Chapter Text
It was cold.
It smelled of dank and medicine — unpleasant.
Ithurt.
Everything, everywhere; there was only pain.
She knew she was precariously close to passing back out; she could feel the hazy sensation from the back of her head try to reclaim her already heavy eyes. It would be so easy to go back to sleep; she knew she wouldn’t be cold anymore and the pain would just go awa–was she wearing manacles? Why was she being shackled, and where the hell was she–?
A flash of green flared before a whip of something akin to electricity coursed through the air and into her arm, the pain banishing the respite of sweet oblivion. It needled through her nervous system like thin branches of steel. Though it was quick to dissipate, a sting lingered in her hand like the crack of a cane against exposed flesh.
She blinked rapidly in an attempt to refocus herself; she could hear the rustle of clothes and armour all around her. So she was surrounded, and by people who did not trust her.Of course they don’t trust you; you’re chained up in a freezing, disgusting cell. You’re not exactly the Queen of Antiva, are you?Her thoughts paused as she tried to recall who she actually was, and the answer was right there; she could feel it, just barely out of reach.
The door swung open, allowing a blistering chill to sweep the room along with the entrance of two women. She heard the guards around her relax their stance as the new arrivals strode into the room. She registered that one woman was speaking to her, but she was so focused on recalling her own name that she couldn’t understand the words that were said.
“Explainthis!” the woman barked at her as she grabbed her arm, inciting the green sparks to come back to life from her palm. She may have not known or understood much at that time, but she did know that it was not there before, and every survival instinct within her body screamed at her not to lie to the woman. She would not be allowed to live to see the next five minutes, let alone another day.
“I– I can’t,” she managed to utter out, her own voice sounding foreign to her. She attempted to peer up at one of her captors, the beginnings of a sneer forming on her otherwise attractive face
“What do you mean youcan’t?” she questioned as both she and her hooded counterpart continued to circle her like animals ready to strike. Frustration was starting to bubble out of her, and she prayed to any higher power to allow her to cold-co*ck both women out with the wood from her restraints, but still, she proceeded with the only truths she knew.
“I don’t know what this is or how it got there.”
She watched as the woman’s eyes squinted before accusing her of lying and lunged at her before the other one managed to hold her back. She reasoned with “Cassandra”before swinging around to finally take a good look at the bound woman, now in a better position to properly view her face as she stared back up at her.
Impossible.
“You...,” she began as her eyes widened and the colour rushed out of her face. The prisoner fought the urge to flinch under such scrutiny; it was as if the hooded woman was trying to glean the meaning of life from her very pores. “You... How dare you!” she cried out as her features crumpled into the perfect mixture of despair and horror. “How dare you use her face,herface, in front of me!”
A wave of confusion fell about the room at the unexpected reaction.
“You foul, loathsome, unholy fiend! Take it off– take off her face at once, demon!” she demanded, one hand fisted in rage the other behind her, holding a weapon at the ready. “If you do not stop using her face, I will peel it off of you.”
The original interrogator rushed forward and forcefully wedged herself in between them with an arm outstretched to placate her while the other hovered above her sword.
“What is the meaning of this Leliana?” she asked, straightening to her full height. “What are you talking about?”
Leliana huffed indignantly as if the mere question was an affront to her. She raised both hands up to show that she was in no danger of attacking anyone, at least not quite yet.
“Thatthingis a demon; listen to me— no, stop, listen to me — they say something fell out of the sky? That she fell out of the sky? That is a demon, and we need to be rid of it before it has the chance to hurt anyone else.”
Cassandra regarded her and sighed heavily. With all that had happened to the world recently, the last thing they needed was for the Left Hand of the Divine to start seeing demons everywhere. The Seeker placed a hand on Leliana’s shoulder and squeezed firmly, hoping that it would bring her back to herself and out of whatever daze came upon her.
“Calm yourself, Leliana. Do you honestly believe if she was a demon that she would have been kept at bay by some chains? That she would not have taken the opportunity to decimate our forces at first chance?”
“You have not seen what I have seen, Cassandra,” she cautioned, her eyes still fixated on the kneeling woman.
“Perhaps I have; perhaps I have not. Either way, until she proves herself to be a demon or she has been deemed for execution by trial, she needs to live.”
