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“Why did the Divine think it was a good idea to hold this meeting in the Frostbacks? Most mages hate the cold, I do at the least.” The bitter thoughts ran through Corinnthea’s mind, the harsh winds whipped at the short hair of her scalp and rushed through her robes like battering rams. She would have fallen back if not for Enchanter Airtho, one of the Circle mages that Ostwick sent along with her, the elderly man was a gentle-hearted soul that knew diplomacy better than anyone in the Circle. Despite his seemingly frail age, he held Corinnthea upright as she regained her bearings, keeping a hand on his staff in case something happened. Dolin, the other mage that came with them, was indifferent to the looks of disgust from the Templars, a snort breaking his usual neutral expression. Many would think him a Tranquil, but Corinnthea and Airtho knew him well. They knew he was the best ice mage in the Circle, even better than the First Enchanter.

“I would be careful, my dear. These Templars are jumpy, and may take any misstep as a sign of demons or violence.” His wisened voice scolded the young mage as she shivered and pulled her robes closer. Wide, hazel-green eyes darted about to scan the Templars that passed them. The girl’s short, ginger hair ruffled as a chilled, gentler wind went past. The trio continued on, eventually entering the Temple of Sacred Ashes, which currently resembled a bizarre as the two sides shouted at each other publicly or gathered in clusters away from the other. Humans, Elfs, Dwarves, and a few Qunari could be seen from Corinnthea’s short height, reaching up to self-consciously rubbed at her ears when a group of elves passed.

“I still don't understand why they- why they don't see that this war is hurting everyone. People are starving, homeless, or worse, and they don't give- don’t give a nug’s left nut for it.” Corinnthea's loudly muttered comment gained some chuckles, along with many stares. The youth shrunk into Dolin’s tall shadow as she felt the eyes on her, tugging on her ears even more. The old man chuckled, an aged hand reached out to brush out the snow that had snuck its way into her hair. Dolin was their muscle, Airtho was their brains, and Corinnthea was the face of their group. Her youth brought reality to the war, on how this war wasn't just about the mages or the Templars, it was about the people it was harming and how it would affect the future.

“I know you hate it when we leave you, but there is adult talk to be held. Try to stay out of trouble, Miss Thea. We’ll be back soon.” One last pat on the head and the two men disappeared into the crowd, Corinnthea was quick to find a corner and hide in it, pulling out a book to block out the noise and petty insults.

‘The Tale of the Champion, By Varric Tethras’ The story itself was inspiring, an apostate mage from a Ferelden village called Lothering, escaping to Kirkwall and all kinds of crazy, almost too exaggerated to be true adventures. It was by far Corinnthea's favorite book, aside from a short story that the Hero of Ferelden herself wrote before disappearing. That story itself was strange to many but it fascinated the girl, the Blight was over by the time Corinnthea could remember anything, but she had heard stories about the elven circle mage who saved all of Thedas from the Blight, was present for the royal wedding of her best friend, the now King Alistair, before she disappeared without a trace.

“You seem very intent with that book, my dear. What are you reading?” The kind voice startled Corinnthea, her book slamming shut with her finger between the pages to mark her spot. An elderly woman with wispy grey hair smiled at her, Chantry rodes donning her aged person with a tall hat that seemed very heavy. Corinnthea recognized her as the Divine Justinia, but couldn't bring herself to react. She stumbled over her words as she always had since the Harrowing, grabbing at the scarred edges of her left ear.

“Uh-um. Oh! The book- the book is called ‘The Tale of the Champion, By Varric Tethras’. I brought with me while my fellow- my fellow mages attended the- the meeting. I'm not old enough to attend with them, but they- but they didn't want me to be alone in the village.” Corinnthea pulled an old piece of parchment out of her pocket to mark the page she was on, a little peeved that she was interrupted when Fenris and the Champion had finally professed their love for each other and Varric was giving them shit about waiting for so long.

“You're a mage? You are very young be of such high rank to be here, my dear. How many springs have you seen?” Corinnthea had to count in her head to be sure, but only twelve springs did seem very young, even to her. The shock of the Divine’s face to her answer scared the youth a bit, would she throw her out? Send her the village alone?

“Despite your youth, you seem more mature than most of the men and women here. What is your name, my child?” Corinnthea dreaded giving her name, her nobility evoked unwanted sympathy, attention, and other bull the young mage didn't want to deal with. Even her teachers refused to teach her certain fields of magic because of her bloodline! As far as she knows, Corinnthea was the youngest of seven children, her oldest brother already had an heir and more on the way.

“Corinnthea- Corinnthea Trevelyan, Most Holy. If I- if I may ask, why come speak to a- to a lonely mage? One that is- is not only foreign to this land but also foreign in opinion it seems.” The Divine quirked an eyebrow at the statement, asking what the mage’s origins were and her opinion was on the war. The sudden burst of confidence unexpected for both women, the stutter gone temporarily.

“I know we like to think the Tevinter are all blood mages and savages, but taking a simple leaf off of their tree could end the war entirely. Give them rights, give them freedom, and why the hell not? Give the Elvish and the Tal-Vashoth the same thing? If we- if we’re all the same in the eyes of the gods, why give anyone the- the right to say who’s better?” Corinnthea bit her tongue, but her words had already left her mouth. Justinia’s face broke into an amused smile then raised her hand to stifle her laugh, Corinnthea awkwardly smiling with her as some Templars’ eyes shifted in their direction.

“If only the others could see reason as you do, Corinnthea. I hope you stay as strong-willed as you are now, we women need that kind of strength to get anywhere in our lives. Now as much as I would love to stay and continue, I believe it is time. Do look around the temple, its history is rich.” Divine Justinia smiled and left as everyone began to gather in the inner chambers of the temple, where the meeting would begin. Corinnthea let out a shaky breath as the doors closed, her nerves frayed from realizing she swore in front of the Divine. She gathered herself up and set off to find a bench to continue her reading, wanting to get back to Varric’s snark about Fenris’s broody-self.

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Running, that's where Corinnthea’s memory picked up from. Scrambling to get away from the monstrously large creatures scattering behind her as a glowing woman held her hand out for the youth to grab. A bright flash blinded Corinnthea briefly as she fell to her hands and knees, vision clearing but blurring just as fast as three pairs of feet drew closer. Then darkness again.

~~

“Cassandra, you can't truly believe that this little girl killed the Most Holy? She's hardly of the age to be away from her parents!” An Orlesian accented voice argued, muffled by the heavy door in front of Corinnthea, her mind and vision muddled by fatigue and dulled pain from her head and hand. A flash of light accompanied by a sharp pain opened the youth’s eyes was a hiss, clenching the hand tightly, willing the pain away.

“I can’t take any chances Leliana, you know that.” The strange accent caught Corinnthea off guard as the door in front of her flew open, the torches flickering as a tall, dark-haired woman marched around her, fierce eyes and the large scar on her cheek shook the young mage to her core. Eyes wide and fearful, Corinnthea glanced at the woman that slinked inside, fiery red hair covered by a dark hood with a presence of mystery, and the worried furrow of the woman's brow didn't comfort her at all.

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you!” The woman’s voice echoed in the stone room, coming back as a roar in Corinnthea's ears. She shrunk down, staring at the floor before her mind strung together what the woman said. Everyone is dead? Airtho and Dolin were dead?

“What do you mean everyone is dead? Enchanter Airtho and Dolin can't be- can’t be dead!” The woman stormed to her and grabbed Corinnthea’s shackled hand lifting it up as the metal dug into her skin, the green flash lit up the room. The woman’s harsh glare brought unnecessary tears to the youth’s eyes, falling as she blinked them away. “Explain this then!” She demanded. The youth realized her gloves were missing and the panic spread further into her mind as the pale markings peaked out from her sleeve.

“I can't, I don't- I don’t remember!” The woman grabbed the front of Corinnthea's shirt, lifting the girl to her feet with rage clear on her face. She was desperate for answers, but the young Mage only gave her more questions. The red-headed woman, Leliana pulled the woman’s grip away from the girl, the youth fell to her knees on the stone floor in shock.

“We need her Cassandra! She may be our only hope, as much as we don't want it to be.” She muttered the last bit, eyeing the child on the ground unable to wipe away her tears because of the shackles. The seed of guilt spreading as Leliana knelt down at the girl’s side, whipping away the tears for her as the youth took some deep breaths, using what limited movement of her hands to tug the sleeves over her hands.

“Do you remember what happened? Before or after the explosion?” At this distance, Leliana could see every color in Corinnthea's eyes, with the firelight giving the illusion that they glowed slightly. Fear, pain and a well-hidden emotion that the Nightingale couldn't determine for herself showed as the youth seemed to do the same, reading her eyes and face.

“I… I remember running. Things were- were chasing me, and then a woman! She held her hand-her hand out to me, but then…” Corinnthea grimaced as her memory suddenly went blank, her memory was better than most but why couldn't she remember anything else from the Conclave?

“A woman?” Leliana questioned, stopping at Cassandra’s side with her arms crossed. “Our soldiers said that a woman was behind you when you fell out of the rift. No one knew who she was.” The warrior at least sounded calmer to the mage, though the scowl still had her avoiding eye contact.

“Head to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Breach.” With one last look at the girl, Leliana nodded and left while Cassandra pulled out a key and freed Corinnthea from the metal bindings only to replace them with rough rope. The young girl winched at the material wearing into her skin, tucking her hands away once the bindings were in place.

“What did happen?” The youth asked honestly as Cassandra lifted her to her feet. Cassandra squashed down the concern over the girl’s weight, but the child was probably 120 pounds soaking wet. “It will be easier to show you,” the Seeker winced at the heavy tone in her voice, leading the girl outside.

“We call it the Breach, it is…” Cassandra’s voice faded as Corinnthea’s attention directed to the massive green hole in the sky, lightning, and balls of fire rained down from it. The mark in her hand pulsed in time with the breach, painful but progressively getting more tolerable. The youth spoke too soon and the Breach and the mark erupted, pain shooting up her arm, causing her to fall into the snow with a sharp gasp. Cassandra was at her side immediately, pulling her back onto her feet.

“Each time the Breach grows, your mark does as well, and it is killing you.” Time seemed to freeze as the words sank into Corinnthea's mind. She didn't want anyone else to die and she definitely didn't want to die either, not before she completes her goal.

“I'll do whatever I can to stop this, I want to help!” Cassandra gave a half smile before leading the young mage through the town, many of the townsfolk glaring at the little girl, some looked in sympathy, others in disbelief. Using her sleeve, Corinnthea wiped away the remaining tears that were threatening to freeze her eyes shut. Shivering as the cold wind nipped and howled at her ears, she reached up to tug at the scarred flesh.

“The people of Haven have decided your guilt, they need it. Divine Justinia…” Cassandra explained why the whole Conclave was put into place and why the war was now worse with the deaths that happened. She cut the ropes that bound the child’s wrists as they exited the village gates. The two ran past soldiers, injured, dead, or panicking, coming up a curve when the Breach erupted again, Corinnthea falling to her knees with pain. Cassandra was gentler with hoisting the youth to her feet, sympathy and doubt clouded her very being as they came to a bridge.

CRACK!

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“Stay behind me, Child!” The warrior was up within seconds as a second fiery meteor struck the ground, a demon rose from the smoke. Cassandra charged forward as Corinnthea scrambled to regain her bearings, a second shade demon rising a few feet away.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I need a staff, I need a staff!” Almost as if the gods answered her plea, she turned and spotted a basic staff amongst the rubble. Picking it up, the youth spun and launched a volley of ice magic at the demon to fend it off. Ice magic wasn't her forte but Corinnthea didn't have any other option, but that didn't stop her thoughts wishing for her old staff back. Fire and storm magic was her niche, the practices came to her naturally, like breathing.

Slamming her staff into the ice, lightning shot from the sky, striking both the shades and bringing their existence to an end. Corinnthea gasped to catch her breath as she caught up with the Seeker, who raised her sword once she saw the staff.

“Drop your weapon, now!” The staff clattered to the ground as Corinnthea apologized, hands tucked into her chest as if the Seeker was going to cut them off. Cassandra sighed, picked up the staff, and pried away the girl’s hand to give it. Resting her hand on the youth’s shoulder, she gave a reassuring squeeze, willing herself to not seem so intimidating. The girl flinched involuntarily at the contact, unable to hide the reaction from the Seeker.

“You don't need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you, and you shouldn't be defenseless. I should remember you wanted to help.” The brief smile she gave seemed to brighten the youth's mood a bit, for just that, the Seeker felt thankful. Taking the lead again but keeping the girl closer to her person, the two encountered more demons, eventually climbing snow-covered stairs where fighting could be heard.

“We’re getting closer, you can hear the fighting!” Cassandra shouted as the sound of battle reached their ears. “Who’s fighting?” Corinnthea asked, the Seeker’s vague answer didn’t help with her nerves, fearing that it would be some Templars that would act like she was a constant threat to them, or mages that knew who she was and would baby her. Making it over the crest of the hill, Cassandra rushed into the battle, a few soldiers were there and two odd ones that stuck out of the bunch. A tall, bald-headed elven mage, if the ears didn’t make him stick out enough, and a blonde, beardless dwarf with a wicked crossbow. Corinnthea called down lightening and swung with the weak blade of the staff, striking down the demons. Once they were dispatched, the young girl approached the small rip in the veil when a hand seized her wrist and lifted her by her belt to the tear. The mark burned and crackled to life with the movement.

“Quickly, before more come through!” The shock almost drowned out the elf’s voice, her hand shaking as, like a ripped hole being stitched, the rift closed with a burst of light. The male mage set Corinnthea back on her feet, keeping a hand on her shoulder to stabilize her, then knelt down to examine the fading light of the mark. The girl resisted the urge to cower away from the contact, but still tugged her sleeve over the back of her hand, the mark glowed as her scars did.

“What did you do?” She asked, her own curiosity peaked as his hands glowed a light blue, a healing spell, she recognized as the sting of the mark vanished. He gave a small, kind smile as he stood up, towering over the young mage. “I did nothing, the credit is yours. Whatever magic open the breach also left that mark on your hand.” Corinnthea winced as she flexed the hand, shaking it out as she pointed the credit the gods’-be-damned thing. Cassandra questioned if it could also close the Breach, the Elf’s answer was somewhat reassuring.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation, a heavy burden to bear for someone so young.” What seemed like guilt, showed in his presence, though his face remained neutral. His eyes trained on the young mage as she opened her mouth to ask questions when the dwarf piped up, almost forgotten by the youth in the heat of battle.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The dwarf’s ragged voice startled the girl, she whipped around to have her widen as she recognized who he was. Willing herself to not freak out as one of her favorite authors approached, though unable to not question how in the world he wasn’t freezing with his shirt open like it was.

“Varric Tethras, rouge, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag along.” He winked at the Seeker who scoffed in disgust while Corinnthea resisted the urge to ask him about his books but to squeak out a reply.

“It’s a-it's a pleasure to meet you, Varric.” The elf chuckled, trying to cover it with his hand. “You may reconsider that stance in time, child.” He said, the smile lingering in voice while mirth tangled itself into his strangely calm urgency.

“Aw, I'm sure we’ll become good friends in the valley, Chuckles.” Cassandra clicked her tongue and began to argue with Varric, reminding the youth of a couple back in the Circle that argued all the time.

“Have you seen the valley, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore, you need me.” He gave a smug look at the Seeker, who gave a disgusted noise and stalked ahead, leaving the dwarf and the young Mage to hide their amusement.

“I am Solas if introductions are being made. I’m grateful to see you still live.” Corinnthea got her answers as to why he knew so much, Solas was an apostate like Dolin had been before he came to the Circle. Solas was an ice mage as well, which further put a dour point to Corinnthea’s mood as Dolin and Enchanter Airtho were most likely killed in the explosion. Even though she wanted to believe that they survived somehow, in her heart she knew they were gone.

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“Use the mark to disrupt the rift!” Having reached the top of the snow-covered stairs to the forward camp, the group came to another rift. The Seeker charged into the fray with Varric and the mages covering her, Corinnthea flanked the main group while shocking the stragglers, raising her hand to the rift as the energy connected the rift to her hand. The pain was more tolerable than the last but still sent a shockwave of pain through the youth’s system. Swinging her hand back, the rift closed sending her onto her knees as the adrenaline faded. Solas and Cassandra were the first to her sides, getting her onto her feet and through the gates.

“Whatever that mark is, kid, it’s useful, you alright?” She managed a nod as her throat felt dry and sore, nobody was convinced as Solas had her grind her teeth on some elfroot. The bitter flavor was disgusting but the soreness left as they approached a table that Leliana and a man in Chantry rodes argued at. Out of instinct, Corinnthea hid partially behind the closest person to her which happen to be Solas, who glanced down at her sudden change in personality with concern but allowed her to grip at his robes.

“By order of the Chantry, I want her arrested and sent to Val Royeaux for execution.” His voice wasn’t pleasant nor what he said sat well with the young mage, the three adults she traveled with and Leliana stepped up to her defense, Corinnthea was pulled out of his view when the mark flared again. The shock of the mark had dulled since she had woken up, though the pain almost had her on her knees again, gritting her teeth as she focused a minor healing spell over the mark. Varric kept a hand on her shoulder to keep her grounded as Cassandra and Leliana tried to prove which route was best suited to get to the temple. The dwarf noticing the girl’s aversion to physical contact as she shrank away from his hand, moving it the crown of her head and ruffled the snow-speckled hair, earning a small smile in return.

“Which path do you think is better, Child?” Cassandra asked, gaining raised eyebrows from everyone, questioning her sanity to ask the child to make the choice. “Why make me choose? I have no experience with these kinds of things.” Corinnthea admitted, trying to weasel her way to not make the choice that could end the lives of others. She could tell Cassandra didn’t like her answer and the Seeker explained that she had the mark and that she was the only one who could close potentially close the rift. Thinking that she’ll meet Templars if they charge directly it had her shivering more in fear then the freezing cold. Her hand went to her left ear as she pointed to the mountain, rubbing at the rough edges of the chilled flesh.

“Take the mountain path, the scouts could still be alive. We have to work together.” Cassandra sighed, having Leliana gather everyone in the valley as Varric pointed out the route to Corinnthea. The demons were, if anything, annoying to the group, slowing them down as the wraiths’ distant attacks kept the little bastards out of range for the young mage’s lightning attack. Finding some discarded materials, coins, and even a dagger that Cassandra pulled out of Corinnthea’s hand when she showed her findings to the group.

Rushing outside, the group skidded to a halt as the bodies laid outside the entrance, Solas and Cassandra grabbing the youth by her collar and shielding her eyes. It did little as she had already locked eyes with one of the bodies, the horror permanently set in their eyes drove terror into her heart. Willing her stomach to steel itself, she gripped the front of Solas’s tunic and breathed to calm her heart.

“Guess we found the soldiers. Shit.” Varric grimaced, using what height he had to block some of the carnage as they passed. Cassandra kept the young mage’s eyes forward as they continued, only glancing at the strangeness of her ears and taking note of them.

“That can't be all of them.” Disbelief and hope in her tone as she kept a hand against the back of Corinnthea’s head, running her nails through the stubbly hair. Solas was going to bite back with the Breach being of importance but revised his words to not discourage the child that clung to his side like a lifeline.

“The Breach is the top priority, but if we come along the remaining scout party, we’ll help them.” He felt the vice grip on his tunic loosen as the quartet progressed, the sound of fighting rose as they descended the snowy steps. Once the rift was in view, Solas casted a shield over the party and rushed forward with the Seeker, stopping short to bring sharp chunks of ice from under the creatures. Corinnthea and Varric hung back before the mages switched places as the rift was weakened, the youth calling down lightning to strike any stragglers.

“Lieutenant! You're alive!” Cassandra was relieved, “Just barely!” The scout leader shouted over the battle, the second wave of demon spilling forth. A terror bursting out of the ground by Corinnthea’s feet, her companions charging into pull her out of the demon’s way, only to witness the young mage roll back onto her hands and push herself into a half flip back. The girl’s staff was still on the ground, but with a wave of her hands, lightning shot down and turned the demon into dust. Scooping her staff out of the snow, Corinnthea reached out and sealed the rift with more ease, the pain bearable now.

“Sealed as before, you are becoming quite proficient at this.” Guilt still flashed in his eyes despite the neutral expression, the smile more sad than hopeful. The youth couldn't decipher why he felt that way, but the feeling of relief washing over the remaining scouts, the Seeker, and Varric almost concealed Solas’s emotions.

“Thank you for coming when you did, I don't if we could have lasted much longer.” One of the scouts had fallen with an open wound on their leg, Corinnthea at their side with a healing spell ready as another scout pulled some bandages out of their pack.

“Thank our prisoner, she insisted that we come this way.” Cassandra’s mention brought the youth’s attention as she and the other scout slowly brought the injured one to his feet, a third one taking her place.

“It was worth trying to save you.” She bowed her head, trying to seem smaller instinctively, the gratitude from the scouts was foreign to her. Usually suspicion, hatred, or fear came with non-mages finding out that not all of her people were horrible outside their circles. After seeing them off and moving forward, Corinnthea had Varric rolling as she declared ladders an abomination of the gods when she managed to reach the ground after slipping onto her rear. Solas and the dwarf discussed how the Breach may have occurred when the quartet came to the ruins of the temple, the smell of burning flesh and death permitting the air.

“Don’t look, kid, we don’t want you to get sick” The youth nodded as she pulled her scarf over her nose, keeping her eyes to the ground as the three guided her past. Her shaking hands gripping Solas and Cassandra’s sleeves while Varric took the front, the edges of her vision blocked by their bodies, but she still caught the sight of a few petrified corpses, her breath hitching as an open-mouthed skull crested her field of view. Looking up finally, the sight of the Breach was both awe-striking and terrifying at once, the sound of soldiers approaching drew her attention away as Leliana rounded the corner, relief on her face as she saw Corinnthea alive and whole, that same relief coming from Cassandra about the red-headed woman.

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“You’re here! Thank the Maker.” Leliana brushed away some smudged ash on the youth’s cheek before she could stop herself, quickly stepping back to order the soldiers into position as Cassandra and Solas stood to give Corinnthea a pep talk before they descended.

“This is your chance to stop the Breach, are you ready?” The young mage stuttered incoherently, her nerves and dread overcoming the secure and calm attitudes that the adults around her gave, her chest tightening as she curled into herself. Tears cleaning a path down her soot and dirt-smudged cheeks, her shoulders shaking as a small sob escaped her lips. Solas drew her into his arms, brushing away the tears as he spoke quiet elvish to her, even if she didn’t know exactly what he was saying, his calm presence overpowered the rampant thoughts that plagued the girl’s mind. He didn’t know if she would make it, but he hoped for a better outcome than what darkness toyed with the fledgling’s mind.

“We will watch out for you, da’len.” The term was familiar to Corinnthea, some of the diplomatic mages learn elvish to communicate with the Dalish that passed through the Circle’s lands on occasion. Eventually, Solas let her go and they began their descent, voices, echoes of the Fade resounded through the destroyed temple. Large, glowing red crystals grew out of the ground, dread and fear radiating from the dwarf as he pulled the youth away from the larger structures.

“It's red lyrium, kid. It's dangerous, don't touch it.” The usually snarky and jovial dwarf’s wariness had her on edge, jumping at the sound of her own voice as they reached the bottom.

“What's going on here? Most Holy!”

“Run while you can! Warn them, Child!”

The echo faded, Cassandra and Solas talked over each other as the Seeker asked Corinnthea about what happened while Solas explained the rift’s condition. The soldiers were moved into position as the youth mentally prepared herself to open the rift, her companions at the ready beside her.

~~

The only way Corinnthea could describe fighting the pride demon was frustrating, terrifyingly awesome, and nerve-racking. She had to disrupt the rift to strip away its defenses and on occasion, other lesser demon would pop out and attack. Varric stayed at her side the whole time, even when the creature went down and Cassandra stuck her sword straight through its skull.

“Seal it! Now!” As she reached up, the young mage felt like her very essence was being sucked out of her. With a burst of light, she disconnected her hold from the Breach and collapsed, darkness overtaking her quickly. Voices gathered around her, waves of fear and sorrow hitting before a numbness took over.

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“Its...its warm. Am I dead?” Corinnthea managed to squint her eyes open as she shuffled up onto her elbows, a squeak and the shattering of glass shot her into a sitting position, eyes wide as her focus came to a brunette elvish girl.

“I-I didn't know you were awake, I swear!” The young mage managed to calm her down, learning that she was not dead but back in Haven, had been unconscious for three days, the Breach was still in the sky, and that Cassandra was waiting for her in the Chantry.

As the elf scurried out the door, the youth caught a glimpse of a large crowd outside the cabin. Taking slow, deep breaths, she stepped out. Keeping her eyes forward and a hand over her left ear, she caught fragments of whispers, calling her ‘The Herald of Andraste’. She herself wasn't huge with her faith, the Chantry sisters and the Templars in the Circle annoyed her enough with it. Once she reached the Chantry, she could hear the Chancellor and Cassandra arguing through the door, the crude man still believing a child would put the world through such devastation.

“Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” She froze but Cassandra’s order soothed some of her fears as the guards left the room. The Chancellor, Cassandra, and Leliana seemed to growl at each other in the youth’s eyes. The two women winning the battle, thankfully.

”So this whole thing, the mark on her hand? All a coincidence?” The Chancellor sneered, glaring at the young mage as the Seeker stepped into his space.“Providence, actually. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” Confusing the man and the child.

“You really believe the Maker would send a child to help you?” Cassandra stepped away as Leliana and the Chancellor spoke more civil but still angry when the Seeker slammed a heavy book on the table, the girl jumping at the sudden noise. Cassandra spoke of an Inquisition of old which piqued the youth’s interest, even as the Chancellor stormed out of the room.

“We need you at our side, Child. Without you, there is no reason for the reformation.” Cassandra held out her hand, Corinnthea met eyes with her in a burst of confidence. “My name is Corinnthea Trevelyan, Seeker Cassandra. When I- when I said I wanted to help, I meant it.” The two women smiled as the youth shook the Seeker’s hand. Over the next few days, people would come into Haven to volunteer in the army while Corinnthea was taken under Solas’s wing to learn what he knew about the Fade. Varric eventually pulling the young mage off to the side next to a fire.

“So, now that we’re out of earshot of the Seeker, are you holding up okay? You go from being the most wanted person in Thedas to leading an army of the faithful. I'm surprised you haven't shut yourself in one of the cells.” Concern and curiosity were written in the dwarf’s face, though the young mage lightened the mood somewhat, the Seeker returned the items they had confiscated from her person when she was found. Her books still intact and her gloves secured onto her hands, Corinnthea’s confidence had risen.

~~

“Does it trouble you, Corinnthea?” Cassandra asked as the two walked in the maon of the Chantry, watching the youth with careful eyes. “It doesn't hurt anyone, and it stopped spreading.” The Seeker couldn't help but smile at the child’s new demeanor, she could easily remember the brightness that filled the girl’s face when she handed her the gloves. The Seeker didn't want to pry as how such mundane gloves were so important but was content to see her happy. Bringing her inside the war room, she watched as that positive outlook change as the Commander and the Ambassador shifted uncomfortably, the young mage looking to her for answers. A gloved hand going for her left ear again, a nervous trick, Cassandra realized.

“This is Commander Cullen, head of our forces, and this is Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” The two offered kind smiles though the youth understood their concern over her person. The Antivan woman looked over her with an attentive eye and a tinge of surprise in her spirit, while the Commander had sympathy and guilt reigning over him like a rain cloud. Corinnthea nodded to Leliana, happy for a somewhat familiar face even if the Left Hand was terrifying in her mind.

“To increase the power of the mark, we’ll need to approach the rebel mages for help.” The Sister started, Cullen immediately stepping out to counter her. “I still think the templars will serve just as well. I was once a Templar, I know what we are capable of.” Leliana, who had been observing the Herald, watched as the girl’s posture went rigid when Cullen admitted his past vocation. Predicting that the girl would approach the mages over those who terrified her in the past. The girl’s shoulders hunched up as Corinnthea tugged at her gloves and pulled her marred ears.

“We’ll head to the- to the Hinterlands tomorrow morn. I’ll inform Varric and Solas of the news, thank- thank you.” Corinnthea's voice was steady despite the tense posture she held, Leliana was reminded of an old friend, who hated her position of authority but took in stride, saving Ferelden at the end of it.

Chapter Text

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service I-we are glad you're here.” The red-headed dwarf woman bowed her head at the group. Varric attempted to break the ice with a poor joke. “Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” Corinnthea resisted the urge to snort at Varric’s attempt, much to Cassandra and Solas’s distaste. A smile breaking through, nonetheless.

The group wasted no time getting to the Cross Roads, templars and apostates attacking the refugees while trying to kill each other. Corinnthea had opted to stay in the sidelines, providing cover and protection to her team and the inquisition soldiers. The adrenaline rushing through her allowed for her to brush off the archer that insisted on turning her into a pincushion and decimated them. After the battle, Mother Giselle offered her wisdom, encouraging the youth to do what she could for the people and the Inquisition. The woman didn’t even mention her ears, nobody did.

Over the next several days, the quartet sealed rifts, helped the people of the Cross Roads, gained agents, and convinced horse master Dennet to go to Haven. Even with the few bumps they had as a party, they cleared out any business in the Hinterlands, except the dragon. Fuck the dragon.

“We'll be burnt and- and be crushed into paste if we face it now! Maybe after we go to- to Val Royeaux and save the missing soldiers from the- the Fallow Mire, we will- we can come back to it.” She reasoned with Cassandra, the underlying excitement from the Seeker was strange to the youth, it was a three-to-one vote as Solas and Varric were a bit worse for wear than the stone defense that kept some of the worst injuries off of the warrior.

Corinnthea still favored the dislocated wrist from a Templar running her over like a battering ram to a rotten wood door, the fight she gave to the Seeker was remarkable as the woman was insistent to see the damage before they got to camp. She refused to take off her gloves until the healers in the camp crowded her away from Cassandra, the tension between the two only lasted a day as one of the creatures that the rifts shat out tore through the warrior’s defenses, a shield of arcane energy taking the next few attacks. Cassandra went to thank Solas when he said that he was protecting the dwarf the whole battle, the women apologized and went on their way.

~~

“My uncle told me about some of his- of his trips to Val Royeaux, he was right about this place is like a peacock. Over-the-top and pomp- I mean pious, that if you’re not- not local nobility, you’re nothing here, or feared by the Chantry.” The wisdom showed as a couple running at the sight of the quartet, the curiosity of exactly who her uncle was rising as on their way to the city she spoke of him highly, being the only contact outside the tower to her family. He wasn’t a mage, but have strong ties to the circles of the Free Marches, what was left of them at least.

The scout had warned them of the Templars that waited for them, stacking the shitshow was to ensure on top of Corinnthea’s already frayed nerves. The crowd that gathered didn’t help either, but it angered the young mage as a revered mother stood and pointed blame at her, like so many Templars, Chantry members, and fellow mages before her.

”I- I only want to fix this mess, I don’t claim to be your god’s Herald!” Corinnthea tried to reason with the Mother before the Templars approached. Something was off about them, that much the youth could tell as the man that lead them stepped onto the stage with violence bled off of him.

Lord Seeker Lucius's little display brought confusion to the matter, especially to Cassandra, though the young mage suspected that the Templars were going to do something foolish. This disappointed her almost, striking the revered mother and denouncing the city unworthy of their protection before walking out with the confidence of a peacock or some lord who thought they could get away with anything. Corinnthea's harsh glare directed at the retreating figures as the crowd dispersed, tugging hard on her gloves.

"I think it's disappointing that the- that the people of Thedas are willing to believe- to believe that a child brought this madness to- to the world. You would think they would’ve- would’ve learned from the Hero of Ferelden, or the Champion of Kirkwall. Warden Surana was- was only 16 when she defeated the Archdemon, and Hawke was- Hawke was 17 when Lothering was hit by the Darkspawn." An arrow struck the ground near her feet, Cassandra moved in front of Corinnthea within seconds, her shield up and her sword drawn. The young mage flinched from all the sudden movement but felt no sudden danger, just the alertness of the adults around her and an inkling of mischief that was retreating away.

"There's a message attached to it. The Friends of Red Jenny, they want to help us?" The letter spoke of red handkerchiefs in certain areas, something the girl would keep an eye out for. The messenger from the Orlesian First Enchanter excited her, hoping that the mage was similar to her own First Enchanter back in the Ostwick Circle.

Lady Anavile was strict but also cared for her people, sending several letters to Corinnthea's advisors asking of her condition and the overall safety the Inquisition could give the young mage. She also scolded them for putting so much pressure on her, writing that First Valser would be there to discuss trade and bring gifts from the few friends the girl had in the Circle. When hearing the letters from Josephine, she was in near tears but the excitement of Valser’s arrival after their return overcame it. The elven Mage was one of her tutors, despite their ages being closer than most of the other Circle mages. Valser would be a familiar face that Corinnthea would greatly accept.

"Let's- let’s speak with these people, then peruse the shops maybe. Uncle said that the- that the markets here are expensive but worth the extra coin." Corinnthea suggested, Varric's question expected to her, "And who exactly is your uncle, kiddo?"

"He's known for-known more formally as 'Lord Arran Trevelyan of the Ostwick Council'. Though he has ties to many- many nobles throughout Thedas." The dwarf raised an eyebrow, the name struck a bell in his list of contacts. The nobleman owned several harbors that he used for shipments, the name somehow never clicked to this young mage and one of his providers being related.

On their way to meet the Friends of Red Jenny and the Madame De Fer, First Enchanter Fiona, the leader of the rebel mages approached the four. She invited them to meet her in Redcliffe, where they been denied entrance beforehand and left to inform her people. Her sudden approach made the other suspicious, but Corinnthea seemed relieved on the matter, the Templars struck fear into the girl's being. She had never met First Enchanter Fiona but had heard some of the rumors surrounding the elven mage, some that involved the current king of Ferelden.

Sera, oddly enough, was a breath of fresh air to Corinnthea. Her blunt, vulgar, and 'zeros-shites-be-given' personality made the youth feel like her own age as the two giggled at the Elf's phallic jokes and quips at random passersby. Cassandra and Solas both silently fuming and sighing in relief at the interacting pair. The tension of the trip had melted off the Herald's shoulders as she snickered and schemed with the unruly elf, her smile enough to stead their wrath against Sera's antics.

