Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day 5(ish?)

I found this notebook in a cave. Next to a skeleton (now lovingly dubbed Mr. Bones) and splashed with what looks like dried blood. Probably Mr. Bones’…Lovely. Despite the Evil dead look to it (complete with ancient runes on the first few pages) I think writing in this thing will help keep me sane.

Let me explain. I woke up five or so days ago under some floating green tear in reality, face a little too close for comfort to a flaming rage monster. I mean normally being within spitting distance of said flaming rage monster is too close for comfort but this was…I could have given Ugly a good morning kiss. That’s how close I was. My first thought was “Holy shit please be a dream.”

That fervent wish was dispelled by a blast of fire from Uggo the wonder demon. I rolled away so it hit my back, smoldering and burning (and would I really feel shit like that if this were a dream?). Not too badly apparently since I haven’t died of infection or collapsed out of sheer pain or anything. (could also be because I’ve been eating what I hope is elfroot nonstop for the past few days)

My next thought was, “I must be fucking losing it.” Because I’ve seen this shit before. On a TV screen. So insane or hallucinating. A second blast of fire singed my side and I was done. 100% done with being fried. I ran, thankfully losing its sluggish ass (and it’s equally terrifying transparent friends) in the woods. And I’ve been wandering around since, haven’t found a hint of civilization yet (aside from Mr. Bones’ ancient camp.) I hope he’s near a road. I could follow that until I reach something or another.

I’ve also had the pleasure of being chased by various forms of wildlife. Wolves, bears, hell I near jumped out of my own skin when a Nug popped out of a nearby bush… (His name is Mr. Nuggins The Terrible and he is a ruthless Nug lord bent on the destruction of all two legged creatures.)

Pathetic I know, but I’m super strung out. I’m stuck in fucking Thedas, Thankfully after the fifth blight. How do I know? There’s a giant green hole in the sky, though it looks like it’s been sealed so that’s a plus. Still, I’m hoping it’s all just in my head and I’m in a padded room somewhere doped the fuck up on drugs or something. But I smell, I hurt everywhere. I’m insanely hungry because I have no food and I’ve been living off of elfroot (I think? Hoping I’m not eating something poisonous. That would suck but also explain how I lost a shit load of weight in a short amount of time), and I have no clean water source. Everything wants to eat me or kill me. I mean evendreams are different. I figured I might be disconnected from the fade since I’m not of this world. But nope. I didn’t choose the fade life, fade life chose me.

Oh and I don’t have my meds. Going cold turkey off meds is the worst thing you could do. Period. Hormones and emotions that are normally suppressed are now running rampant. It sucks.

The good news is I apparently landed here in my Boots and Utes. (Boots and Utilities: Camouflage pants, boots, and a green skivvy shirt for you nonmilitary types) which meant I had my crappy pocket knife (Dull as shit and probably wouldn’t do much in a fight, but enough to be useful) and my wallet. Granted the only things worth anything in my wallet were my family pictures.

Maybe I should introduce myself it’s kinda awkward reading a diary with no idea on who the hell this person even is. Plus if I do die, and someone else from earth finds and reads this, they will know just who the dumbass writing in this creepy ass book was.

Hi there unfortunate former denizen of Earth. My name is Julie Waters, I’m 26. A Sergeant in the Marine Corps, and I am probably going to die here. I mean I was shit at land navigation in boot camp and I kind of become a blank slate when I panic. And I have an anxiety disorder (with no fucking meds to help me regulate it) that will ensure panic is a constant struggle. In retrospect joining the Marine Corps was just a horrible plan. Some days I wish I could go back in time and smack myself for that brilliant life decision.

Anyways. I’m at the point where I am so hungry I have a constant headache and low energy reserves. I just need to find a road or a fucking river. Water would be great right now…. That’s all I want. I might have a chance if I find one of either. God I hope I find something.

Chapter Text

Day 7

I FOUND A ROAD. OMG. And a few more dead bodies (yay)! Is it sad that I’m excited to see corpses (if only because it means free shit)? I snagged a bag, all the coin I could find on the bodies (a few coppers), a wooden tankard and a few other miscellaneous items that would help me out. I found some jerky, a half full water skin and a few hunks of hard bread (Thank the good holy mother of God… one of those hunks of bread lasted like a whole minute). I mean I had a few things in my pockets already but nothing to help me survive.

Anyways, one guy had a map. Would do a bit better if I could read it. Covered in what looks like the same ancient Viking runes I found in the front of this journal. Fuuuck me, I have to learn another language, hoping English equates to common. I figured with the position of the breach I was most likely in the Hinterlands or near Crestwood. No persistent rain so I think Hinterlands is a better guess. Still it would be nice to be able to pin point my exact location on my new map.

I studied it briefly but there are only small sketches of major cities and landmarks. Nothing really marking the hinterlands except some runes that probably spell out ‘hinterlands’.

Still not sure where exactly I should go, which would be a good thing to figure out. Not entirely fond of the idea of showing up randomly at Haven, what would I even do? I mean considering the possibility that they may have been driven out by now, they may be at Skyhold, (fuck that noise, I am not equipped to hike through snowy mountain paths blindly). I mean sure they might help, but… Might is the key word there. I could be seen as a threat, or crazy. Should they believe me, I could seriously alter the timeline/storyline and fuck everything up. Best to just find a mage or two and convince them helping me would be a good idea…

On second thought I have no idea what I am going to do. Is getting home even possible? How the fuck did I get here? Am I the only one? I selfishly hope not.

Still my plan before coming to all these panic inducing revelations was to just survive, get to a town. Then I could think about all the impossible shit that was happening.

Welp. I’m going to go ahead and blame Corypheus and his Horcrux dragon for breaking the world. Fuck him and his bedazzled darkspawn ass.

I’ve taken to sleeping in trees lately. Too many prowling predators around, plus bandits. Not like it’s the best idea to sleep in a tree. Uncomfortable as shit. My ass hurts my back hurts and I have a nearly permanent crick in my neck. But it’s better than sleeping on the ground and waking up to a spider the size of a Prius drooling venom all over you.

Day 8

Note to self: Giant spiders can still climb up trees. Sleep is for the weak.

Chapter Text

Day 9

I did something gross today. I took a dead chick’s clothes. She died of some sort of animal attack, so all her valuables were still on her. I snagged those too. But the gross part…Her skin, oh god I’m gagging thinking about it, some of it peeled off with her leggings. She was decomposing so you know it was bound to happen, but ewwwwwww.

I mean I found a small pond and washed the shit out of them. But I get the heebies just thinking about it. I didn’t want to do it. But I figure I may be less of a target if I dress like I’m from here. Thankfully it fits, a bit big, but it fits. I’m barefoot, my clothes are packed tight in my stolen bag. I’ve lost a lot of weight. I feel like I’m made up of twigs and a stiff breeze could snap me in half. Fuck.

Main reason I did this, even though I swore I would just buy some clothes (wearing dead people stuff is super creepy), was because I encountered some bandits. And by encountered I mean heard them talking. I was in a tree at the time. Trying to get a good view of where I was maybe spy some landmark or another. (Bilbo Baggins the shit outa this)

They passed under me, didn’t even notice I was clinging to the tree trunk. (Thank god…) Apparently their rogues spotted me a few days back, and they noticed my strange dress etc. They were planning on killing me if they couldn’t run me off, didn’t seem to matter why I was dressed weird. Might be the Carta hired mercs posing as bandits. Shit I must be close to the east road or too close to the mining area or something. Which means I may be close to the refugee camp. I can roll with that. Refugee camp will be protected by Inquisition. Safety in numbers. Provisions and someone who can point me in a direction. Still not sure which one I should go in though.

Bright side was I finally got to rinse off today. Same pond as the laundry pond just did my personal rinse before I rinsed the clothes free of dead person. My hair had the last clinging remnants of gel in it. Which is irritating if you’ve ever had to be in field conditions and still need to be presentable. Makes the scalp itchy as shit. So rinsing the hair out and freeing it of all gel was so relieving… Also one of the reasons I stole dead people clothes. Can’t bring myself to leave my hair in an unregulated style in uniform (stupid right? Like no one is around to tear me a new one, but…ahhhhh).

So here I am writing this by the last dredges of sunlight, squinting against the green tinted light that gets stronger as the sun wanes. I’m almost sick of the color green. It used to be my favorite color, but now. Fuck it. I hate it…. Thankfully the Fade isn’t all green and smoggy. It’s colorful if you let it be.

Despite the Giant Spider debacle, I’m probably still safer spending the night in the trees. With mercs around, I’d rather they didn’t trip over me in my sleep. What a way to go.

Chapter Text

Day 11

Firstly my eleventh day in Thedas has been a mixture of ‘amazingly relieving’ and ‘what the fuck’. Mostly feeling the ‘what the fuck’.

Secondly, there are things you think you’d notice about yourself. But I guess if you add panic and confusion to any situation self-realization gets pushed to the back. Let me start from the beginning. With the good shit and end with the not necessarily bad (but really confusing and disorienting) shit.

I am the master of finding things. Fuck yes. Screw counting paces, screw azimuths and screw compasses. Blind fucking luck son, it’s the way to go. I Found the Refugee camp.

I almost kissed a soldier named Gary as I stumbled across a stone bridge and he welcomed me, in god damned English (thank every deity in this fucking reality that he spoke English..or well common I suppose). He offered me a blanket, and some rations; I must’ve looked a sight. Hair was probably wildly escaping the braid I plaited it into, bags under my eyes, scrapes, dirt and probably some blood smeared all over me. I bet he’s seen worse though.

I was about out of jerky and bread, and frankly actual cooked ram’s meat (or nug or whatever) was mouth wateringly amazing. I also got a tiny little apple. Super excited. I’m a fat kid, I enjoy food. Carbs and I have a longstanding on again off again relationship. Apples are like my crack. We grow em up north and my hometown is 90% apple orchards.

 I kind of walked through the main body of the camp in a daze. I was relieved to see Inquisition banners posted at every entrance. Granted I’d already known they were here, because I’d already come face to face with Gary. Gorgeous, wonderful good news bearing Gary.

I apparently have two 'lost in thought' faces, the default of which is resting bitch face. Apparently it’s scary good. The second is lost puppy. This one prompts random people to come up to me and attempt to help me in soft tones of voices and with the least frightening body language. (Which usually confuses me more because I’m usually being broken out of a rather long involved train of thought) I was wearing the second one apparently when I bumped into a rather kindly chantry sister. She inquired after my health, offered me some stew and then given a gentle hug. A hug.

I was a little stiff when receiving that. I have a thing with large crowds and strangers touching me. Bad juju. Like sure, I like hugs as much as the next gal, but not from strangers.

I was pointed to an empty space in a tent by another one of the chantry sisters and dropped my bag next to the cot. There was a young lady kneeling on a nearby cot, Elvhen, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in a neutral colored rough spun dress.

“Andaran atish’an.” She greeted in a lilting accent. Her vallaslin swept across both cheek bones to curve gracefully by her ears.

“Uhm.” I waved awkwardly, “Hi.” I knew she was greeting me in Elvhen, but it was one thing to hear it from a video game and another to hear it from a flesh and blood person in front of you.

“Oh!” She blinked in surprise, and her expression morphed into one of pity. “Ir abelas- I’m sorry! I didn’t realize, you must be from the city.” She stuttered.

“Sorry for what?” I asked, incredulous confusion was contorting my face.  City as in Redcliffe, yes. Perfect give me a backstory. Because from across the fade will not go over well around here.

“I should not have assumed you would know elvhen.” she stopped, hands twisting in her lap.

I shrugged, plopping down on my newly claimed cot with no grace whatsoever. “No harm no foul.” She blinked at me with wide brown eyes, she kinda reminded me of bambi. “I kinda got the gist, just not really used to hearing it is all. Don’t stop speaking your language on my account.” I pressed a hand into the cot, it was just a bag stuffed with straw, it was prickly but much more comfortable that a tree limb.

She was staring at me strangely when I looked back up. “My name is Liwyn.” She introduced herself with a small bob of her head.

I smiled slightly, “Mine’s, Julie.” She looked surprised by my name but someone called her out of the tent before she could voice her thoughts.

“It was nice meeting you, Julie.” She stood and stooped out of the tent with a soft “Dareth shiral.”

I decided against leaving my bag alone and simply lay claim to the cot by ruffling the blankets on it to make it look occupied. I knew there was a vendor here somewhere and after making a few random inquiries I was pointed towards a man with a wagon along the main road.

I dug around and pulled out the few pieces of jewelry I had scrounged up. I was pretty sure I could get a few potions and a couple extra rations in return.

He adamantly tried to fuck me over (with a damn smile too). Asshole. I’m sorry but silver earrings with gem stones embedded in them, a gold necklace and three obviously enchanted rings should not equal only one extra ration and regeneration salve. Fuck you too, jackass. Inflation to the enth degree, I understand. Supply and demand is an easy concept to grasp, but that was fucking ridiculous.

Luckily I learned from the best (and by that I mean trial by fire) If you act nonchalantly about the exchange and they’re desperate for what you have, you can easily attempt to walk from an unfavorable deal and they’ll lower their price/counteroffer considerably just to get the sale. Turns out this worked here, not as well as in Singapore or the Philippines. But well enough that I got a small (and most likely incomplete) first aid kit, two healing potions, and two extra days’ worth of rations.

He looked put upon but I beamed at him. He muttered something that sounded vaguely like it ended with the term ‘knife ear’ and I froze for a minute. He did not just call me a knife ear. I am a human bean damn it. But the more I thought about how people had been treating me since I arrived, and my ridiculously slim physique, the more I started to worry. I waited until I got back to my cot to reach up and touch my ears. They were fucking pointed. What the actual hell.

You’d think you would notice shit like this! Like when washing my hair the other day. I should have noticed that my ears were suddenly pointed. I mean they felt a little sensitive but I was focused on my hair!!!

Its fine Waters. You were born with round ear tips and now have pointy ones. It changes little aside from the ‘oh shit’ factor and the increase on my ‘what the fuck is going on’ meter.

I became rather aware that I was in a tent full of elven women after that. You don’t notice stereotypes or racism until you are subjected to it I suppose.

Most girls would be over the moon to be involved in this Lord of the Rings bullshit, but not me. I just want to go home. I have a dog and three cats, a brother (who I occasionally get along with) and a loving set of parents. My friends back home were like siblings to me. What would I do without them? How was I going-

Drops of water, presumably tears, warp the paper slightly. The hasty, sharp, penmenship breaks off for a few lines. When the writing continues it seems more relaxed.

I won’t lie. I may have broken down a bit after most of the other women left. Cried into a bunched up blanket until I was blotchy and red.

I have finished hyperventilating and soaking my blanket in my sorrow. I mean really it’s not so bad to find out you’re a different race, just shocking. It complicates things a little I’ll admit. A new world, new ears, the only thing convincing me that I am even in my own body is that my tattoos are still where I left them.

I need a mirror or still body of water. It’s too much. I need a day or two to calm the fuck down and adjust.

Who the fuck am I? Will this follow me home?

Chapter Text

Day 14

I spent the last few days wallowing, Liwyn started hovering after the first day. The second she nearly called a healer. I’ve slept more in the past few days than I have in the week that I was lost in the Hinterlands. I never thought I would be sick of sleep.

My dreams were relatively tame. I don't have much drive to explore the fade and have only encountered two spirits. Both wisps.

I’m sitting on a wall up at one of the highest portions of the crossroads. There are a lot of people here. I don’t think the game accurately portrayed how vast the camp was. The smell of unwashed people and death hangs thick. You don’t notice until you get a little distance, where the air is cleaner. There are a lot of kids too. Almost all of them are orphans. The chantry sisters herd them around like lambs for the most part.

I need to get off my ass. I need to do something small. It helps me start moving, start powering through. It’s like a snow ball effect, I used to start myself off with something like laundry or dishes at home. It was such a struggle to finish that small task, but by the end I would start cleaning like a woman possessed. Or I would pick up some small craft or another and end up finishing several I’d been pushing off for months.

Think Waters. I need some thing to kick myself back into motion. Something small but skill building would be great. I need knowledge if I’m going to live more than a month on my own. I can’t stay in this camp forever.

I spied a few mages hauling in baskets of plants a ltitle while ago. They look like they’re making poultices and potions. Good start, even if they only have me doing leg work.

Chapter Text

Day 15

They did indeed have me fetching herbs from surrounding fields. We had a small contingency of guards with us when we went, which was reassuring. I found out I had been munching on Elfroot (which is a relief) to survive. This is also why my burn healed up quickly. I think there’s a scar there still. But I’m fine with that. Scars tell stories. Most of mine say I’m careless with sharp shit. I’m ruined as a hand model.

I was educated by the chantry sister (The one who hugged me yesterday, her name is Hellen) on a how to identify a few different herbs. Embrium, Rashvine (which scarcely grows around here), Spindleweed and Elfroot. She started going into practical applications too. I may be able to talk her into teaching me how to actually make the poultices and potions she was talking about. Handy skill, that.

We ran into a hunter on our way back in and I think I found my next Best friend victim Mentor. Hunting or fishing or something would come in extremely useful for when I strike out on my own. I think I’ll also need to find someone willing to teach me how to fight.

I need more than the bare basic martial art skills they teach us in the Marine Corps. Granted I made my way to black belt but that was two years ago, and I’ve not had practical experience with the moves outside of friendly sparring (again two years ago). I could maybe get out of a hug if I was truly uncomfortable, or put a man in an arm bar…maybe. But disarming an opponent with a sword and shield? Fuck no. I would last two seconds against an armed opponent out here (and only because I would be beating a tactical retreat at the time).

I scared the shit out of Liwyn today, too. She helps out in the healing tents. I went to deliver a basket of herbs that some inquisition scouts had gathered and given to the chantry sisters. She turned as I was placing it by the front flap, out of the way. She jumped and I’m pretty sure she cussed in Elvhen. I’ll have to ask her what she said later. Never too late to expand ones vocabulary.

“You startled me!” she scolded me, coming over to retrieve the basket and holding it to her chest like it would still her racing heart.

“Sorry,” I apologized with a shrug. I was losing the fight to hold back a grin. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

She waved me off looking amused before moving further into the tent. I think she’s just happy to see me up and about again. I took my leave after that, made my way to the Chantry sisters to see if they would let me watch them make poultices. From what little I've seen so far, It looks easy enough. But I won’t know until I get elbows deep in the process. It’s how I learn best. Hands on experience. Stick me in a classroom or lecture, I’ll fall asleep or start daydreaming. Actually doing it, that’s where the interest is. I’m pretty good with my hands.

I’m glad I’m out and about. Trying to keep myself from thinking things over too much. Mindless work can be horrible for that, needed to redirect my thoughts a few times today, felt myself on the verge of tears. I hate crying in front of people. They tend to want to hug you and tell you everything will be fine or whatever. I just want to be left alone. Hellen saw my watery eyes today and looked on the verge of whisking me away for some serious hugging.

Note to self: Must avoid crying in front of Hellen or drown in eternal mothering hugs.

Chapter Text

Day 16

So I spoke with Dan today, he’s the hunter whose been going out a little ways to try and hunt for the camp. He’s not making much progress since there are still open rifts all over the place and there are straggling mages and Templars fighting in the hills.

He’s a pretty brusque dude. I like him. I like people who are bristly; they tend to throw people off, and are usually pretty honest. “What do you want?” he asked me gruffly as I tentatively approached. My courage is scattered to the winds right now, strangers no matter how friendly make me nervous. I twisted my hands in the hem of my tunic.

“Oh Hi,” I started, doing my awkward circular wrist wave. It was almost like an aborted Pocahontas looking movement.  “I was informed that you were a hunter-“

“I don’t have any food, sorry.” He cut me off crouching down beside his pack as he loosened a leather roll from the side. “You could try asking the inquisition soldiers for some rations.”

I choked back a surprised sound, “I’m not looking for handouts-“

“Then what in Andraste’s  holy name do you want?” He cut me off again. I admired his straight forwardness and gathered my own courage to spit out what I wanted.

“I need you to teach me.” I blurted out, leaning forward a bit as if it would help the words out of my mouth.

He looked surprised as he flipped the rolled piece of leather open revealing a set of wicked knives. “Teach you?” I nodded relieved that I’d gotten it out at least.

 “To hunt.” I clarified. He sat back brows raised.

“I know what you meant.” He shot back, not unkindly. He considered it for a long moment. “How are you with a bow?” I shrugged, “Knives?”

I shrugged again sheepishly this time, “I know to stick things with the pointy end.” thanks for that line Arya.

He snorted at that, corners of his eyes crinkling, “Maker's balls.” He ran a hand over his face. “Come back tomorrow we’ll see which you’re better suited for.”

“Thank you!” I responded eagerly (bounced on my toes like a loon too) as he waved me off with a grunt and began pulling out knives and inspecting them closely.

I was walking on air as I checked in with Hellen to see if they were brewing anything. I was immediately scolded for my poor wording choice. “Mixing, dear. We’re not witches.”

“So are you concocting anything today?” I countered just to be ornery. I was given a mildly amused shake of the head and a negative answer. The healers tents were well equipped and we were a little too low on Elfroot apparently. Noone was scheduled to leave for a resupply anytime soon either. Damn.

I spent the rest of the afternoon people watching from my perch above the main camp, rations balanced on one knee, journal on the other.

Chapter Text

Day 19

My arms hurt so fucking much. So does my back and…. my everything. My everything hurts. I’ve been working with Dan for the past few days. That man is a slave driver. Today is my “Day off”.

He’s had me awake before the sun rises for the past few days (despite my protests than not even the Maker was awake at that time of morning), and sent me to bed well after it sets. He found that I’m much more proficient with knives than a bow (His exact words were “Less likely to take an eye out.” And then he revoked that statement when I showed just how prone to stabbing myself I could be). But bows are  much more efficient when it came to hunting. So he’s been teaching me how to skin and trap, and we have archery lessons set up as well. I’m fine with drawing the bowstring back, but it’s the aiming that’s doing me in. I’ve hit the very edge of the target…once. I can’t even guess at how many arrows I’ve fired by now. Hundreds probably. My fingers ache like it was hundreds. And I’ve only hit once.

It’s tiring work, back breaking almost. He noticed how worn I was yesterday when I nearly shore off my knuckle while skinning a nug. (Who I firmly believe is the same Nug that scared me a few days ago. Take that Sir Nuggins the Terrible, your reign of terror has come to an end) I think it also had to do with my skyrocketing irritation levels. This is a typical side effect of going cold turkey off those meds of mine. I am only surprised that it took so long for this to happen. Thankfully I have avoided snapping at anyone. Stopped archery practice to take a short walk and remember to breath, sure. But haven’t snapped at anyone yet….

I slept in this morning and was on my way to eat my rations at my lookout spot when Liwyn snagged me by the elbow and sat me down in front of a fire surrounded by dalish elves. At least they all had Vallaslin, so I assumed they were dalish or followed the old ways at the very least. I got a chorus of tired ‘Andaran atish’an’s and good mornings.

Liwyn sat gracefully to my left with a satisfied smile as she stuffed a crude bowl filled with what looked like grits into my hands. “You’re almost always working or alone.” She stated by way of explanation, “It’s concerning.”

I opened my mouth to argue that I liked being alone thank-you-very-much, but snapped it shut when she narrowed her large brown eyes at me. She turned to gesture to the other three elves around the dwindling fire. “This is Thresas,” she gestured towards an older elf with thick black mask like markings across his face. Reminding me of a Venetian mask (I guess here it would be an Orlesian mask) or one of those half and half theater masks. His black short cropped hair was peppered with grey and his eyes were kind and friendly. “His wife Danyll,” another female elf, a braid very much like a corn row plaited towards the back of her head on one side, the hair below it was shorn buzz-cut short. Her hair was a dark brown and she was much darker than most of the other elves I’d encountered so far. The hilts of dual blades peaked out from behind her shoulders, she smirked dangerously. She had a tree like Vallaslin spreading across her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. The roots twined down her chin. “And Piriel.” He was the oldest in the group, grey hair braided intricately, stooped shoulders and grey, half blind eyes. His blood markings were faint but thick and blue like veins. The twining lines framed his weathered face.

He smiled warmly in my direction. “Andaran atish’an, Dal’en.” He greeted.

I parroted the phrase back with a head bob (almost called him Dal'end right back, whoops!); Liwyn smothered a smile with her hand. “I’m Julie.” I introduced nervously, crossing my ankles and digging the tips of my toes in the dirt nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I suffered through some of the usual questions, (Where was I from? Where was my clan? My Husband? How was I not married yet? Why was I all alone in the Hinterlands?) and gave some generic answers. They were kind enough not to pry further. The only question that gave me pause was when Liwyn huffed in amusement at something I said, and Danyll blurted out (in what I suspect was her typical tactless fashion), “Are you elvhen blooded? You speak and act like a human but look like an elf. Even your name is human.”

“So rude, ma vehnan.” Her husband groaned, running a hand down his face in exasperation.

She kicked at his ankle in annoyance, “It was an honest question, Thresas.” She turned curious eyes to me. “Not that it matters, just curious.” They were so cute together

“I’m not sure myself. I was raised by humans.” I answered honestly. Because as far as I knew my parents were 100% human. And this elfy shite was new to me. Besides I think I’d notice if they had pointy ears.

“Humans raised you?” Liwyn exclaimed in surprise leaning so she could peer at me. “As their own?”

I should have expected that, it wasn’t common for elves to be treated as equals. So to hear that I was raised by humans must have been shocking. I nodded, nostalgia was creeping up on me. I smiled, setting my now empty bowl in my lap. “I had a younger brother too. He was human; they had him five years after they…found me.” found sounded like the right word.

“Where are they, now?”Thresas inquired, taking his wife’s empty bowl from her.

“I don’t,” I made a distressed noise and ran a hand over my head. I had pulled my hair back into a messy bun. I desperately needed a bath. “I don’t know. I left to find work, and then something happened, I lost contact with them- They’re not- I can’t.” Tears started pooling in my eyes and I made an aggravated noise and attempted to blink them away. “Aghh. Damnit.” I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes and leaned back on the bench.

A large hand landed on my shoulder and I blinked up at Piriel’s kind face. “It’s okay to mourn Dal’en.” Liwyn was standing, muttering something to the elder Elvhen. Thresas was all but dragging his wife away by the elbow.

“I know.” I answered sniffling as I tried to regain control. “I know, I just hate crying in public. People get touchy and huggy and-“ I grunted and flailed my hands. He chuckled and eased down into Liwyn’s abandoned spot. "Thanks."

We sat in companionable silence for a short moment before I blurted out a question that had weighed on my mind for a long time. “What do the blood markings stand for? I know they honor gods, but which ones honor which?” granted I knew what they really were, but best not to argue with the nice Ha’hren who comforted you when you started crying. Plus it would help take my mind off of family.

He hummed, a smile tilting his lips at the question. “Well my Vallaslin represents June. The God of the craft.” The next twenty minutes I composed myself as he sketched the different designs in the dirt and told me which stood for which elvhen god. Liwyn’s and Danyll’s both stood for Mythal apparently. And Thresas’ stood for Elgar’nan, the god of vengeance. (There’s a story there. He’s far too nice to wear the mark of the god of vengeance for no reason.)

“I would gladly continue this conversation at another time, Dal’en.” Piriel ended the lecture kindly. He has places to be I gather.

I nodded and stood with him. “I’ll try to think up more questions for later.”

“In the meantime, take today to relax. Being busy is good, but the body and mind need rest as well.” He smiled and walked off in the direction of the healers tents.

I let out a breath, feeling a little more knowledgeable and a lot less teary eyed. No more dwelling on family. Knock it off Waters.

This is the first day I’ve had where I was told not to do anything for anyone else at all. I have no idea what to do with myself. I sifted through my things noting with some trepidation it looked as though someone had attempted to rifle through them already, carefully (but not carefully enough) putting everything back. My skivvies had been placed under my Cammie pants instead of over like when I packed the bag. I knew they found little else besides my clothing that may have raised questions; I kept the rest of my valuables on my person just in case. Still someone had been snooping. I quickly repacked my bag and rifled through one of my belt pouches. I had made a little coin over the past few days. The chantry sisters had pressed a sovereign into my palm for helping gather herbs, Dan had given me three silvers for helping him sharpen his carving blades (I nearly argued with the man over it too). Along with the coppers I already had, and the nug skins I could feasibly sell (they weren’t too badly mangled from my amateur skinning skills) I felt like checking out the vendor again. Shop therapy I suppose.

I poked about his wares, noting with some satisfaction that he had changed his tune with me (somewhat). I guess showing that I was a savvy negotiator (or you know stubborn as hell) once was enough to make him a little less prone to trying to rip me off. I ended up buying two iron daggers. They were chipped, old and probably unbalanced, but felt alright in my hand. The price was good for them (which meant: under one sovereign. He's probably trying to get rid of them) and the tips sharp enough to prick my fingertip with very little pressure. Better than my flimsy pocket knife.

I sat by the fire where the chantry sisters had set up shop and pulled a whetstone from one of my pouch pockets, slowly I began running it over the blade, listening to the conversations around me. I had done very little intel gathering since I’d been here.

The amount of info I gleaned from just sitting there an hour or so was astounding. The Inquisition was still at Haven, the breach had yet to be sealed completely. The Herald of Andraste was a Qunari apostate, if rumor was to be believed she was seven feet tall and as broad as a barn. Well at least I knew they would be hard to miss when they came through. I also caught a reading and writing lesson. The sisters were teaching the kids their alphabet. I may try to sit in on those discretely if I can find time. Reading is something I miss dearly.

There are messy runes scrawled out in lines across the bottom of the page, presumed English equivalents scrawled beneath them

Hope I’m getting this right. Also hoping grammar and sentence structure isn’t too different.  Guess I know what I’m doing with the rest of my day.

Chapter Text

Day 20

Today was another “day off”. Dan shooed me off when I showed up by his fire this morning. Telling me I “needed to rest.”

“I’m fine.” I insisted, why was everyone telling me to rest and relax? We were in a refugee camp in the middle of a war.

He shook his head a bit and drew me into an awkward one armed hug. “I have to go out into the hills for a few days anyways. You’re not ready for that yet.” I suspect Piriel had a word or two with him yesterday. That sneaky Ha’hren…. “Find someone else to bother while I’m gone, won’t you.”

There’s a waterfall by my lookout spot, it looks like it runs somewhere underground. I don’t think I mentioned it. Its part of the reason I like sitting up there so much. It drowns out the hustle and bustle of the camp below. I swung my feet over the wall they had built around the fall, and stuck them into the current. My feet were so dirty by that point that they were practically pitch black on the bottoms. Dirt cracking and drying my skin. Ugh.

I miss twenty first century hygiene. I miss regular showers and brushing my teeth. I would say I missed shaving, but apparently Elves don’t grow hair all over like Humans do. Upside to being an elf right there.

I think I’ll try seeing if there’s some sort of tub around and try to get a bath in tod- A long line of ink runs horizontally to the side of the page as if the hand holding writing implement were dragged involuntarily across it.

Well…that was... Sorry about that, Danyll scared the shit out of me. Woman came up all cloaked in shadows and everything and snagged this blasted thing right out of my hands.

“Hey there Jules.” There went my journal, “Whatcha working on?”

“Holy Shit!” I nearly slipped into the falls (which probably went down to the deep roads or something).

“Wow!” She stated as I regained my balance and whirled so my feet were on solid ground again. “You’re really good at drawing aren’t you, Da’len?” She said Da’len in a teasing tone. The woman wasn’t much older than I was. “And this script, I’ve never seen anything like it. What language is this?”

“English.” I huffed and held out a hand for the journal, I was ignored. She flipped through the pages making a surprised noise when she came across some small doodles of Vallaslin a few pages back.

“Never heard of it.” She replied absently, flipping back to the beginning, snorting at what she found and then closing it with a snap and finally handing it back to me.

“I figured.” I sighed and touched my hair with a grimace, noting she looked far too clean to have been living in this camp without bathing facilities for as long as she presumably has. “I’m trying to puzzle out how to read and write common but its slow going.” She made a noncommittal noise at that, hopping up to crouch next to me on the wall. “So I doubt you came up here just to see what I was writing, what’s up?”

She smirked at me. “Oh you are clever.” She lowered herself to sit next to me, face full of mischief. “I actually came to clue you in on a little secret. Elves only.” She wiggled her brows and ducked her head down next to my ear. “We’ve located a cask if you’d like to clean up a bit.”

Woman must be a mind reader. I’m certain. I hugged her, nearly overbalanced both of us over the wall.

Turns out the Chantry sisters had been given a cask in their cottage, and Elves had been using it under the guise of running errands or tidying up for them. Danyll stood watch by the door as I shirked my leggings and tunic and sank into luke warm but fresh bath water. She whistled from behind me a low appreciative sound. “That’s one hell of a burn on your back.”

I dunked myself under quickly, using some soaps that were next to the tub to scrub at myself. “Not really. Just an unfortunate brush with a rage demon a few weeks ago.” I dunked under again and quickly scrubbed my scalp and hair.

“Wait only a few weeks ago? And you didn’t get it looked at?” the Dalish woman sounded concerned.

“No? I mean it doesn’t hurt and I haven’t died of infection yet. Figured It was fine.” I paused in my feverish scrubbing to look at her from over my shoulder. She was staring at me with wide eyes.

“It’s huge, Da’len.” She stated seriously, not teasing with the endearment this time. "It looks like it was really bad, I’m surprised you didn’t die of infection.”

“Oh.” Well that’s sobering. “How big…” I spread my hands out over my upper back. My skin felt bubbly and wrinkled in a way I would have never guessed. It went all the way across my shoulders and midway down my back. I couldn’t think of anything to say after that I hurriedly scrubbed at my legs before lifting myself out of the tub.

Looking back on what I’ve written now, I glossed over the damages done to my uniform. I was much more focused on the bandits and dead chick. My shirt had been rather torn up in the back, burned, and full of holes. It was on its last leg. For some reason I just never thought my back would be similarly fucked up. Therefore because I didn't feel pain, I didn't go see a healer about it.

Must be a Military thing. We tend to hold off on telling anyone about out injuries or issues until the pain becomes unbearable. I knew a girl who snapped her femur and decided she was going to finish the obstacle course she was running despite the pain. She did too. With a broken femur.

I quickly towel off my body. Sputtering when Danyll tossed new clothes at me. “Hurry up, I think I see sister Hellen coming.” She hissed. I tugged on the clean small clothes (Thank god I hate wearing underwear for more than a day in a row if I can help it) and followed that up with new dark leather leggings.

As I was tugging the dark green shirt over my still wet head, I caught sight of myself in a small warped wall mirror by the cask. No wonder everyone was telling me to rest and relax, holy hell I looked exhausted. Bags were visible beneath my eyes, making my mocha complexion seem lighter more sallow than it was. My hair was like I remembered, long black and thick, falling past my shoulders. It had already started forming into the familiar (and eternally frustrating) corkscrew curls.

But what peaked out from beneath the curls really drew my attention. My ears had elongated into fine tips, at least an inch longer than they used to be. They were elegant looking but alien attached to my rounded face. “Hurry up!” Danyll snapped and I shook off my own fascination and snagged my bag and old clothes.

We slipped around the back of the hut and snuck back to our small fire to finish drying off. “You nearly got us caught! All for a minute of preening.” Danyll groused, humor lacing her tone. “It’s like you’ve never seen yourself before.”

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “I-“ I cleared my throat nervously. “I haven’t.”

“Oh….” She shifted uncomfortably. I could tell she wasn’t a touchy feely type of woman. “Well Piriel will want to have a look at that scarring. It’s still new, and looked a little irritated.” She watched as I finished toweling off my hair and started combing through it with my fingers, picking apart snarls as I went.

“But it’s fine.” I argued, not intent on having someone else poking at an old injury.

“It will ease his mind I think to know.” She insisted and I sighed grumbling in agreement. After I had pulled my hair into a messy bun we set off for the healing tents.

Piriel did end up wanting to poke at it, sending a cooling wash of what I could only guess was magic over the old wound. “You burned the feeling out of our back.” He scoldingly informed me. “This looks like you got it two months ago however, not two weeks ago. From where did you receive healing?”

I twisted to look at him as he handed my tunic back to me, “I didn’t.” I pulled the garment on again, “I ate a lot of elfroot though.” I added as an afterthought. He said something in Elvhen (sounding a lot like a curse) that made Danyll snicker.

“You were lucky, Da’len.” He stood in front of me, brows drawing together and lips pursed, “You could have died of infection.”

“But I didn’t.” I argued in a small voice.

He sighed. “No you didn’t.” He paced away as a young soldier, Inquisition by the armor design, was brought into the tent. “I would ask you to be more careful in the future however.”

Danyll left me to my own devices after that (for a while anyways). I went back up to my lookout for a few hours, content to let the white noise wash over me.

She found me there hours later and thrust my hand me down dual blades into my lap. “I’m going to teach you to use these.” She said, determination dripping from her tone. “Liwyn says you’ll make a good rogue, and with better blades I think you might.”

I frowned at her, “What’s wrong with my blades?!”

She scoffed and helped me to my feet, all but dragging me out to a small unused field near the main camp. I don’t think she ever really answered, but then I already knew they were kind of crap anyhow. She showed me stances, movements and basic blows and parries. I’m sore again tonight, but it’s a good sore. Maybe I’ll survive through the month afterall.

Chapter Text

Day 23

Three weeks since I landed in Thedas. Nearing a month of continued survival. Color me impressed. Dan’s hunting party hasn’t returned yet, but I’m being told that it’s normal for hunting to go for days at a time. Doesn’t make me feel any better or worry any less.

So onto slightly less worrisome subjects! Lessons in roguery are off to a wonderful start. I’ve learned how to use smoke bombs (WHICH ARE AWESOME) and I’ve managed to become invisible. There were some….complications at first. I was see through but you could still tell I was there the first time I tried. Danyll almost fell over she was laughing so hard. Said she’d never seen anyone screw up stealth magics before. (Its harder than it looks trust me.) I fixed it though and I can now make myself disappear like a god damn wizard. I was impressed I was actually able to do it at all to be honest. Not being from Thedas I expected not to be able to walk the fade, not to be able to do anything special. But I was wrong. Must be another perk that came with the new ears?

 I’m making progress with my blade work already, Danyll seems impressed with how quickly I’ve picked up most of the movements. She says I might last three seconds in a sparring session with her at this rate. Isn’t she bracing? She has started talking about trap making (which Dan’s already started on and apparently I’m pretty good at that) lock picking and pick pocketing.

While I’m on the subject of my dalish friends I’ve noticed something kind of weird. Not in a bad way, just in a way that makes you think on it semi suspiciously I guess.

Every time I wander off someone intervenes in some way or another. For instance. I went to go track down Gary and ask after Dan’s hunting party and Thresas magically appeared from the shadows before I could get more than 100 yards from the tent and gently led me off (Like hand on the small of my back old timey escort hold) towards the archery targets to, and I quote, “See what the shems taught me so far.” Or if I try to sneak my (Yep I have to sneak off now) rations to the lookout, suddenly Danyll is there, looping elbows and dragging me towards the fire talking about some mischief or another.

