Chapter 2
She was alive and funny.
Why did she have to be funny?
How in the void was she still alive?
Solas hadn't expected the ancient Magister to survive, much less the elf before him. The ice she'd fired at the wraith had him reeling. Watching her turn in the same moment to take her staff to the creature behind her made him truly wonder who he'd cared for the past few days.
While their trek was fraught with more projectile demons, he couldn't stop analyzing her. She was almost a foot shorter than he, still tall for most elves today. Her whole stature whispered of a fuller living than the Dalish he'd encountered, her hips gently swaying as she walked. There was a lightness to her steps, as if flirting with his companions had brought a sense of calm and ease.
He didn't notice her glancing back at him, lost in his prolonged appraisal.
“Yes?” her tone carried an annoyance he wasn't prepared for.
His eyes flashed to hers, one of the many questions he'd cataloged saving him from complete embarrassment. “You are Dalish,” Her vallaslin gave that much away. “But clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?”
“I. . .” Her jaw set. “What do you know of the Dalish?”
“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”
She stopped walking, turning to him. “What do you mean by 'crossed paths?'” Her piercing, green gaze a challenge.
A feeling he hadn't dealt with in a few centuries, possibly a millennia, ran down his spine in response. “I mean,” he continued past her, “That I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.”
Cassandra's prisoner let out a sharp laugh, “Then you know us well enough.”
Solas' correction was interrupted by Varric, chiding, “Can’t you elves just play nice for once?”
The woman carrying his magic rounded on the dwarf. “What about you? I take it you're not from Orzammar?”
“Kirkwall.”
“Carta?”
“Are you saying I look shifty?”
“Most of us do,” she remarked, subtly scrutinizing the clothes upon Solas' frame.
He fought a bristling within him. It wasn't his fault fashions had changed so much over the centuries. That, and well, this is what let him go unseen by most.
Why do you care? The question rattled through his mind.
"Varric did not destroy the Conclave.” Cassandra intoned.
“That you know of. We shifty-smuggler types can be tricky.” Varric sent a wink the female elf's way, her smile broadened.
She stumbled as the Anchor within her hand sparked, sending pain radiating throughout her body. She tucked into her stomach, doing her best to muffle her cry of pain. The Breach roared, almost in delight, at her suffering.
“Shit, are you alright?” Varric's face grew concerned.
Cassandra put her arm through the prisoner's, helping her to move forward as Solas sidled next to her, channeling into her hand.
“My magic cannot stop the mark from growing further.” He looked at the seeker, “We must hurry, before the mark consumes her.”
She regained her balance and the group surged forward, moving with renewed vigor. He kept a close eye on the Breach, hoping to notice when it began again to expand. Maybe he could send a small dose of healing magic into her to counteract the pain?
Why do you care? The question repeated in his mind.
Because I need to close the Breach.
Are you sure about that? It continued, mocking. Is there not something . . . More.
She is carrying my Anchor, my magic. He argued with himself, fighting the urge to look her way again. To analyze the rest of her. . .
“So…” the hesitance from the normally forward dwarf pulled Solas from his thoughts. “Are you innocent?”
“I don’t remember what happened.” She reiterates.
A click of the tongue from Varric. “That’ll get you every time. Should've spun a story.”
You could hear Cassandra's eyes roll. “That’s what you would have done.”
“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.”
They began their way up another set of stairs placed within the mountainside. Varric looked back to the prisoner, “What's your name anyway? I don't think we've actually asked.”
“No, you have not, Varric Tethras.” She gave a slight curtsy, “My name is Emma'lah Lavellan. Emma for short.”
“Very pretty. Very elfy. Does it stand for anything?”
“'Mine,'” Solas began, his voice louder, firmer than intended. All three turned to look at him for his sudden declaration. He let out a cough, “Shortened, it can mean 'mine.' Fully, it roughly translates to 'my voice.'”
“Indeed,” Emma grinned.
Cassandra shrugged and continued her climb, her prisoner close behind. Varric stayed paused, grinning at the flustered mage. Solas averted his eyes from the knowing dwarf's. With a small shake of his head, the bard turned to follow the women.
Dangerous. A voice barely louder than the falling snow whispered in the elf's mind.
* * *
The wind whipped around them as they climbed.
Muttering with sharp curses echoed their way to his ears. Varric turned to him, then they both looked a short way down the stairs to their new ally. She was fighting with her worn, splintered staff that had tangled in her long hair.
Badly.
“A moment Seeker!” Varric called up the steps as Solas trotted down to Emma.
“Need some help?” Solas was fighting a grin.
She stared angrily at his scalp. “Not from you, you bald headed bastard,” she huffed.
Cassandra appeared at his side. “What's going on? Is everything. . . Oh.”
“Help,” Emma squeaked. A dagger was already in the Seeker's hand.
Cassandra made quick work of Emma's long, blond hair. She'd asked Solas to hold the staff steady, away from the now pouting elf's head.