”I like you, even if you are a mage and talk all funny. You think of the little people, that’ll keep your breeches where they are.” Sera watched the young mage smile and tug at her ears, not how the elf saw other people tug on theirs. Corinnthea pulled at the tops of her ears, not the lobes like other people.

Madame Vivienne was the complete opposite of the impulsive rogue, fretting over the young mage once they pulled away from the party. As much as Corinnthea missed being fretted over by her own superiors in the Ostwick circle, Vivienne reminded her of the stories her uncle to his former wife. Strong-will and set in her ways, never taking ’No’ for an answer.

~~

"Don't wander too far, Lady Trevelyan. We won’t take long." Cassandra's order was immediately sided by Solas and Vivienne, both who seemed at odds with agreeing with each other. Sera had rushed off to Haven, Vivienne was traveling along with the three for sake of convenience and to make sure they got the best supplies before they left. The dwarf and the child side-eyed each other as a group of kids raced by, kicking up dust as they kicked a ball around. While the warrior and adult mages spoke of mundane, adult things, Corinnthea discreetly shrugged off her coat and handed her staff to Varric before slipping away from the group with such grace that the rogue was proud of.

"Do you need an- an extra player?” The attention of the thirteen odd kids had the young Mage regretting her rash decision, the oldest of the group squaring his shoulders to size her up. A layer of dust coated his coarse black hair and dark skin, suspicion and an inkling of fear radiated from the group, the few girls’ countering emotions of excitement and wonder as Corinnthea stood her ground.

”Not from around here, yeah? What's your name and where you from?” His own accent wasn't Orlesian, almost reminiscent of Sera’s. A shorter elven boy with pale grey eyes whispered in the boy’s ear as one of the girls pushed through the crowd to her side. Gracious golden curls pulled into a loose ponytail bounced as the girl’s shining hazel eyes caught Corinnthea’s immediate attention, the frantic beating of her heart slowed as time seem to. A kind smile with the roundest, softest looking cheeks the young mage has witnessed, she didn’t know if it was the sun or her emotions that brought such heat to her own freckled cheeks. Her hand coming up to cover her ear as she recognized the girl’s style of dress.

”Ghita, youngest of the House de Calco. I hail from the Starkhaven in the Free Marches, which I can tell you’re from the area. The accent gives way.” The de Calco family had traded with the Trevelyan’s through Corinnthea’s uncle, both had neutral opinions of each other and left it that way to avoid clashings between Ostwick and Starkhaven. Meeting another kid from the Free Marches was refreshing to the young mage.

”You’re right, Lady de Calco. I- I’m Corinnthea, youngest of House Trevelyan, from Ostwick.” The two Marcher girls bowed dramatically to each other, giggles from the two drove any fear the young mage had. The group accepted her into their game, which two teams were established by colored scarves. Blue for the Grey Wardens and Red for the Champions Circle, Ghita insisted she joins her team with the rest of the girls in the Circle, tying the red scarf around her neck loosely. The rules of the game were simple; don’t grab the ball with your hands, if someone falls help them up, and if someone starts bleeding shout ‘War Hound’.

Chapter Text

”W-war hound! War hound! C’mon Junwen, get up!” Everyone froze as the oldest, Topher, shook the elven boy’s shoulders, tears falling down his cheeks. Junwen had taken an elbow to face and was nearly trampled by the group, dark blood flowed from his nostrils and mouth with a dark bruise already settling into his tanned skin. Ghita looked in tears as much as the rest of the group, the fear of Junwen’s safety broke Corinnthea’s trance. She knelt down, rolled Junwen onto his side, and checked for breathing, sighing in relief released as she heard it faintly.

”I’m not- I’m not skilled in regular healing, Topher, but I can- I can help.” The older boy sniffled, begging her to do what she could. With a quick glance towards Ghita and the other girls, the young mage pulled off one of her gloves and the green-blue glow of a strong healing spell engulfed her hand. The bruises lighten, the blood ceasing it’s flow as Junwen awoke was a small gasp, Topher pulling the elf into his arms with a muffled sob once Corinnthea’s spell dissipated. A tired smile on the mage’s face when the group had settled, they didn’t call her out on the magic, they were just happy that Junwen was out of danger. She and the elf both sat out for around to recover their strength, Topher insisting that the two eat something at the very least.

~~

”Lady Herald, there you are! We've been looking-” Cassandra stopped as she saw the scene before her. Corinnthea sat with Junwen, wiping away the blood from his face as Topher, Ghita, and the rest of the kids sat around the fountain, eating whatever they could get their hands on. Ghita sat very close to the young Mage, much to her pleasure and discomfort as a reddish hue refused to leave her cheeks. Tugging on her ears until they burned red. Solas, Varric, and Vivienne appeared behind the Seeker, the whole group erupted into hushed whispers as the four approached the crowd of children. Corinnthea wished she had taken up Solas’s offer to teach her Fade stepping, the want to escape was high on her list as suspicion flooded her mind from the other kids.

”Wait, you're Varric Tethras! You're apart of the Champions Circle, a-and you wrote The Tale of The Champion!” Excitement replaced the suspicion, Varric’s pride and inkling of nervousness peeking through the strength of the kids’ emotions. Ghita grabbed Corinnthea’s hand, pulling her arm with glee. It was no secret that Ghita and many of the other kids loved Varric’s books, a smile shared between the dwarf and young Mage much the annoyance of the three other adults.

”Thea- I mean, Lady Herald!” Junwen snarked, an impish grin on his slim face, “I didn't know you held such unique company! Shall we bow to you when we see you next in Val Royeaux?” He hopped up and bowed dramatically, the other kids snickering and following his lead. The youth turned a few shades darker red as Ghita went onto one knee with Corinnthea’s hand still in her grip, poorly hidden chuckles from Varric and Solas. Their mirth greatly contrasted from the irked glares of the Seeker and First Enchanter, the youth becoming hyper-aware of the dust on her clothes, the dirt smeared on her sweaty face, the bloodied rag in her hand, and Ghita, another girl, clutching her hand in a mock romantic gesture.

Tears blurred her vision as she dropped the rag and pulled her hand from Ghita’s grasp, jumping onto the ledge of the fountain and running off. Corinnthea didn’t care that her friends and companions called after her, nor that she didn’t know where she was going. Vaulting over stands and garden patches while turning random corners, the young mage was distracted by the tears as she crashed into Solas. The elven mage managed to hold his ground and stepped through the fade with Corinnthea in his arms to a quiet balcony, sigh leaving him as the youth sobbed quietly in his grasp. His hands holding the back of her neck, careful to avoid the girl’s ears.

”I’m sorry, I-” Solas silenced her, running a hand through her short hair, an aura of serenity surrounding the pair. Slowly but surely, the tears stopped falling from Corinnthea’s eyes, pulling her face away from Solas’s tunic.

”We should get back to the others. They're- they’re probably worried.” Given a few minutes to clean herself up, the two found the three remaining companions and the band of bairns together, Ghita and Junwen both tackled the young Mage in a hug, already babbling apologies while relief spreaded throughout the whole group. As the day came to a close, the children said their goodbyes, Ghita being the last to leave.

”We should meet again, Corinn, on less strenuous matters, of course. Perhaps I can convince my family to support the Inquisition, I’m sure we can help in some way.” Ghita held both of the mage’s hands in her own, a faint reddish hue on their cheeks as Corinnthea’s companions witness their gentle-hearted Herald of Andraste genuinely smile for the first time since they’ve met.

”I don’t what- don’t want you to create issues with your family, Ghita. I can’t change you can and can’t do, but of- if something happens and you need a place. Come to Haven, the Inquisition can- will have a place for you, I promise.” The girls hugged, Ghita sneaking a peck on the Herald’s cheek before rushing off to her awaiting escort. The stunned girl raised a hand to her cheek, the adults muffling their outward amusement but the young mage could feel it in full at her back.

”You can deal with your infatuation on our way to Haven, Freckles. C’mon.” Varric tugged on the girl’s coat, handing her staff back as they prepared for what awaited them in Ferelden.

Chapter Text

”The Commander sent soldiers to this… bog and now you need to rescue them from the Avaar? Can’t he do it himself, and why call upon the ones he despises to fix his problem?” Solas and Vivienne were seldom seen near each other unless the Herald asked them to, even more so did they ever agree with each other. Corinnthea wanted to speak with the both of them, knowing they would both decline the mission outright given its location and the matter at hand.

”The Avaar can’t- won’t listen to our forces, their leader will- will only face me for the lives of our soldiers. I know you two would’ve declined this, but I wanted to tell- to tell you before setting out. I’m taking Varric, Sera, and- and Seeker Cassandra.” With the reveal of her chosen company, Solas was quick to offer to replace the rowdy female rogue. Corinnthea didn’t have to be to be near the mages to feel their disapproval, let alone pay attention to their auras to catch onto what they felt.

Vivienne chuckled behind her hand as Solas followed the young Herald out to continue to try and have her reconsider her group, later receiving a letter that her requests had been met and the jewelry she commissioned was underway.

”’Tis an odd request, but I’ll accommodate for the Herald of Andraste. I will keep you informed of the progress, Madame De Fer”

~~

”This is disgusting! The Veil smells like an arse here, I’ll tell ya that.” Corinnthea could tell that the Seeker ahead was rolling her eyes as Sera hopped about the rain-soaked bog, Varric already wringing out a piece of his armor while grumbling about his boots. The youth was used to rainy weather with Ostwick being only a few miles from the Waking Sea, but it hadn’t stopped raining since they entered the Korcari Wilds. Even she just wanted a dry place to sleep and not be in a plague-filled bog haunted with hostile mountain men, angry spirits, and whatever the Fade spat at their party.

”These people, they-they probably had families. Now they- they just lie in the water and rot, or-or rise up against their will only to be struck down…” The melancholy statement had Cassandra and Varric asking if the poor girl was feeling alright at every turn until Sera commented on how they acted more like the little Herald’s parents than her actual parents. That shut everyone up as they continued finding more strange and undead swarmed places, always pulling each other away from the water.

”Well now things are awkward. I wonder if the Champion or the Hero of Ferelden went through events like this…” Corinnthea asked out loud, launching a volley of fire bolts at a horde of undead, hearing the whoosh of arrows as Varric and Sera rained down from higher ground, Cassandra had already beat her smaller horde back into their graves. She waited at the mage’s side, beating back any creature that came too close, the horde finally stopping after what seemed an eternity.

”Trust me and take the Seeker’s word for it, Hawke had to go through some tough shit. I left the awkward parts out of the book unless they were comedic enough.” With the week it took getting to the Mire and the few days they had already spent clearing out as much of the bog, it was that moment the adults had seen the glint of light cross Corinnthea’s face. She stayed close to the dwarf to try and wring out some funny stories he left out of the book, only to yell for Varric to stop when he started talking about all the times he had walked in on Hawke and Fenris after the broody elf moved into their residence.

”What? You asked for it, Freckles.” Varric smirked with Sera as a blush traveled up the youth’s face and reached the edges of her ears, her hands coming up to cover them. “I wanted to hear some funny stories, not to invade the Champion’s sex life!” The blush didn’t leave the girl’s face until they set up camp, Corinnthea going to sleep right away once rations had been heated and ingested.

~~

”Can’t you hear her cries? The Lady of the Sky weeps of her wounds.” The towering Avaar, ’Skywatcher’, he called himself turned to the small group approaching. Looking towards the youth that bravely walked to his side without hesitation, he could see the warrior’s spirit that laid behind the scarred skin and wide eyes, the man knew that brat son wasn’t going to last against the power that hid underneath the fear of the child. He will stand back and watch, as he always had done.

”You’re soldiers are alive, but I wouldn’t waste my time. Watch the water, little one.” He warned the mage looked over her shoulder with lightning crackling from her staff, a smile that told of many things stretched across her features.

”I know and thank you.”

~~

”Shite! There’s too many of them, run Squirt!” The group took off, the rogues dropping vials of ichor to slow the horde as panic began to settle within their young leader, the undead crowded around the gate, blocking the way even with the Seeker bashed her way through. Vivienne, who was better skilled in Storm magic, had advised against using lightning in the bog as there was too much risk of Corinnthea harming her companions as well as the enemy. The youth’s fire was useless with water soaking everything in the area, having to rely on close combat or using her staff to beat off creatures.

In that moment of fear, the youth couldn’t but think to the last moments of her Harrowing, the shouts of the Templars, the terrified man that stood above her with his sword in hand, First Enchanter Periculum’s warm voice hoarse from begging for them to stop.

The sound of her own screams didn’t sound like her own as her hand reached up to call down a volley of lightning strikes, the corpses flew from the impact which cleared the path as Cassandra heaved the collapsed youth to her feet while Sera and Varric covered them. The Avaar waiting for them didn’t stand a chance as Corinnthea raised her staff once more, thunder roared above as thunder roared from above as flashes of lightning struck the archers.

Sparks of the magic danced from her fingertips as the youth dropped to hands and knees, heaving what rations she could stomach onto the muddy soil. Cassandra remained at her side while Varric closed the gate, Sera jumped about the area going off off the ’crazy arse weird friggin’ magic shite’ and for once, Varric and Cassandra agreed with the archer. Even Hawke, who was a renowned healer and turned into a damn dragon that one time, couldn’t summon such a volley of lightning that cleared the smell of decay from the air around Corinnthea, who stopped heaving and was scrapping her teeth with elfroot.

”That was something else there, Freckles.” The dwarf quipped, “You think you’ll be able to pull that stunt with the big fella waiting for us?” The young mage gave a weak smile, Varric taking it as a ‘maybe but likely not’ and leaving it at that. Sera calmed down but kept her distance while Cassandra was silent, staying at the girl’s side as they moved forward. Corinnthea muttering under her breath put everyone on edge until she shouted at an archer whose arrow scrapped across the youth’s shoulder.

”Wache nicht morgen auf! Sie rangieren Sack Ziegenarsch!” The fire remained burning the corpse as the mage wrapped her arm, muttering still in the strange language. Staff stabbed into the ground as she pulled any valuables from the corpses.

”Varric, have you heard this language before? It sounds… strange.” Cassandra watched with the dwarf, Sera held an arrow at the ready. ”Do you think I’ve ever been to Ostwick, Seeker? They’re a whole level of weird.” Corinnthea glared at him, pulling her staff out of the ground as she breathed deeply, the harsh green faded to softer hue.

”Sorry, I don’t- I didn’t mean to slip on the tongue there. I was worried you-you might think me Tevinter or something.” The young mage’s accent heavier with embarrassment, the words sounding foreign with the new side of the youth’s voice. Sera snickered, imitating the words, her worries seemingly forgotten.

”You’ll have to explain this at some point, Lady Herald. I think it’s safe to say that nobody has heard that language before.” Varric piped up, the group making the final push before they reached the ruined keep. “Understandable, Varric, but when we ain’t- we aren’t about to fight goat men. This almost reminds me of Hawke’s fight with the- with the Arishok, but more rain.”

~~

”Inquisitor! Prepare to meet your death!” The Chief’s son was big, bigger than the Inquisition’s largest soldiers. Varric and Sera split up on taking down his archers, Seeker Cassandra kept the hulking man away from the mage as she went back and forth from helping the rogues to setting the Avvar of fire. The rain still managing its way into the ruined keep, the sizzling cracks of fire and shocks of lightning from her staff echoed from the crumbling rocks and undead bog. The Hand of Korth was strong, the force of his weapon shook the ground and sent showers of debris when a swing would go wide, Cassandra and Corinnthea rolled and dodged out of his range.

”The little Herald dies here!” He bellowed, charging directly at the young mage, knocking the Seeker back as he began swinging erratically towards Corinnthea. She could feel the bones within her crack at the force, but all sound left her as the ground was forced out from under her. Darkness began to cloud her eyes, the silence filled with whispers of a forgotten language rose and fell with the stuttering breaths escaping her lungs.

”Get up.” One demanded, the voice familiar. “Get up and show what you’re made to be.” The taste of blood soaked the insides of her cheeks, her arm bent back from the horrid angle it sat in. Breathing hurt, her vision spotted and doubled as the sound of thunder resonated in her eardrums. Cassandra was fighting with all her might against Korth, Varric and Sera both shouting, the words muffled in the youth’s ears.

~~

”Corinnthea!” The three adults never felt as helpless as they watched their mage, as strange and attentive she was, hit the stone like a ragdoll and just as lifeless. Cassandra saw Antony laying on the stone, charging at the laughing Avvar with furious vigor as Sera panicked, firing arrow after arrow within her eyes and wrath laced in her words. Varric, already invested in caring for the youth, thought back to Hawke’s countless brushes with the death, the shouts from the Seeker and Sera brought him out his stupor. The area around him burned red, reloading and firing a storm cloud of bolts. Their charge remained motionless behind in their minds, already set on revenge, unknowing of the rising figure.

Chapter Text

”Get up. It’s time, my dear.” A wizened smile entered Corinnthea’s blurred vision, an aged hand shook her arm to further rouse the girl from sleep. First Enchanter Periculum waited with Templars at their side, robes brushing the floor with the old Elf’s movements while the youth slipped into her proper robes, tailored to fit her small frame. Periculum held the girl’s shoulder as the small group traversed the dark and empty hallways of the Circle, the beckon of sleep still stealing away Corinnthea’s focus from where they were going.

”Enchanter Periculum, I still think she is not ready.” Knight Commander Clemens warned as the doors echoed shut behind the mages, the veteran Templar had fear and worry in his heart. “It is my decision, Knight Commander. I believe she is ready and we will follow through.” The old elf was stubborn in their ways, this was something everyone knew. Even as Corinnthea went into the Fade, Clemens looked to Periculum with worry and fear in his heart.

~~

The Fade was a place the youth often wondered in her dreams, seeing old battles from centuries past. The spirits spoke in the native tongue her uncle was insistent that she learned, it is the pride that the Ostwick noble families have forgotten. All but the Trevelyans, of course, surviving the exalted marches from Orlais and the colonization of Tevinter, one old language has survived in their family. It was the youth’s first language and going to the Circle brought on several mistranslations from the old idioms and odd phrases that weren’t easy to translate into standard word.

The youth sighed, the fog of the darken forest licked and curled at her feet as she wandered the towering trees, unable to see the crowns at the top. They too were covered by a thick layer of clouds, twisted with greens and outlines of dark branches. It was different than her dreams, not the expansive plains riddled with broken bodies or a village of wood and hide tents with a group of ginger-haired warriors, rogues, and mages that stood above the rest.

”Du bist Einer von uns, folge mir nach.” A towering man that seemed the embodiment of a warrior appeared before her, eyes bearing down at the mage’s small frame before turning and walking off. Face clouded but the curled, ginger locks were a dead give away to the man’s lineage, armor made of furs and hide made him a ghost. Knowing how demons trick others by deceit and illusions, Corinnthea cautiously followed the spirit, a spell at the ready in case things went south.

~~

”Du bist ein Dämon, oder? Hier, um mich zu betrügen? ” Corinnthea finally spoke after following the spirit for what seemed like hours. ”Oder bist du ein Geist der Tapferkeit, der mich leitet?” The spirit stopped, broad shoulders shifting with every breath as if a mountain took the form of a man, ahead of him were the ruins of a fort the youth had never seen in her dreams before. The outer walls were crumbled, allowing the two to easily climb over it into the courtyard where a young yew tree sat in the middle. That made the mage realize where the spirit had taken her.

”Du hast mich nach Hause gebracht, warum?” Even though she had little memory of the Trevelyan Manor, she remembered the number of times her brothers told her the not eat anything from the giant tree in the courtyard. The yew tree was old then, probably half dead from how old the plant was and how often people would dump their drinks into the soil near during her step-mother’s parties. It looked so young in the fade, in the memory of her ancestors.

”I fear this place, is that why you took me here? To face my fears? Or to strike me down while I sit in shock, coward!” The man turned to the girl, face shifting to that of a fear demon. It’s mask ripped away with a bone-shuttering shriek, the greenery around them melted away to a barren waste. The demon was fast, landing several hits before the mage could manage a spell, her fight was a losing battle. Panic spreading from every missed attack, every failed dodge.

”I’m...I’m going to die here. I’ll never meet my siblings or my father, I’ll die they won’t know how much I wanted to see them, how much I loved the stories Uncle told me about them.” The demon loomed over her, its black tongue lashing out, ready to devour its meal. Tears blurred Corinnthea’s vision as she accepted her fate when echoes of voices calling her name began ringing through the air, the demon backing away as they grew louder and louder as she slowly pulled herself off the ground. A mighty cry rattled the ground spurring the youth to charge forward, staff blade pointed like a spear to its heart.

”Meine Vorfahren lächeln, können sie dasselbe sagen?”

~~

The battle was dragging on, the three were drained of their spirit as the Avaar man still powered on. The fear that they felt turned to hopelessness and dread. Everything seemed to slow as a scream erupted behind them, lightning flaring out as a blur raced past the companions.

”Hau ab, Hurrensohn!” With a thrust of her staff, Corinnthea, back from the grave, went down with Korth. Her staff buried deep in his chest as she stood up, heaving breaths shuddering the youth’s form while she searched the corpse. Corinnthea could feel the shock and doubt, the disbelief that she was up and walking even when she felt like she just fell off a mountain.

”I-... I-I’m okay, everyone.” She looked back at her companions, holding up the key to the cell of the soldiers, a forced smile on her face. “Like hell you are!” The youth flinched back as Sera stormed to her, shaking her by the shoulders, every move stung and throbbed.

”You died! Full on, no coming back died! And you think that you can just friggin brush that off? Daft!” Sera flicked and smacked the little mage until Varric pulled the pissed off elf off, letting Corinnthea step off the cooling corpse before pulling her into a tight embrace. Willing the cold away from her to steady his mind, feeling the youth fall into silent, body-wracking sobs. Cassandra went and freed the soldiers, allowing the youth to be fussed over by the dwarf and to hide the amount of damage she took from the fight. Her arm had been snapped in half, for Andraste’s sake!

”I-I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Everyone looked past their sobbing Herald, seeing the broken child underneath and tearing up with guilt, but Sera was still fuming. The journey out of the bog was swift but plagued with nightmares. Nobody escaped them, even Cassandra was worse for wear until they went north. Most could put the terrors of the bog behind them, but Corinnthea could not, her nightmares grew worse and worse as they left.

By the time they reached the Hinterlands, Corinnthea had forgone sleeping all together, only taking brief naps to stave off exhaustion. Sera was sent to Haven with the soldiers while Vivienne took her place, immediately concerned with how the youth wasn’t sleeping and growing sluggish.

~~

”Backpfeifengesicht.” Corinnthea mumbled as Blackwall denied her offer of joining the Inquisition, half hearing what he said as she tried to get the ringing out of her ears. ”Hold a moment. The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.” With a simple nod of her head, Blackwall took Cassandra’s place and assisted in the final clean up of the Hinterlands. Getting grilled by Varric almost immediately.

~~

”Finally! I thought we’d never get to leave.” Varric chatted away, more than happy to leave the Hinterlands. Vivienne kept to herself away from the rogue while remaining near the Herald, watching the young mage bob and nod her head as black clouds hang in her thoughts and jolt herself upright to keep appearances.

”Lady Trevelyan, are you-Ah!”

”Maker’s breath, get that thing away from her!” As Corinnthea laid near lifeless on the ground, her hart screeched and bucked about almost slamming its powerful hooves on her vulnerable person. Blackwall jumped down and managed to catch the reigns to pull the beast away, Vivienne and Varric already pulling the girl off the ground. Even with all of the chaos around her, Corinnthea stayed unconscious, that's when everything became clear to the dwarf. He had heard the kid get up in the middle of the night occasionally and sometimes never heard her go back to sleep, now with a closer look, Varric could see the heavy bruising around the mage’s eyes.

”She’s exhausted, let her sleep in the cart. That antlered beast won’t run off on us, it’s pretty attached to the kid.”

Chapter Text

”Lady Trevelyan, If I may ask you about your relations to your family back in Ostwick? I do not mean to intrude, but it is necessary if something were to happen to you.” Josephine’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the flinch that shook through the girl’s being, concern finding its way to the front of her mind. Even as a smile appeared on the Herald’s face, anyone with enough intellect could tell it was forced. A hand traveled to her ear, running a gloved finger along the edge.

”There- there isn’t much to ask, Ambassador. I lived- I’ve lived in the Ostwick Circle since I were- I was six years old and my uncle send- sent letters occasionally. I’ve never met the lot- the rest of them.” Corinnthea looked worn out, having returned from her long mission across Ferelden. Her eyes stared off, unfocused and dull with fatigue. The advisors had agreed to not allow her to leave until she rested, though the youth found out and protested without success.

”I understand, Lady Trevelyan. You should get some rest, I’ve heard the trek to the Storm Coast is rather dull and uneventful.” The faint chuckle and agreement Josephine took as an accomplishment. She watched the Herald drop something's off with the researcher then disappearing into the main chambers of the Chantry. The Ambassador was half tempted to have one of Leliana’s agents follow the youth to ensure that she was following the Antivan’s request, but went against it, if anyone’s advice the Herald was going to follow, it was either her’s, Leliana’s, or Solas’s. Josephine didn't know why for herself but she knew that Corinnthea was somewhat scared to disobey Leliana, while she saw Solas as someone to confide in and is more willing to listen to him.

~~

”Have you seen her, Chuckles? The poor kid hadn't slept in days, the collapse was bound to happen.” Solas pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Since Corinnthea’s sudden collapse, the youth has been removing herself from his side, only small conversations and fleeting glances instead of their usual discussions. It angered him, but most of all it worried him. The dwarf’s argument was not helping Elf’s already pounding headache. Solas ignored Varric’s attempts to make him play Wicked Grace and scanned over the village, eyes finding Corinnthea and honing in of her activity.

She was covered up like usual, only he really knew what lay hidden beneath her robes. The young Mage had dipped in and out of the tavern before walking the direction outside, Solas didn't need his eyes to follow her, the mark and her general connection to the Fade made it easy for him to track her. She walked outside and stopped to where Lady Cassandra and Commander Cullen stood, probably getting reports from the two warriors, then made her way towards the little cabin her called her own.

”I believe that Corinnthea is finally going to rest, Varric. You should go keep Sera distracted, just so the Herald can rest truly.” The dwarf raised an eyebrow but eventually wandered off to the tavern, allowing him to step into the Fade to find the Herald. Finding her was easy, again the mark was a beacon to her but often music floated about her dreams, soft and pleasant it drew spirits of virtues to her side. They would gather and join in her songs and dances, her peace fulfilling to them.

”Alas my love, you do me wrong. To cast me off discourteously and I have loved you for so long, delighting in your company…” Solas watched quietly from the side, Corinnthea danced with a compassion spirit in the middle of a gathering crowd, the flow of arcane energy swayed with the melody of the music. The pair danced over water, small ripples appearing as the two moved with grace like the liquid itself, taking a bow as the song came to an end. Joy and compassion radiated from the young mage as she and the spirit began another dance, the song changing to something they had heard while in Orlais. Solas took the opportunity to join the dancers and get close to Corinnthea, her smile growing as the two switched partners to end up dancing together.

”I see you are resting better now. I'm glad.” Solas smiled, following the steps of the dance with grace only held by his kind. The pair glided across the scenery, leaving small ripples in their wake.

”Josephine suggested for me to do so, and- and I missed doing this. The dancing, I mean. I would- I use to dance when I- when I was still in the Circle, the other girls would join me sometimes.” The spirits around them dissipated as the scene changed, a well-kept courtyard with a large willow tree at its center. Mages milled about, some reading, others conversing with each other. When a group of smaller girls raced past, at the head of them was an even younger Corinnthea. Her hair was much longer then, tied up in a tail that moved as she did, her laughter loud and joyous as she and others spun to soundless music. Solas looked to the youth to see tears make their way down her cheeks, but there was no sadness to their presence.

”When I did the- the Harrowing, I was told that I- that I couldn't tell them at all- anything since they were still apprentices. I never saw them after that, my- my own goals had blinded me of what friendship I had, but I- but I see past the fog now.” The scene changed once again, to a view of the Waking Sea. The two stood on an elegant balcony of a mansion, but the home was cold and empty, off to the side of them was Corinnthea next to a man that shared her ginger locks. Lord Arran ruffled the shorter hair that the young mage had now, her gloved hands gripped the banister as she turned to him, their lips moved but no sound echoed outward. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the sand and rocks below, soothing with the breeze passing through their robes and shifting the curls that sat atop the Herald’s head.

”Uncle took me here before- before I left Ostwick, it’s the Trevelyan summer home. Though Arran lives and- and maintains the mansion, he wanted me to see- to see a- a piece of the Trevelyan family before leaving.” She breathed deeply, tears no longer but a smile as the smell of the sea wafted into their noses. Solas reached to touch Corinnthea’s shoulder, though remembered and rested his hand at the back of her head. She began to fade, waking up from her rest. Her peace emanated from the spot where she stood, while Solas watched the silent conversation loop over as a somber smile crawled onto his face.

Chapter Text

”Have I ever told you how much I hate nature?” Corinnthea rolled her eyes, shaking her head to lighten the water weight on her head. Her curls sticking every which way as she grumbled and pulled her hood up, looking to Lady Vivienne and Ser Blackwall while the dwarf swatted her arm for spraying him. They were here to gather information on the Grey Wardens, take care of the bandits, and to recruit The Iron Bull, among whatever the hell the Storm Coast wanted to throw at them.

”If I hadn’t met the Commander before you, Freckles. You would be ‘Curly’ and not him-uh… We’re not gonna fight that, are we?” A boisterous laugh from below drew the group’s attention from the dragon that flew past, two parties fought furiously as the quartet slid down the slopes to their aid. Within a single bound, the young mage drove the blade of her staff through the armor of her target, the spray of blood stained the ground, her coat, and her face as she brought down several bolts of arcane lightning. Her eyes seemed to spark and burn as the enemy was struck down, either by her magic or her blade, Vivienne and Blackwall looked to Varric as they watched Corinnthea shift from the soft-hearted girl that greeted them with a forced though kind smile to a weapon of arcane and roguish abilities.

”Zu deinem Grab gehst du!” This person wasn’t the young Corinnthea Trevelyan, it was the Herald of Andraste, the Head of the Inquisition, in a way it saddened those in the Inner Circle. She was too young in their eyes, yet she bore the burden of the world on her shoulders and still had the will to be kind to everyone they’ve come across.

~~

The Iron bull was a Qunari, just as his Lieutenant spoke of. He raised an eyebrow as Vivienne waved her hand and the blood streaking down the youth’s face and clothes dissipated from her form, Corinnthea rolled her shoulders with a deep sigh. Sparks of lightning crackled off her fingers as she pulled the hood that had fallen in battle back over the wild mess of curls, being soaked once more as her magic dried her off. Harsh green eyes grew soft as Bull made his offer and explained his connection to the Arishok, the look of a hardened warrior became that of a doe-eyed sprig of a girl with an apparent heart of gold. She knew that Madame Vivienne was the most uncomfortable of them all and had her sent back to Haven with the rest of the Chargers, and handed Bull a finely crafted armor set and weapon.

”There is little doubt, I have- I have in your abilities, Bull. I’ve did- I’ve done this for everyone, you are no exception.” The Qunari looked over the dwarf and the Warden, both equipped in well-made uniforms and weapons. Their journey across the Storm Coast shown a new light on the kid for The Iron Bull and Blackwall, the latter who had witnessed her collapse on their way to Haven and had carried her with him until the healers pulled her away. She was a pacifist by nature, as much as it infuriated her to find the dead scouts, she made the necklace of mercy and fought the bandits’ leader. They fought and killed dragonlings, apostates, bears, demons, and an fucking giant, that feat was Bull’s highlight as he retold the story to the scouts at the camps. Blackwall had been quiet since they had collected the final pieces of the Grey Warden’s artifacts, while Varric complained of becoming a ‘moldy dwarf’. The three men stopping instantly when Corinnthea had started laughing at the dwarf’s whining, the sound reminded them of how young she was.

”You alright with everything that's going on, Freckles? It's a lot for someone your age to be bearing the weight of. You should be in classes, breaking the hearts of boys while the other girls turn green.” She could feel the worry and wonder from the three men, making her falter in answering. Worry from non-mages, especially a Qunari, was something she would never be used to, Herald of a God status be damned.

“As-as much as I want to escape, get-go back to the Free Marches, and never think of-of Ferelden again. I won’t-can’t-cannot walk away from those in-in need, it goes against everything I-I hold to myself. I will finish this, even if I didn’t start it.” With their return to Haven, awaiting them was a short elven man that had the Herald in a fit. She hopped off her mount and dead sprinted into the man’s arms, shoulders shaking as she laughed and sobbed into his leather armor. He ran his fingers through her unruly curls, matching her with tears running down his pointed cheeks, long black hair tangled with the wind as he held her face in his hands with a large smile.

”Valser Lavellan, it is truly wunderbar to see a familiar face! Mein Liebling!” She laughed, Valser seeped joy and relief as he smiled wide. ”Corinnthea Dazda Panothari Trevelyan, my dear girl! I’ve come bringing gifts and news. First Enchanter Anavile sends her regards to your safety and your sense of duty to this… Inquisition? Your Ambassador and Spymaster were surprised that a Dalish Elf showed up with a title like Enchanter, but they have been very accommodating.” Corinnthea seemed to bounce with each step, her eyes crinkling with her bright smile. This side of her was different, but it became something of a goal for those that saw her happiness, for it to be able to shine through with those in the Inner Circle. The advisors allowed the Herald to take the day with her old friend, as Valser only planned to stay overnight before returning to the Ostwick Circle.

”I would stay longer, but the Anavile doesn’t want to risk losing another Enchanter since the news of Airtho and Dolin. Their families have been informed and we’ve received letters from your siblings asking for you, when asked why they didn’t send them to you directly, their answer was… unexpected.” The young mage seemed to freeze at the news, having never received anything from her siblings, let alone her parents. Valser had to remind her to breathe, handed her a simply crafted box with a rune of protection carved into the top, and rested a kiss upon the crown of semi-tamed curls. The Elf bid her goodnight, allowing her to open her gifts in private.