Just this morning I went to watch the mages brew potions (because damn it Sister Hellen that’s what you do with potions you brew them) Liwyn pops her head out from the healer’s tent and asks me to help her bandage a few soldiers that got caught in an ambush. Piriel smiled all secretive to himself the whole time which tells me something is definitely up. Sneaky, sneaky Ha’hren.

It’s infuriating. I’ve never had this problem before. I like my alone time damnit. Maybe they think I’m too reclusive?

Today I managed to go half the day without being snatched up by Danyll. Maybe because she was giving me a break from training. Using sneak magic has helped a bit too I bet. I moved from my normal reclusive getaway so that might have helped too. There’s a hut with grass on its roof that you can easily climb on top of. That’s where I was sitting. I just need to be by myself for a while. So long as I sat still I remain invisible. (the amount of concentration it takes to do so while moving is enormous, but I’ll get there eventually)

I returned to camp to find Thresas waiting for me. He gave me some coal sticks for drawing. “Danyll told me of your ink sketches.” He said with a smile as I turned them over in my hands. “I thought maybe this would make it easier to sketch.” I smiled at him. Really he is way too sweet to wear the god of vengeance’s vallaslin on his face.

“Thresas!” I hugged the man tightly. “Thank you.” He chuckled and patted my back as I awkwardly released him and hopped back a step or two. “I’m sorry I disappeared today, I just need some time.” I explained, feeling a little guilty for my extended absence in the face of the thoughtful gift.

“I know we’ve been a little-“ he trailed off in thought, “smothering.” He summed up with a grimace. “You just seem so sad, and look so lost.”

Danyll popped up from behind me, not from shadows just regular old sneakiness involved. “What my husband means to say is that we’re adopting you.” She skirted by us elegantly before lowering herself next to the fire, a bowl of stew cradled in her hands. Thresas sighed woefully, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m twenty six.” I informed her, “A little old to be adopted don’t you think?”

“Nonsense.” Piriel passed us pressing a bowl into my hands as he did so. “One is never too old to find family.”

The elvhen woman snorted and waved her hand flippantly, “Too late, Da’len. It’s already done.”

“Hey, where’s mine?” Thresas inquired of his wife, looking pointedly at the bowl in my hands.

Danyll smirked around the rim of her bowl, “You’re legs aren’t broken, oh great hunter.” She replied, voice thick with her usual mocking humor. “Go fetch your own.” He made an annoyed sound that was easily undermined by the fond smile on his face as he did just that.

Liwyn knocked shoulders with me, “Come sit Da’len.”

I know I like my alone time, and sometimes people can be a bit much for me, but nothing compares to the warmth in your heart when you realize people give a damn about you. The lingering feeling of belonging is….

On another note, apparently the Inquisitor is making her way back to the camp. Everyone is all up in arms about it. Word of mouth was, last time she came through she ripped four Templars in half, at the same time. I want to know who is in charge of the rumor mill, because they do some mighty impressive embellishing.

Chapter Text

Day 26

The inquisition are still building the watch towers in the Hinterlands for horse master Dennit. We had no forewarning. The Templars attacked two days ago, in the midafternoon. There must’ve been fifty of them, easy. It was a massive force compared to the inquisitions thirty man vanguard (most of whom were just kids, new recruits.)

I was in a far field with Thresas and Danyll, working on archery. It was a nice day, sunny, a couple clouds in the sky, perfect wind at our backs for shooting. Then the sound of screaming and metal clashing made its way to our ears.

“Julie,” Thresas’ voice was firm, almost as if he was a different person. Blood was pounding in my ears, and my knuckles were probably white with how tightly I was holding his bow. He gently pried it from my grip. “Da’len. Hide here, we will come for you when the attack is over.” Danyll was already invisible, I could see some grass moving ever so slightly against the wind as she made her way towards the main camp. I nodded distractedly, my mind was blank, I was panicking. He hugged me firmly before pushing me off towards the tree line. “In the trees, quickly.”

I was half way to the tree line when a woman, on fire (she was on fucking fire) hurtled into the field a yard or so in front of me. I felt the panic begin to wear off as I started running to help her (I don’t know how, maybe tackled her, and rolled her in the dirt until the flames went out). Three well aimed arrows beat me to her and she fell with a keening death knell. I turned shocked eyes to where the shots had been fired, a small squad of Templars stood on the rise. The warriors of their group charging down into the field while the archer knocked another arrow. This one was no doubt meant for me. The Marine in me finally kicked in at this point, I went from panicked to pissed the fuck off. The one roaring thought in my head was “How dare they.”

I don’t remember activating my stealth magic. I also don’t remember how I managed to keep myself invisible until I reached that fucking archer. But I do remember grabbing the man by his leather chest plate and slashing at him over and over again until blood soaked my face and one of my blades. I remember the warriors who had started down into the field turning to see the body of their rogue drop dead at my feet. And I remember Inquisition soldiers flanking them as I retreated back towards the camp. I had to find my friends. My head was pounding I was so angry. So worried.

The main camp…it was a massacre. Children, women, men healers, even chantry sisters were laying on the ground. Blood seemed to stain everything. The Templars were crushing us. I stumbled over a body and nearly sobbed when I recognized the face, Piriel. He was curled around the body of a small child. I stumbled away, shaking my head, rage and sorrow all consuming. As I made my way further into the camp, towards the sounds of fighting, dodging fleeing people as I went (that’s a bit liberal, I knocked into a few, was knocked to the ground. I was in a haze) I caught sight of Liwyn, intestines spilled on the packed dirt road. Thresas, slumped over the Danyll’s too still too pale body. Sister Hellen…

A Templar lunged from my left and it was all I could do to stumble backwards. His blade caught my tunic, His blade hit my ribcage on the follow through swing. It parted from my body with a slurping sound. Everything slowed down as he flourished his weapon. Preparing for the finishing blow. Suddenly Gary was there, sword parrying his next blow and he drove him back.

I had dropped to my knees at some point, hands were on my shoulders, a semi familiar face was far too close, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I’m going to heal you, hold on!” A mage then. Cooling magic made the world light up. She was talking, almost nonstop while she healed my side. “Stick with me, okay? You’ll be fine just breathe. Oh God Jessica just breathe.That’s a lot of blood-“

I could feel my eyes start searching her face. I knew that voice. I knew that name. Her face was different but the same. Oval, with sharp cheekbones, Grey skin tone, but the same wavy brown hair and the same warm brown eyes. One portion of her hairline stuck in that eternal stubborn curl.

“Concentrate on the wound, Lady Lemire.” A cultured, lilting voice cut into her ramblings from somewhere to my left.

She scowled, it was her. It had to be her. “I’m trying, Solas! You just focus on lighting Templars on fire!” It was definitely her.

“Jessie?” It slipped out. Sounded far more pitiful than I would like to admit. The healing was working, I was exhausted but felt little more than a dull ache where the blade had torn me open.

Her eyes widened in recognition, “Oh my- Julie?!” the world tunneled and tilted sideways. I fainted. But will insist it was injury related until the day I die.

I woke up two days later in an Inquisition camp with a nerve wracked Qunari Herald of Andraste bent over me. “You’re awake! Oh thank go-the maker!” She gripped my hands tightly and I felt tears well up in my eyes. “It is you right?”

“We’ve been friends for nearly twelve years.” I rattled out as she tried to contain her own tears, “I’m honestly insulted you had to ask.”

Chapter Text

Day 30

I slipped out of the healer’s tent, they have a few chantry sisters watching the injured, and they’re not very vigilant. Probably used to people who want to stay in bed and heal. I’m fine. I have a pale scar along my ribs, bisecting one of my tattoos. Looks like the injury happened years ago. My ribs are still sore (probably bruised) but fine.

I was fortunate that I had my bag on me the day that I lost

Jess and I spoke a little before a healer came into the tent and forced a tonic down my throat. God that was like four days ago now. It feels like longer.  We talked about everything. How we woke up where we woke up, the people we’ve encountered so far. (Jess has already recruited most of her the companions Dorian, Iron Bull and Cole being the only ones left) I’m not ashamed to have burst into tears in front of her when I started talking about the people I had just lost (Which was part of the reason a Healer stuffed tonics down my throat in the first place). She’s one of the few people I know won’t pity me when I cry.

She had stopped in at the camp on her way to Redcliff. Initial meeting with the Grand Enchanter from the sounds of it. Travelling with a large contingency of troops, mostly injured and field worn. They’d been relieved of their posts and were on their way to Haven for a rest period. Jess had been gone the next afternoon when I’d struggled back into consciousness. I was in the back of a wagon with other injured refugees and soldiers. We were a few days out from Haven then. Now I’m curled against the post of a wooden dock below the training fields trying to keep myself glued together.

I didn’t get to warn Jess of what would happen in Redcliff. She’d never played the dragon age games. Then again I didn’t know how revealing all the hardships she would face would affect future events. Was it better to know or deal with changes as they happened? I know I can’t keep it from her. Not really. Still….the implications. Do her companions know she isn’t from this dimension? Has she told anyone? Did they believe her?

I miss them. My friends, my family. I miss Jess; now that I know she’s here I feel the loss much more keenly. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that something will happen to her. Afraid I won’t be able to help. Afraid I’ll lose her too.

God why can’t I stop fucking crying?

The page warps with fallen moisture; it’s smeared as if someone angrily scrubbed at the water marks attempting to clean away the evidence of their sorrow.

I miss them; I barely knew them but they did so much for me, and now they’re gone! Could I have saved them? Could I have made a difference? Could I have helped Piriel? Liwyn? Danyll and Thresas? This world sucks. Everyone dies because some other asshole feels like cutting someone down. It could be as simple as they wore the same shoes. It doesn’t make sense, and it’s cruel and random. I hate it here. I want to go home.

Chapter Text

Day 31

Adan found me yesterday just after I was coming out of my break down. He’s apparently still the head healer (I wonder how much longer he’ll be stuck with the title). And he’s very grumpity. Granted, the fact that he had to chase me down instead of one of those chantry sisters (who in all fairness did lose me) is a little ridiculous. “I don’t have time to go chasing after absentee patients!” He had scolded.

I apologized, my voice was still watery and I wanted to bury my head in a snow drift. I probably looked like I’d been bawling uncontrollably too. Sniffling, eyes red and tear tracks running down my cheeks. He eased up on the ranting as he all but marched me back into the village and to the healer’s tent.

“You should keep better track of your patients.” He informed a sister in a clipped tone as he directed me towards my cot, he was surprisingly gentle despite his waspish attitude. "I don't appreciate being interupted while im working. And you! Don’t run off again until you’re cleared.” He jabbed a finger in my direction.

“Yes sir, Scout’s honor.” Came out of my mouth before I could really think it over. He nodded and left with a swish of his robes.

I was never a scout. I’ve snuck out again. Stealth magics make it far too easy. This time I made my way to the logging stand.

Word in the tavern is that Jess is apparently on her way back to Haven. This is a good thing. Hopefully she’ll be able to spring me from the healer’s tent. I have a lingering suspicion that they’re keeping me here so Leliana can keep an eye on me without me being locked in a cell.

The Lady Nightingale did have a few words with me on my arrival in Haven. She was unhappy about the fact that I seem to have materialized out of thin air, suspiciously like The Herald and a particular Elvhen apostate. (Two of us with no known backgrounds and obvious ties to each other equates to a fish scented red flag in anyone’s book) I shrugged, drained from the amount of walking and emotional restraint I’d been exerting so far that day, and told her when she had questions I would happily answer them (Later was implied I think) I was escorted by a scout back to the healers tent.

She was scarier than I thought she would be. Dangerous. Just looking at her made the hairs on my arms stand on end. She reminds me of a bird of prey. Aside from the spymaster, I’ve not run into any of the other main characters (Sera’s here, Blackwall too. Vivienne has set up shop in the chantry). I have mixed feelings about the eventuality of meeting them. I am insanely curious as to how well Bioware depicted them, have they underplayed some of their personalities? How deep do their histories run? But I don’t want to bring too much attention to myself. I could alter the fabric of this story significantly. 

I wish I could roll Jess up into a pile of bubble wrap and take her far away. Except that I can’t. The mark is slowly killing her. She will lose most of her arm to it one day. How do you tell your best friend that? How do you break that kind of shit to someone? When she gets back we need to have a serious talk.

One of Leliana’s people found me today, I’m damned sure he was one of hers anyhow. He appeared at my shoulder like the harbinger of eternal damnation. I was frog marched back to the healers tent… again. The sisters are keeping a careful eye on me now; I think they’ve even worked out a rotating guard schedule amongst themselves. Challenge accepted.

Chapter Text

Day 32

“The sister guard” (My very own stalwart group of jailers) makes it a little more difficult to sneak off. Had to pretend to be sleeping and wait for someone to really need to use the privy before I could make my move. I hung out invisibly until someone was leaving the tent so I wouldn’t move the flap overly much.

I wandered off to Adan’s hut this time. Figured that maybe if I was there he wouldn’t be able to complain much. Slipped in behind one of the runners and parked my happy butt in the corner by the door.

A small sketch of a man in mage robes bent over a desk, peering intently at a flask of liquid is sketched out below. He has a well-trimmed beard and short shorn hair.

He didn’t notice me until an hour after the disillusionment had dropped. He had been pouring over some concoction or another. “Void take you!” He exclaimed, he got violent when he was startled, “How in the Maker’s holy name did you get -“ He shook his head. “I thought I told you to stay in the healer’s tent.” He cut himself off before advancing on me.

“You’re technically the head healer-“ I pointed out, my journal hugged to my chest.

“Not a healer, an alchemist.” He corrected firmly. He sighed, running a hand over his bearded chin. “Fine, you want to stay here, then stay here. But don’t distract me.” He warned and I beamed at him.

I think it was an hour or so later, when his attention drifted back to me. I wasn’t sure if I had been distracting him by just being here practicing reading (I had snagged a small slip of paper one of the sister’s dropped after having conducted lessons with some of the children in the village), if it was the scratching of coal on paper from all my sketching, or if it was boredom after having finished his research for the day.

“What are you doing?” He inquired, peering at the pages of my journal. “What kind of script is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I blinked at him a little surprised that he was engaging in conversation. “Oh err. It’s English.” He gave me a weird look and I handed him the journal. He glanced at my fumbled attempts at translation, though he probably didn’t recognize it for what it really was. The common language’s written structure was a bit more complex than I had thought. The letters worked kind of like Korean characters where their place in the syllable changed the sound. I still haven’t pieced together how the sentence forms. I think smaller words are implied. (The, will, and, to…) Sentences don’t make sense! I have to figure out the structure if I’m going to have any luck in ever being able to read again… I miss books.

I know that both the Qun and dwarven languages utilize runes and symbols as well. I am curious if Orlais and Tevinter follow the same structure or something similar. One thing is for sure, I won’t need to worry about anyone reading this unless they’re from Earth too.

He handed it back to me. I should probably keep it hidden from people. I mean if I want to avoid suspicion maybe sharing my written language is a bad idea. It just makes me wish Jess was back. We really need to have a chat about what we are willing to share.  “How did you get out anyways?” he inquired, sitting down in his rickety wooden chair.

“I’m a rogue in training. Stealth magic.” I explained quietly.

“You? A rogue?” He snorted.

I raised a brow at his amused tone of voice. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well not when you apply the 'in training' bit.” He amended before explaining. “You wear your emotions on your face. You're too soft to be involved in the rogue lifestyle.” At my offended expression he shot me a look. “Soft, nice, whatever floats your boat. It’s the same thing really.”

I shrugged a bit, still a little miffed but the man was right. I was soft compared to most people here. A runner came bursting through the door, carrying a missive for a couple dozen potions. Spent the rest of my day watching the process and wondering if he wouldn’t mind me helping on a slow day. The sisters were not pleased when I was delivered back into their care. Hope Jess comes back soon. I don't know how many more escape attempts I can manage before they glue me to the cot.

Chapter Text

Once we reached her quarters she barred the door, casting a few spells that layered over the entire room. “I can’t believe-“ She started, cutting herself off as she began to pace in agitation. “The mages indentured themselves to a Tevinter magister. A Tevinter Magister.” She hissed infuriated. “Salvery! Fucking barbarian bastard.”

“How much of this game do you remember? Dorian Pavus. He’s important isn’t he?” She asked (it was rhetorical I think) raking a hand through her hair. “Should we trust him?” She asked, worried.

We had our long talk. We decided it would be best if she knew of upcoming major events. Finer details could change, knowledge of them would only give her a greater margin for error, she would anticipate things, possibly giving something away at a crucial moment without meaning too. We also decided to limit the knowledge to us; it eliminated the possibility of enemy agents gaining access to crucial intelligence as well. It made me uneasy, it made her nervous. It wasn’t ideal but….

“If you can see an alternative decision that may make things better, suggest it.” I said into the darkness of the cabin as we settled in for bed. “If we can save lives…”

She agreed vehemently.

Chapter Text

Day 34

Today was rather eventful. In the way that there was only one point worth mentioning. Jess decided I needed to make more friends, “I’m going to be running out on Inquisition business…a lot.” She explained, “I’ll feel better knowing you have other people here you can spend time with.” So she dragged me to the tavern and sat me down in front of Varric Tethras. Rogue, Storyteller and occasional unwelcome tagalong.

He was surprisingly unintrusive and by the time I realized Jess had stealthily snuck off to meet in the war room to discuss (or argue, more than likely she was going to go listen to a squabble) the mage/Templar situation, We were halfway into a story about Hawke, Aveline and her painful approach to romance with a guardsman named Donnic.

“Hawke was trying to be delicate about the whole thing, Maker bless his poor awkward heart, and it was just too painful to watch.” I giggled a bit, remembering events vaguely.

“What happened then?” I prompted, leaning forward. Varric was the kind of guy who could tell you the same story multiple times and you wouldn’t mind at all. He added so much detail and humor Bioware really undercut his imaginative streak….and the chest hair…..so much chest hair.

“I had to say something.” He admitted taking a swig of his Ale, “So despite the almost inevitable attempt on my life I said ‘Do you want me to draw a picture of where she wants to touch you?’ Aveline was pissed, dragged us all down to her office.” I laughed, rocking backwards a bit at that. “Turns out she had nothing to worry about, They ended up getting married a few years later.”

“That’s hilarious.” I smirked into my own mug of ale (I have no idea where it came from but it wasn’t half as bad as I expected).

“So what’s your story?” Varric inquired, leaning forward, one brow lifted in curiosity.

“My story?” I inquired looking a bit taken aback. I wasn’t expecting him to ask after info on me.

He grinned, “Yeah! Well, besides the obvious childhood friend of the herald, rescued from a Templar attack part. That’s old news.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ve heard you write in a language no one’s ever seen before, can disappear like a trained Antivan crow out from under some of the Nightingale’s best people. And terrorized half of the Chantry sisters in Haven.”

I laughed. “Who runs the rumor mill around here?” I demanded, shaking my head. “Uhm in order: Yes, no, and maybe but I’d go with annoyed not terrorized.”

“I write in English, learned it from my parents. I had no idea it wasn’t a common form of written language until I struck out on my own.” I shrugged. “And I’m okay at the whole stealthy bit of rogueing.” I shrugged. “Not Antivan Crow good.”

“Rogueing?” Varric butted back in with an amused grin. “You and the Herald have an interesting way of talking. Where did you grow up?”

I nearly choked on my ale, “Oh you know…Here and there.”

He waved his hands in front of him, “Alright I get it, touchy subject.” He stood and I immediately felt bad, “It was good to finally meet you, Jules. Stop by anytime you want your ear talked off.” He smiled at me, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thanks Varric.” I think that despite not really wanting to get closer to the main 'cast' I may make an exception for Varric. He really is an awesome person. And it would be nice to have someone to talk to.

Chapter Text

Day 35

My day started out rather normally, well almost as normal as a day can start when you roll out of your own bed and whack your head on the nightstand. Thankfully it was just a lump; also thankfully no one was around to witness the incident. (Although had it been worse I would probably be bleeding out on the floor…) In retrospect, this should have been a sign for me to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers.

But I am nothing if not optimistic (read: stupidly unaware of karmic kickback). So I rolled out of bed, picked out a tunic, corset and pair of pants and strode out of the hut and straight into everyone’s favorite elvhen apostate. He caught me as I walked into him so I wouldn’t fall over, or run back inside and pretend I didn’t exist I guess. Both were viable options at that point.

At the time he was probably about to knock on the door, maybe looking for Jess (who was already down in the war room no doubt). “Ah,” he exclaimed, that discomforting smile gracing his features. “Lady Waters, I’m glad I caught you.” Ha! He made a punny. “We have not had the pleasure of meeting formally yet. My name is Solas. Would you walk with me?” I had guessed very wrong, he was looking for me. Damn.

“I’ve had little time to seek and audience with you since your arrival.” He tucked my hand in his elbow and started leading me down the stone steps towards the tavern before I could even come up with an appropriate excuse to not walk with him. Double damn. “I am curious.” He said as we passed by Varric’s usual spot by the main stairs, the dwarf was absent. “As to how you and our Herald became acquainted.”

I smiled uneasily at him, my shoulders were stiff and they felt like they were trying their best to meet the tips of my ears. Strangers and touching, queue internal screaming. “Yes well, it’s not really that interesting of a story.” I trailed off, trying not to look the man in the eyes even as he turned to me to urge me to continue.

“I find that hard to believe.” He disagreed, swinging us leisurely past Seggrit’s wares and towards the trebuchet.

I almost cursed in frustration. “It was almost twelve years ago.” I stated instead of cussing (like I really really wanted to). “I was just walking, on my way to school.” It was close to the truth, we had actually been running for a fitness test in school. “And she trotted up to me and started chattering at me. She thought I was someone else. Took her five minutes before she realized it.” I smiled fondly at the memory. “I couldn’t get a word in edgewise before she ran off.” I tugged at my tunic with my free hand, nervous and tense on his arm. I hoped he didn’t notice (but really how could henot notice). “She kept finding me after that, having fast paced one sided conversations and eventually we became close friends.” I was under embellishing. I didn’t want to tell him that every time she spoke to me I felt like I’d been slapped across the face with a frozen haddock. I was bewildered by how friendly she was, how fast she spoke, her imagination and self-assurance.

“Remarkable.” He said after a long moment, I nearly tripped.

“Remarkable?” I parroted, incredulous.

He nodded, a smirk tipping his lips upward. “It’s remarkable what bonds children will make. Even more so with how close you two remained despite your different races and cultures.”

“What would culture and race have to do with anything?” I mean I could see how it would and could affect friendships and relationships, but for him to find it remarkable that ours had survived the test of time and differing beliefs was actually kind of sad to me.

“You continue to surprise me.” Solas turned to look at me contemplatively.

“Then you’re easily surprised.” I parried lightly.

He shook his head. “Only with a few individuals it seems. You and our Herald, for example, are ongoing mysteries to me. You have no doubt been on the receiving end of comments and harsh treatment in your life. Yet, neither of you understand why it would be considered astonishing for two individuals from different races to maintain a strong healthy relationship despite differing ideals.”

“No mystery about it.” I argued, still frowning. “My parents were human. They didn’t force religion down my throat and they didn’t teach me that any one race was superior to the others.” I ticked my fingers out as I spoke. “We all love, hate and bleed the same as everyone else. What you call remarkable, I call being a decent person.” I stopped to start twisting my fingers in my tunic as he slowed our walk to a halt. I inspected the half constructed Trebuchet.

“You were adopted?” Solas inquired, I nodded with a small smile.

“I’d rather we didn’t talk about it.” I stated. Firstly because I wasn’t adopted and secondly I didn’t want to cry in front of the dread wolf, or at all. I had a good few days of no crying under my belt.

We stood in the cold for a few seconds before Solas sighed aloud. “Do I truly make you so uncomfortable?” Solas inquired, sounding concerned.

“What?” I inquired a little too quickly and a little too shrilly “No.” I was rushing to reassure, I don’t know why. To spare the man’s feelings?

“You are tense, Da’len.” Solas finally voiced the observation. I had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up.

Normally it was the fact that I knew very little of the person I was around that prompted my tense unease and aversion to touch. This was only partially true about Solas. I knew of him, I knew pieces of his personality as portrayed by Bioware. And most importantly, I knew all about his plans to burn the world for the sake of another. I understood where he was coming from. Still, I couldn’t tip my hand. I had little doubt that he was a decent person beneath the martyrdom and backwards way of seeking penance.

The road to hell has always been (and always would be) paved with good intentions. Killing millions of people because you fucked up a long time ago wasnot okay in my books. But I sucked at lying, and didn’t want to die just yet. Not after finding Jess.

I heaved a sigh; I would have to wing it. This was going to suck so bad. “I’ll be frank.” I tugged my hand loose; started pacing, hands becoming more animated as my heart jumped into my throat. Let me reiterate: This was going to fucking suck so fucking bad.

The area was surprisingly empty of any additional carbon based life forms (which was not a good indicator for my continued survival). “I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” His eyebrows inched up his forehead. I looked down at my arms, mostly fat, a little muscle but overall unimpressive. I continued, even though more than 80% of my body (the survivalist portion) screamed at me to shut up and run back to bed. “Which, considering my limited upper body strength, isn’t far at all.” His lips quirked upwards in wry amusement; I plowed onwards, babbling a bit in my nervous stupor. “And I think you are also rather aware that trust is earned, not given based on the tossability of an individual.” He opened his mouth but I surged onwards, “And you, sir,” I poked an index finger into his chest peering up at him sternly “have not known me long enough to have earned my trust.”

He must be a dog person (dogs are descended from wolves so I count that as evidence in favor of my hypothesis). Probably used to people who warm up quickly to situations or other people. I love dogs, but I’m more of a cat person. I know they need time and space before they deign to let loose and destroy everything you’ve ever loved…..Maybe Solas is a cat person after all? Bad joke. Not funny.

I turned from him folding my arms across my chest. There was a small period of silence as I sucked in breaths (as quietly as I could) and tried to calm my frazzled self and talk myself down from the ledge I had found myself on. “Are you quite finished?” He inquired amusement and a dollop of condemnation coloring his tone.

My hackles rose at his tone of voice. “Quite.” I mirrored his tone, without thinking about it. Ah shit, have I mentioned that this encounter wouldn’t be ending well. Because if there was any way it would have from the beginning, it sure as hell wasn’t going to after that.

“I have given you little reason to trust me, this is true.” He agreed first and foremost, and I deflated a bit at that. Honestly surprised by his admission. “However, I have also done nothing to fuel your continued distrust .” he argued, folding his hands behind his back, falling into what I was beginning to privately refer to as ‘Ha’hren mode’. “I have fought beside you, and saved your friend’s life on more than one occasion-”

“So?” I interjected abruptly. I was trying to channel Christopher Walken from ‘Seven Psychopaths’, you know that scene where he was faced with a goon holding him at the business end of a shotgun? No? Well shit, I wish I could show it to you, funniest scene in the entire movie in my opinion. “What do you want? A hug? I’ve met Rage demons more huggable than you.” Okay maybe I could have made that a bit less confrontational, but I had been having a rather headache inducing morning… Also I probably would have rather been back in the Hinterlands hugging it out with a rage demon next to an active rift than having this conversation.

He sputtered, honest to god sputtered. “Your distrust is unfounded.” He took a step forward, brows scrunching in frustration. “At the very least I should be, as you so eloquently put it, more huggable than a rage demon.” His condescension was palpable now. Whoo boy. Feathers have been ruffled.

“Don’t you Sass me!” I jabbed him in the chest with my index finger, “Mr. not-a-hedge-mage.” I poked him again for good measure, his brow smoothed in surprise at the contact. “If you think you can tell me when I should feel comfortable trusting you, you have another thing coming.” I stepped back, flinging my hands upwards, “This is all based on what?” I poked my palm with my finger. I was feeling very pokey I guess. "Why are you pushing for my trust? We literally just met!" I paced in front of him again, 100% done with being alone with the man.

I know I’ve said this before, but I’m going to die here. Not in battle, but because I said the wrong thing to the wrong person. It will be listed in a book called A Hundred Ways to Die in Ferelden Thedas listed under “Insulting undercover ancient elvhen gods”. I’m already drafting it up. (I have almost twenty so far. Making some serious progress.)

“You distrust me because I am an apostate?” He bit out, drawing himself back into his holier than thou shell. Judgement was oozing out of him, it rankled. In retrospect I can see where he drew that conclusion; really this whole thing was my fault. Sometimes shit comes out my mouth and it can sound rather…condemning.

I stopped to stare at him incredulously. My mouth was open I recall. “Apostate?!” I inquired, derision heavy in my tone, “Oh yes, I condemn you based on a gift you were born with and for wanting to freely learn to control that gift. How much of a stuck up jackass do you take me for?!” When his face pinched in mild confusion and guilt I made a noise of disgust. “Oh my fucking….” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not going to try stuffing some sugar coated bullshit down your throat, Solas! If you want to be more huggable, maybe you should try being less of an unapproachable, judgmental, prickly, condescending, asshole!” I jabbed a finger under his nose, making him take half a step backwards in surprise.

On that super upset, and most likely (read as: definitely) over dramatic, note I turned and swiftly made my way back to the cottage. Which, I will unashamedly admit was also me fleeing before I could start crying, I do that when I get mad and say mean things. I cry. He called my name once I think, sounding slightly repentant, but that could have been my imagination.

Jess was in the cabin, curled up facing the wall. The war room meeting went about as well as can be expected, then. I flopped down face first on my own bed, roughly kicking the boots from my feet and snagging my pillow. I screamed into it long and as loudly as I could. It didn’t muffle it too much but enough that someone wouldn’t burst into the cottage, swords drawn. “You too huh?” Jess inquired, sounding tired, and angry.

I grunted, still fighting back tears. “Yeah.” We sat in silence for a moment. “Wanna talk about it?” I inquired, desperately wanting to take my mind off of what had just happened.

Jess launched into a lengthy cuss filled rendition of the argument over who to support, mages or Templars, despite being a fledgling organization. Jess wanted to aid the mages, and a majority of her advisors wanted to aid the Templars instead. It surprised me to find out that Josephine wanted to support the Templars and only Leliana spoke on behalf of the mages.

“I think you already know what you want to do.” I fiddled idly with the hem of my tunic, I felt drained. “You shouldn’t dismiss your advisor’s opinions completely, but….ultimately you should go with what you feel is right.” Have I mentioned that I suck at helping? Like really suck. I tend to support my friends unless they’re kicking puppies or blowing up galaxies. Even then I think I’d still have their backs, granted with a lot of indignant cussing, and threats of stuffing them in a bubble where they can’t hurt anyone but…

Jess sagged in relief. “You have way too much faith in me and my decisions.” She let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed as she stared at the wall. “What if I’m wrong?”

I shrugged, “Then you’re wrong.” She snorted a sarcastic thanks. “Well, what do you want from me?! You can’t be expected to know everything. You can’t be expected to fix everything either. That’s a hell of a lot to throw at a person!” I sat up straight, running a hand through my hair until my fingers caught in the simple braid I plaited this morning. “Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you have to fix it. Especially if it means fixing it would make shit for everyone else worse!”

Jess sat up and raised a brow. “I think this isn’t just about me, but I get what you’re saying.” She cut me off with a placating motion. “What happened with you earlier?”

I groaned and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. “I may have told our resident Hedge mage that I’d cuddled with rage demons more approachable than him.”

That surprised a laugh out of her, “You didn’t!”

I whimpered, “I did.”                                  

Have I mentioned that she sucks at helping too? Cause she does.

Chapter Text

Day 36

I have a problem. I usually stress about things that I say or arguments that I’ve had, despite being right (sometimes…rarely). I will lay awake for hours and contemplate apologizing. I once called Jess at 2am to apologize for something I said during the day that I thought may have insulted her…she didn’t remember. The argument with Solas weighed heavily on me. Hell if I know why. Did he honestly want my trust? Maybe he honestly wanted it, maybe he didn’t. I don’t know. Curiosity might be his main motivator.

But I had eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep, plagued by a history I hadn’t lived. It was probably my first Interesting trip into the fade since I arrived in Thedas.

I was in Haven, back when the Grey Wardens came through looking for Andraste’s ashes. The Hero of Ferelden (Here-on to be referred to as the HoF) was a Dwarf by the way. It was confusing since I was seeing everything from multiple perspectives. Dream/vision/unintentional historical reenactment ended with me (but not me) dying by the HoF’s sword. I’ve never experienced a battle in the fade. It was graphic and confusing and I almost wish I dreamed of work again…

I managed to pull myself free of the battle and went to sit on the wall above Varric’s usual spot by the fire. I watched the fighting until the spirits drifted off reenacting the battle in the temple itself.

Then came the culminating point of my fade trip. My ‘brother’ came by. Trying to entice me with promises of finding our way home if I could just take him with me. He said he missed me. He reached out to hug me.

I wasn’t in the mood; I’d just been stabbed not twenty minutes prior (well not me but it felt like it). And I felt more exhausted here than I did in the waking realm.

I looked Desire in the face, it’s visage of my brother peeling off of it like old paint, “I’m not a mage. I’d make a poor meat suit for you, sweet heart.” I stated quite plainly.

She smiled, fingers trailing everywhere that would normally be considered socially inappropriate. “Are you certain mortal?”

“Yeah, pretty damn sure.” I snapped, annoyed now. “You’d probably do better to wear a different person next time, like Mark Shepherd.” Oh yeah, I would die to see another demon trying to make a deal while wearing Crowley’s image. “Or offer a life time supply of muffins.”

Tits McGee only laughed. It was a smoky, breathy sound, “Oh sweet, foolish mortal, I will leave you to your delusions… for now.” She shot me a sultry look, and I rubbed my face in frustration. “But I’ll be back.” ‘Cause, you know, that’s not fucking terrifying or cryptic… Like at all.

I’m not sure how a desire demon would react to being told to put on a shirt…That should go in my book of stupid ways to die too.

By the time I woke and had decided to apologize for my harsh words, Jess had already gathered Solas, Cassandra and Sera to head out for the Storm Coast.

After I had talked myself down (again) I resolved that I would have to bake Jess a cake, or some muffins, or maybe even some cookies just for taking Solas with her. Granted her options are limited currently, but the fact that I can wander about Haven without worrying about bumping into a mage I insulted not even twenty four hours prior is wonderful (and horrible when the anxiety strikes and I desperately feel the need to apologize at random). Not that skulking about would be an issue, I excel at the sneaky bit of roguery. Lock picking and pick pocketing need some serious work though. Also blades. I know the very basics so far and can last a minute in a spar against one of the less experience rogues in Leliana’s employ, I also remember a few knife moves from military training, but nothing that would be overtly effective in the field. Honestly I’m surprised I managed to kill the archer on the Kings road

I made my way down to the tavern, it was warm out for once, nice and spring like. I wore a sleeveless tunic and left my hair down and a riotous mess. Barefooted all over the place, because fuck shoes. I probably looked like a wild woman, or a Dalish without a Vallaslin, but I was far from giving any sort of shit. I was a rogue! We’re all charm (lies), grace (more lies), and reckless abandon (so many lies!). I was halfway through my bowl of oatmeal (or gruel or whatever the hell was being scraped from the pot this morning, it was good whatever it was) when a messenger dropped a slip of paper in front of me.

He turned to leave and I shot up with a protesting sound. “Hang on! Wait a minute, who’s this from?” Viking runes were written all over it and I still couldn’t read common. He looked at me for a long minute as if he couldn’t believe I’d asked him something so monumentally stupid.

“It’s signed.” He answered, a thick Orlesian accent coloring his already snooty tone. What a dick.

“Yeah that’s nice.” I grit my teeth. This was going to be painful. “Would be nicer if I could read.”

He sneered at that. Superior asshat. I have had enough of derisive attitudes. I could live in the wilds to the south for the rest of my short life and be happy not seeing another person again at this point. Pick up forty seven cats and a couple ugly Christmas cardigans and I’ll be set.

“Lady Nightingale requests your presence, immediately. Don’t keep her waiting, elf.” He swept out of the tavern. Swept! I may have been trying to murder him with my eyes.

 I stood with the missive in my hand, no longer hungry and stalked out of the tavern. I was so mad I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going I was lucky I didn’t smack straight into anyone on my way to Varric’s fire. I took the stairs two at a time. It took me a minute to gather the courage to ask if he would read the missive for me. I may have mangled the parchment thoughtlessly while I chatted with him. He expressed genuine surprise that I was unable to read and vowed to teach me himself.

Turns out the Mistress Nightingale wanted to use me as an agent in the near future. She was setting me up with one of her agents for lessons. I hope to god it’s not the runner she sent today. He was such a dick. I hopped up to where Leliana’s tent was set up, she had unsurprisingly heard Varric and my exchange. I start training tomorrow morning. Pick pocketing and Dual wielding. It’ll be good to be busy again.

Chapter Text

Day 37

I started training officially under an inquisition agent today. I am now convinced the reason Leliana wanted me was so she could keep a better eye on me. I was working with a Fereldan man named Nicholas. He was a quiet guy; Experienced, precise, and brutal.

He decided to begin the day with the fundamentals of picking locks and pockets. It was after that that he decided we would move onto blade work. Since I had the fundamentals down, he decided we would begin with sparring….four hours of it. Have I mentioned Nick is brutal?

By noon today my ass was one giant bruise. Nicholas called it quits (most likely because he’d kicked my ass so much he was sick of it) in the early afternoon. I was reconsidering my recent choice in careers as I slumped into the tavern for a late lunch. Varric spotted me immediately, waving me over to his table. He grinned as I groaned and lowered myself gingerly into the seat across from him. “Rough day on the training field?”

“Oh God, let’s not talk about it while the bruises are still fresh…” I begged, slouched in the chair, head thrown backwards to hang almost uncomfortably over the back of it.

“You’ll get the hang of it, kid.” He chuckled. The sound of something sliding across the wooden table top caught my attention “I got you something, the chantry had a few of them tucked away in the lower levels.” I lifted my head to look at the dwarf with a raised brow.  He had pushed a slim tome across the table towards me and was grinning unabashedly. “It’s a reading and writing primer.”

I flailed forwards in my chair, aches and pains temporarily ignored in favor of the precious gift my new friend had so graciously tracked down. I looked at him with wide eyes as I gingerly flipped the book open. Lines of runes met my curious gaze and I looked back up at Varric. He was still grinning but something about it had softened. “Oh- Varric, thank you! Thank you, so much!”

“What kind of friend would I be if I left you to languish in illiteracy for the rest of your days?” He inquired dryly, taking a swig from his tankard. “Just drop by any time and We’ll start working through it.”

“How about now?” I picked it up and hugged it to my chest, smiling crookedly at him. “Is now good?”

He laughed outright at that, smacking a gloved hand against the table, “Yeah, now’s good.”

I spent the better part of an hour in Varric’s cabin listening to him explain the characters and their sounds. I wrote notes in English without really thinking about it. “Is that it?” Varric asked finally, peering down at my cramped hurried writing in the margins of the primer. "What did you call it again? English?"