Leliana remained on edge but at least realised the truth in what was said. Of course Cassandra was right, but that thing was still sitting there withherface, and it made her want to scream. She nodded tersely to signify her concession and took a step back whilst she prayed to the Maker for strength. Strength to continue on with what was needed to be done and strength to stay her hand from letting her knife fly towards the monster’s head.
“Do... Do you remember what happened then? How this all began?” she asked, just waiting for the chance to call out her lies.
The prisoner furrowed her brow, confused at the sudden change of tactic. She searched her mind, as foggy as it was, but a memory came forward of her in what could only be described as some sort of hellscape, chased by all manner of beasts from her worst nightmares. There was no end in sight until a being of light called out to her, her words too indistinct to hear, but she knew that if she could make it to her side, it would mean safety in this place.
“Things were chasing me… and then… a woman,” she sputtered, unsure if her captors would believe her, unsure if she even believed herself.
“... A woman?” Leliana probed, her curiosity needing to be sated.
“She... she reached out to me, but then- I...”
Leliana stepped forward, wanting to hear more. She needed to know whether this woman was Divine Justinia and if she had any information that could tell them about how and why the Conclave was destroyed. About why she had to die. Sensing a conversation they didn’t have time for, Cassandra moved her back towards the door and assured her that any further explanations would be done on their way. Leliana took a long look at the chained woman, furious that she had too many questions that required answers and no good place to start asking them, so she forced herself to swallow them down and willed her feet to move.
The guards followed in suit and left the two women alone. Cassandra made slow, deliberate movements to show that she was not going to hurt her but release her.
“What did happen?” the prisoner asked as she rotated her wrists once she was freed from the manacles, disappointed that she was still bound by rope. She bit back the urge to groan as she stood up, her muscles protesting at the movement after being stationary for so long.
“It would be easier if I showed you.”
She tried to take in everything the Seeker said, along with trying to process the gaping green gash across the skyline and the looming sense of dread that emanated from it. The sky flashed a bright emerald, and the spikes of pain flowed freely within her once more. The terror of being so mortally linked to something so horrible made her want to crawl back into the dungeon once more. This was too much, too soon. Who could possibly handle all this... to find a way to save the world and herself?
“... It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time,” Cassandra explained, her dark eyes focused on the pulsating mark.
There wasn’t much choice either.
“If I can help... I will.”
Cassandra cut the rope and led her through the camp. She didn’t need to be told that everyone there hated her and that they all held her responsible for the tragedy that befell them. It was evident in their stares and in all the words they didn’t say. All that was missing was some rotten food being thrown at her and them hissing as she passed. It was just another weight she carried in the palm of her hand.
“Come, it is not far.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach. We are heading into the valley.”
She tried her best to ignore the cries of the soldiers, their fears of the impending apocalypse only adding to the fear festering within her gut. She centred her vision on what was ahead, to learn whatever she could and try to bungle together a makeshift bandage to heal the haemorrhaging sky. She was about to ask for more information when another crack from the heavens had her yelping and falling to the ground, grasping uselessly at the offending hand to dull the agony.
“How did I survive the blast?” she questioned as she accepted Cassandra’s offered hand to stand up. She could see that Cassandra wasn’t sure herself, only parroting the information she was told from others who were at the scene. She stepped out of a rift? There was a woman standing behind her? Well, it lined up with what she remembered, but none of it made sense to her. Surely this was some sort of nightmare after a long night of quaffing ale; she was going to wake up somewhere in a gutter with nothing more than a hangover to worry about.
“Stay behind me!” Cassandra yelled out, rousing her from her internal reverie.
A hideous, hunched creature with spindly arms and a menacing presence manifested in front of them. She wasn’t going to argue with Cassandra; she was unarmed and her body still weak from who knows how long she was stuck in the dungeon. She was looking around to see where she could possibly hide without looking like she was trying to escape when a familiar feeling of peril sprung from underfoot. The demon, it had to be, came towards her, and she desperately searched for a rock to at least defend herself with until Cassandra was able to finish it off. Fortunately, a staff lay on the ground not too far from her reach, and she staked she could probably just smack at it from a distance long enough to survive.
Once she held the staff between her fingers, she felt a surge of adrenaline swim through her, and the almost paralysing fear she previously had was nothing but an afterthought. What a way to find out that she was the kind of person to fight and not take flight.