The gifts were separated into small pouches, a pile of letters sitting at the bottom of the box. Despite the few friends Corinnthea had in the Circle itself, the Dalish clan, Lavellan, almost consider her their own. Wood carved charms, a warm woven blanket, dried herbs for medicine and teas, and a pair of fur-lined gloves came with small letters from the hunters and the Keeper. They had begun trades with the Inquisition and had grown better ties within the Trevelyan trading deal, now were flourishing despite the issues with the Templars and apostates attacking them. The Tranquil in the Circle had an oddly endearing attachment to the youth, they had sent salves and runes of warming and protection with a letter they had Valser or another Enchanter write for them. The amount of Tranquil in the Circle had grown since the rebellion, the Circle opening its doors to those that didn’t want to fight.

There were two pouches made of finer material than the rest and six letters from each of Corinnthea’s siblings. Sitting in front of the hearth with the new woven blanket wrapped about her shoulders, she slowly opened the letters from oldest to youngest. Joseph, the oldest and heir to Father’s seat, was much like him as Uncle had said. His letter was one of concern, asking how she fared in the mountains and with everything that had happened to her. He spoke of how much his wife and son wanted to meet their infamous or famous, Corinnthea couldn't tell herself, relative.

Anele’s writing told of her recent trip to Val Royeaux and Madame Vivienne’s joining of the Inquisition. She wrote that she had wanted dearly to finally meet her youngest sister and fellow mage, the guards, likely under their mother's orders, refused to let her leave the Circle’s boundaries. The twins, Maytrinn and Paytrinn, wrote of how Father had taken the news of the Conclave, the rise of Herald of Andraste, and how infuriated their mother had become when Corinnthea’s letter had arrived. Father had written a letter to Lady Josephine on the matter, and had nothing written for her personally. It was expected, but it hurt nonetheless.

”Liebste kleine Schwester ...” Percival was peculiar as Uncle spoke of, he wrote like they had been sending letters for years. Talking of new inventions and potential ideas for upcoming works, different ways of particular items, and a few humorous incidents that happened in his workshop. He mentioned an elvish hunter that came to visit him in the gardens, how his heart was smitten by such a handsome man that somewhat reminded the young mage of Enchanter Valser. Corinnthea hesitated to read Thomas's letter, he was the closest in age to her and most likely had no memory of her prior to what their parents and siblings had told him.

”Corinnthea Dazda Panothari Trevelyan, my beloved sister, and fellow mage.”Thomas was equally angered like Anele for not being able to meet his sister while in Val Royeaux, both of them had been pulled from the Circle to live in the Trevelyan estate and were being privately tutored by mages from the Ostwick Circle. Their mother was actively trying to remove Corinnthea from the family and the siblings were prying at Father for answers, a feat that was going to take some time. Their father was stubborn and Uncle Aaran was doing business in Antiva, so his aid was going to be a last resort.

The two pouches contained gifts from all of the siblings, Joseph had sent a portrait set of his family. His wife was of a noble family in Orlais, their son had the Trevelyan curls, however. Anele and Thomas both sent things they had gotten in Val Royeaux, an intricately designed pair of gloves from her sister and a scarf made of the softest fabric the youth had ever touched from her brother. The twins had sent books they thought Corinnthea would enjoy while Percival had a sent an odd arm piece with a letter on how to use it.

”Flex part of-of your forearm away from your face and try-and try not to jump… Ok?” With a sudden shift in the weight of the arm piece as a sharp blade sprung from the leather, the youth was shot forward with the force the blade exerted. Her blanket fell from her shoulders and the pile of letters in her lap scattered as she landed with a hefty thump! Eyes full of wonder and excitement rushing through her veins, she packed away her gifts and letters into the rune-carved box and stood to get used to the force of the blade. Even as she fell dozens of times, a smile remained with a giggle each time she got up from a tumble.

~~

”Dame Josephine, I have letters for my siblings!... And-and my parents.” The mage could see and feel the relief and slight joy from the Antivan, who took the letters with a gentle hand while the other cupped her cheek.

”I'm glad you decided to reach back out to your family, I will have these sent before you leave for Redcliffe.” Before she could stop herself, Josephine pressed a gentle kiss to Corinnthea's temple, the young mage froze in place. The two stood in silence until Cullen walked passed with Lady Cassandra for a war meeting. Cassandra picked up on the awkward tension between the two and placed her hand on the Herald’s head, guiding her along while Leliana appeared behind the Ambassador with notes to discuss. The two mentally thanking their companions for their timing as they were to look over anything that the advisors’ people could do while the Herald was investigating Redcliffe.

Chapter Text

”You have a way of choosing your company, Lady Herald. Diplomacy would have been much harder with the The Bull and Sera.” Vivienne brushed off her dark colored robes as the guard outside the gates of Redcliffe signaled for them open. Corinnthea tugged her gloves tighter to her hands, glancing between the Seeker and Varric as the dwarf had nearly fallen in the fight with the Rift. Patches of broken veil seemed to slow and speed time around them, it taking its effect on Varric's abilities. As the scout approached them, Corinnthea could feel the distress radiate from the man, something was wrong here. What exactly was answered as an elf approached with an apology.

”I'm sorry, Magister Alexius had been called away but he will meet you in the tavern.” His smile was strained, but his feelings were neutral. Everyone in the party could tell the immediate change in disposition, especially in the Herald. Her general nervousness had been of some concern but now she resembled as startled Halla ready to bolt at a moments notice. Cassandra and Vivienne looked to Varric while they guided the young Herald to a quiet corner, the dwarf already taking action with doubt set in his features.

”Shit Freckles, I'm not Solas. I don't know how to help you.” Corinnthea reached out and latched herself to the dwarf’s shoulder, her rapid breathing slowed to match his. Her small hands clung to the edges of his coat while the women kept watch. After a while, the young mage let go, blinking tears out if her eyes, Varric silently handed her waterskin over, a silent ‘thank you’ from her as Corinnthea slowly regained her composure.

~~

Fiona was indentured to Alexius, and the man was similar to the people that Uncle told Corinnthea about. The girl went into the role of a negotiating merchant that she had witnessed many times, until Alexius’s son approached looking pale. Catching the man and bearing his weight showed off that the young mage wasn't as weak as most would believe. The Magister couldn't jump to Felix’s side fast enough, towing him away with haste.

”Come to the Chantry, You are in danger.” After gaining another agent, and speaking with the Revered Mother. The quartet opened the doors to the Chantry, the same one that the Hero of Ferelden defended during the Blight with the help of the people in Redcliffe. What they were expecting was a trap, turned out to be a single man beating demons off with his staff as the green lights of a Rift sparked.

”Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?” The grandstanding Altus reminded Corinnthea greatly of her uncle, though the man was still from Tevinter which kept her on edge. Felix had arrived and explained why he and Dorian were doing this to his father, something Corinnthea wished she could relate to. Once taking care of the needs of the villagers in Redcliffe, the quartet left to Haven to consult with the Herald’s advisors. Though she had a feeling on what one of them was going to say anyway.

~~

”Fortunately, you'll have help.” Corinnthea wanted to sing praises when Dorian made his dramatic entrance, the arguing of her advisors was grinding on her nerves despite the high respects she held to the adults. Even when the meeting was adjourned, Cullen was still offering an out for the young mage to approach the Templars. Seeker Pentaghast had told the three about the Herald’s panic attack when they had been informed of Alexius, Solas going near mother hen on the poor girl as a result.

”You are certain you want to take those two to meet this Magister, Da’len? They hate dealing with magic and you're planning to drag them into the middle of it?.” The girl sighed a third time as she allowed her elven mentor to argue himself into coming along. She didn't have to focus to feel his worry over her, Maker’s breath, she could feel Sera’s mischief from thrity paces away! She grasped Solas’s gesturing hands in her gloved ones, holding them with security.

”I-I understand your concern, Hahren. The Iron Bull is f-for intimidation, the Tevinter and the Qunari are s-sworn enemies. Sera may hate magic, but her skills in archery c-can't be ignored. Dorian knows what he's doing and I sense n-no ill-will in him. I will not risk those closest to me in the presence of a M-magister, no matter the stakes the place me in.” She could sense his disapproval though understanding lay beneath it, his wished her safety and blessings before exiting her cabin, silence filling the gap.

~~

”You're nothing but a mistake.” Corinnthea almost snorted at the Magister’s words, their meaning more true with her siblings’ discovery. Though Alexius was starting to sound like a villain in one of her books, tragic backstory and all. She could feel Bull and Sera’s amusement as she mocked the man, though it all fell away as he summoned a large rift. Dorian had jumped in front of Corinnthea, his own fear was countered by his will and determination. The world around them faded as they disappeared into the rift.

”It is Corinnthea, yes? I had overheard the Seeker talking to a dwarf and she said that name.” Dorian’s outward calm was strange to what Corinnthea could feel radiating from within him, panic, concern, wonder, and curiosity. She was more worried about the red lyrium growing like elfroot out of the walls and floors. It wasn't long until they had found Bull, his loud voice carried through the cells. He explained everything that happened while the two were ‘dead’, the demon army and the assassination of the Orlesian Empress. The girl was unnerved by Sera’s fear, always used to the elf’s mischief and mirth, though the exasperation from Dorian lightened her mood, everything crashed when they found Enchanter Fiona.

”Corinnthea? I'm so sorry, I should have told you sooner. Oh, my daughter. You deserve a better mother than me, I let you die…” The Enchanter sobbed against the wall, the three adults looked to the youth with surprise, a whole year and this was new. They watch her clench her fists, trying to keep herself in check, though a stray tear streaks down her cheek. With a slight huff, she turned away and continued to find Leliana.

”Boss… Did you know that? About your mother?” The girl furrowed her brow, avoiding some protruding red lyrium as they pushed on, Leliana, aged and skeletal now, squared her shoulders as she pulled the girl away from the Altus with a glare. Everyone fighting, Corinnthea sealing Rifts, and collecting shards of lyrium to open the throne room.

”I had a f-feeling, but it d-doesn't matter right now. Let's end this.” With their eyes dead set, they confronted the Magister, Leliana setting off the battle with Felix’s death. Bull taking on the demons that poured out of the Rifts, Sera and Leliana shooting arrow after arrow, and Dorian’s spiritual magic kept the archers protected while his fire combined with Corinnthea's lit the throne room with burning rage. The young Mage seemed to glow with her lightning strikes, her teeth bared in a snarl as the blade of her staff cut through the Fade spawn. Then it was over, the room rumbled with the approached of The Elder One, the effects of the battle still rushing through their veins as tears began to betray the girl.

~~

”You'll have to do better-” Dorian’s witty remark was cut off by the sudden swing of the Herald’s staff, striking Alexius with the twisting metal dragons of her weapon. Curls wild with dried blood and ash as tears of anger filled her jade green eyes, the edge of the blade at his neck when the magister looked up from the blow. What seemed to be the glow of her magic hadn't faded, the faint white-blue glow contrasting the roaring fire in the room.

”Thea, that's enough! He's given up.” Dorian pulled the staff away with one hand, the other bringing the youth into his chest as sobs began to take their hold over her. Sera was the first to try and pull her away, but the Herald held onto the Altus while the glow about her went out like a candle. Her energy gone as she pulled away, the King’s men marching their way in. Fiona pleaded for forgiveness, but Alistair wasn't having it, neither was Anora.

”The Inquisition will take the mages as allies, we need them to seal the Breach.” A shiver ran up everyone's spines, the flat, dead tone of the youth’s voice was unnatural, too damaged for someone her age. The blank look in her eyes and face had the whole room worried for her, she could feel it, but it was buffered like a heavy wool blanket was pulled over her. The anger that the King and Queen held was gone as they observed the puffy, bloodshot eyes, the wild and dirty curls, and the blank expression Corinnthea maintained. The Enchanter looked to her son and back at her daughter with despair, for she knew they most likely would never meet again, and the events that they had gone through had ruined them.

”Lady Trevelyan? Are you alright?” The undignified squeak with the girl nearly jumping across the room was enough to tell anyone that the young Mage was not fine. Solas watched from a distance, Corinnthea apologizing profusely as she scrambled away from the horrified scout. The Tevinter Mage had taken up residence in the cabin across from the Elf, Solas could visibly see the man furrowed his brow at the scene they witnessed. The Iron Bull, Sera, and this Tevinter mage had done something to the Herald, with what happened in Redcliffe, as far as Solas had been told, the events had left the Herald traumatized. Her dreams were nightmares of said events, twisted in ways that left the young mage screaming in the real world, she had resorted to not sleeping at all for a time which nearly got her killed. With the mages be-readying themselves to close the Breach left seldom time for her to recover.

”Solas, you're the closest to Thea, correct? Has this happened before?” Dorian had subtly stepped to the Elf’s side, his question expected. They watched silently as the child in question sat with Varric, the dwarf was going over additions to his newest book, reading aloud with Corinnthea resting upon his shoulder with her woven blanket wrapped about her frame. The two mages didn't have to see her face to know how gaunt she had become, the nightmares tearing her appetite to nothing, the bruising under her eyes were concerning to all. Her breathing slowed under the blanket, it going unnoticed by the rogue as he continued with his reading and writing. Anyone who took notice of her sudden slumber went near silent with a held breath, waiting for the screams to tear from her throat.

But it never came, even as Varric noticed the sleeping Mage at his shoulder, he kept reading aloud. A scout had retrieved the dwarf food and water as the hours passed, some of the Chantry sisters would adjust the girl’s blanket, one laid a blanket over the two as she passed. Cullen had come in for lunch and spoke quietly with Varric, fetching him more paper and ink as the dwarf was on a writing frenzy. Sister Leliana had wandered over after bringing informed of the Herald’s prolonged rest, having a healer change to bandages on the girl while she rested. Their most recent adventure to the Hinterlands was Corinnthea’s lowest moment, a gash splitted her brow and extended almost to the hairline. Bull was the one to pull the youth out of reclusion through the stories of his various scars and the battles behind their creation.

”Our first attempt to seal the Breach, she had nightmares during her recovery. They occurred often after a harsh fight, the events of the Fallow Mire and her sudden collapse brought such dreams for several days, but never this violent.” The Tevinter had been told by scouts and the Warden of her strange moment of fragility, the bog of undead, and the state she had been in afterwards. Guilt stabbed its way into Dorian’s heart, watching Revered Mother Giselle and Josephine, two whom rarely left the confines of the Chantry, approach the sleeping mage with caution, leaving with somber smiles and mother-like kisses to the crown of red-brown curls. Sera and Iron Bull had both passed by, the elven woman crouched beside the Herald poked at her cheek but Corinnthea remained unmoved, while Bull didn’t touch them, he spoke quietly to Varric and walked on. Vivienne had fretted over the girl prior to this unexpected rest, having washed every speck of blood and ash from her person and gave her some imported sweets from Orlais and the Free Marches, a gift the youth indulged in right away.

”It sometimes takes a long rest like these for her to recover, only when she wakes up, we shall see if that hold true.” With that, Solas walked in the direction of the pair, meeting Cassandra with them, the two sat with the dwarf for another hour until the girl stirred. The two stretched their stiff limbs, rubbing the warmth back in them, the softest, most genuine smile the Tevinter man had ever seen reach the eyes of the Herald.

Chapter Text

The sound of music and joy was strange outside, the people of Haven danced together, Mage, soldier, and commoner alike. Corinnthea had adjusted from her time in Redcliffe, still skittish but more responsive, more child-like as she was. She smiled as she watched the night sky, the happiness, and peace of the people eased her thoughts. Cassandra and she spoke briefly, the bell of alarm drawing the two, along with Varric and Solas, to the gates.

”I can't come in unless you open!” The strange young man, Cole he said, spoke of red Templars, the Elder One, and pointed to two figures in the distance. Everything seemed to slow as Cullen shouted orders and words of valor, determination concurring the fear. A hand grasped Corinnthea's briefly before letting go, Cole was gone but the battle raged on. Fighting strange abominations that grew the corrupted lyrium from their bodies, defending the troops and the trebuchets. The battle seemed to be won when they covered the army with an avalanche! Then a horrific screech filled the air, the siege construct beside the quartet erupted in flames, throwing them to the ground. A single thought consumed the girl’s mind.

”We have to get to the village! The people are in danger!” Never had the three seen the young girl fight so harshly, shoving her hand into the helmet of a Templar as a blazing ball of fire shot out from the other side. Minaeve had been burned from an explosion, the Herald towing her inside the Chantry. Cole was there and Chancellor Roderick as well, though the Cleric was badly injured. Cullen gave the statistics of survival, the Chancellor revealing a way for the people to escape, even though it meant some sacrifice.

”Know this, you will all survive tonight, even if I do not.” As they fought, this announcement had the adults protesting, guarding the girl more as they aimed the trebuchet. Blood and gore covered them all as the dragon flew over them, everything became a blur from then on. Her lips moved, though she heard nothing. Corypheus and Anchor echoed in her mind as her hand was nearly ripped from her shoulder and tossed into the hard, unforgiving wood of the siege weapon. A single flare appeared in the distance, a sign that relieved the girl. The people were safe, she didn't matter in her eyes. She allowed the darkness to consume her as she jumped off the side, the snow shutting out the lights.

~~

”She did it, then-” A breath escaped the Commander as the realization hit him, it hit them all as the three returned, and Haven was shrouded with a snowy cloud. They had sent a child to her death, they got her killed damn it! The villagers wailed openly, not only for the ones they've lost but for the loss of their darling, kind-hearted Herald of Andraste. The advisors and those of the Inner Circle held strong as they helped the remaining people of Haven through the mountains. The few youths that lived in Haven and amongst the Rebel Mages were devastated by the news, Corinnthea had become something of an idol, a paragon if you will, to the other children. Her strength and compassion to anyone and everyone she would come across had inspired the youths to help the Inquisition in any way that they can, elves, humans, even a pair of Tal-Vashoth twins. They held together, helping the people carry things, fetching bandages, and when asked why, they would say it's for Lady Corinnthea Trevelyan, their friend.

~~

A sharp gasp echoed in the cavern, a battered and beaten young girl heaved herself up to stand, clutching her side as she regained her bearings. She followed the tunnel for what seemed like ages, the lights of outside pulling her into a run. Demons appeared out of nowhere, reaching to pull out her staff, a strange pull of power surged from Corinnthea, making a Rift tear open and pull the demons back. The blizzard was unforgiving as nature had always been, spotting fire pits and the faintest inkling of mourning sadness was what drove the young Mage on. The snow numbed her entire being, the glow of her mark brightened the white, near waist deep snow about her. Falling to her knees when a collection of voices called out to her, the darkness pulling her away.

~~

”Corinnthea! Hold on!” Cullen reached the fallen Mage first, pulling her into his arms as they rushed back down to the camp. She was limp against the fur mantle of his shoulders, scouts shielded her away from the survivors as healers rushed in. They ripped the girl out of Cullen's grasp, the Commander reached to pull her back until the Seeker caught his arm. The girl was wrapped in heavy blankets, her vulnerable state brought anger and blame into the advisors as they argued fiercely with each other. Few noticed Dorian, who sat not far from the young mage, dark thoughts plaguing his mind as shivering breaths shook the girl’s small frame. Cole, the strange spirit that had warned them, was seen out of the corner of everyone’s eyes. Elfroot would appear when there would be none, along with fresh bandages and blankets.

Solas lead her away as the people finished the hymn, informing her of the orb’s origin and informing her of a place where they can settle. Within days of reaching Skyhold, Cassandra had led the girl up the stairs that looked over the courtyard of the ancient keep, telling her of the feats the Inquisition had accomplished with her help. Leliana stood with a large sword, in her own hands, it was heavy in general and in what meant for the future, the responsibility that would sit upon the youth’s shoulders.

”Your leader! You're Herald! You're Inquisitor!” Lifting the sword made the girl’s arms shake from the weight of the metal. With Varric’s shady meetup offer and checking with the blacksmith, Corinnthea began to explore Skyhold, finding where her companions were settling and speaking with them. Finding Cole and allowing him to stay. That's when Josephine pulled her aside before she was to explore the new War room, a large smile contrary to the grim times of late. She handed the mage a letter marked with the Trevelyan seal, Uncle Aaran’s cursive script brought a true smile to her face. He had heard of what happened in Haven, the whole family did, Father was sending him, Joseph, and Percival to Skyhold for discussion of Arrangements.

”This is wunderbar! Danke- I mean, thank you, Josephine, for-for showing me this.” She held the letter with delicate hands, afraid the illusion would fade for such news. With sudden abandon, Corinnthea wrapped her arms around the Ambassador’s waist, hugging the Antivan tightly, the initial shock felt immediate before fading into content. Josephine ran her fingers through the wind-swept curls, having observed the youth’s aversion to contact with her back and shoulders, only to wonder what the girl was hiding.

~~

”You wanted me to-to meet someone, Varric?” The sound of steps bit at her attention, she had to do a double take as Hawke himself approached them. The man, the mage that saved Kirkwall, stopped the Qunari invasion and had inspired her to study storm magic. Hawke told her everything he knew of Corypheus, and why he left.

”How’s Fenris doing? Seen him lately?” Garrett’s sharp blue eyes grew soft, a smile brief on his face. “I have, his tattoos were over-reacting when I last saw him. Merrill was taking care of him.” Bringing up Fenris brought an unexpected reaction out of her, a flash of white-hot pain shot down her back, a gasp of pain escaped as she gripped the wall. Tears blurred her vision as Hawke was at her side, hands glowing with a healing spell, Varric holding her upright as the pain run its course.

”I've only seen those reactions from Fen- from others branded with lyrium. Though you're from the Free Marches, not Tevinter.” The pain numbed, leaving as quickly as it came. Breathing slowly, with shaking hands Corinnthea pulled off one of her gloves. White brands twisted and sparked like lightning across the back, pulsing a faint blue that faded, the young mage gripped the dwarf by the collar, a sudden hard look on the girl’s face.

”Varric Tethras, you can't tellanyone about this! This is my burden to bear, I don't want the advisors to find-to find out. Cassandra and Blackwall would probably blame Dorian and get him killed.” Wincing as she got to her feet, Corinnthea fled in a puff of arcane smoke. Masking the lingering pain as she rushed into the main hall, intending to hide in her quarters until the pain had passed through. When she was cut off by the Revered Mother, concerned for different matters.

”Mother Giselle, could we-could we discuss this at another time? I'm not feeling good- I-I mean well.” The concern the older woman felt directed to her now, but she nodded and handed the girl a letter without another word. Once in the stairwell, Corinnthea hardly used the stairs, jumping over railings and stepping through the Fade to reach her quarters. Inside she pulled the fitted tunic in a rush as the pain returned with a vengeance, arcane lightning cracked and danced over the tattoos that stretched down her back and shoulders before disappearing into her waistband. A muted scream contorted her features while the lightning cracked and struck the walls and ceiling of her room. Worry pushed through the pain she felt, Cole knelt at her side unsure on how to help.

”A wicked hand, soothing but cruel. The sharp sting of the needle. ‘Why? Why are you hurting me?’ The hurt lingers though they have long passed, you have forgiven them but why doesn't the hurt leave?” Cole pulled the young mage into his arms, avoiding the pale markings as the lightning ceased. Corinnthea buried her face into his shoulder, hands gripping the dusty shirt with knuckles white, her muscles contracting her another wave of pain came down. Her magic did not crackle, Cole now running deft fingers over the jagged lines that darted over her back. The spirit was always cold, no matter how much she or the dwarf tried to warm him up though she considered it a blessing now, the heat of her skin cooling under his hands.

~~

”You’re not seriously thinking on having him come to Skyhold, Hawke? He’ll be at everyone’s neck, especially Sparkler’s. The kid would not appreciate it.” Varric sighed as Hawke started going off on how beneficial it would be for the Inquisitor to know what exactly those tattoos meant and how the elven man would teach her how to control them like he does.

”And I don’t mean ripping people’s hearts out, Varric. She’s too young for that. Fenris… He’s concerned over the kid since your letters confirmed how old she was. He won’t admit it but he likes kids.” A smile grew over Garrett’s face, remembering the times when he witnessed the unknown, softer side to his lover, falling in love with him all over again it seemed. The dwarf beside him sighed again, giving in to the sappy, love-struck mage in front of him. His mind went back to the girl in question, he tried finding Cole but figured the spirit had found her already. The dwarf let the Champion write his letter as he went to find a certain elven mage, knowing that the man had most likely seen the kid’s tattoos from when they were still in Haven, being Corinnthea’s guide, mentor, and assisted Adan when healing her.

”Chuckles, can I talk to you in private? It’s kind of important.” Solas paused though agreed, Varric could see the weird, elven gears turning in the mage’s head as they walked to a private walkway on the battlements. Solas went straight to the point, asking what the dwarf wanted and why they needed to be alone, crossing his arms and stared down at the rogue. The two were hyper-focused in their stare-off that the flashes of lightning from the Inquisitor’s tower did nothing to draw away their attention, eventually, Varric broke away from the intense gaze, deflating as he let out what seemed to be the millionth sigh today.

”It’s about...ugh, it’s about Corinnthea. I know you know something that the rest of us either don’t know about or have thought about asking.” Solas simmer down a bit but played the clueless and aloof card, a play that Varric had seen many a time and was not about to be fooled by a hedge mage with an attitude. The elf was one of the harder nuts the dwarf had to crack, but when he got the man to play a few rounds of Wicked Grace and saw how shit he was at hiding his tells, Varric knew when Solas was lying to him.

”If you’re talking about her skin, then yes, I know of it. How much of her body is marked, I don’t know, and Adan and I were sworn into secrecy by Corinnthea herself. She sees the marks as a brand of subordination, which they are, she has every right to hide them from the advisors and anyone she doesn’t trust. How did you find out anyway?” Varric explained their meeting with Hawke, Solas quirked an eyebrow at the mention of Fenris though the dwarf didn’t say his name outright, just that Hawke knew him well. The mage deflated with a huff of air, apologizing for his hostile behavior, then went through a flurry of emotions as he realized what Varric meant.

”You just let her go?! She could be anywhere, in that state she is vulnerable to anything!” Varric managed to convince the frantic, mother-hen mage that Cole was most likely with the Inquisitor and taking care of her. A chuckle escaping him as they walked back inside the rotunda, realizing how protective they all were over the kid and how many of them were willing to lay down their lives to protect her.

Chapter Text

”By the time you should be returning from the Exalted Plains, your uncle and brothers would be reaching Skyhold shortly after. I have to inform that Baron Salvador Da Filicaia will be arriving around the same time and he is expecting a welcoming banquet.” The two women held in their chuckles as the Commander and Inquisitor choked on air, looking to the Ambassador with bewilderment and worry. Cullen’s unintentional charm drew women to him constantly, much to his annoyance, while the young mage knew it meant wearing a dress and acting like she had been raised with her family. Her lack of noble training was apparent when Josephine and Vivienne assessed her knowledge from dining to dancing, the dancing was the only thing she had some proficiency in. Pulling on her ears with nerves and frustration.

”Madame De Fer and Marchioness Lisa-Maria Maurer have informed me of several scandals and rumors of the Baron, including the intent of marrying off his youngest son to the Inquisitor for power.” A shiver went up the girl’s back, having heard some of the things that Vivienne had told her about the boy. He was spineless, disquieted lad with a history of poor health, while the Marchioness playing matchmaker was typical, she was close friends with Lady Trovanna Trevelyan, her ’mother’. The Commander tensed at the news, having been uninformed of the intent though relieved that the youth wasn't onboard with marriage.

”We’ll see that the Baron keeps in his place. I need to stop the Hinterlands before leaving Ferelden, noble mage business to be settled.” Once she had recovered from the sudden attack from what branded her body, Corinnthea had read the letter the Revered Mother gave her then promptly found Dorian to inform him of its contents. His family was trying to contact him, though given the vastly different histories the two noble mages held with their own family, it wasn't good news. The child worried about her Tevinter friend, use to the easy-going, flashy man Dorian always was. The immediate anger that overtook his casual nature with its sprinkling of general nervousness was expected, the man had explained his issues with his parents and their impossible standards.

”Madame De Fer requests that you try to prevent any lasting injuries to yourself, Lady Inquisitor. I agree with her, though I'm sure her warning implies more for your training.” Corinnthea's choice in training as a Fade Magic brought a strange proudness to Madame Vivienne, the noblewoman taking on the role of her private tutor in both noble etiquette, politics, and controlling her arcane connection to her emotions. When that all began, the youth barely had time to speak with her other companions, managing to squeeze in time to learn Elvish from Solas and Qunlat from The Iron Bull, now that she was established and making trips to places in her need. The young mage would be seen training with the Bull’s Chargers, dodging and twisting her way out of incoming shields, occasionally all of the Inner Circle mages would gather in the garden to discuss magic theory or uses of it in battle, it was the only way the Inquisitor could get them to be civil on something.

The brief trip to Redcliffe changed several things, Dorian’s father was there and Corinnthea thought she was either going to hurt the man or start crying with strong Dorian’s pain was. She convinced Dorian to at least talk to his father, which he did, and was informed to return to Skyhold. He wanted to argue with the young girl but complied, sending Solas as his replacement to the Exalted Plains. This turned out to be the girl’s plan somewhat, Solas had already requested something of importance in the Plains and Maker-be-damned if she didn't help the Elven apostate as soon as she could.

With the Dalish clan still in need of supplies and a dragon eventually getting it’s hide tanned. A trio returned to Skyhold, Solas missing from the company as the results of his request required his sudden leave. Corinnthea fretted over the absence of her mentor, barely concentrating on her lessons until his return in the middle of the night, her worry had brought restless nights of her walking the battlements and halls of the ancient fortress.

”Da’len, you should be resting, it is very late.” The young mage spun to face him, an apology bubbling in his throat before her arms wrapped around his form, Corinnthea muttering incoherently into his tunic. The mage sighed with some relief, guiding the exhausted child to the rotunda, where a chaise lounge covered in blankets sat. Madame Vivienne had a simple one imported and installed in the room while he was with the Inquisitor in the Plains. Both stood taller than their average counterparts, the two shared the discomfort of sitting on furniture too small for them to stretch their legs while their currently pint-sized Inquisitor had to climb into her throne before Judgements.

Corinnthea still clung to his robes as he explained his absence, eyes slightly bloodshot as she fought to stay awake. He would have chuckled if he wasn't the cause of such distress for the girl. Pulling her to settle against him, Solas slowed his breath, knowing that the act worked for getting the girl to calm from a panic attack then perhaps it would soothe her into slumber. Some of the scouts gossiped loudly about Corinnthea and Cullen playing chess together during his leave, something to ease their minds most likely, and her surprising victory against him. Solas withheld some pride when he heard that she even bested Dorian at the game, the Tevinter paying up some coin to many a person.

He didn't remember falling asleep but when Solas opened his eyes, his focus went to the dwarf quietly sitting the small table in front of the chaise lounge he laid upon. Varric was writing something though the Elf’s eyes were still bleary from rest, the subtle shift at his side reminded him why the mage had fallen asleep. A blanket was pulled over them, but the Inquisitor’s head of wild curls still poked through the top, her gloves removed but tucked into her chest to be hidden. Solas had let her be while in the Fade, watching from a distance as her mind conjured Skyhold, rebuilt and brightly lit. She danced and laughed, the music played tunes of the Free Marches. A large group of faceless individuals stood off to the side, the girl's uncle standing with them. Corinnthea's family, he concluded as the scene began to shift.

”Is anyone looking for the Inquisitor?” Solas kept his voice low, but it still made the dwarf visibly jump at its suddenness. The two men froze as their young leader shifted, her head poking further from the blankets as a hand stretched outward then settled on the Elven man’s arm. The lyrium brand jagged and twisted around her hand and up the exposed skin of her arm, Varric reached over and adjusted the blanket to cover the arm.

”Not anymore, Nightingale and I found you two when Ruffles started asking scouts and guards to look for her. I was commissioned to watch over you for when either of you woke up, while Nightingale went and soothed Ruffles’ feathers.” Varric turned back to his writing as Solas let out a sigh, observing how the child’s curly locks shifted and straighten before bouncing back to their original shape at his fingertips. The slight hum of the shard piece on his desk, the scratching of the dwarf’s quill against parchment, the occasional guard that would pass through the room as silently as they could manage, it all brought a sleep-driven haze over the Elf once more. Only for the dwarf to pipe up with updates of future plans.

”Once the banquet shit is cleared up, the kid plans to head to the Emerald Graves to clear up whatever mess is waiting there. She has some personal requests from Tiny, Ruffles, Curly, and the Seeker to take care of in other places as well. Helped Buttercup with whatever shit she needed. The ’Guests of Honor’ will be here tomorrow.” Solas hummed, brushing the short hair away from the girl’s eyes, Corinnthea’s face scrunched as her visible eye peeked open, the other buried in the fabric of Solas’s tunic. She stretched, moving to either get up or bury herself further into her mentor’s side.

”You forgot to mention what Hawke was doing.” As the two sat up, Corinnthea took the bulk of the blanket to wrap around herself, nearly submerging her face in the fabric. Solas got up to get some feeling into his limbs while the Inquisitor looked around the rotunda bleary-eyed and blindly reaching for her socks and gloves.

”Right, right, Hawke is sending Fenris to meet with our dear little Inquisitor here to help with her...training per se.” Varric eyed a guard that was making their way down from the Library. They nodded at the trio as they made their way through, the young mage had just shrugged out of the blanket. Corinnthea had somehow stolen a large linen shirt that nearly fell off her freckled shoulders as she stretched, hide pants hiked up to the knees that exposed small cracks of pale lightning that stopped mid-calf while her shoulders had several jagged cracks of various sizes darting across the skin. The freckles had their holding on her legs, arms, and any exposed skin even a few dotting her ears and eyelids. The torchlight brought the unnatural glow, that most elves had, to her eyes, the green mixed with faint blues and warm browns, just the visual alone had Varric marking down specific notes on the kid while she remained still, eyes closed as she seemed to contemplate her thoughts. Aware of what went around her but at total peace.