“Oh,” I paused, internally cursing my dumb self "yeah. Just trying to make sure I don't forget anything.” I explained. He hummed, studying it curiously.

“And does Jess know how to read and write English too?” Varric dug, his tone was light as he made his way over to his desk. I could tell I'd raised some of his suspicion however.

“Yeah, she and her family lived with us a while, they had time to learn it too.” I stated, bending back over my book to hide my slightly panicked expression. Fuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkk. As if one spymaster breathing down our necks wasn’t enough. I think I wouldn’t mind Varric knowing though. This is the man who embraced (or would at any rate) Cole, implications and all. I think he could handle a few off worlders. Still I’d rather not drop that bomb just yet.

He graciously let the subject drop after that. I doubted it would be the last I heard of it though.

Around supper time I excused myself. Stomach loudly complaining about the negligence I had treated it with that day, having forgone lunch in order to badger Varric for lessons. Dinner was a stew of some sort (needed more salt in my opinion but otherwise delicious) and a small hunk of bread. I scarfed it down and shuffled my way back to my cabin. Today was a long one, and I get to spar with Nick all over again tomorrow. Yippee.

I’m worried. I’ve been thinking about our situation a lot lately. I’m not surprised that I can’t remember how I got here, and I am definitely not surprised that Jess can’t either (her memory loss is canon at least). What worries me is why us? We were on opposite ends of the coast, as far as I recall, when we were dumped through the fade. Which could account for why we arrived in separate locations and at separate times. And yet something felt wrong, something was off. Of all the people on earth to appear around the same time, around the same place, why us? Not that I’m complaining, I just wonder. I am fully on board with the Holmes brothers when I say that I don’t believe in coincidences. The universe is rarely that lazy.

Chapter Text

Day 42

Last night I didn’t bump into the particularly persistent Desire demon (Thank god). I did however run into an ancient Elvhen spirit. He was purple, translucent (and a great listener). “-And I mean.” I flailed my hands as the purple spirit stood stock still over me. I had been yammering at it since I had run across it in a fade representation of an old ruin in the Hinterlands. “Who does that?!” It shifted slightly, featureless face turning to look into the forest. “We just met, and he was so pushy!” Yep a week after the incident and I was still worried about it.

I slumped and flopped backwards. I had been sitting cross legged at his feet while I rambled. “I just- I’m so-“ I groaned in frustration “I feel bad for saying all of that. And for unloading all of it on you.” He shifted again, and I turned to look in the direction he was looking. I thought I’d caught sight of a wolf, but it could’ve been my imagination. (I hoped it was any ways.) I woke up before I was absolutely certain.

My dreams have been troubled lately. I blame that god damned Desire demon. And also our resident Hedge mage, who really should have better shit to do than to invade my Fade space (If he was in fact lurking).

I was thankfully on a day off. I got two out of a seven day stint. Three days of training, one day off, two days of training and then a day off. It was kind of weird but nice.

Varric and I had been having nightly lessons and He had managed to snag me a fairy tale book to practice with since the primer was mostly for writing. I’m proud to say that with Varric’s help, I’ve proven to be a quick study. Thankfully the sentence structure wasn’t different from English, which was obvious now that I think about it. But relieving. I’m haltingly reading out loud in the evenings now. These kids stories are disturbing, let me tell you. Like on par with the Grimm Fairy Tales.

For example: Bad Children All Get Eaten (From: A Treasury of Tales for Children All Over)

Now gather all young ones, and here what I say,

For good girls and boys know when to keep mum.

For silent politeness is simply the way,

And always be thinking of this rule of thumb:

Eaten, eaten, eaten!

Bad children all get eaten!

Boiled or toasted! Broiled or roasted!

Eaten, eaten, eaten!

And it continues to list the many ways to cook small naughty children. For a society that tries to teach kids that a giant will eat them if they don’t wash up…they sure as hell have dubious washing habits.

On a brighter note the Chargers arrived a few days ago, Iron Bull was a massive presence by the training grounds. Seriously the dude was fucking huge. I’m pretty sure the rumors I’d heard at the cross roads about Jess were actually about him. She wasn’t quite as broad as a barn, but he definitely is. I had no intentions of meeting the man until after Jess had gotten back, but you know what they say about plans and going wrong….they tend to.

I was skulking about in the lower levels of the chantry. I may have picked the lock to that messy as fuck office just to use the desk and hide from nosy inquisition members. Either my lock picking was improving or they had some seriously shitty locks on these doors. I had a song stuck in my head, and it had been camped out there for days. Varric caught me humming a few times before Jess hauled the others out to the storm coast. I needed to get it out before I started singing and dancing spontaneously. That’s something no one needs. I am an artist. I’m not a singer (For very good reasons).

“Oh, a thousand faces staring at me, Thousand times I've fallen, Thousand voices dead at my feet.“ It was a little off key, but It didn’t bother me too much. I just needed the damn song out of my head. The tune I was singing was a Low and somber one. “Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone.” I hummed a few bars, inking my quill and carefully scratching out a sentence in common in the primer. It no longer looked like a three year old was writing in it to my immense pride. “And my mother told me ‘son let it be’, Sold my soul to the calling,” My voice echoed off the stone walls. They had good acoustics down here, too bad I sucked at singing. “Sold my soul to a sweet melody, Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone.”

I doubled back to the first verse as it sprung to mind, “Lonely shadow's following me, lonely ghost come crawling, Lonely voices talking to me, Now I'm gone, Now I'm gone, Now I'm gone.” I’d had the same artist (Barns Courtney, great songs. Kinda creepy and somber but good) stuck in my head the day before. I didn’t think it was a good idea to belt out a song no one recognized.

I warbled through a few more lines, before finally I was reminded of another song. And happily began humming it. It was much more cheerful. I was nearly finished with the page when movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. The melody I’d been carrying died abruptly at the sight of The Iron Bull leaning against the door jam, the brow of his bad eye raised and a smirk stretched across his lips. “Never heard that song before.” he stated casually.

“Uhm….” I stuttered, my head felt like it was spinning and the rest of me felt frozen, hunched over the desk. “It’s not…widely known.” I stated the obvious. He didn’t look like he would press, for now anyways.

He hummed thoughtfully hand rubbing over stubble, He paused, thoughtful look morphing into a mischievous one. “You’re getting ink all over that poor book.” He pointed out. I squawked and flailed a bit at the sight of the blotch at the end of the page from where I’d let my wet quill rest for far too long.

“Shit!” He chuckled and ducked into the small cell turned ‘library-for-the-damned-and-wicked’. The ink had bled through several pages. “Ahhhhhhhhh. Damnit.”

“You’re the Herald’s friend,” He stated, it had the air of a question even though I knew it was more of an observation. “Saw you hanging out with Varric a few days ago.”

I gave up dabbing at the book and turned a wary eye. “Do you have an issue with that?” I inquired, wondering where exactly this was heading. He was a spy. There were far too many spies running around for my comfort. Our secrets would never remain ours if this kept up…

He grinned broadly at me. “No just making conversation.” Sure right. Not gathering intel. Believable. I know collectors when I see em’ and this guy was collecting. “I’m The Iron Bull. Lemire hired me and my boys a few weeks ago.”

I nodded, “I’m Julie.” I flicked a wayward curl out of my eyes, “But you probably already knew that.” His chuckle was answer enough for me. “What are you doing down here anyways?”

“Looking around.” He answered vaguely, “You?”

“Quiet place to work on my writing.” I answered honestly. I suck at lying, and he’s great at seeing when other people do. He would vaguely call Blackwall out on his shit upon meeting him.

“Varric mentioned he was teaching you to read.” The grey warrior nodded. “Said you only knew how to write in some weird foreign language.”

What the hell, Varric. Youre a terrible secret keeper. That’s what he wants to know then? About a language no one has ever seen, that would be something to report back to the Qunari. Fuck. “Well now I can scratch out some Common with only a handful of minor spelling errors.” I stated, closing the primer, no more practice for me then. He chuckled as I stood and stretched, tucking the book under my arm.

“Done so soon?”

“Done for now.” I stated skirting around him and heading back towards the chantry proper.

“So where do you come from?” He asked as we climbed the stone steps to the main hall. “You and the Boss have the same accent. I can’t place it. Ferelden? Free marches?”

Ah hell. This was going to be an interrogation then. “We moved a lot.” I stated, it didn’t really answer his question. “It was a weird little community.” Ah hell, this was going to be fun to spin Jess up on I vaguely wondered what she told him.

“Like a Dalish-“ I laughed, cutting him off.

“No God, no. Not Dalish. It was like a mixed community, almost like a travelling band of refugees I suppose. We became a weird mixed sort of family.” I smiled at him. I wasn’t necessarily lying. Our town had people of different races. And our group of friends did become a weird mixed travelling family of sorts.

“God?” he quirked a brow, latching onto another one of my curiosities. I almost smacked myself for my slip. “Which one?”

“Whichever one exists.” I answered, playing the agnostic route. We pushed through to the main hall; I took a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the lighting.

“Not Dalish, and you don’t believe in the old gods. You aren’t Andrasdian either then?” He prodded. What was it with people and religion (Especially people in Thedas)? My Father had been Catholic (he almost never attended mass) and my mother had been agnostic. Modern day society didn’t seem to care much for religion.

I hummed, shaking my head side to side as we slipped out into the cold. “I was surprised when I didn’t immediately catch fire crossing the threshold.” I admitted. His booming laughter startled me. He invited me down to the tavern, but I hastily made my escape after that. I’m sure he already has his suspicions. As does Leliana. Any spymaster worth their salt would be suspicious of me. I may be training to become an agent, but I was crap at evading questions like that. I only hoped they’d assign me drop and grabs in the future (or if I was really lucky I’d be assigned to light red Templar tents on fire, arson is always fun).

Chapter Text

Day 43

I have managed to avoid interacting with Iron Bull since then, well aside from waves and passing pleasantries. I had caught a glimpse of him training with Krem as I trotted my happy ass out to the logging stand to have a bit of recluse time. It was warm again today and I had allowed my hair to stay down, and tugged on a sleeveless tunic and left my feet bare (again). It kept most of the nobility and proper people away from me if I looked like an urchin; I was in no mood for hobnobbing. Vivienne sure as hell kept her distance (thank god. I love saucy people but she’s just combative about it…)

I plucked some Elfroot on my way there; I’d made a habit of leaving the stuff by Adan’s door to help out a bit. He was probably one of my favorite people in Haven at the moment (Not that he knew that yet wow that sounds creepy pretend you can’t see that last bit). His snarky attitude was refreshing.

I got to the logging stand and started to sketch, just little things, doodles really. I was so intent on it I didn’t hear him approach until he spoke

 “Lady Waters, Ir abelas- I am sorry-” Solas’ voice was soft, probably so he didn’t startle me. It didn’t work very well.

 “Holy shit!” I toppled backwards off my stump and into the snow. I’m awake now thanks! Jess must have just returned from the Storm Coast. Fuck this guy could give me lessons on being sneaky.

“Ah.” His ridiculously large hands grasped at my shoulders, helping me to my feet. His face was a mix of amusement and apology. “Yet another thing I find I must apologize for.”

“Damn it, Solas!” I fisted the fabric of my tunic, right above my heart. “What the absolute fuck?”

He took a step back, head tilting slightly to the side in a submissive gesture (Ha’ren mode activating seamlessly) and hands behind his back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” I hated that pose. It didn’t fit on him. His eyes were too old, expression too careful. I don’t even want to begin wondering if he meant the apology as well.

“Yeah I got that.” I shot back, still breathless as I plopped back down onto the stump in my normal graceless fashion. I could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes that the action irritated him a little, though he didn’t say so. “Thanks.”

“I meant to come out and apologize. I was wrong to assume you would mistrust someone simply because of their gifts.” My mind whirled back to when I had been speaking easily at (and probably annoying the shit out of) an ancient elvhen spirit, the wolf I had (possibly) seen skulking about the fade around us. He was probably super curious about my activities in the Fade. But approaching me uninvited would be considered rude, and also the whole demonic temptation trope that was preached from here to the Anderfells (And rather accurately so). I couldn’t even begin to tell him how many messages I’d drafted in apology while they had been away. But he probably already knew about them, since I had tracked down the poor afore mentioned purple elvhen spirit and babbled ceaselessly about how guilty I felt.

“I well….I’m sorry I was hurtful.” I replied, lamely. Twisting my fingers in the hem of my tunic, stretching the material. “And I was wrong to say you were less huggable than a rage demon. I’ve never hugged a rage demon and would strongly discourage it, cause they’re…you know…burny.” I was babbling, “And you’re not too prickly, or that much of an asshole. I may be being overly cautious-“

He barked out a genuine laugh, startling me into silence. His expression softened, reminding me of someone who had just come across an endearing baby animal of some sort. “Hush, Da’len. Your apology is unwarranted but appreciated.” I let out a breath. Seriously what is wrong with me? I don’t know why hurting his feelings makes me so uncomfortable. He is kind of an asshole. I generally distance myself from those, plans to destroy the world or not.

“But it’s not unwarranted…” I struggled for a moment as he levelled a stern look that offered another argument. “Fine, I’m glad.” I ran a hand through my hair, grunting in annoyance when it tangled in the curls I had allowed to hang loose that day.

“You seem tired.” He observed casually offering his arm. I smiled, making a small motion declining contact but walked beside him nevertheless. “What troubles you?”

Diving right in. So he was lurking. Man is confident in his secrets I’ll give him that. I laughed stiffly. “Anxiety, Jess’ exploits into demon infested hills, all the disturbingly terrifying children’s tales of Thedas.” I listed, ticking the items off on my fingers, “You know, normal things.”

He sniffed in amusement. The conversation from there was thankfully focused more on their travels to the storm coast as he slowly escorted me back into Haven proper. We parted ways at the steps leading to Jess’ cottage and I hurriedly let myself inside and shut the door firmly behind me. Jess wasn’t inside, reporting to her advisors more than likely. I flopped onto the bed, both relieved and seriously annoyed that I had apologized to Solas. On the one hand my behavior had been rather dramatic. On the other, his expectations to be immediately trusted with personal information had been rather forward.

I am not happy that I will have to allow myself to believe we were both mildly in the wrong.

Jess returned from her meeting, looking tired and mildly gloomy. She was only in Haven for a few days until they rode out for Redcliff again. The Magister had sent a rather flattering letter inviting her, and her alone, to the Redcliff Castle for an audience.

“Oh he definitely wants you gone.” I assured her, with a roll of my eyes. “Not really hiding the fact that it’s a trap.”

She frowned, allowing her torso to dangle off the edge of the bed, her horns resting on the floor “He’s confident. He’s well-guarded in a stronghold surrounded by Mages under his command.”

I scoffed. “He is way too confident, it’s making him sloppy.” I leaned forward on the bed, “Have you spoken to them about your decision?” She shrugged.

“I asked for the evening to consider my options.”

“Great because There’s some stuff I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

Chapter Text

Day 45

Jess has been busy, in and out of meetings since she’s been back, her departure date was moved up to yesterday morning (quite abruptly). So we spent very little time together and even less relaxing. They understandably want to seal the breach. I wish she was still around though. I would have loved to share my concerns on something… But it’s not even that big of a deal. I could handle it to be honest.

Leliana’s sending me to scout ahead in the Fallow Mire. The Lady Nightingale sent me the missive Yesterday, I painstakingly read through it myself before going and having Varric double check my work. I am proud to say I got a lot of the information right. Nick had (of course) been reporting my progress to the Spymistress. She was impressed by my progress and wanted to see how I would do in regular field conditions. Agents worked along-side the scouts more often than not. Only truly splitting off when Leliana needed an agent to handle a more delicate matter.

Fuck my life. I mean it’s an honor that she thinks I’m ready for on the job training, but… There’s a scouting patrol that goes missing down there. It hasn’t yet, I’ve been keeping an ear to the ground since I got that missive but…

I’ve been sitting up in bed, I was squinting in the dwindling candlelight at the first installment of ‘Hard in Hightown’.  I am supposed to leave in a few hours. But this mission has seriously triggered my anxiety making it impossible to sleep. I have packed, repacked and packed again just in case. I know a scouting party will go missing down there, and I really hope it won’t be mine. But truthfully it’s not just the mission that’s keeping me from getting proper sleep.

I am not very in tune with the magic aspect of Thedas. I mean I know about the Mage plight (if you play the game, how can you not), I know they can interact with the fade, I know Spirits and demons are rather closely related but not necessarily the same.

I know vaguely of dreamers. The mages with the ability to remember their adventures in the Fade. The power to mold the fade to their will, walk into other’s dreams. Possibilities are endless. I suspect I may be one of those. Jess is great at healing and offensive magic (Something that surprised her upon waking) so it could be possible.

The thing is, I thought I needed to be a powerful mage to be a dreamer. But I haven’t shown any outward signs of magic. Granted I’ve no real proof that I’m actually a dreamer, just a theory. My only piece of supporting evidence is that I remember my fade adventures. If they can be called that. I have interacted with dreams that weren’t mine. I have seen the fade for what it is. But is that enough?

Anyways, the children’s stories Varric had me reading were really starting to get to me. Especially the Dalish section. I kept dreaming about wolves, weird ones with three sets of eyes. I know who they represent, but I’m pretty sure this time the wolves are constructs of the fade, not the man himself. Not that I had trouble removing myself from these weird wolf infested dreams, it’s just unnerving. So, a couple days back I snatched up an unattended copy of ‘Hard in Hightown’ from a tavern table and started struggling through it.

Despite the slow pace and occasional grave mispronunciation, it’s a great read. Earlier I had reached a point in the book where I couldn’t put it down even if I wanted to. I couldn’t move past this one part without help. There was one word that was driving me absolutely insane. I was either mispronouncing it or it was a name I had never heard before. I stuffed my feet into my boots angrily and marched my butt over to the cottages closest the chantry. A light flickered in Solas’ window and I tentatively knocked, book hugged to my chest. It was fucking cold and I was standing outside in nothing but a pair of leggings, an undershirt and a pair of unlaced boots. I had not thought this through.

The door opened abruptly, Solas’ intimidating grumpy expression melted away into shock and then curiosity. “Lady Waters.” He greeted, “What…” he looked me over, his expression went from curious to amused. “What brings you to my door at this hour?”

I opened the book, holding it in front of me like a shield. “Third paragraph, fourth word in. I can’t move passed it. I may be mispronouncing it, or maybe it’s a name-“

He held a hand up to halt my babbling question. “It’s late, you need sleep before you head out in the morning Da’len.”

I drew the book back into my chest protectively, eyes narrowing. “I don’t need sleep, Ha’hren.” The word seemed to shock him (as much as the man can be shocked, he raised a single brow at me). “I need answers.” And then the bemusement rolled over his features.

He snorted, “The word you’re asking after is mezzanine.”

I stared at him uncomprehendingly, I had never heard the word before and had in fact been mispronouncing it. “It’s not elvhen is it?” I asked hesitantly.

He barked a laugh at that and I felt a little curl of hurt crawl into my chest. “No. It’s the word describing a partial second floor of a building.” Don’t ask me why it hurt so much that he laughed at my question. Maybe because of the slightly superior quality of said laugh. I knew he could be a bit of a dick (even though I doubt he meant any harm at the time), and still I asked him anyways. I can be defensive when I’m learning a new skill. I tried not to let it show, but I know my fingers tightened on the book, and even though my face was flush from the cold, I could feel the embarrassment flooding my cheeks with more color.

“Ah!” I stated, trying to mask my discomfort with the exclamation. My voice may have wavered a little. “That helps, thanks Messer.” I dipped my head a little, taking the formal address that was so commonly heard in Dragon Age 2. I didn’t even straighten up before I was spinning on my heel and all but dashing back to my cabin. I abandoned the book on my nightstand and turned myself into a blanket burrito. Lack of sleep and heightened anxiety had come together spectacularly to create a crushing void. I had teetered on the edge for the past 24 hours. I had only needed a small nudge to fall into it.

I didn’t sleep, Instead I started writing this all out in here.

I just needed to vent. My situation seems so fucking impossible right now. I don’t want to fuck this up. What if someone dies because of me, what if I’m not any good at this? What will I do then? Take up a position in the kitchens?

Breathe Waters, you can do this, forget about Solas, he’s a dick, you can do this. You can scout. You can fight. You can avoid being captured by the Avvar.

It’s an hour until sunrise, and I need to make sure I’m properly packed....again.

Chapter Text

Day 58

My patrol did in fact get snatched up by the Avvar. This was nearly two weeks ago…I guess I should backtrack.

The Fallow Mire is accurately depicted by the Game. Rainy, mucky, and infested with corpses (both animated and still). Our scouting party was a good ways towards the keep when the Avvar attacked. I was still sleeping like shit, nerves hanging heavy in my gut. I was feeling subpar. I had messed up a few times already (small things) and it was tied to my horrible sleep cycles. I tried to fight, tried to keep them at bay. I really did, despite the very real possibility that I could die in this skirmish. I owed it to the guys I was traveling with to try and keep them from capture.

A single misstep, a blow to the back of the head. That’s all it took. I didn’t dream. When I woke up we were inside a small windowless room. It was damp and dark. One of the scouts, Duncan, had a broken arm. I had a nasty cut on the back of my head, and another deeper knife wound on my right shoulder. We tried to keep them clean, but…. There’s only so much you can do in conditions like these.

I’d like to say that it was eventful being held captive by an arrogant shithead in a swamp. But it wasn’t. We were held for two weeks. And while they wouldn’t physically torture us, they still played games with us. It was all sleep deprivation and mind games. It all blurs together into an emotional mess after a while.

Not saying they refrained from all forms of physical torment. Sometimes they would beat you if they caught you sleeping. And the lack of sleep will do a man in just as quickly as continued beatings. Sometimes the Avvar would drag us out of our room to taunt us, to decry the great Herald of Andraste. There was one tyrannical asshole who would get drunk and come in to batter us about. I’ve been thrown around more than I care to admit in the past month.

While I was trapped in the Fallow Mire, I had some (I want to say 'a lot' but that's not necessarily true) time to expound on my Dreamer theory. I entered the fade, and travelled to Haven (after a lot of trial and error and praying I wasn't just dreaming), hoping to find Solas and reach out to him. I knew he was a dreamer, he would see me, he would hear me (I hoped).

But what I found when I got there was shocking (though it really shouldn’t have been). It was clear that the battle of Haven had already happened. Red Templars, edges blurring into the fade, charged the trebuchets, I twisted about wide eyed. The sudden overwhelming realization that ‘I never warned Jess’ flit through my brain. This attack came as a complete surprise to her. Granted, at the time I had debated the repercussions of telling her about the attack (would they give away their foreknowledge? Would Corypheus crush the inquisition? How many more lives could we save/lose?). I had decided to tell her upon her return to Haven (which would have been around the same time I returned), but circumstances had seen that I never had a chance. (Procrastination will get you every time)

My horrified gaze caught sight of two figures on a nearby hilltop, overlooking the village. Corypheus was horrifying; His ribs were exposed and stretched out over a glowing red something. Lyrium grew out of his face, skin peeled back from his teeth. He was tall, too tall. Like his body had been stretched to extreme proportions. Bedazzled doesn’t quite cover the amount of glowy red shit that pops out of this fuckers face.

The man standing beside Corypheus was incredibly familiar. He was older. Older than he had a right to be. His hair was peppered with grey, face matured and weathered. His build, the way he stood. It was him. It had to be. “Brandon.”

“Smile warm like a summer day. Laugh soft like a gentle breeze.” I jumped, Cole stood next to me, staring unblinkingly up at the duo. “But it’s wrong. Hate where there was once kindness. You know him.” He turned that all seeing gaze onto me, his eyes wide under the large brim of his hat.

“I knew him.” I found the past tense slipping out of my mouth absently as I tried to tear my eyes from the spirit to look back at the man I had known, what seemed like a lifetime ago, now the stranger on the hill.

“Its wrong wrong wrong.” Cole chanted, echoing my internal turmoil. “How is he here? Dead and buried. Chose to fly instead of fight. How? How many more? How many?”

“Not helping.” I intoned shakily. Brandon had been a friend, a good one, in my early military days. I had received news (well before I had found myself in Thedas) that he had jumped to his death while stationed in Okinawa. I could have called more often, recognized the stiff sad quality to his smile, let him know he mattered. God fucking damnit. I was stuck in a quagmire of Could haves and Should haves when Cole spoke up again.

“You could not have saved him. He wanted to die. What you thought didn’t matter.” Cole stated, wringing his hands as he spoke. “Wait, that didn’t come out right. You’ll forget soon and I’ll try again.” We stared at each other, tears building in my eyes and his wide blue ones trained on me waiting for the memory of our discussion to fade. Confusion worked its way across his face just as I was beginning to wonder how it felt to just forget a man who was staring you in the face. “You aren’t forgetting.” He stated stepping closer, the brim of his hat brushed the top of my head, “How do you still remember?”

“I don’t know.” I warbled, now embarrassed by my own emotions but unable to hold back the tears, “Do you want me to forget you?”

“Yes.” He stated matter of factly, his fists balled at his sides.

“Does everyone forget you?” I asked the idea kind of distressed me. Still does.

“It’s better that way.”

“Sounds lonely.” I sniffled, brushing tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. I turned to look at the blurred image of an old friend. He probably thought that he was better off forgotten too. “I don’t know if I can forget you.” I don’t know who I was talking to. Maybe Brandon, Maybe Cole. Maybe both.

I woke to a boot in the gut. Sure fire way to wake even the heaviest of sleepers. Who needs a good old fashioned bucket of water?

“Wake Up!” A harsh male voice was snarling over and over, making his way through the captured inquisition soldiers again. I spat, a little blood bubbled on the dirt before it was slowly absorbed. I prayed to any deity that would listen that Cole would tell someone else about us. That even though I hadn’t been able to explain, hadn’t been quick enough to ask he would know. Maybe Cole could do what he did best. Help.

Chapter Text

I remember, when they finally came for us, Cole’s was the first face I saw. (though I thought it was a disjointed nightmare at the time) He hushed me, gathering my tired, broken body in his twig thin but surprisingly strong arms, “We are here to help. Sleep.”

I scoffed, my eyes were rolling in my head. I was exhausted, the world was so fucking cold. I just wanted to sleep. “Bout time.” I mumbled through my chattering teeth, not sure if anyone heard me.

Varric’s voice broke through the white noise that surrounded us. “Shit, Someone get the Inquisitor. We need a healer in here.” He knelt next to Cole and lay a hand on my forehead, cussing again at whatever he found. “Hey Scribbles, can you hear me?” It didn’t hit me until later that he had nicknamed me.

“Freezing, but there’s a desert in my throat, so tired. Why is it so dry but so wet all at once?” Cole whispered from above me. I passed the fuck out before Jess barged into the room. From what Duncan says, she was drenched in blood from having ripped the Avvar leader into tiny little pieces. Not sure how accurate that is, but ya know.

I woke up next in a camp in the Hinterlands a few days north of the Fallow Mire. Just like old times, waking up to someone hovering over me. Only this time it wasn’t Jess, It was Solas. Didn’t register at first that I was with our people. I panicked.

I was still feverish. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, my eyes were stuck shut and my head was killing me. A cool hand brushed across my forehead and soft flowing language washed over me. Elvhen, though the accent was very different from what I was used to hearing and to my disoriented mind it sounded foreign, foreign was bad. I made a strangled, rusty sound and tried desperately to curl away from the person who was tending me. “No, no.” I moaned batting weakly at the hand. It caught my wrist gently. This did nothing to decrease my panic. I was beginning to hyperventilate.

The owner of the hand hushed me, “Hamin, Da’len.” thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inside of my wrist. I managed to crack open one eye. Blinking blearily up at the frowning face of Solas. “You are safe.”

“Where-“ I was disoriented. I had no clue where I was or why Solas of all people was hovering above me. “M’ I in the Fade?” My other eye opened. One side was far more unfocused than the other.

“No, Da’len, you are safe in the Inquisitor’s camp.” Solas answered calmly, releasing my wrist when he was certain I wouldn’t attempt to maim him (although I would hardly call it an attempt) again. “You have a fever and the wound on your shoulder is infected.”

“Oh,” I said allowing my eyes to slide closed. It felt like only a second before I opened them again but apparently (Varric informed me later) it had been days. “Who’s the inquisitor?” I asked (like I didn’t already know) as I struggled to crack my eyes open again.

“The ‘Inquisition’ isn’t real unless it has something real to make it. It’s like a spirit.” Cole sat at my bedside and I jumped, my fever addled mind was so confused it was nearly painful. “Jess makes it real.”

I noticed belatedly that I was now on a bed and not a sleeping bag and surrounded by stone walls and not canvas. “I am in the fade.” I moaned and covered my face with my hands, my nose was running and my throat was sore. I sniffled miserably.

“I am real.” Cole reassured, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I am Cole.”

“I remember you. Lo’ Cole.” I peeked at him from between my fingers. “Where are we?”

“The place where the sky was held back.” Cole tapped his feet against the bed frame.

“Skyhold?” I pieced together. Hands clasping my face like it would fall off. My body felt disjointed from the rest of me. I hate the Fallow Mire. Hate it so much.

“Every sound like drum beats behind my eyes.” Cole leaned over me, his hat shielding my poor abused eyes from the candlelight. “The sky will not fall while you sleep.”

When I woke next it was not gentle. I gasped, thrashing in a mild panic. My time in the hands of the Avvar haunted my dreams. Solas was once again sitting next to me, a thick tome open on his lap. He startled and hurried to placate me as I ripped the covers from over my head and shot upright in bed. Solas made a disapproving sound and I made one similar when my head began spinning. “Oh that was a horrible thing to do.” I flopped back over curling up miserably.

“Hamin.” He bid of me. Not that I knew what he wanted at the time, but he said it with such a soothing inflexion I nearly obeyed. “You are safe here, Da’len.” He slid closer. “Among friends. How do you feel?”

“What the heck does that mean?” I asked, burying my still floating head into my knees. I felt better overall, still felt like absolute crap, but no longer on the verge of death or hallucinations.

Solas paused for a moment, “To relax, be at peace.” He lay a hand on my temple, it was cool I pressed up against it with a groan of discomfort. He sucked on his teeth in disapproval. “You have yet to answer my question.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years.” I moaned dramatically, dragging the covers over my face. I didn’t want to see his face when I said that.

He huffed out a breath, sounding equal parts disapproving and amused. A cool wash of magic lapped at my body shortly afterwards. I peeked out from beneath my blanket barrier. Staring blankly at the night stand, noting distantly that there were three books sitting innocently enough on the smooth dark surface. The first installment of ‘Hard in Hightown’ was perched upon its second installment. Atop of both of them sat a very familiar patchwork journal. I hadn’t brought any of my books with me to the Fallow Mire, out of embarrassment and concern that they would not survive the damp. I wonder if they had been packed away for safe keeping prior to the attack on Haven or recovered in the aftermath.

Solas peeled the covers away from my face, a small container of salve in his left hand. He deftly and gently began applying it to what I assumed were bruises on my face. One of those handsy Avvar had a hell of a backhand. “Varric stopped by the other day.” He started casually, his fingers slowly smoothing the healing balm over my cheek bones. “I did not realize he was teaching you to read.” I noted a hint of apology in his tone, and I curled a little tighter in on myself, jaw setting as I became uncomfortable with the conversation.

“What happened?” I inquired finally, not turning to face the mage at my bedside as he capped the salve. “While I was…gone.”

“I think that’s a conversation best had later.” He answered cryptically. I hummed, disappointed but not willing to argue, it was better than the previous vein of conversation. “Sleep Da’len.”

I did a crap load of that. Sleeping. I am sick of sleeping now. Next person to tell me to sleep is going to get a pillow to the face (I’m hoping it’s Solas or Varric they’ve been in and out a lot lately, mother hens the both of them). There are far too many pillows on this fucking bed (which is way too big anyways) I have an arsenal at my disposal. And for that matter this room is way too big for me. I’m apparently in my own set of chambers here. Like I’m important or something. It has a privy attached to it, with a rune heated cask and a small sitting area for entertaining. Not complaining about the bathroom, that’s nice. But the sitting area?

Like I’m going to entertain anyone in my room. I once stayed in a room only large enough for a twin mattress and a nightstand. It was cozy. This is excessive.

Chapter Text

Day 59

I snuck out of my quarters today. Someone posted a guard (They’re learning….which is good. It’s no fun if it’s easy) and Solas had taken my shoes with him when he left (I don’t think he’s realized that I don’t give two fucks about footware in the face of freedom). Only one guard though, and he roamed the hallway which made it interesting. I pressed my ear to the door and counted his paces, watched his shadow pass by under the crack in my door. After I had an idea about his pattern it was easy enough to slip past him. Plus I used some stealth magic; I’m getting pretty damn good at it.

I know they’re concerned about my health, and in their defense the injuries do still feel tight and tender. But if I’m sneaking out from under the noses of the chantry sisters in Haven, with a pretty rockin’ wound in the side. I’ll do so from under Solas’ nose for a healed head wound, an almost healed shoulder and assorted bruising everywhere (I can deal with bruising).

Stepping out of my room I was rewarded with a spectacular view of an Andrastian garden in the works. Statues seemed to be going up everywhere. The air was crisp and clean, I could feel magic buzzing against my skin (to be fair I could feel it inside too, but when your bedridden it feels more like an antsy sensation) My side ached with every breath and odd movement, (I may have underestimated how hard I’d been kicked) and my head hurt. But I needed this, I needed to be outside. As quietly as I could,  I made my way to the battlements before I let the stealth magic slip off of me.

First let me say that the game does not do Skyhold justice. It’s massive. Much bigger than it looks in game. I wager a guess that it’s got twice the indoor space than its depicted as having.

I was situated in the nobles wing. Which made it easy to get to the battlements. The view of the surrounding mountains and the valley below was spectacular. Although I could already pick out prime sniper positions. While they weren’t  choice or even considered high ground, assassins could easily fire into a window or one of the gaping holes in the walls and pick off someone important.

About half way around the battlements (just above the drawbridge) I was starting to ache a little more than I thought was strictly necessary and decided to take a break. Soldiers didn’t really give me a second glance (thankfully). Even as close to where i thought the Commander's office was, there were surprisingly few soldiers. Not that I was complaining. I huffed out a sigh and leaned my back against the cool flagstone.

The door to my right slammed open and I jumped with a startled half yelp and impulsively went into stealth mode. My heart was in my throat and my mind was going a mile a minute, eyes darting around for an enemy. My hand had reached for a weapon that wasn’t there and it took me a moment to realize that I had crouched down and pressed my back into the battlement wall.

The commander strode out of his office looking frustrated. I let out a quiet slow breath, and then another as I tried to organize my frazzled thoughts.  There was a label for what had just happened. PTSD. Fan-fucking-tastic. That’s just what I need on top of everything else I have going on. I squinted at the sun. (realizing belatedly that I had no idea what time it was and Consequently I had no idea which direction was which and no reason to squint at the sun in the first place)

He was most likely taking a break from endless missives and paperwork that sat on his desk. I took a moment to observe him. Bioware had done the man justice, the only inaccuracy I had noted was that in the game his hair was wavy, here it was a mess of loose curls (Varric’s nickname made a hell of a lot more sense). His jaw was still covered in a fine layer of stubble, a day old at most. The scar on his lip was in the same place and he did have the black and red fluff across his shoulders.

He braced himself against the wall a few feet to my left, sighing and running a hand through his hair I quietly crept backwards. The situation I had suddenly found myself in was awkward. I was battered and bruised, in stealth mode and (I looked down at my frigid toes and had to fight back a noise) shoeless. If I suddenly reappeared he might stab first ask questions later.

Unless someone came through a door or the commander moved his break elsewhere, I was stuck skulking as the Commander took in the view. I slowly shuffled back into the corner and eased into a sitting position.

I was stuck out there for a long time. It felt like hours, but it was probably more like twenty to thirty minutes. It was an exercise in keeping my stealth magic activated. I’d never held it for so long. I was starting to sweat buckets with the effort of keeping the cloaking spell up by the time the Commander went back into his office. I dropped the cloaking so quickly I made myself dizzy. It was well past time to make my way back to my room. I hurt, I was tired, and still a bit twitchy from the scare the commander gave me.  I didn’t think I’d be able to slip back in while the guard remained in the hallway.

Turned out i needn't have worried (about the guard anyhow) He was curiously absent when I peeked around the corner. But my door was wide open. I frowned and made my way towards it. Noting there were hushed voices coming from inside.

“- how she got passed the guards.” One heavily accented female voice, it sounded like Cassandra, who I had yet to meet formally.

“She’s an inquisition agent, one of Leliana’s, from what I understand.” Solas chimed in, he sounded a bit miffed. “She most likely utilized her stealth training.”

“So she could be anywhere.” Cassandra concluded.

There was huff of laughter. “I fail to see what’s so humorous Inquisitor.” Solas quipped. The tone he addressed Jess in was clipped. My eyebrows tried to meet my hairline. I’d never heard that tone before, not even when we argued. I wondered what Jess and Solas’ relationship was like. Purely professional or did they not get along at all. It struck me that I knew little about which of her companions Jess valued and which she didn’t like at all.

The (now) Qunari woman had a rather extremist (in that she really disliked you once you gave her reason enough and she would hold to her dislike stubbornly) stance on people once she made up her mind. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she disliked Solas because of his snooty tendencies.

“This is all a bit extreme.” She replied, tone snide. Yeah she definitely didn’t like him. “She probably just went for a walk to get some air. Besides she’s healed by now right?” she was defensive. Was it because of me?

Solas made a small noise of aggravation “Despite the healing that she’s received, she is still injured.” He argued, “Not only in body but in mind as well. You would do well to remember she went through a mentally traumatizing event and needs time to adjust accordingly.”

“Solas is correct, Inquisitor, Lady Waters may suffer from battlefield trauma. Loud noises may startle her, she could blindly lash out and injure herself or others.” Cassandra interjected. I started to curl in on myself when Jess sniped something back, I wasn’t paying attention. They were right. I could have injured someone, or hurt myself accidentally. What would have happened if I’d had a dagger? Would I have hurt the Commander thinking that he was an enemy? I had wandered out of my room selfishly looking for something to occupy me.

Despite knowing that the best place for me was in my room, I didn’t really want to go in there now. I felt like my chest was caving in and I wanted to be anywhere else. I was more than useless like this I realized. I couldn’t go on missions, I couldn’t be an asset, I would be a lump in a bed until I was deemed mentally fit enough for more field work. And despite the abysmal failure that I experienced in the Fallow Mire, the Marine in me wanted to be useful, wanted to go back out. I wanted to prove that I could do it. And do it well damnit.

I didn’t realize I was moving until I was on the battlements and heading down the stairs into the courtyard. I wandered, aimlessly dodging people until I caught sight of the stables. I made my way up into the loft and climbed behind a stack of hay bales near the wall and lay inside a small scratchy hay cave, staring at the slatted ceiling morosely.

