Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soft red curls tickled the small spot between her nose and her lips. She had to fight the urge to laugh lest she woke the sleeping bundle in her arms. A small arm was flung across her chest, tiny fingers gripping her shoulder. A chest moved up and down rhythmically against her own. Moments like these made Makenna feel truly blessed. Life wasn’t perfect, but these small moments were. Moments that would fade away as the babe in her arms grew. A sweet sorrow as the child she loved would one day no longer fall asleep in her arms. Makenna wondered if her mother felt the same way when Makenna preferred her own bed over her mother’s embrace.

The bundle shifted and eyes as green as a grassy meadow stared up at her. Makenna couldn’t help but smile as her daughter reached up to touch her cheek. Her little Moira. It was a shame Makenna couldn’t freeze time to capture this moment forever. Moira adjusted herself, so her face was resting in the crook of Makenna’s neck. Little puffs of her breath tickled Makenna’s neck.

Makenna turned just enough to press her lips to Moira’s soft cheek. “It’s time for bed, love.”

“Just a little longer momma,” Moira grumbled.

Makenna nodded, “Very well. Just for a little while.”

This was going to end. It always would. Makenna didn’t know why. She could never remember. Tears stained her cheeks, dripping onto her child’s cold skin. Oh goddess, why was she cold? She had to look but she didn’t want to. If she looked then it was real. There was no more pretending. No. She wasn’t going to look. She was going to preserve the memory. This was her daughter. And this was how she was going to remember her.

Makenna woke to the silence of the early morning. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so. She would be astounded if she managed to have a full night’s rest. A small sigh escaped her lips. At least it wasn’t a nightmare that woke her this time, not truly. This time she refused to open her eyes. Since there was nothing to be done this early, so she burrowed herself deep into her blankets and relished the quiet. No one barging into her quarters. No one demanding her compliance, her silence, her advice, or her action. Times like this made her choices more bearable. Any other time of day and she was just too damn tired. Didn’t matter if the day was beginning or ending. The only place she felt alright, was in the place of quiet.

A warm arm wrapped around her waist and drew her close. A forehead pressed against the middle of her back and she could feel warm breath across her skin. Another small comfort. She relaxed into the embrace. He didn’t speak. He would wait until the pink sky peeked through the curtains before he shattered her peace. She rested her hand over his and breathed deep. It was their routine every morning. She would awake from the torture of her dreams, and he would be there to keep her grounded until she would have to face the torture of the court.

An hour or two passed before lips pressed gently to her cheek.

“No thank you,” she grumbled, pressing her face into the pillows.

He chuckled behind her and tossed the blankets off them both. The cool air assaulted her bare legs and she hissed. “Ass.”

She could almost hear his frown as his fingers pressed against the inflamed mark on her thigh. An elm tree branched out across the sensitive skin, red and radiating heat. The tattoo hurt of course, but she was used to the pain after all these years. It was the sign that her daughter had visited her in her dreams once again. He said nothing. There was no need to. She had long since accepted this pain.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment and he was up and moving, leaving her behind in a bed that was growing colder by the second. He moved to the door, shoulders tense as he prepared himself to defend against the barrage of possible advisors that would burst through her door whenever they felt like it. Makenna put her foot down and imposed a curfew. Anyone that bothered her from midnight to eight in the morning, barring any emergency, could very well find their head knocked from their shoulders.

He swung the door open and immediately relaxed at the woman that stood in the doorway, swinging a basket in her hand. Makenna let out the breath she had been holding in and sat up in her bed.

“Donnchad.” The woman acknowledged him before moving past him and making a beeline for the bed.

He closed the door and nodded in her direction, “Nessa.”

Nessa dropped the basket on the bed beside Makenna and sat down. She flipped her raven black hair over her shoulder, her fingers lingering on the jagged scar on the right side of her skull. It was something she was proud of. A reminder of her innate ability to survive and overcome. Nessa’s eyes roamed over Makenna’s form, searching for anything and everything.