Chapter Text

”Josie, I-I think wearing a dress is-is a-is a bit much for a welcome banquet, disgraceful Or-Orles-Orlesian Baron or not. I don’t want to-to be someone I-I’m not, and I’m not a people person, especially towards-towards power-hungry nobles with too-with too much money for-for themselves.” The Antivan waved off the young noble mage, scanning the few dresses before her, each with their own spells of anxiety for Corinnthea. She only needed to look at the places where skin would show and look at her ambassador with wide eyes, her mind coming up with lists for each dress as to why the banquet was turn disastrous. Dorian, at the very least, popped in and became her ’Tevinter-in-shining-armor’ as he carefully explained why she feared showing off a little skin, a look of horror crossing Josephine’s face as the information settled in. The edges of her ears sore and red from her insistent pulling

”Had I known, I would have never had these dresses made! It’s too late to have one made new, so we’ll have to tailor one to cover! Dorian, you know fashion just as well as I do, I will require some assistance in this matter. Have Madame Vivienne called into my office, soldier. Corinnth, what would you say is your favorite dress out of these?” Having never been called by anything other than ‘Lady Herald’ or ‘Inquisitor’ by the now determined Antivan woman, Corinnthea had to process the whole situation for a moment.

There were four dresses modeled on stands for her each with their own color scheme, style, and fabric material. Two of them were immediately out of the question, the odd shades of pink and purple reminded the mage of a horrid dream that involved a nug while the other held a harsh reminder of her would-be mother. The Castellar family colors were of the same as the dress, fine reds and oranges burned brightly in the sun like fire, a harsh reminder of a woman and her family that would never accept the young mage as her own. Looking at the other two dresses, one of pale greens and sharp browns with a hint of gold for an accent, the other resembling the Storm Coast with its whites, and blues. Both were subtle, more-so Ferelden and Free Marches styled than Orlesian or Antivan, though as much as the youth was inclined to wear the green one out of respect for her house. It had an exposed back with no sleeves and the bustline was close to scandalous.

”The-the blue one, easier to-to cover up and I-I enjoy the idea of an-of an awaiting storm. The-the storm being me, ob-obviously.” The stutter had reared its ugly head after a rather rough conversation with the Commander earlier that morning, witnessing him lash out from lyrium withdrawal brought up not-so pleasant memories accompanied by the vocal hiccup. Cullen, whose guilt showed heavily in his mind, had apologized profusely earlier, but the damage had already been done, ’a temporary set-back’ Varric had consoled her about it, something everyone went through, but she couldn’t afford to do so with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Dorian patted the newly shaved side of her head as the two claimed to have the situation under control, guiding her out of Josephine’s office as Vivienne approached the door. The Madame moved a curl with a gentle smile, having been one of two to understand the things Corinnthea missed from the Free Marches and despite how close the youth was to Varric, some of the things were for Free Marches women exclusively even at twelve years old, the young mage still had yet to grow into an adult. Her cheeks still held their baby fat, she was the shortest member of the Inner Circle, and despite all of her training, Corinnthea struggled with certain spells that were essential to her repertoire.

”I had something brought in from the markets of Ostwick, Darling. Its awaiting you in your chambers, consider it an early gift for your name day.” The mentions of a gift drew a great smile to the young girl's face, a quick thanks to the Madame as she rushed off to her quarters. Dorian and Josephine both raised an eyebrow at the scene before them, the Inquisitor had called Vivienne ’Aunty’ in her native tongue before scurrying off. At the most, when the Tevinter revealed their distant relationship, he gained ’Cousin’ as part of his title. Other members of the circle had nicknames as well, most that were not as well known or said very often, though there was a rumor of The Iron Bull’s nickname being something atrocious.

~~

Josephine and Cullen waited patiently in the courtyard as guards prepared to open the gates for the carriages of the Inquisitor’s family and the Baron Da Filicaia with Marchioness Maurer, Corinnthea turned up missing as scouts and guards scaled the fortress to find her. Until the clicking of heeled shoes on the stone stairs got the two’s attention, there rushing down the steps was their young leader...in a dress? There were dark brown leggings and black boots visible from the dark green dress with the skirt splitted on both sides, a tan leather bodice matched the well-made gloves that went to her elbows while a cream scarf of fine material sat around her neck. Her curls were left alone, bouncing as the youth rushed across the courtyard to the advisors’ sides

”Sorry-sorry, the-the bodice it-it wouldn’t…” Corinnthea paused before letting out a sigh, deflating from the obvious hole punched into her self-esteem in her speaking capabilities. Cullen opened his mouth to apologize once more when the sound of hooves against stones drew the the trio’s attention to the opening gates. The jade banner of House Trevelyan flapped in the breeze as the carriage rounded and came to a stop, an older gentleman stepping out. His face held few wrinkles that his greying brown hair gave away his age, blue eyes steeled as they moved across the courtyard before finding the awaiting trio before growing warm with his demeanor. He stepped down from the carriage with a dramatic wave of his arm, a grand warm smile stretching his features as he laughed. Aaran was as grandstanding as Corinnthea had mentioned even more of a mother hen than anyone else was as he lifted the young mage off her feet with his embrace.

”Corinnthea, my darling child! You have grown so much since I last saw you-ah! Du hast eine Narbe, meine süße Rose!” The faintest hint of tears built in the youth’s eyes as her uncle continued to fret over her well-being, her wrapping her arms around his shoulders made him paused, the kind smile growing back. He went to greet Josephine and Cullen, leaving the young mage to face off with the two other men waiting for their uncle to step away from her.

Joseph was tall and board, built like a warrior with slight indications of being a father, ’a splitting image of your father before the twins came’ Aaran would write. Thick, dark red curls pulled into a low ponytail made the trademark blue-green Trevelyan eyes stand out from his sharp feature as he wore a similar color scheme to their uncle though with richer browns than greens. Percival was...different, not odd, but different. He was a bit shorter than Joseph and leaner, being unnaturally pale in every aspect of his features. Snow blonde hair, pale skin with a pinkish hue to his ears and cheeks, sporting the signature curls and a dusting of freckles showed brightly from the navy blues and brown he donned himself in with thick glasses resting on his pointed nose.

”H-hallo, Brüder…” The young mage forced a kind and polite smile to her older siblings, unable to look the two in the eyes as they made their way up to her. Joseph reached out and lifted Corinnthea’s chin, a dimple appearing as he smiled. A sense of joy seeped into his being as he pulled his younger siblings into his arms, Percival going from an inkling of mischief to shock before settling into content.

”I remember the day you appeared at our door, swaddled in cotton and staring up at everyone with those big green eyes. Mother wanted to leave you to the Dalish, still thinking they were savages that ate human children.” The three siblings chuckled at the story, Percival ruffling his sister’s hair with a cheeky grin of mischief. He brought up the gifts the Trevelyan siblings sent and asked if they survived the attack on Haven, the brothers watching their baby sister spring out of her shell as she retold the story and showed the scarf to them, the gift from Thomas that brought an aura of childlike innocence to her being despite the horrors she spoke of. Even with some slip-ups of a foul word or her stutter tripping her tongue, the tale came to a close as a second carriage made its way through. It was ostentatious and expensive looking as painted gold shined in the sun, royally obnoxious colors of the Baron’s family crest catching and blinding those who look to investigate the oddity that came through the gates.

”Baron Da Filicaia and Marchioness Mauer, welcome to-to Skyhold.” With her bow covering up the flinch, Corinnthea put on the mask of a gracious innkeeper, walking straight and as tall as she could muster while showing her family and the Orlesian guests the ancient fortress and the hidden beauty that was underway. Her pride peaking somewhat when showing the herb gardens and the rare plants she had collected over her travels, the main hall was still being cleaned up for the banquet though the view of the tapestries and stained glass windows was still beautiful with the afternoon sun. Allowing the Baron, Marchioness, and her family to settle in their guest chambers, she went over the tavern to sit with the Chargers, hiding behind Bull’s bulk from the doorway and quietly sip at a mix of the weakest, watered down alcohol the tavern had and herbal tea. The rowdy band of mercenaries brought a smile to her face, Krem having a comforting hand at the girl’s back while the Ben-Hassarath told his shitty jokes and stories of their previous jobs.

”Soo this is where you snuck off to, Spätzchen? Not quite the place I’d imagine you in.” With a sharp turn, a spell ready in hand, the young mage met face to face with her pale older brother. The flames of arcane energy reflected in his glasses as Percival seemed unbothered by the threat of getting his face burned, a confident grin wrinkling his eyes while his sister drew back with realization, canceling her spell. The Chargers froze in place, weapons ready to attack the tall pale man that snuck up and scared the very soul out of their Inquisitor, Bull had seen him coming but didn’t except that violent of a reaction from the youth.

”Percival, Makers’ Makel, you-you could’ve gotten hurt by me! Don’t sneak up on me like that ever again!” Anyone within earshot withheld their amusement and tried to quiet their initial choking of food or drink at their leader’s profanity, the shock, amusement, and mirth merged and melded in Corinnthea’s mind. Percival calmed his sibling by having her introduce him to the Bull’s Chargers, everyone settling back down while Sera bolted down the stairwell with a manic cackle to her, mischief following her like a shadow as she raced out the door.

Corinnthea eventually lead her brother around Skyhold, showing him the library and introducing him to their distant Tevinter cousin. Percival having an absolute ball with questions and discussions of topics that flew over her head entirely, though it seemed that the two were getting along fine. Dorian was surprised when she had referred him as their distant cousin, though her brother seemed not bothered by the information, immediately asking if he was a mage and what he had taught Corinnthea about magic. It spurred a sense of pride and curiosity in Dorian as he spoke of the teachings of all three of the mages in the Inner Circle, Vivienne’s noble etiquette and academics, Solas’s lessons on the Fade and some ‘Dalish’ teachings, and his own teaching in Fire magic and elite knowledge of magic studies.

”Speaking of nobility, it is almost time for you to be ready for the banquet. Your dress and Madame De Fer are waiting you in your quarters, Thea.” Dorian ruffled her curls before leaning to press a kiss on the crown of her head, then turned to head off to his own quarters. Corinnthea stood frozen, worried of her brother’s reaction, many of the Inner Circle showed some level of affection usually messing up her hair or patting her cheek.

Sera tended to put her in a headlock and dig her knuckles into the mage’s scalp or tug on her ears, the elf even dumped a basket full of wild flowers on her head and most of it got stuck in her curls. Iron Bull always had a seat open for her in the tavern, a cup of watered down alcohol and tea or Qunari hot chocolate ready for her. Dorian had his random kisses on the head and various book recommendations, while Vivienne always had a piece of hot gossip and Free Marches candy. Blackwall and Solas never openly showed it but the Warden often had small wood trinkets for her and Solas has a plethora of stories from the Fade.

Cassandra and Cole had difficulty with affection, Cole didn't really understand it but knew that it helped with keeping the youth’s mood up, allowing her to vent and talk through her troubles. Cassandra was very similar to Corinnthea, according to practically everyone with the two being awkward in their ways and the rough patches they went through in the beginning, the two were slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with talking about books or battle tactics, the Seeker surprised with the effective and unexpected ideas that the youth had. Varric had become Corinnthea’s go-to dwarf at the end of the day, his reading and being able to keep conversations going even when the young mage either doesn't know anything or falls asleep.

Leliana kept her distance for reasons of her own, Josephine assisted Vivienne with noble etiquette though otherwise allowed Corinnthea to listen to any of her troubles. Cullen often tried to keep his distance due to her history with Templars, but often he would watch her training with either the Chargers, her trainer, or the mages of the Inner Circle. That and their occasional games of chess or cards allowed for little inside jokes and a break for both of them.

”Well… I'm glad someone makes sure you get to be a kid once in a while. I won't tell anyone else if you keep my own secret safe, alright?” Percival reached out and ruffled her curls, walking her back to the main hall before splitting off to his own quarters. She knew her brother meant his secret Dalish lover that they both knew mother would hate and disown Percival for, during their walk she offered to a place for her brother and his friend in the Inquisition. That brought a smile to his face, guilt and pride mixed inside him as he pulled her into a hug, muttering how he and the others missed watching her grow up.

”Alright, let's get this...oh wow Es ist wunderschön, Tante!” The Enchanter smiled as she watched the youth circle around the dress, admiring flowing sleeves and lace work along the bodice and pleated fabrics of the skirt, slight ruffles to make up for the youth’s lack of a feminine figure. She stopped when she realized Vivienne’s waiting smirk as she glanced at the table beside the dress stand.

“There aren't any-any gloves set aside, I-I see shoes and-and…” Corinnthea stopped herself, digging her teeth into the fine leather of her glove until the Madame gently pulled the hand away, whipping away some stray tears that trailed down her cheek. Careful to not pull too quickly, she slipped the leather gloves off the young mage’s hands, the youth trying to keep still. The scarred hands shook as the Enchanter turned them over to see the brands that cracked through the freckles of her exposed arms and hands.

”Corinnthea, you are the strongest child I’ve ever met. What you’ve been through would have made most adults tremble in fear, but you have taken the obstacles before you and thrived, my dear. These marks? They empower you, they prove that nothing will stop you from doing what you believe is right.That is what I see, it is what Dorian sees, it is what everyone will see, darling.” As Vivienne looked up, she is met by vivid eyes of a burning green fire with a twitch of a grin on the girl’s face. The Enchanter was beside herself as she assisted the Inquisitor into her gown, fixing her hair, and adding minimal makeup to the mage’s already striking appearance when the door to her chambers opened with annoyed chatter from the guard standing post outside.

”I’m sorry but the Inquisitor is not receiving guests at this moment, please remain out here or I will have-”

”I’m the Inquisitor’s brother, I would believe there is something that would allow me to see her.” Corinnthea and Vivienne leaned over the railing and chuckled at the annoyance of both the guard and the youth’s eldest brother in a petty argument over orders and family leniency. Corinnthea finally stepping down the stair with Vivienne following behind her, clearing her throat when neither of the two men in front of her noticed her decent.

”I’m-I’m sure my brother can see-can see me now, sir. You have my thanks for-for following such orders, but the advisors, those within the-the Inner Circle, and certain family members do have leniency un-unless noted.” The mages managed to not break into mirthful laughter again as the guard whipped around and shared the same expression as he and Joseph turned as red as her brother’s hair. The dress fitted well, giving her boyish frame a feminine appearance as the loose fabric of the skirt and sleeves moved with her, giving the illusion of floating instead of walking despite the clicking of her heeled shoes on the stone. Her brother snapped out of the trance first, turning into the posh older brother he liked to make himself out to be, and extended a hand to his sister, an impressed smile making the dimple in his cheek deepen.

”Spätzchen, you will certainly make an impression on that Orlesian.” He paid no mind to the scars, offering his arm to her as he exchanged nods with Vivienne. The two spoke of small things, her studies, how she got along with her mentors and companions, Joseph’s son, Duncan, and the potential names of the new baby. Joseph hoped for a girl, who his wife named Serenia, though another boy was prefered by his son, who’d be named after their father, Leon. Duncan was like any other six year old boy, wanting to hear stories of adventure, Grey Wardens, and dragons, asking questions that leave Corinnthea’s poor brother puzzled himself of such out there topics, and getting into some trouble with the help of his aunts and uncles.

They stopped at the final door separating them from the rest of Skyhold, the young mage tightening her grip on her brother as she looked back at Vivienne. The Enchanter raised her chin with a smile, Joseph giving a similar expression beside her, their pride in her and the anticipation from outside the door allowed for a particular mask to fall, one of fear and doubt, one that had been her shield for too long. The mask shattered, giving her strength.

Chapter Text

The Main Hall was brightly lit as the sun began to set in the large stained-glass windows, colored lights decorated the room as hearths and torch sconces filled the dark corners the chandeliers couldn’t reach. Tables with various cuisines from all countries, Corinnthea could even spot some foods that the Dalish scouts, Dwarven merchants from Orzammar, and even some foods that Iron Bull mentioned he missed from Par Vollen! Despite the many Orlesian and other visiting nobles, there were still a large number of non-humans that wandered the hall chatting idly as they either avoided the humans or integrated them into the conversation. Though everyone stopped when the young mage stepped into front of her throne, the dragon’s maw brought a sense of intimidation to her that clashed with the blue gown she wore showing an aura of innocence while her firm yet welcoming stare seemed the meld the shock and awe of the room into something akin to...impressed.

”Members and friends of the Inquisition, thank you for joining us on this eve of welcome in these dark times. Tonight is not about business or any means of such matters, tonight is about being in the presence of friends or future friends.” Corinnthea gave a smile to her guests. “The friends we gather here to welcome to the Inquisition tonight are Ser Baron Salvador Da Filicaia and Marchioness Lisa-Maria Maurer from the Orlesian court, as well as Lord Aaran Trevelyan of the Ostick Council, Duke Joseph and Ser Percival of House Trevelyan. We here in the Inquisition, welcome you, to Skyhold.” With a curtsy, the hall filled with applause while the music kicked in, Corinnthea remained near the throne while the first dance played on, some of the Dalish coming up to speak with her.

They were of the Lavellan clan near Ostwick and the small clan they assisted in the Exalted Plains, they were surprised at first with her knowledge of Dalish and what bits of the language were recovered from before, the Lavellan was proud of her progress despite Solas being her mentor. They pulled claim that they were the spark that set off the girl’s interest in Elven culture, Valser had pulled some strings to allow his visit to Skyhold when the invitation was sent to the clan. He had brought a man with him that was similar in almost every way, aside from the different Vallaslin that branded the man’s cheeks and the white streaks of hair that was shown proudly. She spotted Percival starring from Aaran’s side at the group with surprise and worry as Vasler gestured to the man at his side.

”This is my older brother Venmer, he’s never been outside of the Free Marches and is the best archer in the clan.”

”I wouldn’t go that far, brother, there is always more to learn with the changing of the world around us. It’s truly amazing to finally meet you, Corinnthea, Valser had told me much of you, only good things I promise.” From behind, the youth watched her brother excuse himself and made his way over to the slightly looming group of elves standing around her. Curiosity and dread plagued his mind, piercing through the peaceful atmosphere in the room, the fine blue tails of his coat moved as he did while a mask of joy and mirth was applied.

”There you are, Spätzchen, your ability to disappear among a crowd is a gift and curse. Oh, I see you’ve found Enchanter Valser, a pleasure to see you again, friend, who’s your partner here?” Percival was speaking faster than normal while Venmer was frozen in shock. It all clicked to the youth while Valser introduced his brother to Percival, a smirk growing on her face as the two settled from shock to bemused with the scenario; a chuckle hidden by her hand as the group dispersed with Percival and Venmer going to the gardens together. Corinnthea observed the hall while she was still unbothered by dancing or guests, spotting Dorian and Vivienne flourishing in the groups they’ve gathered, Varric, Cassandra, and Cullen were all being pestered by their company, the annoyance of them was greatly countered by the discomfort of the nobles when they got too close to a Tal-Vashoth or Iron Bull and his Chargers, many of them standing as guards. Leliana and Josephine were speaking to few nobles while Blackwall and Solas stayed out of the limelight, Cole and Sera were nowhere to be seen, but the inklings of mischief and compassion were felt. Joseph and Aaran were being hounded by nobles, most likely for their relations to the young mage.

”Lady Inquisitor, may I have this next dance?” The sudden hand at her shoulder nearly had a spark of fire erupt from her hands, managing to suppress the magic when Baron Da Filicaia entered her field of view while straining to not accidentally burn the man when his hand at her shoulder slid to the shoulder blade on the opposite side. The instinct to shock the nobleman into oblivion was expertly covered up by her smile and acceptance of the offer, the hand leaving her to be offered as the next dance started, an Orlesian piece that Josephine had her go over twenty times with Dorian and Vivienne. Their height difference help with dancing with much taller people, the Baron being closer to Dorian’s height if anything, but once the music started she realized why the Baron had such a frail reputation, his dancing was atrocious.

Corinnthea was forced to suffer two songs of sudden turns, a too firm of a grip on her hand, and not-so-subtle suggestions of the Baron wanting her to meet and marry his son before her knight came to her rescue in the form of Blackwall. The bearded man was dressed well in the Grey Warden armor the girl had Harrit make for him, his hair was still a little messy but cleaner than usual.

”If I may steal a dance from the Lady Inquisitor? We have some things to discuss.” The Baron wasn’t too happy but allowed it with mock gratitude towards Blackwall. The two dance carefully to a classic Ferelden waltz as they let out a sigh of relief, Blackwall maneuvering them away from the Orlesian as the music progressed.

”Danke, Blackwall. I-I thought he was going to throw me across the-across the room during the last dance.

”I noticed. For a bastard that’s lived in Orlais, he dances worse than a gimped horse running.” The two laughed quietly, the song coming to a close as they separated with laughter still tumbling from their lips from the jokes and snide comments they made of nobles or what Sera was getting up to. A quiet snort from Corinnthea had them both laughing harder before dying down as they were approached by Jarvak, one of the young mage’s friends amongst the few children stayed within Skyhold. The tall, brunette Tal-Vashoth boy had his twin sister Nazula and their mother Pomona, who worked with Leliana. Corinnthea was used to his dirt-smeared face from training to be a warrior like Blackwall or Cassandra and the sweaty, dusty clothes he wore all the time, not the well-fitted dark blue shirt and black pants he adorned now with a clean face and brown waves left alone. Jarvak’s appearance simple but appropriate for the occasion, bowing when he stopped in front of the two, Corinnthea could feel the nervousness from him, but couldn’t read as to why he was since he trained with the Warden beside her often and they were friends.

”Ser Blackwall, is it alright if I speak with the Inquisitor privately? I wish to...discuss something with her.” Blackwall looked between the mage and his apprentice and walked off with a nod and chortle of wheezing laughter, leaving Corinnthea confused while Jarvak’s dark cheeks darken as he leads her to the library it being empty of its usual patrons. The music still echoed softly through the room as the young qunari stepped away from the mage’s side to face her, pulling at the ends of his hair out of nerves. Corinnthea reached to stop his hands, a furrow in her brow as to why he was so nervous.

”You’ve known me before I became the-the Herald, Nezula and you both lead the-lead the other kids after Haven. I...I know being without Nazula is hard but-but you can talk to talk to me about anything.” This calmed Jarvak a bit, taking a firmer grip on the girl’s hands, a small smile twitched at his lips as his eyes looked down at their joined hands, catching on the brands marking her skin. Running his calloused thumbs over the closest scars rushed shivers through Corinnthea’s spine, a faint glow emanating due to the low light of the torches. He looked up suddenly, determination overcoming his nerves as his sea green eyes locked with hers.

“I...I care about you, very much. More than I should, your duties don’t allow such relationships but I can’t keep hiding how I feel. I-I…love you, Corinnthea, even if you don’t accept my affection I just… I just wanted you to know, K-kadan.” The qunari boy pulled her hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles as the girl’s cheeks burn red with realization. Jarvak was a bit older than her and handsome for someone of his age, but as Corinnthea slowly pulled her hands away from his, she managed a sympathetic smile with a slow shake of her head. Bull had taught her what the word meant. She couldn’t lie to the boy, they were friends and she knew his sister would catch onto the lie.

”I’m...I’m glad that you-you’ve told me this, but… I don’t feel the same, being the Inquisitor has removed any thought of-of love from me. I st-still think of you-of you as-as a dear friend and perhaps when this war is over, you can ask again, Liebling.” The youth smiled before reaching up on her toes to press a simple kiss to Jarvak’s cheek before allowing him to guide her back to the Main Hall, the two making idle chat of how their training was going and what trouble Nazula was getting the twins into; their friendship restored. Once back in the hall, Jarvak excused himself and Corinnthea was swarmed away by noblewomen who had been waiting seemingly around the corner for her reappearance; only to question about the ’Ox-boy’ that was with her. A small fire of anger igniting in her as she defended her friend and verbally assault the women for such blatant rudeness to the people of the Inquisition, face blank and eyes gone sharp as a blade.

”Please excuse us ladies, I believe this song is one that all Free Marchers know. C’mon Inquisitor.” Varric pulled the mage by her arm onto the dancefloor, his regular open shirt replaced by a fine royal blue tunic with silver detail that was open like his casual clothing. The music was very familiar to Corinnthea, following the steps with ease as she gathered her composure only to raise an eyebrow at the dwarf for the fact that he was dancing and quite well for that matter, it made sense in her mind for all the crazy flips and nimble movement he and the other rogues were teaching her that his dancing was better than most. A smile accompanying a giggle bubbled from her as they spun and moved with the beat, several other Free Marchers dancing with them including her family and some of the Lavellan elves joined as well.

”The musicians couldn’t have better timing, your hands sparked, Freckles. Save that energy for the field, not for the nobles.” Varric managed before they switched dancing partners, Corinnthea ended up with Joseph who lifted his sister in the air briefly before going for another turn, a dark red eyebrow raising as he does.

”Do you even eat or sleep while you’re not saving the world? You feel lighter than Duncan and that boy loves his sweets.” The girl rolled her eyes at her brother, her skirt flaring as she spun in swift succession to the finale cord to stop in a bow. The night drawing on as her uncle managed to sneak her some food as the young mage was hounded by requests for dances or talk of items that were either personal, rude, or boring, Percival and Venmer appeared out of nowhere with shining eyes and rosy cheeks bringing a sly grin to her features as they covered up why they were gone. The Marchioness tried to isolate her from the others to ’speak privately’, but Cole popped out from the shadows and freaked out the noble before making her forget why she wanted Corinnthea alone and that she saw Cole; the youth was grateful for his timely rescue.

~~

”Inquisitor! So, this is how you treat your guest? Neglect them while you galavant with savages and scoundrels, you alone prove that the Inquisition is nothing but trouble!” The Baron stomped his way through the crowd as the youth was to announce her retirement for the evening, stopping at the foot of the stairs to the throne. His mask covered his emotion, but his voice and aura screamed anger and jealousy, Corinnthea simply raised an eyebrow as her eyes sharpened to blade tips. Squared shoulders with an innocent mask placed over her own anger, the girl tilted her head with mock curiosity.

’”Whatever do you mean, Ser Baron? I-I believe I’ve been a rather gracious hostess after all the Inquisition accepts all who volunteer; I do not see these’savages and scoundrels’ you-you speak of. The only person I see that is-that is worthy of such titles is you. Your infamous dept to your sister because you were foolish enough to lose your fortune in gambles, marrying off all your children just to-to reap the fortunes of their families, and not even thinking to use that money to help your youngest son’s illness! We are not the savage nor scoundrel, Baron Da Filicaia, the savage scoundrel is you.” Sparks betrayed the mage’s anger as they jumped around her arms, this didn’t deter the Baron as he marched up the stairs to stand taller than the child as he raised his hand to strike her, but was stopped by her own. The other guests watched the Baron try to step out of Inquisitor’s grip but was only able to step down a single step before beginning to plead for his release. Corinnthea eventually let the pleading, pathetic man go, the Baron backing away while clutching his wrist; the sparks from her magic stopping as the youth sighed.

”Guards, please take the Baron back to his quarters. It seems he has had too much to drink tonight.” The guards pulled the Baron away, the Orlesian silent in his retreat as the guests that stood watching the girl in waiting for her next move. Shock, amusement, relief, nervousness mixed from all sides of the room, disapproval and approval from those companions she could see as the child pulled the mask of a hostess up to conclude her night.

”My sincerest apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for the interruption. There are much food and drink please enjoy this night, but I’m afraid I must retire for the night. Thank you all for being here.” She bowed and promptly went her quarters, ordering the guards to not let anyone inside unless she gives them permission as she raced up to her room in a flurry of fabric and fade mist. Practically flying up the last set of stairs to her room, Corinnthea went into a frenzy to get the dress and makeup off then pulling a loose linen shirt and baggy pants. Panting, as she tried to catch her breath was when the tears started to fall, not out of sadness or anger, just frustration of the whole event. Everything was going fine until that damn noble ruined it all by setting her off.

”Das ist Quatsch.” She sniffled while walking onto the balcony that faces the mountains, the breeze chilling her flamed cheeks as the music from the hall drifted its way to her ears. A song catching her off guard, knowing the lyrics to the song.

”Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone, gazing at the people down below me… All my life I’ve watched them as I hide up here alone...” The girl continued to sing the song by heart, remembering her time in the tower after everything had changed. The musical and theatre hall was mere blocks from the Circle tower so the music was easily heard from her room or the library, the girl recounted the times where she would sneak into the courtyard just to hear the voices better during performances. ’The Apostate of Notre Dame’ was an Orlesian tragedy about a deformed mage named Quasimodo living in the bell tower of the massive Chantry cathedral called Notre Dame as the bell ringer. Revered Mother Claire Flora being his Aunt when her sister ran off to have a child with an apostate then died leaving the deformed baby in her care. The story was Corinnthea’s favorite since it featured songs as well as performance, even though she had never seen it herself, it was popular to the point where they performed it every few months or so. She memorized the songs and some of the dialogue, humming them when she would study or sit in the gardens.

Heading to the other balcony to hear the music better, she sang loudly, figuring the wind would carry her voice away, but some folk looked up towards the tower as a voice faint but beautiful, singing with the song that poured from the open doors of the hall. A trio of Tal-Vashoth prepared for rest stopped as the voice drafted through their window, Jarvak and Nazula racing to the window as they recognized it’s owner, becoming entranced with the melody.

”Everyday they shout and scold and go about their lives! Heedless of the gift it is to be them. If I were in their skin! I’d treasure every instant! Out there, strolling by the sand. Taste the morning out there, like ordinary men!” Corinnthea danced around her balcony in bare feet, her loose shirt moved by the wind and her dancing with a large smile pulling her cheeks. When the final note of the song came, she belted out the last word with her hands stretched outward while the wind blew past her. A smile wide and almost painful to her face as the girl wiped away the small tears that blurred her vision, bubbles of laughter escaping her while she shut up doors of her balconies to finally lay to rest. Dreams of her childhood, sneaking out to listen to the performances filled her with peace.

Chapter Text

After saying her tearful goodbyes to her brothers and uncle, Corinnthea and her companions went and cleared their way through the Emerald Graves, helping the refugees, stopping the red templars, and clearing out any troubles that came their way. Even as a new scar made its way to the side of her head, nearly taking off her right ear before launching a bolt of fire directly into the Templar’s face while shouting curses that would have made even Sera blush if anyone could understand what she was saying. Tears absent from her eyes until they got back to camp to patch her up, digging her teeth into her gloves while gripping Cassandra’s arm in a vice grasp; only allowing a day of rest before heading back out the field.

”Inquisitor, you should consider your health. We’re almost finished here, anyway.” The girl shook her head when the medic and Solas were done, unable to speak without her voice betraying her, carefully getting up to go lay in her tent. The group ended up staying in camp for three days when the youth nearly fainted and slept through most of the days. Having to fight a dragon with a head injury proved to be the worst headache in her history of all headaches, it triggering her marks to spark and strike the dragon any time the beast got too close to her. Once it was slain, the young mage concluded that they head back to Skyhold after a fortnight of tramping through the vast woods and clearing out the abandoned chateau.

~~

”Go to-to Emprise du Lion and clear out the Red Templar forces. Sure, don’t worry about being-about being ass deep in red lyrium or neck deep in winter’s wrath. Arschlöcher.” Despite being from the Free Marches, where winter is long and harsh in areas, Corinnthea was used to the perhaps two or three-foot piles of snow that laid on the sides of the garden beds, not the damn piles that stacked taller than Bull! Managing to track the corrupted templars to their camp, the sights of the dead and rotting giants that were growing the red lyrium out of their corpses brought shivers down everyone’s spine. The youth being forcefully reminded of Redcliffe as they approached the demon holding the templars capture, the creature trying to strike a deal with the youth with seeing her family or removing the lyrium infused tattoos the marked her, instead, she struck the demon with a blinding flash of lightning. The fight grueling as it was long, they eventually came at lone Templar at the edge of his life.

”May the Maker bring you to his side, ser. Your pain is over.” She silently gave the pray of the dead as she cast a sleeping spell of the man, allowing him peace before his passing. The true bullshit came when they had driven back the Templars from the quarry and rebuilt the enormous bridge that had been destroyed.

”Allow me to-to understand this, you want me, a girl who-who hasn't seen her thirteenth winter yet, to kill three dragons within the span of a-of a few days? You're daft, is what you are!” The youth would have outright struck the man if she had been able to lift her arm above her head, the mage’s shoulder had been forced out of its socket during the last battle in the quarry. Varric was still favoring his leg while Blackwall and Solas managed with several bruises and scrapes, and this Baron had the audacity to ask them to take care of it! Having Varric help her write some letters and send the three men back to Skyhold for a different team, Corinnthea had stayed in the winter hellscape for an entire month; writing reports and giving orders from camp as two of the dragons were eventually slayed and after going back the Emerald Graves to recover the broken elven sword, she finally returned home.

”Inquisitor, I have news from-”

”I’m not-not taking anything right now, please send any information you have to-have to my-to my advisors. Tell that to everyone, understood?” The scout nodded and scurried off, leaving the exhausted young mage alone in the stables with her mount while the Horse master giving her a concerned look. She waved him off and snuck back to her quarters through the kitchens, avoiding the nobles that whispered and gossiped about her or the news of her exploits in Emprise du Lion; there was still the judgment of the owner of the quarry who had knowingly taken money from the Templars so they could grow an abundance of red lyrium without trouble but had used the money to feed the remaining townsfolk. However, sleeping in an actual bed was far more important in Corinnthea’s mind than anything else having almost asked the guard to carry her up the stairs, but managed to reach her room and pull off her armor and boots before collapsing on top of the sheets and blacking out immediately.

~~

”Have you seen the Inquisitor? She was supposed to turn in her reports an hour ago.” As the scout explained what the others had told her, Cullen put together that the youth had gone up to sleep, dismissing the woman he sighed and debated on going up there himself to check on her. The girl was more than capable to take care of herself but with the reports and letters she had sent during her time in Emprise du Lion, he couldn't stop his worrying. He would check just to make sure she made it to the bed at least, he told himself as the Commander made his way out of his office and to the girl’s chambers, knocking the door just in case she was awake. After several minutes of silence, the former templar slowly opened the door, flinching as the metal and wood groaned in protest of the slow movement; he paused again waiting for any signs of the Inquisitor. Nothing again so Cullen carefully made his way up the stairs, finding the girl in question partially on the bed with most of her limbs hung off the sides and her light armor, boots, and gloves dumped off by the small sofa by the stair rail.

Having done this to his siblings and a few young recruits, the Ferelden man picked up and folded the scattered clothing, setting it aside as he figured out how to move the sleeping girl without waking her. Pulling his own gloves off, Cullen managed to shift the young mage from across the bed to a more upright position without her snapping awake and potentially attacking him. Pulling the blanket over the girl and stoking the fire in the hearth, Cullen prepared himself to sneak back downstairs when the lump in the bed shifted and a scarred and freckles arm raised from the blanket to form an offensive gesture his way, something she learned from Sera most likely.