Logically I knew it would have been better to just go into the room to stop the fight in its tracks and take the verbal lashing I was sure someone (Solas) was going to dish out. Unless of course that started another argument... I knew all of this was mental exhaustion, probably my unbalanced hormones due to being off my meds. But I wanted to wallow. Wanted to feel something other than fear for a bit. I wished I had thought to drag my journal along.

I don’t know how long I sat there before Cole’s hat entered my line of vision. He had perched himself in front of the small opening in the hay bales, back against the stack. “A dark inky cloud of doubt and hurt. You want it there but why?” My journal appeared in front of me, a modern pen (my modern pen) was carefully placed on top by pale spindly fingers. A single blue eye peered at me quizzically.

“Hi Cole.” I greeted, my voice wavering as I offered him a small genuine smile. “Sometimes people like to simply feel things even if they’re bad.” I reached out and took the journal and pen twisting to lie on my stomach.

“I can help.” He said after a moment, the air filled with the sound of flipping pages as I tried to find the last entry. “I can make the pain less.” I smiled at him sadly. “Hurting, haunted terrified. Find her, heal her keep her safe.” He echoed the thoughts of someone, “You don’t need to suffer. I can help, they want to help.”

“You being here helps.” I reassured him. And it did I felt calm around Cole.

“Solid, a presence. Real and reassuring. Good.” Cole rattled off. “I will stay.” He assured me settling back against the bale of hay, the brim of his hat still visible from the hole.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Day 61

I am sore all over. It’s the good sore. The one that says you got a good workout in and you did something positive with your life. I also found out that I have become a popular topic of gossip, not like Jess was. I mean no one is saying I’ve ripped eight people in half (which I think is a great rumor to have spread around), but… maybe I should start from the beginning yeah?

“Julie,” I woke up to the overly cheerful face of my best friend. “Rise and shine Jules!” she grinned. I groaned and pulled one of the numerous pillows over my head.

Jess snorted and ripped the covers off of me. “C’mon already, It’s time for food.”

“Food?” I inquired peeking out blearily from under my fluffy shield. I am not a morning person. Less so when woken against my will. Jess seems to think it’s hilarious when I’m grumpy. I don’t know why…

“Yep.” She grinned as I groaned again and sat up. “Hurry up and put pants on.”

 I put pants on but I did not hurry. Jess took the opportunity to tell me about some of her companion’s antics.

“-and then Dorian-“ Jess paused in her story thoughtfully, “Have you met him yet? I mean in real life.” I made a noise in the negative as I laced up my pants. “You’ll love him. I’ll introduce you later.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, reaching for some super comfortable looking foot wraps that had mysteriously made an appearance in my dresser (I still couldn’t find my boots damn it) and began to hurriedly wrap my feet.

I was reaching for a hair tie when Jess slapped my hand, “Leave it down, damn it. You look fine, let’s go.”

“Owwww.” I whined, rubbing my hand as she gripped my shoulders and all but pushed me from my rooms. I did manage to snag a hair tie and slip it around my wrist as we left. The rubber was stretched and it was probably going to snap soon. “Unnecessary roughness.” I pouted at her over my shoulder, leaning back to make her efforts more difficult. (It didn’t do anything at all. I did not factor in that she was a massive mountain of a woman and I only a tiny waif of an elf)

We made it down to the main hall as the servants were laying out breakfast. We sat down at a random table to eat and heaped food onto our plates. Jess had just finished half her meal when a messenger appeared like a wraith at her elbow, stuffing a missive under my nose (Which I snagged with a scowl) and then politely laying one for Jess by her plate.

The Qunari woman groaned through a mouthful of eggs and snatched it up. “Damn,” she swallowed hastily and pushed away from the table. “I was hoping I’d have a little more time.”

“Lady Montiliyet requests your presence in the war room, Inquisitor.” The messenger urged causing  Jess to groan again.

“Fine, fine. Sorry Jules.” She grinned sheepishly at me. “I’ve got to take care of this.” She carelessly waved the scrap of paper in my direction.

“At once, my lady.” the messenger harangued.

“Yeah, yeah.” She started striding towards the war room, “I’ll catch you later okay?!” she called back before following the messenger down the hall. I waved at her, still kind of tired, and scanning over my own missive. Lelliana had set up a training session with Nick this morning, at my earliest convenience.

I was surprised, considering the fuss Solas had been making about my mental state just yesterday. Surprised but not unhappy. I needed something to keep my mind occupied, something to help me drag myself out of the funk I was in.

I sighed, scooping some egg onto my fork. A massive shadow fell across the table halting my train of thought. “So, I hear you and Blackwall are a thing.” Bull leered, his voice carrying across the main hall. He turned a chair around so he was straddling it, arms folded over the back. The poor thing creaked under his weight. “It’s the facial hair isn’t it?” he asked suggestively. “I bet he loves to cuddle.”

I gaped at him, scrambled egg falling from a three tined fork back to my plate. “I…. what?”

Bull grinned, leaning forward. Let me tell you if a chair could groan in pain his would be. “Well rumor has it he escorted you back from his quarters early yesterday morning, you both looked like you took a roll in the hay.” God damn spies.

The chair to my left was pulled out quickly; Varric sat down with aplomb, a piece of paper before him and a quill twirling between his fingers. “What’s this I hear about torrid love making in the stables?”

“Oh for the love of God.” I rolled my eyes and stabbed a sausage, pointing it at Bull as I pinned him with a dubious glare. “It’snot what it looked like.” My denial fell rather flat.

 “Oh?” Varric grinned, hand already scribing out shorthanded notes for himself. “Then what was it like?“

Bull rested his chin on his forearms, “Don’t skimp on the details.”

“You are not writing about this.” I hissed at my dwarven friend, turning the speared sausage in his direction.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Scribbles.” Varric assured me with a warm smile.

“Dwarves don’t dream.” I called him out on his phrasing, “So you’ll forgive me if  I don’t believe you.” I stated stuffing the forking into my mouth moodily. After a little more needling (and Bull taking my breakfast hostage) I was coerced into telling the tale of how Blackwall nearly stabbed skewered me with his sword weapon thinking I was an assassin.

“Was it big?” Bull asked with a suggestive grin. “His sword?” I am ashamed to say I didn’t quite catch his meaning at first.

“Well of course it was, it’s not a dagger-“ I paused, looking between the two grinning men, heat rising in my face. “Oh- I didn’t mean-“ I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re a dirty minded son of a bitch, Bull.” Bull let out a booming laugh.

“Scribbles, did you just cuss?” Varric mock gasped.

“Oh, your poor virgin ears.” I snorted, motioning for my plate with a small smile tugging at my lips. “Give me my damn breakfast back. You’ve better things to do than harass me.”

After I finished eating and extracted myself from their company with assurances that I wouldn’t crawl into any more hay lofts, (because they’re both assholes who love tormenting poor elven girls) I meandered down to the Training field to meet Nick.

The man was leaning against the tavern wall, practice blades leaning against the wall beside. He looked me up and down. “You are still injured, we will go slow today.”

We did not go slow. Nick doesn’t do slow. But I did fall a lot less, and I saw a marked decrease in blows slipping by my guard. I don’t know if that’s because I’m getting better, of because slow for him means gentle. He called it earlier than he usually did and handed me a formal set of orders. “You’re being sent to scout under Scout Harding’s command in Crestwood.” The man stated, “Try not to die.”

He’s such a peach. Really he should start a greeting card company.

It occurs to me that I didn’t really talk about the other guys in my squad. A few were hale and whole, a bit battered but they were veterans of the blight, used to combat and were able to redeploy quickly. A couple of us, myself included, bore the brunt of the physical abuses. Duncan Jones and Zevri Varal were two other new recruits who had been seriously injured (far worse than me at any rate).

Last I checked, Jones and Varal were still located in one of the tents in the courtyard. I ducked in to visit after my training session. I caught sight of Jones first, he grinned and sat up as I pushed my way through the tent flap. Bandages stood out starkly against his tan chest, his left arm ended mid bicep. “Hey there crazy! Varal looks who’s up and about!” he called out to his left, a healer gave him a look before she skirted around me and out of the tent.

A dwarf rolled over on her cot, blonde hair knotted messily atop her head. “Waters! Nice to see that you’re still alive!” She wrinkled her nose at me and tossed her lumpy pillow at my head. “Creators you stink, I can smell you from here.”

I caught the projectile easily and tossed it back to her. “Hey, Guys! How’s everything going?” I let a grin cross my face and a tension I’d not known I’d been carrying in my shoulders seeped out.  I moved to sit near both of their cots on the packed dirt ground.

“Shitty.” Varal was the kind of woman who was born with no filter and never gave a shit and probably never would. Good woman, great soldier, just tactless. She rolled so her legs were dangling off the side of her cot; one was still splinted but looked a hell of a lot better than it had. “I have another week before this crap comes off and I can go back to the field.” She spotted my orders and perked up. “Are those orders? You going out again?”

Jones laughed, “So eager.” He shook his head, “Patience is a virtue, my short friend.”

Varal scowled at the human, “Yeah, well I’m not exactly virtuous.” She snarked, slumping back on her cot. “Where you going next Waters?” she turned her attention to me again, still slightly sulky.

“Crestwood actually.” I passed her my orders and she scanned them before handing them to Jones.

Jones hummed, scanning the document before passing it back to me. “From what I hear the Champion of Kirkwall will be meeting the Inquisitor there.“

 “Lucky bastard.” Varal groused, picking at the splint.

 “Yeah yeah, enough shop talk. You guys up to teaching me how to play Wicked Grace or what?” I interrupted with an eye roll. Varal had a deck of cards in her hands before I finished my sentence.

She swiftly shuffled the deck, “Looking forward to being in the field again?”

I shrugged, “It’ll be…easier. I think.” It would, my paranoia would be shared by those around me, and it would help instead of hinder. I knew that it wasn’t healthy to let it fester, I needed to adapt to normal life again someday. But the less I made everyone worry, the more helpful I was. The better.

Varal made a noise in her throat at that. Jones clucked accepting his hand graciously. “Still having trouble sleeping?” Jones inquired struggling to fan his hand of cards.

“Aren’t we all?” My answer was met with a snort from Varal.

“Not me.” Varal grinned, “I sleep like a rock.”

“You’re a regular comedian, Varal.” I deadpanned, fanning my own hand of cards.

“Stop rubbing it in.” Jones groused, nudging the dwarf none too gently with his foot.

“Oi! Knock it off you asshole!”

We spent an hour or two joking over half forgotten hands of cards, before a healer poked her head in and called an end to my visit.

I blinked blearily as I exited the tent sniffing at my shirt and making a disgusted noise at what I found. It was well past time to clean up.  I quickly made my way up to the ramparts, taking the stairs two at a time. I was half way to the Noble’s wing when I happened across Blackwall and the Commander speaking in hushed tones.

“My Lady, a moment?” Blackwall called out to me as I skirted around them self-consciously. “Ah, I’ll speak with you later Commander.”

“Of course, Warden Blackwall.” The ex-templar shot me a curious glance as he turned heel and made his way towards his office.

“My apologies.” He stated, looking mildly uncomfortable. “If I might have a moment of your time.”

“Oh , yeah sure.” I agreed, readily smiling at him.

He shifted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I wanted to formally apologize for yesterday morning.” He looked a little unbalanced by the situation.

“I thought you already had.” I pointed out with a small wry smile. He frowned.

“I apologized for my behavior, not for inadvertently dragging your reputation through the mud.” He reiterated, his ears flushing slightly.

It took me a moment to catch his meaning. The longer I stared at him the pinker his cheeks became. “Oh-Oh! You mean the rumors about-” I pointed between us, my own face heating up.

“I-yes.” He affirmed, clearing his throat and looking out over the mountain pass. “I had not thought about how it would have looked to an outsider.”

I thought back on it, a man barely dressed escorting a disheveled woman covered in hay into the keep. Any one of the guards we had passed was bound to have started talking.

“Well I don’t blame you.” I admitted, “So you don’t need to apologize.” I pulled my hair out of my face as the wind picked up. “Besides, unless you feel the need to escort me across the courtyard again, the rumor mill should die down in a week or so.” I needled teasingly.

He laughed at that. “Do you intend to sneak into my loft again?”

I snorted, “Not if that’s the standard greeting I’d get.” I wagged a finger in the air, “Contrary to what you may believe, most women don’t enjoy being held at weapon point.”

Chapter Text

Day 65

Got to Crestwood two days ago. It’s turning out to be a little too much like the Fallow Mire for comfort right now. We arrived a few days before Jess and her party were due to show and had been fighting undead and wraiths (and if you’re really lucky a rage demon will crop up in the middle of a fight too) almost constantly since.

In addition to the undead plaguing Crestwood Village, the rain was near constant. The similarities wreaked havoc on my senses. I was paranoid, and slept little. What rest I did get was plagued with nightmarish images that slipped away when I woke, sweat drenching my bedroll. But I was still better off than I had been in the Fallow Mire.

I had gotten to know my squad mates on our journey to the forward camp. Scout Harding, was of course our leader. She was a fair woman, cheerful and open with her men. Sean Courtney was an older gentleman, a veteran and a damn good archer. He wasn’t talkative. ‘Just John’ (or JJ as I nicknamed him) was a self-proclaimed infiltration specialist (his specialty was rigging shit to blow up with odd metal mines), deadly and just a little too cheerful about that.

Today was a rough day, Jess had been slated to arrive, but Harding received a Raven reporting that she was held up on the road by bandits. That’s not why the day was rough, but it was a contributing factor. Jess wasn’t a healer, despite her attempts to learn, the magic didn’t come easy to her. She was better suited to destructive spells like Ice or Fire. So when she travelled, she usually dragged Solas along with her as insurance (despite their rather tenuous relationship). I’m hoping she kept to her usual pattern, because right now we desperately need a healer.

JJ and I had forward scouting duty, today. It was easy stuff. Mostly map and observe the surrounding area, this kind of job was quick and quiet. Low risk. Courtney and Harding had mapped out to Crestwood village the day prior so JJ and I pushed out into the hills and promptly ran into trouble.

Red Templars had taken control of a mine in the area, and I’d forgotten exactly where the hell the damn thing was located. Until we stumbled across spires of red lyrium. Then it all came rushing back to me.

The camping site seemed vacant except for a few Lyrium monsters skulking about. “You’re a pretty damn good sneak from what I’ve heard.” JJ observed, nudging my shoulder.

“No.” I immediately rebuked “We need to go back and report this. No way are we sneaking in there without backup.”

“It’s a small camp, the rest of them are probably at the mine.” He pressed, “It’ll be a simple sneak and snag.” I shook my head and hissed at him. He snorted and rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself. I’m not going back empty handed.” He promptly disappeared, the noise from the rain masking the sound of his footsteps.

“What the fuck, John!” I snarled, lurching forward to try and grab a hold of him. My fingers closed around air and I cussed again. The Marine’s ‘no man left behind’ policy was drilled into my thick skull and I followed behind him internally cussing the idiot out.

We inched our way into the camp, sticking to the edges. He was right, the camp was mostly vacant, I counted two mages in addition to the lyrium monsters. John made a beeline to an open sided tent with a heavy looking desk centered beneath it, Paperwork strewn upon its surface. He rifled through the papers eagerly, reappearing as he did so.

“Come on.” I hovered behind him still invisible, eyes cast down the way we came and swiveling to take in the entrance to a grotto with trepidation. “Lets get the fuck out of here.”

“Calm down.” He waved off my urgency, tucking a few pages into his tunic. “We can go now. Got some good stuff on-“

Thumping footsteps that reminded me far too much of Jurassic Park cut him off and I looked past him towards the snarling, face of a mutant Templar. It roared, swinging it’s club like arm at us and I dove out of the way, wincing as papers and wood splinters went everywhere. I jumped up, casting a glance around for John and found him laying gasping for air a few feet away, the lumbering mutant advancing on him.

I snarled a curse and hurled a random grenade at it. I thanked every god that was listening that it happened to be bees. While it thrashed in distraction I scrambled forward and slung John’s arm around my shoulder. I made a beeline towards the grotto entrance (which I now realize was the dumbest thing I could have done).

The monster shook off the last of the bees, roaring in rage and thundering after us. JJ was beginning to sag heavily against me and I turned to drag him further into the grotto only to come face to face with a wyvern. It was big, and incredibly colorful. It tilted its head in a bird like fashion before rearing back to strike. With a yelp I hurled JJ to one side and launched myself in the opposite direction. The Lyrium monster chose that moment to burst in after us, roaring and swinging its crab claw club arm wildly.

It struck the wyvern, causing the creature to hiss and turn it’s attentions from us to the red two legged geode. I scrambled around the fight towards JJ and dragged him across the slick grass towards the rock formations. It was a struggle to haul him up and over one and wedge him into a nook out of sight.

By the time I was sure he was out of firing range the sounds of the fight had died down and I cautiously peaked out to see who had been victorious. To my surprise the Wyvern was still standing. It was a mess, red Lyrium poked out of a wound in its side and one of its legs was now bent oddly.

A shimmering barrier rose across the entrance to discourage the wyvern from going after the remaining Red Templar forces. “Are you still alive, Inquisition?” One of the mages called into the grotto. He sounded gleeful, sadistic cultist asshole.

“Hate to burst your bubble, jackass.” I muttered snarkily. I peered at my (stupid) squad mate, his breathing was shallow, and sounded wet, red streaked his face and his arm was twisted at an odd angle. He probably had a broken rib and a punctured lung to add to the visible problems. There was little I could do for that and I hoped he wouldn’t drown in his own blood before help arrived (if help arrived).

It’s been hours since they erected the barrier, I positioned myself between JJ and the rest of the world, my blades lay out across my lap. The wyvern has eyed us, but has yet to attempt to approach or attack us thankfully. And the Templars have left well enough alone so far. I can only hope they think us dead, and the Wyvern is too weak to try anything.

Chapter Text

Day 66

Those no good sons of bitches. We all know they’re sick assholes, but-

Deep breaths Waters. Start at the beginning, work through it.

I drifted off unintentionally in the night. And woke up rather suddenly, confused as to why the constant sound of rain had stopped, and why the hell the sun was out. Then it hit me. The rift. The rift had been taken care of. Jess was in the area. I turned, allowing my legs to dangle over the side of our refuge to check on JJ. He was still unconscious, breathing, but barely. If we didn’t get help soon, he was going to die.

I froze when I felt something tap my boot and slowly turned to see the mangled wyvern sniffing at me curiously. Blood had dried to its scaly hide and it may have been my imagination but the lyrium that had been lodged in its wound yesterday looked a little bigger today.

It was then that a Red Templar mage dropped the barrier just long enough to poke his head in take stock of the situation “Good Morning, Inquisition!” he greeted snidely and then lobbed a weak fire spell at the Wyvern’s back. He retreated quickly and resurrected the barrier.

The oversized reptile howled in surprise and rage. I screamed, jerking up and out of range of snapping teeth. My life flashed before my eyes (the parts I could remember anyways), as the beast raged below, claws gauging into the rock face before it turned towards the barrier, maw glowing as it built up fire and spat it at the shimmering wall.

Raucous laughter echoed into the grotto from the encampment beyond. Thank God it has a hell of a lot more intelligence than they gave it credit for. Or I’m sure it would have fixated on us and killed us. It snarled, and spat as it limped back to the other side of the grotto and I shakily pressed myself back, closer to JJ.

They slung spells at me and the wyvern (careless. meant to terrify instead of kill I think they enjoyed having me at their disposal) at intervals throughout the day. At one point the Wyvern took to slamming itself into the barrier, weakening it to the point where I saw it waver. The damn bastards threw up a stronger one.

I’m thankfully no longer wet, but I am scorched to hell and nursing a burn on my right arm.

God I hope someone finds us soon.

Chapter Text

“You’ll forgive my oversight, I’m sure.” He levelled an unamused look at me, stepping forward. “I was relieved to find that you still live. My relief overshadowed reason.” His eyes swept over me as if he could assess my physical health that way. “Where are you?” he inquired, gaze intent and tone low and urgent.

“No.” I sighed, as he gingerly applied the poultice and began wrapping my arm. “I’m sorry, I’m tired, and aggravated. I’ve been rescued no less than four times in the past month and a half.” His eyebrows rose. “That’s no reason to lash out.”

I was shocked at the destruction I found in the former Templar camp. A giant dark smear colored the wall across from the exit; I would have thought it was simply soot if pieces of melted armor hadn’t been crumpled in a heap below it. A man was literally in to pieces a few feet to my left. I felt little sadness for the assholes who had tormented us only a few short hours before.

Our ride to the keep was full of chatter. Varric and Hawke, a broad warrior with a gruff demeanor and aggressive look to him, were catching up in the rear of the convoy. Solas and Bull had begun a discussion about shirts in Qunari society and Jess and I rode at the front of the formation. Now that the excitement was over I felt drained and hungry.

“So clueless.” Jess groaned, flopping backwards. “He’s nice to almost everyone, you know barring really stupid people. Dorian told me he actually hugged you.” She shot me a look that said I should be following along. “That’s not normal for him.”

I shot her a knowing look and continued working knots out of my hair. “I’m aware, trust me Jess.”

She heaved a sigh, “I do trust you, I just worry.” She snorted, “I’d feel better if it was just Blackwall that was interested.”

I hurled the comb at her and she laughed unabashedly. “You know that rumor is a load of shit.  I’m not interested.”

I love Jess, but she doesn’t entirely understand my stance on romance. Being Asexual had always meant I needed to wave away well-meaning relatives and friends. Granted I didn’t always know. I guess I started becoming self-aware (for lack of a better term) when I was twenty one.   I started wondering if there was something wrong with me when my relatives would persistently ask after “special someone”s and then reassure me that I’d “find someone someday, don’t you worry dear.” Like it was a tragedy that someone hadn’t snatched me up yet.

Chapter Text

 Day 68

I had nightmares last night. Nothing I'm not used to by this point. I knew it wasn't real, most of the time. Still it was difficult to stay asleep. At one point in the night I migrated to the couch across the room, afraid I would lash out at Jess in my sleep.

"Julie?" Jess sounded concerned.

"Mmmmm"

"What are you doing?" She inquired, sounding more confused now.

"I was sleeping." I snarked, still tired from my fitful night's rest.

"I meant on the couch." She reiterated sounding exasperated.

"My previous answer still applies." I remarked, squirming into a more comfortable position.

She snorted, "Alright smart ass." Something leather smacked me in the face. I flailed for a moment, eyes opening in surprise. Pants. She had thrown pants at me. "Put pants on its food time."

I managed to get dressed in a timely manner; Jess prodded me onwards down to the common hall where everyone was sitting around rough looking wooden tables eating. Most of her companions were around a table to the head of the room. She managed to bring most of them out with her, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Sera were back at Skyhold and Solas and Varric had yet to grace the plebian masses with their presence.

"-Careful dancing around with those daggers when I'm throwing fire." Dorian was admonishing Cole.

Cole merely blinked, "It won't hurt me. It's friendly fire."

Dorian sighed, stabbing at his eggs, "That doesn't always mean what you think it means."

Jess steered me towards a gap between the two men. "Dorian!" she greeted sunnily. I felt offended that she could be so chipper so early. "Haaave you met Jules?" I was plopped onto the bench and blinked blearily at the Tevinter Mage. What a great first impression I must've made.

"I haven't yet had the pleasure." He smiled charmingly at me, despite my doubtless ragamuffin appearance "Dorian Pavus, at your service."

"Nice to meet you," I attempted manners, I really did. "M' Julie." A plate full of food slid in front of me, Jess beamed from across the table. "So Dorian, tell me about yourself." I snagged a piece of toast and jammed it into my mouth (manners lasted all of five seconds) but otherwise ignored the plate of food. I was genuinely curious. I love Dorian in game, the man was a treasure.

"Beyond my being so charming and well dressed? Which is obvious to anyone." Dorian shot back, preening. Blackwall snorted from across the table.

"I'd have to be blind to disagree to that." I muttered, allowing my head to drop onto Cole's shoulder and wrapped my arms around one of his like a boa constrictor. "Morning Cole."

Bull leered at me from across the table, "Careful, Jules. You're making our resident Warden jealous."

Blackwall coughed, "I don't know what you mean." He denied, sounding flustered.

"Is that a blush hiding behind all that hair? I can't tell." Dorian prodded.

"Sure you do, big guy, you were looking real long and hard as she cuddled up to the kid." Bull shot back, slyly. "Just throw her your signature brooding look-Yeah that's the one- and she'll fall right back into your arms."

I huffed, opening one eye as I freed a hand; patting around my person as if looking for something, "I had something for this." I stated, "Hang on….There it is." I reached into my back pocket and promptly presented Bull with my middle finger as if I'd found it there. "The last fuck I'm going to give today. Just for you." I wound my arm back around Cole's and closed my eye. Jess giggled from across from me, and Blackwall chuckled. "You should feel honored." I followed up sagely.

"I'm touched." Bull drawled a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

"Oh I like you." Dorian muttered.

Cole reached over with his other hand and patted my head, "So soft. They want to be free, why do you hide them away?"

"They would rebel," I replied thoughtfully. "Turn against me in the middle of battle."

"They wouldn't mean it." Cole defended.

I snorted, "They rarely do."

"What are they talking about?" Dorian inquired in a stage whisper. "Does anyone know?"

Bull muttered thanks to Krem as the man handed him something, something that smelled a hell of a lot like Coffee.

"Curly hair." I answered finally sitting up, my gaze zeroed in on the Qunari man that sat next to Jess. He sipped his coffee with a grin.

Varric slid into place beside Bull with a disgusted sound, "I don't know how you can drink that crap."

"Blasphemer." I accused absently, leaning over my cooling breakfast plate to get a better whiff of he heavenly smell of coffee. "Do not besmirch the nectar of the gods."

"Seriously, how can you stand it! It tastes terrible." Varric inquired, staring at me incredulously.

"Not with a little cream and sugar it doesn't." Bull took another sip, eye trained on me in amusement. "I take it you're a fan." He addressed me rhetorically.

"Where did you get that?" I asked eagerly. "And how can I get my hands on a cup?"

"I know a guy." Bull answered vaguely. So not helpful. "You can get a mug, if you ask nicely."

"Oh please, the great and fierce Iron Bull, wooer of women and destroyer of evil, may I have a cup of coffee?" I pleaded theatrically, eyes trained on his metal mug.

"Not me," He chuckled and gestured over to the Chargers across the hall with his mug. "Though that was nice."

I did end up getting myself a cup of coffee and Jess gathered up Blackwall, Solas and Cole and headed out to wrap up some business in the hills, something about bandits running amok.

I wandered out to look for Scout Harding, I know she left at some point in game and left someone else in charge, I just couldn't remember the name of the officer. After making a few inquiries I was pointed towards Charter.

"Excuse me, Serrah." She turned to me recognition lighting up her face.

"Ah yes, you must be Waters. Good to see you up and about." She greeted me. "You'll be pleased to know that Butcher is conscious and on his way back to Skyhold." She informed me.

"Butcher?" I inquired, a little confused, JJ was supposedly on his way to Skyhold…

"John Butcher." she reiterated.

‘Just' John Butcher. Butcher was a familiar name, if memory served me correctly it belonged to a dead spy found in the hills surrounding Crestwood. It clicked. That was how he would have died, not even a mile away from the Red Templar camp before he would have either succumb to his injuries or killed by the enemy. Had I not been there….

"Thank you, that is good to hear." I replied, bowing slightly at the waist.

"I'm glad you sought me out," She continued, "I got a missive from Lady Nightingale this morning, reassigning you to a temple in the Western Approach." I blinked, that was a quick turnaround. Granted I was supposed to remain a part of the forward scouting party, not the occupying forces. But still for her to have received a missive and sent one so quickly…

"Of course." I replied, a little hopeful that I wouldn't need to leave too soon. "When do I leave?"

"We have a caravan heading out there soon, should be departing the day after tomorrow." Charter informed me, a runner handed her a missive.

"I'll be ready." I told her and bid her farewell. Damn. Only a day to prep for the trip and say my goodbyes.

I ended up foregoing my packing to explore the keep. I was up near where they had hung the Inquisition Colors when Dorian made a grand reappearance. "It's freezing up here, how do you lot stand it."

He was hunkered down in his Fashionable Tevinter style robes, hands stuffed into his armpits for warmth. "Some people choose function over fashion." I remarked, grinning, he made a face.

"I would prefer not to look like an unwashed heathen thank you." The Altus sniffed. "And those southern circle robes." He shuddered theatrically. "Ghastly."

I scoffed, "I'm sure you could make even a burlap sack look like high fashion." I stated, leaning heavily against the battlements.

"Flatterer." Dorian accused. "So a scout? You seem to see a lot of action for your line of work."

"Is that a nice way of saying ‘Gets into far more trouble than the average scout'?" I inquired, "Because if so the answer is yes, yes I do."

Dorian laughed, "'This was a terrible choice of profession. Red Templars? What could possibly come next?'." He started jokingly.

"Ah shit, a wyvern. I had to ask. My mother was right, I should've been a fisherman's wife." I added on in mock wistfulness. Dorian let out a surprised laugh. I wondered how many people actually added onto his hypothetical dialogue.

"It would undoubtedly be safer than traipsing about the Ferelden countryside." Dorian conceded.

"Would it though?" I mused aloud, "Trouble would find me even in such a role as that." I let silence drift between us for a small moment. "So what brings a man like you to a place like this?" I gestured to the battlements.

"Certainly not the ever charming countryside or the weather I can tell you that." Dorian quipped, leaning up on the battlements next to me.

"Really?" I inquired in mock shock, "You're not an outdoorsman? And here I would have pegged you as a man who loved a good camping trip."

"I did camp once, in the Hinterlands, terrible experience." Dorian volleyed back. We went on like that for a bit, asking questions and not quite giving answers, until it started to drizzle and we ducked back inside the keep to avoid the oncoming storm.

"I should get packing." I sighed, it was around lunch and I'd like to have most of my things ready just in case the caravan moved out early. Of all the things the Marine Corps taught me ‘Prepare for the worst but hope for the best' was probably the most helpful.

Dorian looked surprised, "You're leaving?" I nodded, a sheepish look on my face. "Off to cause more trouble in the name of the Inquisition, I assume."

I laughed, "Hopefully not too much. I'll be somewhere in the Western Approach."

"The Western Approach? We may cross paths again soon then." Dorian retorted, hand moving to cup his chin thoughtfully. "Try not to do anything too exciting until I get there, won't you."

"No promises." I called back to him as I started wandering towards Jess' quarters.

I didn't need to do much packing so much as restocking of supplies. A couple days rations some potions. Those were easy to acquire. I was just stuffing the last of my newly garnered potions into my ruck when Jess opened the door, still clad in blood spattered armor.

"Julie!" She was holding something behind her back. "I got you something." She added on in a sing song voice and promptly produced two wicked looking dual blades.

"Oh Jess!" I crooned, taking hold of them, noting absently that there were still a few spots of blood on the hilt of one and a smear of dirt on the scabbard of the other. "You took these off a dead man just for me?" I held them to my chest and bat my eyes. "You shouldn't have."

Jess smirked, "Well what are you waiting for!? Wave em around a bit, see how they feel!"

They were very well balanced, better than the blades I had now (considering I got them at the refugee camp forever ago and they were garbage back then too). The hilts fit comfortably in my hand. "Thank you, Jess. I love them." I sheathed them and placed them with my armor by my pack

Jess took note of my stuff and frowned, "You leaving?"

"In a day or so. I got orders from Lelliana to forward scout at a temple in the Western Approach." I explained, shrugging. I did like the field, it was interesting, and hopefully I could stay out of immediate danger there. I knew there would be a Venatori presence and maybe a giant. But for the most part I would be sneaking and scouting until Jess and her entourage arrived.

"Seriously, Jules. Be careful out there." Jess cautioned. "Venatroi are everywhere, they're not a group to take lightly." I shot her a look. "I know you know! Damnit, can you let me worry about your wellbeing?! You get captured or seriously injured again I might die of a heart attack."

I sighed. "I'll be fine, Jess." I pulled her into a hug, ignoring the sharp edges of her armor. "By all means worry, get a few more grey hairs." She scoffed and flicked my ear. I yelped and sprung away from her, covering the stinging appendage with a hand.

Jess looked surprised at my reaction. "Oh-I…am so sorry." Not sorry enough it seemed because she started laughing.

"It's not funny, that fucking hurt!" I groused at her, rubbing my poor abused ear.

"I- Your face!" She wiped a tear from her eye and I snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." I plopped onto the bed, "You'll get yours."

Chapter Text

Day 69

Nearly two and half months in Thedas. Shit. Has it really been that long already? I should maybe get the date from someone….I thought I wouldn’t need to at first, but then Jess. And now…

I miss my family, and the pain won’t ever go away…but it’s fading a little I guess. Numbed by everything that’s happening so far, or maybe I’m still hopeful that I could get back someday…

Another night of nightmares. This time, that damn desire demon caught up to me. It had been a while; I was wondering how long it would take her to find me.

I was sitting on that rock formation in the Grotto (its always the damn grotto now)staring down at the ground. There were bodies everywhere. Danyll, Thresas, Liwyn, Piriel, all my squad mates from the Fallow Mire, JJ, my parents, Jess, the list went on.

“You couldn’t save us all.” My brother appeared next to me, his legs dangling off the edge of the rock face. It seemed taller than before. “You aren’t strong enough, you aren’t brave enough.” He scoffed, “Some Marine.”

I clenched my fist. “You really should stop wearing that illusion.” I nearly growled at it. It only smiled at me, the eerie plastic expression was wrong on such a familiar face.

'Wrong, so wrong. You are good and strong.' Something whispered in my head. Something that sounded remarkably like Cole.

“You’ll fail again. You’ll get more people killed.” Its voice was layered beneath my brother’s as it cooed, leaning forward, illusion peeling off of it like a shedding reptile. “I can help you be more.”

'Not your fault, nothing you could have done.'

I made a noise and leaned backwards. “Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Impudent mortal.” She snarled, obviously not impressed by my lip, “Desolate Dreamer! You would deny me a second time?!”

She made a grab for me. And I willed myself to be away from her. A rush of energy and I was standing clear across the grotto, the desire demon shrieking at me (now sounding less human and more velociraptor-ish). Someone doesn't take rejection well at all.

“She wants to give you what you want but she can’t.” Cole’s voice piped up from beside me, I reached for my dual blades, thankful that they were strapped to my person. “Your space, your mind, you have control."

I tapped my blades together, the sound of metal on metal jolted me, focused me, “Let’s fuck her up.” I snarled, Cole drew his own weapons and we charged.

Between Cole and I, the demon didn’t last very long. She fell with my blade in her gut.

I groaned as she dissipated into the fade and lay on the grass. Cole stood nearby. “Thank you.” I said into the stillness of the fade.

Cole shrugged, “You had hurt, a pearl all wrapped up and rattling around.” He gracefully dropped into a cross legged seated position. “I helped. It is less now.”

“By helping with the demon?”  I inquired squinting up at one of the giant Halla statues.

“Missing pieces, jagged edges. Nothing fits, nothing is right.” Cole shook his head “Waiting hoping, praying. You want to go back there, but don’t know how you got here.” He rocked forward and back slightly. “It was hard. But I found a piece.”

An image of myself, hair pulled back tight, donned in my desert Camouflage uniform appeared before us. A phone pressed to my round (human) ear. “You know I love you, right sis?” the words were muffled with a layer of static.

The memory of me clasped the phone tighter in its hand, knuckles going white. “What’s going on? Matt? What’s happening?”

The memory faded out bleeding into the fade. “Cole.” I breathed out eyes still trained on the spot where my human self had just stood. “Where- Did you-”

Cole shook his head, “Slippery, like oil, impossible to grasp.” I wilted, but Cole wasn’t done. “But I can bring you to them.”

I woke up abruptly to a particularly loud snore and groaned, my eyes still felt heavy and the sun wasn’t even up yet. “Jess.” I grumbled, whacking at the thick arm that was crushing my chest impatiently. She snorted and released me, rolling towards the edge of the bed. Despite my exhaustion I wasn’t able to fall back asleep, I felt antsy, like the large room was far too small. Carefully, I eased out of bed and dressed in the dark.

I wandered the halls in an exhausted daze, the chilly Ferelden air helped wake me as I meandered up the battlements towards the Inquisition Colors. There were a few clouds dotting the sky, the moon was sinking, we had at least a few more hours before daybreak. I leaned against the wall overlooking the lake. You could see red luminescent dots drifting through Old Crestwood. It was eerie. I closed my eyes, content to just drift a little.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A gruff, unfamiliar voice inquired from far too close. I jumped, reaching for a dagger that wasn’t there. I was met with the sight of Garrett Hawke quirking a brow at me, dressed in full armor, broad sword strapped to his back.

I let out a steadying breath and then another. “Oh no, I love wandering the battlements like a wraith in the night.” I retorted dryly. Not my finest moment, getting snarky with the seemingly aggressive Champion of Kirkwall. But in my defense I was still tired, had just battled it out with a Desire demon in the fade and woke up feeling rather suffocated. Which meant I had zero fucks to give and no filter to boot.

To my surprise the man chuckled darkly, moving to lean against the wall a little ways away. “Me neither.” Silence stretched between us as I slowly allowed myself to relax against the wall again, watching the sky’s hue change slowly. “Varric writes about you often in his letters.” His voice jolted me out of my thoughts when pinks began appearing near the horizon.

“What?” I grumbled, blinking drowsiness away, “Why?”

“He finds you interesting.” Hawke rumbled, twisting so he was facing me, “Thought I might as well.”

I stared at him grumpily, still tired and not willing to think much on what he was saying. “Well, was he right? Do you find me interesting Messr Hawke?”

He tilted his head, calculating gaze cutting into me, “Increasingly.”

I snorted, closing my eyes and letting my head rest against my folded arms. “I fail to see why.” I did. I was a subpar scout, lost in this world despite my foreknowledge, and aside from not having a believable background I had nothing outstanding going for me.

Hawke moved closer, leaning against the battlements next to me. I could see his boots a little over a foot to the right of my own. “Not many people would do what you did for your squad mate.” He explained.

I peeked up, chin still propped up on my arms, Hawke was watching me like his namesake. It was a look I’d rather not be on the receiving end of. “According to that healer of yours, Solas?” He nodded to himself, “He would have died if you’d moved him, died if you’d left him. But you stayed with him, and made sure he lived even though you could have died yourself.”

“I think you’re forgetting about the obstacles that were in my way.” I pointed out, standing up straight. “The barrier, the Red Templars, the Wyvern-“ I ticked off.

Hawke snorted at that, “If you truly wanted to escape, you could have.” He truly believed it. And the more I thought about it the more I believed him.  I could have gone all stealthy rogue and waited for them to drop the barrier before slipping out. I could have done a lot of things. But I stayed. Leaving JJ hadn’t even been an option that crossed my mind. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”

The realization must’ve shown on my face because he huffed a quiet laugh and ruffled my hair, “Give yourself some slack. Remember, we are our own worst critics.” And then he just walked off, the light from the rising sun catching his armor. “Take care of yourself kid.”  I just got a pep talk from the Champion of Kirkwall… Fucking weird.

