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Chapter Text

The irons were heavy on his wrists. He had yelled and shouted and pleaded that it was unnecessary to no avail. The woman keeping him did not seem interested in his protests. She only asked questions he did not know the answers to, and did not believe him when he told the truth.

There was an anger deep in his chest, demanding that he fight, insisting that this was wrong and he needed to escape. Obviously, but what was the point in fighting when it would get me nowhere. Better to die fighting than to live in chains. They will not kill me-

The sound of the door opening drew him from his thoughts. His second voice was quiet as he looked up and saw the woman enter, followed by another woman wearing a hood.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The first demanded, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

He said nothing, dropped his eyes to his hands.

“Explain this!” She demanded again, grabbing his left wrist.

Kit gasped sharply as the pain in that hand flared, accompanied by arching green energy. Magic. Not his, but magic, similar. The way it felt, Kit was surprised it had not killed him.

“I- I do not know.” Kit answered slowly, “I-it is magic. But it is different from my magic. I do not know where it came from.”

“You’re lying! ” She surged forward and grabbed him.

Fight!

Before he could act on the instinct, the other woman got between them and pulled her away.

“We need him, Cassandra!” She admonished.

“L-let me go . I have done nothing !” Kit pulled at his restraints fitfully. Frustration and a shameful fear curling deep in his chest to replace the anger.

They looked at him for a moment and Cassandra huffed and stepped away as the other approached him, “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Kit thought for a moment and grimaced as he shook his head, “No… It- feels like a dream. I do not know if what I remember was real.”

“Tell me what you remember, maybe I can help you make sense of it.”

“There were… things chasing me. I was running. I could have fought them, would have won, do not know why I was afraid of them. Then… a woman? She reached out to me, but…” Kit grimaced, “After that, nothing. I do not remember.”

“A woman?”

“I do not remember what she looked like. Like I said, it feels like a dream, the details are… vague, at best.”

She turned to Cassandra and they shared a look.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana, I will take him to the rift.”

Leliana nodded and turned to leave without a word.

Cassandra approached and knelt in front of him, she pulled a key from her belt and unlocked the manacles. Kit pulled his hands towards himself when he was free and the soldiers surrounding him pulled their swords as Cassandra grabbed his wrists with a glare.

Kit was ashamed of the anxious whine that escaped him as she rebound his hands in rope.

“What- What did happen?”

“It will be easier to show you.” Cassandra answered, hauling him to his feet with a hand on his arm, then guiding him through the halls of his prison.

Kit gasped when he stepped outside. There was a hole in the sky . Awful and raining terror and fire from… Creators only knew where. 

“We call it “The Breach.” It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“There was an explosion? It… an explosion can do this?”

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

The Breach surged and the pain in his hand flared. Kit shouted at the sudden pain, collapsing to his knees as it stole his breath, and drew his hands in towards himself, as if he could somehow relieve the pain by holding the hand close.

Cassandra knelt and helped him up, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Kit searched for that second voice in his head. Considered the Breach and his options for a moment. I do not like these people. But they need my help. If I do not help, the world will end. This thing is corrupting everything, it is easy to see. I have to help.

“I will help… if I can.” Kit decided finally, “You seem to think that I can. I will trust your judgment, for now.”

Cassandra nodded thankfully and led him through the camp by the arm. 

Kit did not miss the glares aimed at him as they went. Now he understood why he was bound. If he was not, he was sure these people would gather to shout and attack and blame, block his path. Maybe they would have tried to kill him then and there. As it was, he could handle a few glares.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.” Cassandra explained as they walked, soldiers opened a gate as they walked and she guided him through it, “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.” She stopped him on the other side of the gate and turned towards him, drawing a dagger as she stepped closer.

Kit was tempted to step back, but she needed him, she would not attack him, her stance did not tell of an attack, “There will be a trial, I can promise no more.” She grabbed his wrists and cut the rope. Kit sighed in relief and rubbed at his wrists as she walked ahead, “Come. It is not far.”

Kit followed, “Where are we going?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” 

Kit followed silently as they passed through another gate.

They get to the top of the next hill before his Mark flares again and sent him to the ground with a pained shout.

Cassandra helped him up, Kit cradling his hand close to his chest, “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

They continued for a moment before Kit put the question in his mind to words, “How did I survive the blast?”

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious.” Cassandra answered, “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Kit hummed thoughtfully, “ They say many things, apparently.”

“Indeed.”

Freeze. His instinct told him as they stepped onto the next bridge over a frozen river. A chunk of the debris raining from the Breach collided with the bridge, sending the bodies of soldiers flying and Cassandra and Kit falling onto the ice. 

Cassandra got up first, Kit dazed and disoriented. 

Kit pulled himself up as a demon appeared from a puddle of green light. He reached for his magic and found it uncontrolled and wild. Staff. He looked over his shoulder. There. Kit shuffled backwards and used one foot to kick the wooden staff up into his hands. He twirled it in one hand and snapped it around with the other to deliver a heavy blow to the creature advancing on him. 

He thought of fire as he focused his magic into the staff and let loose a volley of attacks. 

The demon burned away into ash as Cassandra finished hers off with a heavy slash. 

“It is over, for now, we need to move.”

Cassandra turned to him and pointed her sword at him, “Drop your weapon. Now!”

Kit furrowed his brow at her and held out his staff, offering it, “You and I both know I do not need this to be dangerous.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?!”

“I have not attacked you yet, and it would be foolish to do so. You die, I get blamed, your people kill me.” Kit pointed at the sky, “ I die, that does not get solved, in so far as we can assume, and the world is consumed by it.”

Cassandra glared at him before huffing a sigh and sheathing her blade, “You’re right. You don’t need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” She stepped away for a moment, “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly…”

“Yes, you should,” Kit responded as he walked on to lead the way, “Where are all your soldiers?”

“At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own, for now.”

“Of course…”

They fought through more Shades and Whisps through the valley to reach a group fighting off yet more of the demons. An elven mage, a dwarf with a crossbow, and a few human soldiers. 

Kit jumped down the ledge and into the fray, twirling his staff in one hand and planting it hard, focusing on each of the Shades as lightning arced between them. 

Two hissed and turned towards him and Kit sent a blast of fire towards one before blocking the other’s attack with his staff and shoving it away. 

Cassandra leaped between them, slashing at the Shade and bracing with her shield. 

With a few basic attacks, flashes of fire channeled through his staff, the two he’d gotten the attention of burned away. He turned his attention towards the remaining Shade in time to see it melt away as the Dwarf shot it. 

“Quickly, before more come through!” The elven mage shouted over the crackling of the rift as he approached and grabbed Kit by the wrist. 

Fight. Kit pulled back on instinct but the rift was already reacting to the mark on his hand and he could not break it. It felt like his hand was being torn apart and Kit shouted and tried to focus, tried to pull it in and control it like he would any spell he’d lost control of. The rift closed with a mighty cracking sound and the mage finally released him. 

Kit pulled his hand in towards himself, lightly massaging his palm as he tried to dispel the lingering pain, “What did you do ? How?”

“ I did nothing, the credit is yours,” the elf nodded at him. 

“So I can help…” he looked down at the mark on his hand, it was still throbbing with pain, and frowned at it, “At least this is good for something .”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.” He explained. 

Kit nodded as he spoke. It made sense. But the question remained of what magic could have caused this. 

“So it could also close the Breach itself?” Cassandra asked, looking between the two. 

“Possibly,” the elf answered, then faced Kit again, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Kit grimaced. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being the only one with the power to stop this disaster. 

Then the Dwarf approached, “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” and decided to introduce himself, “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra and she scowled at him. 

Kit nodded a silent greeting and looked at Cassandra, “So, I closed the rift. What now?”

“Now we go meet Leliana.” Cassandra answered.

“What a great idea!” Varric declared, clearly intent on accompanying them. 

“Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-“

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

The elf mage approached as the two argued, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.”

Varric grinned as he looked over, clearly having won the argument, “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'”

“You seem to know a great deal about all this…” Kit observed, eyeing Solas critically. 

Cassandra was the one to answer, “Like you, Solas is an apostate.”

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” He turned to Kit, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

“I see…” Kit narrowed his eyes at him. Hiding. Suspicious. He knows too much for this to be all there is. “And what will you do once this is all over?” He wondered in response. 

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not.” Solas answered. 

The safe answer. Elves are not trusted by humans. City-elf or Dalish, regardless of origin he would likely be persecuted eventually. 

Kit hummed, “Then I suppose I owe you my thanks, for saving my life.” He gave a slight bow. 

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process,” Solas smirked and turned to Cassandra, “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Kit felt himself bristle at being referred to as a prisoner and scowled, “My name is Kitori Fox… please use it.”

Solas gave a cursory nod to show he understood as Cassandra responded to him. 

Then the group moved on, climbing over a bit of debris and making their way down into the valley. 

They fought more demons at the base of the path and as they were catching their breath afterwards Varric spoke up. 

“So… you are human,” Varric commented, “But you’re… strange, for a human.”

Kit blinked at the Dwarf a moment, wondering what his point was.

“Where are you from?”

“I… am from many places.” Kit answered hesitantly.

“Ooohhh evasive, now I’m curious.”

“I do not see how it is relevant.”

“Oh it’s not, I’m just nosey,” Varric grinned. 

Kit sighed. “I suppose there is no real reason to lie about it… I was raised by a Dalish clan. I had to leave when I developed my magic, and… I have been… wandering since.”

“A Dalish clan took in a human? ” Solas asked disbelievingly. 

“I was an infant,” Kit explained, “The way the Keeper told it, my human parents abandoned me to the wilds, and they found me, ill and weak, and could not leave me to die.”

“Quite the origin story,” Varric huffed a chuckle.

“So you are a human with Dalish values?” Cassandra asked curiously. 

“Yes.” Kit answered, “When it comes down to it, I was abandoned to die of illness by humans, and saved by elves. In my experience, most humans are not much different than those who left me for dead. Even now, it was an elven apostate who kept me alive, and you, a human, who threatened to kill me.”

“Makes sense to me,” Varric stated happily as Cassandra maintained a stony silence. 

They continued on, trudging up a staircase carved into the stone slope.

Chapter Text

They trudged up to a desk set on a fortified bridge where wounded were being tended, dead were being tallied, and supplies were being handed out. Healing potions to those that needed them or were heading back into the fight, arrows to archers, new swords and shields to replace those that had been broken or damaged in the fight. But that was not what they were here for. 

The hooded woman- Leliana, Kit recalled- was arguing with a man in Chantry robes. 

“Ah! Here they come!” The Chantry man interrupted as they approached. 

“You made it.” Leliana sounded pleased and not at all surprised, “Chancellor Roderick, this-“

“I know who he is!” He interrupted again and Kit decided he very much did not like this man, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!”

Kit took half a step back, breath in his throat, ready to change and run . 

But he was looking at Cassandra and she stepped forward with a glare, “ Order me?” She questioned, “You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug , but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” 

Kit did not mention that it didn’t sound in the Chantry’s favor to have so called ‘thugs’ in its service.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor! As you well know,” Leliana cut in before the argument could come to blows. 

“Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!” Roderick continued, undeterred.  

Kit rolled his eyes, “And yet just a moment ago you were giving orders to have me chained. Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue here? If we do not stop it we will all die.”

“You brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick accused, jabbing a finger in his direction. 

Kit scowled at him, “And how would this benefit me at all?” Kit wondered, “The mark on my hand is killing me, quite literally, I can barely feel my magic, and apparently I’m the only one that has a chance to close that thing!” He exclaimed, pointing at the Breach as his hand flared again. 

He was used to it by this point and drew his hand back to him with a grunt. 

The Chancellor was unmoved, “I don’t know but I intend to find out.” He turned back to Cassandra, “Call a retreat, Seeker, our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late.” She replied, gesturing to Kit. 

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers…” 

Kit had been under the impression the Chantry people were the ones that were supposed to insist that there was always hope. He rolled his eyes as the three continued to argue, debating between a mountain path or a direct assault through the ruins to get to the temple. 

The Breach, and his mark, pulsed and expanded again. Kit was starting to get used to the feeling of his hand tearing to pieces from the inside out. That was concerning. 

Cassandra turned to him, as if remembering that he was there, “How do you think we should proceed?”

He took a moment to think. 

Fight. Push. But it will take longer to fight through them. But I want to fight, I am tired of running. We are not running. No more running. We have to get to the Breach as quickly as possible. 

“We take the mountain path.” he finally decided, “It could take longer than we have to try to push through.”

The others nodded and Cassandra started leading the way.

As they passed, Roderick threw another snide remark, “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” 

Kit scowled, “I do not like him.” He grumbled. 

“No one does,” Cassandra assured. 

It took… well, longer than he would’ve liked to get to the entrance. And to discover exactly what kind of path they’d be taking. 

Kit huffed and shuddered as they entered the mine, resolutely ignoring the concerned looks from the party as they fought the shades and wisps lurking in the entrance. 

We do not have time for this! Kit spun his staff in one hand and planted it, sending lightning arcing between the demons. A Shade closed on him and he scowled, and made a gesture with one hand, a clawed grip, arcing upwards. 

Vines burst from the stonework under the Shade, wrapping tightly, and, when Kit closed his fist, crushing it into nothing. 

There was silence as Kit shook off the magic. At least I can still use it, even if I cannot feel it. 

“So… what was that?” The Dwarf asked casually as they kept walking. 

“Shades and Wisps. We have fought them before?” Kit answered. 

“No, I mean the vines coming from places vines don’t grow.”

“I have not seen magic like that in a long time,” Solas agreed. 

Kit looked at both of them over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, “I have been able to manipulate plantlife for as long as I can remember. The potential for the vines was there already, I just bid them to grow and defend their home.” 

“Fascinating…” Solas commented, sounding like he was now thinking about something. Possibilities and theories, Kit was sure. 

“Uh-huh…” Varric seemed skeptical at best, “Well… we have more important things to do right now, but I definitely have questions.”

“Of course you do…” Kit grunted and kept walking, “Let us just get through this tunnel as quickly as possible.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra cut in, walking ahead of them, “We have to get to the Breach.”

They found bodies as they exited the tunnel and Varric sighed, speaking solemnly about their fate.

“This cannot be all of them,” Cassandra assured, looking regretfully over the bodies. 

Varric lifted his head a bit, appearing a bit more hopeful, “So the rest could still be holed up ahead?”

“Our priority must be the breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

“We have certainly not forgotten, Solas,” Kit remarked bitterly, shaking out his hand as the mark flared again. 

“And I’m leaving that to the man with the glowing hand,” Varric commented as they approached a rift where soldiers were already fighting the demons.

These demons were tall and spindly with long, wicked looking claws. And one soldier’s defense was wavering against its onslaught. 

Kit reached for his magic and found it freezing. He grinned, and with a breath the wind of winter wrapped around him and brought him exactly where he needed to be, blocking the creature’s next attack with his staff. 

He blasted it back with a shockwave and it screeched at him as the soldier got her bearings behind him. He felt a barrier wrap around him and stood firm, returning the demon’s angered screech, following it with blasts of fire from his staff. 

The thing was heavy and unwieldy with the metal woven through it, but it was enough, and soon the terror melted away and the rift shuddered and pulsed as more of them began clawing their way through. 