The demon–no, not just a demon, that’s a Shade–swiped at her, its claws dangerously close to slicing into her forearm. She raised the staff above her head and struck it on its own, then pulled it back to jab the spiked tip into its face, inciting a piercing noise of pain from the monster. Over and over she landed hits to its sides and arms, but she was doing nothing but angering the damned thing. Panic had slowly seeped back into her periphery; Cassandra was still in battle with her own demon, and she was fighting with a sword and shield; there was no way she would survive with just a glorified branch swatting at the Shade. She would have to get her companion to notice her plight and fight alongside her if she wished to preserve what she believed was the key to closing the Breach.
Taking in a quick, deep breath, she screamed out as she slammed the end of her staff into the ice, hard enough for a loud crack to sound out. However, it wasn’t the ice that made the noise; it was from the clap of thunder that came with tendrils of lightning flowing from her staff and into the demon. The smell of ozone and the presence of magic in the air was reason enough for Cassandra to take her eyes off her fight for a second, the level of shock written upon the warrior’s face mirroring her own.
The demon lurched forward, enraged from the blistering wounds on its skin, its attacks more erratic and frenzied as pain muddled its mind and body. She managed to weave and bob away from it whilst swinging the staff around— some of her movements causing blasts of energy to fly out towards the creature, and others just creating useless sparks that lit up the tip like a flickering candle. The prisoner took the staff in both of her hands and drove it into the ground again, summoning a large beam of lightning that pierced the Shade through the top of its head and found purchase one foot deep into the ice beneath it. Dead. Finally.
Cassandra won her battle and stalked towards the prisoner with her sword raised as if she had just tried to kill her instead of the demon.
“It’s over. Drop your weapon now!” She barked at her, easily forgetting that not even 10 minutes earlier she had kindly helped her stand, and now she was back to acting like she was part of the angry mob back at the village.
“Alright,” she surrendered with both arms held out to show that she meant no harm and moved to drop the staff away.
Cassandra pulled a face like she had just remembered something as she sheathed her weapon.
“Wait, I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless... I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.”
The prisoner sighed in relief, clutching the staff tightly. For the first time since coming to in that dungeon, she felt like she had a fighting chance to survive. They moved on at Cassandra’s bidding, fighting their way through rounds of demons, and just like the first fight with the Shades, the spells she naively weaved fluctuated from doing nothing to utter devastation, earning her questioning glances from the Seeker. She couldn’t help it; she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. All she knew was that she wanted to live and that this staff was helping her do it.
“We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting,” Cassandra said, her breathing laboured since their last fight when a rage demon landed a hit to her ribcage.
“Who’s fighting?”
“You’ll see soon. We must help them.”
Standing back to back were an elf and a dwarf fighting off a throng of demons; there was a small green rift in space behind them where more of the cursed beasts were fighting to get through. She did her best to keep up with the party as they cut down the demons one after another, but she barely made a dent before the team defeated them all. For the second time that day, someone she didn’t know grabbed her left arm without her permission.
“Quickly, before more come through!” he yelled as if that was explanation enough and aimed her open hand toward the rift. An odd feeling came upon her, like the rift was trying to suck in whatever was inside of her back into it to make it whole. The mark on her hand grew hot, and the seams of it felt like she was sliding down a never-ending coarse rope. When the rift had taken what it needed, the disconnection between her and the rift caused her to stumble back from the sheer force retreating back inside her hand.
“What did you do?” she asked as she looked down at her glowing appendage, thoroughly surprised that it managed to do anything other than periodically torture her.
“I did nothing; the credit is yours.”
“Well, at least this is good for something.”
She wasn’t proud to say that she had drifted out of the conversation as she took in the scene around her, doing her best to reconcile all that had transpired and the ramifications for the world if she was to fall. Would the mark leave her body? Would it pass on to someone else? Would killing her release the mark and patch the hole in the sky— and if she already had these thoughts, who else may have had them first —and who would want to test those theories?
“It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” the elf continued, seemingly unaware the woman had not heard one word he had said.
“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever,” the dwarf joked as he made his way to shake her hand. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he continued, sending a wink to the Seeker, which earned him nothing but a scowl that would cause most men’s testicl*s to retreat within themselves.
She was going to say something along the lines of ‘nice to meet you, Varric’ or ‘are you really from the Chantry with that kind of crossbow’ but Cassandra and Varric were already arguing like an old married couple. She couldn’t tell if there was some unresolved conflict between the two or if they just needed to roll around naked a little bit, or perhaps a little bit of both.