The people that came to Skyhold often had an idea set up of the Inquisitor, typically putting her in the back lines of battle and a well-mannered noble, Cullen had heard it a thousand times over and upon seeing their ‘well-mannered noble’ flick an rude hand at her advisor had him in restained stitches. He nearly tripped down the stairs but caught himself and found his way to Josephine’s office where unprofessionally fell into a spare chair and tried to cease his mirth, failing ultimately when the rightfully confused Antivan woman asked what had him outside and in such a fit. She rolled her eyes with a smile when the blonde finally explained what happened up in the Inquisitor’s tower, Leliana eventually joining them as they began discussing the plans that the spymaster had overheard the dwarf and Tevinter mage plotting for their young leader.

”I find it endearing for them to go through such efforts for the Inquisitor, the reports she gave me from du Lion were...worrying, to say the least. She had gone through so much and to have forgotten her own birthday, is a fault on everyone’s parts.”

”Corinnthea was dead set on getting that place in functioning order for everyone, I doubt she even noticed. She’s as stubborn as she is intelligent.” They could all recall how when one trio was sent back with reports, in them was a request to send a specific team as a replacement, never placing the spirit boy with the Enchantress or the Red Jenny or having Solas and Varric along for less dangerous missions so they don’t ’drag her back by her ears’ according to a tidbit she snuck into one of her letters. It was safe to say that the two men seemed to fight over who had a stronger influence over both Corinnthea and Cole as paternal-esque figures in their choices and morals, which was even more amusing when the young mage would pull Cole out from the shadows to help her with tasks that she could easily do herself, the strange boy asking her questions while accepting that what he does with the girl makes her smile. Almost defeats the purpose of Solas and Varric’s squabbles, much the hilarity of everyone else.

~~

”Leliana, are you sure this letter is true? Out of the all the people in Thedas she sends a letter? The Inquisitor is going to react poorly to the contents no matter how we present this.”

”She deserves to read the letter, let her know. Yes, she will be angry but she needs to know that she’s been reached out to.”

”By a woman who didn’t even- Oh! Inquisitor, we didn’t hear you come in!” The semi-groggy mage blinked in confusion as Josephine hid a letter behind her back, having been visited by Cole when she woke up to meet in the Herald’s Rest once she was ready. Corinnthea wanted to check with the Antivan woman before heading out, for anything she made need to read right away, though the scene in front of her was more than intriguing.

”There is a letter for me? Who sent it?” The youth watched the two women have a very sibling-like glaring contest before Josephine let out a huff and handed Corinnthea the letter. It was sealed with the Castellar crest of her step-mother’s family, the burning red colored waxed a stubborn, hated stain in her eyes but kept her face neutral. The seal wasn’t broken to her surprise, most of her family’s letters were when she received them, out of caution naturally.

”You didn’t open it? I-I expected that you would since it’s Lady Trovanna, the woman hates my entire-my very existence along with the rest of her house. A child out of-out of wedlock when married is a-a stain on the Castellar history, you know.” Her voice was steady, amused seemingly despite her blank expression as she opened the letter. Josephine backed up with Leliana keeping within reach of the young mage.

’Inquisitor Corinnthea Trevelyan,

As you receive this letter I have traveled to Val Royeaux and sit in wait for your company. I request that you come alone, I want to speak with you privately on matters of the Trevelyan family name. Lady Trovanna Castellar, Wife of Leon Trevelyan of the Ostwick Council.’

Corinnthea sighed when she finished reading it out loud to the women, removing a white-knuckled hand from the paper for the limb to burst into flames as she shoved the letter to the spymaster and began pacing in front of the hearth. The burning hand trembling at her side as the youth tried to breathe, only to have to breaths come rapidly then shifted to near animalistic snarls. When Josephine tried to reach out to her, Leliana was quick to puller her back as Corinnthea stopped and swung her still burning fist into the stonework of the fireplace, a gust of wind from the impact blew out the candles in the room and swept back the hood on Leliana’s head. Silence filled the room as the light from the hearth gave shadows to most of Corinnthea’s form as she leaned on the stone, a simple flick of her hand had the candles reignite.

”Inquisitor? Are you...alright?” Josephine stepped away from Leliana’s side towards the girl, not hearing any response, the Antivan carefully pulled the young mage away from the fire onto a chair. The girl kept her head down while blood dripped off her fingers from the split skin of her knuckles, taking slow, shuddering breaths as Leliana came into her blurred vision with basic gauze and a healing salve while Josephine held her wrist still.

”Ja. I-I’m fine…” Corinnthea’s voice cracked, sobs shaking her body as the facade she held shattered and fell as the youth tried to bite down on her free hand to silence before it was pulled away by Josephine. Her eyes remained down while Leliana finished wrapping her hand, the sobs reduced to meager shaking breaths and sniffling as she leaned her head into the chair. Blue-green eyes that were once always bright and hopeful, now dull and broken as her gaze drifted to the burning fire in the hearth, ignoring the questions and touches of the two women leaning over her. A numbness had taken her as her vision is forced away from the fire by Dorian with a distressed Solas, Varric, and several others that her unfocused vision couldn’t pick out as Dorian’s mouth moved but jumbled words came from it. A throat-ripping scream from her mind overtook any words that were spoken as she remained blank on the outside but Cole could tell she was tearing herself apart from within.

~~

”Corinnth is taking a long time to show up, do you think she’s still sleeping?” Dorian rubbed at the faint stubble on his chin, reminding him to shave before his young cousin brought him out to whatever crazy, killer-filled lands they had to clear out. The Qunari across from him took another swing of his mug, shrugging as he slammed it unnecessarily hard on the table looking over at the door of the tavern with the Tevinter man. He and Varric, with some help from Solas, had set up a small party for Corinnthea as it was her thirteenth year in the world some days ago and she had been stuck in Emprise du Lion of all places! This was so she could act her age for an evening and to make up for not being able to celebrate her birthday, letting her take off the mantle of being their fearless Inquisitor for a few hours.

”The kid spent a month in that frozen wasteland, I thought she would’ve passed out before making it to her room. The nobles face when the mighty Inquisitor face-plants into the mud, ha!” Krem rolled his eyes beside Iron Bull, reassuring that the youth would make it having overheard Varric send the spirit boy off to wake her. The Mage let off a sigh as he looked about the room, the Chargers scattered about drinking and chatting while Solas sat away from everyone, Varric pestering him to play some cards while they both looked to the door as he did, Sera poking at him, Bull, and Blackwall as they all sat and talked of stories they’ve heard or been a part of. Vivienne refused to sit in the tavern, having already given her a gift and would allow the young mage to breathe freely when with her, at her own agenda.

”Pain. Rage. Betrayal. The hurt burns inside screams ringing in her ears. ‘Why? Why now? Can’t she leave me in peace? I have done nothing to her.’Knuckles bleed just as her heart does, the hurt twists and tangles, unable to pull it free without tearing. ‘Help me. Please help me, I can’t breath.’” Cole appeared out of nowhere, everyone at Dorian’s table grabbing their weapons as the boy continued muttering of deep hurt. It took a moment for the mage to realize who Cole was talking about, Corinnthea had told him everything about her stepmother and how she tried to isolate the youth from the Trevelyan family.

”Where is she, Cole?” The spirit only had to mention Josephine before Dorian took off out the tavern door, Solas pulling together what happened and catching up to him as the others had to pull the answer out of Cole before chasing after the two mages. What few nobles that remained in the darkened hall jumped out of the way as the two men raced past, bursting into Josephine’s office as Leliana reached to an almost corpse-like, unmoving Corinnthea. The women stepped away as Dorian took his cousin’s gaze away from the fire, holding her face in his hands as everyone else gathered inside the room, Vivienne closing the door behind as the commotion caught her attention. The dead and dull eyes that stared back even as he tried to talk to her brought the Tevinter to tears, Solas pulling him away while muttering something under his breath. Bull put an arm around Dorian’s shoulder as the mage tried to pull himself together, watching Solas run his hands over Corinnthea’s head as his hands glowed with a greenish light, a jolt of movement from the youth’s arm had everyone holding their breath.

”Get Enchanter Fiona here, now.” Sera was gone before Solas could finish his sentence, an unnaturally serious look on her face that matched how the tone in the elf’s voice. He had Cassandra help him get her out of the chair and onto the floor, shifted to her side as the elven rogue busted into the room with a distraught Fiona behind her. The older woman spotted her unmoving child on the floor and rushed to her side, tears rolling down her cheeks as apologies spewed from her lips. Apologizing for leaving her child, for everything she had missed in raising Corinnthea and saying more than enough times that she loved her with all of her heart. Everyone turning away to give the almost grieving mother some form privacy before a sharp gasp and coughing brought them back.

Their Inquisitor, no their Corinnthea coughed into her mother’s shoulder as the two clung together in each other's arms, Solas smiling as he rubbed the youth’s back. Sera threw her arms around the girl once she stood up, almost knocking her off her feet as Sera swore up a storm on ’scaring the piss out of everyone’ as everyone else breathed with relief as Corinnthea smiled meekly. Dorian pulling her into his arms, making a joke to steal her away on a vacation.

”I believe a few days of rest will be beneficial to the Inquisitor, I’m certain that can be arranged somehow, Ambassador?” Josephine immediately agreed to the suggestion, scurrying to her desk to make notes. Everyone expressed their relief in Corinnthea’s wellbeing before departing, many hugs and hair ruffles given and received before it was just the young mage and her mother left inside the main hall.

”Inqui-Corinnthea, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me, good night.” Fiona kissed her daughter’s cheek before departing, the youth filled with a warmth she had never felt truly, the love of a parent. This warmth stayed with her, even as she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Recovering from her shutdown was a somewhat slow process, even with the help of her mother and Pomona’s extensive knowledge of remedies, Corinnthea was hailed upon by nosy nobles, asking of personal questions between the youth and the Lady of the Trevelyan house. The questions drove her up the walls, the girl snapping at the questions before one of her companions would pull her away and distracted her from her flaring rage. Anyone with eyes could see the tenseness of the Inquisitor’s form, the forced smiles, the flares of Fade or fire magic that mixed with the sparks of lightning when a pestering noble or when nobody could hold a simple conversation without storming away or babying the girl.

”She’s gonna crack if you don’t let her out, you know. Killing a noble will look bad on everyone’s part, Ambassador.” Bull rarely spoke to Josephine, usually due to it being not necessary and the Qunari warrior dealt business with Sister Leliana more often. However in recent days of Corinnthea’s 'instability of the mind’, according to many nobles that had poked in their noses, has the companions and advisors locking the girl away from the world.

The girl claimed that Solas and Varric were treating her more like a child, Dorian being of no help either as he and Vivienne argued more on her needs than listening to her wants. Sera and Cole were out of the question as well as Blackwall and Cassandra, the youth claiming that the Warden and the Seeker had more things to worry about. Bull, Josephine, and Leliana seemed to be the only ones that could see how tightly wounded the young mage was becoming, while the Ambassador and the Qunari were the ones to hear of the girl’s frustrations. The Antivan investing in imported herbal teas to help soothe Corinnthea’s nerves while Iron Bull allowed the kid to train with him and the Chargers, despite his warnings from the others.

”If the Boss doesn’t do something productive, she’ll snap a noble’s neck.”

”Training with a group of violent mercenaries with little thought of the Inquisitor’s health and reputation is not an option. She will train with her assigned teachers, that is final.”

”That much I can understand, the Inquisitor came into my office after having a conversation with Solas which turned somewhat sour. I’ve rarely heard her utter such foul language but with what context I could understand, he deserved it.” Bull chuckled, having heard similar stories from the child mage about the other companions after she had let out enough anger to speak rationally. Corinnthea was well aware of the trouble she could get into with being around the Chargers but continued to train with Skinner and Dalish while sparing with Bull to get the rage out of her system. Bull could still see some weariness in how the young mage carried herself, sometimes too stiff or too aware of her surroundings, usually calmed by sparring or a few cups of her tipsy tea.

~~

”I believe that-that the Qun isn’t going to wait any longer for this meeting, I-I know Iron Bull is-is getting as restless as I am, stuck here. If it pleases all-all of you, I will bring Cole and Dorian, I know that they-that they will do their utmost best to keep me out of harm’s way, especially with the Chargers and the Blades of Hessarian around.” It took several discussions before the final one to convince the advisors to send Corinnthea to the Storm Coast with eased minds, even then the youth overheard Dorian telling Cole to never leave her side while they dealt with the Qun. It was expected, given how Dorian felt about the Qun, but Cole knew how wound up Corinnthea was, how much hurt she harbored despite being away from the cause. Cole stayed at her side, but as a presence of comfort and reassurance instead of protection, knowing his boundaries and when to leave the youth alone.

~~

”Hissard? You’re called ‘Liar’, Iron Bull?” Corinnthea knowing what Qunlat Iron Bull would teach her seemed to unhinge Gatt, the Elf sounded more irritated as the youth changed pieces of his initial plan, even more so as Dorian made comments and Cole did...well he did what he always does. As Bull went and conveyed the plan to the Chargers, Corinnthea asked as many questions as Gatt would allow her to, annoyance rolled off his being like the Waking Sea behind him. A mock innocent smile crossed her lips as she turned to get going, Bull finishing up with his pep talk with his crew when the youth got to his side.

”This will be dangerous, do your best to fight hard and stay alive. Chargers! Horns up!”

”Horns up!”

~~

”Haha! That brings back memories.” After taking down the last of the Venatori and Gatt setting off the signal, the group watched the dreadnaught rain down on the smuggling ships, Corinnthea keeping her eye on her Qunari friend. Despite Bull’s face remaining neutral, she could tell he was nervous like she was. Her chest tightened as the group started heading towards the Chargers.

”Call the retreat, Bull. Now!” Corinnthea watched Krem and the others run off while the Venatori focused on the Dreadnaught, Gatt furious in his words but a glare from the youth shut him up. They watched some of the mages still trying to climb the hill after the Chargers, giving Corinnthea an idea, a reckless and stupid one. In quick succession, she pulled off her gloves and shoved her staff to Dorian.

”Boss, what are you doing?”

”Something stupid, go check on your men, Bull. No excuses, just go!” With that she jumped and began sliding down the hill to the rocky beach below, lightning brought down from the sky by her hands struck the mages, their attention on her. Her heart pumped in her ears, the young mage thanked every deity she could recall as she dodged, burned, and killed every Vint in her way while taking any hit that they managed to land on her. Blood streaked down her face and body as another wave of mages began heading her way, a bolt of lightning struck between her shoulders as a burst of fire threw the girl off her feet. Her armor singed and slashed in spite of the healing potions and draughts of lyrium, blood stained the inside of her mouth and dripped from her nose.

”You're a fool to think you can stop the Venatori! Your death is now, girl!”

”Will you shut up already?!” With a sudden surge of power, Corinnthea called down the largest bolt of lightning anyone had seen, sparks of the arcane energy twisted and crackled about her small form like chains, binding her to the sky. The smuggling ships stopped coming and eventually, so did the Venatori, leaving the young mage standing alone amongst a massacre of bodies and the damaged Qunari Dreadnought of the coast. With the lightning dissipating around her, Corinnthea bowed to the ship before turning and running off in a cloud of smoke as the dark ship turned and slowly faded into the sea.

~~

”And you let her go off on her own? Are you insane? She's dead for all we know!” Krem had disbelief set in his eyes, the men including his chief were silent as Stitches and two other Inquisition scouts patched up the wounded Chargers. Their leader had not only saved the Dreadnaught but also stopped the red lyrium from reaching the Venatori but for what cost? They figured the highest as hours went by and Corinnthea wasn’t anywhere is sight, Cole remained silent when Dorian asked if he could sense her. They were about to pack up and do a search when a member of the Blades of Hessarian approached them, determined but distressed all the same.

”Members of the Inquisition? The young Lady Inquisitor was found near our base, she was in critical condition when found and we’re doing everything we can to save her. Please come with me.” There was a small pause as shock ran through everyone’s mind before everyone ran back with the scout, Gatt being dragged along since he was to come back to Skyhold with them no matter what happened for discussion. Stitches and the two healer scouts were the only ones allowed inside the hut they had the youth in, the rest of the group pitched tents and kept watch of any danger. Dorian sent a letter to Skyhold to inform of Corinnthea’s recklessness and how the ambush went, going on to say that they would be waiting in the Storm Coast until Corinnthea was well enough to make the trip.

~~

”The Qun would have to take in consideration that the Inquisitor stopped the red lyrium ships from reaching the Venatori and didn’t let the Dreadnought sink, single-handed mind you.”

”However it wasn’t apart of the agreement.” Gatt wasn’t having any negotiations on how the ambush went, earning heated glares from the Chargers. The two argued back and forth before they were put to work in order to stop the shouting as the days grew into weeks, Corinnthea passed in and out of consciousness to only spew senseless words before going back to sleep. Names would be in her rambles, typically her family’s names, names Dorian had heard from stories his niece would tell from the Circle, and ones that only Cole knew, the spirit boy saying they were important to her dreams.

The group took turns watching over her as her wounds had closed but Corinnthea remained asleep, Dalish and Dorian had tried to find her in Fade but they couldn’t reach for her like normal, like the young mage was hiding or someone was hiding her.

”Her songs have not silenced, but...the other spirits that follow her cry out. They call for her as the music hits a diminuendo, but she cannot hear them.”

Chapter Text

The warmth of family was something Corinnthea had only grown used when she left the Circle, though it came slowly building as they grew in Haven. It had only reached the youth when her brothers came and after her mother stepped forward. The warmth she felt at the moment, burned and the light in her eyes reminded her of the ridiculous trips to the Hinterlands and napping in the sun.

The bitter, familiar smell of elfroot invaded her sense before a sweeter scent brought a calmness to her form. The wave of fear and nerves hit harder than ever. Her hiss brought attention as warm hands to her cheeks, relief pulled the fear away like dried sap on the skin, slow and stinging. Breathing came in shudders as the sharp pain seemed to pull the mage’s mind in multiple directions as emotions moved and swayed around her, a heartbeat that wasn’t her own pounded in her ears.

~~

”Your Worship? Lady Corinnthea, can you hear me?” The unconscious mage struggled weakly under Krem’s hands, her face scrunching in his hold as the warrior rubbed his calloused thumbs at the tears falling down her temples. Calling for Dalish when the youth continued to struggle against him, refusing to open her eyes and see. The elven woman began casting a healing spell when Corinnthea gasped, eyes flying open and hands grabbing at the bandages around her chest, her back arching off the bed. The angry marks that covered her arms sparked and lit up the hut, Krem was pulled away by his elven companion, Dalish spouted colorful words in her native tongue as she pried the girl’s hands away.

Bull had the door thrown off its hinges when a shrill scream rang from the small hut, to see the blank, blind eyes of the young mage with a face twisted in pain. Dalish held her hands to prevent the child from clawing her chest open as Dorian and Cole slipped underneath Bull’s arm to Corinnthea’s side. Dorian hands glowed green while the spirit took the elf’s place, showing a hidden strength as he pulled her arms farther away. Krem sat against the wall near the Qunari, tears marked his cheeks whether they were caused by fear or Corinnthea’s state of being, didn’t come to mind as the youth eventually went silent. Everyone held their breath but Cole, who leaned close and whispered something to the girl, her eyes closed and her face relaxed.

”She will awaken soon.” Cole’s voice was just above a whisper but echoed in the shabby hut. “Her eyes will heal in sleep. But she can’t stay here, too many demons to haunt her dreams.” Krem got up from the floor as everyone filed out of the room, Dorian dotting behind to press a feather-light kiss to the curly mess of his cousin’s head. The Tevinter men shared a glance before Dorian left the warrior alone in his thoughts, the army had hardened Krem but seeing and doing nothing to protect a child, a powerful and wise-beyond-her-years mage, but a child nonetheless drained him of spirit. The powerless feeling dweld heavy on his mind, sinking in his shoulders as he sat down beside the bed, a shakiness to his breathing as the adrenaline slowly left him. A song coming to mind as Krem thought of things the girl liked.

”I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’re even there. I don’t if you would listen, to a mage’s prayer…” Krem quietly sang, not being much of a bard himself. Watching for any movement from the girl’s sleeping form. ”Yes I know I’m just an outcast, I shouldn’t speak to you. But still I see your face and wonder… Were you once an outcast too?” He continue to sing the song, the warrior singing lower than what the actresses did normally, accommodating for his subpar singing voice.

”You love that play, don’t you? I think everyone can hear you singing when you tend to the gardens. Your singing is much better than mine, of course.” Slow breaths and the gentle rain hitting the roof were Krem’s reply, the scare left him tired. He tried to will himself to stay awake, but resting his head next to Corinnthea’s, Krem eventually fell asleep. His dreams plagued by the screams of the young mage, watching her suffer without doing anything to help her.

~~

Traveling was slow as the Chargers and the Inquisition were weighed by the heavy cloud of guilt, fear, and anger hung over them. Corinnthea laid tucked into a cart, Dalish and another scout at her side with Cole popping in and out with supplies. Everyone was silent, only giving each other mournful and sympathetic glances while all still glaring at Gatt. The Elf muttered and glared from the back of the group, upset that he had to travel with them back to Skyhold while their leader was a breathing ragdoll that could be possessed by a demon at any moment.

Stopping in Redcliffe, the group decided to stay there until the Inquisitor was either awake or showing signs of improvement. The people were more than happy to help, the Tavern keeper providing a proper bed for Corinnthea. Things calmed down and started to lighten up when a messenger approached Dorian out of the blue.

”Are you part of the Inquisition? I have a letter from Denerim, I’m to give it to the Inquisitor directly.” Dorian raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he played the interrogator. “And if I was? What would you do if you got to see the Inquisitor? Not that you can, but I’m curious.” The scout seemed unfazed by his words, maybe a bit frustrated by Dorian’s words.

”I would deliver the message and by on my way, I’m on a bit of a time schedule. This letter wouldn’t have left the gate of Denerim if I didn’t deliver it.” Pulling the letter to show the Tevinter man, the scout showed the King’s seal before pulling it away from Dorian’s fingers. “For the Inquisitor’s eyes only, ser.” The scout’s attitude started to annoy the mage, bringing his own snap to the surface.

”Well, ser. The Inquisitor is in a condition were meeting her would be a fruitless task. She’s been in and out of consciousness since we left the Storm Coast. So, does this letter really need to reach her hands at this very second?” The silence weighed over the men, the scout let out a sigh as he motioned Dorian to follow. Once away from the public eye, the scout turned to him, debating something in his brain before sighing once again.

”You need a reason and I have one, but you can’t tell anyone that I’m here.” The helmet that obscured his features came off, revealing a tired man, blonde hair mushed from the helmet, stubble grown from the last time Dorian had seen him. King Alistair pinched the bridge on his nose, exhausted from the sleepless nights and the long journey, not ready to deal with whatever the Tevinter mage was going to throw at him for showing up.

To his surprise, Dorian seemed more concerned than amused, placing a hand at the King’s shoulder. “Are you feeling alright? Seem a little worse for wear from the last time I saw you.” Alistair wanted to laugh, cracking a smile anyway as he probably looked about as well as he felt. “I’ve been through worse, you can imagine the amount of trouble I’m getting into if someone pointed me out.”

Chapter Text

”With what happened here, and the stories I’ve heard since. The Inquisitor has been through hell, and I’m… I got worried when I heard she was injured in the Storm Coast.” Even with ten years gone by, Alistair could remember the times he’d almost lost Surana like they happen just moments ago. Seeing Corinnthea in her place had the king shaking the thoughts away, mage or not, she’s still too young to be going through all that’s happened.

"I understand where you're coming from, but have faith. If Corinnthea can survive a mountain being dropped on her head, then she can make it through this." Dorian forced a smile, trying to keep his fears from bubbling to his throat so he can spew everything to the king. He wasn't certain that she would ever wake up. Cole has been going on about giant sea monsters and drowning in blood since they left. Everyone had half a mind to telling the spirit off when he finally went quiet, only saying that their little inquisitor had stopped dreaming. All they could do was keep her wounds clean and hope for the best. Dorian kept his smile up for his own sake, as well as Alistair’s.

~~

Corinnthea sat in a clearing, dark woods surrounded the small area of tall grass and wildflowers. She didn’t dare to step inside the woods, least her nightmares came back with a vengeance. After a time, she couldn’t stop the thoughts of what has happened while she slept, how much time has passed? Hours? Days? Weeks, maybe? Corinnthea could feel emotions from outside the clearing, the wind carried voices that she recognized as her companions.

"Hallo? Halllooo? Sie können mich nicht hören… She had tried to reach out to them, only to be sucked back into the nightmares that waited for her. Pacing about the edge of the clearing when a thought hit her, rushing to the middle of the field.

”This is my own torment, I can leave if I please! Reißen Sie sich zusammen!” Corinnthea ran everywhere when it comes to traveling, most of the time it was to keep up with all the adults but it helped when she wanted to be left alone. Seeming to always be in a rush had people, nobles and scouts specifically, leaving the mage to her own devices. Eyes forward and darting between the trees, her feet carried Corinnthea as fast as she could will them, flying past the nightmares to her own salvation. Kicking and screaming if need be.

~~

”Dorian! There you are, something’s wrong!” Dalish snatched the mage’s wrist, dragging him away from a confused Alistair who followed out of concern. The elven woman as small as she was to Dorian, had an iron grip on his wrist as she swore up and down into both languages.

”Vishante kaffas! Will you tell me what’s going on?” Dalish turned and he could see the fear in her eyes. “Something’s wrong with the inquisitor, please I don’t know what to do…” The Dorian shook away the shock and dread, starting to drag Dalish along now. Pushed only by his will.

”Then we’ll figure it out there and not panic here.” Patrons of the tavern jumped out of his way, the door of Corinnthea’s room crowded by scouts and the other Chargers. Pushing past Iron Bull then Dorian understood the distress from Dalish and the others. On the floor, gasping with jerky, sudden movements, Corinnthea convulsed with eyes rolled back and silent pain twisting her face. Cole sat nearby, muttering to himself.

”What’s happening Cole? If anyone knows, it's you.” The spirit looked up to the mage then turned his gaze back to Corinnthea. Stitches snapped when her head began thudding repeatedly against the wood, ordering Dalish to start a healing spell.

”She was lost, hiding from her nightmares. ’The clearing is safe, but how can I go home?’ The fear kept her from awakening, hide her from the exit of the maze.” Everyone watched the young mage arch and convulse, gasping for air. “She’s reclaiming her will and body. Tearing away the fear, and the hurt. Move away, she will hurt you without meaning to.”

Once the two women stepped away from Corinnthea, she stopped, a shaking exhale escaping with the tension in her form. Only her hands remained frozen in a clawed position, eyes still open to stare blankly at the ceiling.

”Why isn’t she awake-” A roaring scream cut Dorian off, Corinnthea flying upright with bolts crackling up her arms, burning the shirt that covered her. Cole moved within seconds, catching her arms and holding them in place. From what those at the door saw before the spirit’s hat got in the way, Corinnthea’s eyes were blank, pure white and devoid of the warm green they all knew. When she fell silent, everyone held their breath as her shuddering breaths evened out.

Cole? Cole, wo bin ich? Ich habe Angst.” The broken, terrified voice of their inquisitor had everyone in mixed emotions that barreled their way into Corinnthea’s mind. Relief, worry, anger, fear, confusion, hope, joy. Everything mixed and punched at the young mage stronger than ever.

”Können wir bald nach Hause gehen? Ich vermisse mein Zuhause, Cole.” Dorian watched Corinnthea curl up in Cole’s arms, the spirit carefully picking her up and having her sit on the bed. The charred remains of her shirt curled and fell from her shoulders, ash falling onto the bed with every shift. One, two blinks, the blank eyes fell away, the clouds pushed back to allow green eyes to see the light.

At this time, Alistair decided now would be a good time to do what he meant to do. Carefully though, didn’t want to upset the Inquisitor nor the obviously protective guardians around her. He went to step forward when a large hand clapped down on his shoulder, reminding him of the times Sten would switch with him to watch, but this was The Iron Bull, if the king remembered correctly. Alistair sighed, handing over the letter he guarded so dearly from everyone to the Qunari and began to make his way away from the crowded doorway. Praying for the Maker to be kind to Corinnthea, for she had been through much and his heart would not stand for more torture on her part.

~~

”Corinnthea? You feeling alright now?” Dorian kneeled in front of his cousin, concern lacing his voice as he watched her suffer through everything then to trying to hide in Cole’s shadow. The spirit had a blanket pulled out of nowhere and settled it over her shivering shoulders, a woven blanket with vine patterns dancing across it. Corinnthea looked down at the fabric pooling at her sides and pulled the blanket tight around her, remaining silent with her head leaning into Cole’s chest.

”She’s afraid to speak, that all her words will not be what you want to hear. A hurt tangles and knots with others but… you won’t let me take it away.” She gave him a look, knocking her knuckles against the spirit’s chin. “Your hurt is what made you, you. Taking it away would leave a shell, a mage who would die before setting foot on a battlefield.” Corinnthea finally looked up at her cousin, looking much older than what she was. Eyes worn from everything she witnessed, both known and unknown to anyone, but a kind smile still graced her features. Reaching out to Dorian with her tattoos bared for all to see.

”I...I-I feel like-like I was struck by lightning, but-but also hungry.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he helped his cousin to stand, feeling her legs shake underneath her. She tutted her tongue. “Seems -that I-that I’m a newborn fawn, given the-the state of my legs.” Corinnthea could tell that everyone knew what she was doing, and were caught between being angry and playing along. Some chuckles joined with hers, but Krem… was less than enthused by her casualness others were too but his was stronger than everyone.

”Your Worship, I apologize for being out of line but,” Krem stepped into the room, brows furrowed in frustration. “You almost died, we all thought you did! How can you just brush it off like that?” He wanted to say more, but fell silent when Corinnthea raised her hand, the smile gone from her face, a hollowness in her eyes that sucked the warmth out of the air. A tense silence hung in the room, suffocating to some.

”To-to dwell on my-on my past would suffocate m-me. The fast-faster I-I can move-move on, the sooner I can- I can- I am to recover.” Dorian kept her upright as they moved about the room, Corinnthea slowly getting her legs back. The Chargers slowly filtered out as the crisis was over, leaving Iron Bull, Dalish, Krem to watch over their Spitfire of a boss walk around with her cousin, who was making sure she didn’t trip and fall when her legs gave out.

It was another day until they could finally move on, the innkeeper of Redcliffe was both happy and sad to see them go as they traveled into the night, avoiding the crowds of the day that would slow them down. Corinnthea was strong enough to sit up on her Hart alone, the antlered beast acknowledging their young mistress’s temporary weakness, taking precautions to avoid low hanging branches and sudden dips in the road that would jostle their rider.

”It’ll be night when we reach Skyhold, and that’s likely for the best.” Bull looked over as Corinnthea walked to his side, eyes drooping with exhaustion. They had woken up at dawn to cover the rest of the journey and even Dorian was sleeping better now that their dear Inquisitor was out of the dark.

”Can I- can I ride with you, Knuddelbär? Bitte?” Corinnthea rarely used the nickname outside of Skyhold, but it held such leverage over Bull that he didn’t think twice before pulling the little mage into his lap, tucking her head into his chest. “You may, Imekari. You need the rest.” Bull carried Corinnthea over to his horse, a War horse of Qun breeding, built to carry large warriors like Iron Bull. The pint-sized Inquisitor looked comically small on top of the war horse.

As the group reached the cold mountain regions that surrounded Skyhold, Bull wrapped their leader in blankets as she never asked to go back on her Hart, staying in the warrior’s warmth. Something deep within Bull’s aura kept Corinnthea from moving away, the lulling thud of his heart in her ear stirred the nightmares away, allowing her to sleep throughout the day. Her Hart, Rehlein, kept close to the group and off their harness, allowing the beast to wander up to their mistress if they pleased.

”She’s still asleep, isn’t she? Don’t suppose…” Dorian trailed off, jumping to worse case scenarios as he scanned his cousin the best he could in the darkening lights of the day. “No, just went back to sleep. We were talking earlier about her memories of home. She missed running in the gardens, chasing her sisters with a toad or rodent she found.” Bull chuckled at Dorian’s grossed out expression, shifting his arm to push Corinnthea further from the wind whipping around them, the gates of Skyhold ahead of them.

~~

Blackwall had been awake when the party guided their horses in, unable to sleep given the recent events. Looking up from his work Blackwall caught the small flash of ginger curls, tucked into the arms of The Iron Bull of all people. He could see the effect Corinnthea had over people, she made them feel like they’ve never done a wrong in their life unless she couldn’t move past that wrong. The young mage watched him train with Jarvak and Cassandra, cheering for them all in equal delight and arguing bets with Varric.

Corinnthea held many hearts in her hands, but could see only a fraction of it, a constant love was snatched from her at a young age. It stunted her vision of seeing and knowing how much the people of the Inquisition cared for her. Blackwall himself was wrapped around her little finger, he’ll admit it, as were many of the men of the Inner Circle.

Since the news of the Inquisitor’s injury and what transpired in the Storm Coast, everyone took the shock in their own way. Blackwall focused on his wood projects and training, trying to keep the news from Pomona and her twins. Varric went quiet, writing day in and day out and keeping to himself. Vivinne ventured to the gardens, having them maintained and cleaning Corinnthea’s chambers. Cassandra trained harder as each day passed, angry at the world and herself. Sera kept up her antics per usual, but they weren’t as bombastic as before. Solas… disappeared briefly when the news came, nobody knew where he went.

The advisors all took it in their own ways, Josephine confided with Blackwall on occasion, admitting that she had never worried about her family as much as she worried over Corinnthea. Leliana was always a mystery, no one but Pomona and Lady Montilyet knew what she was going through. Cullen was a right mess, being so protective over the girl made him so useless when she got hurt and he couldn’t do anything about it. And everyone agreed to try and keep it from Fiona, but it reached her either way.

”You haven’t gone to sleep yet, Blackwall?” Dorian rubbed his arms by the fire, pulling the man out of his thoughts. “No, too much worrying about the little one to get some rest. How is she?” No one was surprised when Blackwall started calling the Inquisitor ‘little one’, everyone had their secret nickname for her, ones that they only said around each other and in the absence of Corinnthea.

