Chapter Text
Everything was chaos. Then darkness. Then chaos again before darkness claimed her for what Evelyn Trevelyan thought would be the last time.
It wasn't, but waking up made her really wish it had been. Her head pounded; her shoulders ached from the stiff iron shackles that made her wrists numb. Maker's breath... she mused, I'm numb in places I didn't know could become numb. The guards around her kept their swords pointed at her in silence as a strange green mark flared to life on her left hand, and Evelyn was left to pray that whatever was dripping down her back was just water.
Stars exploded behind her eyes as a woman in full armour with blazing eyes burst into her cell as if she were trying to take the wrought iron straight from its hinges.
Evelyn's head spun as the Seeker's accusations flew. She wanted nothing more than to give her answers, but the only thing her mind gave her when she cast it back to the Conclave was darkness.
As she was lead outside, it was both the mark and the sight of the Breach that brought her to her knees. Her racing thoughts, however, are what kept her there.
Everyone is dead. What if it is my fault? What if something I did tore open the sky? Why? I didn't want any of this. I just wanted peace. I wanted the world back.
The racing thoughts were only amplified by the Seeker's revelation that the mark was killing her, and the people who had chained her here wanted her help. Chains, metaphorically speaking, were nothing new to Evelyn of course, but the Templars at the Ostwick circle never even looked at her let alone asked her for help.
Silence.
Breathe, Evelyn. Like the Enchanters taught you.
The Seeker, Cassandra, was staring at her intently, awaiting her answer. As if it were that simple. That thing in the sky, the Breach, was a threat of world-ending proportions, she understood that. But all this... the Circle was no paradise, for sure, but it had been quiet. It had been safe. The war turned everything on its head. While she knew nothing would ever be normal again, all Evelyn wanted was for a reason to return to a land gripped by madness. This Conclave had been her opportunity to make her voice heard – an opportunity she'd been resigned to on being informed she'd been selected for the delegation. It wasn't necessarily her choice, but her known even temper and family name certainly played a part in the Grand Enchanters decision. Now, all of the others who had come to sort out this mess were dead. Those left were left stranded, looking for anything to cling to. A hero to save them or a villain to blame.
As her mind calmed, she saw the faces of the villagers of Haven, of Cassandra and her guards. They were worn down, desperate; it was in that desperation they chose her to blame.
"I understand," Evelyn said, steeling both her resolve and her gaze into the Seeker's eyes.
And she did. These people needed hope. It's what drove them to blame her – hope that everything could be avenged, if not put right. If she could help, if she could give these people some small hope to cling to, then she would. Even if that meant they hated her.
"Then..?" Cassandra asked hesitantly as if she weren't sure what she was hearing.
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Evelyn confirmed, watching relief flood the other woman's face.
Doing "whatever she could to help" entailed frying the demons falling out of the Breach and fielding questions from a very enthusiastic and inquisitive dwarf. The elven mage, Solas, spoke little though she sensed he knew much more about the rifts and the Fade than he initially told either her or Cassandra. There wasn't time to question him now, however. Her curiosity would have to wait until after to be sated. If there was to be an 'after' for her, that was.
The forward camp was full of activity – soldiers bustling about trying to hold everything together by mere threads. Over the din of the camp, however, two distinct voices could be heard. Evelyn glanced up slightly as she refilled her small supply of potions to see the other woman that had interrogated her, Leliana, arguing with a man in Chantry garb.
"Politics..." she grumbled under her breath, as they neared the table.
Varric looked at the silver-haired mage, a smirk crossing his lips, "Oh just wait, Evelyn. It gets better."
Evelyn sorely doubted that, given the gleam in the dwarf's eye as he said it.
Chancellor Roderick had been about as pleasant as she'd expected, but she didn't expect him to brush off the threat of the Breach so easily. She shook her head in mild disgust but walked off her head held high with her newfound companions at her back as they made for the mountain pass. The quicker they got this mess dealt with, the better. Her body still ached, fuelled only by adrenaline, and no small amount of fear. Be it fear for herself, her allies or the soldiers she sent to fight in the valley below, she didn't know. It kept Evelyn moving through the frigid mountains though, and that's what mattered.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when they found the bodies of the scouts at the exit of the old mining tunnel, barely allowing herself to hope when Cassandra said it couldn't be all of them. Too many people had died, but somehow, she trudged on. Maybe because of that. She didn't know. All Evelyn knew is that she'd seen too much fighting, too much death since reluctantly fleeing the Ostwick Circle. The joy she should have felt about finally exploring Thedas was marred by the blood, fire and destruction that the mages and templars had both wrought. Perhaps there if they were successful here, there would still be some left to explore once the blood had been washed clean.
Commander Cullen Rutherford looked up at the sky and cursed under his breath. The fighting had come to a blissful if tentative, lull as both the scouts rescued from the pass by Cassandra and her new tag-alongs and one of Leliana's scouts brought word of their advancement to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.
