping across the ground in front of them, something in their heart screaming ‘DANGER DANGER, INCOMING.’ It’s been - a long time since they used a weapon, but they frantically back up from the growing glow, grey eyes looking around until they find a broken dagger, the blade snapped at the tip, hilt missing most way. It works though, well enough that they scramble to their feet with it, holding it in front of themself like a sword as the green grows into a monster.
It’s huge and gross, swiping at them with giant claws that they barely dodge, uselessly slashing at the monster with their blade. It hits them, hard enough to send their head ringing again, but they grab onto it’s arm, being pulled up and leaping down on top of it, driving their blade through the thing’s vaguely head shaped area. It releases a terrible shriek before fading into a sickly green glow, motes of light floating away. Where to, they don’t see, falling to the ground again and laying there, trying to regain the air that had been knocked out of them. They stay there, shaking and clutching the broken dagger to their chest until there’s a hand on their back.
“Are alright?” The Knight is back, blood that’s probably not hers splattered on the ice. Her eyes flick to the blade in their hand, becoming hard as she takes it from them and tosses it to the side. “You are a child, you do not need to fight. I … apologize for not keeping a closer eye on you.” They shake their head as they push themself up on the ice, hands and knees cold against the ice in a way that makes their joints ache and their head clear. They tap on her chest plate with the tip of a nail, twice, to make sure they have her attention, before flashing her a thumbs up. She did okay, it’s not her fault, and that’s what they’re trying to say, but it doesn’t seem to make her feel better if they’re reading her face right. She helps them to their feet, before pulling another dagger out of her boot, presenting it to them hilt first.
“I will do my best to protect you, but if I cannot, you do not need to be defenseless.” They gingerly take it with both hands, nodding at her as they tuck it into the belt wrapped around their shirt and receiving one in turn. She hands them a small pouch as well before she continues leading them further.
“Take these potions, you may need them...Actually, take one now, you are looking worse for wear.”
They make it to the small rift ahead, the knight telling them to take cover before she darts into battle. They try to, but the creatures, the ones that come from the green, they don’t want to leave the soldiers to them. It’s easy enough to dart between them, they’re small and fast, uncapping potions as they go and handing them to soldiers that look like they need them, gifted dagger clutched in their unmarked left hand. The closer they get to the rift, the more it smells like sparks and bad memories, but they can’t focus on it, not when the last death rattle of the monsters is ringing behind them and there’s a hand darting to their wrist, lifting it towards the crack. The words that accompany the hand is drowned out of their memory by the strange feeling that follows, power arcing from their hand to the wound, stitching it closed. It explodes like a firework, small green sparks sizzling and then going out in the snow, that hand around their wrist finally loosening. They stare for a moment at their hand, the new marks etched into the skin before looking to the man that had grabbed their wrist.
He’s taller than them, as so many adults are, but his ears are pointed, and they’re reminded of a lamp in Ari’s park with the way the light bounces off his head. They want to know what that was, want to ask what he did, but all that comes from them isn’t words, but a high pitched noise. He arches a brow, crouching down in front of them with a strange smile, almost sad but tickled at the same time.
“Yes?” They bounce on their toes a little, mouthing as clearly as they can ‘ How did you do that? ’
“I did nothing, the credit is all yours.” They look between him, before raising up their marked hand, pointing to it with the other. He nods, before standing so that the others could hear him as well.
“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake - and it seemed I was correct.”
“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”
“Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our Salvation.”
“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” They turn to look at the other man, not dressed like the soldiers or the lady knight or even the pointy eared man, but like someone who had time to kill. They want to ask if he’s cold with his shirt open like that, or if all the chest hair keeps him warm. They also want to ask if he’s done growing or if he managed to cheat the system and get a fuzzy face before that. He’s not much taller than them, something they can judge better as he comes to stand next to them, giving them a smile as he talks.
“Varric Thethras. Rogue, Storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He looks at the Lady Knight as he says this, shooting her a wink that makes them huff out a little laugh. They hold out a hand, smiling when Varric shakes it (and isn’t that strange! His hands are so much bigger than theirs, he must be done growing!) before they turn back to the woman.
“So what now, Seeker?”
“Now we go to meet Leliana.”
“What a great idea!”
“Absolutely not.” She immediately shuts Varric down, moving to stand in front of him with a stern pose and sterner face. “Your help is appreciated Varric, but - ”
“Have you been in the valley lately? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore, you need me. ‘Sides, pretty sure that more hands to watch the little guy would be appreciated.” She doesn’t argue further, making a disgusted noise and turning on her heel to walk a few steps away instead. They turn to follow her before the taller man speaks again, stopping them short.