The sound of movement near her had her spin around with staff at the ready. The elf offered her a small smile as he wiped the bottoms of his feet on a patch of snow beside her that was clean of any demon remains.
“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.”
“Uh... what?-”
“He means,” Varric called over, pausing his bickering with Cassandra, which further infuriated the warrior. “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.”
“Oh... thank you... and thank you, Solas,” she said, bowing her head slightly.
“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process,” he replied, waving away her thanks. “Cassandra,” he called over to her as she continued to glower at Varric, “your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”
“Understood,” she easily accepted as she marched ahead, wordlessly ordering them to follow her.
She fell in step with Solas as they headed out toward the forward camp, the awkward elf providing her more comfort with his silence than her friendly banter with Varric, or Cassandra’s desolate stoicism. She had taken to watching him as he fought and tried to incorporate what she could as she stood by him, often catching him watching her from the corner of his eye. He was the perceptive type; of course he noticed when the other mage in the party could barely control her magic, but thankfully he remained silent on the topic.
“So, Lady Prisoner-”
“Oh, you do not need to refer to me as such; actually, I wouldpreferit if you didn’t,” she chuckled as she trudged alongside him.
“As you wish. May I confirm by which name you would prefer to be called?” Solas queried good-naturedly, one fine eyebrow raised along with the corner of his mouth. She halted mid-step at what should be a very simple answer, at least it would have been if she knew. He turned on his heel and leant against his staff, regarding her with concern. “If this is something you would rather not discuss–”
“N-no, it’s not that…”
“Do you perhaps not recall it?” he asked as he raised his hand, a thin veil of visible mana shrouding it. “Did I miss an injury to your head as you slept? Are you feeling any dizziness or pain?”
Dread. It was there festering away. You know it, you know it. You know who you are. Say it.
“... or did the guards mistreat you after I had left? I was assured that harming unconscious prisoners was not something Seeker Cassandra or Sister Leliana condoned.”
You know it.“It’s Elissa. My name. My name is Elissa,” she quickly answered, astounded at the name that spilled from her lips, a name she knew to be her own. Her heartbeat slowed as some of the fog cleared in her mind.
“I see. Elissa, Elissa of house?” he prodded further, eyes boring into her.
Elissa opened her mouth to answer but found that this time she had nothing— no miracle name to save her, no magical epiphany or memory fortuitously recalled.
“I... I don’t remember.”
“Ahh,” Solas frowned as he stood closer to her, lowering his voice to ensure the others could not hear. “Do you remember how old you are? The name of the land on which we stand? The year?” he continued, wanting to understand how deep her memory lapse went.
Elissa grimaced as she tried her best to wade through her mind for more answers about herself, but no matter how she tried it was like there was some sort of force not letting her go any further.
“I’m pretty sure this is Ferelden, perhaps near Orzammar? And I think it is 9:30? And... and I believe I’m of age... I think. I– don’t know,” she replied, her voice breaking near the end. She did her best to read his cloudy expression but found that he was well beyond her league.
“9:30?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“Yes, I don’t know how I know, but it must be 9:30.”
Solas pursed his lips as he racked through his mind for an answer but fell short. He knew that the fights ahead needed her as calm as possible, especially with her unpredictable magic, and letting her know that she was missing over 10 years of her memories would not be conducive to the composed state required.
“It is best if we cease this line of discussion. I did not mean to cause you any distress; my apologies,” he motioned for them to keep following their companions. “We will not continue at this stage, but I fear it is something that must be addressed. I do not see any physical reason as to why your memory fails you, so perhaps we can find something in your mind or spirit that stops you from knowing who you truly are.”
“You would help me with this?” she asked, touched that someone she did not know would offer such a kindness, especially during a time where something like one person’s memory meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Solas’ expression softened as he looked over to her and smiled once more.
“I got you into this by ensuring you survived; it only stands to reason that I help make that life worth living.”
Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice. Keep the sacrifice still.
Someone– help me!
What’s going on here?
Run while you can, warn them!
We have an intruder– kill her, now!
Elissa... Elissa... you’re needed, my darling.
Pup, it’s time to get up; you know we always complete our duty.
It is not fair, we know, to ask this of you again. But there is no one else; it can only be you.
The first memory she had was looking at a woman, a Mother from the Chantry?
