Chapter Text
Cassandra stared at the slim slip of a girl they’d found at the scene of the crime. If it weren’t for the hand that glowed as green as the hole in the sky she’d never consider her to be guilty. She had worn the skimpiest outfit Cassandra had ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on, but – and this was important – she was young. An elf of about eleven summers. She had to be a mage! How else would she have killed the divine and caused this disaster? Yet they had found only a pair of intricate spear blades and an elegant bow on her person.
As the elf looked up to them with a curious expression, Cassandra locked eyes with her. Then, unexpectedly, the girl smiled at her.
“Hello!” she greeted them, inappropriately cheerfully for the situation. She added a concerned “Are you alright?” when their stunned silence dragged on for too long.
“Am I alright?” she spat, confused and angry all at once. “The conclave is destroyed! Everyone who attended is dead! Except for you...” The answer was as unexpected as everything else about this situation.
“What conclave?” Had this been anyone else, the pretence would have caused Cassandra’s rage to sprout wings and spew flames, but as she was currently staring at a little girl, it didn’t seem as unlikely.
Leliana answered instead of her. “Divine Justinia called a conclave to end the war between mages and templars.”
“Why are mages and templars at war?” The girl asked, but before anyone could address that statement a pained gasp escaped her as her marked hand flashed green.
“What is that?” She asked them, seemingly confused.
This had to be a horrible accident. Someone used this girl for this purpose, perhaps a bomb she had been unaware she carried. Apart from her unsettling determination to smile through the pain she seemed a normal enough child. Cassandra’s stomach twisted into knots as she imagined the situation their prisoner must have been in to learn such habits. It was an unfortunate fact of life for elves...
Perhaps it was a clever deception, but...
Shaking her head she told Leliana to head to the forward camp. Hopefully that apostate was right about the mark.
“It is perhaps best if you see it for yourself”, she finally told the elf.
Then, dismissing the guards, she led her outside where the breach was clearly visible in the sky. The girl stared at it for a moment, before the green flashing of her hand drew her back to the current situation.
“I need to go there”, she told Cassandra. The seeker was immediately suspicious. Had the girl caused this mess after all?
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m the Arisen, it’s my duty to fix this.” The girl said seriously. She had such a determined expression on her face that Cassandra couldn’t help but believe her.
“Then follow me.”
With that they were off.
After everything that had happened Solas wondered if it shouldn’t have been him to be sealed away for eternity. Awakening to find the world worse off than before was already a shock in and of itself. Being unable to unlock his orb to immediately fix this particular mistake had been humiliating. And it was not only the long sleep that had weakened him, no. The veil itself was like a thick blanket smothering his power from a brightly burning flame to a flickering candle.
He created another burst of ice to deal with one more of the endless amount of demons pouring out of the rift. They must’ve become corrupted from passing through, he couldn’t believe there would be this many demons in one place – his wanderings in his dreams had been peaceful.
As he tiredly moved to deal with yet another corrupted spirit his mind drifted to the latest victim of his mistakes. Corypheus was supposed to unlock the orb for him, but something had gone wrong. He hadn’t found his focus and only barely managed to escape suspicion himself afterwards. But even worse – the person all this suspicion now rested on was only a child – even by the terms of this new world.
He had done his best to keep her alive, even though he was uncertain whether he’d succeeded. She might have been breathing, but he had been unable to find a pulse. If she didn’t wake up – he would have to take the mark himself, something which likely would kill such a young person. Originally he’d barely dared to contemplate it, but the situation was worsening.
A sharp pain in his arm made him refocus on the battle winding down around him. He hastily retreated as the hunger lunged for him again. Then he heard a high voice call out: “GO!” He knocked the demon away from himself into a nearby soldier’s waiting sword and half-turned to look warily around. What was that supposed to mean? A dark blur whirled past him, spinning several times in the air before crashing down onto another unsuspecting demon. That was when he could make out the round face of the prisoner.
In her hands she held a pair of gleaming blades that seemed to have been made for spears, although she used them as daggers. Before anything else could be said the dwarven crossbowman put a bolt through the last demon’s head and Solas took the opportunity. He grabbed the child’s hand and – feeling a little bit like a father, showing his da’len the ropes – guided his magic in her hand to seal the rift. He was sure she’d be able to do it on her own from now on.
“Thank you!” The girl commented cheerily with the same voice that had shouted earlier.
“I did nothing” he denied immediately. “That was all you. Good job” he added on. Something about talking to someone so young made him feel like a teacher. He mentally shook himself, but still proceeded to explain his ‘theory’.
“The magic that opened the breach also seems to have put that mark on your hand. I thought the mark might be able to close the breach or the rifts that have opened since then. And it seems I was correct.” When speaking to children, so Mythal had often reminded him, one should avoid pronouns and use small and uncomplicated words. He hoped it was adequate.