I meandered down to breakfast after that, relieved to find Hawke wasn’t present. Jess spotted me immediately and beamed, waving me over. Cole sat to her right and Dorian to her left, looking pristine as ever. I dropped into the seat across from the Tevinter mage muttering a good morning.

“How are you still tired?” Jess inquired, curiously, “You’ve been up for at least an hour. Wandering the keep from what I heard.”

I snorted, and snagged a piece of toast from a plate in the middle of the table, “I was probably closer to sleep walking than I was wakeful wandering.” I bit into the bread, humming in appreciation.

“I heard that you spent the morning staring dreamily into Garret Hawke’s deep brown eyes.” Varric teased, dropping down next to me, grinning mischievously. I shot him a withering look.

Dorian leaned forward, a sly look on his face that indicated his inner gossip monger was surfacing. “A romantic encounter on the battlements? Do tell.”

“There was an encounter, but it was hardly romantic.” I rebuked, stuffing the rest of my toast in my face and levelling an unimpressed look at the table at large.

Dorian hummed in denial and I rolled my eyes. “We happened to be in the same place at the same time, we talked, and he left. I came to breakfast. Nothing romantic about it.” Seriously, why are they all so fixated on my love life? Christ, they’re worse than a gaggle of aunts at a family reunion.

“That’s not the way Hawke tells it.” Varric argued, still sporting a shit eating grin.

I turned to him, frowning heavily. “He literally just walked off, not even five minutes ago. There’s no way-“ an idea occurred to me, Varric was either lying through his teeth or he’d seen the whole thing. “Did…were you spying on us?” Varric paused in buttering a piece of toast for a fraction of a second but it was enough of an opening for me to pounce on. “You were! You were sneaking around!”

“I would never. That would be immoral and intrusive!” Varric argued, looking far too interested in the melting butter on his slice of bread. “Besides spying implies that the two of you were somewhere private, not silhouetted atop the battlements by the rising sun.”

I gaped at him. He shot me a wicked smirk. “We’re talking about that book of yours Varric whatever-your-middle-name-is Tethras.”

“If you must know, I don’t have a middle name.” The dwarf informed me cheekily. I huffed, and snagged his bacon off of his plate in retribution. The topic blessedly changed after that and I left the table to finish packing, bidding them all goodbye if I didn’t see them before I left in the morning.

Today was my last day “off” before we start our week long trek to the Western Approach. It’s both a blessing and a curse that the trip will be on horseback. I’m not an equestrian. I mean, are horses pretty and majestic? Yes. Are they a wonderful way of cutting down on travel time in this world? Of course. Do I necessarily like being on them all the damn time? Fuck no.

It makes me wonder about the reason Elves invented Eluvians. Saddle sores and bug bites must have annoyed some mage so much he decided, fuck it. I’m making magic mirrors that I can walk through. Get from Arlathan to wherever else I wanna go in minutes and skip horses and mosquitoes.

Smart mage. My hero. Now if only the knowledge on how to make them wasn’t lost.

Still we’ll only be travelling a week, though if we calculate weather and possible run ins with bandits and enemy soldiers it could be longer. We’re travelling with soldiers, merchants and traders. Some are going to the Exalted Plains, some to the Emerald Graves, and some all the way up to Val Royeaux.

I’m excited to see the world and meet new people. But trekking through the Frostbacks is going to suck.

Chapter Text

Day 72

I was right. Travelling through the Frostbacks sucks so much. SO MUCH.We’re riding hard and stopping seldom. Not that we need to stop often, everyone has mounts and the merchants are in wagons.

My everywhere hurts. And I’m pretty sure Princess Clip Clop hates me.  I groaned as I stowed my tack and shot a suspicious glare into the soulful eyes of my Ferelden forger.

“Not a fan of horses?” A semi-familiar voice inquired, amusement lacing their tone.

“They're dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.” I answered, parroting Robert Downey Jr. and came face to chest with Krem. Bull sent a small contingency of Chargers with the convoy, mostly to protect the merchants. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Krem with all the riding and alternative forward scouting (which required me to get off of Princess Clip Clop and run all over creation…it was glorious). And by the time we’ve made camp I was crawling into my tent for the night, exhausted and hoping Cole would show up to bring me to wherever my memories were stored.

“I don’t think we’ve formally met yet, I’m Julie.” I introduced myself, smiling tiredly.

“I've heard of you.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “The inquisitor’s friend right?” I nodded, with an eye roll. “I’m Krem, Iron Bull’s second in command.” He held out a hand and I took it, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you Krem.” I groaned and stretched, “Welp I should go sit..” I trailed off taking a few staggering steps towards a fire, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and wavered. “Somewhere…” I hated walking into situations like that one there. Knowing no one, and sitting among them, almost all of them knew one another in some way, shape or form; they were part of the occupying force. They’d been together for a while.

Krem cleared his throat. “You can sit with us if you want.” He offered, seeming amused by my sudden indecision on where to sit. While I didn’t know the chargers I had just met Krem, and his was a semi familiar face.

I sagged with relief. “That would be great.”

I sat with the Chargers, content to just listen after initial introductions were made. The game glossed over how large Bull’s company truly was. Only introducing you to some of the key players. Krem was the only face and name I recognized here. I stayed with them until I was pulled aside by a fellow scout, Lissa, and told I had scouting duty.

We weren’t supposed to wander out too far, only investigate and return to report. Soldiers would be deployed to handle anything pressing. I was nearly halfway through my patrol route, sufficiently cloaked and enjoying the peace of the forest while testing my tracking skills (nothing but fennec and nug tracks so far), when I heard the snarl of a demon. I almost hightailed it back to camp to report but a cry of pain caught my ear and I instead rushed toward the sound (like a self-sacrificing idiot).

What I saw I almost didn’t believe. A familiar mage was fighting five demons; a rage demon had him cornered. Fucking Anders was right here, in the Frostback mountains. He was scraggly, but still recognizable. Anders (fucking ex -warden, mage rights activist, chantry destroying, body sharing Anders) was bleeding heavily from his right arm. It hung limp at his side as he tried to fend off the onslaught one handed. 

I’d like to say that I hated Anders for all the chaos he started, for all the lives he’d stolen. I’d like to say that I thought long and hard about letting him fend for himself. But I’d be lying. Sure all that shit pissed me off, I mean how many people did he kill? How many lives were lost as a direct result of his actions in Kirkwall?

At the end of the day, Ander’s actions had been heavily influenced by Justice (or Vengeance…whatever the fuck it called itself now). At the end of the day, the man regretted the fact that he’d taken lives. At the end of the day, Anders was still aperson. And I couldn’t just let him die, not if I could help.

The rage demon had batted Anders’ staff away from him, knocking the man to the ground. Blue was starting to shine from the man’s eyes, vein across his face, and the demon had reared up preparing to finish him off. So I did something really stupid. (but it worked so I suppose maybe I should do more stupid shit)

I rushed out from behind the outcropping of rock I had hidden behind, “Hey! Ugly!” The blue light receded from Anders’ eyes and his head whipped to stare at me uncomprehendingly, the demon lurched around with a snarl and I launched at it, burying my dual blades into its chest. “Well don’t just lay there, fucking do something!” I demanded, tugging my blades free and swiping at the demon a few more times. It let out a death knell (Anders ha done a number on it already) and I turned my attention to one of the four wraiths in the clearing.

I felt Ander’s cast barrier as I launched at the nearest green spirit, cloaking myself as I circled the damn thing. A few jabs and it was finished, screeching as it dissipated. Ander’s had finished off another one, having healed his arm while I distracted the first. And we converged on the third and fourth making short work of them.

 “Thank you.” Anders was looking at me strangely.

I sheathed my blades, trying to get my breathing under control. “You’re welcome…Is there something on my face?” I patted my face down expecting to find demon blood spattered there or something. But no, nothing.

“I- No you’re fine.” Anders he huffed, “It’s just…You’re remarkably trusting.”

I quirked a brow. “Should I be suspicious?”

“I am an apostate.” He brandished his staff at me incredulously. “And you’re alone. With me. The apostate.”

“I’m really not following here buddy.” I deadpanned, I mean I was following his train of logic, but I was also enjoying giving him shit.

“Never mind.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was long and in need of a trim. His stubble had grown into a rather unruly beard. And his clothes looked ragged. “Thank you, again, for your help.”

“No problem.” I took a few steps back the way I came, intent on finishing my patrol, when my conscience chose that moment to kick me in the teeth. “Hey,” I turned back to him, brows furrowed. “You want to come back to camp with me? I mean I have to finish my patrol first but we have more than enough rations to spare, and there’s safety in numbers-”

Anders laughed a little manically. “You don’t even know my name.” He was clearly suffering after spending so much time alone with that spirit in his head. “You’re offering sanctuary to a stranger.” He bent down to shoulder a worn old pack.

“Well what is it?” I asked, “Your name.”

He blinked at me “And-“ he nearly told me his old nickname out of habit, a flash of panic crossed his face and then was gone. “Andrew. My name is Andrew.”

“Mine’s Julie.” I replied, not paying any mind to his slip up. “I’m an inquisition scout.” I held out a hand, “Trust me buddy, they don’t get stranger than us.”

He shook my hand with a wry smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Anders accompanied me on the remainder of my patrol, luckily we ran into no other problems. He paused at the edge of the camp when we arrived, an odd look of uncertainty and hope crossing his features. I turned back and looked at him expectantly, “You coming?”

He smiled at me, it was painfully familiar. I’d seen that smile in the mirror enough times to recognize it. “Of course.”

I reported into my superior officer, he cast a dubious glance between me and Anders before waving me off with a stern warning to not “wander out so far next time.”

I led Anders over to the Charger’s fire explaining who they were as we went. “Andrew this is everybody, Everybody this is Andrew.” I sat with a flourish.

“Andrew was it?” Anders nodded (Jesus this is going to get confusing.) “My name’s Krem,” the Lt. introduced him to the rest of the chargers, and started an amicable if slightly interrogative line of conversation. Anders to his credit dodged the questions skillfully, telling half-truths and omitting things instead of outright lying.

 “Well I thought for sure we’d need to send a search party out after you.” Krem stated, gaining my attention. “But instead you brought back a stray.”

“Hey,” I protested, accepting a bowl of stew from the Charger seated to my left. “Hurtful. I only got captured twice thank you very much.”

Krem chuckled, “Right and how many patrols have you been on?”

I blushed and stuffed a spoonful of stew into my mouth to keep myself from saying something I'd regret.

 “Twice?” Anders chuckled, and turned to smile at me, “Aren’t scouts supposed to be stealthy?”

I swallowed a mouthful of stew and turned a baleful glare to the man “Are you saying I’m a bad scout? I’m sorry, I found you didn’t I?” I protested, crossing my arms defensively “Scouted the shit out of you.”  

“Oh yes, well done.” Anders retorted, still joking. He’s an infuriating asshole. “I feel thoroughly scouted.” Krem snorted. Anders aimed a winning smile in my direction. An adorable, fluffy, infuriating asshole. Why did I save him again?

Chapter Text

Day 74

Emprise Du'Lion is cold as shit, my feet are numb, and I'm almost at the point where riding the damn horse is more enjoyable than walking. I might be in a better mood if my companions weren't so mistrustful of one another…or if I could just get some damn alone time. I mean Patrols used to be my alone time, it was a nice reprieve from camp. I suppose instead of angrily ranting I should explain.

Krem had caught me before bed the night before last, pulling me aside so Lissa couldn't eavesdrop from inside the tent. "Listen I've been meaning to talk to you about your apostate-"

I groaned, "Just because I brought him back to camp doesn't make him mine, damn it."

Krem rolled his eyes, "No but he's practically stuck himself to your side. Don't think we haven't noticed how he follows you around like a lost puppy." I opened my mouth to protest again but thought better of it when the mercenary glared at me. "Just be careful." He warned, shaking his head slightly. "He's hiding something."

"Who Andrew?" I questioned, perhaps a bit too quickly and my voice an octave too high. "Nah the guy's a kitten."

"He's an apostate." Krem continued to glare at me, clearly unimpressed. "A lone apostate. That usually means trouble."

"We're all hiding something, Krem." I retorted with a sigh, "But I'll be careful, I promise."

The warrior nodded, appeased for the moment. And I naively thought that was the end of that particular train of drama. But more on that later.

I dreamt that night, frightful nightmarish dreams full of blood and destruction. It was hardly restful and left me feeling far more strained than I had felt the night before. I woke cold, grumpy and in dire need of some time to myself. I bitched and muttered to myself (as was my custom when I was suffering from coffee withdrawls) even as I dressed quickly in a long sleeved undershirt, my leggings and boots.

Striding out of the tent with my hygiene kit in hand, intent on being first in line for the water basin (Or at least beat the rush), I promptly tripped over Anders. He awoke with a groan as I spat out a cuss (or seven). "Falling for me already?" He joked, hand to his side, that damn smile already plastered on his face.

"Witty." I snarked at him, standing slowly and brushing dirt off my pants. "What are you doing sleeping outside? In the cold?" I shot him an unimpressed look, "In front of my tent?"

"Well I had set up in front of the fire," He explained throwing back the bedroll with a shudder, his stocking clad feet rubbing against the material to ward of the morning chill. "I must have shifted in my sleep. I have been told I'm an…active sleeper."

I glanced between the tent and the fire. It was an awful long way for someone to roll in their sleep. I ultimately decided to let it go. "You'll catch something if you keep sleeping outside." I frowned around, there had to be someone with room in their tent.

"I think I can handle-" I raised my brows and crossed my arms "Don't look at me like that!" He stood to go fetch his boots from where they lay by the fire. "I can handle a little cold, it's not the first time I've slept in such conditions and it certainly won't be the last." He stuffed his feet into his boots with a contented sigh. "Apostate, remember?" he pointed out.

I huffed, he had a point. It was a shitty point, but he still had it. "Well you don't have to as long as you travel with us; I'll see what I can do." I was internally kicking myself for not having procured him a place to sleep the night before.

I made my trip to the basin, dunked my head into the barrel (the only way to do it in freezing cold temperatures) and then scrubbed at my face before toweling off and setting up under a nearby tree to brush and braid my hair again.

Anders found me mid braid, he had shaved his beard and washed his face. I nearly had to do a double take as he sat next to me. "So I know you're not normally a morning person, but you seem especially grumpity today."

"Grumpity?" I repeated, I thought I would never hear someone else say that. He just stared at me expectantly. I sighed. "I Haven't been sleeping well is all. I'm sorry If I've been snappish."

"Nightmares?" Anders prodded.

"More like memories from within the fade that are nightmarish in nature." I told him. "I'm not very good at extracting myself from them." I admitted.

"You actually wander the fade?" Anders inquired incredulously. He leaned in close, eyes darting around us and then narrowing on me appraisingly. "You're a mage?"

"Not that I'm aware of. My friend says I'm a dreamer." I explained, tying off the end of my hair, and stuffing my comb into my bag and leaning back against the tree, watching my breath come out in white clouds.

"That is remarkable. I've only met one dreamer, he was unfortunate enough to attract the attention of several demons." Anders recounted, "I wonder what happened to him…" I watched him as he seemed to wander off in his own mind before he shook himself, trying to refocus.

We packed up camp and I became aware of another logistics issue. Ander's didn't have a horse. "I can walk or hitch a ride on one of the merchant's wagons." The mage protested when I started searching for a familiar Charger.

"Oh no you don't." I admonished waving at Krem once I spotted him. "Krem! Few questions- no favors, few favors to ask." He drew close and looked between the two of us. "You wouldn't happen to have room in a tent for another body would you?" I jammed a thumb in Anders' direction. "He needs someplace to hunker down while he's with us."

The man raised a brow, "Stitches has some room in his tent, I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing. Anything else you needed?"

"Got room for a stray in your wagon?" I inquired, Krem grinned. Anders groaned.

The travel was typical today. I was called on to scout forward on several occasions; Anders appeared every single time. It was uncanny, and annoying if not a wee bit helpful.

"Alright, what gives?" I inquired, tugging my blade out of the hide of a recently felled wolf. "And don't give me that shit about needing some air. There's plenty of it in the back of the wagon."

"Well, someone has to make sure you don't go missing on patrol." Anders joked. "I'm surprised they even let you out of sight anymore." I just looked at him. Trying to convey the phrase ‘Fucking Really?' with only my eyes. It had the desired effect when he sighed and stuck his staff to his back. "All right, fine. I owe you for saving my life back there." I mentally called bullshit, he could have just went super mage on the beasties and been done with it, sure he'd have been injured but alive.

"This isn't one of those life debt deals is it?" I inquired dubiously. I mean I doubted he'd want to come back to Skyhold anyhow, what with Varric and Hawke. I was a bit surprised that he'd stuck around this long in the first place. I'd been half expecting he'd be gone the morning after I'd invited him to camp.

"Maker, no." Anders laughed, raking his fingers through his hair as we trekked forward. "Nothing so rigid as all that, just showing my gratitude and of course taking advantage of a hot meal and good company."

I snorted, "Flaterer." I accused, no real venom in my tone. "So how long do you think you'll be with us?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Anders shrugged, "You're heading to the Western Approach, yes? So, probably until the Exalted Planes." I nodded, a majority of the trip then.

The terrain was becoming less mountainous, but still staying frigid and snow covered. Nearing the Emprise Du'Lion. The main convoy would be skirting around the area, heading towards the Emerald Graves. Some of the convoy, mostly merchants and a few soldiers, splintered off towards the forward camps around midday.

We didn't stop for food, munching on trail rations as we went. Anders had sequestered himself in the back of the covered wagon, while I drudged ever onward on Princess Clip Clop's back.

You remember how I thought the whole ‘Be careful of the dangerous strange apostate' conversation was over? Well imagine my shock and ire when not just Anders but a charger showed up to trail after me on my evening perimeter patrol. The tension between them was there, well hidden beneath smiles and banter but there. I sighed as we trudged through the snow, my socks were already wet and I could see the tell tale glow of Red lyrium spires in the distance. It was going to be a long patrol.

Chapter Text

Day 76

All things considered, the trip around/through the Emprise De'lion was uneventful. Despite the heavy Red Templar presence in the area, we didn't run into too many of the fuckers. Mostly because we sent out patrols of soldiers with the scouts to make sure there weren't any lying in wait for the convoy

My patrol (which had a contingency of Chargers instead of regular soldiers) ran into a small patrol of four men who we quickly dispatched. That was the height of the whole miserable experience for me.

We're in the northernmost portion of the Emerald Graves now and I'm itching for some alone time. It's been days since this babysitting crap started up, and I feel drained. I can only deal with people for so long before I need to sequester myself away and recharge. And being smothered by both Anders and the Chargers is taking its toll on me.

I'm really starting to get annoyed with it all. Anders operating off of some weird sense of gratitude and camaraderie is one thing. But the Chargers literally giving up a man for every patrol I run, just to keep an eye on Anders whose keeping an eye on me? Fucking ridiculous.

So I did what I usually do, and snuck the hell off. I swapped shifts with Lissa, (who was usually assigned the perimeter patrol just before mine) and used my talents at sneaking to leave camp unnoticed. It was like I'd had something sitting on my chest for the past two days and it finally got the hell up and left. I allowed myself to breath deeply. The temperatures were becoming more humid as we skirted around the Emerald graves.

There were trees and climbing plants everywhere. I decided on a whim to pluck up some elfroot while I was out, it was literally growing in patches and I'd heard the Req officer complaining we were running low. I hadn't noticed I'd let my stealth magic slip until I heard the creak of a bowstring being drawn back. "You've wandered into an area you shouldn't have, Shemlen." I dropped the plants in my hands, holding them up over my shoulders in a sign of surrender.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I muttered to myself. Did I have a sign attached to me somewhere that read ‘please hold me at weapon point'? My cowl, a standard scout's hood, was up and I allowed it to slide back as I stood to face them slowly. "Look I don't want any trouble."

Dalish elves, two of them had me cornered. "A flat ear?" One of the men, a red head with half of his head shaved, the other half cascaded down past his shoulder, a few braids peaking out from within the locks.

"Okay, ouch." I retorted, hands dropping to perch on my hips. "That was just rude."

"Silence," The other elf, a younger looking male with dark brown hair, shaved but for the top of his head hissed, stepping forward slightly. "You should have thought of that before you stumbled across us."

"Thought that my delicate sensibilities would become crushed by one of the People? Or thought of not running into trouble?" I queried, irritated.

He danced forward a step, changing his arrow's target from my chest to my face. "I said, silence." I wiggled my fingers and shrugged in apology. He backed away slightly, "What should we do with her, Garahel?" Grumpy elf inquired, shooting his friend a sidelong glance.

"Do?" Garahel lowered his bow and motioned for his young friend to do the same. "You cannot be contemplating killing her, surely?" he glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to his companion.

"She is obviously a scout for some Shem lord's troops." Grumpy elf still had an arrow notched though it was no longer pointing at me.

"She is." I interjected ‘helpfully'. Earning a set of glares from my would be captors. "And she has a name." They ignored me.

"If we do anything untoward, the Shems would drive us away." Garahel explained, running a hand through his half head of hair. "This expedition is too important to jeopardize over one flat ear."

Again with the slurs. I frowned. They didn't truly bother me, but the fact that they threw them around did.

"If she's a scout, then perhaps they are already moving to drive us out." The brunet elf is damn near vengeful and blood thirsty. And I don't envy his buddy needing to talk him out of killing everything all the time.

Garahel sighed, "We could take her with us back to camp. Question her, and then let Taven decide what to do."

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. No. Not again.

"Nope." I voiced my denial aloud. Both of the Dalish Elves turned to look at me in confusion. "Not going to happen. It was nice meeting you. But, I really need to get going." I was starting to feel the tremors that preceded panic or a fight reaction. I wasn't entirely sure which.

Grumpy elf scowled at me, "It was not a request."

I crossed my arms, brow raised trying to maintain my illusion of calm, discretely palming a smoke bomb as I did so.

"I think you forget, friend, just who has who outnumbered." Garahel reminded me, raising his bow.

"I haven't forgotten." I stated. Heart hammering in my throat, I let the smoke bomb drop. It shattered, smoke swirling around and I vanished, slowly backing out of he inky cloud as the Dalish scouts cried out in anger. Garahel, made a noise of protest and then Grumpy Elf let his arrow fly. I don't know if he could see me, or if it was just a lucky shot, but his arrow struck me in the shoulder sending me falling forward. I gasped, the illusion of invisibility slipped for a second. I could hear their feet pounding on the forest floor, or perhaps it was the beat of my own heart in my ears as I stared down at the arrow tip that was sticking out of me. I slammed the invisibility spell back up and shakily hauled ass back the way I came. They gave chase, because of course they did. I was bleeding now and easier to track.

My shoulder burned, but the adrenaline helped overcome he pain. Bumped into trees, tripped on roots. They go a hold of me once, the arrow jerked and creaked as he pulled me to his chest, red hair (Garahel then) cascading over my shoulder. I lashed out kicking at knees and sending the man cussing into the dirt. Twice, this time the arrow snapped I screamed and bit down on the man's arm, and elbowed him in the nose, before I staggered into the forward camp.

A sea of concerned face seemed to surround me. I fell to my knees, sound swimming in my ears as if I had water trapped in them. "Waters!" A voice barked through my haze and I snapped my head to stare at a soldier, his hands were on my shoulders, "What happened?"

"-move damn it I'm a healer." A familiar voice snarled, pushing past the crowd and brushing the soldiers hands away impatiently. "Julie? Jules? Can you hear me?" he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"Hey Anders." I muttered, or tried to, it was jumbled and muffled and he didn't seem to notice my slip because of all of that.

"Damnit." He cussed pulling a knife from his belt and cutting my armor off of me. "This is going to hurt." He told me just before he snapped what was left of the fletching half of the arrow off.

I remember hearing a shrill animalistic scream and then the world was swallowed up by darkness.

I  was in and out. I remember bits and pieces,  Anders face, serious and determined. Angry voices echoing above me, one sounded a lot like Krem. Calm blue of healing magic and then I dreamed of Skyhold.

Anders wandered into it after I found my way to the battlements. He looked odd. His body seemed to be overlapped by the hulking transparent form of Justice. The spirit pulsed with light its rhythm like a heartbeat, making it odd to look directly at the mage.

"So this is what you dream of?" Anders smiled amused. A man was using a trebuchet to hurl goats at the hold walls. I had not been present for the actual goat hurling, but the hold seemed to remember as did the spirits that clung to the place as they reenacted the scene happily.

"It's not always this…" I waved my hands trying to search for the correct words.

"Far-fetched?" He tried to finish for me.

I turned to him, eyebrow raised, "Oh this happened. I mean I was sick and didn't witness the assault in person." Anders snorted at the word assault. "Some Avvar chieftain was responding to the death of his jackass son by smacking our hold walls with goat's blood, as was his custom… apparently."

Anders gaped at me, "You're joking." I just looked at him the brief silence interrupted by the Smack of a goat hitting the keep's wall. "You are joking right?" He pleaded peering dubiously over the battlements. A goat bleated from below us.

"This is the kind of thing you just can't make up." I finally replied, peering over the edge at the two goats (spirits that were reenacting the incident as the goats). "I mean, who thinks of this sort of thing?" I wondered vaguely what happened to the animals after the chieftain had been judged.

"I can think of someone who might." Anders muttered, more to himself than to me. I coughed out a laugh.

"I've seen my share of absurdities. But this…" He just sighed and pushed away from the battlements. "It seems I owe you an apology."

I snorted, "For what?"

"When we first met," he turned to face me, "I doubted you when you said the Inquisition was as strange as it got." He gestured to the goats with a raised brow and a smile tugging at his lips as a third goat smacked into the wall with an offended sounding bleat. "Clearly I was wrong to doubt you."

I snorted and laughed. We sat on the battlements in companionable silence for a moment, the unpleasant, itching need to be alone was gone.

"You worried us you know?" Anders continued after a moment of silence. "Krem was  livid when he found out you'd slunk off on your own."

"I needed some space." I trailed off weakly. "I suppose that doesn't truly justify it does it?"

"You were shot, you could have died." He countered with a frown.

I hummed, "I may have deserved it" I conceded. "I was being rather mouthy."

Anders choked and turned to me in shock. "You thought you deserved to be shot?"

"You've been shot?" A familiar voice demanded.

Oh son of a bitch. I tensed; Anders straightened warily, moving so he was at my shoulder. I turned to face Solas, the man stood tense, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine." I scoffed, "Andrew is an excellent healer." I gestured to the mage in question and Solas eyes zeroed in on the man.

"This a friend of yours?" Anders inquired, tone guarded, Justice crackled just over his skin, it's form seemed to lean out of Anders for a moment, inspecting the elven mage that stood boldly before them.

I sighed, "Solas, Andrew, Andrew, Solas."

"A pleasure." Anders intoned, sounding wary still. Justice leaned back into Anders, hovering just above his skin.

"Likewise." Solas shot back sounding as if it were anything but a mutual pleasure. "Da'len, a word?" His tone was steel and I sighed pushing off of the battlements to walk further away with the man.

"What's on your mind Solas?" I prompted once we were far enough away. The mage's shoulders seamed to relax as he threw up a barrier (it felt light and there was a faint buzzing sound emitting from it, a sound barrier the keep us from being overheard) to surround them.

"You have been very busy." He muttered, expression disapproving. "Finding trouble in the Frostbacks, picking up strange men in the wilderness and then foolishly sharing dreams with them." He loomed over me. I frowned up at him defiantly. "And now I find you've been shot." His eyes softened slightly and he looked me over as if he could puzzle out where the wound had been. His hands were clasped behind him as if he were resisting the urge to touch. He puffed out a small breath. "What happened?"

I shuffled a little, "I don't know if I want to tell you." I admitted. "It may only make you angry." And then we will inevitably argue. I was tired. Tired of arguing.

He frowned, "Perhaps, but I would still hear it."

So I told him, though I glossed over a few small details like Anders' true name, and how mouthy I had been with the Dalish.

"I have half a mind to petition Leliana to remove you from the scouts." He sighed, rubbing his forehead in agitation once I had finished my tale.

I bristled, "Hey! I'm getting better. I'll only get better with field experience."

"You've nearly died twice. Captured twice-nearly three times." He argued.

"How many times have you been shot in the field Solas?" I shot back, "How many scars do you have from enemy blades?" I poked him in the chest. "This is the nature of things. The nature of people, of soldiers. We fight, we get hurt. We survive."

"You are a scout, not a soldier." He pointed out harshly. I bristled. Technically he was correct. But I was a Marine. Despite not having any previous combat experience it rankled to have him use it against me.

"Why are you being so unreasonable?!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands out. "I have chosen my path, it's dark, and dirty and full of danger. And yes, I may die on it!" He flinched at that "But dying is what people do. Sooner or later my time will end, Solas. I'd rather it end with me trying to do something good, trying to make things right." I huffed out a breath as the elven mage considered me quietly.

"Answer me this Da'len." He said finally, voice cool, his face a mask of indifference. "Tell me what made that man's life worth so much more than your own, that you would throw yourself mindlessly into danger?"

 I didn't get to answer him, he vanished before I could even open my mouth. Anders drew up next to me, Justice crackling over his skin angrily. "Pleasant fellow."

Chapter Text

Day 77

I wake up in unfamiliar places far too often. I’m starting to get used to it (which is discomforting and slightly depressing in and of itself). At least I wasn’t in some dire situation this time. And that was a really nice revelation. Although, the fact that dangerous wake up calls are also a regular enough occurrence (and the surprise when waking up and not being in some life threatening situation) is also unnerving and depressing.

This time I woke in a strange tent, mine had a patch in the canvas right next my bedroll and wasn’t nearly as warm as this one was. (At least that’s what my jumbled mind kept saying until I realized we were in the Emerald graves not the Frostbacks) I peered around a lump of blankets to find Anders sprawled out, his bedroll thrown wide open and limbs splayed everywhere. It was more than a little adorable.

It didn’t take me long to slip out of the tent and wander towards the fire. (Though I discovered quickly that my shoulder was still tender and disliked bearing weight) Krem was on duty, the fire casting his wrinkles and scars into stark relief. He looked up at me as I padded over, eyes assessing. “You probably shouldn’t be up.” He pointed out. I shrugged and then promptly decided that shoulder movements were also a horrible idea. “That would be one of the many reasons why.”

“Ugh. I’ll be fine.” I stated with a scowl, sinking onto a log by the fire, hand gingerly prodding at my shoulder. A new scar and some angry jolts of pain from the still tender flesh beneath, nothing serious.

“Stubborn.” He rolled his eyes at me. “Chief did warn me about you. Sneaking out of healing tents, finding trouble when there shouldn’t be any.”

“Hey, gotta keep those healers on their toes.” I stated, suppressing the urge to shrug again. “How long was I out anyways?”

“Not too long, few hours at most.” Krem answered sighing and running a hand through his hair. “That mage of yours-“

“Not my mage.”

“-Is a damn good Healer. Had you fixed up in no time.” Krem ignored my sour interjection rather cheerfully. “Speaking of.” He gestured behind me; shit eating grin spreading across his face.

I craned my head around on my good side to see a very disheveled Anders stoop out of the tent, a frown on his face and eyes only half open. He caught sight of me and jabbed an index finger at me moodily. “You’re not supposed to be wandering around.”

“He’s most of the other reasons why you should still be in that bedroll of yours.” Krem muttered, far too amused as the mage stalked closer.

“-could aggravate the tissue- reopen the wound-“ He was muttering as he drew closer. “Let me take a look.”

“Good morning to you too Andrew.” I greeted as he leaned over my shoulder, pulling the ruined tunic to one side and casting a spell over the area.

“Yes, yes, good morning.” He muttered back, a bit grouchily. “What were you thinking wandering out on your own.” I got the feeling he wasn’t talking about me wandering about the camp. “You could have-”

“I walked less than five yards and sat down.” I pointed out grumpily, interrupting the man (I had no intention of continuing the dress down he almost gave me in the fade), “How did you expect I would hurt myself?” Anders leveled a flat look at me. I saw his unspoken point. “I’m not that bad.” I insisted.

“She says, having been accosted within a mile of camp.” Anders muttered.

“Yes, Accosted. I didn’t trip and fall on that arrow.” I huffed at him.

 “You’re impossible.” He groused, eyes flickering up to meet mine. “It’s like arguing with-” He cut himself off and sighed.

“The two of you are so sweet it makes my teeth ache.” Krem.

“You talking shit, Krem?” I lurched to the side (causing Anders to make a sharp disapproving noise) to glare around the Mage’s shoulders at the Merc.

“Maker’s breath, sit still.” Anders pushed me back into my original position, scowling. Krem just laughed. I sat still until he drew his magic back and declared me “good enough for now”. He stood over me, aiming a stern glare at me, arms crossed. “Try to get some rest, it won’t do you any good to run around and injure yourself all over again.”

I huffed, but agreed to be good (for now). He sighed forlornly.

“Don’t take it personally,” I heard Krem say as I pushed into the tent, “from what I hear she does this to all the healers.”

I snorted and carefully lowered myself on the bedroll, blocking out the rest of the conversation. I don’t really want to know what else he’s heard about me or what he’s sharing with Anders. I ended up drifting off and was woken by a much more put together Anders as the camp was being torn down and packed up.

I was foisted into the Charger’s wagon under the watchful eye of Stitches (who had been warned of my tendency to attempt elaborate escapes). Anders got the honor of riding Princess Clip Clop.

“Princess…Clip Clop.” He deadpanned. I quirked a brow, he had named a cat Sir Pounce-a-lot, and he was judging my naming skills?

“You asked.” I threw back at him as he swung up into the saddle.

The ride was moderately paced, thankfully we ran into very little trouble, a few trumped up Chevaliers and some small Red Templar encampments. I was wondering if they would ask for my account on what had happened and asked Stitches if I needed to report the incident to anyone.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” He chuckled at me. It made me suspicious.

“I didn’t…say anything…did I?” I was prone to being unbelievably sarcastic and a smart ass when half conscious.

“Oh you said quite a bit.” Stitches confirmed my worst fears cheerfully. I groaned and lay back on the wagon floor. “My favorite moment was when the Captain asked what happened and you looked down at the hole in your shoulder then back at him, ‘I got shot.’” He quoted me in a high falsetto voice.

“You also waxed on poetically about Andrew’s eyes.” Krem interjected from the side of the wagon, cheerfully. I couldn’t tell if he was having me on or not.

“You’re fucking with me.” I looked to the other side of the wagon to where Anders had been keeping pace. His cheeks were rather red and he was studiously looking anywhere but the wagon. “Please tell me you’re just joking?” I pleaded.

“It was adorable.” The wagon driver, Juan, deadpanned in a distinctly Orlesian accent.

“I am so sorry, Andrew.” I groaned, covering my eyes with my good arm.

“It, uh,” Anders began a bit nervously, “It was more of a very brief observation. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Of course not. That’s why you’re blushing like-“ Krem started to wheedle.

“Nothing at all.” Anders interrupted, spurring his horse ahead of the mob of chargers, leaving me alone to their tender (HA!) mercies. Traitor.

They ended up telling me the arrow they yanked out of me had been Dalish make (which obviously I knew), and they had warned further patrols to stay close to camp and not engage unless they were engaged first. The policy, for the time being, was to steer clear of them altogether and send word of them to Skyhold to avoid any future altercations. I was surprised, and considered suggesting we send a contingency of Dalish elves to help them defend their position, but refrained. How would I explain that tactical move?

I’m told we’re going to be entering the exalted planes in the next few days. I would normally be much more excited about this but since I’ll be confined to camp and the wagon for most of it, I’m dreading it. Get ready for more undead and Demons. Dark magic too if I remember correctly. Everyone else is going to have fun, hacking up bad guys, I’ll be stuck here. In this wagon. Until the end of time.

Chapter Text

Day 79

“Pain is weakness leaving the body.” Whoever coined that phrase needs to be shot. Pain isn’t weakness leaving the body, pain is the body telling you to “knock it off, you fucking idiot”. The last few days the pain has been slowly receding, this experience has proven to me once and for all that Healing magic can only go so far.

I started sketching again. I let myself fall out of it. Sketching in the back of a wagon, on a bumpy dirt road is not easy, let me tell you. And writing is even harder. I half wish I brought a book of some sort to read, I’m kicking myself for not toting along one of Varric’s novels or something.

I’m no longer confined to the wagon, or I won’t be tomorrow. Which is a miracle in and of itself. I have been harassing the Captain to let me back out on Patrol.

I did have to participate in an evaluation spar. Just to determine that I could hold my own in the field. I’m not going to lie, blocking hurt like a bitch, but I put on my best poker face because I am so sick of lying around, alone with my thoughts. I could tell Krem was skeptical and Anders was too, but the Captain seemed happy enough.

I was ordered to take a Charger or “That healer of yours” with me because, and I quote, “You find more trouble than a Nug in a Fennec den”.

We are a good ways past the Emerald Graves, our convoy is now almost strictly soldiers and scouts, a few merchants tagging along (One of which was selling rune powered mines…which I bought… because hell yeah). It’s fucking hot and it doesn’t help that most things are on fire out here.

Anders rode alongside the wagon again today (for a little while at least), thankfully keeping me company and from going insane. "The Veil, the Fade." I leaned against the side of the wagon closest to him, arms crossed and resting along the edge. "What do you know about 'em?" I kind of reminded myself of an old timey cop interrogating a suspect.

"Not much, I'm afraid my knowledge lies more in the different spirits and demons that reside within the fade." (of course, he would specialize in spirits.) Anders eyed me skeptically at the extremely odd conversation starter. "I can't promise I'll have all the answers you're looking for, but I'll try. What do you want to know?"

"Where does it come from, the Veil I mean, has it always been there? If it wasn't always there how did it get there? What exactly is it? It's obviously not a physical barrier. How do Tears-"

"Woah! Slow down!" Anders held a hand up, chuckling.

"Sorry." I ducked my chin so my mouth was shielded by my arms.

The mage composed himself, waving off my apology. "Ah lets see. The Chantry teaches that the Maker created the veil before he created Man. It's a metaphysical barrier between the waking world and the Fade. from what I know of it, tears appear in places where there has been a lot of death. Spirits press against the veil, weakening it. That I think answers all of your questions. And also is the extent of my knowledge."

I rested my chin ontop of my folded arms. "So you've never heard any Elven lore on the veil?"

"Wouldn't that be a question for that Elven dreamer friend of yours?" Anders pointed out. I shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, but..." I paused I had been avoiding thinking about our argument for a few days. I mean what did he expect me to say? I didn't value Anders' life over my own. He was in trouble and I helped. What was so wrong about that? Sure I may have dove head first into a situation that could very well have ended horribly. But It turned out okay in the end.

"He did seem rather grumpy." Anders hummed, breaking me out of my thoughts. "But even then you should have heard something from someone when you were growing up." He peered at me, “You grew up in an alienage, right?”

