Chapter Text
"Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters."
It was a simple, perhaps even unconscious gesture so subtle that if he had blinked he would have missed it. The prisoner had shown no reaction to Varric's revelation to the possibility of the Mark killing her in her sleep, yet the moment Cassandra said the word 'apostate', she immediately tensed and angled slightly to put herself between him and the Seeker. He watched the muscles in her shoulders bunch and heard the creak of her leather glove as she tightened her grip on her sword.
She was going to attack the Seeker? On his behalf? It would not end well for his plans or for her.
Cassandra either had not noticed or felt confident enough in her abilities to not feel threatened by the prisoner. Still, to defuse the situation, Solas retorted, "Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra."
His sharp tone had the desired effect. The prisoner looked at him over her shoulder and he could almost see the rapid-fire mental assessments she was making. Satisfied with whatever conclusion she'd come to, she stepped back and relaxed.
"My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage," he continued, answering her earlier question. He turned his full attention to her, though his next words were aimed at the Seeker. "I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."
"And what will you do once this is over?" she asked, catching on to his meaning. Her eyes cut toward Cassandra, her mistrust plain.
A human that is concerned for apostates? She was not a mage, not with muscles so well developed or with how she had flung herself into the fight with the demons pouring out of the rift. And she'd seemed shocked that she'd managed to close it; she'd clearly never done magic before.
Now was not the time to be distracted with his musings. He would ponder this later. Instead, he answered, "One hopes those in power will remember who helped and who did not." From the corner of his eye, he could see the Seeker frown impatiently. Speaking of mistrust. "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."
Cassandra looked between him and the prisoner, then nodded, placated. "Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly."
~
Eve -- he was ashamed to admit only Varric had had the consideration to ask her name -- let out an impressively loud battle cry, drawing the Shade's attention away from him and giving him a second to collect himself. He needed to lock away his anger at still being so weak and stop the demons from feeding off of it. And they must do something to calm the scouts, else their fear would pull something even stronger through the rift.
The Shade suddenly flickered a bright, pearlescent white. It was only for a heartbeat, but yes, he had clearly seen it. Like a ripple across water, it radiated from its outstretched claw and across its whole body; a broken mirror image of what the spirit should be. If Eve had seen it, it did not distract her enough to halt her powerful swing that split the Shade in two, causing the physical form to disintegrate into incorporeal dust.
She met his eyes with a concerned look that sent an inexplicable rush of... something... through him.
There was no time to dwell on it. Over the confusion of voices as Cassandra called to her lieutenant, the rift wavered, crackled, and arced. Pools of energy formed along the ground, and he could sense the approach of the larger Terrors he'd feared would come.
"More are coming through!" Eve shouted before he could open his mouth to warn them. "Get back!"
Again, she put herself between him and danger. There was no trace of fear in her posture as she faced down the two Terrors that loomed over her, and, more surprising to him, she had no reaction to him dropping a barrier over her.
Who, or perhaps what, was this woman?
The Terrors stood no chance. Without her fear to feed on, they had no power to paralyze her as they would do to the others had they'd been closer. She charged into them like a mad druffalo, but he couldn't see anymore as Varric's stealth grenades clouded the fight in a thick smoke. It seemed like only seconds later, he could hear the wailing screams of the Terrors as they, too, disintegrated, followed by the pitched hum of the Mark.
As the smoke cleared, he watched her jerk her arm down and away, the rift gone. Only then did she stagger, looking down at her hand in confusion. He felt oddly proud that she didn't need him to instruct her this time.
"Sealed, as before," he assured her, coming closer to examine the empty space that had been torn. He couldn't sense anything at all now. She turned to him. "You are becoming quite proficient at this."
"Let's hope it works on the big one," Varric muttered, stepping away to see to the scouts along with Cassandra.
Eve only gave the dwarf a passing glance before turning her attention back to him. "Are you all right? With the smoke, I couldn't really see anything."
He blinked; she sounded so genuine. "I am unharmed. Are you injured?" He was surprised to discover he actually cared to know.
She shook her head. "Only a scratch." She held up her shield-arm, showing a shallow gash with only the slightest smear of blood in her bicep where her buckler could not fully protect it. "I've gotten worse from overexcited kittens."
"Allow me?" He reached for her, but stopped short of actually touching her until she gave him a nod.
He watched her face as he gently touched the undamaged skin above the cut, then lightly traced his finger down as if he were smoothing over a line in sand. Indeed, it was just a superficial wound -- there was no poison from the Terror's claws -- and he only needed the merest spark to close it. Still, the light of it reflected in her eyes as she watched him just as intently.
Eyes burning with the vivid green of the raw Fade.
The inexplicable rush from before returned.
"Thank our prisoner, lieutenant," Cassandra was saying, her strident voice cutting through the moment. "She insisted we come this way."
Eve's eyebrows arched up, but she murmured a soft "Thank you, Solas." before turning to the others.
"The prisoner?" He was beginning to dislike them calling Eve that. "Then you...?"
"It was worth saving you, if we could," Eve replied with a look at the Seeker that said it had been her intention all along in choosing the mountain path.
And he truly believed that she meant it.