”She’s alright. The stutter’s back in full force however, and I know she’s expecting to be locked up in her room by afternoon tomorrow.” They chuckled at the image, the pouty face their kind-hearted leader pulls when the advisors hover over her every move. “Perhaps a stern talking to, but that’s a touch extreme, Dorian.” The mage shrugged, looking out to watch Iron Bull carry Corinnthea across the field, Cole and the Chargers dispersing away.

”I wouldn’t put it past them. It’s Bull I’m concerned about, he blames himself for what happened, I'm sure.” Having seen Corinnthea for himself, seeing her alive and well, had exhaustion seep into Blackwall’s bones. He started putting his tools, cleaning up. “If someone’s going to help him with that, it’s you and the little one. Goodnight, Dorian.”

Chapter Text

Within the dead of night, the grand hall of Skyhold was empty. Bull was thankful for that as he didn’t want anyone to wake up his Imekari and bother her with redundant questions. He wasn’t feeling up to dealing with them in the first place, a single glance from him had the guards in front of her door scrambling to get it open for him.

The faint smell of flowers and wood smoke hung in the air of Corinnthea’s bedroom. One of her handmaidens, or her ’friends’ as she referred them, was stroking the fire when he came to the top of the stairs.

”Oh. Is-is she…?” The young thing had tears in her eyes when she spotted Corinnthea’s face peeking out of the blankets. “She’s fine, just sleeping.” He spoke curtly, prompting the girl to gather the Inquisitor’s night clothes together and having the stern nerve to kick him out so she could change the little mage’s clothes in privacy. He waited outside the door for a time, thinking over what happened, what has yet to come, and the consequences of it all.

He disobeyed the Qun, according to Gatt, and for that he was Tal-Vashoth. The Qun was all he knew and now to have it not, that brought fear and confusion where it wasn’t welcome. Iron Bull allowed the Inquisitor, his Imekari now, to get seriously hurt and almost lost her to the Fade, and without her stepping in, he would’ve lost the Chargers. Guilt added itself to the sour mix in his stomach. There would be consequences to both, adding into how he sees Corinnthea now as his child rather than his employer.

”This is a fucking mess, and it’s all on me.” He muttered bitterly, ear twitching back to the sound of the door opening behind him. The handmaiden stepped out, wiping at her cheeks as she suppressed a squeak at Bull’s presence. “I-I thought you-you… Ne-nevermind, she’s sleeping n-now, goodnight.” Before she was out of reach, Bull grabbed her arm, holding out the letter the Denerim scout gave him.

”Have this with when you serve her morning breakfast.” As much as Corinnthea wouldn’t admit it, she did take her breakfast in bed and loved it. The handmaidens carried the food up all the stairs and they sit and chat before starting the day, it was how they became friends after all. She made them happy, treated them as equals when she’s leagues above them in rank. Something the nobles thought as weak, but it’s what set Corinnthea apart from them as a leader and a friend. Even as a child.

~~

"Der Mond ist aufgegangen, Die goldnen Sternlein prangen Am Himmel hell und klar; Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget, Und aus den Wiesen steiget Der weiße Nebel wunderbar." Corinnthea quietly sang the ancient lullaby, having woken up as the sun began to peak above the mountains. Frost building on the doors to the balconies and fog coated the vast plains outside the keep, the young mage flipped through ’The Tale of the Champion’ having read the story enough times to have most of it memorized. Her copy of Warden Commander Surana’s book had been saved from the avalanche, ’The Hero’s Journey’ was a simple title to the many stories that laid written within the pages of the book.

It had been a special gift from Arran’s trip to Ferelden after the Blight, he had held onto it until Corinnthea was sent to the Circle, sending it with her as a reminder that she wasn’t alone in her ideas of freedom. Corinnthea had almost prayed that another Blight would happen and the Grey Wardens would come and take her away, looking back now made her hum in amusement, seeing as she got her wish but not in the way she expected it.

"Wie ist die Welt so stille, Und in der Dämmrung Hülle So traulich und so hold! Als eine stille Kammer, Wo ihr des Tages Jammer Verschlafen und vergessen sollt." Corinnthea actively ignored the handmaidens as they peaked from the stairwell, knowing that they were listening to her. The mage didn’t usually sing around other people, but she didn’t mind the audience of her friends, they were used to her unfocused staring and forced smiles.

”You know you-you can-can come up now. Day-daylight is spare in-in these parts.” She smiled as they shyly climbed the rest of the stairs, a small tray being set before her with a letter to the side. “The Iron Bull asked for this to be served with your breakfast, Corinnthea” The seal of Denerim seemed to threaten the calm of the early morning, deciding to ignore it until she had some food in her stomach, Corinnthea quietly asked for updates on what she missed while in the Storm Coast. Wincing as the emotions around the room turned sour and somber, the youngest of the group aside from the mage herself began sobbing.

”You worried us all, Miss! Never do that again, please! Skyhold isn’t the same when everyone knows you're out there, brushing up to death and risking your life!” Corinnthea tried apologizing but it died on her tongue, knowing that she will likely comes close to death again and again as she plans to traverse the Western Approach and the Hissing Wastes. The food now ash in her mouth, Corinnthea forced herself to finish everything off and plucked the letter from the tray. Her name was written on the front, slanted and messy with ink stains dotting the edge of the envelope.

’Corinnthea, I am not the best with writing about things like this but I need to tell you, less it will drive me mad. I never met my mother, I thought she died when I was young, but events have proven things different.’

’What I’m trying to get at is that my mother is Grand Enchanter Fiona, and the rumors of her being your true mother have reached me. I ask for confirmation, if they are true, I will do my best to support the Inquisition in any way I can, if not, then I will still find a way to support your cause. I ask that you be careful and Maker show you mercy in the future.’

”King Alistair Theirin of Denerim.” Corinnthea didn’t know to shocked or annoyed, she has three other brothers already, Gods know how many male cousins aside from Dorian, and didn’t need another person worrying themself to death over her. She felt the paper’s uneven form, guessing that he crumpled it a few times before finishing it. Corinnthea stared at the letter, not noticing the handmaidens cleaning up and making their exit, figuring that the letter was very long or that she needed time to think.

However, Corinnthea already knew her answer and set to writing a response once she got to her senses. Hunched over her desk, writing as best she could in the fastest way as she had much to do, daylight was limited in Skyhold and there was much ground to cover in that brief time.

’King Alistair Theirin of Denerim, my Brother…

Chapter Text

”Guten Morgen, Schwester Leliana. I have-have a-a letter that needs to-to be sent to Denerim directly to King Alistair. His hands only.” Corinnthea rushed up the stairs, rereading over her reply to check for spelling and that her message was to the point. If Alistair had changed at all from becoming the king of Ferelden, then her writing would be almost age appropriate for her age. She didn’t see the equally upset and curious face the spymaster made at the sight of her disheveled curls and armor, acting as if she hadn’t been teetering on the knife’s edge of death meer days ago.

”And this letter is about?...” She asked, expecting some vague answer to squeak out from the child. Corinnthea had been fearful of Leliana since day one and had warmed up to everyone but her, not that she minded though it became taxing to interact with the mage at times. This time, Corinnthea handed the letter over with a simple shrug.

”Fellow bastards have-have to-to stick together, ja? I’ll see you in the war room.” Leliana blinked as the Inquisitor turned to the stairs, a smile on her face once Corinnthea was out of sight. While Corinnthea used a little shortcut to avoid the suffocating stare of Solas, she planned out in her head what needed to be done in Skyhold before heading west, then thinking on how Hawke was waiting for her and the Empress Celene’s invitation to the Winter Palace.

The last one had Corinnthea withering on the inside, her step-mother’s family are well-known attendees to the event and they hate her more than Torvanna does. The Winter Palace was still several months away, giving Corinnthea time to help the Champion and work in other areas that needed her more than a palace full of stuck-up nobles at war with each other like rats to food scraps.

~~

”Morgen Iron Bull, is Gatt still around? I-I believe there-there is-is some unfinished business to dis-dis- talk about.” If the elven man had tried hiding, he failed miserably with Corinnthea’s sixth sense of mood auras. Gatt’s distaste and anger bled like an open wound as he stepped from the shadows. “That we do, and I’d like to finish it now.” His glare was meant to be threatening, but Corinnthea’s smile threw him off. Frustrated, Gatt said what he needed to say.

”It is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our peoples, nor will you be receiving any Ben-Hassrath reports from your Tal-Vashoth ally.” Gatt’s glare shifted to Bull, who immediately put himself between the elf and his Imekari. “You’re on orders to kill me, Gatt?” Bull’s words were calm despite the crossness Corinnthea felt as she wordlessly watched the two. Despite what many onlookers thought was to happen, went the opposite as Gatt stepped away.

”No, the Ben-Hassrath already lost one good man, they’d rather not lose two.” He looked to the little mage behind the man he once called friend, almost trying to see how a little shem could turn one of the best spies of the Qun into an attack-dog at her feet, but thought back to the fight he saw on the beach. Eventually, Gatt bowed his head and left without another word, the silence becoming lighter as he disappeared into the crowd. Bull turned to Corinnthea, tension still present despite the main source being gone.

”So much for that.” He sighed, tilting his head down to look Corinnthea in the eye. “You feeling better?” To a stranger, the mage looked fit as a fiddle if a bit tired from the eyebags and messy hair, but the Inner Circle were becoming well-versed in seeing through their Inquisitor’s masks. They could see the haunted, thousand yard stare and the extra shirts that concealed the mage’s loss of bulk.

”I...I’ve been better, truly. What a-about you? How are-are you-you feeling with all this change?” As much as Bull allowed Corinnthea to be open with him about her troubles and he tried to stay open with her, this wasn’t the first time he’s thrown up a wall to deflect talking about how he felt. Corinnthea turned to leave as Krem and he started chatting of other things.

”Boss, before you go and face the war table, come walk with me. Just for a moment.” The tension was back and Corinnthea did her best to seem unaware of it, even as they walked up to the battlements outside Cullen’s quarters. Corinnthea paid no mind to the two scouts until they reached her proximity, and felt the cold malice rolling off of them as they struck.

They were fast, but Iron Bull was faster, striking one as the other threw a dagger to his shoulder. Corinnthea’s feet moved on their on as she slid under Bull’s arm and grabbed the wrist of the knife-thrower, her magic crackling in the air and the hidden blades on her wrists pierced through the armor. The infiltrator convulsed from the shocks while her other hand slashed across their throat, blood spraying the stone.

”Maker’s fucking balls, what the hell just happened?!” She seethed, Corinnthea’s heart raced from the adrenaline while she looked to her companion for answers. The second infiltrator hanging limp from Bull’s grip. “Is-is the-the Qun going to be a problem, Bull?” He shook his head tossing the corpse with the other, still twitching from the storm magic running its course. Bull knelt down to let Corinnthea fuss over his shoulder, the mage pulling off her blood speckled gloves and giving him full view of the pale, lyrium brands that cracked her skin.

”This wasn’t a hit, more of a formality. Letting me now that I’m Tal-Vashoth.” He grinded his teeth, his walls crumbling around him. ”Tal-Va-fucking-shoth.” Bull didn’t expect a hard smack on his injury, seeing Corinnthea glaring as she pulled on her gloves.

”Bullshit. Qun or-or Tal-Vashoth, you-you’re a good man, Bull.” Silken-soft curls pressed into the side of his face brought Bull to wrap an arm around his Imekari, unhindered by the string of the poison. “I’ll have someone clean this up and talk to Sister Lelina, you don’t worry about it.” Another hard smack to his shoulder, followed by a tug to his horn.

”You’re the one with-with a poisoned knife-wound, Knuddelbär. People are allowed to-to worry about you, Bull, and I know I-I sh-should try following my own advice.” A genuine smile pushing out her cheeks, a split brow raised. “Don’t-don’t start that, you’ll sound like a-like a certain Elven mage I’ve been avoiding.” The two walked back to the tavern, Bull signaling some of the Chargers to go do clean up as Krem and he go to the training field with a ginger-haired shadow trailing them.

~~

”Inquisitor, do you believe it's wise to go back to the place you barely escaped from? Or do wish to repeat last month?” The table stood split in the middle with Leliana standing with the Inquisitor on going to Crestwood while Josephine and Cullen wanted to send her across Orlais to the Western Approach. They had suggested bringing Cassandra into the mix which would be an easy win for the Ambassador and former Templar, who denied the mage’s request of bringing Varric in as her decision involved the Champion.

”Both matters are-are pressing, but Mother Giselle has-has told-told me time and time again that Crestwood is under threat of being overrun.” Corinnthea burst, having allowed Leliana to do most of the talking until now. “I-I’m capable of reaching Crestwood in days rather than the month it will take-take for me-me to even reach the deserts! By-by then it may be too late.” Silence fell over the room, Corinnthea’s words made her decision clear no matter what was decided by everyone else.

”Alright, Corinnthea. But you have to be more careful than the stunt you pulled in the Storm Coast, keep the risks to a minimum.” The Advisors all agreed on that and Corinnthea could feel it, despite this, she simply wringed her gloved hands, dried blood flaking off. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do-do my-my best to be more careful.” Corinnthea already pieced together who she was taking to meet the Warden and absolve of the undead from Crestwood. She just needed to convince Blackwall to go out on the field with two over-protective mother hens that took the forms of a beardless dwarf and a bald elf.

Chapter Text

”Did you not learn from the first time we went to the Storm Coast? I’ll be growing moss by the time we reach the village.” Varric joked, the rain soaking through everyone’s armor as they reached camp. Corinnthea snickered, imagining a moss beard on the dwarf. “Maybe you-you’ll grow a beard that way.” Humming at the image of Solas with long tresses of vine and Arbor Blessing hanging over his shoulders while Blackwall wheezed in laughter at the Dwarf’s expense.

”I’m glad you’re doing better, Your Worship. But we’ve got trouble ahead.” Harding’s tone silenced the group, Corinnthea walking with the dwarf as she explained. “I know that you just came back from a rough mission, so I ask that you be more careful on this one.” Harding spoke quietly, worry lacing her presence at Corinnthea’s side as they looked over the lake. Magic of the Fade rising from it.

”I’ll do my-do my best, Fräulein Harding.” With that, the group began their journey to the village, coming across Grey Wardens searching for Hawke’s companion, Warden Loghain. Corinnthea and Solas managed to convince Jana to become an agent of the Inquisition instead of joining the Wardens, the mages working seamlessly despite the tension that hangs between them.

”Did the mayor seem...off? To any of you?” Corinnthea asked idly, eyes trailing the dark outline of Caer Bronach. Herself getting an overly nervous aura from the man, too nervous and shifty for a man trying to keep his people alive. “Maybe things will come to light when we drain the lake.” Varric had barely allowed himself ten paces from Corinnthea’s side, paranoia coming off of him in waves. Solas was no better but kept some distance, leaving poor Blackwall stuck in the middle with an almost bored Inquisitor.

”The keep will not be cleared out by us just standing here. Lass uns schon gehen!” Busting the door down with a blast of fire brought an onslaught of the highwaymen, the ground slick beneath everyone allowed the little mage to slip and slash while calling down a volley of lightning strikes. Corinnthea could feel the stares of disappointment from two of her companions at the expense of her impatience, but carried on. She was smarter now, learning from her mistakes, and much faster than the chieftain that swung his weapon sloppily in her direction. A knife between his ribs with a shock of magic had the party staring as she moved about getting the flag up.

”What? I-I’ve been learning from-from watching the rogues. Metal is-is a-a good conductor for lightning.” Picking up the loot from the corpses, Corinnthea finally broke the tense silence. “Where did you get those weapons? I don’t remember you having them before.” Solas went first, and it hit that up until now, Solas or anyone never truly asked about the weapons Percival made from the mage. With the enemies gone, Corinnthea pulled back a glove to show the contraption in the torchlight.

”Mein Bruder, Percival, made-made them for me back-back in-in Haven. Invented them himself.” Corinnthea shivered, building the fire more as scouts and other Inquisition soldiers began filling the empty keep. Leliana’s informant was kind enough to bring along enchanted warming stones that the Tranquil made for journeys to colder regions, giving them to her party.

”The way to the floodgates are over here, Inquisitor.” Blackwall held the door open as Corinnthea stepped inside, keeping Varric and Solas apart from the youth with his own body. “Do you-you have any stories, Aufseher? I-I think I’ve heard all of-all of Varric and Solas’s.” Her hoping smile had the man recounting the Grand Tourney of the Free Marches, every detail he could recall as Corinnthea lit up with wonder.

”I’ve heard of the Grand Tourney, Aaran hosted it one year and said it was an event that can only be experienced! You-you’ll have to tell me more when-when we go home.” The two behind them watched with mild jealousy, Corinnthea had pulled away from the two since the Inquisition came to Skyhold, always off taking deadly risks with people the hadn’t been at her side since the beginning. Brooding in their own fashions as the little mage started growing up without their permission, no longer needed them at her constant side to guide her along.

The couple in the tavern didn’t help with the tension in the air, Corinnthea could feel the waves of devotion, embarrassment, and the lingering lust had her moving faster than what was necessary. Unlocking the door to the mechanism that operated the dam with a loud clattering of metal on wood as the door slammed open with the amount of force she put behind it. Jumping like a spooked cat didn’t help things as she skirted around the room to look at the large contraption in the middle, looking for damage or signs of Darkspawn presence.

”He said that it-that it was destroyed, but I-I don’t see any signs of-of damage.” Corinnthea tried something she only did in the safety of Skyhold, sensing the emotions of the past, similar to Solas’s lucid dreams, she could feel what was felt by beings on the past. Her chambers alone had a wide range of emotions to search, the small room should be a breeze.

Fear, Guilt, Sorrow, Regret… The onslaught of dark, negative emotions had Corinnthea almost drowning in her own spiral when a hand grabs her shoulder. “You doing alright, Freckles? Looked like...well, you didn’t look okay.” The buzzing feeling from his hand on her shoulder had her reeling back to the present as Blackwall turned the crack to open the dam, the roar of rushing water deafening as Corinnthea let her mind drift.

In the many months since the Breach first appeared, Corinnthea had lamented being the shortest member of the Inquisition, being smaller than most Leliana's dwarven contacts. It was now that she noticed that she was eye level with Varric, having been forced to look up from his chin back in Haven. Speaking with Iron Bull and Lady Vivienne required them to sit down or her to stand on some nearby surface to not strain her neck, much to her Tante’s grief when the little mage decides to balance on the railing, and Iron Bull’s amusement when Krem, Rocky, and Corinnthea all stand on chairs and tables to try and climb onto his shoulders. She’s only managed it once because she almost fell on her head and Bull relented just because of that.

”I-I really hope I’m taller than you when this is all-is all over.” She blurted when the rushing water fell to silence, the men all chuckling as Varric removed his hand to compare their height. “You’re getting there Freckles, don’t worry.” Varric allowed her to grab his hand and pull him out of the room, Solas and Blackwall trailing after them while Corinnthea discussed what was needed to be done one they reached Old Crestwood. Eyes coasting over the barnacle encrusted ruins of old ship and the village proper, a sign escaping her.

The trek to the village was silent, the damp ground and heavy rain had the party holding each other to keep upright, Corinnthea had let go of Varric’s hand once to switch hands in holding her staff but otherwise held tight. With the four of them connected, she could feel the nerves rising as they came upon the ruins, spirits going about their business like villagers.

”That spirit, it-it doesn’t mean any harm, Jungs. We slay-we slay the rage demon, they will leave.” She tapped her staff of the rocks, the little sparks from the blade hitting stone jumped from torch to torch as they moved deeper underground. The light from the fires were dim enough for Solas and Corinnthea both to glow in their own ways, Solas with his eyes frosty blue like his magic while Corinnthea just…

”Do I-do I remind you of Fenris, Varric?” Corinnthea’s glow showed through the rain soaked armor she wore, the same lyrium blue of the dwarf’s old friend. Almost overtaking the subtle green from both the mark and her eyes, highlighting her damp curls. “Yeah, but you have the better smile. And you don’t rip people’s hearts out of their chests.” A spin of her staff brought forth lightning to travel from her being to the group of undead ahead of the group. Her magic was different from Hawke’s, as was all mages’ Varric noticed from his time spent with several of them.

Dorian was flashy with his fire, hence the nickname Sparkler, and his spirit magic burned just as bright. Flare over practicality which worked well for him. Comparing that to Solas, who was deemably the most subtle with his magic. Half the time he couldn’t tell the elf cast a shield over him until something shattered it. Vivenne sat in the middle of the two, her magic performed to her will and wants, subtly and extravagance when it’s needed and necessary. The mages of his band of misfits in Kirkwall were fitted into these categories as well, even Hawke.

Maybe it was the fact that Corinnthea was young, or the lyrium brands had something to do with it, but her magic had a different feel about it. The dank and damp smell changed, the air itself changed as Corinnthea brought forth lightning from her being or from the sky when they were above ground. Fire danced about her armor while she moved with wind in her step, staff moving like water with her, blade and spell hitting their marks with efficiency rather than flare. Corinnthea didn’t seem like she was fighting, but dancing, performing on a stage to an unseen audience. Everything she did, every move she made, had its purpose and counted in the running up to the final act.

”This architecture, it must date back to the-to the Tower Age! Or-or earlier, maybe later? If Anele was here, she’d know for certain.” The furrow in her brow was from not knowing what age an ancient dwarven thaig was from rather than the demons that tried to cut her down, and it had her party members scratching their heads with confusion at how she was acting. It was somewhat strange that most of the Inner Circle was used to Corinnthea’s reclusive shyness and general worry, and now to see her idly chattering to herself while cutting down demons had thrown her party for a loop.

It wasn’t until they reached the Rift that Corinnthea became the silent Inquisitor, brutal and full of grace as she danced out of reach. The hole in the ceiling proved large enough for the youth to call down lightning from the sky, the Mark crackling with her magic when she reached to disrupt the Rift. With one final push, the Rift stitched itself closed with Corinnthea’s efforts, shaking her hand out as the adrenaline settled in everyone.

~~

”I don’t mean to sound too much like Aveline and probably half of the Inquisition, but you’ve been acting weird this entire trip, Freckles. What’s going on in that curly head of yours?” Varric managed to catch Corinnthea as she sat by the fire in Bronach, the child hadn’t sat still since they left Skyhold. She wasn’t surprised by the Mayor’s disappearance, quiet once they secured that the people of Crestwood were able to get back on their feet without too much interference from the Inquisition. The party was going to find Hawke and Warden Loghain in the morning, then potentially slay the dragon that woke up from them draining the lake.

”Hm? Oh, I-I guess I was-I was-um…” Corinnthea stammered, trying to find a way to explain her wandering, unbound mind. Being stuck in Skyhold, then lost in her mind, Corinnthea felt the need to be free and being let out since the dealings with the Qun and the consequences of her actions behind her, allowed for that. She fiddled with her gloves, having removed them to stitch a hole she found. The pale brands darting across the backs of her hands pulsing a faint light against the fire.

”Went a little stir-crazy, didn’t you? Hawke got the same way when he got injured like you did, said weird things too.” Oh how Hawke said things alright, the man always had quips, puns, and snarky comments to say in Varric’s book, but the unwritten? “What kind of-of things?” Corinnthea beamed, trying and succeeding at buttering up the dwarf to spill everything, which he did, getting her to laugh and smile like before. The young mage eventually drifted off, tousled curls brushing against Varric’s chin as she settled under his arm.

”She’s rests finally? I was beginning to think she’d stay up ‘til sunrise.” Blackwall settled himself on a box near the fire, whittling away at a branch with eyes flicking up to the youth sleeping under Varric’s arm. The Dwarf pulled the blanket over her shoulders out of habit.. “I wouldn’t blame her, all that pent up energy from laying in bed gets to someone used to being on the move. I’ve seen it before.” The two sat went quiet when Corinnthea shifted, almost falling out of Varric’s grip had he not moved her head to his lap, letting out a sigh as she stretched out and went lax again.

Blackwall didn’t consider himself to be smart, not in the like of Madame Vivienne or Dorian, but he knew how much everyone in the Inquisition cared for their Inquisitor. It would take a blind man to not see the smile on Varric’s face while watched over Corinnthea, nor how Solas sat off to the side, silent but watching for nightmares. They were both Elf and Dwarf of appearance and posture, now overprotective father-figures to a Human girl that smiled and worked her way into the hearts of everyone she came across. Blackwall only wished that he could be truthful with such a kind soul, having to hide in a way she did, behind a mask with many layers.

Chapter Text

”Maker’s Breath, you lot looked like you just fought a dragon… Why didn’t you invite me along?” Hawke huffed in amusement, having nearly fried the little Inquisitor when she popped out over nowhere, bright-eyed and smeared with soot and mud. He could feel the buzzing energy off the kid that greatly contrasted the lack of from the two strangers and Varric that followed behind her, reminding the Champion of a young mabari.

”If- if you’re in the area, sure.” Garrett reminded himself to rethink how he saw Corinnthea, since their first meeting was cut short by her tattoos, something Hawke wanted to ask about when they had time. From what he saw, they weren’t like Fenris’s at all, his were done by design and mapped out placement. The marks he’d seen at Skyhold were random, scattered, like they had been placed by an actual lightning strike. And Maker knows if that wasn’t the real case.…

”You are from the Ostwick Circle, yes? I can’t say I’ve heard much of it.” With such little light in the cave, Corinnthea glowed subtly, pulling a glove off to brighten the effect as they moved forward. “We- we were smart enough to stay out of- out of major politics, the past several Head Enchanters ‘ave been Aequitarians. Mein Großvater und mein Vater ‘ave been working to give- to give all residents equal rights and opportunities..” Varric managed to not snort at Hawke’s face when the man looked back for help, Corinnthea explaining how her Circle managed to stay out of the war with her native tongue sewn through it. Those of the Inner Circle have picked up on some words, like their chosen nicknames and words that Corinnthea can’t or won’t say in common. Josiephine and Vivienne gave up trying to teach the little mage how to say ‘squirrel’ or any word she claims to be ’too rounded’ for her to say.

”You are a strange one, Inquisitor. That language you speak is one I’ve never heard before. It’s refreshing, really.” Hawke’s chuckle bounced off the cave walls while Corinnthea tried gathering herself from the flustered mess she melted into. “Danke Ser- ser Hawke…” Seeing the little mage revert back to a shy, flustered thing had the party behind her go soft, feeling the warm emotions at her back, Corinnthea grew more tongue twisted. Coming close to wacking the men with her staff when they reached the door to the hideaway, pressing her cold fingers to her face to stave off the heat radiating from her cheeks.

Corinnthea walked in first, allowing her magic to search for Loghain’s presence, feeling the sharp sting of anger and confusion cut through the light mood as the sound of a blade drawn spun the mage around. The Warden’s sneer became questioning when he saw that the intruder wasn’t a strangely dressed dwarf but a child mage, and a battle-worn one at that.

”It’s just us. I brought the Inquisitor.” Hawke interjected, waving his hand to the supposed ‘Inquisitor’. Loghain clicked his tongue, not in the way most nobles do when they meet Corinnthea, his aura growing sullen. “Another child left to do what is considered impossible. Warden Loghain Mac Tir. I believe that we have a common cause, Inquisitor.” She offered a smile, a kind one unlike the many faces Loghain has looked upon in his ten years of being a Warden.

”I’ll take all the help I can- I can get. I know Wardens have troubles of-of their own.” Corinnthea straightened up, getting down to business. “I-I wonder, though. Might those troubles have anything to do- to do with Corypheus?” She watched Loghain’s demeanor change, a dark shroud manifesting behind him as he explained what happened, despite adding humor to try and make light to hide his pain. She saw it with many of the men and women in Skyhold and among her companions as well, even she had used it on some occasions. The humor frustrated Corinnthea since she hated prying into people, but it being necessary for her to get anywhere in a conversation with her friends.

”The Calling is- is a warning to the Grey Wardens that the-that the Taint will overtake them, ja? Are all Wardens hear-hearing it now?” Corinnthea read enough books on Grey Wardens to know what the Calling was and what happens to Wardens who hear it. “So the Wardens do something desperate, which is exactly what Corypheus wants.” Hawke and Loghain went back and forth with Corinnthea and her companions adding their input or remaining silent, the young mage making notes in her head to write down in her report for the advisors.

”Warden-Commander Clarel leads the- leads the Wardens of Orlais, Ja? What do you know of- of Warden-Commander Suranna, then? Is-is she?” Corinnthea worried about the Hero of Ferelden, remembering the fear and rage written in the ending words of Suranna’s book. How she wanted the Taint gone and to return to her friends and be with the one she loves, without the maddening fear of becoming corrupted. Loghain himself hadn’t read the book Vex’mial had written, dreading what she may have written about him before and after he became part of her band of misfits. After everything he had done, what good things could the elvish mage he had tried to kill say about him?

”She disappeared some time ago. It is possible she joined the other Wardens, although I doubt she would believe in such dripple.” Loghain watched the tension lessen in the young mage’s form, turning to speak with her companions and Hawke, for a second he saw Suranna in Corinnthea’s stead. The scarring on the ears pulled the image away as Suranna had very large ears, even for someone of her stature. The scars didn’t look like anything from a fight, they resembled torture of a time long ago, but the body and mind still remember the event like it happened moments ago. Something Loghain learned during the Blight that only happened with mages, Suranna had many scars while Wynne and Morrigan healed like everyone else did. A deep pain that few can understand.

”We’ll all return to Skyhold, less-less chance for delays. Caer Bronach is not- is not- not far from here, we can rest if need be.” With the simple command, the men followed Corinnthea to the hold, staggering themselves around her to act as a barrier. Hawke stood with Varric while Loghain stayed near the back, wanting distance from the party out of familiarity. He watched Corinnthea, the staff on her back accommodating for her size, the scarring on her ears as she pulled at them, the slits in the wrist of her gloves, how her companions acted around the girl. The mage pulling Corrinthea’s hand away from her ear, the dwarf going back and forth between Hawke and the child while the warrior took the front, being her shield. The flash of vibrant green that would peek back to make sure he kept up with their pace, always kind, concerned, and questioning.

”Welcome back, Inquisitor. I have reports of those would’ve died since the attacks started, the list is… long.” Loghain watched the initial brightness dim as the scout updated her on their assignments. Corinnthea grew smaller as more and more grim news flowed from the woman’s lips. “The-the village has suffered much, the least-the least we can do is- is help them back to their feet.” She handed off the reports and there she changed again, an air of authority and command while the child gave orders to party after party, being pulled away from the men in the midst of it all.

”She doesn’t get a moment to breath in this place, does she?” Hawke finally spoke, after the sun had set and Corinnthea still hadn't returned from giving orders. The men had settled around the fire, given food and time alone to breathe away from the chaos while seeing flashes of wild, orange curls darting to and fro, a stuttering accent unlike anyone has heard before rising out of the sea. Varric shook his head, a sigh coming from all of them.

”Don’t they realize that the kid is still a kid, and she needs to rest.” Loghain decided to voice his question, one that everyone has had on their mind. “What happened to her? Those wounds to her ears weren’t done recently.” A silence fell over them as their thoughts ran rappant of what possible darkness fell on their beloved Inquisitor prior to the Conclave.

”That is something to ask her yourself, what happened is not something we can or will share.” Solas quipped sharply, leaving the light of the fire. The silence weighed heavy on those who remained as the night continued. The noise of Caer Bronach grew soft with the rising of the moon, the men at the fire traded old stories, Varric’s tales being the tallest of them all. The moons climbed high into the sky when Corinnthea appeared from the shadows, tired eyes staring into the fire as she sat down with Varric.

”Th-there is other things we need to take care of here. The-the Storm Coast, I mean. Cassandra will be-be joining us to take care of some Seeker busin-busi-things.” She leaned against the dwarf, his arm wrapping around her thin shoulders. Despite being a small campfire on her own, Corinnthea still sought out the warmth of her companions, usually Varric or Iron Bull and in the early days, Cassandra. Dorian and his cousin refused to stand near each other in the Hissing Wastes, sleeping further from the fire than the rest of the party. The folly of fire mages, the dwarf chuckled to himself, letting Corinnthea’s little fingers find their way into the fabric of his shirt. Legs stretched to the fire, the young Inquisitor settled into his side, dropping off once she got comfortable.

~~

After the goodbyes from Hawke and Loghain, the party moved further up to the Storm Coast. Corinnthea ignored the worried glances from her companions as they passed the beach where she fought the Venatori and saved the Chargers, pushing on to the cave entrance Scout Harding mentioned. As much as Varric has said he hates the outdoors and every form of weather, Corinnthea had never been so tempted to send him back to Skyhold than when they reached the Warrens. Shaper Valta and Lieutenant Renn, almost reading her thoughts with their eyes as the three of them glanced back at her dwarf, clearly both in and out of his element.

Renn, like any other sensible person, doubted Corinnthea as being the actual Inquisitor, until she fought alongside him. Her height made talking easier and he eagerly listened to her bittersweet stories of her dragon-slaying with her Tal-Vashoth. Valta was more interested in the mission while asking the occasional question about the surface, mostly revolving around the mages and lyrium trades.

”What does your family believe? Are you Andrastian as well?” On the lift to the Heidrun Thaig, Corinnthea tightened the potions to her belt, blinking owlishly at the sudden question. “No, not quite, the Trevelyan’s ancient history was-was lost when Tevinter ruled our lands. We-we’ve recovered much but there is-is so-so much we may never relearn.” The conversation cut short fight the roaring battles with Darkspawn, Corinnthea’s ferocity leading her to gather the living flames around her in a wild, direct attack. Scorching Darkspawn alive as the fire danced around her, licking at her arms and feet.

”Bewegen!” The foreign word falling from her lips as she charged forward, blades appearing when Shrikes got too close. The furrow in her brow staved off the worried looks from her companions, the sharp green silencing their doubts over her mental state. The Inquisitor got things done, letting Corinnthea deal with the emotional downfall when her job is done.

”Hrrist-ah! Sie nimmt dich!” Corinnthea’s cry echoed as the final foe was struck down, cracks of lightning snapped and buzzed about her as she calmed down. Chest heaving as they set up camp, barely looking up when Sharper Valta approached her. Blackwall sustained a large gash on his temple, wiping the blood away as Corinnthea’s hands glowed. She hummed as her magic flowed, vision flickering, seeing a different warrior in the stead of the Warden. A different war, fighting foe until slain.