“Nah. I was adopted.” Anders’ eyebrows rose. “By humans.” I added and watched as surprise worked across his face.

“Really?” He adjusted his grip on the reigns. “That’s unusual, but it does explain a lot.”

“Wait, what?” I inquired frowning.

“Just some of your mannerisms.” He paused as if collecting his thoughts. “Like how you make eye contact with people when you’re speaking. Or how you stand with confidence even in front of a person of authority. You even gave that soldier a dressing down the other night.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t really considered those things before he said something. Elves in Thedas, especially city elves tended to be cowed in the presence of humans (for good reason considering they were treated as third class citizens and nobody really blinked when someone mistreated them).  I was just used to acting like I did. Not saying that I’m confident, I mean you know by now that I’m really not. But the military taught me how to stand proud, even when I wasn’t, and to face the world head on, even if I didn’t want to. Fake it till you make it. Old habits die hard. I am now honestly surprised I haven’t been beaten for my sass. I’m sure being best friends with a religious icon has staved off the worst of any backlash for my more outgoing and abrasive behaviors. I should be more careful, my luck won’t last forever.

I guess I was frowning, because Anders continued nervously, “Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s actually kind of refreshing.” He ran a hand over the top of his hair, studiously looking at the trail (Or maybe the house that was on fire) ahead of us.

“Well, I doubt I could curb my behavior even if I wanted to. It’s kind of ingrained.” I shrugged. “How about you, what’s your story? Any Family? Siblings?”

He looked a little surprised at the turnabout, “Well, I lived with my parents in a small village. I was an only child.” His expression darkened, “Templars dragged me to the circle when I was twelve.”

I felt bad about dredging up some painful memories. To be taken from your family at twelve would have been difficult. But to have been torn from all you knew for no better reason than you had magic was... Deplorable “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.” I twisted my fingers together so hard that they hurt.

Anders shook his head, a small depreciating smile on his lips. “No, it’s alright.” He sighed. “It was…a long time ago.”

It dawned on me then that we never found out what happened to Anders’ family. They would have lived in Ferelden during the blight. Maybe they became refugees. Maybe they never made it to Kirkwall. It was a sobering thought and I was kicking myself again for dredging up unpleasant memories for him.

“Do you have any? Siblings I mean.” The question drew me from my rapidly darkening thoughts.

I smiled, “A younger brother. Matt.”

“Was he adopted as well?” he pressed, I suspected the line of questioning was due to curiosity but perhaps also fueled by a bit of boredom.

“No.” I shook my head. “They had him five years after they adopted me.”

“Was your family- Are you of noble birth- well not birth since you were adopted-” Anders stuttered, “Maker….” He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I laughed. “I get what you’re trying to say.” I took a few seconds to calm myself. “No we struggled to get by most years. Why do you ask?”

“Well there’s…”  Anders gestured to all of me, “you and how you act… It denotes nobility. Or at least a station higher than most elves. And then there's the fact that they adopted you even though they were able to have children of their own. I thought perhaps they had some resources.”

“Or they could’ve just been very kind.” I pointed out. “You don’t need to have money to love a kid.”

The conversation kind of tapered off after that point. I was glad about that. I hated trying to explain my fictitious relationship with my biological family to other people. And I didn’t really want to dredge up anymore of his past, very little of it seemed to be positive.

Plus the topic of family makes me nostalgic, and (more than) a little upset. I mean I still haven’t had the opportunity to look into getting home. Though Jess has been scanning the library for anything that might help when she has a spare moment and she mentioned that she’s been bouncing theories off of Dorian (Though the man may become a little too interested in why she wants to know about alternate universes that could potentially lie beyond the fade)

Granted the multiverse theory holds merit, when you take into account that Solas (may have) created pocket dimensions for each Evanuris. I’m still working on specifics, that part of game lore always confused me.

Did he create pocket dimensions and seal them in the fade? Did he imprison them in the black city? Or did he force them into the forms of dragons, put them into a hibernation deep underground where he thought no one would ever look? Or maybe he bound their power to the dragons, and locked their weakened forms in the pocket dimensions/black city? Or perhaps the dragons, or arch-demons (whatever), were actually the forgotten ones. He did seal the old gods/forgotten ones and the Evanuris away because their fighting was destroying The People. Ughhhhh! Working off of barely any info with no actual hard written records was so frustrating.

And the whole imprisoning the Evanuris thing brings about a whole new set of questions. Like what the hell did he plan to do about the Evanuris once the veil was ripped down? Wouldn’t they wake up and be pissed at Solas for imprisoning them for centuries? The whole problem set makes my head hurt. I need a god damn chart.

I may have an easier time theorizing if I could remember exactly how I got here.

I know of three of us so far: Jess, myself and Brandon. Brandon who has seemingly taken Samson’s place beside Corypheus. A fact that greatly disturbs me. I wonder if he went through what Samson did. Stripped of his titles, addicted to Lyrium, dishonored, disgraced, offered a chance to right the wrongs he’s witnessed. Or perhaps he has another motivation. I wonder if Cullen knew him like he knew Samson. I knew the man from my world. Who he was. Who he is now is barely recognizable.

I really can’t wait for Cole to bring me to my memories. It’ll help so much in figuring out everything. I need Data. But data (stuff that’s actually true anyhow) about Arlathan and its fall are hard to come by and the only man who has those facts is plotting to tear down the veil and burn all of Thedas for a distant memory.

I would love to pick the brains of a Dalish Keeper. For as much stuff that they got wrong, the Dalish have gotten a surprising amount of information right. And I mean if we compare their attempts at scavenging their culture to Earth’s archeological pursuits (especially in Middle Eastern cultures like the ancient Egyptians) they’re doing a pretty damn good job. Any info I could dredge up would be a blessing at this point

Chapter Text

Day 80

So… I may have changed something. A couple somethings, actually. I mean I'm not sure if the change is for the better yet. Or even if it will be a major change in the long run. I just….don’t know how to feel about the whole thing. Today was a whirlwind.

It started in the fade. Cole visited me in my dreams last night, almost like thinking of him before I went to sleep summoned him. I was again in the grotto. Though I wasn't surrounded by bodies or images of the past. I was just there, existing. A cool breeze was blowing, birds sang. Peaceful. I was on my back staring up into the sky. It wasn't blue though it was murky green.

The rustle of grass heralded his arrival. "Jagged edges. Unfinished pictures.  Like pages ripped out of a book." He sat down next to me, gripping his knees tightly. “Just a little longer.” He stated sounding troubled.

"No biggie, Cole." I reassured him. He relaxed. But still looked conflicted. “I can wait a while longer.” I tugged on the brim of his hat gently.

“But you need them. Without them you are unfinished. Wandering and wondering. Lost." Cole insisted, shaking his head.

I sat up and pressed my shoulder to his. "Yeah well, I can live without them for now." I stated in a light tone of voice. "Not all who wander are lost, you know. We'll get there when we get there."

My thoughts wandered to Anders. I wasn't the only one who was wandering in search of something. He would be leaving the convoy soon. Probably within the next few days. I would miss him. “They search for purpose, for redemption.” Cole said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” I agreed. It seemed that way. For all that it looked like the man was avoiding civilization, perhaps he was also searching for a way to come to terms with his actions in Kirkwall, make peace with who he had become. He was a a very different man than he had been when he fought beside the Warden Commander. (Though I still see the old Anders peak through sometimes).

It was a day of summoning by thought alone. I twisted around at the sound of gravel crunching underfoot. Anders strode into the grotto looking around curiously. “Ah. Here you are.” Anders greeted, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Blinding. Shining bright in the dreaming and the waking.” Cole murmured from beside me.

“Hey!” I greeted with a small wave and a smile of my own, "What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Curiosity mostly. I'm a little disappointed actually. No goats.” Anders shot back, still smiling, arms crossed across his chest. He turned a glance to Cole curiously. “Another friend?”

I nodded as Justice stretched out from Anders, a tendril of the spirit remained attached to the mage. "This is Cole." I jabbed a thumb in Cole's direction. "He's apparently a spirit of Compassion." Justice pressed close to peer at Cole with four gleaming eyes. One pair atop the other. Blue lines pulsed through it in a rhythmic way. Almost like a heart beat.

"I was Compassion. Now I am Cole." the boy next to me affirmed airily. He was staring intently back at Justice.

"A spirit?" Anders sounded surprised. "But he looks like an ordinary human." I felt a pulse of magic wash over us and Anders frowned.

"This body is my own." Cole assured the mage, now engaged in a staring contest with Justice. 

"So you haven't possessed a dead body. How..." He looked stumped.

"I was a spirit and then I was me." I had to try to control my facial expression. Cole's vague explanations were not really helpful.

"Cole is special. He is unique from what we can tell." I stepped in. "We think he created his own body."

"I've only ever heard of this happening once before. A pride demon so powerful it could take form in the waking world without the need to possess a mortal body." Anders revealed, considering Cole calmly.

"Fascinating that a spirit of compassion would be so powerful and yet so young." Justice intoned, It's voice deep and severe, twisting to study Cole from another angle. I took a moment to study the spirit as it floated about leisurely, It was a darker blue than the last time I’d seen it. I'm not an expert on Spirits and demons, But I remember reading or hearing something about Spirits being warped by mortal conceptions or strong desires. I was taken by surprise when It turned to stare at me with all four gleaming eyes.

“You can see me?” It asked. Anders made a small noise and I realized that he could at least hear Justice. (Which isn't surprising because you know the whole bonded thing)

“I can.” I answered calmly. Anders sucked in a surprised breath.

Cole jerked to look up at Anders “You think you are becoming a monster, less you more it.” Justice’s ‘pulse’ sped up. It was a heartbeat, it was Anders’. “You think she will hate you. Fear you. Like your father after the barn burned down.”

“Anders-“ My gaze flickered to him and I saw emotions warring on his face before he promptly flickered out of existence. “Shit!” I stood hastily.

“He’s running. Frightened. I don't want to die. Not yet.” Cole said in his odd cadence, he twisted his fingers together. "Pain, white hot searing anger buried deep, like a coal in the ashes. He tried to help it, but only made it worse."

"Cole do you know where he's heading? Which direction?" I turned back to my friend, as he rocked back and forth slightly. 

“You will follow.” It wasn’t a question but I answered him anyways.

“Damn right I will.”

"South."

I woke up with a start, shooting upright in my bedroll. I hastily got dressed, strapping on my armor and practically falling through the tent flap as I pulled my boots on. I was in such a rush I nearly forgot my weapons. Anders had already left his tent, all of his things were gone; I hissed out a string of cusses. I needed to sneak after him if I didn't want to bring some unwanted guests along. So I used stealth magic to exit the camp.

I caught up to him almost a full mile away from camp. Damn that man could run. “Anders!”

He turned to me, staff in his hands, stance defensive and expression closed off. “Turn back, Waters.” Okay, Last names? Really?

“Not until you hear me out.” I insisted, my fingers itched for my blades, I clenched them at my sides instead. My nails cut into my skin.

Anders shook his head still distrustful, eyes scanning around us. He thought I brought reinforcements. “You know who I am now, what I’ve done.” He shot back.

“I’ve known from the start.” I retorted. “Please-“ He fired off a spell. He telegraphed his movements, making it easier for me to roll to the side. A thin film of ice formed where I had stood moments before “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I snarled as he twirled his staff, readying another spell. He didn’t seem to be trying to actively hit me. Just keep me on the defensive. I darted behind a rock formation for cover.

“Was this all just a ruse then? The sub-par scout swoops in to save the struggling abomination and gain his trust.” I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. “How long has the inquisition been searching for me?”  

It was one thing to think something about yourself and another to hear it from someone else’s lips. I tried to shake it off; he was trying to hurt my feelings. (In retrospect the entire situation felt a hell of a lot like one of those stereotypical dog movies where the kid screams “Go on get outta here! Don’t you get it?! We don’t want you anymore!”)

“That-“ (was so uncalled for) “Are you even listening to yourself? That doesn’t make any sense!” I shot back, I’m ashamed to admit that my voice wavered a bit, my chest felt tight. “If I was sent to capture you wouldn’t it make more sense if a contingent of Templars were travelling with us?” I used the small magics I had mastered to keep myself from being seen as I glided out from behind the rock, eyes intent on Anders. He looked conflicted; even as he launched another volley of low level spells at my previous hiding place. I took cover a few yards away before opening my mouth again. “If I were here to drag you back, Wouldn’t I have brought backup? Don’t you think they’d have attacked as soon as you fired your first spell?” The volley of spells ceased.

“Then why?” I chanced it and peaked out at him. His shoulders were slumped, his staff still clutched in a white knuckle grip. “Why come after me at all?”

I leaned back against the rock, taking deep breaths to steady myself. “Because-“ I cut myself off. What a loaded question. “I was worried. You left before I could tell you that your past doesn’t matter to me, you are a good person, Anders. Even if you've done some bad shit." I meant it. I may not have condoned what he'd done, but his anger his hatred of the abuse Mages underwent had warped the spirit inside him. The warped spirit of justice had driven him towards extremism. I took a breath. "I’d like to think that we’re friends. Friends put up with each other, you know. Negative qualities, tragic backstories and all.” I’m horrible with the mushy stuff. Bad at admitting my feelings to people. So that was difficult, putting myself out there like that. “Can I come out or are you going to keep lobbing spells in my general direction?” I didn’t get an answer so I slowly inched out of my hiding spot.

Anders stood stock still, his face a mask of misery. Staff gripped loosely in his hands. “I’ve killed innocent people. I started a war, Jules.”

“It was a long time in coming.” I replied, approaching him calmly. “Granted blowing up the chantry was a really shitty way to drive your point across.” He winced. “But this conflict would have happened eventually.”

He shook his head, still looking like someone had kicked his kitten. (Actually I think he’d be rather glowy if that happened…) “How can you be so calm about all of this?” He inquired, sounding worn, nearly hysterical. “Even my closest friends-“ I smacked his shoulder, effectively interrupting him “Ow Hey! What-”

“Stop over analyzing shit.” I’m such a hypocrite. I over analyze everything. “I know about all of it, Christ. If I hated you for any of it, I would’ve left you to the demons.”

“You knew?” He gaped at me. "Even then?"

“I said I knew from the start.” I stated with a slight air of impatience. “You were half way glowy when I charged in. Kinda hard to miss something like that.” I waved my hand at my own face to emphasize the glowing eyes thing that happened whenever his spirit guest stepped in. He sputtered. “Besides, when you visited in the fade the first time I could see it then too.” He continued to stare at me, disbelief etched in every line of his face. “Are we cool?” I inquired, earning myself a look from Anders for my slang.

“Cool?” He hedged.

“Yeah, you know. Good, friends, resolved our issues.”

“I- yes.” He answered after a moment of silence. “We’re…cool.”

“Okay, then.” I stated calmly before promptly punching his shoulder, hard.

He stumbled back up a step or two, “What was that for?!”

“For calling me sub-par, you enormous asshole!”

He decided to walk me back to camp, stating he’d stick around for another day at least. His reasoning was “safety in numbers”, I suspected a lot of it was also guilt for his dramatic episode. We hadn’t gotten very far when the light of the rising sun reflected off of something shiny. I winced and shielded my eyes. That was weird. “Anders…” I snagged his sleeve, tugging it to assure I had gained his attention and gestured towards the reflective thing in the distance. “We should maybe check that out.”

“There is a high concentration of magic in that direction.” He stated solemnly, a frown furrowing his brow. We quietly crept towards the reflective thing. As we drew closer, it became more apparent that it was a spire of glowing rock.  One that I recalled was used by a small contingent of circle mages to summon and bind a spirit. Solas' spirit friend. They had formed it by a river, in between two raised rock formations. Overall a horrible tactical point to defend from.

The circle was completed already, and one of the three mages stood to the side reading aloud from a large, leather bound book. “He’s trying to bind the spirit.” Anders hissed, alarmed. I looked from the small lime green wrinkle in the air above the circle to the teal spirit trapped within it.

“We have to destroy the spires.” I added urgently, I felt at my waist for my pouch, relieved to find my explosive mines still inside.

"Are you daft?" Anders hissed, gripping my wrist and trying to tug me backwards. "There's three of them and two of us."

"And soon there will be three of them and their pet demon." I spat back. "This is wrong, Anders."

His grip loosened and he sighed, Hand still encircling my wrist. "I suppose you have a plan of some sort?"

“I do.” It wasn’t a complicated plan. Break shit and disrupt the caster. Easy. Marines were trained to break shit. We’re good at it. The spires blowing up would free the spirit, and it could hopefully return to the Fade unharmed.

I crept along the spires, placing mines on each one. They would detonate thirty seconds after being activated. I got to the second to last spike when the first mine went off. Shards of the glowing fade touched rock, hit my armor, some glanced across my unprotected cheek.

My cover blown and the caster disrupted, the other two mages began firing at me. Anders cast barrier and began bombarding them with a volley of spells. I tossed an activated mine at the last spire and dove away as the rest of the spires exploded one by one.

I disappeared and circled around one of the circle mages, knocking him out with a swift blow to the head. I was aiming more to incapacitate than kill. They were stupid not malicious. Anders froze the second before the third, a man with thick black hair and a hawkish look to his face surrendered.

“Please-You don’t understand” He started, falling to his knees; Anders looked livid eyes borderline glowing. “The bandits would have killed us. We summoned it for protection.”

“It was a spirit of Wisdom.” Justice’s voice covered Ander’s own, blue light veining across his face like lyrium tattoos. “You would have corrupted it from its purpose. Twisted it until it broke.” My eyes widened and I quickly sheathed my dual blades.

“Abomination.” The mage whispered scuttling backwards. I could practically taste his fear.

"Anders-" I stepped closer, hesitantly.

“We will have Justice.” The spirit intoned solemnly, staff raised. Magic was crackling in the air. Electric. Making my hair stand on end.

"Justice." I placed a hand on his bicep, tugging downward. “Calm down.” I glanced to where the spirit of Wisdom had been to find nothing. I hoped it made it back to the fade. “No harm was done to it.” The ‘I hope’ remained unsaid. Wouldn’t do to aggravate the angry hitchhiking spirit. “It’s returned to the fade, let the idiot live.” Said idiot was watching in horror from a few paces away, his unconscious and wounded buddies on either side of him. "We'll bring them back to camp with us and let the inquisition figure out what to do with them."

I saw it coming before it happened, but there was no way I could have stopped it. The mage scrambled making a run for it, Anders turned, eyes bright, Justice still at the forefront.

“Wait-No Anders- Justice, don’t-“ All three mages burst into flames simultaneously with a wave of Anders’ hand. Screams of agony rent the air as they writhed, flames engulfing them, searing the flesh from their bones.“GOD DAMNIT!” I squeezed my eyes shut as the screams were silenced. I thanked whatever deity that the magical fire killed them more quickly than any regular fire could. The spirit turned back to me, face still grim. “We need to talk. You and me.” I motioned between us, trying to ignore the scent of cooking flesh. My stomach twisted threatening to eject whatever was still inside of it.

“Oh?” Vengeance inquired, intrigued. (because there was now no doubt in my mind as to what kind of spirit I was dealing with now) It moved slowly, much like a predator, to loom over me. The bright blue lines veining across its host’s face pulsed in a steady rhythm.

“You’ve changed.” I pointed out, nervously. I had no idea what I was doing, or what I hoped to accomplish. “You were a spirit of Justice once.” 

“Am I not still what I was?” It hedged. “Have I not sought justice for the wronged? Freedom for the enslaved?”

It stared grimly at me from Anders’ body. “You drove your friend to hurt the people he cared for. And other innocent people.”

“It was necessary.” It insisted.

“You just killed those Mages.” I pointed to the smoldering corpses. "Why?!"

"They were intentionally harming another." The Spirit didn’t spare them a glance. “They needed to be brought to justice.”

“That wasn’t Justice!” I exclaimed.  “Justice would have been dragging them to Skyhold and allowing the Templars to deal with them.” I clenched my fists.

"What would you know of justice." It snarled, advancing until I was nearly nose to chest with the man. 

"I know that there is a fine line between Justice and Vengeance." I replied, my voice was low, wavering. I was afraid. I was very afraid, but I was also so, so angry. This dark spirit of vengeance had influenced a hell of a lot of Anders' decisions since he and the Mage had bonded. I remembered how it had struggled with new feelings of desire and jealousy when it had inhabited Kristoff's rotting body. How much of that corruption was actually Anders fault and how much was the spirits own desires. "You've crossed it."

“I have assured that they will no longer harm another." It snarled down at me, the electric feeling in the air intensified. "I know my purpose, as Anders knows his." I glowered at it. Anders had gone from a man determined to live his life in freedom to a man willing to sacrifice his own life, his own freedom to further a cause. He spoke as if his own life held no value. His own freedom meant nothing. I took a steadying breath. If I pushed too far I would end up a smoldering corpse myself. "Every step towards justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle." 

A quote came to mind and I blurted it out, “When critics sit in judgment it is hard to tell where justice leaves off and vengeance begins.” My fists were trembling at my sides. “Tell me, Vengeance,” The spirit seemed to jolt, surprised at how I addressed it “Was it worth sacrificing the sanity of your only friend in this world? You drove him to extremes, made him believe he had no other choice! You hurt him, and for what? Did the end justify the means?”

We sat in silence, staring each other down for a long moment. Despite its expression remaining stony I got the impression that it was thinking on what I had said. “No.” It finally stated, breaking the silence and our staring contest to gaze around at the destruction. “You are correct. I am not as I once was. There was no justice in this.” The lyrium blue light gave way to white "You have given me much to think on." The light in Anders' eyes dimmed altogether. 

“Jules-What was I-“ Confusion twisted his expression and he took stock of the burnt men at our feet, his eyes were tired. “Oh Maker. Justice-“

I cut him off by hugging him around the waist tightly. “It wasn't you."

"You shouldn't have-It's been so long since-" He held himself stiff for a moment before he wound his arms around my shoulders. Breathing harsh. "I'm sorry."

I didn't know what to say to him. When I grieve I like to be alone, unless I seek someone out. So comforting other people was another awkward grey area for me. He squeezed me tighter and I figured hugging was fine for now. So I simply held my friend as he struggled to compose himself. 

"I regret bonding with Justice." He stated finally, his grip now loose, and cheek resting against the top of my head. "I've twisted him. My repressed rage. My desires. I fear they've corrupted him into a spirit of vengeance."

Now I don't think I really need to mention my negative experiences with the Avvar here. However not all tribes or individuals are sadistic assholes. For instance the tribe at Stone Bear Hold are pretty awesome motherfuckers. I remember the controversial practices they had for training the mages in their tribe. The Avvar mages bonded with a spirit who taught them to control and use their magic before they conducted a ritual to expel the spirit at the end of their training. I kind of hoped they might be able to help Anders. I inhaled sharply, It was a long shot. "I think there may be a way for the two of you to separate."

He pushed me away from him, Holding me at arms length. "It was irreversible, Jules. There's nothing that can be done now."

I shook my head. "Maybe. But it's worth a shot anyways isn't it?" I shot him a crooked grin. "Ever heard of the Avvar?"

Chapter Text

Day 83

I have been so tired lately, Just physically, emotionally... all the exhaustion. Far too tired to write every day. The Western Approach isn’t nearly as hospitable (HAH!) as it seems in game. Sand storms are a frequent occurrence and there are dinosaurs everywhere. (Pheonix are fucking horrifying and they scream and squawk all at once it's disturbing.) We were a small contingent by the time we got to the Forbidden Oasis (almost a week ago now) and each scout ran at least five patrols a day at minimum.

Anders left the day we had our encounter with those mages. He needed to double back to the Frostback basin and it wouldn’t make much sense for him to keep traveling with us when we were travelling in the opposite direction. He did promise to visit in the Fade when possible, claiming that it was a hell of lot more secure than sending a raven. Letters can be intercepted or lost and he didn’t need anyone tracking him down.

The Venatori beat us here. They have a pretty heavy presence, the further in you go the worse it gets. The soldiers and scouts have kind of taken it as a personal challenge to clear them from the area. Luckily they’ve paired a scout to a small squad of soldiers which is both good and bad. Warriors, which obviously all the soldiers are, are clunky and not at all quiet. So scouting covertly is out of the question. The good thing is, scouts are less likely to be offed by the Venatori. (Hurray for an increased rate of survival) I’ve fought more prissily dressed assassins and mages with huge superiority complexes within the last twenty four hours than I care to think about.

So far we’ve cleared out the Agents camped out close to the temple. They’re a lot scarcer than they were a week ago. Couldn’t walk a few yards without tripping over a cultist or two, which is both dangerous and annoying. Most of them throw slurs out in the middle of battle, and while ‘Knife ear’ doesn’t bother me, it gets a bit annoying when they interchange it with ‘Rabbit’. I mean come on. How long have those insults been around anyways? And if all they can do is comment on the shape and size of my ears, how the fuck is that even considered hurtful? I’m more insulted by their lack of originality and creativity in the insult department, honestly. Granted I’m sure there’s a history behind it that makes it insulting to the elves of Thedas, but to an offworlder? (Not that they know that…)

There was a giant in the middle of the Oasis. It skulked in the large coves by the waterfall. The damn thing scared the shit out of one of our patrols the first day. Luckily we only had a few wounded. I say it 'was' in the middle, because a majority of our soldiers ended up dispatching the thing, pushing our encampment into that area. Makes it easier to hold the turf we’ve gained thus far.

We’re planning a push to the temple tomorrow morning, just before the sun rises. Take them by surprise. We have a vague idea of that area, it was pretty heavily defended before, but we’ve whittled their forces down that taking the position is actually possible (instead of a suicide mission). I hate going in blind. Hate it. So last night I decided to scout it out myself in the Fade.

Thankfully their mages were safely entrenched in their own dreams.

There were two main routes to access the temple by, though one was more favorable than the other, and also more heavily fortified.

I turned my attention to the temple itself. The gates gave off an ominous feeling, dread settling into my stomach. I could see why the miners avoided it. The doors were shaped kind of like a keyhole. The name of the place was Solasan if I remembered correctly. Translates roughly to Place of Pride I think. I should get better at this Elvhen thing. It’d be a handy skill with all the tombs and temples we come across.

I pushed on the door, gently running my fingers over the locking mechanisms and nearly jumped when the door tried to eat my hand. Okay so it didn't try to eat it, my hand sunk into the door but it was terrifying. “Christ!” I snatched my hand back to my chest, disturbed. But I’m not going to lie, I was also incredibly curious. I pushed into the door, again my hand passing through like it was made of sludge. I wiggled my fingers on the other side before withdrawing my limb again. “Fucking freaky.”

That temple is fucking weird. I’ve never been able to move through things in the fade before. Something is up there. It’s holding something in the depths and it’s not just resistance to the elements. Worth looking into once Jess opens the doors in the waking world. I’m not willing to venture in alone and especially not in the fade. Who knows if I’d be able to get back out.

Weird Fade experiences aside (I don’t know if there is a “normal” fade experience to be had…), today was otherwise normal, and a bit calm. Almost too calm. We still have a few Chargers with us; apparently Jess hired a few to keep an eye on me. Probably the closest thing to bubble wrap she can get for now. I don’t know if I should feel flattered or insulted. I’ll settle for both, I guess.

Day 84

The assault went well, the soldiers attacked the fortified entrance, and the scouts flanked the Venatori. We made short work of them and found some interesting stuff in their camp.

The door still gives me the heebies. Even standing by the very edge of their camp I could still feel the effects of the wards on the door. That cold feeling of dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. It’s not overbearing thankfully, but still made me jumpy.

They had a few tables set up at the entrance of the temple, notes strewn over it and a few of the magical shards that would be needed to enter the temple. I flicked through the papers, Most of it was observations on the shards, shorthand noted on different attempts to nullify the enchantments and math equations. Nothing to do with Corypheus’ master plan. (But that’s kind of well-known now, Jess saw the future and I know)

Juan, one of my baby sitters, approached the table and began shifting through another pile of notes. “These are strange.” He noted aloud, flicking through a small stack of papers. “I’ve never seen a language like this.” I paused in my attempt to make out the chicken scratch on one of the pages in my hand and set the stack down, careful to replace the paperweight.

“Is it encoded?” I peered over the man’s shoulder and froze. It was in English. What the fuck. I was hoping this meant that the Venatori, and in turn Corypheus, didn’t know how to read the language (though with Brandon as his right hand I feel that could be a distinct possibility). Or perhaps he had more than one displaced earthling in his ranks. Maybe they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught by a slaver.

“Do you recognize it?” He prompted handing the offending papers to me, no doubt noticing my sudden silence.

“Yeah.” I answered, my voice wavering a bit. “I can translate it into common.” We continued to shuffle through papers and I paused on one of the ones written in my native language thoughtfully. "Hey Juan, you ever heard of a... Dern thal?" I know I butchered his name.

"It sounds Elvhen." He muttered, wrinkling his nose at the pages in his hands. "They will have a lore expert back at Skyhold who will know more."

The notes I translated today don’t really give much insight on that. They’re written by ‘S’. Cause, you know, that’s not cryptic at all. They’re general observations on the temple’s external structure and the kinds of enchantments placed on the door. Then it delves into theories about who the temple was for, there’s extensive notes about The Forgotten Ones.

I don’t remember much about them, except they were at war with the Evanuris at one point. The author of these papers however seems to know a great deal more. I’ll have to look into this further once I get back to Skyhold.

Speaking of, I received a missive by Raven. I’m being recalled to Skyhold, by personal request of the Inquisitor. I’ll be making the return trip with the soldiers once their replacements arrive. They’re due in any day now. There’s also murmurings of a march on the western Grey Warden fortress, Adamant.

I dunno how to feel about returning. I like being in the field, it keeps me busy, but I miss my friends... and hot baths.            

A small scrap of paper is wedged between the paper, English scrawled across it in unfamiliar handwriting:

Forgotten Ones: Gods of Terror and malice, spite and pestilence

                Followers settled in Western Orlais?

                                Check into above point

Solasan (temple of pride)

               Possible connection to Daern'thal???

Chapter Text

The Dreadwolf's Interlude

He sat at his desk, a book lying forgotten in his lap, fingers splayed across the pages. He gazed unseeingly at a half finished Fresco. Thoughts miles north of Skyhold. The Inquisitor had informed them that they were due to leave the following day for Crestwood on the heels of the forward scouting party. One that her best friend was assigned to. The little dreamer, his own personal mystery.

It had seemed a relatively easy task at first. Keep an eye on the anchor, influence the outcome. Gather his magic, extend his reach, recruit more agents. His plans were still salvageable. But the Herald had quickly soured to him. Distancing herself from him, disagreeing with him on most things, acting brashly. It was infuriating.

But then they had stumbled across a small waif of an elf. Her face bare, her wounds deep and severe. She had known the Herald, and the Herald knew her. Childhood friends of all things. He had worried that perhaps she was a follower of the Qun, a worry that was quickly discarded. She had been raised by humans.

She presented a unique opportunity. A second chance to maintain leverage over the proclaimed Herald of Andraste. To establish a modicum of control over the situation. He just needed to gain her trust. She seemed shy, uncertain and lost. He had thought it a would be easy to gain her favor by presenting himself as a potential mentor and concerned elder. He had been proven wrong.

Still she had been quick to forgive. And continued to surprise and confuse him. She was a dreamer much like himself. They were rare, even before the fall of Arlathan. It gave him another opening. But she was ever cautious. Withdrawing when he pushed. Running when he chased.

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and gently closing the tome. It was useless anyways. The author knew little; his speculation based on wild half truths. He stood, leaving the tome on his desk as he paced towards his most recent Fresco, mind wandering back to Julie Waters. A human name, unfitting of her. It sounded odd on his lips and he found himself reluctant to use it.

She had proved a magnet for trouble in the short time he’d known her. Taken hostage of all things. Finally she’d been returned to Skyhold; injured again, feverish and having undergone horrific treatment. He’d gladly taken her into his care, the healer’s tent too full with other patients and the Herald too concerned for her welfare. He was sure he would be presented with more opportunities to garner the woman’s trust while she recovered under his watchful gaze. He was once again thwarted in his attempts, by her tendency to wander while on orders to do anything but. The Inquisitor didn’t help matters.

Da’erelan had left Skyhold rather abruptly after having been cleared for duty. Running again. Whether it was from him or from the crowded hold he could not say for sure. But he had always enjoyed a good chase.

He scowled at himself. It was clear he would get no work done while Da’erelan was out of his grasp, so quickly after her physical recovery. Mentally he believed her in no condition to return to scouting. He had said as much to the Inquisitor. The Qunari woman was becoming wary of his continued interest in her friend, becoming defensive of her. He would need to be more careful. He would be in Crestwood soon enough.

Her patrol had gone missing a day before their arrival, thankfully she was easy to find in the fade. Standing in the middle of the old forward camp, an alarming amount of panic and despair leaking from her. “Dalen.” He called out, drawing closer, casting a subtle barrier around them to stave off demons. She didn’t react. “Lady Waters?” He was within arms length he reached out and gently lay a hand on her shoulder, “Julie.”

In less than a few seconds she had tossed him to the ground, she blinked a fog from her eyes. He scowled as he picked himself up and dusted himself off. “Shit.” She hissed.

He sighed, “That was, perhaps, my own fault.” He admitted.

Her brows rose. “No, gee you think?”

Such cheek, he folded his hands behind his back, leveling her with an unimpressed look. “You’ll forgive my oversight, I’m sure.” He stepped forward, “I was relieved to find that you still live. My relief overshadowed reason.” His eyes sweeping over her form, searching for any residual magics. “Where are you?”

Her expression turned urgent, she twisted her hands together. “In a grotto near the mine. There’s a Red Templar encampment-“

“You’ve been captured?” He inhaled closing the distance between them, unable to curb the desire to touch, to reassure himself that she was still whole. He reached out slowly watching for signs of discomfort. When he found none he tugged her forward, fingers probing at her shoulders and arms. “Are you injured?” His hands drifted towards her ribs, a frown furrowing his brow.

She twisted away from him, much to his frustration. “Listen!” she insisted, fists clenched at her sides. Her desire to make her point transported them to a grotto of sorts. Halla statues towering over them on either side. she pointed to a shimmering blockade at th small tunnel entrance “They’ve sealed us in here -“ Solas felt his brow furrow, mouth opening to ask a question but she cut him off quickly, “with a wyvern.” He felt the blood drain out of his face at the implications. Wyverns were volatile creatures, territorial. He scowled, if a hair on her head was so much as singed- “JJ is barely breathing we need help now, Solas.” She urged, “You need to Wake up.”

He jolted upright in bed surprised at the fact that she’d been able to affect him with her will. He hastily pulled his clothing on, before poking his head out of his quarters in the newly acquired keep overlooking the Crestwood Dam. He hailed a scout, sending them off to wake the inquisitor.

The Qunari woman swept into the courtyard not long after Solas, rage and worry warring on her face. For all that they disagreed on it seemed they worried in equal measure when it came to their small elvhen companion. “Where is she?” She demanded, looking as if she would very much like to haul him up to eye level by his shirt.

“To the east, a grotto near the mine.” Solas answered. She nodded, fidgeting. They were soon joined by the Iron Bull, Varric and (curiously enough) Hawke.

They made it to the Red Templar encampment by dawn. Ripping into the enemies there with fierce determination. Solas immolated the final soldier, turning him into an ashy smear on the rock wall. Jess had already made short work of the barrier and the warriors raced in, cornering the already injured wyvern away from where the two scouts were perched atop a small rock formation, tucked behind the right Halla statue. He easily scaled up to them, curbing his desire to check on Da’erelan and tended to the human man she had blocked off behind her. It was over rather quickly, the scout passed onto his fellows to be transported back to the keep. Solas didn’t think much of interrupting the Inquisitor and her friend.

“That remains to be seen.” Solas strode up to the two giggling women, shoulder’s squared. “If I may interrupt, Inquisitor.”

Jess regarded him cautiously, before turning her gaze back to her friend. “Of course.” She conceded. “I’ll talk to you when he’s done with you, Jules.”

She nodded and turned to him, head tilted slightly to the right. Solas folded his hands behind his back. “You never answered my question, Da’len.”

It took a little hedging to get the woman to offer her arm to him. Underneath the makeshift bandages was an angry red burn, blistering at its center. He scowled, down at it, cursing the mages they’d already slain. He let his magic wash over the injury. “You are fortunate it hasn’t become infected.” His movements, while gentle, held an edge of anger in them.

“Not much I could really do about it.” She snapped back, defensively. Solas paused in his ministrations, guilt flooding him. He apologized, which in turn prompted her to apologize. He was always impressed by her ability to admit when she was wrong, even if it was a small offense.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired, and aggravated. I’ve been rescued no less than four times in the past month and a half.” His eyebrows rose. “That’s no reason to lash out.”

“Four times?” Solas inquired. “I know of two instances, this one included, what are the others?”

She colored, shrinking down. Solas had no doubt she would have withdrawn completely if he didn’t still have a hold of her hand. “Well there was the Blackwall incident.” She pointed out. He suppressed the urge to laugh, slowing his bandaging in order to keep her longer instead.

“I hardly think that counts as a rescue.” Solas denied outwardly, inwardly he was pleased she associated the incident as a rescue. He stilled his hands waiting for her to continue watching her emotions work across her face. “And the fourth?” He prompted.

“’M not talking about that one.” She answered quickly, and Solas relented, tying off the bandages. Her blush darkened, Solas felt a smirk curl the corner of his lips.

“No?” Solas released her arm and stood. Julie squinted at him as she, too, stood; though slowly.

“Nope.” She edged her way around him. “You can deal with not knowing that embarrassing tid bit about me.”

He felt his interest peak and let loose a put upon sigh, “Is there no way I could persuade you to ease my curiosity?”

She scrunched up her nose, “Probably not.”

He suppressed a smirk, she had said Probably. She may be persuaded yet. “But there is a slim possibility.” He retorted, causing the shorter woman to roll her eyes good naturedly.

“My answer is still no, Solas.” She glared at him, the effect ruined by the small smile on her lips as she finally skirted around him and towards the grotto entrance. His quiet laughter shook his shoulders. 

When he sought her out again she was not alone. He had been present when the Inquisitor, having assigned some of The Iron Bull’s men to watch the trouble prone scout, received a raven on her friend’s recent misadventures. Fighting a pack of demons in the Frostbacks, without backup, to rescue an apostate. While he found her compassion for the wellbeing of others admirable, her inclination to find trouble, was becoming worrisome. The two traits seemed to intermingle more often than not.

The curl of worry Solas had felt when she had been assigned to the Western Approach had grown into something almost uncomfortable and paired itself with annoyance. He had been watching from afar, easily finding her in the Fade, but had not entered her dreams. Content to observe.

Taking a deep calming breath he stepped into the dream, blinking in surprise at the sight of Skyhold. A human male stood close to her. “You believe you deserved to be shot?” He was inquiring, expression troubled.

Solas inhaled sharply, “You’ve been shot?” She turned to him a sheepish expression on her face. He clenched his fingers around his wrist behind his back, resisting the urge to search her frame physically for signs of injury. He settled instead for a visual confirmation. He spotted residual healing magic radiating from her shoulder, too close to her heart.