Kit was deaf to the soldier and Cassandra speaking, his eyes glued to the spots the demons would come through, ready with a fiery detonation for the right moment. There. Kit reached forward and detonated the immolate spell between two of the tall spindly demons, and followed it up immediately with another chain lightning. A wisp faded back into the rift as the terror demons screeched and opened what appeared to be new rifts underneath themselves. They disappeared for a moment and Kit spun, looking for where they would reappear. He did not look down. 

Something opened up under his feet and came through, striking him and knocking him onto his back. Then the demon pulled itself through and screeched loudly. 

Kit felt like his energy was being sapped, his movements were slow. Cassandra struck out at the demon as he pulled himself to his feet. Kit grunted and felt a fury surge. He spread his magic into the ground and lifted. Roots and vines, cowering from the cold wind of winter, burst from the ground, sharp and angry, stabbing through the demon. 

It melted away with a final screech and Kit turned to face the other. Solas, Varric, and the soldiers finished it off and Kit took a breath, slowly slinging the borrowed staff back across his back. 

He stepped up to the rift, and, with an encouraging nod from Solas, lifted his marked hand towards it. 

It again felt like his hand was being turned inside out, but, as before, the rift was sealed. 

One of the soldiers approached him and Cassandra, “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant, he made the decision to bring us this way,” Cassandra said, gesturing to him.

Kit frowned, “Please use my name.” He looked at the soldier and dipped his head in greeting, “Kitori Fox.”

“Then you…?”

“It was worth coming this way, and finding you, if we could,” Kit assured.

The soldier bowed slightly, “Then you have my sincere gratitude.”

Cassandra and talked a moment before she and the other surviving soldiers left the way they had come. 

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well,” Solas pointed out as they moved on. 

“Let’s hurry, before that changes. Down the ladder, that’s the way to the temple.”

“So… Holes in the fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?”

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.”

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

“That is true.”

“We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past,” Cassandra interrupted. 

Kit felt his heart in his throat as they walked through what was left of the temple. So many dead. And somehow I am the only one who survived. They said I stepped out of the Fade… right there… There is only blood and a scorch mark. 

And then there was the Breach, and the rift directly under it. The Breach was massive , and the rift… The Fade was bleeding into this place, voices and visions of what happened. He still could not remember. But that voice shook his soul . 

According to Solas, the rift was currently closed, but in order to properly seal it he would have to open it first. That sounded like a bad idea. 

Kit took a steadying breath and let the rift link to the mark on his hand. 

It did not take long for the demon to pull itself through. It was… very large , and armored, with large claws, and lightning arcing between its claws and spines. 

The arrows shattered on impact with its armor and it was completely unphased. Crap. 

Cassandra was managing to strike between the plates around its ankles, Varric and a few of the other archers were managing to find the soft spots and chinks in its armor. Solas’ magic seemed effective, fire licking at its shoulders and ice forming around its knees. 

Okay. 

Kit knelt and planted his hands in the dirt, reaching into the earth for its help. He could not feel it the way he used to, but he knew it was there, he knew it would respond to his call. 

He reached as he stood, vines indeed sprouting through the ground and wrapping around the demon’s arms and holding . Restraining it allowed the archers to land good hits in its back, and the warriors to mob and strike again and again. 

It roared angrily and lashed at the vines with its claws, batting the harrying warriors away with a lash of lightning once it was free. 

Cassandra was picking herself up, but several soldiers were dead. Seeing their bodies laying broken, Kit felt his anger surge . 

He threw one arm forward, throwing his staff down with the other, willing more vines to grow and wrap the creature’s arm. He ran forward as its hand was pulled down low, and let his magic wrap him and change him. 

Four paws landed on the demon’s arm, and a wolf ran up the slope of it to its shoulder, finding the soft place where the shoulder met the neck and biting hard, digging in with his teeth. He saw the massive clawed hand coming towards him and jumped down to avoid it. He stalked forward again, white fur around his muzzle dripping black with the demon’s blood as he snarled and bared his teeth. Hackles raised, he cut an intimidating presence, making even Cassandra freeze and pull back a moment, but he was focused entirely on the demon.

It raised a hand between them, a crackling orb of pure storm gathering there before its claws. He rushed forward as the ball launched from its hand and it passed over him, static making the rest of his fur stand on end. The power of it blinded him a moment as he ran, vision flashing white. It was all the opening the demon needed. Claws dragged across his flank and threw him. He collided with the wall and the wolf disappeared, Kit, struggling to pull himself up, in its place. 

Kit bared his teeth, spitting red blood, and threw a few blasts of fire. It was not as controlled as it could have been without a staff, but it did burn the demon. 

The fight lasted a good while longer, and by the time it was over, Kit was wavering on his feet. So was Cassandra. 

She steadied herself and looked up towards Kit and the rift, “Now! Seal the rift, before more come through!”

Kit staggered over to it and lifted his mark to it. He screamed as the connection was made, instinctively trying to pull away from it and break it. It felt like his hand was splitting open, like a thousand bolts of lightning found a splint in his palm and were tearing him apart from just under his skin.

Chapter Text

There was a shockwave that accompanied the thunderous crack as the rift closed, and Cassandra pulled herself back to her feet, despite the bone deep pain throughout her body. She had to. She was the Right Hand of The Divine, she had to be the one to get up first. She looked around, taking stock of the situation and casualties as the dust cleared. Leliana was taking care of it, giving orders, handling the care of the wounded. 

Good. She looked over to where the rift had been. Below it, crumpled in a heap of gold trimmed emerald green, pale skin, and white hair matted with red at his temple, was the prisoner- Kitori , she corrected herself. He wasn’t moving, she couldn’t tell from here if he was even breathing. She spotted Solas moving towards him and she moved forward as well, pulling the last of her healing droughts from her belt and kneeling down next to the strange human. 

She let Solas carefully turn him over, hands supporting his head and neck as he went. The wound at his temple was still bleeding sluggishly, and there was a wicked claw wound deep into his meagerly armored side. He was breathing, but barely, and it was strained and shallow. Cassandra pulled the unconscious man’s mouth open and poured the drought down his throat, closing and covering his mouth so that he wouldn’t cough it back up and waste it. It was all they had. 

The bleeding at his head stopped, and it was difficult to tell for his side, but a little color returned to his face and his breathing eased just a touch. Cassandra stood, leaving Solas to tend him as she went to fetch a healer. 

Adan sighed as he finished stitching the claw wounds in the man’s torso and moved to make notes on the symptoms and treatments. Clammy skin, shallow breathing, too-fast pulse. Head injury, blood loss, magical exhaustion… 

And then there were the scars. Barely an inch of skin unmarred, stained and torn bandages covering the ones on his wrists and neck. He clearly didn’t want anyone seeing the scars, so he took care to wrap them in fresh bandages. 

The elven apostate kept showing up as well, looking at the scarred mark on his patient’s hand, meditating for a few minutes or several hours, then leaving again. He said it was ‘thrumming’ with ‘unknown magic.’ Adan wished they could station a Templar at his bedside, and said as much in his notes. Unfortunately there were few templars present, and the ones they did have were either also being treated or had more important work to be doing. 

He sighed again as he left the makeshift hospital, heading for his own cabin to mix up a fresh poultice to keep wounds from getting infected, making a mental list of the supplies he would need, what they were running low on, what they were out of, and what could be substituted in a pinch. 

There was too much to do and not enough people or supplies to make it happen. People were coming, but supplies would remain limited. 

It didn’t matter, there was nothing he could do about it so he wouldn’t worry about it. He was going to bed. The Chantry nurses had organized a watch over the wounded, those that needed it would be tended through the night. 

Come morning, Adan was informed by the Sister watching over the survivor that his fever hadn’t broken in the night, but his breathing and pulse had eased. He was stable, but now appeared to be deep in a bad dream. He was thrashing and mumbling in his sleep, completely unresponsive to any of their efforts to wake or calm him. At this rate he was in danger of tearing his wounds open again. Adan instructed the Sister to tie him down. Gently, if she could, and to avoid the wrists if possible. He did not say why. 

He heard whispers as he went about his day tending to the other patients. Apparently they were calling the survivor ‘The Herald of Andraste’ now. 

Get up! Get up! They want to see you fight so show them your teeth! Show them what will happen to them! 

Taste of liquid metal in my mouth. Blood. Mine. Red in my eye. More blood. Mine. I cannot take much more.  

You have to! They will not let you stop! They will kill us if you stop! 

Shaking, paws heavy. Everything hurts.  

Fight. 

Good. The wrath of the land, your wrath, cannot be tamed. Show them. 

…

Flashes of black and grey and green. Eyes. Too many eyes. Grey and grey and deep pools of the grey. Too many eyes. Too many eyes. Too many, all watching and knowing and judging and shaming. 

Make it stop!

…

……

………

Kitori woke slowly, the sound of a door opening and closing rousing him. He pried his eyes open and saw an unfamiliar roof over his head, he grimaced and sat up stiffly, an unfamiliar room, small cabin- 

An unfamiliar elven woman, carrying a small box. She gasped and dropped it as she realized he was awake. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I swear!” She took a startled step back. 

Kit gave a sad frown. Mistreated and abused, afraid . “It is alright, you did not wake me. Please do not be afraid of me.”

“That’s wrong isn’t it? I said the wrong thing…” 

“No, I-“

She fell to her knees and… bowed to him?

No. Wrong. No one should be bowing to me .

Kit stood there in stunned silence as she begged his forgiveness and hurried back out the door, telling him where to find the Seeker.

Kit fell back into sitting on the bed and looked down at his marked hand. Three days… a long time to sleep, but I have had worse. He looked over himself, inspecting his wounds. They still ached terribly, but he had been in worse shape, in more pain, and pressed on, so he got up and dug around for his cloak and armors. The box the woman had been carrying had a few stalks of elfroot, and some dawn flowers. Kit tucked those away in a bag he would claim as his own, seeing as his was missing, with a satisfied smile. 

His armors were gone, replaced with… other options. He grimaced, each had metal. He did not like metal, it felt wrong somehow. But it was what he had, and he knew better than to go unarmored, so he dressed and opened the cabin door. 

He almost shut it again immediately upon seeing the crowd gathered along the path up to the Chantry. All whispering and pointing and…

They were calling him the ‘ Herald of Andraste’ . Nope. No . He would have to put a stop to that immediately , as soon as he could. He was not going to be labeled the Herald of a god he didn’t believe in . 

He made his way to the Chantry quickly, resolutely ignoring the gaping crowds. 

He paused outside the door at the back of the chapel, listening to Cassandra and the Chancellor arguing. 

“Have you gone completely mad? He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

He looked nervously at one of the Templars standing guard. They were not looking at him. 

“I do not believe he is guilty.” Cassandra responded. 

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way.”

Kit rolled his eyes and listened to the rest of the argument. Cassandra was a principled woman it seemed, a strong sense of duty and proper justice. He liked that. Roderick… Kit grimaced. Just as principled, but Kit could hear what he was not saying. He was afraid. Of Kit, of the mark on Kit’s hand, the hole still in the sky, all of it. He was sure the world was ending and he was desperate to hold on to something familiar. As much as he disliked the Chancellor… Kit could understand that fear. 

Kit sighed and opened the door. There were two more guards inside the door, Leliana, who had been silent thus far, off to the side, and of course, Cassandra and Roderick in each other’s faces. 

Roderick turned to face him and looked at the guards, “Chain him! I want him prepared to travel to the capital for trial!”

Kit clenched his jaw, taking a defensive step back. 

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra ordered, clearly fed up.

The Templars obeyed and Kit relaxed, stepping fully into the room as they left and closed the door. 

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick sneered. 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat and I will not ignore it.”

“I did all I could to close it…” Kit sighed, “It felt like it was killing me. I suspect I am lucky to be alive.”

“Yet you are alive. A convenient result insofar as you’re concerned,” Roderick huffed.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and muttered, “ Have a care Chancellor .” Then spoke up properly, “The Breach is not the only threat we face. 

“I am willing to try again, but a new strategy is recommended… if it kills me before I can close it then you are all doomed.”

“You do not include yourself in this?” Roderick questioned suspiciously.

Kit shrugged, “I would be dead, it would not matter much to me anymore. Though while I live, I would like to see it sealed.”

Roderick sniffed dismissively and turned to Cassandra, “And what of this ‘other threat’? What could be more threatening than a hole in the sky?!”

Leliana spoke up for the first time during this meeting, “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others — or have allies who yet live.”

“Or perhaps they also survived… There was a woman in the Fade with me, I cannot remember who it was, or what she looked like… Regardless, if I survived, it is possible that whoever did this did as well. They had to have some sort of plan to come out of it alive, else what was the point?”

“A good point,” Leliana nodded, “But the area was scoured thoroughly, and no trace of any other survivors was found.”

“There was a lot happening, it would be near impossible to find any actual trace of them.”

“I know, but until we have more information, we have to explore other possibilities as well.” Leliana explained, and looked at Roderick pointedly.

“ I am a suspect ?!” He questioned incredulously.

“ You , and many others,” Leliana responded cooly.

They went back and forth a moment before Cassandra suggested that his mark was ‘divine providence’.

Kit scowled, “ No. I will not be labeled the chosen one of a god I do not believe in. This ,” he holds up his marked hand, “Is luck , if anything, likely a spell gone wrong.”

Cassandra frowns, “Regardless, you are exactly what we needed exactly when we needed it.”

Kit shook his head. 

“Anyway, the Breach is still in the sky, and you remain our only hope of closing it.” Leliana commented. 

“That is not for you to decide,” Roderick huffed. 

Cassandra slammed a heavy book on the table. 

Kit was too busy staring at the book (loud- threat- assess, defend-) to really listen to the dramatic speech Cassandra was giving. All he really understood was Inquisition and restore order . 

Roderick wrinkled his nose and stormed out. 

“The Divine was planning to announce this at the conclave…” Leliana said solemnly, “This is her directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no resources, no support, no leader…”

“But we have no choice, if this problem is going to be solved then we have to act now ,” Cassandra responded and turned to Kit, “With you at our side.”

Kit took a moment. They need me. I am the only one who can close the rifts, let alone the Breach… “If not us, then who?” He nodded, “I will help however I can.”

Cassandra held out a hand, Kit hesitated only a moment before shaking it. 

“I will send word to friends and allies, we will need all the help we can get. In the meantime, Kitori, I suggest you rest and recover, there is a long road ahead of us,” Leliana said with a slight smile and a dip of her head.

“I am fine, thank you for your concern,” Kit responded almost reflexively. 

“Then perhaps meet with those allies we do have,” Cassandra suggested, “Quartermaster Threnn has set up just outside the Chantry, Adan, Haven’s apothecary, is set up in a cabin, follow the path to the left and you should find it, and you only need follow the sound of a hammer beating metal to find our smith, Harett.”

Kit nodded, and turned to leave, “I will do that.”

He stepped out into the snow and took a moment to get his bearings. Directly in front was a small cluster of large tents and a desk with a busy and stressed looking woman. He could indeed hear the smithy hard at work in the distance. Most tempting was the quiet path off to the left, sprigs of elfroot growing by its edges, trailing behind a cluster of cabins and, assumedly, curling around to the clearing between said cabins.

He sighs and walks forward to speak with the woman at the table, “Are you Quartermaster Threnn?” he asks as he gets her attention, though she seems distracted by her lists and papers.

“Yes, yes,” she looked up briefly, taking note of the staff slung across Kit’s back, “any Circle mage looking to join needs to speak to Cullen or Cassandra. Apostates too I suppose.”

Kit tilted his head curiously and she looked up again.