”Inquisitor, I want to know more about your religion, since it’s not the traditional Andraste or the Elven gods I’ve heard of.” The Shaper’s words cut through the false images, the mage letting out a shuddering breath, reality setting in. They were in the Deep Roads, fighting Darkspawn, and strangers sat around her, not ancestors of time long lost. “We don’t have th-them all, unfortunately. The one-ones we do have, we can-can only guess their true purpose.” The Shaper didn’t budge, Corinnthea catching Varric pulling out a quill and paper. She sighed, motioning for Valta to sit.

”So-so far we’ve found four deities and-and four Aufseherin, overseers. Wottan is the God of-of Wisdom, Patron of Scholars. What we’ve found is-is that-that he is considered a trickster and the most powerful.” Corinnthea took a piece of paper and scribbled a crooked crown with a feather through it. “Then there is Hrrist and Bhelay. They are-are married but the-their love is filled with conflicts. Hrrist is the Goddess of War, Patron of Warriors while Bhelay is the Goddess of Life, Patron of Mages.” An encircled sword and a leaf with a spiral inside joined the page, a line connecting them. Everyone at the camp listened, enraptured by the strange history.

” Bhelay had a daughter, outside of-of her marriage as far as we know. The Goddess of Death and-and Patron of Thieves, Ranna. She looks for-for lost souls, those taken and never found.” A farmer’s scythe was connected to the spiral leaf, four lines extending from the largest. “The Aufseherin are Hrrist and Bheley’s daughters, the-the overseers of-of the-the world, the elements, the inhabitants.” The basic elements were connected, water, fire, earth, and air. Corinnthea hesitated on the detail she remembered from Percy’s ramblings, one that might piss off the company around her.

”Sveviio is the Earth-shaker, Shaper of Dwarves, Aufseherin of-of the forge and stone. She is the oldest and strongest of Hrrist’s daughters.” Corinnthea felt the spark of pride in the dwarves around her. “Gendulle is the Wind-maker, taught the-the elves their magic, Aufseherin of birds and archery. The Second eldest, the kindest. Rottana is the Storm-bringer, gave the Qunari their horns. Aufseherin of Dragons and the ocean. A wildcard. They are-are seen fighting like their mothers.” Corinnthea looked into the fire, thinking of how her family commented how she resembled the imagery of the youngest Overseer. A woman standing tall with her sisters, fire encasing her being as she charges forth onto an enemy scratched out of history.

”Karra is the-the Fire starter. Gave a fire we all carry in-in our hearts, Aufseherin of destruction and rebirth. She loved everything Bhelay created, even when everything she touched crumbles to ash.” Another tremor shook the camp, ending Corinnthea’s story as everyone settled in for a rest. In her dreams, Corinnthea found herself among a group of strangers, their faces covered by shadows, arguing in a language similar to her native tongue but so strange that she could make out only little words.

”...Sie ist nicht...Welt in Trümmern...Karra!” Black overtook her vision as she was shaken awake, Solas kneeling over her with worry laced in his presence. “You were having another nightmare, dalen.” She sat up, hands still smoking from her strange dream.

”N-not a nightmare, but it-it was strange. Could you not see it?” With a shake of his head, Solas sat next to her bedroll. The fire had dimmed, leaving the glow of the apostate and the Inquisitor. “I was barred by something, you were not aware of it so it wasn’t your doing…” Solas paused, hands holding one of Corinnthea’s in their grasp. The gloves tucked under her pillow, the lyrium providing light for the two to see. Solas pulled the girl into his arms, Corinnthea allowing the Elf to baby her after so long.

Solas had never meant to allow anyone to get close, let alone the one that holds the Anchor, but Corinnthea, let it be her youth or her open, bleeding heart, she made room in his cold heart. This little half-shem, broken and abandoned by her own people, finding comfort in the arms of someone like him and the other broken people she’s picked up along the way. His heart sat heavy in his chest, torn between his what he wanted and what he wanted for this child.

”I never wanted this for you, dalen. A wolf walks in your shadow and you allow it to stand at your side, loving it like the rest of your herd. May he never bite your hand as you feed him…”

Chapter Text

The group didn’t speak when they finally emerged from the Deep Roads. Corinnthea didn’t know where to start. The Lieutenant's death? The Sha-Brytol? Whatever in Wottan’s name happened at the heart of the Titan? The open, raw lyrium veins gave Corinnthea a reaction, her brands felt on fire but she felt powerful. Fighting through the pain until they made camp, Valta understood that Corinnthea’s companions didn’t touch her for a reason.

”The magic is painful? Then why torture yourself in such a manner?” Corinnthea ended up giving her the short answer: She was branded with lyrium in her past and the open veins are reacting to it. Valta gave her a look, but didn’t push, seeing how uncomfortable the young mage became even bringing up the topic.

Valta's words still haunted Corinnthea as she helped Cassandra retrieve the Lord Seeker's Journal, while not entirely thrilled with returning to Skyhold, Corinnthea bolstered herself in what the War Table briefing had in store.

"Ah, you didn't fatally injure yourself this time, but Solas ratted you out on some risky shenanigans and for that we'll scold you like the concerned Advisors we like to believe we are before sending you off to another dangerous area to do all the hard, life-threatening work we expect you to do." The process became rather repetitive after returning from the Fallow Mire. Barring Corinnthea from doing what they need her to do is pointless and risking lives, but they hold that minor threat over her head with every misstep the mage makes outside of Skyhold. Ultimately leaving her annoyed and snarky whenever she does come back, returning in the dead of night to avoid running into Cullen and Josephine.

~~

"We’ll stop here for the night, and leave for Skyhold at first light.” Cassandra knew the Inquisitor would’ve pushed them to reach Skyhold, but the little mage had fallen asleep hours ago, leaving her to choose whether or not they pushed on. “Kid’s not gonna be happy we stopped, you know how Curly and Ruffles are with her.” The Dwarf and Seeker shared a look, seeing the Warden and Solas settle the child into her bedroll. Solas stayed at her side while Blackwall built up the fire, running his hand through Corinnthea’s hair.

”It is my choice, I will deal with the consequences. Corinnthea may be the Inquisitor, but she is still a child.” With that, Varric took first watch, observing how his companions spaced themselves about the camp. Corinnthea had little say but the group knew her well enough to lay her a comfortable distance from the fire, being a fire mage made her prone to overheating in her sleep which made her cranky in the morning. Solas had changed his sleeping spot a few times since the start of it all.

Back in the beginning, Solas slept away from the camp, close enough to be seen, per request of their Herald, but still far enough to be separate from the group. Now he lays between Corinnthea and the fire, his back to the flames, within arms reach to console her when a nightmare strikes. The others have similar strategies, usually sleeping near the kid or keeping contact throughout the night. Iron Bull takes the cakes by letting the kid sleep on top of him like a cat and Sera who insists sleeping with her feet touching Corinnthea’s, even though she’s still freaked out by her special touch of magic. Cole doesn’t sleep, as far as Varric knows, but he sits still as stone when Corinnthea falls asleep, a handful of curls while muttering to himself. It's the few times the Dwarf has seen the kid cry or smile, reacting to Corinnthea’s dreams.

Everyone else opted to sleep within arms’ length or close enough to not smother the kid in their sleep, lest they get set on fire or struck by lightning, neither of which have happened but still could. Twice Varric has seen Corinnthea wake up mid-nightmare and almost attack someone, a dramatic affair since it scares the hell out of her and everyone at the camp. Varric finally pulled his eyes away from the camp, waiting for his shift in watch to be over.

~~

”It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” Solas looked over the view of Haven, the Breach back in the sky as the memory from Corinnthea’s mind played out the villagers going about their day, the soldiers training under Cullen’s critical gaze, the breeze sending chills down the mages’ spines. “I used to come up here to think, when everything felt too small, too loud for me.” The child sat in the snow, unhindered by the snow and cold of her memories. “I used to think it was so overwhelming that everyone is counting on me, turns out I’m just the pawn they throw into every crisis and scold it when the pawn comes back after putting their life on the line.” Solas opened his mouth but closed it soon after, knowing words weren’t going to sway Corinnthea’s thinking, standing at her side. Spotting a spirit shaped Sera running to the dock and waving her arms widely in their direction, a chuckle leaving him in a huff of air.

”It’s likely I’ll be taking you, Varric, and Blackwall to handle the Wardens in the Western Approach. I can only imagine what lies in wait for us, the desert holds many wild and dangerous things. Before that, let me show you something.” Corinnthea stood as the landscape melted and warped around the two, the chill that they knew changed. The comfort of nature became stale, the smell of copper and burning herbs filled Solas’s nose. “This memory is still not complete, I can’t remember everything from this moment but… It’s important.” Thunder rolled above them as a younger Corinnthea stepped from the shadows, three others standing at her side, their faces obscured by darkness, all with their backs exposed and sigils painted on the skin. A voice echoed out, some words drowning in the raging storm overhead, issuing commands as the four moved to the center of the chamber, a pedestal a glow with a vein of raw lyrium in place.

The voice grew closer, words became clearer as a figure stepped from the shadows. Solas saw an elderly elf, slate grey hair moving with every step they took, watching the elder approach the young Corinnthea and seeing the two speak to each other but hearing the words traded.

”You are ready for this final step, my dear. I know you can become what frees us all. You are my greatest creation, Ma' nan' tarasyl'nin.” Corinnthea gave them a weak smile, the scene growing darker around the dreamers. “I-I will free-free you, like I pro-promised.” His heart ached at the pure admiration in the child’s voice, a voice untouched by the horrors witnessed by the girl Solas stands next to. The thunder roared again, winds howling as rain splashed down on both the raw lyrium and the subjects. Lightning struck the tower, every pass darkened the room, when a single beam of lightning struck the pedestal. Light flooded the room, blinding Solas from everything to be seen.

~~

Solas awoke with a shock, eyes snapping to the girl beside him, seeing tears roll down her face. The sun had begun to rise, Cassandra coming around the fire, seemingly ready to wake Solas up for watch.

”It’s just a nightmare, Da’len. Tarosa to em, sathan.” Corinnthea let out a gasp, hands taking their hold of Solas’s clothes as she shoots awake. Sparks traveled from her back to her arms until Solas stopped it with his hands, smoke rising from the two as Corinnthea began to sob.

”Your memory will return, but I fear what may come of it.” Solas soothed Corinnthea until the sobs became sniffles, everyone in the camp awake and preparing to travel, knowing that no one will be going back to sleep. Corinnthea didn’t look up from her position until Solas moved her to get onto Rehlein, her hands shaking as she let go, looking up with bloodshot, tired eyes that cried of an old pain. One that needed to come to light.

Chapter Text

Corinnthea sat up straight in her mount as the gates of Skyhold opened, a familiar red mantle traveling across the main field stopped as she turned to hand Rehlein to Horsemaster Dennet. Their eyes did not meet, Corinnthea couldn’t bring herself to do so, wanting whatever criticism to wait until the War Room. Though it has never happened, the Inquisitor wouldn’t put it past the Commander to scold her outside the War Room. She almost expected it after returning from the Storm Coast after dealing with the Qun or even after the events in the Fallow Mire, her recklessness and risky choices warranted her to be scolded, no matter how much it pissed her off.

”Welcome back Inquisitor, care to spill any details about that Dwarven Thaig you explored?” Dennet, no matter how dull or gruesome the details, made it ritual to let Corinnthea tell him the details that would be considered useless to report. The man has heard of everything from companions ripping clothing in the middle fights to descriptions of how an enemy had been decimated by their group or by the wildlife. Down to the small things, interactions, findings, and events that either make the girl tear up or smile recalling them.

I think you-you would- would’ve liked Ser Renn. Answerin’ all-all the questions he had.” She gave a soft smile, eyes watering. “It-it’s a shame what happened, he-he was-was a character.” Corinnthea cleaned off her gloves of Hart hair, having brushed and helped remove the velvet growing on Rehlein. “Well, if you hear yelling’ expect me-me to be back here. Have-have work ready for me, meine Schnecken!” Corinnthea had Dennet and Blackwall share a similar nickname as the two are often together and occupy the barn. Not telling them that she’s calling the two her little snails. Or that she stresses the garden tenders to be kind to certain ones, having listened to the gardeners from the Circle about what garden dwellers are pests or helpers. But that is her little giggle to keep to herself, having not explained to the majority of her companions what their nicknames mean in common.

~~

”Inquisitor, I have to ask. Why-” Corinnthea had pulled herself together enough to be scolded, which happened right after the doors closed. Her reckless behavior in fighting the Darkspawn and the Caer Bronach take over, the entire event of the Thaig has Cullen nearly as red as his mantle. Corinnthea merely stood and allowed the three to express their frustration and anger over her behavior, having heard the same dialogue over and over again.

”Now that-that-that’s over, let-let’s discuss our plan for der Aufseher in-in the-the Western Approach.” She huffed, pulling out some scrap paper to scribble without ruining the map, ignoring the looks shared by her advisors. “Did you even hear what we said to you?” The girl looked up from her notes she had managed to scribble down, pulling off her gloves and wringing them between her hands.

”I did. I-I had my ear cut off nearly in-in the-the Emerald Graves, it rings but I’m fine.” She straightened up, poking the scar which still gave Corinnthea headaches if she didn’t rub a slave Pomona makes for her. “I-I’ve heard you all tell me-me this time and time again. But there are-are some things that can’t be avoided.” She moved on, pushing the main subject back into place when the three would ask questions outside what needed to be discussed. Leliana kept her fellow advisors as they concluded the meeting, Corinnthea leaving without a glance back, doors shutting behind her with little care.

”She’s right, we’re being hypocritical. Sending her into battle then scolding her when she gets injured. We made her Inquisitor, and Corinnthea is taking her role seriously.” The two women looked to their Commander, who had gone silent. “It’s impossible to not worry if every mission almost kills her.” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, another headache approaching. The two women looked to each other and guided their friend to a chair in the Antivan’s office, Josephine brewed up some of the tea she saves for Corinnthea’s visits while Leliana settled the Ferelden man in the chair. Cullen allowed Leliana to remove his mantle and armor, brushing his hair away from his forehead as sweat builds.

”To take the worry and frustration out on her is counteractive, is it not? Drink this, it’ll help.” Josephine set the tea on the table near Cullen, taking a damp, cold cloth and pressed it against his face. As much as he didn’t want to hear it, he needed to. “We’ll see how things go in the Western Approach. Hopefully Hawke won’t influence our Inquisitor further.” The memories of Kirkwall have blurred somewhat, but Cullen could recall Varric telling him how Hawke had been injured and couldn’t help anyone until he got back on his feet. Along with how Hawke reacted to his companions scolding him for being so reckless.

Garrett didn’t have a temper like Corinnthea, he is a known snarky bastard with the ability to make anything and everything a joke. Cullen had never seen him angry until he found his mother murdered in their home, Hawke stopped at nothing until his mother’s killers were in the ground. Varric kept a number of details from the book out of respect for Leandra and Hawke’s request.

Corinnthea hid her emotions somewhat, but the advisors have learned to watch her, see her tells of emotion. Kindness holds a strong forefront for the young mage, even if she boils in anger or drowns in sorrow, Corinnthea remains kind. Almost trained to fool the people she speaks to that she’s never harmed a person in her life, but one word or tone can easily change that. Eyes grow sharp and deadly as her words, smoke of fire or the crackle of lightning would rise from her gloves. An underlying force waiting to be released, like a caged animal, locked away and the locks have long rusted.

~~

”We’ll meet you here, a-a camp will be set up temporarily until we-we get-get there.” Corinnthea sat with Varric, Hawke, and Loghain, a miniature rough map of the Western Approach with various marks and lines as the four discussed plans before Hawke and Loghain went ahead of the Inquisitor’s party. “The scouts have marked areas of-of-of interest, per my request. It might take-take some time be-before I-I return to Skyhold…” Being away from Skyhold for long stretches of time never bothered the young mage before but as it seems with Corinnthea growing taller by the week, she worries about cutting the mission short to be refitted to all of her clothes and armor. Including the uniform for the mission at the Winter Palace, which despite the many complaints of her fashion-forward companions, she had only one issue with the colors chosen for the uniform. Red. Torvanna would throw a fit if she saw Corinnthea in her family’s colors, something Josephine intended without thinking of the power behind the Costellar’s name and what they would try to do if such a scandalous thing were to happen.

”Naseweiß see your-your friends off, I have more things to-to work on.” Corinnthea gave the Champion and the Warden a kind smile, bowing out and turning towards the Undercroft, after many long debates and arguments with the Blacksmith. Harrit agreed to make an armor with growing room, in the months since the beginning of the Inquisition, Corinnthea had finally passed Varric in height. Well if the rogue slouched next to her, that is. With the long journey to the west, the mage didn’t need any mishaps occurring while assisting the Wardens.

”Master Pavus and you will really look like cousins when you get back, all the sun out in the deserts!” Dagna’s comment had the mage snickering. The Trevelyan’s either burned within minutes of being outside or tanned like their Tevinter’s cousin of the past. Corinnthea just knew she would come back with the strangest tanlines, now seeing the purpose behind those ridiculous Orlesian head pieces in the desert regions. Scouts native to the deserts gave scarves and masks to the party before leaving the last settlement before the great expanse of sand and wastelands.

One of the scouts handed Corinnthea a scarf different from the others she’d seen, all simple and one color. The mage almost didn’t take the scarf when it dawned on her that it had been handmade, until the man took it from her hands, wrapped and pinned the piece, and adjusted the fabric properly. A scar running across his cheek left his smile crooked to one side.

”When my mother found out I joined your cause, Maker rest her soul, the woman didn’t stop weaving the scarves you see around you.” He held up the hanging piece of the fabric to show the details and design. “This one she made for you after hearing of your lineage. The Trevelyan’s did our family a great service during the Blight, this is her way of paying back the lives your family saved.” Pulling a brooch from his pouch, he pinned the fabric in place, leaning down to Corinnthea’s height.

”Hrrist beobachte deine Reise.”Corinnthea caught a glint of gold as the man stepped away to rejoin the other Scouts, Varric coming up behind her to pull her back to their mounts. Rehlein wasn't meant for desert travel, leading Corinnthea to take on an… odd mode of transportation.

"I'm pretty sure called a 'Dracolisk' not a…" Majority of the words in Corinnthea's native tongue can be figured out through context, but some still fly over her companions' heads when they leave her lips. "Drachenpferd is what I-I call them. More literal than Drac-dra-draco-hmp..." Without explaining further, Corinnthea started on the path to the Western Approach.

~~

Without the Dwarf commenting on it, Corinnthea felt Varric's worry grow by the day with every mission and problem cropping up since their arrival to the Western Approach. After the capture of the Griffon Keep, the party set out to meet with Hawke and Loghain, the men eyeing Corinnthea’s staff with mild concern for the wicked sharp blades. Nudging each other to speak up until the mage turned to her group.

"You take point, I’ll guard your backs.” The fear and desperation hit Corinnthea first, then the smell of rotten corpses. Staff in hand, she marched on without a second glance, worry burrowing a hole in her back from the men behind her. The wardens standing before them were muffled to Corinnthea, the Venatori before her oozed desperation even as he sneered and played coy.

”Inquisitor, what an unexpected surprise.” He bowed, Corinnthea having to hold back a chuckle as he mocked her party. “Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium. At your service.” He went on with Loghain of how the Wardens brought this upon themselves, his voice grinding down Corinnthea’s patience.

”Somebody’s certainly a tool.” With that comment, Corinnthea stepped up, demanding the release of the Wardens. When Livius raised a hand dripping with red magic. A pain shot through Corinnthea’s arm, centered on the mark. If it hadn’t been for her own pride, Corinnthea bit down on her tongue, stumbling but staying on her feet. Livius monologued on about how she had stolen the mark from his master and how it works, all while Corinnthea gained her bearings and pulled from the veil.

”When I bring him your head, his gratitude will-” Corinnthea stood, a volley of lightning and veil erupting from Livius’s hand as she countered his magic, kicking up her staff and dashing towards him. “Kill them!” His pathetic order carried out by the Wardens, Corinnthea, while with a heavy conscience, cut down the Warden Mages with lethal precision. Making their deaths merciful and quick, as her companions joined her side. The battle over with the last demon fallen, Livius nowhere to be found.

”I know where he fled, Your Worship. An abandoned Warden fortress called Adamant. We’ll scout the area to make sure the other Wardens are there.” With a nod, Corinnthea watched Hawke and Loghain ride off, feeling the fear emanate from them mix with the corpses around them.

”We’ll head to Skyhold a-at sunrise.”

~~

The journey home managed to be an uneventful one, Solas and Varric keeping their worried glances and scolding to a minimum while they cleaned up some unfinished business closer to the borders. Corinnthea being a bit eager to get everything in order to march on Adamant, the lingering worry in her mind about who was or still is under the Venatori's control. The others noting her nervous hands, but Corinnthea waved them off. It's a major move, as much as she would like to be sure of her every move, she simply can't help but question herself. Each piece must be in the perfect place, otherwise her plans will fall apart. The war table had copious notes and scrawls in the young mage’s handwriting stacked into little piles, to be preserved, burned, or hidden once a mission is completed.

”Erimond called the ritual in the Western Approach a test. He may already be raising a demon army at the fortress.” Leliana pointed out after Cullen and Josephine gave the good news.

"But if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel." Though uncomfortable, Corinnthea knew that the soldiers knew what they signed up for, ready to die for the cause. Determined that she had finished what needed to be done, Corinnthea gave the word to march on Adamant.

Chapter Text

By the time Corinnthea and her companions returned to the Western Approach, everything laid in place for their march. It began slowly, a quiet movement before Adamant crested over the horizon, then the trebuchets began firing, arrows whizzing past. Soldiers falling, other shouting commands, all while the Inquisitor hid underneath Blackwall's shield, Varric and Solas staying close to keep her out of harm's way. Despite Cullen pushing Corinnthea to get to Clarel, she cleared the battlements for a stronger foothold, saving a few wardens from their corrupted brethren.

Erimond, slimy bastard he is, had Clarel fighting with herself as Corinnthea, Loghain, and Hawk all tried to reason with her. To Corinnthea's relief, Blackwall and her words settled enough doubt in the wardens' minds to switch sides when Erimond panicked. That damned dragon quickly became an annoyance as they chased after Clarel and Erimond, cutting down every demon standing in their way while fire rained down upon them. The pain and anger filling the air pushing Corinnthea ahead of her companions.

Turning the corner, Corinnthea's heart dropped as Clarel's body was snapped up by the dragon's mouth. Rushing to cut down Erimond, the creature flanked and dropped Clarel's bloodied body beneath it. Lightning cascading across its leathery hide as it lunged, Clarel's final blow before being swept into the chaos. The bridge waivered, the old broken stone shifting before falling out from under the party.

"Go, go! Move!" Everyone shouted at once, running for the fortress. Loghain picked Corinnthea up by the cuirass and tossed her ahead, his foot slipping as he fell behind. A thunderous roar of the bridge suddenly had everyone falling, in a last desperate attempt to save everyone, Corinnthea reached with the Anchor. Blinding lights fading to a world unlike anyone's ever seen.

~~

"The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?" Corinnthea shook her head, still not remembering what happened that day. Knowing the tear in the Main Hall still laid open, they were determined to make it there. Climbing the stairs, a reflection of Divine Justinia waited there for them, speaking of a nightmare that has been feeding off the fears and horrors of others. Only having a second to think before the reflection summoned spirits to help recover Corinnthea's memory of that night.

~~

Corinnthea wandered the halls, truly bored out of her mind when a sour, heavy pit began to well up inside her stomach. Something was wrong, very wrong, and she was getting close to the source. Everything happened so fast when she swung those doors open, eyes alight with magic when Justinia hit the orb out of Corypheus's hand. The pain surging through her when the orb weighed into her hand, bolts of lightning striking every nearby surface before the light blinded and rumbling stone deafened everyone.

~~

"Inquisitor Corinnthea Trevelyan, I wonder. Do your companions know who you really are?" A voice taunted overhead. Corinnthea rooted to the ground as its words echoed in her mind. "Wissen sie von dem Blut, das deine Hände befleckt? Der wahre Grund für das Leiden, dem Sie ausgesetzt sind? They will soon…" The voice cackled, leaving the young mage still shaking in her spot. Not in fear, as her magic crackled and smoked around her, in anger. Solas could barely open his mouth before Corinnthea marched through to the front, a single sentence heard that dripped of venom.

"I'll murder that fucking demon myself." The men kept their questions to themselves, as the voice taunted and insulted each of them. The little fears showed different to each of them, spiders to Hawke, a nightmare unlocked from the depths of Corinnthea's mind attacked them. Unlocking the memory of her escape set off an argument between Hawke and Loghain, in turn setting her off. The anxiety of her past coming back being overruled by the frustration of everyone arguing.

"You can yell all you want once we're out of here, until then shut it!" Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision, faces she had buried in the past now laid on the many corpses they passed by. Faces she hasn't seen in years, faces she had tried to forget out of fear of going mad. Solas had hints of what the Nightmare may have but the rest remained clueless and concerned as to what unimaginable horrors have scarred such a young child.

~~

"And please, tell Leliana that I'm sorry." The spirit of Justinia dispelled to towering horror as Corinnthea locked eyes with a familiar face, still bloodied and corrupted as the day he died. Stealing the air from her lungs when the corpses of her past swapped on the face of the demon, frozen in time, in her memory. Everything from her Harrowing to the day his heart stopped beating came rushing back after being stolen by fear. The blood, the tears, the torture she and others had gone through, how the lives of mages she hardly knew but had studied and worked and eventually bled with had been killed out of a curiosity then casted away to be stolen memories by some lowly demon.

"Bastard. Schwein." Corinnthea adjusted her grip, and the change wasn't like fights witnessed in the past, subtle and became clearer with every strike. Like grease to a fire, Corinnthea became a storm, bolts of lightning dancing across her armor. Unseen to her companions as they battered away the smaller creatures, the demon screamed at Corinnthea, the voices of her past converging, calling out to make her falter, lose her nerve. All it did was make her see red.

"Enough! Du wirst ihre Erinnerungen nicht länger beschämen!" Dust flew up, Hawke and Loghain close enough to see Corinnthea and the demon, the nightmare crumbling around the youth's outstretched hand. Only glancing at her men before pointing to the rift. “Run! Go!” The three of them being cut off as Varric, Solas, and Blackwall ran through the rift, Corinnthea ready with a plan when an arm snatched her by the waist. Hawke took off towards the rift, leaving Loghain behind, the Warden charging at the beast with a cry.

"Wait! No, we can't leave him behind! Let me go!" Dread seized her heart as Hawke jumped out of the rift. Tears blurring Corinnthea's vision when the rift began to seal, the cheers of the soldiers and wardens drowned out by the seething anger, heart hammering in her ears. The Champion's arm was still around her as she pushed and squirmed, finally getting dropped when her elbow nearly missed Hawke's ear. Backing away like his touch burned, ripping her gloves off to scrub the tears and grim off her face, heaving for breath. Everything became too much, the joy and relief from the soldiers, the grief in her heart, the regret in Hawke’s. She shoved the Champion back seeing his hand reach for her,

"What is with you damn adults and your fucking sacrifices? I had a plan to get us all out, Loghain didn't have to die!" Brushing off everyone's attempts to touch or console her, Corinnthea gained the support of the Grey Wardens despite the disapproval of many in her Circle. Silencing their doubts with a look, her eyes merciless in anger and sharp words putting those overstepping in their place. At Griffon’s Keep, setting out the Skyhold at dawn, Varric knocked at Corinnthea’s door to talk privately, hoping that she would open up to him as the young mage had pushed everyone out since they left Adamant.

”Freckles? Ya doing alright? I-” He stopped as the door creaked open, the fires in the room snuffed out and left the light of the moon to illuminate what he could see. The usually tidy room sat in a mass disarray, papers scattered, books tossed, the tables and chairs upturned and splintered against the walls. And curled up in the center of it all, back exposed to the air and pulsing with light, Corinnthea sat staring at the empty space, the slow movement of her ribs being Varric’s only tell that she hadn’t turned into a petrified corpse. Varric walked slowly, stepping around the mess until the two were at arms length of each other yet still miles away in heart. The dwarf snatched up the blanket from Corinnthea’s upturned bed, ready to wrap the young mage up.

”I remember it all. How I was branded like an animal,” Corinnthea croaked, trembling and bloody hands scratching at the stones. “And yet- and yet I can’t understand why.” Corinnthea turned her head to Varric, tears staining her face as she gritted her teeth. Bloodshot eyes gleaming from the shadows of her overgrown curls, sharp and wild moving over his face, watching him. A shudder in her breath as a sad, cruel smile crossed her face.

"Why did I survive? I should be dead, like the others, they at least were given the mercy of it." Corinnthea winced, her small frame beginning to tremble as the brands along her exposed skin pulsed again. Varric threw the thick blanket over her, wincing at the occasional shock while Corinnthea squirmed under his arm; tears of frustration running down her face as she tried to get away. "Just let me suffer, I deserve this destruction!" She cried, finally giving up to bury her head in Varric's shoulder, both still bruised and exhausted from the march on Adamant. The two sat stiffly in silence, waiting for one to speak or the other to crumble.

Time stretched on, the light of the moon crawling across the floor as Varric helped Corinnthea to move her bed up right and gather what can be saved. Not budging an inch when Corinnthea was cleaned up and tucked beneath the covers, looking impossibly small and frail. Varric found the least demolished chair and sat with his elbows on the edge of the bed. The dwarf was never one for prayer, but he prayed to every being of higher power that came to mind. Andraste, the Elves, the Stone, anyone that would give a shred of mercy to the child curled with her back to him. From his seat, he could see the brands creep up from the collar of her night shirt, seeing them left a sour taste in his mouth from witnessing how Fenris suffered. Though his brands were planned, mapped out to be something of beauty and power, to be put on display by his master. Varric didn't need to know a damn thing about Corinnthea's time in her Circle to know that she was meant to be a weapon, a means to an end that would be thrown to the side once its purpose is met. The writings of Warden-Commander Surana spoke of her personal fears leading up to the final fight in Denerim, how the people of Ferelden would treat a knife-eared mage saving their city, their lives, if the prejudice of the people would be overlooked in the light of the Blight ending or would she be chased out of the city by flame and pitchforks by sunrise?

”If I knew a way to save the world without you, Freckles. I’ve sent you off to whatever corner of the continent you wanted, away from all this.” He huffed, pulling the blanket further up and tucking it under the girl’s chin. Corinnthea had finally fallen asleep, having struggled, raged and cried every ounce of energy inside her. Varric could only guess how many unfortunate bastards heard her tearing up her room before she went still, the guards normally posted a few feet from her door stood at the end of the hallway when he rounded the corner. The kid storming off should’ve set off an alarm for him, they both know Hawke can leap before he looks, Corinnthea’s read his book a hundred times over and Varric wrote the damn thing. She had worked her ass off to not lose a single person within her reach, and Hawke leaves Loghain in the Fade despite Corinnthea having a plan to save them all.

It splits Varric in half, his relief that the two people he gives a damn about are safe and relatively unharmed but the frustration of Hawke’s decision affecting Corinnthea’s already unstable health. Garrett is his friend, hell his family from the times they’ve bled and smiled and cried together, while the little mage in front of him had smiled and knocked on the door of his heart. The damn sap opened it and gave her a key, despite his head telling him that she would have him wrapped around her little finger and break it. Varric didn’t interact with children, he didn’t really know how outside of entertaining them with his more lighthearted stories. Corinnthea, who didn’t get a normal, noble childhood, should count as a kid but hardly anyone gives her a chance.

”Kid or not, you shouldn’t have to go through what’s happened, what’s going to happen. We damn adults and our fucking sacrifices, right?” Varric watched Corinnthea sleep, waiting for a nightmare or some indication of distress before eventually standing from his seat. The dwarf barely clears the bed when he feels a tug on his shirt, but looking back, his charge hasn’t moved an inch. Moving towards the door again and the tug is a bit sharper, but still no movement from the snoozing Inquisitor, tugs becoming harder with every step until Varric lets out a sigh.

”So much for trying to give her space…” Taking off his shoes and belt, Varric gingerly settled himself over the blankets just far enough away so he would fall off the bed and not crowd his ki- the Inquisitor quietly snoring in the middle of the bed. The dwarf will have to deal with his existentialism and where he holds himself in the kid’s eyes later, the exhaustion of the last 24 hours catching up to Varric once he lays down. Being the Inquisitor meant Corinnthea had the nicest bed no matter where she went, and Varric could feel it as he sank deep into mattress, only vaguely feeling a small hand grasp his arm.

Chapter Text

”What exactly do you remember after we encountered that demon in the Fade?” Corinnthea ducked in on herself, not expecting that question from Varric. The curiosity of her company breathing down her neck as she blatantly avoided Hawke approaching her at any given moment since the battle at Adamant, though she was well aware that Hawke wanted to apologize for what happened. Corinnthea didn’t want to hear it, feeling that the apology didn’t belong to her. It should be to Queen Anora, the daughter Loghain had to leave behind. To Threnn and everyone who still saw Loghain as someone other than a traitor, but not to her. Corinnthea already sent letters to Denerim, both privately to the King and Queen as only a fool wouldn’t know that the decade long marriage between Anora and Alistair is still not a happy one, no heir in sight for them. She let out a heavy sigh, tired eyes looking over to Varric who began to backpedal on his question, stopping when the young mage pulled on his sleeve to walk with her.

”I… I d-don’t want t-to-to talk about it, not right now. Not out here.” Corinnthea still held his arm, repositioning it to hold it rather than pulling Varric along. “But danke for st-st-staying with me after the battle.” A weak smile on her face failed to ease his concern, but nonetheless he stayed with her the whole trip back to Skyhold. Blackwall and Solas both beside themselves as they notice Corinnthea dropping her guard around Varric and Varric only. Everyone heard the screaming from her room at Griffon Keep, Solas felt the magic of her brands flare out and the pain that she had held so close to her chest for so long, likely since she was ‘gifted’ the lyrium that lay embedded in her skin. The cracks were growing, now visible above the collar of her armor. Pulsing light like a dancing fire when conditions are dim enough, leaving him to speculate and worry himself about what that would entail for the future. He couldn’t tell if Corinnthea’s thinning frame was from the stress and recent fighting or from the lyrium brands affecting her health. Solas couldn’t ask about it either without her clamming up and changing the subject.