At least something is going our way, he mused, wiping his sword clean and readjusting the mantle of thick red fur around his shoulders.
Calling his second-in-command Rylen over to him Cullen clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm leaving this camp under your command. I'm going to take a few of the men up to the Temple. Seeker Cassandra and the prisoner have already arrived. Maker willing, this will all be put to an end today."
Rylen nodded, a quick "Yes, sir!" leaving his lips before he turned to round up a few of the soldiers who were still in fighting condition to follow the Commander.
As the small party made it to the entrance of the Temple, the sounds of fighting and the roaring of demons reached his ears. Suppressing the shudder that rippled down his spine at the all too familiar sound of a Pride demon, he urged his men forward, sword drawn. Silently he offered a prayer that trusting the prisoner had been the right choice, that he wouldn't enter the burning temple to find the bodies of his new comrades – dare he say friends? - dead on the floor. He'd done his best to channel his fear into something greater. After Kinloch that had meant protecting the world from mages. After Kirkwall, that had shifted to protecting the innocent, those that fought with him, those caught in the mess that was the crumbling control of the Chantry, the foundation of prejudice that so many, including himself, had built their lives around. Upon being called to investigate the woman that had fallen out of a rift, upon realizing she was a mage, he'd been forced to confront that again.
That's not who you are anymore, Rutherford, he told himself, taking another step towards the entrance, not the man you want to be.
The courtyard was lit by an eerie green light, and his eyes searched the open space for the Seeker and her group, but everything had gone quiet. Cassandra shouted to a silver-haired woman that could be none other than the prisoner he'd carried down this very mountain not three days ago. She held a staff in one hand, and the other bearing the mark was outstretched towards the rift. It connected, and he felt the magic explode around her, so strong that it almost made him take a step back. The woman fell to her knees, and the rift shattered.
The energy shot back up to the sky, and it was as if the Breach itself shuddered as the world took a breath. The magic was abruptly gone as if a massive Purge had been cast over them, and just as abruptly a wave of force knocked everyone back and rippled across the sky.
Cullen had a great view of the sky, laying on his back as the wind returned to his lungs. No more demons fell, and the hole, although still there, seemed calmer and more stable than before. The Commander struggled to his feet and sheathed his sword before walking over to the prone figure of the prisoner mage.
Cassandra beat him to her, however, hastily checking to see if the other woman was still alive. A soft sigh visibly relaxed her shoulders and she nodded to her other two companions that stood anxiously nearby, "She's alive, but barely. We must get her back to Haven."
Solas nodded before looking up at the sky, "I believe the Breach is stable for now. How long that will last, I cannot say without further study. But..." he paused slightly, "that can wait until Evelyn is safe. I want to ensure her mark will stabilize now as well."
Watching from a short distance away, Cullen felt that it wasn't his place to interrupt or interject. Varric made that choice for him, "You're late, Curly. Missed out on all the fun."
The Commander frowned down slightly at the dwarf; even though it seemed as if there had been no more casualties, this was far from what he would consider fun.
Seeing the look that he was getting, Varric continued, "Don't worry, your people are safe. She made sure of that."
The last words were tinged with venom to hide the worry that was clear in the dwarfs' eyes. Cullen supposed that it wasn't wholly undeserved either. He'd demanded justice just as loudly as the rest, his mistrust of mages resurfacing and colouring his words and thoughts more than it should have.
"It would seem she is good at that," he bit out.
He clenched his jaw. He wasn't a Templar anymore, and this woman had almost singlehandedly saved their lives when they'd given her every reason not to. The scouts she'd saved, the soldiers at the gates near Haven and even those at the forward camp had whispered their thanks, wondering how a person who had helped them so could be responsible for the explosion at Conclave. Meanwhile, he'd only thought of her as a prisoner. A pet project for the apostate Solas to use to close the rifts. The thought made him uncomfortable and made him approach the group more timidly than he otherwise would.
Cassandra and Leliana were discussing the best way for them to move the catatonic mage back to the camp when they finally noticed him approach. Both looked up in surprise, as Cullen simply knelt next to Evelyn's unconscious form and lifted her gingerly into his arms.
"You said there's no time to waste, right? Let's go. My men can stay here for now and then we can organize proper watches once we're back at camp."
Both women just looked at each other and shrugged slightly, following the Commander back to the entrance of the temple. The two of them walked ahead, talking quietly about what they'd seen and heard from the echoes of the Fade. Cullen, meanwhile, studied the woman who lay still motionless in his arms. If it was possible, she was even lighter than the first time he'd brought her down this godforsaken mountain. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and he only hoped she'd survive until someone could help her in Haven. The last thing he wanted was to walk into town with a corpse in his arms.