“Oh… oh you’re him. Yes, I’m Threnn, Inquisition Quartermaster, I’m doing what I can to supply this mess.”

“Anything I can do to help? You seem… overwhelmed.” Kit offered.

Kit spent some time talking to Threnn, asking about how the requisitions worked and where any supplies he gathered could be turned in before leaving her to find and speak with Adan. 

The conversation with Adan was unfortunately brief. He was eager to get back to his work and wholly uninterested in Kit’s offer to help, or his claim to be a healer as well. He had sent Kit off with no more than a mention of some missing notes and a request for him to try to not die. Kitori made a mental note to keep an eye out for the notes.

Leaving the healer’s cabin, Kit took a breath and braced himself for the noise and general discomfort of going to see the smith.

It was, as expected, a loud and overwhelming affair. He’d stumbled his way through a response when asked how the new gear fit, and Harett had weaseled a more honest answer from him.

Kit left the forge with a promise from Harett for a new, metal free, set of armor, and a staff that was lighter without the metal weighing it down.

As discomforted as he was by the noise and feel of the forge, he had to admit, Harett was a good one. The smith had brushed aside his claim that his preference was trivial and that Harett had better things to do than worry about him, then explained, in no uncertain terms, that the preference was most definitely not trivial, because if he was uncomfortable with his equipment, he wouldn’t be effective or safe in a fight.

Kit appreciated the assurance, and had promised to bring back some samples of a substitute he could use for the metal. Drakestone, onyx, or obsidian maybe.

Stepping away from the forge, Kit took in the view of the lake and the mountains in the distance, the rolling evergreen trees dotted along the way in clusters of little groves and sections of what could almost be considered forest.

Without thinking about it, Kit stepped onto the path and started walking further from the little village. The words from the meeting filled his head, so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. Herald. Andraste. Providence. Chosen- marked- only hope. Kit scowled and started running, form changing between one step and the next. 

A white fox dashed along the path, darting through undergrowth, over and under fallen trees. Not their Herald. Not theirs. Not. Theirs.

He stayed out in the wilderness surrounding Haven for some time. The sun was setting by the time he decided to head back and check in with Cassandra. 

On the way, he found a secluded little cabin, and his curiosity pulled him to investigate. The inside was bare and messy, there were herbs hanging, drying, from the rafters. Herbalist . He looked around a bit and found papers on a desk tucked away in the corner. A brief look over them proved to be notes on a potion substitute for Lyrium. Not signed. But they are herbalism notes. Taigen’s? He tucked them away to take to Adan, and left the cabin. 

Walking through Haven, he was stopped by Solas.

“I was hoping to get a moment to speak with you,” the elf said plainly, “I must admit, you are a bit of a mystery to me.”

“Oh?” Kit tilted his head, “What about me is so mysterious?”

“Many things. You say you were raised Dalish? Yet you are human…”

“I said before, the Keeper refused to leave an infant alone to die in the wilderness, human or elf be damned.”

“That you did… Dalish are generally very protective of their customs, I am surprised they let you stay as long as they did.”

Kit shrugged a little, “I have wondered the same, to be honest. Nothing about me is particularly special..”

“On the contrary,” Solas cut in a bit, “Your magic is very special. I have not seen any of your abilities in all my travels. Shapeshifting, on occasion, plant and nature manipulation, sure… but yours is different than both, somehow… the feel is different, the.. Spirit of it. It is more powerful, with different rules than what I’ve seen before.”

Curious. Knows things. Knows too many things. Dangerous. 

Kit narrowed his eyes at him, “Why do I feel like you perceive me as a threat to be assessed and dissected?”

“Call me careful,” Solas spoke with a rueful smile, “I have not decided whether you are a threat or just a particularly intriguing mystery.”

Kit gave a considering humm, watching Solas carefully, cataloging his body language. Suspicious, staring too hard, does not trust us. Knows something. 

“Regardless…” Solas continued, turning away slightly. Avoiding, knows we are suspicious of him. “The people call you The Chosen Herald of Andraste, a blessed hero to save us all… what do you make of that?”

Kit scowled, “Do not remind me. I am not their Herald and I am not their hero. I just want to seal the breach and move on.”

“Pragmatic, respectable, but ultimately irrelevant…” Solas stepped further away, looking to the Breach. “I have journeyed deep into the Fade, in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past of wars both famous and forgotten… all great wars have their heroes and saviors…” he turned back to Kit, regarding him curiously, “I must wonder.. what kind you’ll be?”

“The kind that survives, I am sure… though I hope to be good, make things easier for the right people,” Kit answered, then continued, “You sleep and dream at the sites of ancient battles and ruins?”

“I do,” Solas nodded, “I find that they attract spirits of all kinds, they press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. I am able to go deep into the Fade in these places, see memories no other living being has seen.”

“I do hope you set wards and protections in such places…” Kit remarked dubiously.

“Of course. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are generally content to live and let live,” Solas gave an amused smile.

Kit nodded, “It is impressive to travel so deep into the Fade.”

“Thank you,” Solas preened, “It is not a common field of study, for obvious reasons, not so flashy as other magics. Certainly not as attention grabbing as yours. But the thrill of finding the remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything…” He turned, seeming to consider something a moment, “I will stay, then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

“Was that in doubt?” Kit wonders, “You seem somewhat of an expert, your assistance here would be invaluable to the likes of Cassandra and the others.”

Solas turned and regarded Kit with a curious look, “I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you I do not have a divine mark protecting me.”

“It is not devine-”

“Cassandra has been accommodating, but you can understand my caution,” Solas continued, ignoring Kit’s protest.

Kit sighed, “You came to help. I will not let them take advantage of the generosity.”

“And how would you stop them?” Solas gave him a dubious look.

“I am more powerful than I look,” he responded, “I may not have been trained to fight, but I can put up a damn good one.”

Solas huffs a chuckle, “I appreciate the sentiment.” He turns to study the Breach again, “For now, we must focus on finding a way to finish sealing the Breach.”

“We will.” And with that, Kit walked away, and over to the healer’s cabin nearby to deliver the notes to Adan.

Chapter Text

It was after days of waiting, resting, and some light training before Cassandra sent word to meet in the Chantry. Apparently there were people he needed to meet.

Cassandra met him at the entrance and led him back to the same room as before, the central table now covered by a pair of large maps. Fereldan and Orlais.There were already a couple of markers set in spots on both maps. 

Of the people standing around the map, he recognized all but one. The man in armor, he had seen training their meager military force. Leliana and Cassandra he’d met formally already. The last, and unrecognized woman, was wearing a noblewoman’s clothes and jewelry. She carried a scribing board and quill. 

Cassandra reintroduced Leliana as their spymaster, and put a name to the armored man: Commander Cullen; he would be in charge of their military, when they built one. The noble woman was Josephine, a diplomat.

“Andaran atish’an,” she dipped her head and greeted him in elvish.

Kit blinked in surprise, “You speak elvish and you know that I follow Dalish tradition?” he asked curiously.

She gave a sheepish smile, “I was well briefed. And unfortunately, that is all the elvish I know.”

Charming. Eager to please. “I could teach you,” He offered in response.

Josephine nodded, “That would be most appreciated.”

“Back to business,” Cassandra took up, bringing their attention back to the issue at hand. “The Breach is stable. You’ve given us time,” she nodded at Kit to indicate him, “Solas believes a second attempt might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Nor safe…” Kit commented. Too much power. It will tear us apart. “I hope you have a plan?”

“We do,” Cassandra nodded and looked to Leliana, who took a measured step towards the table.

“We could request help from the rebel mages,” She suggested, studying the map instead of the people around her. 

A facade. She is paying close attention.

Cullen sighed, “I still disagree, the Templar order would serve just as well, if not better. ”

Cassandra dropped her arms, “We need power , Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Might destroy us all!” Cullen cut her off, “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”

“Pure speculation.” Leliana cut in.

Loud. Too much. Stop. Kit grimaced at their argument.

“I was a Templar, I know what they’re capable of.”

“Enough.” Kit cut in finally, gathering his wits. “You do not know that your people could suppress the Breach. They were unable to do anything about the Rifts, what makes you think they could affect the Breach?”

“Our dear Elven Apostate wasn’t able to do much either, what assurance do you have that the mages could help?” Cullen asked in response.

“Because magic does not work that way. They would be powering the mark, not trying to contain the Breach.” Kit replied. “The Breach is unprecedented, but powering up a spell using multiple conduits and people? That is done, nigh every day.”

Josephine cleared her throat, “Unfortunately the argument is moot, neither group will speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition…” she turned to Kit, “and you… specifically.”

“Why do we need the Chantry’s approval to speak to mages that are not under their purview?” Kit tilted his head.

“Many of the mages still respect the Chantry, and their opinions.” Josephine answered.

“And the Chantry still thinks I did it?” 

“That is not the entirety of it anymore,” Josephine replied, “Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’, and that frightens the Chantry. They don’t even know of your Dalish heritage yet…”

“Technically I am entirely human. At least I think I am…” He shrugged.

“True as it may be, you are not entirely subtle ,” Leliana gave him an overly sweet smile, like she was talking to a child that didn’t know what he was playing with, “You don’t act like a human. You act, and dress, like an elf.”

A sense of superiority. Like any human. 

Kit raised a brow at her. “I was raised by elves, so… I should hope I do.” What was so great about humans anyway? He did not dare voice that in the presence of so many humans.

“Regardless,” Josephine sounded tired, taking the conversation back, “The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing no doubt,” Cassandra griped.

“It limits our options,” Josephine summarized. “Approaching the mages or the Templars is currently out of the question, they will not see us.”

“We should dissuade the Chantry and the people of the notion that I am any sort of Herald,” Kit crossed his arms, “Much less the Herald of Andraste. Just how did I become that anyway?”

“People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the Rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste,” Cassandra explained.

Genuine. Trying to help, but tired of the arguing.

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading…”

“Which we have not-”

“The point is, everyone is talking about you.” Leliana grinned. 

Kit grimaced.

Cullen spoke next, “It’s quite the title isn’t it? How do you feel about that?” 

Fishing for an answer. He is of the mind They should stop the view from spreading. 

“I do not like it. I am no Herald. Particularly Andraste.” Kit scowled.

Leliana straightened from her stance over the table, “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

“I can be a sign of hope without being their Herald. ”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” Josephine said, bringing the conversation back to the Chantry.

“Would the Chantry attack us? Directly?” Kit asked.

“With what?” Cullen laughed it off, “They only have words at their disposal.”

“And yet, they may bury us with them,” Josephine muttered.

“Do the Templars not obey the Chantry?” Kit wondered, “If they were truly concerned, would they not send the Templars to end this before it begins?”

“Not necessarily, no,” Cullen responded.

“There is something you could do,” Leliana interrupted, “A Cleric, Mother Giselle, has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than any of us . Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Kit sighed, tired already of dealing with the Chantry and their people, “I will see what she has to say…”

He left the meeting with instructions on how to find Giselle, along with an ask to expand the Inquisition’s influence, and gather volunteers and ‘agents’ to their ranks. Cassandra, at least, seemed to be looking for other options to help, rather than piling it all on him.

In the meantime, they were headed to the Hinterlands, on the outskirts of Redcliffe. Mother Giselle was helping refugees in one of the little village settlements. The area was under constant threat though, by the rebel mages and rogue Templars fighting tooth and nail to eliminate each other and gain a foothold.

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric had ‘offered’ to come with him, so he wasn’t alone in this effort either, at least.

They met with a scout near a camp on a cliff that overlooked the path down to the village. Scout Harding was a kind woman, and good at her job. She gave them the lay of the land, a copy of a hand drawn map, and told them where they’d find Giselle, along with a warning of the mages and Templars fighting between them and the village. She also mentioned the reason the Inquisition had come here in the first place: a horse master that the scouts were having trouble getting in touch with. Because the Inquisition needed horses, and someone to care for them.

There was… a lot of opposition, and with Cassandra and Solas both trying to reason with people who did not want to be reasoned with. It was a miracle they made it to the Crossroads mostly unscathed.

They found Giselle tending to the wounded, convincing a man to let a mage heal him. Saying their magic was ‘turned to noble purpose’ and comparing it to the man’s blade. 

As if their magic was inherently evil, and they had to work to make it ‘ good’ magic. As if magic was inherently a weapon first. Kit took a breath, steadying himself for this conversation before approaching the holy woman.

“You must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste,” she greeted in a thick Orleasian accent.

Kit grimaced at the title, “Not through any choice of mine. I am told you wanted to speak with me?”

“We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say, but that is not why I asked you to come,” she gestured for him to walk with her and Kit followed as she walked through the Crossroads, “I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

Kit took a minute to think back on what happened. So many people had died, mages, templars, and Chantry people alike, random civilians, gathered to see peace brokered, caught in the crossfire. Whatever really happened at that Conclave… He remembered seeing people of all types before everything went blank. There had been a Dalish scout, a noble and kind human knight, a Dwarven lyrium trader, he’d even seen a few Qunari mercenaries… It was a tragedy for everyone, not just the mages, templars, and Chantry.

“What happened was horrible…” Kit agreed finally, “Everybody will suffer for it… is suffering for it.”

Giselle nodded, “Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason.” She continued walking, observing refugees huddled around a fire, trying to chase away the chill of the approaching winter. “Go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightening tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

Kit considered it a moment, “I have heard at least one of them lobbying for my death. As if I was not even in the room. I want to believe that I can change their minds, but… will this work? I do not want to make things worse.”

“Is it because you are a mage?”

“That too…” Kit shrugged, “I have never been… good at talking to people. I say the wrong thing, miss details and meanings that other people always seem to get. I am good at reading intent, not emotion, and this… situation is very emotional.”

Giselle gave a thoughtful hum, “You seem to be doing just fine to me,” she said kindly, “Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

Kit took a breath, and nodded, “Thank you. It is kind of you to help me.”

Giselle gave him a small smile, “I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us or destroy us. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry that would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can,” she assured, before leaving him to continue helping the refugees.

Cassandra approached shortly after, suggesting they speak with a Corporal Vale, who was apparently coordinating efforts and resources for the refugees, and Vale directed them to the people he’d delegated the issues to. A hunter, worried about being charged with poaching in his effort to feed the refugees. The matter was simple enough: Cassandra assembled a hunting party of Inquisition scouts to help him, with assurances that the hunting would be legal.

Recruit Whittle was trying to figure out how to keep people from freezing in their homes in the coming winter. Fires were dangerous indoors, as the homes were not properly ventilated, and the roofs were all thatch. The only people that had spare blankets were the rebel mages, and they weren’t willing to share. Kit agreed to keep an eye out for the mages’ hidden caches. They had magic to keep warm with, they didn’t need so many spare blankets.

And then there was the matter of the horsemaster… The mages and templars were making things difficult, stopping them from moving past the bridge towards the farm. The Rifts spitting out demons all over the place certainly didn’t help matters, either. They would have to deal with all three before they could reach Dennet. That could be problematic… they had no idea where the rogue mages or templars were holed up.

Kit took a tense breath and turned sharply to head back to the forward camp. First things first. One thing at a time. Too much, mind too loud, have to get away, have to process, compartmentalize. 

Cassandra caught up to him first, “Do you have a plan?” she asked curiously.

Kitori shook his head, “No. One thing at a time. It will get dark soon, we go back to camp, and start this in the morning.”

Cassandra nodded, looking to the sky, the sun sinking readily towards the horizon, “That is wise.”