~~

”Inquisitor, a word please.” Josephine seemed calm from the doorway, but Corinnthea could feel the oncoming wave of worry. She let out a sigh, giving Varric a nod before stepping away, having spent most of her time back in Skyhold with him or Iron Bull and the Chargers; trying to avoid a meeting or running into her more mother hen companions. Corinnthea felt the exhaustion in her bones, just wanting to rest before facing the nobility of the Winter Palace, yet no rest could be had as her restored memories became nightmares. Corinnthea had woken up in the middle of the night terrified and crying every night since they returned, shivering despite not being cold, and constantly hiding away from everyone but her chosen safeguards. Her shoulders square as she readies herself to be scolded-

”Huh?” Instead of well-placed concern and misplaced guidance, Corinnthea was enveloped in wool and leather, the smell of the old books and pine. Fiona held her daughter tightly, running her fingers through her wild curls. She wasn’t allowed to be at the battle of Adamant, Corinnthea has begged her not to be with tears in her eyes. The last thing she needed was to stress over where her mother was on the battlefield, Fiona understood that fear and remained in Skyhold. Upon Corinnthea returning and hearing the stories the scouts spread around about the battle, Fiona relented and asked the Ambassador to help her get a moment alone with Corinnthea which Josephine was more than happy to do. She heard what happened from Cullen, having heard Corinnthea tear up her room from his office and witnessing the state she was in on their way back to Skyhold.

Corinnthea stood like a statue, her own worries clouding her from feeling Fiona’s presence until she was right in front of her. To suddenly be enveloped in a heavy fog of concern and love, that inkling of relief she'd only received from her uncle Arran and her brothers. It felt uncomfortable, almost too sweet for Corinnthea to face. Her eyes stinging as she clung to her mother, wanting the feeling to become familiar in that moment. Shoulders shaking as she tried to hold everything in, until the two began to sway at Fiona's movement, a quiet tune humming from her as she moved them in a slow circle. Josephine stepped out at some point as it was just the two of them in her office, the crackling fire being their audience. It wasn't a tune Corinnthea knew, not of the songs from the tavern, nor the songs she learned in secret from the music hall near the Circle of Ostwick. As Fiona hummed, she felt quiet, alone in her mind for once as tears slid down her cheeks. Allowing this peace to last as long as Fiona would let her, Corinnthea closed her eyes and breathed while they swayed to and fro.

”It wasn't your fault. You know that, right? You can't save everyone, as much as it pains me to say it.” Fiona broke the silence after a while, holding Corinnthea by the chin to really look at her daughter. Only memories of her father were what Fiona had to reference, yet the Trevelyan features always held strong. The fiery ginger curls, sharp green eyes that reflected back into her soul and beyond. With everything she's been through, Corinnthea looked older than she truly was. Heavy bags under her eyes, scars still healing on her face, and the vibrance of youth stolen from her with violence and war. Seeing the lyrium cracks poking out of her collar and having heard what happened to the First Enchanter before Anavil from their Knight Commander. Fiona could only imagine the pain she's endured. Corinnthea sighed, something she's been doing a lot with every conversation held since Adamant.

”Never hur-hurts t-to-to try. I-I have-ha-have to try.” She sniffled, letting Fiona brush the tears away. Silence filled the space as Corinnthea continued to be held, the steady heartbeat from her mother making it hard to stay awake while Fiona rocked the two of them gently. She was so tired, yet memories that had been stolen away scar the insides of her eyelids, driving terror into her heart with every blink, every attempt to rest met with blood stained guilt and corruption. Seeing faces of fellow mages that died to free her and the man that she had blindly trusted, the wretched smile on his face when he died by her hand. In the haze of exhaustion, Corinnthea hardly registered that they had moved from their spot until she was suddenly scooped into the air, her arms already around Fiona’s shoulders when they settled into a chair. Legs hanging over the arms as her mother shuffled the two of them to a more comfortable position.

”It’s been some time since I’ve held my children in such a way. I wasn’t sure if you would still fit in my lap anymore…You’ve grown so quickly. Been through too much.” Fiona leaned her cheek against the top of her daughter’s head, letting the weight and presence of Corinnthea settle into her mind. Another child she had left behind, another hero that didn’t ask to become one. From what Lelianna mentions in passing, Alistair had come to his own conclusion and sought to help the Inquisition but keeping their relations private. A wise choice given how dangerous their positions in power are, a King and an upstart Inquisitor. A former Grey Warden that fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight, and a child mage from Ositwick, a thwarted attempt to create a living weapon to overthrow the templars of the Circle. Four mages lost their lives to help Corinnthea out a stop to the First Enchanter that was behind it all, and the cost weighed greatly on her shoulders.

”Mutti…” Corinnthea muttered, her eyes heavy as the soft collar of her mother's robes pressed against her cheek. The weight of Fiona’s head on hers, arms holding her to her mother's chest; the world felt quiet for once, the hum of Fiona’s magic thrummed in time with her heartbeat. The harmony luring away her consciousness…

~~

”Rinn, you're the only one that can get close to him. It has to be you…” Heiydrid rasped, gurgling breaths as he gripped Corinnthea’s arm with hands colder than death, blood freezing on the corner of his lip. His breath visible in the air despite the midsummer heat, the lyrium scarred into his chest clouding up the air as he shivered. Tears threatened to freeze his eyes shut as he clung to life. Corinnthea looked behind her, seeing a raging fire that was once a fellow mage, an elf. Velanna. Plants growing continuously in the corner with roots threatening to graze the flames, Qunari horns poking through the fibers. Tamek.

Remember their names.

”You… You are more than this. More than what he wanted for us. Finish this, finish this and live. Endure. For us.” He smiled, frost spreading over his skin as he body stilled. She looked up to see the others again, only to see the ritual chamber where Grand Enchanter Periculum stood in the center, giggling to himself as he waved a hand in the air. Dark magic trailed where his fingers splayed across the air, a manic grin never leaving his face. A creature of Pride stood in the place of her former mentor, twisted by a want of power and control.

”Report, Ma' tarasyl'nin. Your other compatriots are not with you. What is their fate?” Periculum twisted around to face her, spine contorted inhumanely as Corinnthea felt her heart drop to her feet. Remembering the bodies she had to walk away from, their lives cut short by the man she had trusted more than her own family. She prayed her heart wouldn't betray the fear stirring inside her as Corinnthea crossed the room, naked feet splashing against the wet tiles from the open skylight. The storm that delivered their fates had passed with a mere drizzle clouding the rotunda, a dead vein of lyrium laid discarded in the center, rain having washed away much of the blood, soot, and viserica used in the ritual. Corinnthea didn't risk looking away from Periculum when she got stopped just outside of arm's reach.

”D-d-dead, Ma’ tarlen. The lyrium proved t-to-to be to m-much-ch for their bodies to handle.” The string in her eyes as Periculum approached, Corinnthea couldn’t tell if it was tears, blood, or the lyrium in her skin causing it. Snaps of static as he grabbed her chin, raising her face to look up and marvel as the hair on his arm raised in response.

”Yet fate decided you would be my champion. To strike back at the Chantry, the Templars, and all who oppose our control of magic!” Thunder rolled above as the grip on Corinnthea’s face became harsher, the smell of blood overwhelming her senses as she grasped his hand in instinct. The echoes of agony fresh in her mind as her weakly smiled to mirror the twisted, too-wide grin that stretched across Periculum’s face, fangs too large for his face split the gums in his mouth as he reeled back to laugh as the storm swelled once more causing blood to splatter across her skin.

”Soon! Soon all will know our power! All will know the strength of the Gods!” A bolt of lightning cracked down from the sky, striking the dead vein of lyrium once more and sent the shattered remains flying. Corinnthea hid behind her teacher, hopping from one foot to another as the sharp pieces scattered and cut her bare feet, opening her eyes to see a larger fragment that was swept up into her sleeve as she bent to brush away the smaller remains from where she stood. Her heart dropping to her feet as Corinnthea looked back up to her mentor.

Periculum had twisted around to see what had occurred, large shards of lyrium stuck out of his skin, sending rivers of blood down his exposed skin and soaked the ruined remains of his once immaculate robes. Wicked grin still stretched across his face when Corinnthea took her chance while the window was open.

As fast he turned back to Corinnthea, she rushed forward with the shard in her hand, thrusting it deep into his chest and forcing it further as they both tumbled to the ground. An inhuman roar erupted from his throat as Periculum reached and scratched at Corinnthea, both struggling to gain the upper hand as the storm crackled above. A sharp yank and the snapping of fibers forced her to let go of the shard embedded in his chest, rolling away, Corinnthea felt the deluge of rain from above and was struck by an idea. A stupid, reckless effort to stop this madness from reaching outside this room, to keep the world safe from this wrath.

”You want power? You want to see what your torture has wrought?!” Raising her hand to the sky, feeling the lyrium in her skin begin to burn. Periculum rushed to close the distance, realizing what she intended to do. Their screams being drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder, light filling the room as a singular bolt of lightning snaked down. Everything seemed to slow as she turned her eyes up to growing light reaching for her, even as a hand wrapped itself around her throat. Flashes of her friends, her fellow mages, her family kept her hand reaching for the sky, the other finding the shard she had buried in her mentor’s chest. Heiydrid’s final breath, her eternal promise on the lives that were sacrificed, echoed beneath the thrum of her rapid heartbeat.

”You are more. You must live. You must endure.”

~~

”...ertragen, du musst ertragen…” Feeling a hand brush her cheek, her eyes snapped open and grasped the hand, Corinnthea pulling herself together as she remembered what happened before her dream. Fiona hesitated to speak, having felt the magic surrounding her daughter swirl and fester. She looked down as Corinnthea shifted and began to tremble, bony shoulders digging into her ribs as sobs escaped her. Fiona held her daughter close, wishing that they could disappear, start anew, try being a family… but knew in her heart that there was much work to be done and Corinnthea stood in the center of it all.

”I don’t know h-h-how-how you see m-me as a daughter… I’ve so much blood on my hands.” Fiona pulled Corinnthea to sit up, giving her a look before slipping her gloves off and holding them in her own. Small, spindly fingers trembled as Fiona really looked at her child’s hands for the first time. Freckles and lyrium fought to dominate the skin on the backs of her hands, the harsh blue cracks reached all the way down to the tip of her fingers, twisting and branching out until disappearing into her sleeves. Calluses from the fighting and training seemed so out of place for someone Corinnthea’s age, a scar on her left palm marred by sickly green veins that Solas had gone over many times to ensure that it, The Anchor, wasn’t affecting her health as much as the lyrium embedded in her skin already did.

”I see no blood here, just hands, ma’ da’ ean.” Fiona sighed, knowing words only did so much for Corinnthea’s own festering thoughts. “You have been through too much, and will go through more in the times ahead.”

”Know that you will always be my daughter, and I will always love you with all my heart. You are more than your past, more than what this Inquisition needs.” Corinnthea stiffened under her mother’s words, old memories renewed in her mind, turning into Fiona’s shoulder to hold her closely. She can never banish these memories now, but now, more than ever, she has reason to endure.

Chapter Text

”The Court will al-already know I'm a mage but s-swing-swinging a staff around those gilded halls will ruin the Inquisition’s reputation if I break something. My wrist blades aren’t enough to face the enemy alone.” Harritt and Dagna had been scratching their heads as the time for the Inquisition to depart for the Winter Palace and stop the assassination plot against Empress Celene came closer. After getting all the information she could from her ambassadors, Corinnthea began to work with the two on how she could disguise herself, both as an altered mage and as The Bastard Trevelyan. That knowledge has never been confirmed for the sake of Torvanna’s reputation with her Orlesian family, according to public records and forced word of mouth. Corinnthea is Arran’s daughter from a different marriage, though with his work and “free reign lifestyle”, she was graciously raised under the care of his older brother and alongside his many children. Torvanna's recent attempts to remove her completely from the family tree has stirred up rumors, and with both in attendance meant that the Game would zero in on their relationship and pick at any loose threads to unravel the truth. Dagna and Harritt had one half of the problem, Josephine had the other half on her own.

”Out of all the families in Orlais, I've never had to interact with one so antiquated in their ways. Some of their traditions date back to the times of the Third Blight.” Josephine picked over all the public records and traditions of House Costellar, the alterations needed to not offend their name with Corinnthea present was becoming insurmountable. No red fabric, no reference to their coat of arms, no tying back of the hair in the traditional style of the Costellar line. So many tiny things that either seemed irrelevant or so blatantly stated for the sake of ostentatious gratuity. Thankfully honoring the Trevelyan name turned out to be much easier, even if Corinnthea was hesitant to do so.

”My father will be there, most certainly. I haven't seen him since I was a child, I-I wouldn't know if he'd be offended by it.” With little options left, Josephine had the needed alterations made just in time for their departure to Halamshrial. The entire inner circle was attending as Gaspard asked, though Corinnthea had a select few that would be at her side. Vivienne being less than enthused about Sara and The Iron Bull chosen as her party, but conceded as she rode alongside the young Inquisitor, Josephine, and Lelianna. All giving their input on how to play The Game. When Vivienne pulled a small box and held it out to Corinnthea.

”A late birthday gift, my dear. The Game is critical about appearance and your ears have always been a sensitive topic, I know. Consider this as armor in the halls of Halamshrial.” Opening the box presented a pair of finely crafted earrings, delicate white and green gemstones inlaid into gold studs, cuffs bent and shaped into an arch that mimicked the missing shell of both of Corinnthea's ruined ears, impossibly thin chains connecting the cuffs to the studs. Not ostentatious or gaudy, not quite understated either. With some assistance and wiping away some tears, Josephine pulled out a hand mirror to let Corinnthea see.

”The gems are from Ostwick, and crafted by a jeweler that your Lord Uncle knows well. You looked beautiful, my dear.” Corinnthea grabbed Vivienne’s hand as she hung her head, shoulders shaking with restrained sniffles escaping her.

”Danke… Danke Tante…” With some deep breaths and cleaning up the minimal make-up that the women around her had recommended, dark burgundy lining her eyes made the sharp green of Corinnthea’s eye stand out more. Hair lightly oiled and curls shaped with hidden pins that held some pieces forward and others out of her face. The needed changes to the uniform reflecting not only the Trevelyan name but Corinnthea and her position as the Inquisitor. A rich, dark green and slate gray damask weaving of branches and leaves, singular threads of gold meant to catch the eye. Lighter greens and sage whites with dark, natural leathers and gold refinery to tie everything together. Underneath lied the true secret: light weight armor and a marvel of work from Dagna and Harritt, a corded handle able to form any blade similar to ones formed by arcane warriors, paired with a Focus, a lyrium infused gemstone that could be easily hidden in her coats.

”The political situation in Halamshiral hangs by a thread. The empress fears our presence could sever it. The grand duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity… if not a clear advantage.” Josephine walked after Corinnthea, the soldiers parting the way as they entered the front courtyard of the palace. Gaspard, tall and swaying in a way that makes the young mage question how much the man has already had to drink. The smell of heavy perfumes, alcohol, foods, and woodsmoke with all the swirling emotions, Corinnthea swallowed down the vertigo of being surrounded by strangers that know what she is but not who she is. What her presence meant to the future of Orlais and their future if Corypheus succeeds, whether they believe in it or not.

”Young Inquisitor Trevelyan! It is an honor to meet you at last!” Gaspard bowed, which she and Josephine returned, his grandeur continuing to try and inflate Corinnthea’s ego. “The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons.”

”Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!” The roar of the archdemon and scream of the fear demon echoed in her mind when Gaspard spoke of the battle of Adamant, giving him a look while his back was turned.

”And which one was the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused.” Corinnthea smiled sweetly when Gaspard snapped around at her teasing question. He pointed at her, threatening yet held the same playfulness she did.

”If we keep watch, he may appear. Probably by the brandy. I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I’ll help you.” They walked further into the courtyard, dark clouds moving quickly overhead, and whispers reaching Corinnthea’s ears. The knowledge of what she needs to stop, the presence of her family somewhere on the grounds, and everything that other attendees are plotting had her in a huff to get the pleasantries out of the way, Vivienne and Josephine’s teachings reeling her back from accusing Gaspard on the spot for plotting the assassination himself. Hiding her frustration as the man looked at her with excitement and anticipation bleeding off of him.

”My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age.” If she could roll her eyes, she would. Corinnthea knew Orlesians were all about reputation, shock value, and legacy, none of which she could be bothered to give a damn about. Maybe if she was older, she’d understand, but played along like Vivienne taught her to. Smiling with a forced breath of amusement, gesturing to the gathering nobles heading towards the vestibule.

”Can’t imagine this crowd has s-seen anything better than us in their entire lives.” A usurper, the Empress’s own blood, and a child mage that leads an upstart legion that proclaims the end times and is the only ones that can prevent it. Definitely a change from the normal amount of backstabbing and subterfuge that happens at an average Orlesian gathering. Gaspard laughed, surprised with her wit and sharpness, having heard of how shy and meek the girl in front of him acts off the battlefield. His chevalies in the Exalted Plains reported of a young mage hiding behind her companions, letting her company speak for her while being fussed over like a child.

”I knew we would get along famously, Inquisitor.” Gaspard cleared his throat, laying down the business. “As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. There is this elven woman Briala— I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations.”

”My people have found these “ambassadors” all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.” Corinnthea dropped her smile, prejudice against elves was common in Orlais, nevertheless she bristled at his allegations. An unmistakable sharpness in her tone.

”Tell me there’s more to your suspicion than “the elves were acting dodgy”.” Gaspard caught her agitation to his words, jumping to explain before losing the girl’s favor forever.

”That “ambassador”, Briala, used to be a servant of Celene’s. That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake.” He spoke quickly, knowing that their time to prepare was coming to an end. As was Corinnthea’s patience for this conversation. “If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it’s that elf. She certainly has reason.”

”Be as discreet as possible.” He sighed, a tiredness weighing down his frame. “I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains.”

”We’re keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?” He gestured forward and the two walked to the stairs, Corinnthea letting him go on ahead as she wanted to admire the courtyard a bit longer. As much as she didn’t want to keep hearing the whispers about her from other nobles, she mingled and eavesdropped on conversations, returning a “lost” ring to a woman she had walked past initially. Meeting an anxious Josephine at the gate, it takes all of her power to not turn Corinnthea around and leave. The Game is dangerous and she’s ushering a child to the middle of its darkest pits, brows furrowed deeply as she pulls her to the side.

”Corin- Inquisitor, a moment if you please? As I’ve taught you before: how you speak to the court is a matter of life and death.” Josephine fussed with the imaginary dust on Corinnthea’s uniform as she continued. “It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.”

”I’ll keep my guard up, don’t worry.” Empty words, yet needed to settle the festering worry that clouded around the Antivan. Josephine adjusting Corinnthea’s collar to cover the growing lyrium cracks up her neck. A rumor circulated the courts of Corinnthea’s condition after the Western Approach, dredging up the stories that traveled after her collapse in the Storm Coast. It was unlikely that a noble would blatantly ask about it here, but having them show would invite such boldness.

”The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you.” Josephine cringed at the pressure she was placing onto the girl in front of her, knowing that she’d fought dragons, demons, and everything Corypheus had thrown at the Inquisition thus far. Surviving her circle, a mountain dropped on her head, flares from her brands, heartbreak, and more, yet facing The Game worried her most.

”It’d be a good idea for the others to hear this warning.” Corinnthea thought of who she would be taking into the depths of the Winter Palace. Knowing everyone other than Vivienne and Dorian either actively detest interacting with nobility or have little knowledge or a fuck to give about etiquette. “Especially Sera… A-and Iron Bull. Maybe t-tell-tell them twice.”

”I’ll have a few… discreet words.” Josephine straightened up, gesturing for them to head inside. A forced smile on her face as she spoke, more to herself than to Corinnthea. “Everything will be fine.”

Corinnthea didn’t miss her words to Andraste as they walked inside, the grandeur of the vestibule instantly driving a pit of exasperation and anxiety into her stomach as she spotted Varric, Cullen, and Cassandra at the top of the stairs. All of them held an air of nervousness, withholding their words of worry from Corinnthea as she was the one who had to face the Empress and stop everything from falling into chaos. Varric took notice of her new jewelry and turned her chin to better look at the earrings.

”A gift from the Iron Lady? They suit you, Freckles.” Corinnthea beamed, turning to show the Seeker and Commander who leaned closer to see. They laid in their opinions and points of disdain of being at the palace before echoing each other as Corinnthea left to mingle and eavesdrop before heading to the Ballroom with Gaspard leading. The Royal Herald gives her a short bow as she follows the Duke down the stairs, rolling out his scroll to announce their arrival.

”And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him…” The Herald paused, clearly reading her extensive title and achievements as she stood on the landing, flanked by her advisors and close company. “Lady Inquisitor Corinnthea Panothari Dasda Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle of Magi!”

”Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground! Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!” Corinnthea hid her disdain as she walked across the dance floor, eyes watching Celene and the woman standing next to her, vaguely hearing the others being announced to the court as she stood behind Gaspard. Her family had already arrived, that much she knew, but where everyone was and if they knew what her presence meant was beyond her reach. Desperate to keep them out of her way and far from danger, she knew that what conversation she could spare had to be brief. Eyes snapping up as Celene addressed her directly.

”Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.” The woman curtsied, a bitter, festerance underlie her pleasantness, though Corinnthea couldn’t tell if was linked to the peace talks or not. She wasn’t about to rule out the Duchess for anything.

”Your arrival at the court is like a cool breeze on a summer’s day.” She would’ve snorted if it wasn’t the Empress of Orlais saying that to her, Corinnthea bowing her head as distant thunder rumbled. “Let’s hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm.”

”Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor… How do you find Halamshiral?” Corinnthea couldn’t find the words to compare the beauty of the palace, as ostentatious she found it, the walls, floors, and decorum had an elegance she couldn’t deny. Lelianna catching Corinnthea as the Empress walked away, asking to speak privately once she left the Ballroom. Eavesdropping a bit more until spotting Josephine standing with a woman, hearing their Antivan accents cut through the sea of Orlesian drew her in. Smiling politely as she approached.

Yvette proved to be a delight, fawning over how small and cute Corinnthea seemed, far too delicate to be fighting demons and Red templars. Josephine reminding her sister that Corinnthea is the leader of the Inquisition, not a child placed upon a pedestal for the sake of appearance, and is to be treated with dignity.

”Under all the pageantry and armor, she is still a child, Josephine!” The two argued quietly as Corinnthea stepped away, needing to speak with Lelianna about their next move, noting a bit of gossip before stepping back into the vestibule. Speaking with her brought the adage of Celene’s occult advisor which led to Corinnthea’s lingering question when Lelianna mentioned that she had dealt with this apostate in the past.

”In the past? Is… Is it Morrigan?” Lelianna sighed heavily, giving her a nod before continuing. Corinnthea had “The Hero’s Journey” memorized, and Warden Suranna wrote at length about each of her companions; especially Morrigan, Alistair, and Lelianna. It would take a fool to not piece together that Celene’s new “pet” is the famed Witch of the Wilds that ended the Fifth Blight alongside the Hero of Ferelden. Lelianna recommended searching the Guest Wing as she left to gather information on the negotiations and any ulterior motives from other attendees.

”I’ll keep an eye out for your family as well. From what I’ve heard, your step-mother brought your father and siblings along. Don’t let them distract you.” Corinnthea parted, eavesdropping on some elven servants while her heart raced, the fear of running into one of her family and dragging them into the danger surrounding this place. A slow, deep breath before making her way to the Guest Wing.

~~

Trying to appease the nobles while eavesdropping, collecting information from the servants, and speaking to her companions as they kept watch as she slipped in and out of view. Eventually making her way back to the Ballroom as the second bell rang over the courtyard. Corinnthea made it fashionably late back to the Ballroom, a voice startling her as a presence, old and powerful at her back.

”Well, well. What have we here?” Corinnthea watched as one of the heroes of her childhood clicked her heels down the stairs, a deep, red velvet dress with lace and gold jewelry enhancing her mystic and presence. Morrigan looked down at the young Inquisitor, a child no older than her own son, yet sharp eyes met her before they widened in awe. She smiled widely as she continued.

”The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” Morrigan walked right up to Corinnthea, hand a hair’s breath from the girl’s face to look her in the eye. Seeing the wounds of battle marring her face. “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

”You’re Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, you…” Corinnthea trailed off as she remembered Warden Suranna’s writing at the final battle in Denerim, the dark ritual she and Loghain performed to seal away the Archdemon. What became of Loghain at the battle of Adamant. Morrigan tapped her chin before the downward spiral of her mind went too far, stoic poise hiding a sadness that the young mage could only grasp threads to understand.

”You know me better than most, it seems. That makes things much simpler.” Morrigan guided Corinnthea to the balcony, holding back on the instinct to fix the loose curl hanging in the girl’s eye but produced a handkerchief to let her dry the tears that welled up. “You… have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

”I-I ho-hope-hope so. I could use another ally here.” A meek smile reached Corinnthea’s face as they spoke further, Morrigan slipping a key into her hand as she gave the handkerchief back. The witch glanced into the Ballroom then back to the young mage before her, a pit of worry welling up as she sent Corinnthea to the pits of danger within these gilded walls. Not registering her hand brushing away the stray curl as she walked back to Celene’s balcony.

”Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.” Corinnthea sprang into action, gathering her chosen party to search the servant’s quarters and steeled herself for what horrors they may witness beyond the boundaries of what nobility cares to see. The smell of blood had Corinnthea turn her head away from the sight of the slaughtered servants, a prayer muttered under her breath as Sera and Vivienne spat at each other. Iron Bull shadowed Corinnthea as they stepped outside to the courtyard holding the grand apartments, the smell of blood still fresh in the air.

A man in noble refinery laid dead before the fountain, Corinnthea getting up close before anyone could stop her. Flicking the dagger handle as she stretched her magic to sense any lingering souls.

”This is no servant, and the Chalons crest is inlaid on the dagger.” Vivienne confirmed the corpse was an emissary for the Council of Heralds, Corinnthea looked up towards the balconies and windows in the apartment before them, eyes searching for any movement. A scream breaking the eerie silence as Venatori, led by a Harlequin who disappears as Corinnthea brought down a volley of lightning. Her spellblade allows her to dance and weave around the enemy without the hindrance of her staff, driving the arcane blade into the ribs of the last Venatori with lethal precision.

Searching the apartments, picking up a necklace from a vault and cutting down more Venatori before finding the Harlequin again. She was fast but Corinnthea let out a sharp whistle that Iron Bull understood immediately, charging fast with wild swings, Sera and Vivienne picking off the stray Venatori. The Harlequin ducked and dodged the Bull’s wicked axe when Corinnthea slithered out from under his arm, one swipe of her blade and then there was one man left, scurrying away in a panic. Corinnthea motioned Sera to fire when a blade flew from nowhere and took the killing blow, Ambassador Briala rounding the corner with another blade in hand.

”Fancy meeting you here, Child Inquisitor. Shouldn’t you be dancing, dearie? What will the nobility say?” Briala waltzed past Corinnthea and Iron Bull as they both huffed from the fight, Vivienne narrowing her eyes at the Ambassador but kept her distance. Corinnthea waved Sera and Iron Bull to search around, pick off any remaining Venatori and grab any valuables left behind.

”Botschafterin Briala, We meet again.” Corinnthea spoke to her briefly, carefully choosing her words as Celene’s Ladies-in-Waiting stood nearby, no doubt listening to everything they could while looking inconspicuous. Briala smiled despite not knowing what the mage just called her, knowing very little of the Trevelyan’s culture and their archaic language that’s survived centuries of change and Exalted Marches.

”Your reputation for getting results is well deserved.” She looked past Corinnthea, seeing the slaughter dealt by the Qunari and the girl. Hearing of the battles the Inquisition has fought and the ferocity from the Inquisitor. Not a far cry from the sharp eyes watching her every move, yet Briala doubted that a child, a Free Marcher Noble mage at that, could truly be the kind yet ruthless leader of Inquisition. Leaving her offer of helping the elves instead of Gaspard, Briala departed as The Iron Bull and Sera returned from their urban foraging. Vivienne insisted to reset Corinnthea’s hair as she shrugged back on her coat, Sera snickering as she and Bull cleaned up and Vivienne fussed and smoothed the static frizz built up from the fighting.

”Honestly my dear, if the court sees the static and blood. What will they say?” Corinnthea remained silent as the wide comb passed through and the pins replaced, just in time for the second bell to toll for the second round of dancing. She wanted to leave, lives are on the line and the fate of the world stands in the balance of tonight, yet the urge to scream obscenities and disappear from everyone’s memory felt stronger than ever. A sickly sweet voice grating against the grain for her festering darkness once she reentered the Ballroom.

”Inquisitor Trevelyan? We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party.” The bitterness still lingered under her overly sweet demeanor, Corinnthea resisted wrinkling her nose at her for speaking through this sad excuse of a mask. Her voice a touch sharper than intended once she schooled her expression to face the Duchess.

”Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?” Iron Bull was right saying the mask does nothing to hide body language, and at this distance, Corinnthea could see and feel the flash of surprise cross Florianne’s face. The painted picture of a meek and awkward child leading the Inquisition had been well kept by well placed rumors and witnesses of her heightened anxiety. Snark and doubt hung over every noble's head like a noose, one that Corinnthea twitched to pull the lever on.

”I-Indeed you can. I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person. Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.” Florianne barely waited for a reply as she took Corinnthea by the hand and walked towards the center floor where the dancing took place. Sure, she had a growth spurt between Crestwood and the Battle of Adamant, Corinnthea finally standing taller than Varric and climbing in height. The young mage remained much smaller than most of the adults in attendance, even Florianne towered over her in heels and corseted posture. But this is what Vivienne and Josephine taught her.

”Very well. Sh-shall we dance, You Grace-ce?” Corinnthea offered her hand up to the Duchess as they descended the stairs, all eyes on them with anticipation and bewilderment. Dancing being the only thing Corinnthea didn’t need thorough lessons on, even the most complicated dances of Orlais took mere minutes to memorize. Florianne spoke of the war like Corinnthea had been kept in a bubble leading the Inquisition, tensing under her hand as the mage added her measured two cents to the conversation, all while keeping in time with the sweeping steps and turns of the music.

”I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the palace… You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some.”

”Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?” Corinnthea quipped back, knowing how her position and presence at this gathering tilted the balances. How exactly is up to her and the performance she gives to the nobility of Orlais, much to the distress of everyone around her. A souring spear of resentment pierced her back as she and Florianne sprung across the floor, and it didn't take a scholar to guess who it was. Glancing past the Duchess, she spotted a furious and gaudy in her various shades of red Torvanna, her step mother poorly covering her emotions as she couldn’t do a thing to stop this conversation between her bastard daughter and the Duchess.

”A little of both, actually. This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?” Florianne’s question snapped her attention back, a bark of a laugh escaping her with another turn.

”If I’ve learned anything, Your Grace, it is to put my trust in no one.” Her face dropped with her answer, dead eyes staring into the mask. Florianne froze, feet stumbling into each other as Corinnthea reacted, feeling a pop in her shoulders as she covered the misstep by dipping the Duchess. Applause roared in her ears as they rose and stabilized, a tilt of her gaze reaching the woman, almost as if giving back her mind to breath.

”You have little time. The attack will come soon… must stop Gaspard before he strikes… the Royal Wing garden, you will find the captain of my brother’s mercenaries. He knows...” She gasped, taking a deep breath before stiffly walking away. Corinnthea turned to walk towards the other side of the lowered floor, away from Florianne and away from Torvanna. Arm tucked close and hiding that her fingers were numb, her shoulder definitely got pulled from its socket catching the Duchess. Josephine rushed over, Lelianna and Cullen following close behind. Everyone shushing the Commander before he could say anything about how obvious the dislocated arm was.

”You’ll be the talk of the court for months. We should take you dancing more often.” Corinnthea grimaced a smile, giving Cullen a nod to step closer, and lifted her arm for the commander to hold. The Commander had regained some color in the long stretch of his sobriety, though look white as a sheet while supporting the limp arm.

”I-I’d ha-hap-happily do m-more dancing…” Another look towards Cullen and gritting her teeth, they lift and reset the shoulder back in place. Quick and subtle. No tears as she breathed slowly, waving the man off while flexing the other hand. A string of her family tongue escaping as the feeling came back, none of it she wanted to repeat in common tongue to her advisors nor repeat it within earshot of her father or siblings. “Just not with Corypheus.”

”I promise not to invite him to your next ball.” With her back turned, Corinnthea couldn't see her step-mother but she definitely felt the stabbing glower of the woman from somewhere in the room. Which she needs to escape before Torvanna has the chance to make a scene. Telling her advisors of her suspicions of Florianne, the bitterness that lingered under her overly sweet tones. Corinnthea’s sixth sense wasn’t enough to point to conviction, that she knew but she wouldn’t let anyone dismiss her.

”Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat.”

”Then perhaps we should-” Lelianna cut herself off, Corrinthea’s expression alone daring her advisor to finish that sentence, the mage took a slow breath while putting pressure on the scar on her temple. A headache forming from everything that has happened since setting foot in this Palace of sabotage and selfish endeavors.

”I will not standby and let her die! Cut that line of thought from your mind at once. I need to find Gaspard’s mercenary captain in the royal wing. He knows of the assassination.” Corinnthea never raised her voice off the battlefield, her commands were never harsher than a suggestion or plea, but not now, this was a battle of life and death. And she came to win.

”That could be a trap.”

”Or a lead. Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues.” The advisors shared a look as Corinnthea dipped and disappeared in the crowd, not daring to discuss their personal anxieties aloud less they manifest. Josephine eventually parted to check her sister in line, Yvette had been so doubtful of Corinnthea actually being a child that meeting her infuriated the younger sister. Cursing up and down in their mother tongue for dragging a child into Orlesian politics, still huffing when Josephine left her side to check in after the dance with Florianne. Cullen and Lelianna parting ways to tell their soldiers to move into place in case things go south, the darkening clouds over the Palace being taken as an ill omen. Whatever happens now, it's up to the Inquisitor. To put faith in a child, mage, a foreigner.

May Andraste help us all.