She was held captive and crying out for help. It wasn’t long until she saw another woman come running in to assist her, but she was quickly struck down.
She walked towards her before she could stop herself and found herself standing beside her. She did not know how she got there; one minute she was watching the scene unfold from afar, and the next she wasinthe scene.
So many eyes on her from faces she could not see, a voice commanding them to kill her too... and then, nothing.
Except a voice.
A voice telling her they were sorry, and then the overwhelming urge to cry engulfed her before darkness took over.
Elissa shot up, ready to fight.
There was a giant pride demon about to trample her, and she needed to stay alive; she needed to get away.
She soon realised that she no longer lay on the ground with the rubble of the destroyed temple strewn about her, but in a wooden cabin of sorts. She could see that it was daytime and could hear that people were going about their daily lives. There was no imminent danger here – no demons, no shadows of dreams she could not understand. Just her, the walls, and a frightened elf.
... a frightened elf?
“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing; I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my Lady,” she rambled, large eyes darting back and forth from Elissa and the ground, unsure if she was allowed to look upon her. “They say... you saved us. The Breach stopped growing just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”
She did no such thing.
She remembered the fight; all she could do was stand behind Varric as she did her best to disrupt the rift and follow Solas’ barked orders about her casting to survive. She was no great warrior who charged into danger for honour and valour, she just wanted everyone to live. Elissa smiled at the servant and tried to calm her down, but only seemed to frazzle the poor thing further. Practically panicking as she told her Cassandra wished to be told the moment she woke up before racing out the door.
Elissa closed her eyes and breathed in the cool mountain air, crisp and clean. She knew she had to report to Cassandra before the brunette came looking for her upon learning she had woken, otherwise she’d ruin the chance of being trusted to walk about on her own. The last thing she wanted was to have Cassandra have to babysit her or worse, Leliana. The woman had looked at her as if she had every intention of murdering her in her sleep and then somehow finding her in the Fade to kill her again if at all possible, just to make sure she got the job done.
Unsure if she was allowed to look around the hut or not, she only touched the large bowl and pitcher of water to quickly clean the sleep from herself. She was in dire need of a toothbrush and a comb to tame her pillow mussed hair, but she wasn’t about to rifle through the owner’s things lest someone walk in and accuse her of petty theft on top of mass murder.Oh we could forgive the explosion, the thousands of people dead, killing the religious leader of your country... but borrowing little so-and-so’s brush? Stealing some paste to use with your finger like a barbarian- that’s what will tip the scales to beheading.Elissa looked at her faint reflection through the cabin’s window and resigned herself to looking like hell and breathing down wind for the rest of the day, with any luck she’d be able to pop in and out of the Chantry without having to make too much small talk.
She pulled the door open and knew the Maker was out there somewhere, laughing at her.
The Bastard.
One soldier had noticed her and saluted at her arrival, alerting what seemed to be everyone in the entire village of Haven. One by one, the citizens stopped what they were doing to stand agape at her before falling in line with the soldier to hold a fist to their heart, and fall into a respectful bow to her. Elissa could feel her heart thump heavily against her chest as it made its way up to her throat, a chill creeping against her nape that she knew was not from the frosty weather. To go from being universally hated to unequivocally adored was a little much to comprehend after just waking up.
Taking a cautious step outside of the cabin and carefully closing the door behind her, she stiffly nodded to some people and tried to say a weak hello to others but was met with only hushed whispers of, “M-My Lady” as if she was too holy to even meet eye to eye. Their reverence, their faith, their hope- evoked more fear within her than anything else had. She quickly realised that there was no way she could remain out and about in the main camp without everyone watching her every movement. The beginnings of anxiety coiled within the pit of her stomach. Elissa didn’t know why but she knew she had felt this way before, as if people would line up around her and just lie in wait to see if she would fail. Clearing her throat as she placed the merchant’s wares down-why was she even looking at a sword for- she thanked him for his time and made her way directly to the Chantry.
She thanked the Maker that the building was empty, however as she got closer to the main room she quickly understood why, three voices, only slightly muffled but still quite understandable, resounded behind the old wooden doors. Elissa could not control herself as her eyes rolled at the sound of the old man, Roger?- no Rupert, no Roderick- ofcoursehe didn’t trust them or her. Just another person in a position of power who didn’t realise the greater threat when they were literally standing right under it. Did they have time to take her to Val Royeaux when the world was falling apart and she held the only known key to help fix it? Bloody bureaucrats.