When it was fully dark, and the companions that would follow him were asleep in their tents, Kitori snuck away, to the edge of the camp. There was a cliff nearby, a pool of water fed by a waterfall and feeding another. He stood at the edge, looking over, eyes searching the forests and paths below. 

He took a breath, letting the forest air soothe his frayed nerves and calm him. Kit sank down to sit, legs tucked under him, cold water soaking into his clothes, though he did not mind the chill. He set his staff aside in the water and held his hands cupped in his lap. With one breath he held a small flame in his cupped hands. It grew and shrank with his breath, blazing and warm but never burning. He meditated, sank into his thoughts and his breath, let everything flow over him like the water flowing past his knees and over the cliff edge. 

Harding has theories, but she does not know where they are. She can narrow down the locations, but it is still a large area to search. A bird’s eye view could make the search faster. Wings alight on the wind faster than any man on the ground. 

One thing at a time. First… my magic… it is so faint… but it is there somewhere…

He breathed deeply, fire growing as large and as bright as he could maintain it, and exhaled slowly, the fire dimming in time, down to an ember as he sank into the ground and reached deep within for that connection.

There were trees but a few feet from him, growing from the waterbed, their roots made up part of the cliff. If he could just reach deep enough, he could feel them . His brow furrowed in concentration, fire blazing and dimming again as he reached . It was right there , so close . He could almost see the way the roots sank deeper into the earth, the way they were connected, the way it all was connected. 

The mark on his hand flared and sparked, but he didn’t feel the pain, pushed to the back with all the other thoughts that could distract him from reaching his magic.

It is there. We are almost there… I feel it… Almost there….

He reached , once more, straining, pushing, pulling himself towards that connection. One he’d nurtured and grown since he first felt its spark. One that was so familiar and fit so perfectly in his chest that it ached now that it was gone… 

There.  

The spark flared, and so did the fire, brighter and hotter than before, but not burning, not him, not the leaves of the trees, or the ground. It was gone in a moment, collapsing in like a star, rushing like a flood back into him as he breathed in, sinking into that connection, letting it take him. Deep into the roots and the earth. 

He smiled, pulled back into himself, resumed his breath and the fire in concert.

Next… the templars, no better than bullies and bandits now. 

The fire in his hands flickered out at the same time that his eyes flickered open. Between one breath and the next, he had changed, taken Shape, and banked on white feathered wings towards the hills and rivers where the Templars were thickest. Where the Land had told him to search, their metal loud and invasive.

Their campfires were like beacons in the night. From the sky they were easy to spot, from the ground, their light was hidden behind walls they’d made. The fortifications they’d made in such a short time… They had torn into the land, felled healthy and strong trees to build their defenses. 

His anger surged and he knew that he would not need help for this fight. 

He perched on a branch above their leader’s head as they all sat around a fire, talking and drinking and chasing away the chill. Not one of them looked up at the odd white bird perched above their heads. It would be so easy … and the Land would help him, if he asked, he could feel it again, he barely even needed to ask… 

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric… Cassandra and Varric would likely be disappointed to have missed the fight. Solas… he would be suspicious. Of what? We have nothing to hide.  

Kit ruffled his feathers and looked down on the men below. They’d shed their armor for the night, but their weapons were within reach. With his magic, with the Land at his back… he could… Yes. He did not need help for this fight. Their fortifications could never protect them from him , not with the Wilds in his veins.

He let go of his perch, gliding down into the center of them, into the flames, curling his magic around himself so they would not burn, and stood, staff in hand, in the fire. He gave them a moment to shout in surprise before calling the fire to his control. He sent it out in a wave at the Templars, burning them as they stumbled back in fear. Next came the Land, roots and vines and thorns curling up from the dirt, tangling and dragging and binding .

He cut an intimidating image, standing in their fire, appeared from nowhere like a spirit, commanding the fire and the vines in tandem. He looked down on their leader, who’d grabbed a weapon and scrambled to his feet to face him. 

Kitori Fox was not impressed, “This land does not belong to you.” He stated, and raised a hand. The Land used the magic he threaded through it, reached and clawed and dragged. 

The man screamed in anger, swinging his blade. Kit stepped forward, out of his fire, and blocked the next swing with his staff, grabbing the man’s wrist with his free hand. 

“ This land. Is not yours. ” He emphasized, and let the fire go .

He burned the man, starting at the wrist, into a crisp. The others fell to vines and thorns, tangling and choking and grasping. Wolves howled in the distance. They would finish off the survivors. As would the ravens watching him from the branches. These templars would return life to the land they’d torn apart. It would grow again.

Kit took a breath, let the rage flood from his veins, and looked around at the scene. He nodded once to himself, and took Shape again. A white songbird flew away from the grisly scene and returned to the small Inquisition camp.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Kit rose with the sun, as was his usual routine, and sat out in the trees by the waterfall to meditate as he waited for the others to wake and prepare for the day. Even here, with the water and the wind in his ears, he could still hear the camp through the roots of the trees and the blood lotus and the elfroot. He gave a content sigh as he sank into that familiar feeling, enjoying it a moment, before rising to his feet and picking up his staff to go and answer Cassandra’s question of where he was himself. 

Cassandra looked up as he approached, “Ah- there you are, we should make plans for finding the rebel mages and the rogue templars, do you have any thoughts?”

“The Templars will no longer be a problem,” Kit answered, “As for the mages… I believe Scout Harding said that they are thickest in the Witchwood? I could scout the area, see if I can spot them…”

She gave him a dubious look, “I’m sorry? What happened to the Templars? And what do you mean you could scout the area?”

Solas chose that moment to approach, “It sounds like you were busy last night, Herald.”

Kit scowled, “Please do not call me that. The Templars are dealt with. As for scouting, I can take the shape of a bird and fly over the Wood, see if I can spot their encampment. They likely have wards set, so it would be safer to scout from the sky than it would be to do so on foot.”

“I am still confused, what happened to the Templars?” Cassandra asked.

“Their metal was loud. I could not sleep. So I took care of the problem,” Kit answered with a shrug.

“On your own ?” She asked, aghast.

Kit tilted his head, “I was not alone, I had the Land and Wilds.”

“Wh…”

“Magic, Seeker,” Solas interrupted, eyeing Kit critically, “He used magic.”

I was right, he is suspicious. Of what? What does he know? What do I not know?

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “Yes, magic. Against Templars with the ability to suppress magic.”

“They cannot suppress your magic if they do not see you coming, nor if they believe you are an angry spirit or demon,” Kit grinned, “No one suspects a songbird.”

“I… see…” Cassandra answered hesitantly.

“Let us move on, we are wasting daylight,” Kit responded, turning back towards the map of the Hinterlands, spread out over the drafting table.

“Right…” Cassandra pointed at the Witchwood on the map and circled the large area with her finger, “The mages could be anywhere in this area. It is a large place to search, and like Kitori said, they’ve probably set wards, making approaching on foot dangerous.” She looked up at Kit, “You said you could scout from the air?”

Kit nodded, “It will be easy, I can guide you through the trees and help you avoid the wards and traps they will have set. I will find them first, then find you, and guide you there.”

Cassandra nodded, “How will we tell you apart from any other bird?”

“My Shape is always white,” Kit answered, “Look for the white raven, and that will be me.” He looked down at the map, and traced along the edge of the forest that bordered the village, “I will meet you at the edge, listen for a raven call and watch for white feathers.”

“What if something happens and you cannot get back to us?” Cassandra asked.

Solas nodded his agreement, “A white raven is very rare, what happens if you are discovered?”

“If, somehow, they take away my Shape, I will still escape,” He looked down, not really looking at the map, staring into the space beyond. Foxes are good at running away. The thought made him shiver, and he looked up, “In the event that I find myself trapped, I will send a flare of magic into the sky. Failing that, I will figure out something that another mage,” he nodded at Solas, “will be able to feel, so that you know, and you can find me.”

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, having just joined them, all nodded their assent. 

Cassandra caught up to walk next to him as they made their way to the village where he’d separate from them. 

“Are you going to explain what exactly happened with the Templars? Or am I going to be left wondering?” She asked curiously.

Worried. Thinks I may be dangerous. I am. Not to her, not right now. Honesty, then.

“What would you like me to tell you? That I burned them when their guard was down? Called vines and thorns to strangle them?” Kit asked, “That I appeared in their campfire in a flash of white feathers and turned their shelter against them?”

“I…”

“I am dangerous, Seeker… but only to those who threaten me and the land. Not to you.” Kit soothed as he kept walking, “A wolf has teeth, but he will only use them on threats and food. You are neither.”

“I see… thank you… I think.”

Kit nodded and was silent for a long moment, “I do not know how to say what I would like to say…”

“Oh?”

“You fear me. I… do not know if I want that or not…” Kit stated simply, “Fear will make sure you respect my power, and don’t become a threat. But I do not want to lead using fear …”

“I see…” Cassandra thought for a moment, “You want to be respected… and you are afraid that we will only respect you if we are afraid of you.”

“I am not afraid.” Kit denied. “But… yes… that is.. close enough.”

They approached the edge of the forest and Kit took a breath and turned towards his gathered companions. 

“This is where I leave you. Move if you must, I will find you, or you will find me, one way or another.” He nodded, and in the blink of an eye he was gone in a flash of feathers, leaving the croak of a raven on the wind.

He flew through the canopy, tree to tree, inspecting the wards and runes as he went. He saw a few mages, a patrolling group of mercenaries. Kit flew opposite the way they were going.

As he passed through the trees into a clearing opening on a small pond and a cave, he seemed to pass through some sort of barrier, and his Shape faded. Kit cursed as he fell towards the ground, landing hard in the pond. He groaned as he picked himself up and looked up to find himself surrounded by mages and their mercenary bodyguards. Shit.

He planted his staff and used it to drag himself to his feet, standing tall despite the situation. Kit took a deep breath in, and with a hand flung skyward, sent up a flare of fire. In an instant he brought his hand back down to his staff, spinning it once and jabbing back into the gut of the mercenary behind him. He flipped the staff over his shoulder and planted it down again, threading his magic through the movement to create a shockwave and give himself some room.

He took the moment he had to take stock of the enemies surrounding him. Three mercenaries, two with swords - one of them had a shield, and an archer. Two mages. He flung volleys of fire at the pair of them, interrupting their attempts to weave barriers around their mercenaries. 

It gave the shield man a chance to rush him. 

Kit let his breath freeze in his lungs and carry him backwards. Now he had some room. Now he could reach down . With a clawed hand he reached back up, and the land answered. Roots sprouted from their soil and tripped the melee fighters rushing him. He had to dodge the arrows himself. He took a moment to weave a barrier around himself and spun his staff hand to hand before planting it with a thread of Storm to chain lightning between his enemies. 

His barrier flickered out after deflecting a few blasts of ice from the mages’ staves. Kit hissed and threw a few more volleys at the mages. The fighters were on their feet again and closing in on him. He called for his Shape, to take the form of a wolf and fight , but it did not come. Kit cursed and blocked the sword driving towards him with his staff, twisting it around the man’s wrist to redirect the attack into his companion’s shield, an arrow grazed his armors and Kit flinched away from it. The water around his ankles froze solid, and Kit was trapped . 

Fight . Fight. Fight.

Kit gave an enraged roar and flooded his veins with fire. The fighters stumbled back from him, the ice melted, the fire flickered out and there was Frost in his lungs, carrying him back, towards the treeline, towards the invisible barrier that was keeping him from his Shape. 

Fight.

The Frost was in his lungs again, but this time it carried him forwards, into the melee. His staff flashed as he swiped and jabbed, then swung for the shield man’s feet, knocking him off balance. He reached forward with a hand on fire and let his fire jump to the wooden shield with a low growl as he turned towards the swordsman. 

The shieldman screamed and shook his arm free of the shield, dropping it into the water, putting it out, but Kit was already moving again, his staff a whirling threat around him, keeping them from getting close. 

The swordsman made a jab at him. Kit blocked and redirected with a flick of the staff, sinking the man’s sword deep into his companion’s gut. His eyes flickered to the archer as the two swordsmen were rendered non threats. The mages threw frost at him and Kit hissed as his shoulder froze in ice and turned towards them with a snarl. The ice melted quickly. An arrow followed, sinking past his armor and deep into the meat of his shoulder.

Kit dropped his staff and grabbed at the shaft of the arrow with a pained shout. 

Fight.

The Land answered, roots and vines and thorns sprouting from the undergrowth to snatch at the three enemies. Binding their legs and wrapping them tightly, thorns pricked and tore painfully as Kitori yanked the arrow from his shoulder and dropped it into the water.

The bowman scrambled, fumbling with the arrows in his quiver before he finally picked one, fletching painted red at the tips. He drew and fired before Kit could even blink.

Numb…

His fire flickered. The undergrowth loosened, ceased its attack…The arrow stuck out of his thigh.

Magebane…

Kit turned on his heel as he heard splashing behind him, just in time to see the pommel of the sword swinging for his head.

The strike reflected off a barrier with an almost explosive force and the swordsman stumbled back, Cassandra following up swiftly, shoving the man back with her shield. 

Kit’s head swung around to the treeline. Solas was standing there, throwing magic from the tip of his staff as Varric weaved between the trees between reloading and shooting. 

Between the three of them, the mages, archer, and remaining swordsman fell quickly. Kit took a breath, letting the adrenaline drain from his system, steadying his hand before pulling the arrow out of his leg.

“You okay?” Varric asked as they grouped up around him. 

“You’re bleeding-” Cassandra sounded almost panicked.

Kit held up a hand to stop them, “I was a healer before I was a fighter.” He rested one hand on his shoulder, and the other on his leg, and wove a healing spell through the wounds. It was not as effective as he had hoped thanks to the magebane tipped arrow. “I will be fine.”

He turned towards the mouth of the cave, protected by a visible ward.

“We should fall back,” Cassandra suggested, “Let the Inquisition forces finish them off, we know where they are now…”

“We are here,” Kit stated simply, “Solas and I can break through that ward. Perhaps even tear down the one that took me out of the sky… We can take them.”

“You are injured.”

“I am fine.” Kit replied quickly.

“He has a point, Seeker,” Varric shrugged, “We are already here…”

Cassandra sighed and looked to Solas, who shrugged as he replied, “I do not see the harm in continuing.”

“Fine then,” she motioned them at the barrier, “Let’s make this quick.”

Kit nodded and stepped towards the barrier. It burned, hot and aggressive. He took a breath and sank into his magic, gathering ice in his hands and focusing into his staff for a focused blast of cold. Beside him, Solas copied the frost spell, and between the two of them, the barrier fell quickly.

Cassandra stayed close to Kit throughout the battle, helping shield him from blasts of frost or the blades and arrows of the mercenaries. With her defense, Solas’ barrier, and Varric running interference, the battle was over quickly. 

Cassandra and Varric each had a little frostbite from the leader of these mages, but they’d be fine after a while by the campfire. 

Cassandra insisted on going back to camp after the fight.  

She sat him down at the campfire with everyone else and shoved a bowl of stew into his hands before sitting down next to him with her own bowl.

Kit grimaced at the chunks of meat floating in the stew and handed it off to a hungry looking scout warming her hands by the fire and turned to Cassandra, “Apologies, I do not eat meat.”

“I see… is there a reason why? Our options are limited out here…” Cassandra replied.

“There are a few,” Kit shrugged, and dug through his bag for some of his dried fruits and nuts, “I do not like the taste, or the texture, and it feels… wrong … in some way. But I will not make my preferences everyone else’s problem,” he held up his pouch of little rations.