“I feel like a child.” She muttered, eliciting a small laugh from the seeker.
No matter how she felt, she was far from childlike. Even as her hair went from nearly grazing her ample ass, to just below her full brea—shoulders, she was very much a woman.
Cassandra went to sheathe her dagger as Varric pointed out just how choppy the cut was. Emma was aghast at him, about to dismiss him completely when the Seeker cursed he was right. She turned Emma, setting them on level ground before fixing her work. A chin-length bob the final outcome.
The companions resumed their summit. Cassandra's face pulled into a mix of emotions. “I hope Leliana made it through all this,” her voice coated in worry.
“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric does his best to soothe her fears in-spite of her opposition to his accompanying them.
“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp.” Solas gestured ahead as they quickly crest the top. “We’re almost there.”
“I hear shouting.” Emma looked at Cassandra, and they took off, running past a familiar scene of fiery wagons and scattered corpses.
“Another rift!” Cassandra shouted, Emma already casting lightening into the fray.
“We must seal it, quickly!” Solas ordered, his magic joining newly shorn mage's.
“They keep coming! Help us!” a soldier cried as Cassandra protected him from a blow.
The elves ended up back-to-back, counter casting barriers, turning in time to cover the other fighters against the onslaught. The last demon expired and Solas shouted for her to use the mark, not realizing he was now in her path.
Following his command, she raised her hand as she pivoted. Her turn ended with them chest to chest, her arm stretched past his shoulder. Her eyes fought to stay on the rift above them and not drift to his form, standing tall, so close hers. His eyes, on the other hand, took in her now short hair sticking to the sweat laced brow, the soft angle of her gently upturned nose, the curve of her lips as she panted to catch her breath.
The crack of the sky closing yanked him from his hypnosis. He straightened from the lean he hadn't realized he was in. Cassandra shouted for the guards to open the gates, rift now closed.
“Right away, Lady Cassandra!” the soldier fought off his fear by the end of her name.
“We are clear for the moment.” Solas said, taking a much needed step back. “Well done,” He nodded to Emma, her eyes still not meeting his, cheeks flushed.
Varric walks by, patting her back and encouraging her to walk with him. “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.”
Solas took a deep, deep breath in. It was his magic coursing through her that made him feel this way. That's it.
He found himself fighting to not focus on the “him within her” part.
* * *
They could hear the argument before they saw it.
The group stepped past soldiers and clerics. The air was tense, many glancing to the shouting duo: a Chancellor of the Chantry and the Left Hand of the Divine.
"We must prepare the soldiers!" Leliana insisted
Roderick's permanent sneer said more than his words. "We will do no such thing."
"The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!"
"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility."
"I have caused trouble?" Leliana shifted her stance, astounded at the boldness.
"You, Cassandra, the Most Holy—haven’t you all done enough already?"
"You’re not in command here!"
Roderick's hands slammed on the table, "Enough! I will not have it!" His gaze fixes over Leliana's shoulder, pinned on their group. “Ah, here they come.”
Leliana whipped around. "You made it! Chancellor Roderick, this—"
"I know who she is.” Solas and Varric bristled as they watched the chancellor's eyes go to her hand, then her staff, then her ears. Emma paid no mind to the insults. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you” he nodded to Cassandra “to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."
Varric's hand casually moved to Bianca as Cassandra stalked to the man. "'Order me?' You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!"
"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"
"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know." The left hand articulated.
"Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!"
“Isn’t closing the giant hole in the sky, Veil?” she questioned, glancing quickly to Solas who nodded, “the more pressing issue? Are none of you actually in charge here?”
Roderick was incensed. “You killed everyone who was in charge!”
“You don't know that.” She growled.
Roderick's face curled into a snarl and he turned, “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”"
"We can stop this before it’s too late." Cassandra said.
"How? You won’t survive long enough, even with all your soldiers."
"We must get to the temple. That is the quickest route." Cass pointed to the path before them.
"But not the safest.” Leliana said. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."
"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky." Cass reiterated.
Roderick vied for attention. "Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"
The Breach expanded, and so did the mark on the Emma's hand. She turned her head, cursing at the pain and breathing through her teeth. "
"How do you think we should proceed?" Cass asked.
Emma stared at the woman, breathing hard through the pain “Now you’re asking me what I think?”
"You have the mark." Solas said behind her.
"And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra glared over at the chancellor. “Since we cannot agree on our own…"
Emma sighed, shaking her hand to try and dull the pain faster. "Let's use the mountain path.” She stepped past the chantry male, Solas and Varric following.
Cassandra wasn't happy, but she followed. "Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone."
"On your head be the consequences, Seeker." Chancellor Roderick's voice was grave.
Emma leaned to Varric, “I know I’m not in the best position, but you think I could get away with punching him?”"
“I think you could convince the Seeker to do it for you.”
“As well as the left hand. Perhaps the three of you could take turns.” Solas mused. Varric barked a laugh as Cassandra caught up to them.