“Rough night?” She dropped her gaze and peeled the cloth off the top of the basket.

Makenna hummed in response and stared down at the pastries that had been revealed. Nessa must have raided the kitchen before coming up to see her. Everything smelled freshly cooked. Donnchad snuck up on them and snagged a pastry filled with lavender crème before either of them could grab it.

“When isn’t it?” he spoke with a mouth full.

Makenna just rolled her eyes, “When did you get back?”

“Early this morning,” Nessa answered, her fingers hovering over the basket before she finally selected a lemon crème pastry.

“I take it you found something.” Makenna grabbed the only one left, a strawberry jam-filled one, her favorite.

Nessa hummed while she took a few bites of her food. Makenna knew it was a deliberate attempt to look nonchalant, but if it wasn’t important, Nessa wouldn’t have come first thing in the morning bearing gifts. Her stomach twisted while awaiting the news, wondering which disaster she would have to deal with today. Attempts on her life, plots, coups, soldiers at borders. None of them good. For once, she wished Nessa would bring her good news, but that wasn’t a requirement of her job.

“I found Kiernan.” Nessa licked wayward crème from her fingers.

Makenna and Donnchad both froze and focused on her. Her husband. She wished he was her ex-husband, but in the eyes of the court, they were, unfortunately, still married. Kiernan had been missing for years. Nobody had seen him since his last attempt on her life. Many others had been trying to locate him for her, but every time they came up empty-handed. A year passed before she finally called off searches to refocus her attentions elsewhere. She was sure when he was done licking his wounds, he would resurface, and so he had. He would be a problem she wouldn’t be able to ignore if he went unchecked. Maybe it was finally the time to put an end to him once and for all. Donnchad caught her gaze and she nodded. Everything else could wait.

“Where is he?” she asked.

~

Makenna stepped free from the tree line and close to a small wooden house. Donnchad was beside her, mirroring her steps. Nessa had stayed behind to take curb any advisors who might get nosy. This was something that Makenna had to handle herself. She would be cowardly to send someone else to end her husband’s life. Her hands were bloody anyway, what was a little more?

The house itself was isolated deep in the forest. At first glance, it would blend into the trees and no one would know the crumbling structure existed unless they got too close. An acceptable attempt at a glamor. To the untrained eye, no one would know about his sanctuary. It was also too close to the border of the Fae court. If he had escaped inside, he could have been lost to her until Titania granted her passage into the land.

She approached the house quietly, scanning the surroundings for any traps or bells that would alert him to her presence. Not that he would run at first. He always believed he could face her head on. He lost every time. There was nothing. Either he was overconfident or didn’t think he would be found. She and Donnchad stood in front of the wooden door. She pushed against the warm wood with her fingers, but it resisted. A small smile graced her lips. There it was. He had at least the sense to spell the door from opening to anyone but him. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against the door. Her eyes were shut in quiet concentration as she coaxed the small tendril of energy that was coiled in the door to open.

He had to know she would come for him again. This time would be the last, and he would not survive if she reached him. His spell was rigid, sunk deep in the wood, years of practice had made him good, but not good enough. Makenna released small tendrils of her own magic, pulling apart the layers of his spell until it unraveled slowly beneath her fingers. The wood groaned and shuddered as the ward dissipated.

Her ever-faithful warrior beside her, Donnchad stood still, waiting patiently for her to finish. He was always so patient and yet never failed to challenge her when she was wrong. It was why he was still by her side after all this time.

Makenna stood back as the door swung open, revealing a humble shack devoid of life. Donnchad slipped from her side and stepped in front of her first. There would be no point in arguing because she would lose. However, there was nothing to fear but cobwebs and the occasional spider in the section of the house. But she felt something rotten down below. Something that didn’t belong.

Makenna pointed down and Donnchad nodded.