She nodded and dug into her own meal without further question.

After a long while, when they were finished eating and preparing to bed down for the night, Cassandra approached him again.

“One day, you will be injured, and you will try to press on, like today, and it will get you killed,” She warned, “I do not want to see that happen…”

“I know my limits, Seeker,” Kit assured her, “I have had much worse than I did today.”

“Perhaps, but just because you have had worse, does not mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

With that, she left him to prepare for sleep in peace.

The next morning saw the little group hiking towards the farm where the horsemaster was supposed to be. The rumored Rift near said farm was hard to miss, sitting in the air just above the waterfall crossed by a broken bridge. 

Even far enough away that his mark wasn’t reacting to it, there was an unnatural chill in the air, and Kit knew that this fight would be… difficult . They would have to strategize, but they didn’t even know what was coming. Kit could feel the terror and despair emanating from the Rift, but it wasn’t enough, it was covering something else, and they had no way to know where, or how many, would appear.

“We need a plan,” Cassandra stated, echoing his thoughts.

“Agreed,” Varric nodded.

Solas hummed thoughtfully and turned to him, “Kitori, what do you feel?”

Kit gave him a curious look, “Terror and Despair. Powerful, but they are masking something else…”

Solas nodded, “I feel it too… any thoughts as to what it might be?”

Kit looked back towards the Rift and dug through the terror and despair wafting from it, considered the emotions, how they would affect him, what he would do…

“Rage.” Kit answered finally, “Not as strong as the others… but it is there, feeding off of the combination of terror and despair.”

Solas nodded thoughtfully, taking in Kit’s observation, “I take it you have a plan?” He prompted.

Kit gave a single, firm nod, “My fire will melt through Despair. You seem well able to handle Terror. Once they are banished back to the Fade, the Rage will fade away naturally. In the event that it does not, we will be able to handle it, it is not as powerful as the others. Varric and Cassandra will cover us from the shades and whisps.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Varric grinned, hoisting his crossbow.

Cassandra nodded, “It is a solid plan.”

So they climbed down from the broken bridge into the river, standing knee deep in the freezing water and trudging through, closer to the Rift.

His mark sparked and hurt as he got close, but he tightened his grip on his staff as they made their way down to the bottom of the waterfall, where the Fade was coalescing at points, showing them where the demons would apparate. 

Kit stood close to the coldest one and gathered his fire around himself to shield himself from the chill of Despair. The moment the demon appeared, he unleashed the inferno, pushing a wave of fire at the ragged figure.

He could hear the screech of a Terror demon behind him, and turned to look over his shoulder, Solas was beating it back with waves of energy. He focused back on his demon, using his staff as a focus to fling blast after blast of fire at it. 

It gained its bearings after a moment, and screamed at him, blasting his next attack apart with a wave of cold . Kit could almost feel ice in his veins . Hear the rattle of chains and the clang of tools on stone and the crack- 

Fight.

He flooded his veins with Rage and fire and screamed back. The small Rage demon took notice and grew slightly, feeding on his fury. It didn't matter, they could handle it. He kept attacking, drowning out the noise around him to focus on the Despair demon in front of him. 

A screech broke through the din and a green glow opened up underneath him, dragging his attention towards it. 

“No!” Solas shouted in frustration, trying to keep the Terror from jumping through its rift.

It was too powerful to stop, and Kit was knocked onto his back in the water. He could feel the claws of terror dig into his chest.  

Enough.

Kit rose from the water, movements dragging as if he were moving through sap. 

He spun his staff in one hand, movements speeding up despite the Terror’s slow aura, and jabbed the end of it into the torso of the demon, pushing as much magic as he could into the blow and throwing the demon back. It collided with the cliff wall of the ravine they stood in and melted away.

He turned back towards the Despair demon, which had gotten some distance and was preparing to throw more ice at him. He batted aside the waves of blizzard with his own waves of fire. The water around his feet was boiling now. It didn’t take many more blasts of fire to destroy the Despair demon. 

The others were shouting, but he paid them no mind as the Rift opened again and four more demons prepared to claw their way through. As if his warning was an empty threat. 

Kit scowled as two of each of the demons clawed through. He could feel exhaustion tugging at him. 

Shaking. Body heavy. Fight anyway.  

He growled and focused blasts of fire and lightning at the Despair demons, swinging his staff at the Terrors who got too close. One dug its claws through his back, making him scream, though he hardly felt it as he turned and used his hand in its face to blast it with fire . It burned away with a scream and the Despair demons took their opportunity to blast him with ice across his exposed side. He hissed and staggered, but kept his feet and turned back to them. Solas was handling the other Terror now, keeping it distracted. Cassandra and Varric were attempting to fight one of the Despair demons. 

Kit chained lightning between the three, following it up with a volley of fire at the one Cassandra and Varric were targeting, finally, raising his hand to unleash a blast of fire on the one left over. 

Head pounding. Mana exhausted. Draw deeper. Use the land. 

He raised a hand and the land responded. It shook as the roots deep under the rocks and water rose and tangled around the feet of the Despair demons, holding them in place for their attacks, tightening and straining and shattering their barriers. 

The Terror demon fell to Solas’ attacks, and the elf turned to help him with the Despair demon not occupied by their companions. 

The two remaining demons fell almost simultaneously as they all focused their attacks.

Kit sagged as they melted away, leaving the Rift vulnerable, his chance to close it. He staggered towards it, breathing hard, staff falling from his fingers.

Cassandra caught him as his knees gave out.

Solas approached and wove a healing spell through him.

Kit groaned and took his weight back on his feet, moving towards the Rift again. Have to close it. This will not happen again. 

He didn’t remember closing it, but he did remember the thunderous crack of it sealing before darkness swallowed him. 

Chapter Text

Dark… Dark it’s too dark. 

The jangle of chains and metal in the distance. Keys clinking. Metal door dragging… Light. Too bright.  

Black eyes staring, watching. Too many eyes. Watching and judging and shaming and-

Fight. 

Claws and blood and fur and and and-

LOUD

Cheering? Jeering. Blood dripping from our hands… They made us fight and kill. Again. Again. AGAIN. 

Flashes. Images. Caves and chains and metal and close it’s too close can’t breathe- Help!

No one to help us here… Alone. It's too loud… 

A chill and ice in his veins and in his heart. Despair… It can’t even reach us here… They’ve set wards against it… 

Hunger gnawing at our bones. Cold and weak and thirsty… They wish to test our resolve.

Dehydrated… Starving… They will break our body first… 

Metal in the distance. Keys. Door. Light. Fight!

His body only twitches at his command.

Too weak. Cannot see… who…

Sneering and laughing and a boot in our ribs. The whisper of leather. The tink of some light metal hitting the stone. Something cuts through the air-

Pain.

Again. Again. Again.

AGAIN. 

STOP.

Kitori jolted awake, fire in his hands as he attempted to defend himself.

A startled shout, the sound of someone stumbling back.

He looks over, catching his breath, sitting up. Cassandra. Solas and Varric were staring…

He opened his mouth to apologize, but no sound came out. 

Varric sighed, looking over at Cassandra, “Seeker, I thought you had experience . Don’t you know better than to wake a mage having a bad dream?”

“Apparently not,” Solas supplied, and stepped closer to Kit, who flinched reflexively, “but she is not what woke him.”

Kit gave him a curious look and shuffled back, put his back up against a tree, and took in his surroundings. 

It was an Inquisition camp, but not the same one they had been using, a new one. He could hear the waterfall in the distance, nearby there was the gentle rumble of a creek. He took stock of himself next while the others argued. He was sore and stiff, someone had bandaged his wounds… someone had seen… do not think about it. Move on to the next thing. His head hurt, it felt like he was submerged in sap. He’d overtaxed his magic. 

He looked up again. Solas and Cassandra had moved off to pack their things, Varric was sitting near him, but far enough to not be imposing.

“How you feeling, Fox?” He asked casually.

Kit looked over at him and shook his head, gesturing at his throat.

“Lost your voice?” 

Kit shrugged and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“That bad huh?” Varric asked rhetorically, “I’ve got quite a few mage friends, I know how this goes. You’re stressed, kinda feels like the demons stole your voice? Even though you know it’ll come back in a little while.”

Kit nodded a little.

“Well, we’ve got time, you sealed that rift up, so it’s all good. You need to rest anyway, Chuckles says you used more magic than you really have .” Varric shrugged, “Magical over extension can mess you up, so far as I’ve seen. You’re lucky. It was quite the show you put on there. Certainly freaked the hell outta the Seeker,” he chuckled.

Kit gave him a curious look.

“What? You didn’t realize? When that terror demon knocked you down and hit you, it was like someone else stood up. I mean… it looked like you, sounded like you, but it was… different ,” he shrugged, “I don’t really know how to explain it,” he gave a sardonic laugh, “It’s not often people leave me at a loss for words. Hmp… Lucky …. It suits you.”

Kit rolled his eyes.

Solas approached and Kit looked up at him. The elf handed him a potion, “For the magical exhaustion.”

Kit nodded and swallowed it, the sap-slow feeling fading as it settled into his system.

He handed the phial back, tapping the fingertips of his other hand at his chin and motioning out. Solas simply nodded, took the empty phial, and sat down.

“What do you remember about yesterday?” He asked curiously.

Kit shrugged a little, scratching lightly at his throat.

“He’s nonverbal, Chuckles,” Varric rolled his eyes, “Don’t ask him questions he can’t answer.”

Solas studied him critically.

Kit raised a brow back, almost challenging him. What does he know? Why is he so suspicious? 

“Well, in that case… you’re lucky to be alive, Kitori. You may not have felt it at the time, but the demons’ claws cut deep. The extent of your magical exhaustion on top of that, and I am surprised you weren’t unconscious for much longer. As it stands, it has only been a day.”

Then it was him… 

Varric grimaced, “I don’t think now’s the time for all that…”

Kit frowned and looked at Varric curiously. 

“I mean… you just woke up, and you’re stressed as it is. I don’t think now’s a good time to be grilling you over your injuries and shit.”

Kit shook his head and gestured at Solas, as if prompting him to continue.

Solas smirked at Varric, then looked back at Kit, “That is all there is to tell, in that regard. I treated your wounds as best I could, but somebody else could probably do it better.”

Kit shook his head and waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

Cassandra came over a moment later, “If we want to get to the farm before dark, we should leave now. With luck, they will let us bed down there for the night.” 

Kit nodded and grabbed for his staff, laid out next to where he’d woken up, and used it to help himself up to his feet. It hurt, but certainly not as much as it could have, considering it had only been a day.

Varric helped roll up the mat he’d been laid out on and stow it within the camp, and Solas handed him his bag.

Kit nodded his thanks, slung the pack over his shoulder, and motioned for Cassandra to lead the way. 

Cassandra spoke to Horsemaster Dennet at the door, and as it turned out, he was perfectly willing to lend his horses to the Inquisition, but he needed to be sure they’d be safe, and actually arrive at Haven. There were problems with that, apparently, there were wolves acting especially aggressive, and not at all like regular wolves, and there were bandits, capitalizing on the chaos of the fighting.

Dennet’s wife had an idea of where the wolves might be holed up, and his farmhand had an idea for watchtowers, which the Inquisition could build and man. 

As the sun started setting, he showed them to the lean-to by the barn where they could set up their bedrolls, and offered a campfire in a small burn pit far enough away to not be a hazard, but close enough to be convenient. 

As they sat around the campfire to eat, Kit found his voice again, though it was quiet and halting, “I could d-deal with the wolves.” He offered.

The others looked at him curiously, prompting him to continue and he grimaced, and coughed a bit to clear his voice. 

“They-ey, are… acting.. strange.” He pointed out, “I am… good with animals. I can f-find th-em, aand figure out- the problem..” 

Cassandra hummed, “It might be a good idea to split up in these tasks, Varric and I could scout out the locations for the towers, while you and Solas hunt down the wolves.”

Kit shook his head, “Not hunting-“ he insisted.

She raised a brow at him, “Then… what is your plan?”

“Solve the problem.” Kit shrugged, “I have ideas.. what it- might be. Too so-on to tell.”

“How do you plan on doing any of that?” Varric asked.

“From the shape of a wolf,” he answered, voice getting a bit smoother as he spoke more, “I know what I am doing.”

“Wasn’t questioning that, just… what if it’s an issue you can’t solve?” 

“Then I will put them down,” Kit answered solemnly, “Wolves are not unreasonable. I am confident that I can solve this problem.”

“If you say so…” Varric shrugged, “I guess the Seeker and I have the easy job then.”

As it happened, Varric and Cassandra very much did have the easy job. 

Kit took the shape of a wolf after encountering a small group of them. The pack had attacked savagely, with no regard for their safety or that of their packmates. This was not how wolves behaved. 

So Kit put his nose to the ground and began tracking them. 

“You shapeshift much easier than any other mage I’ve met,” Solas commented idly, “Like it’s as simple as summoning a blast of fire.”

Kit looked up at him and ruffled his fur before turning back to the trail he’d picked up. 

Solas simply hummed and continued to follow him. 

They found the rest of the pack occupying a grotto. Within the grotto, they found the reason for the wolves having gone savage. They were under the control of a demon. 

All in all, the pair made quick work of them, Kit keeping the wolves at bay with his vines and roots, while Solas destroyed the demon. 

They were trekking back to the farm when Solas spoke again, “How is it that you shapeshift so easily?” 

Kit shrugged, “I have been able to since I was a child. I always just called it Shape…”

“Curious…” Solas hummed, “You didn’t even know that it was a feat of magical prowess, did you?”

“No,” Kit answered simply, “I did not. It is just something I do, hardly have to think about it. Though I rarely see other mages do it, so I figured it was simply a rare ability.”

Solas huffed a laugh, “Every question answered just leaves me with more.”

They arrived at the camp to find Cassandra and Varric already waiting for them. 

With the wolves taken care of, and the Inquisition now building watchtowers, Dennet promised his horses to the Inquisition. Cassandra was even able to convince him to see to the horses personally.

When they returned to Haven, it was to a storm of voices outside the Chantry. Mages and Templars blaming each other for the death of the Divine, and Cullen at the center, trying to keep the peace. 

Chancellor Roderick joined the center as well, questioning Cullen on the viability of this Inquisition. Eventually they got the crowd to move on, but Roderick stuck around, persistent and annoying as they wished Cullen luck in keeping the peace as they headed for the Chantry. 

Josephine and Leliana, joined later by Cullen and Cassandra, argued about sending him to Val Royeaux, and the potential dangers. 

Finally, Josephine turned to him, “Let us ask him. You are the one at risk, after all.”

Kit tilted his head, “I am not sure I understand the dangers… it is just words? Yes?”

“Do not underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade,” Leliana warned.

“That does not make sense…” Kit wondered, “Words are words, they are…” he grimaced and muttered a bit, “not real? I do not remember the common word…. A blade is steel, it is real, it is… physical. Words are not.”

“Perhaps, but their words may undermine the Inquisition’s power and influence, and without power and influence, we will get nowhere with either the mages or the templars, and the Breach goes unsealed,” Leliana explained, “Not to mention the fact that many still hold you responsible for the death of the Divine, and will call for your execution.”

“ Oh .” Kit nodded, “Yes, that makes more sense.”

“I will go with him,” Cassandra offered, “Mother Giselle gave us names? Use them to get an audience.”