Hating the idea that they were talking about her without being able to join in on the fun, Elissa opened the door and almost cracked a smile when everyone in the room turned to her like a bunch of startled deer. She commended herself at her near seamless save of turning her guffaw-cum-cough at Cassandra dismissing the Chancellor’s order to arrest her as if he were merely a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. She half expected the Seeker to turn him about her knee and start swatting at his bum and deny him supper for misbehaving.
Foolishly deciding to join the fray, Elissa stepped into the room and peered down at the map on the table, a flash of memory, another table, another map came unbidden to her. She pushed it to the side, it was of no consequence. There were probably countless times she had seen tables with maps on them throughout her life prior to waking up in the dungeon.
“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,” Cassandra said, staring pointedly at the Chancellor.
“I did what I could,” Elissa started, feeling somewhat affronted. “I did everything I could to close the Breach; and if anyone was paying attention- it almost killed me.”
“Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned,” he retorted, insinuating something that rankled at her. She didn’t remember anything, that was fair, but she knew she wasn’t some master schemer whose life goal was to kill everyone and deface the sky.
Leliana caught her eye for the briefest of moments before squaring them off to the pebble in everyone’s shoe, Chancellor Roderick. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone the Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others- or have allies who yet live.”
The old man puffed up at the insinuation that he could have been involved and was quick to point his finger back at Elissa. “So her survival, that thing on her hand, it’s all a coincidence then?” he spat, his cheeks flushed with anger.
“Providence,” Cassandra corrected. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”
Now, she certainly did not believe that. She believed she must have gotten a great knock to the head and unfortunately woke up with a shiny, green cursed mark on her hand –probably ate something funny at a pub and instead of the runs, she got the key to all salvation –but sheknewthat playing along at that moment would truly enrage the Chancellor, and she was in no mind to pass that up.
“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide,” she recited as humbly as she could, thankful at least one thing came to mind rather than just saying ‘the Maker and me go waaaay back. He usually goes by Steve.’ Elissa turned to Cassandra, hoping that she would catch onto her plan, only to feel mildly horrified that her warrior friend was looking back at her as if she had just given her the right to proclaim her as the next Divine.
“We... we lost everything and then, out of nowhere, you came.”
Ah, sh*t.
“You do realise I am a mage?” she asked feebly in an attempt to knock some sense into the Seeker.
“I have not forgotten. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed, when we needed it.”
Ah, double sh*t.
She wasn’t quite sure what happened next, she had seen Cassandra pull out a book that looked thick enough to kill a Druffalo and thought she was about to bludgeon the man right there in the Chantry. It was probably for the best that Roderick left as it looked like all three women were entertaining the idea that they could have made his death look like an accident; that the cause of death was him running backwards, head first into the wall a dozen times or so. Stranger things had already happened, why not that.
“... We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now, no Chantry support,” Leliana huffed, motioning vaguely towards the long gone Chancellor.
“But we have no choice, we must act now,” the Seeker replied, bolstered by the belief in Elissa being Andraste-sent, “with you at our side.”
Elissa could feel her chest constrict again, the brief moment of respite she found in sassing the chancellor, slipped through her grasp and quickly replaced with apprehension. At the end of the day did she have a choice? Truly. If she didn’t help, the world would be at the mercy of the open sky and the unnamed villain still cloaked in shadow. And she’d probably be dead. Most definitely be dead. She tightened the cord at the end of her dishevelled braid as she weighed up her options and blurted the first thing that came to mind in response to their sincere faith in her and their cause.
“When I woke up, I certainly didn’t picture this outcome.’’
Instinctively, she swung her gaze towards Leliana, afraid that she had managed to offend the woman by her glibness. Surprisingly she found her expression to have tempered considerably and the dangerous edge she held in her eyes had dulled, if only by a little.
“Neither did we,” she replied simply, the beginning of a small smile softening her appearance.
Looking between the two women as if she was trying to read between some invisible lines for more clues, Elissa released the breath she didn’t know she was still holding on to.
Survive. You’re here now and you don’t know where you came from. You don’t know where you were going to. Stay and remember. Stay and fight.
With more resolution than she intended, Elissa outstretched her hand over the table, waiting for one of them to take hold. It would not be until much later that night, in the dark of her borrowed cabin; that she feared that their handshake would either save the world, or doom it.