"I'm fine." She insisted, "Andrew is an excellent healer." He turned an assessing gaze to her companion.

“This a friend of yours?” The mage, Andrew, inquired eying him with equal amounts of caution and skepticism. There was something else about the man, something hidden and dangerous.

“Solas, Andrew. Andrew, Solas.” She introduced, looking as if she would love to melt into the flagstones.

 "A pleasure." Andrew intoned, dryly.

"Likewise." Solas shot back scathingly. "Da'len, a word?" His tone stern, brooking no room for argument. She sighed, pushing off of the battlements and following him away from the human man. Once they were far enough away, Solas waved a hand, ensconcing them in a soundproof barrier.

"What's on your mind Solas?" she prompted, shuddering slightly as the magic encased them. He frowned at the small reaction, interesting and worth investigating at a later time.

"You have been very busy." He muttered, instead of commenting on her inate ability to sense the subtle magic. "Finding trouble in the Frostbacks, picking up strange men in the wilderness and then foolishly sharing dreams with them." He took a few steps closer, arms still folded behind his back. How much did she truly know the man, he could have taken advantage of her in the mountains assailed her mind within a dream. "And now I find you've been shot." He allowed his eye to rake over her one more time, they lingered on her shoulder. His hands were clasped behind him still and he tightened his grip on his wrist when the urge to touch surged forward again. He puffed out a small breath. "What happened?"

She shuffled, looking off to the side, "I don't know if I want to tell you." She admitted sullenly. "It may only make you angry." Her response threw him. She was worried about angering him?

He frowned, "Perhaps, but I would still hear it."

She revealed she had been shot by a Dalish archer; she glossed over some things, no doubt omitting facts here and there. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache. "I have half a mind to petition Leliana to remove you from the scouts." He sighed. He could practically feel her indignation rolling off of her.

"Hey! I'm getting better. I'll only get better with field experience."

"You've nearly died twice. Captured twice-nearly three times." He argued, trying and failing to maintain his own calm.

"How many times have you been shot in the field Solas?" she shot back, "How many scars do you have from enemy blades?" She poked him in the chest. Solas resisted the urge to capture the offending digit and- do what? He wondered absently as she scowled up at him. She had risen onto her tip toes to better get into his face. "This is the nature of things. The nature of people, of soldiers. We fight, we get hurt. We survive."

"You are a scout, not a soldier." He pointed out harshly. The woman bristled.

"Why are you being so unreasonable?!" she, threw her hands out. "I have chosen my path, it's dark, and dirty and full of danger. And yes, I may die on it!" He flinched at that, the idea of her dying disturbed him greatly. She held a passion and an internal fire that drew him like a moth. "But dying is what people do. Sooner or later my time will end, Solas. I'd rather it end with me trying to do something good, trying to make things right."

Solas watched her, slightly winded from her tirade, cheeks flushed, and wayward curls escaping her braid, haloing her head in the waning sunlight. Something warm stirred in his chest as he studied the creature before him. This compassionate, fiery, brash creature whose light he couldn’t imagine being snuffed out.

"Answer me this Da'len." He said finally, voice cool, his face a mask of indifference despite the warring emotions in his breast. "Tell me what made that man's life worth so much more than your own, that you would throw yourself mindlessly into danger?"

He left her with that, retreating quickly to the safety of his own dreams.

It had been days since their argument. He had expected her to seek him out the next night or perhaps the night after. But she hadn’t. He stood from his desk to pace the rotunda thoughtfully. It occurred to him after the fact that she may not know how to search for someone in the fade. She was new to her own gifts, and had yet to be trained. Something he intended to rectify, despite her reluctance on the matter.

He sighed in aggravation, turning and taking slow measured steps in an attempt to calm himself. He needed a friend’s advice. That night he sought Wisdom’s council.

It was located in it’s usual spot in the fade, “Andaran atish’an, Lethallin.” Wisdom greeted, airily.

“Ghil-Dirthalen,” Solas stopped short of his friend, noting the weakness of the veil, the slight tear in the air and the crumbled ruins of spires reflected from he waking world. It was evidence that an ancient binding ritual had been attempted in this very spot. He turned a questioning glance to his friend. “What happened here?”

Wisdom simply gestured him forward, the fade shaping around them. Dirty circle Mages stood outside the circle, one chanting an ancient Tevene incantation over an ancient leather bound tome. The other two standing lookout.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and jolted at the sight of Julie and the human mage crouched behind a rock. He paced closer, brows furrowed. They both looked ruffled, though Julie looked a little singed. He frowned.

“You know these mortals?” Wisdom inquired mildly from over his shoulder.

Solas shook his head, “Just one.”

“The girl?” Wisdom curled happily around his shoulders tendrils of light reaching for the fade representation of Julie. “She is of noble character.”

Solas grunted in agreement as the scene played out before them.

“He’s trying to bind the spirit.” The Mage hissed, his eyes wide.

“We have to destroy the spires.” Julie inserted urgently, feeling at a pouch on her belt thoughtfully.

"Are you daft?" her companion hissed, reaching out to snag her wrist and tug her backwards. "There's three of them and two of us."

"And soon there will be three of them and their pet demon." she spat back, her expression was dark, and her tone urgent. "This is wrong, Anders." Solas frowned, He recalled the man’s name had been Andrew, when she’d introduced them, perhaps shed given him a nickname. He lowered his gaze to where the man still held her wrist.

His grip was loose now, and he sighed. "I suppose you have a plan of some sort?"

“I do.” She outlined her plan to him, it was a very simple one, but would be effective. He felt pride when she disappeared, and the spires began exploding. The ensuing battle was short, the duo incapacitated two of the mages before the third surrendered. He simpered and groveled.

Anders eyes began glowing and Solas allowed himself to draw close to the fade’s replica of the man. “It was a spirit of Wisdom.” His voice was overlaid with another deeper tone, blue light veining across his face. A spirit. The man willingly hosted a spirit. “You would have corrupted it from its purpose. Twisted it until it broke.” Julie sheathed her blades tentatively moving closer to her companion. She was unsurprised by the man’s sudden luminescence. Curious.

“Abomination.” The ring leader whispered, scooting backwards, horror etched across his face.

"Anders-" Julie stepped even closer, hands raised in an attempt to placate the wrathful spirit that resided within her friend. Solas inhaled sharply, eyes darting between the enraged mage and his Da’erelan.

“He will not harm her.” Wisdom placated Solas.

“We will have Justice.” The spirit intoned solemnly, Anders raised his staff.

"Justice." She placed a hand on his bicep, tugging downward. “Calm down.” Solas, tensed, looking over towards Wisdom who continued to maintain its calm, exuding waves of reassurance. “No harm was done to it. It’s returned to the fade, let the idiot live.” She insisted. Solas snorted, affection rising in his chest for the woman. She would reason with a spirit, try and keep it from corruption instead of fight it, condemn it for its very nature. "We'll bring them back to camp with us and let the inquisition figure out what to do with them." She concluded, gently drawing the mages attention.

Her method worked marginally on Anders and his spirit passenger, but not on the apostate. The mage scrambled making a run for it, Anders turned, his eyes shining like a beacon.

“Wait-No Anders- Justice, don’t-“ Julie protested, seeing what would happen as Solas did. All three mages burst into flames simultaneously with a wave of Anders’ hand. Screams of agony rent the air as they writhed, flames engulfing them, searing the flesh from their bones. She cussed loudly, looking ill, eyes squeezed tight and Solas found himself reaching out for her, fingers passing through her shoulder. “We need to talk. You and me.” She straightened, motioning between herself and Anders.

The spirit moved to loom over her and they proceeded to argue. Solas folded his hands behind his back and paced around them, eyes assessing. He stance was wide and defiant, yet fear rolled off of her still. “You were a spirit of Justice once.” She pointed out, voice wavering slightly. He felt his respect for the woman ramp up another notch.

“Am I not still what I was?” It hedged. “Have I not sought justice for the wronged? Freedom for the enslaved?”

Solas watched her intently, she clenched her fists. She tended to rise onto her toes, probably without realizing it, when she started getting worked up. “You drove your friend to hurt the people he cared for. And other innocent people.”

“It was necessary.” It insisted. Julie continued trying to vehemently drive her point across to the spirit. Solas watched how expressive her face was, observed the little mannerisms he didn’t notice when she was angry with him. He then turned to frown at the spirit, It had become tainted from sharing a body with the mage or perhaps residing in the waking for far too long.

“That wasn’t Justice!” she insisted suddenly and loudly, rocking back onto her heels.  “Justice would have been dragging them to Skyhold and allowing the Templars to deal with them.”

"What would you know of justice." It snarled, advancing on her, so close her nose nearly touched his chest. He noticed not for the first time how small she was. Her manner and way of approaching matters made her seem larger than she was.

"I know that there is a fine line between Justice and Vengeance." she replied, her voice emotional, she was afraid, shaking, and yet... "You've crossed it."

“I have assured that they will no longer harm another." It snarled. "I know my purpose, as Anders knows his. Every step towards justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle." Solas sighed, feeling sorrow that a spirit had been corrupted so.

“When critics sit in judgment it is hard to tell where justice leaves off and vengeance begins.” She blurted out and Solas’ gaze drifted back to her tiny form. She had subconsciously backed up a step. “Tell me, Vengeance,” Solas sucked in a breath, surprised. “Was it worth sacrificing the sanity of your only friend in this world? You drove him to extremes, made him believe he had no other choice! You hurt him, and for what? Did the end justify the means?”

They stared at each other in silence. Finally the spirit released a short soft breath, and Solas felt his muscles uncoil. “No.” It finally stated, breaking the silence and their staring contest to gaze around at the destruction. “You are correct. I am not as I once was. There was no justice in this.” The blue light gave way to white "You have given me much to think on." The light in Anders' eyes dimmed altogether. As did the scene from the fade.

Chapter Text

A crumpled, unsent letter written in the Inquisitor’s hand:

Josephine Lady Montilyet,

I wouldn’t recommend the Western Approach as a pleasant vacation location. I’ve seen enough sand to last a lifetime, and I’m sure I’ll still be finding it well after I’ve returned to Skyhold. I miss you terribly, though I doubt you realize this. I have been flirting, terribly I’ll admit, and it just goes right over your pretty little head.

I’m afraid this letter isn’t purely for personal reasons. I have some good news and some bad news.

Good news, Adamant has fallen and the Wardens have allied with us at my prompting. I know what they’ve done was reprehensible, I know that I should have banished them, but we need all the help we can get against Corypheus. And there are reports of increased Darkspawn activity along the Storm Coast, Leliana and Cullen don’t have a problem pitting our soldiers against those fucking things, but I do. I think that the Wardens can be used in such situations so we don’t expose our people to the blight unnecessarily. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it once I return.

Onto the bad news, Stroud is dead. There’s no delicate way of putting this. I tried to think up different ways to say it and I keep sounding like an ass every which way it comes out.

There’s a story here. I’m sure Leliana’s already sent you reports. But I need to write about it, I guess it’s supposed to help. Jules is always jotting something down in that creepy looking journal of hers; she swears it helps her organize her thoughts.

While at Adamant we fell into a giant fade rift. Right into the domain of a Nightmare demon. Everyone was freaked out, well almost everyone. Egghead Solas was over the damn moon about being physically inside the fade. Unsurprising considering how unusually into it he is. I don’t know how Jules puts up with him, he’s such a jackass.

Apparently the Nightmare demon had been holding my memories hostage. You probably already know this (Leliana again) but I’m not from Thedas. I’m from another world, got sucked here through a rift that opened up on our side of the fade.

I remember everything now. Our world was worse off than yours is now. Rifts popping open everywhere. It looked more like the future Dorian and I got sucked into. I’ve lost a lot of family. A lot of friends. Almost everything was gone when I tumbled into the fade and right into the Inquisitions lap.

Well that’s not exactly how it happened. I was dying. I had been in a refugee camp, A rift opened up right next to it, more demons than I’d ever seen coming through it. They overwhelmed us. I was pulled through by a spirit (one of fortune I think) who gave me a body on this side. Why the hell she (he? It?) made it Qunari I’ll never damn well know. And then staggered into the room with the Divine and Corypheus, interrupted his plan to tear down the veil and got this mark (which is of elven origin, by the by, not divine Andraste magic).

You probably already pieced this together too, but Jules isn’t from Thedas either. In fact I know you know because Cullen knows and he’s pissed right now. See, she knows all about this world. She knows what’s going to happen (to some extent at least). Leliana's probably plotting, But Cullen is furious. Hasn’t said a word to me outside of business talk the whole trip. I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t try to throttle my best friend when we get back.

Anyways. Back to Stroud. We had to fight this massive nightmare and it was between us and the rift in the middle of Adamant. Our ticket out. Hawke and Stroud had been at each other’s throats the whole time. And suddenly they were arguing on which one would stay behind and distract the big mutant spider while we closed the rift. It fell on me to make the final call. I just couldn’t tell Hawke to stay behind. I couldn’t. Tactically it makes more sense. The wardens need a leader. But… Varric. It was hard to do. I feel awful.

I know you’ll probably be mad at me when we get back. I know it’ll be tough to deal with all the repercussions of our lies. I already feel like I’m isolated even surrounded by all these people. Everyone is kind of cross with me right now. Whether it’s for lying about who I was and where I came from or the decision to recruit the Wardens, I don’t know.

Cole is the only person who’s willing to be alone with me right now. I think he always knew in that creepy way of his.

Fondly,

Jessica Lemire

An unsent letter addressed to Scout Waters:

Jules,

THEY KNOW.

We fell into the fade, Like you said we would. I know you didn't really want to tell me when or how, and now I know why. That blighted arch demon of his is terrifying up close, even though this was the second time I've been close enough to smell his heinous breath (Seriously don't they have someone who can go and pick the darkspawn out from between that things teeth?), It was just as terrifying as the first time. Of course that could have also been the additional experience of nearly falling to my death. 

I'm glad you have so much faith in my ability to live through this shit.

Anyways some Nightmare demon was holding my memories hostage and when I picked them up everyone got a complimentary viewing of my drama. And subsequently found out I'm not from this world. Everything is gone, Jules. You should see what it was like. Our home town overrun by demons. It looked like some post apocalyptic walking dead bullshit. And the people. So many have died. My sister, my niece. Caitlin's asshole of a boyfriend  

Caitlin's boyfriend, you remember the misogynist controlling emotionally abusing dick head? Yeah. Well he took their son and ran. left Caitlin and Emma for dead.

Our friends, oh god, Sam. Sammy-

Cole is the only one who is willing to sit next to me right now. Varric seems curious and less disgruntled than everyone else, but still distant. But I'm pretty sure Cassandra and Vivienne think I'm some sort of demon. Sera is avoiding me like the plague, Dorian is unsurprised but still quieter than he usually is, and Bull... well we were never too close.

Maybe It's me. I project sometimes. I feel like I've betrayed their trust by pretending to be someone I'm not.

And Cullen...Lets not start on that...well no you should know he's pretty pissed. I think he may try to kill you. He knows that you know, and he may kinda sorta blame you for the lives that have been lost. It makes like zero sense, but I don't think he sees it how we see it. 

He thinks that if  we had known about Haven, we could have evacuated before the attack. I may have blown up at him. I forget how tall I am now, The only person who can look me straight in the eye is Bull. I Asked him if he knew for sure if we would have made it to Skyhold without massive casualties. That instead of being able to defend the noncombatants they would be open to attack as much as the soldiers. 

I'm sorry. I know you think you're doing the right thing,

I know we thought we were doing what was right, but I think its time to tell them everything we know. 

I miss you

The last sentence is violently scribbled out and the bottom portion of the parchment is torn off.

Chapter Text

Day 95

A majority of Skyhold’s troops were deployed to Adamant and still haven’t returned from the Western Approach. Though I hear Jess is a few days out something about taking a detour to Redcliffe.

So Skyhold seems blissfully empty. Also incredibly lonesome. I mean None of the people I usually chill with are here. Well there’s Juan… But I think we need to start seeing other people. We really started grating on each other’s last nerve on the trip back and I’d like to continue breathing thanks.

I’ve been back in Skyhold for a few days now, and I’ve been having (what I think) are atrocious nightmares. I can’t remember much of them; Just the feeling of being alone with something dangerous, the wild terror of being pinned down and… searching. There were feelings of betrayal, faint but there, and then the feeling that someone wanted something, waiting, hunting. I’d wake up and grasp at the slipping remnants of the dream, trying to hold onto it. That was my first hint that they weren’t normal dreams. I always remember my dreams. And my nightmares usually involve some sort of spliced animal monstrosity riding a unicycle. (The last one was a cat/rabbit/koala fusion called a Cabawalla. Freakiest thing I’d ever thought up.)

Someone was messing with my mind, someone was giving me nightmares. Someone was searching for something. In retrospect I suppose it made sense since Jess and I had been unveiled as offworlders. But this didn’t dawn on my exhausted mind until I stepped into Skyhold and was swept into an interrogation session with the Spy mistress herself.

She summoned me as soon as I stepped foot in the hold. What followed was an Interrogation of truly uncomfortable proportions. Where was I from? What did I know of Thedas? How far could I see into the future? What were my plans? So many questions my brain is still kinda numb from it all. Before I left she stopped me. Told me she understood why I didn’t say anything. She said they would have thought us mad, or enemy spies. The circumstances could have turned out much worse in Haven if they’d avoided the attack all together. She still looks pissed, but that may be me projecting. She could just be calculating all the info she got out of me.

I had a pretty good idea of who was doing the digging after that. I found a book on the Fade in Solas’ rotunda, several in fact (not surprising, he was a fade mage). But one of them had a section that outlined basic exercises that a Dreamer conducted within the fade in order to shield his mind. Among them was a technique to erect a barrier, to create a safe place within the fade that only you or those you invited in could access. Fucking perfect. If I could go to sleep mid-day I could get a little work in before Solas could enter the fade and continue doing whatever the hell he was doing. Really the asshole could have just asked (not that I guaranteed straight answers if he did, but I wouldn’t lie). But no.

He pushed. Now I was going to push back.

I hesitated by the stairs leading to the library; giving the room a considering glance. I set the tome on a small table by the door leading to the battlements, cracked my knuckles and went to work. I’ll admit that I did some petty rearranging of the man’s workspace. May have relocated his writing implements and ink onto the tallest scaffolding in the room, Maybe every piece of furniture in the room moved an inch to the left. Perhaps the contents of the side drawers of his desk mysteriously managed to swap places. Like I said, petty. It would probably simply be an annoyance to the man, but ultimately satisfying for me. Stay outta my head wolf boy. I can be a persistent pain in the ass when it’s warranted.

I settled into Dorian’s space, which had remained untouched (probably because the librarians were afraid to remove the tiers of books he had stacked around his ridiculously cozy chair). It was quiet and ultimately avoided. He really did get a bad rep just for being from Tevinter. I read through the book, doubling back in order to gain context on some things and jotting down notes to simplify the process in the margins (if the Librarians disliked Dorian for flinging books around, they’d hate me for doodling in them). It literally called for the Dreamer to imagine a barrier into existence. It would create a small defensive bubble about them in the Fade. I brainstormed a layered version, something a bit sturdier than one flimsy bubble. Solas could probably tear through one of those with very little effort. He’s been at this game for centuries at the least. Despite my attempts I was sure he would tear through my barriers anyhow. Still it might give me some well needed rest.

Eventually my exhaustion won over and I drifted off to sleep sometime around midafternoon. I was relieved to find myself in the fade, standing in the Library. It wasn’t where I wanted to make my space though. This was Solas’ territory. I wanted my own space, somewhere else. Somewhere out of the way. I closed my eyes and thought about the Grotto, thought about it hard, imagined it surrounded by a thick barrier with a larger barrier around that one. When I opened my eyes I was standing in the center of the Grotto. A shimmering barrier that looked like it was made of frosted glass encasing the place. I was careful to go over every inch of it, fixing any holes or weaknesses I found, extending it underneath and above my new sanctuary.

After I was certain it was strong, I stepped out of it. A secondary barrier surrounded the first; I decided this one needed to be just as strong, but not as elaborate and thorough, not now. This layer was meant to deter intruders. I filled it with half-forgotten dreams, distorted images of nightmares past. Things that were meant to overwhelm and distract, confuse and misdirect.

Some hours later (well after I had finished reinforcing my space and had settled back into the inner barrier) I felt something disturb the outer barrier. It felt curious, and frustrated all at once. I spent the rest of the night on edge in my bubble, though nothing touched the inner barrier, I was still wary.

I woke up with the sun in my eyes, neck aching from falling asleep sitting up, the book had slipped off of my lap in the night. But despite my physical aches, I felt refreshed. I have to say that I’m kinda proud of myself for figuring that barrier thing out. It’ll help a little in the whole ‘keeping my noggin safe from Solas’ prying’ thing and probably help deter demons in the future.

I’m not getting my hopes up that it’ll completely keep the Dreadwolf out, but it’s earned me a reprieve for now.

Bonus content (Solas’ POV):

She wasn’t who he had thought she was, not what he had thought she was. What was she? A spirit given physical form like the Inquisitor? She came from another world, another dimension separate from this one, from beyond the fade. The Inquisitor had revealed that her friend had some foresight on future events. It was subjective and limited, at best. How much did she know?

Did she know of the Orb’s origin? Of his origins? Did she know of his role in the world’s current state? What did she know of his plans? Questions circled Solas’ mind, endless possibilities piling up. Doubt, fear and dread pooling into his stomach. Curiously enough, the feeling of betrayal whispered achingly in his chest. He had little reason to feel betrayed; after all he was also hiding his true identity.

He needed answers, yet hesitated in his inquiries. Asking after the information would tip his hand. If she didn’t know before, she would certainly piece it together after he interrogated her, he couldn’t afford to reveal his plans so soon. Instead, he visited her; night after night, encasing her in a construct of fear and darkness, wearing at her mind’s natural defenses, waiting for them to slip, digging for information. He would find the truth beneath her masks. She found little rest, if any, the first four nights; and he found no answers, tiny fragments, blurry images that did him little good.

On the fifth night he encountered the repercussions of his hastily executed plan. He easily stepped to Skyhold and into her quarters to await her arrival in the fade. He was surprised when he found that not only was she already within the fade, but she was not within Skyhold. He cursed, tracking her spirit to Crestwood, the Grotto she’d been trapped in not a month before was surrounded by a barrier. Her Spirit encased within. He would get no answers now. He had worn her to the point of exhaustion. Had aroused her suspicions and backed her into a corner.

He felt curiosity war with frustration and begrudging astonishment. She had no doubt discovered the tomes he’d collected for her benefit in the rotunda, impressively grasping the concept in very little time. He’d known her to be intelligent, but she was proving far more clever than he’d anticipated.

He ran a hand over the barrier; it shuddered under his touch but remained firm. He pushed gently against it with his magic, searching, and cursed at what he found. The barrier was connected to her spirit, tearing it down would ultimately damage her. As much as he desired his answers he would gain nothing if he harmed her in the pursuit of them. He could, in theory, carefully enter the structure, doing little more than straining the tenuous connection between barrier and spirit. He continued to mull over his options, pacing the outside of the barrier looking for weak points.

As his inspection of the structure drew on, Da’erelan’s spirit grew restless and wary. A bristling fox inside its den ready to lash out. If he were to enter, it would not be tonight, not while she was expecting him with such animosity. Though Solas found he couldn’t blame the woman, if she had indeed deduced he was behind her sleepless nights he supposed he shouldn’t expect her to be welcoming of his presence. On the other hand if she had found him out, it could mean she did know more than she let on, about both the fade and him.

She awoke shortly after he had completed his inspection of her work, her barrier remaining in place. If he wanted to avoid harming her he would need to lure her from her hiding spot, something that would prove a challenge. One he whole heartedly accepted.

Chapter Text

Day 96

I regained my memories last night. So many words I’d like to write, I want to scream and cry. But I need to hold it together. Have to

The ink is smudged, the page is slightly warped from moisture.

I can work through this. I have this. I can start at the beginning.

Cole was standing outside my fade space when I fell asleep last night, a medallion pinned to his chest, looking a lot more… something than he had the last time I’d seen him. Whether that was human or spirit I didn’t quite know not by looking anyways. “Cole!” I greeted happily, “I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?” I invited him into the barrier, the wards shivered as he entered (It was weird because It felt like I shivered but it was definitely the barriers...magic is weird...).

“I am better.” Cole stated, nodding his head. “Safe from being bound. I am more than I was.” He explained eagerly. He sounded more human than spirit (more emotional inflection than before). “They can see me now, and not everyone forgets.” Human then. I was relieved. As a spirit he made himself forget things, it was heart wrenching to witness him practically delete a part of himself. I was somewhat glad I wouldn’t need to see it in real life.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked, plucking his hat from his head and placing it atop my own with a smile.

“I thought it would be.” He admitted, “But it’s not.” I hummed happily and plopped down on the ground, He sat gracefully beside me, taking his hat back. “Sometimes it’s hard to listen.” He confided in me after a quiet minute.

“But you can still help people.” I pointed out, bumping shoulders with him. He nodded.

“I can.” He agreed, “And that’s what matters.”

“Are you happy?” I hedged twisting a piece of grass between my fingers.

“I am.” He said after a while. “It’s hard, but Varric is helping.”

“He’s good people.” I commented.

“You’re worried to ask, afraid to intrude, afraid of the answer.” Cole announced, “You want to know if I can still help you.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up. “I can wait… if it’s too much trouble.”

“It’s not dangerous. Not anymore.” He shook his head. “I can help now.” He held out a hand, and I took it. We both leaned backwards and stood up, supporting each other’s weight. He smiled and led me out of the grotto. It didn’t take long for him to bring me to an unkempt portion of the fade (not that the rest was really neat in any way, this area was just different from what I was used to seeing). The typical sharp spires that could be found in the fade towered over us like stone trees. Lyrium deposits bursting from the ground at their base like foliage. It was beautiful in a twisted abstract sort of way.

He led me further into the fade forest thing. And stopped short of a clearing. A glowing ball hovered inches from the ground in the center.  “There will be pain.” Cole told me as my fingers slipped from his. “But with it comes answers. Resolution. No more frayed edges, no more missing pieces.”

“Cole?” I stepped towards it, compelled; it sang a familiar song. “You said it was dangerous-“ I was reaching out for it, unbidden. The soft song calling to me, hypnotic and lulling.

“Rosy cheeks, a halo of light, so beautiful. So close, yet so far that it aches. He was afraid to ask, afraid of betrayal, rejection.” Cole rambled hurriedly, hands twisting in his tunic nervously. “He wants to trust, wants to help.”

“Wait, who wants to help? Why is it safe now? Cole-“ I paused, my arm trembling with the effort to keep it from drifting towards the ball of light, the fragments of me. I wanted so badly to be whole, it wanted so badly to be complete, but there was something off- Something important first. I tore my eyes from the orb; they met a pair of familiar stormy grey eyes across the clearing. “Solas.” I whispered, shocked, my heart in my throat. There was a warmth in my palms as my hands closed around the orb, and then the world shifted. “Shit.”

September 25^th 2016, North Carolina, USA

The world was being torn apart by a fictional dimension. Tears in reality had slowly been opening across the globe. The first that had been recorded had been in South Sudan. The tears, rifts, were almost a mixture of neon and pea green. Fluctuating and distorting particles nearest to them. Scientists had ventured close to them, taking readings and the military was cordoning them off as they popped up across the country. They were spreading, ripping open with increased size and frequency. Some major cities had been evacuated entirely. Cars had been abandoned on the highways. The Southernmost portion of Canada and the northern half of America were currently bearing the brunt of the mayhem in the western hemisphere.

Larger demons were being sighted further up north, just yesterday a pride demon had been shown on a UAV feed breaking its way through a barricade, and crushing a few tanks before finally being brought down by a Hellfire missile. That had been in Boston.

Julie stood in her rental home’s driveway, dressed in her boots and utes, backpack slung over her shoulder. She had lived with four other sergeants to afford the rent without BAH. There had been murmurings of evacuation, out to the Midwest with plans of only leaving a skeleton crew and some special ops personnel behind. Shortly after the rumors started circulating through the lower ranks, they had been instructed to relocate to base for safety reasons. She had left a lot of stuff behind, stuff they wouldn’t allow in the barracks for safety reasons, but that was only partially why she was here.

Determination warred with guilt and anxiety. She hadn’t heard from her friends or family in a week. Desertion wasn’t something she would ever have considered under normal circumstances, but she had prepared for the eventuality after things had steadily gotten worse, when her mother’s voice started sounding more strained. When her brother had ended a call abruptly with a resigned “I love you. You know that right, Sis?”

She steeled herself and climbed into the cab of her ten year old Toyota and threw her backpack onto the seat next to her. A map had been carefully hand marked with estimated rift locations and military barricades along the northern coast. A pistol sat holstered on the dash and two ammo cans sat on the floor of the passenger side next to a large case of water and a box of canned goods. She checked behind the seat to double check that her shotgun was still there. Three extra gas cans sat in the truck bed, along with some pilfered cammo netting and a box of tools and stakes.

She started the car and carefully examined her map as the engine warmed up. She was going to skirt around the major cities, take back roads through the more rural portions of the state until she reached Concord. Last they had heard, that was where a majority of the refugees had congregated. She carefully stuffed the map back up on the dash, closed her eyes and pushed her forehead against the steering wheel. With a determined huff she buckled up, hit reverse and headed north, heart hammering in her chest.

She arrived in Southern New Hampshire almost 24 hours later. She was exhausted, She had expected roads to be blocked off, avoiding military barricades and the like. There were far fewer barricades than there were rifts and even fewer sightings of military personnel. She wondered, not for the first time, if the rumors were true. There was a gas station with melted windows, door falling off of its hinges. She pulled in, pulling her shot gun out from behind the seat.

It was another two hours to her home town. Where she had last heard from her parents, and another hour or two to Concord. Calling would be useless. Most of the cell towers in the area had been damaged or destroyed by demon activity. She had luckily skirted around several rifts, and avoided any run ins with Wraiths. She hated wraiths.

She toed the door open, buttstock jammed into her shoulder rifle barrel pointed at the floor but ready to readjust if necessary, wincing when the bell sounded throughout the store. She relaxed marginally when nothing popped out shooting fire or ice at her. She cleared each aisle with practiced movements, shouldering the firearm when she determined the store was completely empty. After snagging a few snacks and a monster or two she jumped back in the truck and continued north.

Her Ipod wailed distantly, the volume cranked down low as she slowly weaved her way through abandoned back roads. The few people she’d run across had looked hardened, more akin to militia than refugees. It was likely that the majority of people on the coast had evacuated to less chaotic parts of the country, the farther north she got the less she saw of people.

“Oh shit I love this song.” She muttered suddenly recognizing the tune. She turned the volume up to a more audible level. Clearing her throat to sing along if only to help stay awake by keeping her mind active.

 She hummed along to the refrain, brow furrowed the air was shimmering, distorting her view of the road almost like waves of heat in the summer. She hissed when it took on a green tone and tore wide open. “FUCK!” She swerved just in time, the truck jostled and bounced into a ditch and died. She fumbled with her seat belt as a Pride demon stepped out of the Fade and into their world. After freeing herself and snagging her shot gun she leapt from the truck, the cackling demon turned on her, eyes amber and burning. She cocked the shotgun and stuffed the buttstock into her shoulder, determined.

Its hand sizzled with electricity, she grit her teeth and fired.

She had been in trouble, gun knocked away, electrical burns smattered across her torso and spitting blood. When the roar of an engine cut through the grating sound of Pride’s laughter. A large Mad Max looking truck slammed into the side of the demon, knocking it to the side. Five heavily armed men leapt from the back of the vehicle as the driver kicked it into gear and pushed the creature further from her. One broke away from the group of men, “Miss?! Are you alright?” His beard and thin face threw her at first as she stood and scrambled in the opposite direction of the ensuing fight the sounds of semi automatic gun fire rent the air.

“Dylan?” she exclaimed, squinting at the man. He wore loose cargo shorts and a dirty torn ACDC t-shirt.

“Holy shit! Jules!?” He smiled as the demon gave a death knell and collapsed, the ground rumbling beneath their feet. Her brother’s best friend stood in front of her a pair of cheap gas station sunglasses and an assault rifle slung over one shoulder. “The hell are you doing all the way up here?”

“Looking for the Family.” The demon lay in a heap on the ground, its skin dissolving into green light; light that drifted back into the rift in the sky. “Thanks.” Julie intoned, clasping Dylan’s outstretched hand. “I was fully expecting to die in a post apocalyptic wasteland.”

“Ye of little faith.” He clasped at his black t-shirt dramatically. He’d changed, thinned out. “Like we’d let these monsters take our home without a fight.”

Julie snorted and rolled her eyes, before they settled on the mangled remains of her rifle. “That was a good rifle.” She sighed resigned.

“That it was.” Dillain clasped her shoulder and held his hole ridden baseball cap over his heart. “Do you need a moment alone?”

“Somebody put their sassy pants on today.” She shot back, amused.

“They’re my favorite pair.” He replied nonchalantly waving me towards the other four men. “Hey Kyle! Look who decided to take some vacation time!”

Another man pulled his own hat off and tugged the bandana that was tied to cover his lower face down to reveal a shock of white blonde hair and a blinding grin. “Well shit.”

“What are you guys doing all the way down here?” She smiled back closing the distance between them and shaking his hand. Kyle had been her kid neighbor when she was growing up.

“Killing shit mostly.” Dylan answered slinging an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. The blonde hissed, “Oh Babe.” Dylan winced, tugging his long time boyfriend’s sleeve up revealing a burn on his left shoulder. It was wide, like the electrical whip those demons slung around.

“I’m fine, damnit.” Kyle swatted at the other man’s hands. “Don’t you dare coddle me you great oaf.”

“You sure you don’t want me to kiss it better?” Dylan pried, a dopey smile on his face.

Kyle leveled the other man with an unimpressed glare, “God you are such an ass sometimes.” The twitch of his lips belied his underlying amusement. He turned before he gave himself away.

 Dylan sighed as the blonde made his way back to the truck. “There goes my smol angry boyfriend.” A sappy smirk crossed his face. “Love to watch you leave, babe!”

“Fuck you, Dylan.” Kyle responded cheerfully, flicking him off over his shoulder, Dylan guffawed.

“Looking forward to it!” Dylan called back with a smile, “Come on Jules. Matt’s up in Nashua. Everything between there and Manchester has been overrun.”

They drove for an hour, she was tucked in the back of the truck between G.P., a dark skinned man with a wicked scar that ran through his right eye, and Rob who was missing three and a half fingers off of his left hand but seemed to make due without.

“That’s a wicked scar.” Julie nodded at G.P. “Recent?” The man couldn’t have been a day over thirty and still held a soft edge of fat on his frame.

“Yeah.” He responded, “Got ripped pretty good by one of those green nightmarish bean poles.” He’d said with a wicked smirk. “Had to learn how to shoot on the other side.”

Jules whistled low in appreciation. “Kill it?”

“You know I did.” He shot back, adjusting his rifle on his knee. The rest of the ride was spent comparing stories and battle scars, passing news from other states.

The neighborhood they pulled into was heavily fortified, sturdy looking barricades fenced in the two blocks of apartment buildings. Heavily armed people stood on top of elevated platforms, and she spotted even more on the upper decks of the buildings, on rooftops. Dylan waved jauntily back to the gate guards as they drove through at a crawl and swung into a makeshift parking spot next to what looked like a monster truck on steroids.

“Here we are.” He announced breathing deep and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Home sweet home.”

“Impressive set up.” She stated, looking at a raised garden bed they had constructed in a driveway.

“C’mon, Matt probably got back from his patrol hours ago.”

The apartment buildings had been cleared of all non-essential furnishings. The Couches and tables littered detached garages instead as communal lounge areas. Cots were crammed into the bedrooms, and living areas. Dylan led Julie through a ground floor apartment, deftly dodging around other people. He poked his head into the rearmost bedroom. “Hey, hope you’re decent Matt. You’ve got company.”

“I swear to god, Dylan if this is another person bitching about privacy or space I’m going to lose my shit.” Matt grumbled irritably, Padding to the door, clad in nothing but sweats, dog tags hanging around his neck. His hair had grown out, looking shaggy and ruffled from sleep, a short well groomed beard darkened his chin. “ Julie! The fuck are you doing here?” He hissed, pulling her into his room. He dwarfed her by a solid foot and was built like a brick shit house, just like she remembered. Dylan shut the door quietly behind him.

“I couldn’t stay away. Our last phone call didn’t end on a very comforting note.” She pointed out grimly.

“AWOL?” He glowered, “You couldn’t have just sent a note?”

“Through what mailing system?” She shot back. “Besides the military has a lot more to deal with than tracking down one AWOL Marine.”

Matt sat on his cot; the thin aluminum frame creaked beneath him. “Yeah I bet. The units around here have been running fewer patrols.”

“They’re withdrawing, going west. Evacuating who they can.” She sat across from him, grimly. “Which considering the loss of most of our aircraft, isn’t a lot.”

“Shit.” Dylan cussed from where he was leaning against the wall. “We need to tell G.P. If they’re moving out we may need to move the camp to a more defensible location.”

Matt ran a hand through his dark hair.  A string of profanities, both English and Spanish, muttered under his breath. “Go let him know. We’ll meet him down at 117.” Dylan strode from the room, closing the door behind him. “You should have evacuated with your unit.” Matt scolded her after a moment of silence.

“And leave my family to rot?” she scoffed, “Where are mom and dad, anyways?” She inquired, half dreading the answer.

“Jules.” Matt looked at her, his eyes were tired, sunken, rimmed with dark circles that spoke of short nights and long days. “They’re gone.” He choked on the last word, looking like a man who would very much love to cry, but had already shed all his tears. She felt her breath leave her body suddenly, ears ringing. They didn’t meet with G.P. until much later.

The attack happened a week later. They were planning to evacuate the refugee camp. Move west. They had been in the middle of a meeting, outlining several routes and alternate routes, plotting out known rifts and the like.

A rift opened in the middle of the block, they were on the top floor of the nearest apartment building when the screaming started. “Son of a bitch.” G.P. Snarled, unslinging a rifle and charging out of the door, shouting orders over his shoulder. “Matt, Kyle snipe em, cover us while we evacuate everyone we can.”

Matt and Kyle snagged long range rifles obediently, tossing Julie a semi automatic weapon. “We cover them, you cover us, Sis.” Matt stated, pushing through the door and making his way to the roof.

The boys situated themselves in the prone on the roof. There were several plywood platforms built especially for sniping purposes, sand bags lined the edges of the roof to help steady rifle muzzles. Kyle took up a position on one side and Matt on the other.

The rift had spit out two nightmare demons and several wraiths. Wraiths were easy to dispose of after a few shots, a few drifted too closely to the boys and Julie swiftly disposed of them, only suffering from a few minor burns.