Leliana protested, “But why? This is nothing but a-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana?” Cassandra interrupted, “You said it yourself, their words will undermine our power and influence, and without that, we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we do have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

A couple cowered from them as they approached the gates. They fear us. Good. But… we are trying to help… but fear will make sure they respect me… Kitori frowned at the conflicting feelings as Varric and Cassandra traded banter.

A scout met them at the gate and called him ‘lord Herald’, deepening his grimace as Cassandra responded before he could ask her not to call him that.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?” she asked.

“The Chantry mothers await you, but… so do a great many templars,” the scout reported.

“There are templars here?” Cassandra seemed surprised. 

The scout nodded, “People seem to think the templars will protect them from… from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the templars intend to meet you.”

Cassandra nodded and started walking, leading the party through the gates as she continued to talk, “They wish to protect the people? From us?” She asked, aghast.

“Protect them from the ‘blasphemous Herald of Andraste’, I am sure,” Kitori responded finally, grimacing at the taste of the title in his mouth. He hated to acknowledge it, let alone say it . Not theirs. Not their Herald. 

“ Surely they cannot think such a thing!” Cassandra protested.

Kit rolled his eyes, “I do not see why not. They would not be the only ones.”

Too elf for the humans, too human for the elves. 

“Do you think the Order’s returned to the fold?” Varric wondered, “To deal with us upstarts?”

“I know Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra responded, “I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred.”

“The potential for trouble has increased then,” Kit surmised, “Hopefully they are not here for a fight.”

“Perhaps…” Cassandra turned to the scout, “Return to Haven, someone will need to inform them, if we are… delayed.”

The scout bowed in response and turned to leave as the part continued into the city center.

Kit felt his shoulders tense. Too many walls. Too many eyes. He felt Solas behind him, an aura of free and calm surrounding him, sapping the tension from Kit, even as he remained on guard.

He took a steadying breath as they approached the stage where three of the clergy were standing, flanked by templar guards.

Josephine and Leliana had briefed him on who to expect, so he knew who Revered Mother Hevara was when she started talking.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” She crowed, “Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart, silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste!” Pointing to Kitori in the crowd, easy to spot with his staff and white hair, “Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no mage in our hour of need!”

Kit steeled himself and took a step forward, rather than back. Scared and desperate for answers. Blaming us so that she does not fear the dark. So that she has something to blame. 

“I never claimed to be sent by the Maker or Andraste,” He stated calmly, “I just want to help close the Breach. It threatens all life.”

“It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!” Cassandra insisted, stepping up beside him. 

“It is already too late! ” Hevara proclaimed, pointing off stage at a squad of approaching templars, “The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this “Inquisition,” and the people will be safe once more!”

The templars climbed onto the stage and one of them threw a gauntleted fist across Hevara’s face, sending a ripple of shock and outrage through the crowd.

Kit took a defensive stance, hand going to his staff on reflex. “What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

The leader turned to eye him critically, “Her claim to ‘authority’ is an insult. Much like your own.”

“I claim no authority,” Kit denied.

“Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with-”

“You will not address me,” The Lord Seeker cut Cassandra off as he stepped down from the stage, the templars following him.

“Lord Seeker?” Cassandra questioned, shocked.

The Lord Seeker sneered, “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

Assured and full. He believes this. He does not fear the Breach, or the demons. A hunger for power.

Kit scowled as he watched the templars gather and left. He noticed one, unsure and questioning. Kit made a mental note of him as the Lord Seeker turned to make one final address.

“I will make the templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing. Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!” And with that, the templars left through the gates.

Kit scowled after them, “Fortunately the templars are not our only hope.”

“Do not write them off so quickly. There must be those in the Order who see what he’s become,” Cassandra proposed. 

Kit grunted, “Maybe…”

Cassandra hummed, “Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others.”

Kit turned towards the stage, where Hevara was still on the ground, clergy praying over her. He sighed and approached. 

Hevara looked up, “This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra.”

“We came here only seeking to speak with the mothers. This is not our doing, but yours,” Cassandra replied, crossing her arms.

Hevara huffed, “And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself. Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions.” She looked over at Kit, “Just tell me one thing: if you do not believe you are the Maker’s chosen, then what are you?”

Kit sighed and climbed the stage to kneel by her, “Someone who can help. A victim of circumstance. A lot of things, really, but, mostly, someone who wants to help…” He reached for his bag, digging through it for herbs and medicines.

“That is… more comforting than you might imagine,” the Mother sighed, dropping her head, even as she watched him warily.

“Among the things I am is a healer,” Kit adjusted to sit with his legs crossed beneath him, “I can help now , if you would have it.” He eyed the praying clergy dubiously, “Treatment is more effective than prayer…”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, “And just how do you plan to heal me?”

Kit gave a wry smile and held up his herbs, “No magic, just herbs and potions.” 

She gave a tentative nod and Kit started to strip an elfroot stem, mashing it in a mortar with a pestle. 

“Where did you learn this?” She asked. 

Doubtful. Has not seen these methods. Does not trust. 

“The Dalish. I was not raised by humans.” Kit explained simply, adding a bit of embrium to his mixture. “They have to rely on themselves, and what they can forage for healing and medicine. They do well, and have learned much.” He finished the concoction by adding water, mixing and turning it into a potion. He handed her the mortar, “You do not have to trust me, or my methods, or the people I consider mine. Just believe that I believe I can help, and that I want to help.”

She hummed thoughtfully and took the mortar from him, “I suppose we shall see…” Hesitantly, she drank the potion and handed the mortar back to him.

Kit nodded and smiled as the bruising faded from her face, and helped her to her feet. 

“I promise you this: I will find a way to restore peace, ” Kit stated, tucking his supplies away.

“Then I hope against hope that you succeed.”

Kit gave her a respectful dip of his head, and stepped away, hopping down from the stage to rejoin his group.

Chapter Text

A lot seemed to happen after the templars left. An arrow thunked into the ground nearby, a message tied to the shaft, Kitori was invited to see a Viviene de Fer in a few days, and finally, they were approached by a city elf wearing the robes of a circle mage.

“If I might have a moment of your time?” She asked, voice low as if this meeting was a secret.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra seemed surprised to see her.

Solas tilted his head at her, “Leader of the Mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

Fiona nodded slightly, “I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. If it’s help with the breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.”

Kit tilted his head curiously, “I was hoping the mages would help, but you would not speak to us before? What changed?”

“Because now I’ve seen what you are. And I’ve seen the Chantry for what it is,” Fiona answered, “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revior, my Lord Herald.”

Kit grimaced as she left and turned to his companions, “I will never be rid of that title will I?”

Cassandra just smirked at him, “Come. Let us return to Haven.”

“Hold on a moment, I want to see what this turns up,” Kit held up the message that had been attached to the arrow, and turned back into the city to find the clues the note had mentioned. 

Three notes together and a key lead them to a hidden little alley in the middle of the night, the guards there scrambling, shouting about it being him before going on the attack.

Kit scowled and called upon his magic. There was no land here to call, but he had fire, he had ice, and he had the storm. He hated the city. Even throwing blast after blast of elemental magic at these attackers, even killing them and burning them to ash he felt stifled and weak without the land at his back. With a roar, Kit called one final strike from the storm and finished them off.

He looked over at his companions, all up and now relaxing, lowering their weapons. Kit moved towards the gate in the back. 

As soon as the gate opened, a blast of fire rocketed by, missing him and his group completely. Kit raised a brow at the source, a man in noblemans’ attire, looking awfully full of himself for someone who just failed to strike his target. 

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!” The man crowed. 

“And… who are you, exactly?” Kit wondered.

“You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!” The man shouted, confusing Kit more.

There was a grunt of pain behind the man as one of his guards fell, a city elf standing behind him with a bow, which she drew, aimed at the nobleman, “Just say ‘what’ !” She challenged with a smirk.

“What is the-” 

The arrow was loosed and the man was cut off in a bloody choking mess, crumpling to the ground with an arrow in his face. 

“Eww!” The girl complained even as she approached the body. “Squishy one, but you heard me, right?” She chuckled, leaning down to retrieve her arrow, “‘Just say ‘What.’’ Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. ‘Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!’ So you followed the notes well enough, glad to see you’re….” She finally paused as she looked up at him, “you're kind of plain, really. All that talk, and then you’re just… a person.”

Kit tilted his head, “What else would I be?”

“Well there was talk sayin’ you were all elfy, but you’re not! But I mean, it’s all good innit? The important thing is: you glow? You’re the Herald thingy?”

He heaved a sigh, “Despite my numerous protests… Some call me that. Why? Who are you? What is all of this about ?” He questioned, gesturing at the body.

“No idea. I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him,” She shrugged. 

“Your people?”

“Yeah! Y’know people ! Name’s Sera,” She gestured at the crates around them, “This here’s cover, get ‘round it!” She laughed as she jumped a crate to duck behind it, “For the reinforcements! Don’t worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches!” She giggled.

The guards burst through the gates and Kit couldn’t help but laugh, noticing that they indeed had no ‘breeches’. With the guards having… minimal armor, the fight was over quickly, and he regrouped with Sera, to hopefully get a proper explanation.

Sera laughed as they joined up, “Friends really came through with that tip. No breaches! So, Herald of Andraste. You’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

Kit grimaced, “Please do not call me that. My name is Kitori Fox. I would like to know what exactly is going on here before anything else?”

Sera chuckled, “You are weird, huh? Most people would take a title like that and let it go to their heads! But this? It’s… well, it’s like this-”

“I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That’s me. Well, I’m one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It’s just a name, yeah? It lets little people, “Friends,” be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I’m Sera. “The Friends of Red Jenny” are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows.”

“So the ‘Red Jenny’s” are spies? People who listen, and watch,” Kit surmised.

“Pff- I know what a spy is, you don’t gotta explain it to me!”

“That was more for my own-”

She cut him off as she kept talking, “Here’s how it is. You ‘important’ people are up here, shoving your cods around. ‘Blah, blah, I’ll crush you. I’ll crush you!’” She paused, making kissy noises, of all things, “‘Oh, crush you.’” She paused and blushed a bit, cleared her throat, and continued, “Then you’ve got cloaks and spy-kings. Like this tit. Or was he one of the little knives, all serious with his… little knife. All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some houseboy who don’t know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I’m not Knifey Shivdark, all hidden.  But if you don’t listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their… Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?”

“Alright,” Kit acquiesced, “I suppose we are not really in a position to turn down the help.”

She grinned, “Yes! Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches, because I have all these… you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand.”

“Kit,” he corrected, even as she left. He sighed as she didn’t seem to hear, or care.

Cassandra stepped up next to him, watching her leave, “Well that was…” she trailed off.

“Certainly something…” Varric surmised.

“We should get back to Haven, then we can take a closer look at that invitation, and discuss meeting with the rebel mages,” Cassandra suggested.

Kitori nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine met them in the hall of the Chantry.

“It’s a shame the templars abandoned their senses as well as the capitol,” Cullen stated with a disappointed shake of his head.

“We had to do something, and now we have an opportunity,” Kit reminded.

Josephine nodded, “Yes, now we have the opening we need to approach the templars and the mages.”

“Do we?” Cassandra questioned, “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

“True. He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd,” Leliana commented, folding her arms as she thought on said reports.

Cullen frowned, “We must look into it. I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

“Or Kitori could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” Josephine suggested, looking at him.

Cullen stopped and turned to face Josephine, “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!” He argued.

“I would rather speak to the mages. At least find out what they want?”

Cassandra scoffed, “No doubt what they’ve always wanted: support for their cause.”

Kit frowned at her, “Their cause? Their ‘ cause’ is a want of freedom. To not be jailed in gilded cages for the crime of existing .” He scowled, irritated by her dismissal of them.

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk,” Josephine suggested, trying to break the sudden tension. 

“They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize,” Cassandra stuck her nose up slightly.

Kit clenched his jaw to not lash out at her, “As if it would be any safer to approach the templars. You know, the ones who keep people like me on tight leashes? I am sure they would be so pleased to have a wild and unpredictable mage strutting around their compound, hm?”

“That’s not fair-”

“Neither are you, Seeker,” Kit growled, “Speaking to the mages may very well be dangerous, but the Templars are just as bad, if not more so.”

With that, Kit turned on his heel and walked back towards the door of the Chantry, intending to leave and put some distance between himself and Cassandra. 

“Kitori,” he looked over his shoulder at Leliana as she called him. The others were leaving, deeper into the Chantry.

He sighed and turned to face her.

“There was one other thing I wanted you to know about. Maybe a lead on what happened at the Conclave. Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is… curious,” she explained.

Kit nodded thoughtfully, “Why tell me?”

“The others have disregarded my suspicion,” she answered, “but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“I will try, I suppose… but what if he does not have answers either?”

“Then there may be more going on than we thought…”

Kit sighed, “Oh that would be just grand , hm…”

As he left the Chantry, he saw a man in armor, unfamiliar, and looking lost. 

The man grabbed his attention when he noticed Kitori, “Excuse me, I’ve got a message for the Inquisition. But I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

Kit studied the man briefly, “Who are you? What is the message?”

He straightened a bit, “Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers. Mercenary company. We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

“So this is more of an offer of assistance than actual information on what the Tevinter are doing over here?” 

Cremisius shrugged, “Iron Bull wants to work with the Inquisition, he thinks you’re doing good work.”

“Tell me about this Iron Bull, then?”

“He’s a Qunari, y’know, the big guys with the horns?” Kit nodded his understanding and Cremisius continued, “He leads us from the front, he pays well, and he’s a lot smarter than the last bastard I worked for. Best of all, he’s professional. We accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer. You’re the first time he’s gone out of his way to pick a side.”

Reaching and prodding. Testing. We are in no position to turn away a strong fighting force. He can tell.  

“I will look forward to meeting him then. The Storm Coast, you said? I will meet your company there, and we can deal with the Tevinter, then discuss the Chargers joining the Inquisition.”

Cremisius nodded, “Sounds good. We’re the best you’ll find.” With that, the man marched back towards the gates and left. 

Kit sighed and turned back into the Chantry to study the map and find the best way to the Storm Coast. Tevinter mercenaries here… wonder what they are up to… what, maybe who, they are looking for…. Need to deal with them before they get far. So much for going to meditate.  

According to Scout Harding, some men had gone missing after going to negotiate with some mercenaries down the Coast.

Then there was the sound of fighting, just down the hill. The Tevinter mercenaries. 

Kit scowled and took the shape of a raven, covering the short distance in only a moment, landing in the middle of the scuffle on his feet as he shed the feathers. He took in the sharp angles of the Tevinter men for only an instant before swinging his staff around to clear a space around him and chain lightning between them, their metal armor conducting the storm and frying four of them in one go. 

One man with a sword tried to charge him, and Kitori let the blizzard in his lungs spill forth and met the soldier half way, staff swinging an arc and redirecting the blade to knock into the ground. Kit held a hand up and let the wildfire rush from his fingertips and burn , heating the metal and sending the man stumbling back in a screaming mess of melting helmet and flaming cloth. 

He saw a more lithe member of the Tevinter group sneaking up on the occupied Qunari that had to be Iron Bull and weaved a barrier over the large man. Flimsy as his barrier was, it was enough to repel the Tevinter rogue’s knife, and the Qunari roared as he swung his ax in a wide arc, cutting down the mercenaries surrounding him. 

As the last of the Tevinter fell, Iron Bull took a look around, his eyes finding the same messenger from before, “Chargers, stand down! Krem! How’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, Chief, no dead!” ‘Krem’ answered, helping one of his companions to sit down against a boulder. 