“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”
“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric seems pleased to bring attention to this feat, and they don’t fail to notice the pleased look on Solas’s face, even as they tug on his pant leg to bring his attention to them, mouthing ‘ Thank you ’ with as much clarity as they can.
“You are most welcome, Little One.” He turns his attention away from them again, back to the knight.
“Cassandra, you should know: The magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your ‘Prisoner’ is no mage. Indeed I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” None of them seem to notice the way the child suddenly shifts nervously at the mention of mages, instead paying attention as Cassandra rallies them on. It takes some help for them to make it over some debris, Cassandra eventually having to pick them up over it instead of waiting for them to be able to scramble over it themself.
“So, Seeker, does your new package not speak or are they just shy?” Varric teases as she walks with them tucked under an arm. She quickly places them back down on more even ground, huffing at the man’s teasing.
“He claims to not speak, and I truly have not yet heard an understandable word from him yet.” They wish they knew what she meant by understandable, but are quickly distracted by a hand clapping them on the back.
“That’s a shame, I’d wanted to know if they had a name or not. I mean, of course they do, even Bianca has a name, but I wanted to be able to write them in as something other than ‘Half Pint the otherwordly child savior.’” Cassandra huffs again, continuing to march as Solas chimes in.
“I too find myself curious. Do you write?” They nod. “Wonderful, once we return to Haven, we could procure you implements to do so, so you’re not without a way to communicate.” Solas and Varric talk amongst themselves as they walk as they think about it. They want to know their name? It’s been a long time since anyone had, even them, and they have to think on what to tell them, how to tell them. Grey eyes finally fall upon Solas’s hands, bare to the cold unlike Cassandra and Varric’s, and they tug on the one that’s not gripping tight to his walking stick.
“Yes?”
“Keep up!” Cassandra calls from ahead of them on the stairs, Varric calling back to her as they pull his hand close to them, placing one of their own on their chest before tracing a shape on his hand. A line, a curve, and then pointing at themself again before repeating it. Solas’s eyebrows furrow as he watches them do this, Varric ahead watching them while still yelling to a stalled Cassandra.
“D?” They nod enthusiastically. “That is your name, simply the letter D?” They nod again, letting go of his hand to let both hands flutter near their collarbones, where their scarf should sit. Varric laughs as he overhears them, grinning broadly.
“I like it! Nice and simple, easy to spell too!” Surrounded by snow and corpses and forced lightness, D smiles softly back.
It had taken a while to get to the forward camp, D hiding behind a rock or Solas when they ran into more demons, holding their own hand to the Rift and letting the power ripple through them as it was closed. They had their own little protection around them, even as their eyes were already drooping, tired from cold and excitement, they watched Cassandra reunite with Leliana. The man in the robes isn’t at all excited to see them, sneering at them as they try and hide behind Cassandra’s bulk.
“As grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” Their face blanches at the word, a hand grabbing at Cassandra’s sleeve as if to physically remind her of her promise that they would at least receive a trial. She keeps that arm near them, stepping forward to sneer at the Chancellor, gesturing with her other hand.
“Order me? You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!”
“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry.” Leliana steps between him and Cassandra, her words sharp to D’s ears.
“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know. She would not want a child put to death.”
“Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on that matter!” He turns his eyes back to them, to their hand faintly glowing that poison green and clutching at Cassandra.
“It shouldn’t even be here. Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” Cassandra steps out of their grip then, leaning on the table between her and Roderick, her voice and posture both offering no argument.
“We can stop this before it’s too late.”
“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple. Even with all your soldiers.” Those three, all working for this Chantry, continue to talk, to argue, as D moves back to stand with Varric, Solas even further back. They let the words wash over them, restlessly knotting their hands in the ends of their shirt. They have a duty now, they can close the rifts, save more people, and they don’t notice that the attention has shifted to them until they are shaking at the pain arcing up their arm once again, the Breach rumbling in time with the ache. Cassandra crouches down, to look into their eyes, and asks:
“How do you think we should proceed?” Her voice is still hard, but not mean, and they hope that their confusion shines through well enough as they look around at the adults around them, then to the mark on their hand. They’re a kid, a dumb one at that, but these people are trusting them with their lives because they stumbled into some sort of weird sky stitching mark on their hand. They can’t betray that trust, and take a deep breath to calm themself before pointing out to the mountain. There’s people there to save, and they can’t just leave them there. They’re trembling from the weight of the decision, Varric saying something next to them that they’re just too full of everything to understand, until there’s a tugging around their neck.