She could feel the empty space below her feet. Now it was just a matter of finding a way down. They were quiet as they moved through the house, looking through the doors into a bedroom with only a mattress and a washroom that could stand a good cleaning. The only other door left was beside the kitchen. It had to be that one. Makenna was growing more disappointed at how easy Kiernan was making this.

Donnchad pushed open the door to reveal worn stone steps that disappeared into darkness. He walked down the stairs first, his hand not leaving the stone wall, fingers searching for a light source. She followed him down the stone steps, there was no need to step lightly. She had already prepared the proper sigils for soundless movement and placed them on both of them earlier today. The smell of must and death assaulted her nose and she wrinkled it in disgust.

“Kiernan has been busy,” she murmured.

Donnchad grunted in agreement and placed his arm in front of her as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked around the corner, trying to see into the blackness that permeated the area in front of them. It was impossible. The darkness was purposeful, a guise to hide what existed here from wayward eyes. Concealing his efforts and true self, was a specialty of Kiernan’s. Makenna reached in her pocket and took out the small quartz she usually carried for times like these.

“Grant me light,” she murmured to the crystal, breathing the energy into the crystal until it began to emit soft light.

The light wasn’t enough to reveal secrets, but enough to move by. Donnchad nodded appreciatively and lead her through the hallway. Brown blood stains had settled into the stone marking a path deeper into the house. They moved quietly down the hall, staying close to the wall, their feet padding against the stone. Water dripped through the cracks in the stones, pooling at random spots on the uneven floors. If Makenna was kind, she would have just sealed the doors and drowned Kiernan, but she was merciless when it came to him. She had to feel her dagger piercing his chest, see the light in his eyes dim, and feel his blood soaking into her hands. Only then would she feel the weight she had carried for years, lifted from her shoulders.

Finally, they reached another door, this one just as spelled as the last. Donnchad moved to the side to let her unravel this ward as well but remained close to enter before her. She pressed her hands against the door, the wood was still warm underneath her hands. The spell was fresh, yet unraveling it was just easy as the first door. The energy beyond the door was dark and angry when she pulled the last thread of the ward apart. He was angry that she always bested him no matter how much power he amassed. Power that didn’t belong to him. He knew, in the long run, he could never beat her.

The door swung open to reveal Kiernan standing in the middle of the room. His once vibrant green eyes were dark and furious. The room was filled with a sickly, green light that came from behind him, illuminating the bodies littered in corners and the blood, both fresh and old, that stained the floor and Kiernan’s hands.

“Makenna.” His voice seemed calm, but it broke midway through her name revealing his fear.

She nodded in kind and stepped in front of Donnchad. Normally he would have struck first, protecting her, but he knew this was hers. She drew her blade from the strap that was secured snugly to her thigh. An heirloom through many hands until it reached hers, the intricately carved hilt gave way to a blade so sharp it could cut through skin like butter. Once it had been pure, used only in ritual, but she had soaked it in blood, carrying the energy of the darkest rituals and killings she had performed. Now it would take the last life it needed. The last life before she buried the blade deep in the ground to let the earth purify it again.

“I won’t die today; I have finally bested you. I can go to a place you could never reach me.” He moved to the side and gestured to the source of light behind him.

“Shit.”  

Donnchad echoed her sentiments as they took in the sight of the grotesque tear through reality, large enough for a man to go through. For Kiernan to go through. How he had managed to do it on his own, she didn’t know. Even with blood sacrifices, it was not something he should have been able to do. He couldn’t have done it on his own, but what would’ve been able to help him do this?

The sheer wrongness of the rift prickled at her skin. Whatever lay beyond wasn’t meant for her home. Who knew what long-term consequences this would cause?

She couldn’t allow Kiernan to enter the rift.

“Your madness has finally taken you.” She leveled a glance at Kiernan and the glee that danced in his eyes.

“Be that as it may, my love, I have finally beat you,” he spat the term of endearment at her before he stepped back to the rift. The tear grew, wisps of green reached to him, dancing on his skin, coaxing him into the void that lay beyond the unseemly gap.