Iron Bull grinned, “That’s what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.” He turned to Kit, looking down at him, “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming,” the Qunari gestured for Kit to follow him, walking over to a rock he could sit on. 

Kitori remained standing as the Bull sat down, leaving them closer to eye level.

“Any idea what the Tevinter are looking for out here?” Kit asked

“Nope,” Bull shrugged, “Their orders were either burned or word of mouth only, no chance to make any of ‘em talk, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. The Vints are usually very subtle.”

“No,” Kit agreed, “They are not.”

He spotted Krem approaching, and Bull spoke again, “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

“Good to see you again,” Krem greeted, which Kit returned with a nod, “Throatcutters are done, chief.”

“Already? Have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.” Bull smirked.

Krem chuckled as he walked back towards the rest of the company, “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

Iron Bull turned back towards Kit, “So… you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Kitori nodded, “The Chargers seem like a good company, you work well together.”

Iron Bull nodded, standing up, “They are. But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is—demons, dragons? The bigger the better. And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Kitori tilted his head, “Rumors and myths only, I am sure. Doubt anything I heard was the truth, considering where I heard it from.”

“Oh?”

Kitori shook his head and gestured for Bull to continue with his point.

“Hm.. Well, it’s a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, we’re spies,” He explained. 

Honest. Too honest. Leading and impressing. Wants us to think he is honest. 

“The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

Eager to explain. Eager to gain trust. Liar. 

Kit narrowed his eyes at him, and Bull met him with his one eyed stare, unmoved by his scrutiny. A good liar, at that.

“Liar” Kitori accused, folding his hands behind his back, subtly grabbing for his staff, just in case, “You may have told the truth now, but you are a liar.”

Bull seemed surprised, “What, exactly am I lying about, then?”

“I do not know. A lot of things, I suspect.” He eyed Krem over Iron Bull’s shoulder, “Your lieutenant did not try to speak to anyone else, did he? You sent him to speak to me, specifically. You wanted him to scout me out, figure me out, so you would know what to expect. You wanted him to give me the information, because, somehow, you knew I specifically would act on it.” He shifted his gaze back to Bull, watching him carefully for any threat of violence. Stance open, hands far from his weapons. He wants to pose no threat. 

“You want us to believe you are honest. The best liars lead with the truth, and you are no different. You have given a large truth, you have told us that you are a spy and that you have been ordered to join the Inquisition, but for that one truth, you are hiding ten secrets behind it.”

Bull huffed a chuckle, “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. No one’s ever read me that easily before, yet you make me look like an open book. If you want me to fuck off, I will,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “but you don’t seem like you do.”

Kit relaxed a little, “You run your reports part Leliana before sending them. You send nothing she does not approve of. If this turns out to be a trick, or if your reports compromise the Inquisition, I will eat you alive.”

Iron Bull grinned, “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, turning back towards his troops, “Krem, tell the men to finish their drinks on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Kitori stepped away to rejoin his party as the Chargers regrouped.

Chapter Text

By the time they returned to Haven, having dealt with the Blades of Hassarian, it was almost time to leave to meet Vivienne. Leliana and Josephine were adamant that he should meet with her, to at least see why she wanted to meet, explaining that she could be a powerful ally to have.

In the meantime, he spent time with Harrett, finalizing the design and fit of his new leather and cloth armor. 

There was a high collared undershirt in a grey tinted green. The cuirass was a heavy cloth shirt in green, trimmed with gold and pleated across his torso, with hardened leather pieces sewn between the layers. The sleeves ended just below his elbows, where leather bracers that covered his forearms and wrists were sewn into them, fastened and tightened by laces. A belt fitted with fastenings made of obsidian, with pouches for his herbs and potions that also had skirt-like trails in a reddish brown, with a similar silhouette to a standard battlemage’s coat, padded with leather for extra protection. Thick padded leather hung on the outside of his thighs, tied and secured by cloth ties. Thick and plain gray cloth made up his pants and covered his feet, with leather boots similar to the elven style over top for extra protection.

Once Kit had helped finish the armor, he helped Harrett to thread drakestone through the core of a wooden bō staff, so that it would be weighted all the way through, and not more or less so at either end.

When everything was fitted and finished, Kit heaved a relieved breath, giving his new staff a twirl as he tested the weight and the movement of his armor.

“Interesting get-up,” The Iron Bull commented from his spot where he and the Chargers were camped near the forge, “Doesn’t look very sturdy, can it take a hit?”

Kit grinned as he faced Bull, “The point is to not get hit, but in the event that I do, it should suffice.”

“If your plan is to tank hits with your barrier, you’re gonna need to work on it, as I recall, it’s pretty flimsy… no offense…”

Kit laughed a little, “None taken, I do not use barriers often.” He stamped his staff to indicate it, “The bō staff is a strong and versatile weapon in offense, defense, and support, it is all I need.” 

The Iron Bull grunted, looking dubiously at the staff, “I dunno, I’ve seen plenty of skilled fighters, using all kinds of weapons, but one good hit from an axe and your stick is in pieces.”

Kit smirked, “It is weaved with magic, it will not be easy to break it through non-magical means. Besides, I know better than to try to catch an axe strike with my staff,” He spun the staff idly, “If you have doubts, however, we could spar, and I could show you.”

“You’re a mage… you plan on being close enough to the action to use your staff like that?” Bull questioned.

Kit shrugged a bit, “Depends on the fight. Besides, it is always best to be prepared, because it will happen, whether I want it to or not.”

Iron Bull nodded, “Smart, but we’ll have to postpone that sparring match,” he gestured behind Kit with his chin, “Looks like you got other shit to do right now.”

Kit sighed and turned around, seeing Cassandra walking up, “Are you ready to go? We should leave soon to meet with Madame de Fer.”

“Alright… I suppose I am as ready as I can be.”

The estate itself was… grand. As he was the only one who had been invited, he was the only one allowed past the gates. Kit hated that. He kept a hand on his staff as he entered the main hall. 

“Master Fox of the Inquisition,” a butler called as he entered, making him jump.

He bristled at the title, but grimaced and said nothing, continuing towards the group of nobles by the stairs, eager to find Vivienne de Fer and be done with this. Their frozen ceramic masks unsettled him, inexpressive faces, unmoving mouths, hidden eyes. 

He listened as a pair chatted at him, seeming almost overly polite, commenting on the stories they’d heard about him. 

He’d known his title had gotten around, that the Herald of Andraste was something of a celebrity. But he hadn’t thought they’d actually attached his name to it. He wondered what other stories the people told about him. 

“What have you heard about me?” Kitori asked curiously. 

“Some say that when the Veil opened, Andraste herself delivered you from the Fade,” the woman said, fanning herself idly. 

Kitori grimaced and sighed, “I wish they would stop saying that…. It is an exaggeration at best.”

“Oh but only for the best effect!” She exclaimed, “The Inquisition is a ripe subject for wild tales.”

“The Inquisition?” Kit looked up, another nobleman was descending the stairs, “What a load of pig shit!” He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped up to Kit, “Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

Kit tilted his head, “I have not made any claims towards political power, nor do I plan to.” 

He started to turn towards the couple he had been talking to, but the man responded, talking about claims of power and holiness. Kit could envision him spitting, if it weren’t for the ridiculous mask. Kit raised a bored brow towards the man, which only seemed to anger him further. 

“We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is. If you were a man of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges!” He reached for the rapier on his back.

Kit’s eyes sharpened, his hand tightened on his staff, and then the man was frozen in place. Not by his magic…

He looked up the stairs. There was a woman in an elaborate outfit and headdress, hand outstretched, frost on the tips of her fingers. 

When she spoke, her voice was cold as ice as well, “My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house… to my guests. You know such rudeness is… intolerable .”

She moved down the stairs, circling the man. She reminded Kit of a predator stalking its prey. 

“Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon!” The man nervously stammered.

“You should. Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” She turned to Kitori, “My lord, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

He grimaced at the title, “My name is Kitori Fox. I have no title and I do not want one. As for him,” Kit nodded at the frozen man, “I do not really care. He is welcome to question my integrity. I believe in action more than words, and his are those of a coward clawing for attention and any scrap of power he can claim in an uncertain and unstable time.” 

“Quite right, my dear,” Vivienne agreed and turned on the man with a tsk, “Poor marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Ferelden dog lord. And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning… and you’re still here…” she flaunted, “Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think his sword would end the shame of your failure?”

Kit tilted his head as the marquis unfroze, coughing and catching his breath, “I do not carry a blade?” He pointed out, curious at her phrasing. “I am a mage.”

“A figure of speech, darling,” Vivienne replied smoothly, watching the Marquis stumble as feeling returned to his limbs, “Run along my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt.” She started walking and gestured for Kit to follow her. 

Once they were in a more secluded hallway, she turned to speak to him, halting them next to a balcony window. “Now then, my dear, I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

“An impressive title, but what does it mean? And why did you want to meet me?”

She raised a brow at him. He tilted his head in response. Silent. Judging. Thinking. Judging. He refused to elaborate. Let her judge. 

“My dear, for such a prominent individual, you are remarkably uninformed,” She stated cooly, “But I suppose for the moment, titles are unimportant. I invited you here because I wanted to meet you face to face. It is important to consider one’s connections carefully.” Vivienne folded her arms behind her back, turning to look out of the windows as she continued talking, “With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people.” She turned back to him, regarding him with a cool stare, “As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

Kit raised a brow and folded his arms across his chest, “Loyal mages? Loyal to who or what?”

“To the people of Thedas of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order.”

Kit studied her composure and body language for a moment. “I am not sure I like the implications of that. What do you get out of this, if you join us? Why offer? It is dangerous, and difficult.” He tilted his head to observe the gilded halls they were standing in, “Far from the comforts of this…. I do not see you amid the destitute and struggling. I do not see in you someone who has struggled and fought tooth and bloody nail.”

“What do I get out of this?” She parroted, “The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy, to decide my fate. I won’t wait quietly for destruction.”

Kit nodded once, satisfied. “I cannot promise that you and I will see eye to eye, we come from vastly different backgrounds. However, I am sure the Inquisition would be happy to have you among its ranks.”

Vivienne smiled, “Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

Kitori had almost forgotten how crowded Haven had gotten. All the refugees and scouts and half baked soldiers… surely Haven couldn’t sustain this for long. 

He found Varric by a campfire, narrating his Tale of the Champion to some enraptured refugees and a couple of scouts pretending not to be paying attention. He was in the middle of telling how the Champion of Kirkwall, ‘Hawke’, had dueled the Qunari Arishok and then fought off the rest of the Qunari forces when he won. Kit sat and listened for a while, the crowd so enraptured by the storytelling dwarf that they hardly noticed him. Just the way it should be. 

A few of the audience bombarded Varric with questions about how Hawke could’ve possibly beaten both the Arishok and his honor guard by himself . Varric simply assured them that it was true, and while Hawke hadn’t been unscathed, he had been victorious. 

Eventually the crowd dispersed, and Kitori was one of the only ones left around the fire with Varric.

“Hawke was a mage?” Kit asked curiously, pulling his cloak tight around his shoulders as he hid from the ever prying stares of the refugees.

“Yep,” Varric answered, “One of those mage friends I mentioned. He’s a force mage, good with elements, and, well, force .”

Kit nodded thoughtfully, “Do.. any of your mage friends change shape?”

“Mm… not that I’ve seen. Why?” 

“Solas said that it is something of a mark of magical prowess… but I have been able to shape for as long as I can remember.”

“Heh, Lucky, there’s a lot of weird things about you, shape changing isn’t the biggest one.”

Kit tilted his head, “What is?”

Varric made a face, “Uhhh… I dunno. There’s a few to pick from, the glowy mark on your hand, getting dumped out of the Fade…”

Kit hummed thoughtfully, “Those are not the only examples you are thinking of. You just do not want to be rude.”

“Hey now, I’m perfectly willing to be blunt, I mean, I call Solas Chuckles ,” Varric laughed.

“I will let you get away with it this time, storyteller,” Kit grinned, then stood and left.

Cassandra found him next.

“Hera- Kitori,” She corrected herself as she approached him, “I feel I owe you an apology. I may have been too eager to dismiss the mages and their cause. However, I also think you may be too quick to dismiss the Templars, as well. They could be useful allies.”

“As could the mages be, Seeker,” Kit let that hang in the air, fidgeting with his hands a moment before continuing, “However, I do not see why we cannot approach both . I may not be the best person to approach the Templars, as you may not be the best to approach the mages.”

“You… think we should try again to gather both sides?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“Because last time that was attempted, a hole was torn in the sky …”

“That was last time. This is now. It will not happen again, not while there is already a hole in the sky.”

“I… suppose..” Cassandra relented, “Who will you take with you to Redcliff then?”

“Iron Bull, Varric, and Solas. We still do not know where the Templars have gone, I leave that to you, Lelianna, and the others to find out. I will leave for the Hinterlands in the morning.”

“Not Vivienne?” Cassandra asked curiously.

“No. She may be affluent, and may very well be helpful in this endeavor, but I do not trust her yet. She wears a mask, even when she is not actually wearing a mask.”

Cassandra raised a brow at him, “But you trust The Iron Bull, the Qunari spy .”

“He did not hide who he is at his core. I was able to read him, and he did not try to deny it when I called him on it.”

With the roads cleared and the mages and templars no longer actively warring, travel to the Hinterlands only took a few hours by horseback. Then it was only a matter of meeting Scout Harding at the nearest camp, and seeing if she had information on Warden Blackwall.

She did, as it turned out. He was staying at a cabin on a lake, up the path from the camp by the waterfall. She had gotten information from one of the farmers taking refuge in the village. Apparently Blackwall had helped them with some bandits, and a few of the younger, more fit farmers had volunteered to go with him and take care of the rest of the bandits and reclaim what they’d stolen.

Warden Blackwall was stout, burly, and bearded. His armor gleamed, well polished and maintained, and his shield was a scuffed and dented wooden piece, at odds with the rest of his presentation, yet, somehow, completely natural. Kitori watched for a moment as Blackwall coached the young men through shield drills, teaching them how to defend themselves against the bandits. 

“Blackwall?” Kitori asked as he walked towards the man.

Blackwall turned an assessing eye on Kit and his group, eyed the staff in his hand warily, then looked him in the eye, “You’re not… How’d you know my name? Who sent-” He gave a surprised shout as he seemed to move on reflex, hefting his shield into position to stop an arrow.

Kit scowled at the barbed arrowhead sticking through Blackwall’s shield, “Rather bold of them.”

Blackwall scowled as well, turning towards their attackers, “That’s it. Help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first!” He threw over his shoulder before taking charge of his little group of farmhands, “Conscripts! Here they come!”

“Gladly,” Kitori spun his staff in one hand, smashing the length of it into the face of one bandit who had tried to sneak up on him before turning to the fight proper.

Blackwall sighed once it was over, “Sorry bastards…” he muttered, kneeling over one of the corpses. He stood and turned to address his men, “Good work conscripts, even if this shouldn’t have happened. They could’ve—well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves.”

The farmers searched the bodies for their belongings, then set off without a word, and Blackwall turned back to Kitori, “You’re no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I am Kitori Fox. I know your name because I work with the Inquisition. I was asked to investigate whether the disappearance of Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine. Or to enlist the help of whatever Wardens may be willing and able.”

“Maker’s balls,” Blackwall cursed, “the Wardens and the Divine? That can’t—no, you’re asking, so you don’t really know.” He sighed, “First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done.  Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I’ll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.”