The nightmares, however, tended to teleport to the nearest threatening combatant. One of them popped up in the middle of the roof, separating Matt from Kyle and Julie. It swiped its claws at the youngest Waters sibling, sending him rolling away, bleeding heavily. Julie felt the world stop for a moment. Her brother lay unmoving at the feet of the nightmare demon.

Kyle’s arms slipped around her, hauling her backwards. “NO!” She screamed, fighting against Kyle’s hold. “MATT!” the puddle of blood beneath him kept growing, he wasn’t moving. Medic, where were the medics? He needed immediate attention. He needed help. She broke free of her friend’s hold, unsheathing a KBAR from her belt with clumsy fingers as she charged at the green nightmarish demon that had torn her brother to pieces. It turned, a clicking snarl her only warning before it lunged.

“JULES!” Kyle cried out, her gaze strayed to her friend, he was fending off the second Nightmare. Slowly retreating towards the door. “He’s gone, He’s lost too much blood! We gotta go!”

She snarled and sobbed all at once, burying the long blade into the demon’s side, avoiding it’s initial attack and pulling the blade free as it screamed. “I have to get him. We can’t just leave him here!” She argued tearfully, moving in for another strike, shifting herself slowly to position herself between it and her brother. “Hold on hold on. I’m coming, you’re going to be fine-“

“Waters! God damnit-“ Kyle’s exasperated exclamation drew her attention again. The nightmare took advantage of her distraction and swiped at her, claws ripping into the soft tissue of her stomach.

The world seemed to narrow, her head light, her gaze drifted back to Kyle. His mouth was open, eyes wide, but she couldn’t hear him. She stumbled backwards, her leg hit the edge of the flat roof and she toppled backwards. Falling down, down towards the rift. The green tinted sky and swirling clouds were the last things she saw of her world.

The spirit was bright, a white formless beacon in the grey/green of the fade. “You wish to live. To go back.” It stated. It was a fact; she very much wanted to live. Her brother lay dying in the waking world she’d just been thrown from and she wanted to go back. She might be able to save him. “It is not possible for you to go back.” The spirit informed her, remorse thick in its voice. “There is nothing to go back to.”

“What do you mean nothing to go back to?” Julie exclaimed, she clenched her fists. “I was just there! My brother-“

“Is dead.” The spirit stated bluntly, regret and sorrow permeated the air around it.  Julie felt a sob bubble up in her throat at the information and crumpled to the ground. “Your body was beyond repair when you entered the dreaming.” Julie felt her eyes drift down to look at her hands. They were transparent.

“No, no.” She denied, quaking as she attempted to hold back her grief. Tears leaked from her eyes. “This is impossible. He’s still alive. I can help I can-“

“I speak the truth.” The spirit insisted, drifting closer.

“Then what?” Julie sniffled up at the spirit, hating herself for breaking down in front of it. “I just stay here forever? Drifting around without purpose?”

“If that is what you wish.” The spirit said, then after a pause “There is possibly another way. But this is an… uncertain path.”

“But there’s still a chance?” Julie stood, tripping over herself in her haste. “How?”

“You will need to venture to another realm, parallel to your own.” It explained, patiently. “You know of it already.”

“Thedas?” Julie squeaked. “How am I going to do that?! You just said I couldn’t go back because I didn’t have a body-“

The spirit hummed, interrupting “I will have to craft you a new body.” It stated as if it were a simple thing. “And then it will be easy to find an opening to the waking.”

“I don’t want a new body.” She denied stubbornly. “I want my old body and my life back. If you can make a new body in Thedas why can’t you do it back on Earth?”

“Thedas’ ties with the fade are stronger than your home realm.” The spirit explained, exuding feelings of calm and comfort. “The magics required to recreate your body are more easily drawn upon in Thedas. Worry not; I will endeavor to make your form as it was.” It continued to assure her. Julie stared at the spirit, choking on a million questions. It drifted backwards. “You have many questions.” It observed.

“You must be very old.” Julie finally said. “To be able to make a body from nothing.”

“I am.” It agreed. “But that is hardly the breadth of your curiosity. And not relevant, besides.” It drifted away from her and Julie followed, legs wobbly. “You wish to know how to get home. I cannot promise you that you will return, and if you do you will not be as you once were.”

“Yeah, thanks Gandalf, I think I’m okay with that.” Julie replied, more for her own benefit than the spirits.

It continued as if she had not spoken, “The ancients used relics known as Eluvians to travel from one side of Thedas to the other. Some of these relics, lead to other worlds. One in particular leads to yours. Though I know not which or where it resides now.”

“Helpful.” Julie snarked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Are you ready?” The spirit inquired, the air near it twisting, opening.

“For wha-“ There was magic swirling, pulling, sucking her in. Ready to push her out. She turned bewildered to the Spirit, it cradled an orb of light to its chest. “What, wait hang on!” She back pedaled, despite having known she would need to get to Thedas somehow, she felt panic swell in her chest and an intense urge to stop it from happening. “Wait, wait-“ The magic didn’t wait, she was sucked through.

The next thing she knew she was waking up on the forest floor, her face far too close to a Rage demon for comfort and her body very much not like how it used to be.

Chapter Text

Day 96 (pt. 2)

I don’t know how long I sat there on the ground after the barrage of emotions and images had faded into some pulsing hurtful monstrosity latched around my heart. My face was wet. My chest hurt and all I could think of was that I had lost everything. My family was dead, my mom and dad, my- Matt.

“-No. No.” Cole was saying, sounding fierce and angry.

“Cole please, calm yourself.” Solas’ voice was a valiant attempt at calm, but the underlying edge of frustration peaked through.

“You haven’t been helping. You’ve been hurting!” A pair of hands gently gripped my shoulders and I jerked to stare up at Cole through blurry eyes. His expression was angry, hurt.

“Cole-“ Solas stated, but whatever he was going to say was cut off when Cole transported us back into the grotto’s center.

“It’s all wrong,” Cole muttered pacing around me, wringing his hands, “He said he wanted to help. But he’s not.” He stopped, his thin form shaking with anger. “He lied.”

I wanted to say that lying is what he does.  But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t completely true and Cole was his friend. If I weren’t there then they wouldn’t be having this problem. I didn’t belong here. “Cole it’s okay.” I stated instead, my tone was vacant. I reached out as he was passing by me to snag his sleeve and pull him closer.

“No it’s not.” He made a small noise as I tugged him down onto the grass with me. “Ripping tearing, searching. He won’t ask-why won’t he ask?”  I wrapped my arms around him and clenched my eyes closed tight.

“Cole, you didn’t know.” I tightened my grip. I just needed a hug, Cole needed a hug. Someone he counted as a friend had used him. Lied to him. Because of me. Why?

Cole jerked in my arms. “Hot fresh pain sears the insides. Floating. Set adrift in a sea alone.” His arms wrapped around me tentatively. “You don’t think you belong but you do. You think it’s all your fault but it’s not.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks again. They burned paths into my skin and I fought back my sobs, trying and failing to push the memories I’d just regained away to deal with another time.

“It’s all wrong. I’m sorry.” Cole whispered into my hair, rocking back and forth, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

We stayed like that until I woke up.

Bonus Solas POV

She sat staring blankly past him after her memories had faded, tears slipping down her cheeks. Solas could feel spirits and demons alike pressing against the barriers he had placed around the area. Drawn by the intense emotions Da'erelan was emitting.

He reached forward, concern twisting his insides. Cole slapped his hand away. The spirit turned mortal was so upset he was practically vibrating. “Don’t touch her.” Sorrow and despair started permeating the air, spirits beyond the barrier were growing frenzied.

“Cole, I only want to help.” Solas insisted, attempting to placate his angry friend. He may have had ulterior motives for making sure the area was secure enough for Da’erelan when she reclaimed her memories, it was true. But he had never intended to hurt her, or Cole. To be the cause of such fear and despair...

“No. No.” Cole shook his head moving backwards, hands out in front of himself as if to keep Solas back.

“Cole please, calm yourself.” Solas urged, frustration leaking into his tone.

“You haven’t been helping. You’ve been hurting!” Cole  gripped Julie’s shoulders. The contact made Julie jerk, her head snapping to look up at Cole. Her expression was still largely vacant. Solas felt his stomach twist further.

“Cole-“ Solas started. But the spirit only fade stepped away, taking the girl with him.

Solas stood in the clearing long after Cole had absconded with Julie. Guilt weighing heavily in his gut. He knew that his actions had extending repercussions, the Inquisitor’s memories had shown that much, but to see that they had been so extensive.

The Veil had severed the fade from the waking world, this was true, but it had cut off a parallel world from it as well. The Breach hadn’t simply torn a hole in their side of the veil but had punched straight through to the other side, their side. It had fractured the veil causing other tears to branch out throughout their world.

Her world didn’t have an anchor to tie everything back together, close the rifts neatly like they had here. It was his fault she had lost her family, his fault that she had nearly died. His fault that she would have no world to return to. His fault.

He had been so intent on getting the answers to his questions. So intent on making sure his plans were safe he hadn’t considered how traumatic her memories would have been, hadn’t considered Cole would pick up on her reluctance to be near him, the fear rolling off of her in waves (So much fear it hurt), he hadn’t considered a lot of things.

Too caught up in his plans, in his desperation to maintain control. He had been hasty and prideful. Remnants of his youth he’d thought he had outgrown. He needed answers to his questions, to do that he needed to find her and make things right. The glimmering spirit from her memories slipped into the clearing. Exuding waves of calm and reassurance. “Hello, Purpose.” Solas greeted, a wry smile quirking his lips.

“Hello old friend.” It greeted drifting further into the clearing.

“You took her memories?” Solas quietly inquired. The spirit bobbed in acquiescence. “Why?”

“You saw them.” It retorted. “They could not remain if she was to have any hope of survival. She needs to survive to fulfill her purpose.”

Solas eyed his old friend skeptically. Spirits hardly ever did anything this substantial for free. It was always an equivalent exchange. “Why help her at all, what did you get out of all of this?”

“So concerned, Fen’Harel.” Purpose drifted closer. “You have become fond of the girl.”

“I suppose I have. She is-“ She was many things. But he was unsure of what she was to him. He shook his head and pinned the spirit with a stern glare. “You are diverting.” It chortled. Delighted.

“Poorly it seems.” Purpose conceded. “Perhaps the fulfillment of her purpose will benefit me as well.”

“What is her purpose?” Solas frowned at them. Solas refused to believe her purpose was to simply return to her dying world.

If Purpose had a mouth he was sure it would be curled up into a smug smile. “All will become clear soon enough.”

Chapter Text

Day 100

Jess and her companions finally returned to Skyhold a few days ago.

Jess was pulled into the war room pretty much as soon as they got back. And since then has been ferreted off by her advisors. Classes from the sounds of things.

Cole came to find me as soon as he got through the gates. Gave me a real hug (It was a good long one too). I’d had some time to obsess over what everyone’s reactions would be. It made me so nervous that I decided to let them come to me. If they wanted to be around me, they’d find me. I wasn’t actively avoiding them…well not all of them. Just one of them…

Which, considering how the man has been virtually everywhere he normally isn’t, has been quite a feat.

It’s forced me to use stealth magic a lot. I’ve been using this opportunity to explore (hide)  previously un-trod territory (The kitchens, the Barracks, old crumbling rooms in towers the masons haven’t gotten to yet). So much that I wore myself down.  Today was especially hard, I’ve been sleeping like shit and feeling drained and useless lately. So obviously I was not at the top of my game and completely unprepared for Solas to come waltzing into the dining hall like he owned the place (And at one point he did so I guess I can forgive that). His expression focused as he scanned the room.

I hoped he was looking for some unfortunate servant who was late in delivering his breakfast. But nope, his eyes landed on me, he squared his shoulders. My heart climbed into my throat as he made a beeline for me. I jumped out of my seat ready to run, my mind was sluggish and my nerves frayed. Then suddenly my fear was washed away by anger (Blinding, red bleeding into the edges of your vision, anger). I think I would have actually fought him (Like physically) if Cole hadn’t popped in to whisk me away before Solas made it halfway across the room.

I’m still pretty pissed about the fade debacle. Actually, ‘pretty pissed’ is too tame... ‘Fucking livid’ fits better. That asshole assaulted my mind and saw my memories. He had no right to see any of that. I know why he’s doing it. He’s probably curious about exactly what I know. About him and his future. Didn’t have to be such a dick about it though…

Cole and I have been (sporadically) keeping each other company over the last few days (I believe most people would classify it as hiding) in various hard to reach places around Skyhold (I think it was only because he could find me wherever I went). He didn’t stay with me all day every day. He would disappear off to do Cole things like steal radishes and knives.

Today was one of those days where he had more important things to do than Hangout. After whisking me out of the dining hall he dropped me on top of the watch tower, I just kind of took in the scenery and started deep breathing exercises. I was still so mad I’d started shaking; I couldn’t face him until I’d figured everything out. I needed a little space and a little time.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Varric’s voice startled me from my thoughts; I whirled around to find him dusting off his pants. “Been back at Skyhold for three days and didn’t get a hug from my favorite off worlder. I’m hurt Scribbles.” He frowned at me as I shrunk back, arms folded over my stomach.

“I didn’t think you would want to see me.” I admitted. I felt a little silly, I’ll admit that. I figured they’d be angry with me for lying, or would see me differently. Deep deep down I knew it was presumptuous of me, but fuck. I was still terrified to see these people I’d come to care for hate me.

“Now why would you think that?” Varric chided, moving to stand closer.

It took me a while to work up the courage to respond to the question. I half hoped that Varric would start talking again, but he just waited. “Because. I wasn’t honest with you. I hid things about me and about the future-“ I was rambling, spilling my guts to my dwarven friend.

He listened to it all patiently, arms crossed across his ridiculously hairy chest. “I never meet anyone normal.” He muttered to himself after I had shut the hell up. “Alright yeah, It’s a little weird that you come from some alternate reality from beyond the fade. And also kind of awkward that you can see the future.” He stated outright. “But who cares, we’re all a little weird. The Kid can read minds, for fucks sake.” I chuckled a bit at that, sliding down to sit, with my back to the flagstone. Varric sat next to me, bumping his shoulder into my arm. “Bottom line is we’re still your friends.”

I let that sit between us and Varric picked a piece of lint off his sleeve before continuing. “Tiny won’t admit it but he’s a little worried he hasn’t seen you.” Varric grinned, “He’s been dying to know his future.” I snorted, letting a wavering smile peak through. “And Hero’s been asking around for you.”

It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Blackwall and when I finally pieced it together I rolled my eyes. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure it out honestly, with the suggestive way he said it. “How many times do I have to say there’s nothing there before you get that there’s nothing there?” I insisted. Varric hummed. He didn’t believe me, or did but would continue to tease me about it until I died of embarrassment (or tried to throttle him). The latter was incredibly tempting. “There isn’t!” My tone was exasperated, but my expression was amused.

“There she is.” Varric murmured. “You up for a drink?”

“Several.” I conceded standing and holding a hand out to help Varric up.

We made our way down to the Tavern and settled down at an out of the way table. Bull wasn’t present. He and the chargers were training in the yard. Varric waved down a server and settled across the table fro me. “Now what have you been up to.”

I regaled him with my adventures thus far, leaving out details about Anders that would tip Varric off to his true identity. Though I think he knew something was off because he started telling a story that involved Anders a cat and a nobleman directly afterwards, keeping a careful eye on my reactions.

Jess plopped down across the table soon after we had polished off our first drink, shoving another tankard of ale towards me. “Thanks for watching her Varric.”

Varric nodded, “My pleasure,” He stooped into a shallow bow, grin stretching across his face. “Ladies.”

I scowled, wrapping my hands around the mug. “I don’t need a baby sitter Jess.

“I missed you too, Jules.” Jess shot back. The quip had more bite in it than usual. She was having a rough day then.

I instantly deflated, “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough…week.”

“Try a rough month.” Jess groused over her own drink. “And it won’t be getting much easier from here on out either.”

“Yeah, Halamshiral is coming up isn’t it.” I pointed out wrinkling my nose. Hob knobbing with Orlesian nobles sounded like something I’d rather not do. I would rather be sent to the deep roads than attend the ball at the winter palace. Which was of course why Jess (and the universe) decided that they would love to drag me along for the ride.

“I just got back!” I exclaimed after Jess none too gently broke the news, hands wrapped around my tankard. “And you’re dragging me to Halamshiral?”

Jess winced. “I know, I’m sorry.” She curled her fingers into the fabric of my sleeve. “But I neeed you!” I groaned and let my head fall against the tavern table. “Josephine has been shuffling me between etiquette lessons and tailors. Leliana’s been stuffing Orlesian heraldry and ancestry down my throat. You’re like, my light in the endless sea of Orlesian crap.”

I couldn’t help it I giggled into the table. “Misery loves company huh?”

“Yeah, plus you know.” She shrugged downing the last of her own ale, “You’ve been doing your scout thing and I’ve been doing my Inquisitor thing. We haven’t hung out in forever.”

“Inquisitor!” A messenger called out from across the tavern. Jess stood abruptly face paling and eyes going wide.

I laughed, finishing my own mug. “Speaking of Inquisitor things aren’t you supposed to be in a class or-“ She interrupted me by picking me up and tossing me over her shoulder. I shrieked. “Oh My God-JESS!” And she took off, her freakishly long legs covering ground quickly.

“If I have to sit through one more god forsaken etiquette lesson today Spontaneous combustion will become the leading cause of death in Skyhold.” She grunted, taking steps two at a time and bursting out onto the battlements. Her steps stuttered as she waffled on which way to run.

The messenger emerged from behind us, breathing hard, “Inquisitor, the Ambassador-“

“Will never take me alive!” Jess proclaimed before shooting off towards the watch tower.

“MY LADY INQUISITOR!”

We ended up holing up in my room, a dresser pushed up against the door. Jess tossed me a bottle of wine and lounged on my bed, I sat on the dresser. “Shouldn’t you be sitting on the dresser?”

“You calling me fat?” Jess inquired before she took a swig of wine to hide her smile.

“Well…” I gestured to my diminutive stature and then to her giant self. “And since when do you drink?”

“Since everyone became aware that we’re off worlders and got all butt hurt about it.” Jess muttered around the mouth of her bottle. “Which I suspect is the reason I’ve been waltzing blisters onto my blisters…Literally waltzing.”

I sighed. “They’re not as mad at you as they are with me.”

“Yeah the whole knowing the future thing.” Jess mused gently swirling the bottle. “Cullen is kind of pissed.”

“Kind of?” I snorted. “I’m pretty sure he’s completely a hundred percent livid. He tried to murder me with his eyes the other day.” And I’d never met the man. Character wise I did like Cullen. But I doubted he would ever address me with anything but aloof professionalism…ever. “His eyes, Jess.”

Jess sighed, “I know, man.” She tugged at one of her horns. “At least Josephine is passive aggressive about the whole thing and Leliana-“

“Has already questioned me relentlessly.” I pointed out.

Jess smirked at me, crossing her legs. “Yeah she was a little excited about the prospect of foresight.”

“Incredibly subjective foresight!” I shot back. “I mean if we deviate even minutely from the main plot-“

“I know and they know. Maker.” Jess interrupted. “You did give them the info they needed right?”

“About Halamshiral?” I shot back. “Do I look suicidal to you? Of course I did.”

“Suicidal? Leliana would hardly kill you.” Jess waved at me. I just stared her down. “What?!”

“If she thought I were a threat…”

“Oh right….”

“Inquisitor?” A muffled voice (sounding suspiciously like the spymaster in question) from the other side of the door cut through the awkward silence. “Jessica, are you in there?” The door knob rattled.

“Nope nobody by that name in here.” Jess called out popping off of the bed, waving her half full bottle of wine at the door.

A heavy sigh could barely be heard through the thick wood. “Inquisitor,” Josephine’s accented tones drifted to us “You are late for your dance lesson.” Jess made a face at the door and I took a swig of wine. There was another loud sigh and muffled murmuring from the other side.

“You know,” I stated, studying the bottle in my hands, “This is technically the fifth time I’ve been taken hostage.”

“It doesn’t count.” Jess snorted.

“How does this not count?” I inquired gesturing to the room.

“Obviously we’re best friends.” Jess argued, “And also, obviously, you were compliant to the whole arrangement.”

“When was I compliant?” I sputtered. “When you threw me over your shoulder and barricaded us in my room?

“It is your room.”

“Not the point.”

“Inquisitor? Who else is in there?” Cullen’s voice called out.

“I have a hostage!” Jess called back.

“No she doesn’t!” I added in.

“You just said I did.” Jess stage whispered back to me.

“And you said that you didn’t…and…Well…I don’t want this added to my official track records and shit.” I responded with a shrug.

“So you’ve been technically, unofficially taken hostage a fifth time.” Jess reiterated blandly.

“Is that Waters?” Leliana’s voice inquired, her tone amused.

“This is her room.” Josephine pointed out.

“Not relevant!” I called back to them.

“Inquisitor, this is ridiculous.” Cullen scolded grumpily. “Come out and we can discuss this like rational adults.”

Jess and I exchanged a look. “He thinks we’re adults?” I inquired, mock surprise dripping from every word. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted…”

“It’s cute that he thinks we’re rational.” She mused. We dissolved into a fit of muffled giggling.

“I can hear you.” Cullen retorted from the other side.

“Great.” Jess snarked, facing the door and leaning against the dresser. “Then listen up. We’re taking the day off. No paperwork, no classes, no dignitaries and no god damned dancing.”

“Be reasonable-“ Cullen started but was cut off by a soft word from one of the other advisors.

“We accept your terms.” Leliana projected calmly a few minutes later, amusement still coloring her tone. “We will see you both at classes tomorrow morning.”

Jess and I sat quietly until we were sure they had left. “Now that we have the day off…. how are you doing?” Jess asked finally, polishing off her bottle of wine, and reaching for a second. “Like, really?”

“I’m okay.” She leveled me with a disbelieving look. “Okay, I’m not okay but I will be. I just need a little time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She hedged, rolling the unopened bottle between her palms.

I shrugged and cast a sideways glance at my friend, “Do you?” Jess didn’t know what I had discovered in my memories, but given the state of the world when we left she could probably guess. She wouldn’t pry if I didn’t want to talk about it, she was great like that. But at the same time it would be nice for someone to know. Someone who knew my brother, my Family, to know what had happened.

“Alright,” she put her bottle down and put a fist on her palm. “Loser goes first.”

We tied the first round of ‘Rock paper scissors’ and I lost the second time.

So I told her. The whole sordid thing. It took me a while. I choked up a few times. Had to stop and breathe. And then she told me her story. Her sister and Niece were dead; her parents (despite not having had a great relationship with them in the first place) were gone.

By the end of it we were lying side by side, more than a little inebriated, our fingers laced and eyes puffy. We stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other’s presence in silence.

Chapter Text

Day 103

My feet hurt, my brain hurts. I hate my life.

For the past three days the Advisors have been shuffling me and Jess through etiquette classes, dance classes, you name it we’ve been studying it. As we’re going through all this crap, I find I care very little (surprise surprise) for the duke of wherever’s love affairs. We have a month left of this torment. I mean really, the likelihood of me actually dancing at this thing are slim (Leliana plans to have me act as Jess’ handmaiden).

They’ve broken up the dance classes, probably to give the poor instructor a bit of a break from the absolute chaos we could cause together (Because let’s be honest, you stick us all in a room together there will be chaos). Sera, the Iron Bull and Jess are in the earlier time slot (Which is just asking for trouble really. Though I hear Sera hasn’t attended a single class yet which does not surprise me at all), which is coincidentally at the same time that I’m learning about all the obscure places to hide weapons while in a gown (Surprisingly many, and most of them run into uncomfortable territory). Varric and Blackwall are in my class, mostly to brush up on their dance skills. Vivienne, Dorian, Solas and Cassandra already know how to dance ridiculously well apparently (or refuse to attend completely, I’ll never know…).

I should have started journaling days ago. Cause some interesting drama started happening. I guess I really just didn’t want to think about it at the time. And now it’s bugging me so I have to write it out.

It started after my dance lesson, the very first one. I had just left and was wobbling away from the room, intent on collapsing and wallowing for a few hours. “My Lady,” Blackwall called after me. I remember a few choice curses ran through my head, because I hurt and I wanted to sit down. But instead of protesting, I paused, and turned to watch him approach. His brow was furrowed and his lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown. “A word.”

He led me to an unmanned portion of the ramparts, hand trailing over the top of the waist high wall.

“The Inquisitor informed us that, you have some knowledge of events to come-“ he cut himself off awkwardly, “that you know things about each of us...”

The emphasis he placed on ‘know’ was unnecessary. As soon as he brushed the subject of foresight it hit me like a ton of bricks. He was nervous that I knew about him. And wasn’t that what everything boiled down to now a days (I almost miss the days where I was known for my knack for getting into trouble, not that long ago actually) . He was looking out over the Frostbacks, shoulders a tense line. I lay a hand on his back tentatively. “You want to know what I know about you?” I asked, half hoping he wouldn’t be as big a glutton for judgment and condemnation as he seemed in the game.

He’d done horrible things. He’d lied about them; he posed as a Grey Warden. But he was still trying to help, even knowing he could be caught in his lie. I think he was half hoping someone would figure him out. End his guilt in a permanent sort of way. Why were half of the people I hung out with Grim and Fucking fatalistic?

He didn’t answer me, I dropped my hand. God damnit he really was a glutton for judgment and condemnation. “Thom.” I used his real name, urging him to look at me, when he did he looked so remorseful it was…heart wrenching. God damnit.

“Then you know. About me, about what I’ve done.” He stepped away from me.

“Yes.” I twisted my hands in my tunic, “I know that you ordered your men to kill a man and his family. I know you ran, leaving them to take the fall.” He was looking over the mountains again. “I also know you were going to go through the Joining. But the real Blackwall was killed before you had the chance. I know you took up his mantel because you didn’t want the world to lose a great man; you wanted to do some good to make up for the wrongs you committed. You stayed with the Inquisition, an organization dedicated to ferretting out secrets, despite the risks. You may have done horrible things in your life Thom. But you’re not a bad man.” He looked less than convinced, it was irksome. I could tell him I believed he’d changed, that I could tell he was truly sorry for the atrocities he’d committed (during a war no less, horrible things happened during war) until I was blue in the face. He wouldn’t believe me unless he wanted to. “You’re not a monster, but if you don’t want to believe me you won’t. And I am not going to force this down your throat.” I sighed, tugging at my braid, feeling the day catch up to me suddenly. I couldn’t deal with all this angst at once. It was exhausting. “Just think about it okay?” I made myself scarce. Took a bath, read a bit and passed the hell out.

The next day (Yesterday) Blackwall was the only one in our dance class, Varric had to take care of some business or another. He went through the proper Orlesian motions and swept me into an easy dance. I stepped on his feet and stumbled even though he was going slower than the average dancer. I’m certain I saw the instructor down a few glasses of wine (I think I’m driving the man to alcoholism and I feel only mildly bad about it). We didn’t talk much past pleasantries and constant apologies (I stepped on his toes… a lot).

I slouched down towards the dining hall afterwards, determined to at least eat something before I fell bonelessly into a hot tub of water that night. Between Solas being an asshole (though he seemed to be avoiding me now, which I am more than okay with), Blackwall being angsty, and still trying to shoulder past my stages of grieving. I was more than a little emotionally worn out. I was off in my own little world, so I wasn’t quite prepared for Bull to heft me up, toss me over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and start walking away from the dining hall.

“I can walk you know!” I exclaimed, from where I was propped up on my elbows staring at the gawping faces we passed on our way towards what I guessed was the tavern. “Why do the resident Qunari enjoy tossing me over their shouders?”

Bull chuckled. “Just Qunari? No burly Grey Wardens sweeping you off your feet?”

“Don’t you start with that again. You and Varric are incorrigible.” I retorted sourly. Blackwall was too ensconced in his own drama and wasn’t the type to pursue. At least not that I was aware of, Solas sure as shit was a lot more affectionate than I’d banked on. I hoped I was right about Blackwall. “The rumor mill is fit to burst with bullshit about me anyways.” I groused as an afterthought.

And it was. It was rumored that I was secretly a hedge mage, raised by spirits in the Wilds of Ferelden. It got worse and much more elaborate when it came to the foresight thing. Claiming I was an all seeing prophetess, the whole thing stunk of Varric (Of mahogany and leather bound books).

The mountain of a man, ducked through the tavern door, stooping to place me on my feet before steering me towards a table inhabited by Varric, Dorian, and Jess. “Heeeeeey!” Jess crowed at the sight of me. “You found her!” she waved us over enthusiastically.

“Scribbles.” Varric raised his glass to me. “Glad you could join us.”

“Please, tell me this isn’t the pressing business you had to address this morning.” I inquired of the dwarven man, sitting across from him. Bull plopped down in a chair beside me, the wood groaned.

Dorian sniffed, “Not specifically that tankard of subpar alcohol of course. But perhaps the several that came before it.”

“Sparkler! You wound me.” Varric smirked at me. “I made myself scarce so the love birds could have some alone time.”

Bull let loose a booming laugh, pouring a strong smelling liquor into his cup. Jess smacked the table. “Oh my god. Varric you didn’t” she crowed, clearly well into her cups at that point.

“He did.” I made a disgusted noise.

“Well?” She wheedled.

“Well what?” I shot back, surly. I was tired, and dirty and my feet hurt.

“Did he twirl you? No! No wait- did he dip you?” She grinned at me.

“No! I trip over my own two feet on the simple box step!” I buried my head in my hands, absolutely mortified “Why does everyone think that we’re a thing?! And why is my love life suddenly a chief concern here?” I won’t lie. My voice got a little….squeaky…

“You get so worked up when we talk about it.” Bull interjected, “Makes it fun.”

“You cannot be that oblivious Jules.” Jess groaned. “He’s been mooning over you since he dragged you through Skyhold. Seriously I feel like he should be named inquisitor… what with all the damn questions.” She slumped over her tankard.

“He is not a subtle man.” Dorian added on with a smirk.

Bull clapped my shoulder sending me lurching forward in my seat. “Its all in how he looks at you, kitten. Big cow eyes.”

I slapped at his hand, aghast at the nickname he so nonchalantly tacked on, “Don’t call me that-“

He barked out another laugh, “You love it!”

“I don’t!” I jabbed a finger at the man.

“See,” Bull leaned in close, “Worked up.”

“You are adorable when you get mad, Scribbles.” Varric interjected.

“The cutest.” Jess assured me, like that’s what I was worried about.

Dorian chuckled as I sputtered, swirling wine in his goblet. “Don’t worry darling, I don’t see anything there either.” The mage reassured me.

“Well finally.” I stated in exasperated gratitude. But Dorian wasn’t finished.

“I mean there’s no real chemistry. You and Solas on the other hand-“ The Mage implied, I groaned.

“I rescind my previous feelings of gratitude.” I grumbled.

“Ugh.” Jess groaned interrupting the mage next to her. “Don’t start with the Solas thing.” She groused.

“You see it too Inquisitor, that’s why you protest it so.” The Tevene took a sip of his wine, mustache twitching.

“Can we please drop the subject!?” I spoke up, waving my arms to a nearby waitress for a drink, “We can talk about anything else! Muffins, rainbows, the fact that Cassandra doesn’t wear any underpants- Anything!”

“Wait what?” Varric leaned forward curiosity clear on his face “Seeker doesn’t wear-“

“See Dorian she doesn’t want to talk about him.” Jess cut the dwarf off and I withered a bit in my seat.

“You two have been weirdly distant.” Dorian pointed out.

“Not that they’ve ever been particularly close.” Jess interjected sullenly.

“Oooh did something happen?” Dorian speculated. “Lovers quarrel?” I snagged the tankard that was set in front of me and took a huge swig of it, resigning myself to being heckled for the foreseeable future.

“They aren’t lovers.” Jess hissed at her fellow mage. “He’s just weirdly fixated and she’s too nice to be mean. Besides, we’re best friends.” She slammed her tankard down, “She would tell me if they got together.”

“She knows the two of you don’t get along.” Bull pointed out, “Maybe she just doesn’t want to upset you.”

“She’s sitting right here.” I groused. I was largely ignored.

“She’d tell me.” Jess insisted, “Should he hurt her, I am honor bound as a best friend - Nay! A sister in all but blood - to rip off his limbs and leave him to a limbless potato-like existence.”

“That,” Bull raised his glass in Jess’ direction, “Was beautiful boss.”

I let my head fall onto the table. “I’m not with anyone.” I intoned into the wood grain. “I’m not aiming to be with anybody. Can we drop it?”

“Alright, Scribbles.” Varric intoned gently. “We’ll leave it for now.”

“Can we leave it forever?” I didn’t get an answer. They did however leave off my love life for the rest of the evening. Finally letting me stagger my way to my room for some well deserved rest after a few rounds of wicked grace and Varric inquiring loudly as to why I was privy to information about Cassadra’s rather risqué undergarment choices.

I didn’t make it to my room without incident however.

“You’re her?” the streetwise voice of Sera halted me in my tracks. I had been so close to my quarters. So close to going to sleep. She stepped away from the wall squinting at me. “An elf? You would be elfy with all that weird future magic shite.” Sera sniffed at me, disdain apparent on her face as she appraised me. She leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest. “You don’t have a stiffy for elven glory too do you?”

“I…Don’t really know what that’s supposed to be, but I lack the bits for having a hard on for it.” I admitted slowly. Sera laughed suddenly.

“I see why she’s friends with you.” Sera stated, her stance was still guarded, but much less tense than before.

“And I highly doubt that all the elves in skyhold talk about wibbly wobbly veily weily shit either.” I pointed out, unabashedly quoting the doctor and twisting his words to my use. I may have also been slurring the shit out of my words.

“Alright not all of em.” Sera admitted looking a little put out, or maybe she scrunched her face up because I was a little hard to understand. I remember I lost my balance just standing still at that point and was clinging to the wall as if I would float off if I let go. She sniggered, slinging my arm around her shoulders. “Drunk off your arse, you are. Where’s your room?”

I snorted, at her, my eyes starting to cross without my consent. “Above the gardens. Fifth door in?”  Sera stopped and peered at me critically before cussing and wheeling around with me and hauling me back to the tavern.

I remember banging my shin against something in her room before Sera shoved my onto her couch thing, a pile of pillows and blankets dumped unceremoniously ntop of me before I passed out.

I found myself in the fade, wandering the mountains. Strange as I usually just popped up in my grotto bubble or wherever I fell asleep. My mind was still fuzzy from the alcohol and it took me a minute to register that I was not alone.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Solas’ voice hit my ears and sent a jolt of alarm through my mind. I turned to watch him pace slowly around me, gaze calculated but unworried.

I felt anger wash over me, my hands clenched into fists. “You tricked Cole, You tore into my dreams.” I snarled at him. “You messed with my head!”

“My actions were ill conceived.” He admitted, remorse flickering across his features. “It brought me no joy. But I had questions that needed answers.” His voice was low, menacing.

“Then maybe you should’ve asked.” I retorted, tersely, crossing my arms and keeping a wary eye on him. I was determined not to let him get to me. Not to let him win.

“You’ve much to learn, Da’erelan.” He took careful swaggering steps around me to look out over a nearby rise; it was then that I realized my legs wouldn’t move. Panic settled into my chest like it owned the damn place. So much for not letting him get to me. “Alcohol dulls the mind, makes it much harder to defend oneself in the fade.” He peered back at me, his mouth a grim line. “On the assault at Adamant fortress it came to my attention that you have some limited foresight into the future.” My heart stuttered in my chest, blood draining from my face. “This information has left me with a great many questions.” He turned to look at me fully, eyes trained on mine, a power hidden there and a warning. He drew closer until he was looming over me. I had never felt so small before.

“Tell me, Da’erelan.” He reached to pluck at a loose curl by my face. “How far can you see.”

I was answering his question before I could think on it. “A few years. Main events mostly.” He smiled, it was a dangerous expression.

“And what have you seen?” he pressed on, voice low and rough, edged with slight hostility. I presented a problem for him now, I was a liability. I found I couldn’t lie. I felt compelled to tell the truth.

“I have seen the attempted assassination of Empress Celene. The battle in the Arbor Wilds in the halls of the temple of Mythal.” He circled me, slowly with measured steps. “Corypheus’ defeat, and-“ I paused here’s where it got a bit rocky.

He stopped behind my right shoulder. “And?”

“And the destruction of the orb.” I finished my sentence and heard him suck in a breath. When he entered my sight again his face was impassive. “Your orb.” He looked conflicted as I parted with that knowledge. “I didn’t tell anyone.” I defended myself and I saw his shoulders relax marginally.

“What else do you know?” he pried, open hostility gone but he was still guarded. he was still influencing me somehow. I grit my teeth and let the first secret I could think of slip through them.

“I know that Grand enchanter Fiona is King Alistair’s mother.” I answered, seeing a loophole in his question/compulsion game and jumping right through it like an acrobat at a three ring circus. I wanted so badly to wake up, to confront this in the waking world where he couldn’t kill me on a whim and get away with it easily. “I know that Morrigan is Flemeth’s daughter. That Flemeth hosts a piece of Mythal. I know-“

“Clever, ma halain.” He chuckled, hands gripping my shoulders gently. “Let me rephrase my question. What do you know about me?” I felt the air leave my lungs; he searched my face, his expression twisting into something bordering on remorseful. “You will come to no harm.” His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on my upper arms.

I took a deep calming breath; He asked what I knew about him, not of his plans. I would dance until he had backed me into a corner. “Fen’Harel.” I managed to say at last, meeting his eyes. His gaze was searching, not condemning. “It’s a moniker, not your name. Your enemies gave it to you and it became a badge of pride. You hate tea. You have a huge sweet tooth-” He chuckled again, cutting me off.

“You’ve made your point da’hara.” He shook his head, his hands running down my arms, releasing me from whatever spell he’d placed upon me. “I will need to be more direct in my line of questioning in the future.”  He turned his back to me, “Regretfully, it is time for you to wake up.”

I woke up in Sera’s room, curled into a ball, feeling as though someone had tried to cleave my skull in two.

Sera wasn’t helping, “Creepy song, weird Bard.” Sera was muttering, a scowl on her face as she plucked at a horribly off tune lute. I noted dimly that her name was being sung by the bard downstairs.

“Make it stop.” I whined, burying my head beneath a fancy looking pillow that had likely been stolen.

“Finally come round have you?” Sera replied, the lute hit the floor with a twang. I moaned again in pain and anguish.

“Quick, knock me back out.” I groaned. “I want to die in peace.” I swear I could hear Sera grin.

The rogue then went riffling through piles of jangly things, and exclaiming loudly while making fun of me in what I think was a good natured manner. I wasn’t much for listening or even responding. It was a while before I could extract myself from her nest of a room in search of quieter havens.

I slept through most of the day in my own room (damn the consequences), and now my sleep schedule is all fucked up.  But at least I remember most of my night, and finally met Sera. That’s a plus.

I don’t intend to seek Solas out. The encounter last night made me even angrier than I had been. The man can’t leave well enough alone.

I don’t want to give him anymore opportunities to dredge information out of me.