“Meaning it could also close the breach itself?” Cassandra stepped forward as she asked this, drawing level with the bearer of his mark.
“Possibly.” He answered. This was something he wasn’t too sure about himself. The breach was large and had been opened with significantly more power than the mark on the prisoner’s hand held. He couldn’t resist adding on a small stealth pun as he turned to face the child.
“It seems you hold the key to our salvation in your hand.”
At that point the dwarf joined their conversation. “Good to know. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Solas felt himself mirroring Cassandra’s disapproving look at the swearword.
“Varric Tethras: Rogue, Story-Teller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” The man introduced himself.
“Hello Varric” The girl began pleasantly. Then she gestured to herself. “I am Olis of Cassardis: The Arisen, Strider and occasionally, pest-remover. I’m happy to meet you.”
“Oh, you might want to reconsider that stance in time.” He commented.
“Aw, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, chuckles.”
While Cassandra and Varric descended into a small argument, Solas watched their unwitting saviour. She had abandoned the conversation and crouched near one of the collapsed walls, poking at the snow on the ground.
“'Tis like soft ice” she murmured to herself, but his sharp ears picked it up regardless.
He made his way over to her and bent down to be on her level. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” Then he paused. He didn’t have the heart to inform her she’d nearly died. Or would probably do so soon, regardless of what happened. But there was a question of his own he might ask her.
“Your pulse is very faint. I’ve been wondering if this has always been the case.” Truthfully, she had no heartbeat at all. If she hadn’t had such a strong and varied presence he’d almost be willing to believe her a construct or a possessed corpse. As it was he’d kept his observations quiet.
“Oh, I used to have a pulse, but then a dragon stole my heart. So you shouldn’t have felt anything at all.” She explained blithely.
“A dragon... stole your heart?” He asked, wondering if this had been some story an elder had made up to placate her or if it came from her own imagination. “How old are you?”
“I’m... hmm. I think... But... Uh... I actually don’t know. I might be fifteen. But yes, Grigori. He’s quite chatty for someone who hates monologues, but then that’s his role, so he can’t help it.”
So definitely a story, then. She ‘might’ be fifteen? Was she, though? Well, that was old enough to count as an adult in this age. And it wasn’t too surprising that she wouldn’t know.
He watched her roll the snow into a small ball, weapons now safely tugged into her belt. He frowned slightly. The clothes she was wearing were inappropriate, even if it hadn’t been snowing. They left her legs and most of her torso bare – closer to what a dancer might wear in a shifty brothel.
She interrupted his musings: “So what’s the next step when I can’t seal the breach?”
“What makes you think you won’t be able to?” He questioned her. She didn’t seem to be a mage at first glance, but her presence was so strange and intense that he couldn’t be sure. Could she sense the power of the breach in the veil?
“It seems to be too big a problem to be solved so easily.” She answered instead.
He blinked at her. Was she under the impression they were living in a story? Although... maybe that was what helped her overcome her predicament.
“I don’t think that’s quite how it works. But I fear you might be right. The power is unlike any I have seen before.”
Cassandra, apparently listening in to their conversation for some time stepped in. “In that case we should head to the forward camp quickly.”
And so they hurried onward.
While neither her titles nor the name Cassardis meant anything to him, he’d smiled at hearing her mirror his introduction style. He hadn’t been quite sure what to think, when he’d heard of the person that supposedly caused this whole mess, but he felt a little better after witnessing her in person. Then she’d ignored his argument with Cassandra to look at the snow as if she’d never seen any before and his earlier uncertainty returned.
As they made their way to the forward camp she admitted that she didn’t remember what had happened before she fell out of the rift. Strangely enough, Olis seemed not the least bothered by this.
Watching what everyone considered a child cut through the demons with an efficiency not seen in some battle-hardened veterans, Varric once more doubted that assessment. While the girl seemed to be genuinely jovial, her skill with weapons exceeded the street rats he’d met by leaps and bounds. She also didn’t attack with the same sneakiness a person who’d learned on the streets did.
She could be Dalish, but in truth, she lacked the caution. In fact she darted through their enemies with such abandon, that it suggested she didn’t care about getting hurt. Which in turn was at odds with her sunny outlook. Very curious. But ultimately, he thought she was older than they suspected.
Her stamina alone was far beyond any child. In fact, as she yet again jumped over her own height in the air and spun in tandem with her blades, like a deadly whirlwind of blades, she might have more than some grown men.
He’d have appreciated the acrobatics more within a story. They seemed impractical in a battle of life and death. She made it work, though.
As she sealed another rift, this time without Solas’ assistance, he couldn’t help but comment: “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.”
She turned and smiled at him. “That’s probably why I have it.”
He felt his eyebrows lift at that. He’d noted earlier that she seemed to think everything that had happened followed some imaginary rules and that she was the hero in her own personal story.
“Let’s hope so.” He said dubiously, as they passed through the gates to the sound of an argument.