“Nor is mine. I was not accusing the Wardens, yet,” Kit assured, “I just wanted information. Do you know where the other Wardens are?”

“I haven’t seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there’s no Blight coming. Treaties give the Wardens to take what we need.  Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I ‘conscripted’ their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are,” Blackwall explained as he turned to work on cleaning up the battlefield. 

Kit hummed thoughtfully, “I see. Teach a man to fish, instead of giving him the fish.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you know where the other Wardens might have disappeared to?”

“Maybe they returned to our stronghold at  Weisshaupt? That's in the Anderfels, a long way north. I don’t really know. Can’t imagine why they’d all disappear at once, let alone where they disappeared to,” Blackwall theorized, grunting as he moved one of the bodies.

“Hm..” Kit moved to help him, and didn’t speak again until the job was done. “It has been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this has not helped at all…” He started walking away, back towards the rest of the group waiting for him a few paces away.

“Inquisition…” Kit turned as Blackwall spoke, “Agent, did you say? Hold a moment. The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

Kitori nodded, “We are in no position to turn away an offer of help. I am sure yours could be invaluable.”

“Good to hear.  We both need to know what’s going on, and perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition.”

“Go to our camp, just down the way,” Kitori pointed down towards the camp Harding was at, “Tell Scout Harding what happened here, who you are, and that you are joining up. She will put you on the path to Haven. Our Spymaster may have more questions for you regarding the Wardens.” He turned to his group, Bull, Varric, and Solas, watching him curiously, “I have other business here in the Hinterlands in the meantime…”

Chapter Text

There was a gate along the road to Redcliffe. Likely a deterrent against bandits, or an early warning against invasion. Whichever it served first. Currently, however, there was a large rift in front of it, a soldier running up the road towards them to shelter in the hut, shouting warnings as she ran that the demons were about to come through again.

Kit grimaced as a crack split the air and the mark on his hand pulsed and crackled with energy in response to the rift opening. He unslung his staff and spun it idly in his right hand as he walked towards the rift, looking over his shoulder to make sure his companions were readying their own weapons as well. Looking back towards the rift once satisfied, Kit narrowed his eyes at the drifts of energy in certain areas. A breeze blew past, and the grass in one of the spots seemed to be moving in slow motion, while the dust from the one in the middle of the path sped along as if caught in a gale, but moved normally once outside of the well of energy. 

And then the demons came clawing out of the rift. Terrors and wisps, a couple shades. Bull charged past, roaring as he heaved his axe around to engage with one of the terrors and a shade. A gentle glow enveloped him as Solas raised a barrier. Kit reached deep into the winter’s chill and sent focused blasts of pure cold at the joints of the demons, slowing them, allowing Bull to evade with ease despite the easy target he made with his size. Varric had already dispatched two of the wisps, working on a third amid harassing the second shade and evading the other terror that Solas was trying to gain the attention of.

Kit turned and changed tactics, switching elements with a breath as he spun his staff and let fire race down the length of it to release a gout of blazing fire at the terror. He flung a few more blasts at it and turned back, switching again, feeling the storm call this time, he planted his staff and let it come, chaining between the terror Bull was fighting, the shade harassing the Qunari warrior, the remaining wisp before the lightning ran out of targets close enough to target unless he wanted to use himself as a conduit, which he very much did not.

Varric leapt back from the terror encroaching on him, and his foot slid into the well in the path. He became a blur of motion, moving impossibly fast as he reloaded his crossbow and shot, time and time again until the last terror was melting back into the rift. Kit took the opportunity to snap the rift closed before more could come through.

He looked back at Varric once it was closed, the dwarf appearing to be regaining his bearings, “What… was that?” he wondered aloud.

So no one was expecting them, least of all Fiona, who had invited them in the first place. Kitori’s mind raced for an explanation. Trickery, shapeshifting maybe, but- no, changing your face was unheard of. There was an inkling in the back of his mind, a familiarity at the thought of a face-changer, but it was gone before he could consider it. A disguise possibly, but- no, Kitori was observant, he would have noticed, surely. He was good at reading people and there had been no ill-intent in the invitation. Fiona wasn’t lying either, Kitori or Bull would know , and he trusted Bull to tell him if he caught something like that. Liars alike and all that. 

It made no sense. Fiona was confused as well, admitted to feeling strange about it, about things not lining up. 

And then came the news that turned the fire in his heart to ice. The silhouette in the door. The clanking of boots, the metal noise of armored claws and gauntlets and jewelry. 

Ringing in my ears. 

Voices? Talking?

Noise. Noise. Noise. 

Kitori’s jaw clenched hard enough he could hear his teeth creaking under the pressure as he stared at this Magister in front of him. The Magister, Alexius, was speaking to him. Talking about negotiations for the mages’ assistance with the Breach. 

He felt the fire return to his veins and scowled. “I do not negotiate with slavers.” He growled. 

His companions turned to him, giving him various looks of concern before Varric spoke up.

“Uh… Lucky? You’re kinda… smoking.” He warned, “Ah- and sparking! Can we put the fire away please in this nice wooden building?”

The Magister only raised a brow at Kitori, “Are you threatening me?”

“That really depends on you . Let the mages go .”

Movement. Sudden. Threat. 

Kit’s eyes locked onto the stumbling young Tevinter man. Injured? Sick?  Bull intercepted him, catching and steadying him. Kit’s fire dimmed in the confusion as Bull caught his eye in a meaningful way as the magister fussed over his son and left with him in a hurry, promising to continue this ‘discussion’ later. 

Once they were gone, Bull revealed a note pressed into his palm. Come to the Chantry. You are in danger. 

It was obviously a trap, but Kitori marched along the path regardless. He resolutely ignored the looks his companions were giving him. Their hushed concerns about his control slipping. Varric’s worry over seeing him so angry. 

There was a rift in the chantry, bending time around itself the same as the one at the gate. A young Tevinter man was fighting the demons with flashes of fire, and asked their help closing the rift. 

Here in the dimly lit Chantry, Kitori could tell that the wells of energy had a subtle glow about them. The ones that slowed were green, and the fast ones glowed a gentle gold. He let Winter flood his lungs and carry him into the center of a golden well.

Faster than ever, he flung bouts of fire, ice, and lightning, and the demons were destroyed before long.

Kitori did not lower his staff once the rift was closed, leveling it in a threat at the Tevinter man standing across from him. 

The man had his back to him, studying the space where the rift was, “Fascinating. How does that-” he turned around to face him finally, “Ah- Might suspicious are you? But I’m getting ahead of myself,” He gave a flourished greeting bow, “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

Kit lifted his lip in a sneer at the man. 

Bull huffed, “Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst.”

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian hummed, “Like company, I suppose. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable — as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Move an inch towards me or my companions and I will leave nothing but ash where you stand,” Kitori threatened. 

Dorian’s brows shot up, “My how rude. Here I am offering my assistance, and you’re threatening me?”

Varric cleared his throat, stepping up beside him, “Maybe we should hear him out, Lucky. We don’t really know what’s going on around here, he might be useful.”

“You should listen to the dwarf,” Dorian suggested, “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming all the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself .”

Kit lowered his staff by a centimeter as Solas spoke up, “That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous.”

“So, you’re saying he arranged it to arrive here just after the Divine died?” Varric questioned.

“You catch on quick,” Dorian nodded, “The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

“Why should I believe any of this, believe you ?” Kit demanded, lifting his staff again, “You Tevinter always have some agenda. Always some play to come out on top.”

“I know what I’m talking about,” Dorian stated defensively, “I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory . Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them,” Kit turned sharply at the new voice. Mistake. Danger. Alert. It was the man from before, who had stumbled and been caught by Bull. Felix the Magister had called him, his son.

“Took you long enough,” Dorian said by way of greeting, “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day,” He replied before turning towards Kitori, “My father’s joined a cult . Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori .’ And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you .”

“Why?” Kit took a defensive step back. Two of them. Powerful mages. One sick. Maybe win? “What does he want with me? ”

Iron Bull was a strong presence at his back. Blocking- no- defending. He lowered his staff slightly, still ready, but less tense.

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why,” Felix answered, “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“You can close the rifts. Maybe there’s a connection? Or they see you as a threat?” Dorian theorized.

Felix responded, looking at Dorian, taking the weight of his attention off of Kitori, “If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought.”

“I am not afraid of him. Let him try to take me,” Kit sneered.

Dorian raised a brow at him. Doubt. Let him. Prove it. “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe, Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.” He started moving towards the exit, turning to address Felix as he walked, “And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.” And with that, he was gone.

“Gotta admit,” Bull spoke as they exited the chantry building, “I wasn’t expecting to find so many Vints here.”

Solas hummed thoughtfully, “I suggest you keep your eyes open, our true enemy is not yet clear.”

Kitori snorted, “They are like cockroaches . Persistent pests. ”

“We should get back to Haven and make an actual plan,” Varric suggested, “Maybe the Seeker’s got something on her end?”

Kitori had barely touched the ground, dismounting from his horse, before he shook off the weight of being human, and traded his skin for fur. He bounded away into the forest outside of Haven, catching his companion’s shouts after him on the wind. He ignored them and kept running.

The form of a white fox came as naturally as his breath, and he spent several hours in the shape; out in the forest, ducking around trees and stumps and leaping over fallen logs, scurrying under the brush, between the legs of the druffalo in the clearing. 

Slowly, the weight on his back lessened, and he made his way back to the little village, still in his shape. He prowled around the soldier’s tents and training field for a moment, watched Cassandra tear apart a few training dummies before approaching her.

She looked at him and he sat and tilted his head at her as if to ask ‘what is wrong?’

She huffed a sigh and turned back to her next target. “Is it that obvious?” She wondered, clearly looking at him in her peripherals as she struck her target again. 

He let himself nod, not feeling like trading in the fur just yet. 

Cassandra sheathed her sword and stepped away from the dummies and towards Kitori, looking over the soldiers training a few yards away, “Did I do the right thing?” She wondered, “What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I revered my whole life. One day, they might write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right.”

Kitori shook his fur out and brushed against her leg before sitting down next to her. What do you believe? He wanted to ask.

“There is more going on here than we can see,” Cassandra sighed, “I believe now, that you are innocent. No one else seems to care to do anything! They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot.” Kitori had to agree with the sentiment, “But I can only guess whether this is the Maker’s will…”

Kit finally let the fur fall and sat in the snow at Cassandra’s feet, legs crossed under himself, “And what do you plan to do about it now? What happens next?”

Cassandra looked down at him, then back up at the training soldiers, “Now we deal with the Chantry’s panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high.”

“Mm… Change is rarely neat and clean. There is always a price. Very rarely do we know what the price of change will be, until it is too late. The owl snatches the mouse. Its pups starve. A scavenger finds them and feasts. There is always cost, and we do not always see the cost. The life of the mouse, for the lives of the owlets.” He turned towards Cassandra, “I believe this change was necessary. Imagine if you had not declared the Inquisition. Where would we be then? Stumbling in the dark, still? Trying to solve a problem with so few pieces of the puzzle..” Kit shook his head, “No, it would not have been sustainable, and the world would have fallen to chaos and death.” He tilted his head, “I find it hard to believe that you had not considered that?”

Cassandra gave a wry laugh, “My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.’ I see what must be done and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail…. But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

“It was not like you had no reason to suspect me. I likely would have done the same.”

“I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone…” Cassandra sighed and looked at him after a moment, “You’ve said you don’t believe you’re chosen. Does that mean… you also don’t believe in the Maker?”

“I do not. I put my faith in the elven gods, was raised into that culture, not yours.” Kitori shrugged. 

“And there’s no room among your gods for one more?” She questioned, and continued before Kitori had a chance to respond, “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.”

“As far as I have seen, there is no room in the Chantry for elven gods. Why should they make room for yours?”

She looked at him in stunned silence for a moment, “I… had not considered it that way…. I apologize.”

“You were not raised in a way to consider it.” Kitori shrugged, “It is not your fault.”

“Would you… teach me about the elven gods?” 

Kit tilted his head curiously, “Why? You are genuinely curious?”

“I am.” Cassandra nodded, “It is a culture I do not know much about, I would like to know more.”

“Hm..” Kitori considered her for a moment, “We call them The Creators. There are nine, five gods, and four goddesses. The head of the pantheon is Elgar’nan, the god of vengeance and fatherhood, and his wife, Mythal the Protector, the goddess of justice and motherhood. Their children make up the majority of  rest of the pantheon-”

Talking about his culture had felt… good in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Left his steps feeling lighter than they had been in years as he walked towards the gate. The weight of Iron Bull’s one-eyed stare, though, was heavy, so he diverted his path to walk up to the mercenary. 

He looked up at Bull, and Bull looked down at him. 

After a moment, Kit tilted his head, “You have not taken your eye off of me since we left the tavern in Redcliffe.”

“Yeah, boss-”

“Do not call me that,” Kit interrupted, bristling, “Kitori, Kit, or Fox, no titles.”

Bull held his hands up in mock surrender, “Woah- take it easy, b- Fox. Guess I’ll just have to figure out a different nickname then.”

“Hm.” Kit huffed, “Why have you been staring at me? Are you that concerned about my control slipping?”

“Honestly?” Bull crossed his arms, “Yeah.”

“There is no reason to be,” Kit assured, “I was entirely in control.”

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing…”

Kit crossed his arms in a mirror of Bull’s posture, “What point are you trying to make?”

“ You’re the one that approached me. ” Bull pointed out, “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Your stare has more weight than you would think. Even when you think I do not notice. It is like being stalked by a bear, and it is difficult to miss.”

“Not sure whether to be impressed that you picked up on it, or concerned that I’m losing my subtlety,” Bull huffed.

Kitori shrugged, “I am not sure anyone else would have noticed.”

Bull hummed thoughtfully. 

He knows he knows he knows.

Bull huffed again at whatever he found in Kit’s expression, “Look, Fox, I know who I’m looking at. I know where you came from, and I know, for whatever reason, you don’t want it getting out,” Kit took a defensive step back, narrowing his eyes at Iron Bull, who held up his hands in a show of peace, “I don’t plan on telling anyone; it’s none of my business. Won’t be in my reports either unless it becomes relevant. But whatever you got going on, you need to figure out a way to deal with it that doesn’t involve setting yourself on fire.” Bull leaned back casually, crossing his arms, “But, like I said, it's none of my business. As long as you keep that fire to yourself.”

“Why tell me that you know? You could have used it as leverage. Still could. How did you know?”

Bull laughed, “Fox, I’ve been fighting the Vints a long time. I know what to look for. As for why …” he shrugged, “Dunno. You’ve been… tense , to put it mildly. Thought you might like to know you had someone in your corner who knows and won’t use it against you.”

“You are a liar, how do I know you will not use it?”

“You don’t. But I haven’t yet , and back in Redcliffe? In that tavern, or the Chantry? Those would’ve been pretty good times to do it.” Bull explained, “Besides, there’s no reason to. Not to mention all the bad that would happen if I did. Breach doesn’t get sealed without you.” They let the silence hang for a moment, before Bull spoke up again, “I am in your corner, Fox, no one gets near you without your say so. Least of all a Vint.”

Kit studied him for a moment. 

Honest. Genuine. Safe.

He nodded once, and moved to walk away, pausing a moment to look over his shoulder at the Qunari mercenary. 

“Thank you…”

Bull nodded back in acknowledgement, and Kitori entered Haven proper.