Chapter Text
His eyes were the boldest green she had ever seen in her life. Even for an elf, such a hue was impressive. That had, initially, been part of her cause for suspicion, for the green of the Fade and the green of his eyes could not possibly be only a mere coincidence. He was the lone survivor of a heart-rending catastrophe and his hand carried the source. There could be no doubt of his guilt.
But then he’d awakened, fully this time, not the half-feverish moments in between bouts of unconsciousness. Now she was looking down into those large green eyes, and all she saw was fear and confusion.
“They’re all dead?” he said in a hushed voice, afraid to speak too loudly. “Every one?”
Her jaw tightened against her sympathy. He was their only true suspect and she couldn’t let that slip away. “Explain this,” she forced out through gritted teeth, holding up the offending appendage.
His eyes grew, if possible, yet wider at the sight of his own hand. “I don’t know,” he said quickly, breathlessly. “I-I wish I did.”
He wishes he did. He’ll know the meaning of that hereafter. “Divine Justinia is dead!” she snapped, seizing him by the tunic as all of her frustration and confusion came out in the form of unbridled rage. “How did the Breach come to be? Answer!”
“Cassandra, wait,” said Leliana, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “We need him to help us.”
Cassandra looked at her companion, a woman who knew her probably better than she knew herself. She released her hold on the prisoner, taking a step back before the urge to hit him became overpowering. “There is a Rift at the Temple. Somehow, you are connected - that thing is connected - and we need you.”
The elf was still reeling, still trying to recover from the rapid bouts of panic as they came. “What-” He hesitated, afraid to ask questions now. “What is the Breach?”
This was going to be a long journey. “Leliana, go to the forward camp. I will meet you there.” As the spymaster strode from the cell, Cassandra stepped forward and pulled the prisoner to his feet. “It will be easier if I show you. Come.”
He followed dutifully, if not willingly, although he pulled back when the door opened, averting his brilliant eyes from the equally brilliant sunlight. The Seeker continued to pull him until he’d stepped free of the cell, and then she merely watched as he saw the nightmare in the sky.
And he did view it as a nightmare. His lips parted, air pushing past in a soft exhale that left his shoulders slumped. He stared, unable to even blink, eyes alight with horror and blood draining from his face. Hope seemed to leave him for a moment. If he had done this, perhaps he had not meant for things to be this way.
Even as he watched, the Breach grew and the mark on his hand flared. He shouted from both pain and surprise, falling to his knees to cradle his arms against his chest. The only question in his face was why?
“As the Breach grows, so does your mark. And it is killing you,” she said as she knelt before him, her voice far more calm than it had been only minutes ago. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”
He looked up at her, and again, she imagined she could see his thoughts in his eyes. He saw answers in her, and for a brief moment she hoped that she could give those to him. An elf who wore his heart so freely on his sleeve couldn’t possibly be so nefarious as to have attempted this, could he?
But the mark still glowed upon his hand.
“If there’s anything I can do, I will do it,” he said insistently.
Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected such immediate acquiescence. “Then you-”
“This makes it my responsibility, yes?” he said, holding up his hand, and the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“Yes.”
“It does. If I can stop more people from dying, I swear I will do everything you ask.”
She was quite plainly incredulous.
And she grew yet more incredulous the further on they traveled. He was confused and hurt when she paraded him in front of the pilgrims who’d traveled to Haven, not guilty in the least. He did as she asked and no more, speaking only when the situation demanded. So many questions were poised on his tongue, but he seemed prepared to wait until the proper time. It got to the point at which she actually felt sorry for him when he would collapse to the ground, finding herself unable to imagine what sort of pain he’d been forced to endure.
Some of that sympathy lifted at the first demon encounter.
Of course he was a mage.
“Put down the staff!” she snapped, sword at the ready.
His eyes widened and he looked at the weapon. “I - I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’ve heard that lie before,” she said, not letting her guard down even an inch.
He frowned. “Wouldn’t you think, if my intent was to hurt you, that I’d have done it by now? Mages don’t always need a staff as a channel.”