“I do not break my promises.” Leliana smiles, wrapping their scarf around them before leaving to do her duty. They immediately bury their face and hands in the soft blue fabric, relieved by its presence and uncaring for a moment that it probably seems weird for them to be so attached to it. They don’t care though, there’s something in it that makes it feel better, whether the texture, the fact it was Ari’s gift to them, or the charm put on it to protect them, it brings them peace.
The mountain path is cold and hard, the bitter wind robbing all of them of what breath they’d use for idle chatter. D is gasping hard by time they make it to the end, shaking as they close yet another Rift and leaning against Solas’s leg when the man comes up next to them. The man seems startled at first before he takes it in stride, a hand idly resting upon their curls.
“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”
“Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric calls to them from a little ways away as they watch Cassandra help out the Lieutenant, pointing to them when she’s thanked.
“The prisoner?” The Lieutenant’s face is hidden behind her helmet, but even D can hear the confusion in her voice at being faced with the prisoner that had survived a massacre saving her. Cassandra explains where they’re going, sends her on her way, before their band continues on to this temple. D follows along as best they can, listening as Varric asks about the hole in the Fade (the Breach?) and they file it away for later, especially the familiarity of it all. They’re running out of energy as they reach the temple, nearly running into Cassandra in their blind mission of continuing on.
“Cassandra?”
“One of you two, cover his eyes. He may be a prisoner, but a child doesn’t need to see what the temple looks like.” Her voice is troubled, and D blinks slowly at her, trying to parse out what she means until Solas lifts them. They startle for a moment until he speaks again, hand pressing their head into his shoulder.
“Shield your eyes, Little One. I will take you through so you do not trip.” They nod, tossing an arm around the man’s shoulders and burying their face into his shoulder. It’s easy to tune out the talking, the wretched smell that nearly overpowers the smell of forest that clings to Solas, and doze with the motion of him walking. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, D being roused as they’re placed down, green glow taking over their sight. The Breach is so much larger up close, and they’re filled with a disbelief that they’re supposed to stitch that shut when the smaller ones have taken so much out of them. They’re trying to figure out how to maybe get closer, how to fix this, when Leliana shows up, speaking hurriedly with Cassandra. It isn’t until the Seeker places her hand on their shoulder that they return their attention to her.
“This is your chance to end this, are you ready?” The nod, clutching at their scarf for support, and Solas chimes in with the next bit.
“This Rift was the first. Seal it, and perhaps you seal the Breach.” They climb down carefully, keeping an ear out as Varric talks with Cassandra about something called Red Lyrium. They don’t realize that it’s the pretty red stones around them until Varric grabs their wrist to stop them from touching it.
“It’s Evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.” As if summoned by the word ‘Evil’ a deep voice begins to echo around them, sending the rest looking for the source. The source is the Rift, a chill creeping up D’s spine as they listen.
“Keep the sacrifice still.”
“Someone help me!”
“Ma’am?” They startle at the third voice, stepping closer.
“That’s...me?” They don’t realize the words have actually left them until Cassandra is rounding on them, fury in her eyes.
“That was your voice? You said you couldn’t speak! Most Holy called out to you, but...” The Rift and their mark sparks brighter, the light coming together to form an image. A woman in the same red and white robes as the Chancellor but with a fancy hat, a shadow monster looming over her. D watches this in shock, startling as an image of them appears, as they should be, with their own clothes, with their scarf hiding half their face.
“ Ma’am? ”
“ Run while you can, warn them! ” The shadowy figure turns, looking at past D, but they can’t help but feel like he’s talking to them now as well.
“ We have an intruder. Slay the child. ”
“You were there!” Cassandra is grasping at their shoulders, either ignoring or not noticing how they wince when she squeezes too hard. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What were we seeing? Speak! I know you can!” They want to cry at how quickly she’s turned on them, anger sparking in her eyes, and the knife she’d given them burns where it’s tucked into their belt. All they can do is shake their head frantically, mouthing ‘ I don’t know! ’ desperately.
“Echoes of what happened here...The Fade bleeds into this place.” Solas’s words drag her attention away from them, he explains, more words, more things to do, but they’re too tired to process this anymore, not with any level of higher thinking. They’re shutting down, trying to prevent crying at Cassandra’s sudden turn on them, crying because it was their fault that Miss Holy died, that they couldn’t help then, but can now. It’s a task, one to complete, and attempting to follow orders is something they can do in their sleep. There’s yelling, fighting, a bright flash of light. Pain, pain, too much power, ripping their body apart again.
There’s silence