The elf made an excellent point. She let protocols fade for a moment, remembering the singularity of their situation, and sheathed her sword. “I suppose you’re right. I cannot protect you here, and we need you. Keep the staff.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, making sure to point the weapon’s head away from her.
“Let us continue, quickly.”
She recalled the contempt with which she’d first regarded him, and now she was letting him have a weapon. Throughout the rest of the journey, fighting more demons, feeling him put a barrier around her in the heat of battle, one new thought continued to resonate in Cassandra’s mind, and the more it developed, the more it began to eat at her.
She had been wrong.
And, as she watched his eyes light up when Solas showed him he could close a Rift, she knew she had been very wrong.
“Glad we got that sorted out. Thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”
Ah, there was the familiar contempt, working its way back into her chest like an old friend. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, lip curling oh so slightly.
“Slaughtering demons, your holiness, so don’t complain,” said the dwarf, adjusting his gloves casually as though not ten seconds ago he’d been standing just beneath a crack in the world, which had then been closed by a small, gangly elf.
“Who are you?” asked said elf, cocking his head curiously.
“Varric Tethras, storyteller, merchant, marksman. At your service.” He gave the elf a smile, already seeming to genuinely like what he saw. “I’m a prisoner, like you.”
“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Obviously, that is no longer necessary,” Cassandra said stiffly.
“Oh, come on, Seeker, don’t pretend I’m not at least a little useful right now.” He turned back to the prisoner. “She thinks I’m such a terrible person.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, all the same,” he said honestly.
Solas chuckled. “You might be changing your mind on that in the future.”
“Ah, Chuckles, you, too? I’m sure we’ll have some great bonding time down in the valley.” He was smiling, unphased by the insults and teasing directed at him. “So come on, Seeker, introduce us to your new kidnapee.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but a horrible realization came upon her. She hesitated, glancing at the elf, and he spoke quickly. “My name is Olwé, of clan Lavellan.”
But the damage had been done. Varric looked at her, utterly aghast. “You don’t even know his name?”
“There wasn’t exactly time,” said Olwé.
“And you’re defending her?” The dwarf couldn’t have been more surprised if another Rift opened up in his face. “Seeker, did you accidentally make friends with the convict? You know better.”
She made a noise of both disgust and impatience as she turned to Solas. “What do you make of him?” she asked, yanking the conversation back to the business at hand.
“He is a mage, but I have difficulty imagining any mage having this sort of power.” Solas looked at the prisoner, curiosity alight in his grey eyes. “He is not the source of this, though he could be the solution.”
“Did this mark… whatever it is….” Olwé looked down at his hand, brow furrowed. “Is this what started everything?”
“Possibly,” Solas said with a casual shrug. “The important thing at present is that it has the ability to close these Rifts, perhaps even the Breach itself.”
“With the sort of power it took to create it, I shudder to think how much is necessary to close it,” Cassandra said.
“Then we look to the largest Rift first. Closing that might be the key to closing the Breach as a whole.”
“So we head for the Temple,” she said with a stiff nod. “Let us meet up with Leliana at the camp, and we will proceed from there. We have little time.”
She and Solas moved off immediately, but the prisoner lingered behind. She looked back, a reprimand at her lips when the sight before her gave her pause. Varric was lingering with him, face open, curious, patiently awaiting the young elf’s words. The prisoner had as yet never looked so lonely as he did now, and Varric seemed to sense this.
“Key,” the elf murmured after a moment, green eyes fixed on the ground. “Key, everyone keeps saying key. Is the Breach supposed to be a door?”
Maker, she hadn’t really thought about that. From the way Varric’s eyes widened, neither had he. The Breach had caused an explosion at an important conclave, had allowed demons to descend upon the living. On their own, those ideas were terrible enough. It hadn’t occurred to her that someone might have been trying to get into the Fade.
“Hold on to that thought, Sunshine,” Varric said, pushing lightly on the prisoner’s arm. “We’ll put our heads together after the demons have stopped rampaging across the mountainside.”
Cassandra could live with that advice for now. One problem at a time was more than enough.