 “Goodbye, Makenna.” He grinned and he fell back towards the rift.

She and Donnchad both moved at the same time. With arms outstretched, she reached for Kiernan. Even a sleeve would be better than nothing. Anything to keep him from going through the tear. She wasn’t fast enough. The rift expanded, the energy reaching for him, ready to take him. The room crackled with the energy it expended, making the hairs on her arm stand up.

The rift swallowed him whole. Without him here, the tear shuddered as it destabilized and she felt the energy stretching, getting ready to collapse in on itself. Donnchad grabbed her to run back the way they came, but it was far too late for that. The rift expanded, a crystalline structure forming above it, the crystals changing shape and reforming with sharp sounds. Tendrils of energy lashed around her legs as she tried to run, it burned through her clothes, searing her skin as she tried to fight against it. Donnchad reached out to her and clasped her hand in his.

“Run,” she panted, knowing it was going to take her.

Her warrior leveled a steely glance at her before wrapping her in his arms to protect her as much as possible. He was always willing to die for her even against her wishes. Fear curled in her stomach, an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time, as she could feel them being pulled into the void.

“I’m not letting go,” he murmured as he tucked her face into his chest.

She nodded, for once thankful her trusted friend was a stubborn ass, as they were ripped from their reality. The pain was immense, her magic flared up trying to protect them, but it entangled unkindly with the void and her entire body burned. Bright and never-ending as if this pain would go on for eternity, without even the calm respite of death. Donnchad’s arms tightened around her, his muscles taut with the same pain. A loud roaring filled her ears and a muffled explosion sent shockwaves through their bodies. She was never sure about whether she would meet death, but it seemed inevitable at this point.

The surface they landed on was neither soft nor forgiving. Donnchad released her upon impact, taking the brunt of their landing, but Makenna was not unscathed. Blood welled from the cuts on her face and hands. Her shoulder screamed at her in protest and it hurt to breathe. Based on Donnchad’s own labored breathing beside her, he suffered similar injuries. Makenna struggled to sit up and find her balance again. Jagged rock stretched out for miles around them. The sky was the same eerie green that had met them in Kiernan’s hideout.

“Where are we?” Donnchad groaned.

“How am I supposed to know?” She tried to gain any bearing on her surroundings, but there was none.

The landscape all looked the same. There were no identifying markers. Nothing to tell them where they were. And it was quiet. No people, no animals, not even ambient noise.

“I thought you knew everything,” he grumbled.

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, “If you can’t say anything useful then hush.”

“Bossy.”

Makenna rolled her eyes and ignored him. Using her hands, she braced her weight against the rocks and stood up. Even her ankle throbbed as she moved. So far, she had scrapes, a twisted ankle, a possible broken rib, and goddess knew what else. This was not what she imagined when she thought of going after Kiernan. But to be fair, who would be prepared to be pulled through a rift into such emptiness.

Makenna turned back and reached for Donnchad. He protested lightly, but eventually allowed the help. They leaned on each other. Neither of them strong enough to go at it alone. They needed to find where they were and a way out. Especially if Kiernan was anywhere in the vicinity. Makenna had clearly underestimated the lengths he would go.

Nothing changed. It didn’t matter which direction they moved; the landscape stayed the same. No wind. No sounds. Everything was just stagnant. Makenna stopped near a boulder that looked like one they had just passed an hour ago. Donnchad sat down on the craggy surface.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she murmured.

Donnchad grunted in response. Makenna would have expected to see something, anything, by now. People, homes, trees, flowers, different rocks, something. A new color, anything other than the green hue that was starting to make her feel sick. She sat down beside Donnchad and rested her elbows on her knees. Her fingers covered her eyes to give her a break from the green. It was alarming to not see anything of home. Even the courts would be a welcome change from the nothingness that existed around them.

Makenna thought of green grass that tickled bare feet. Water that bubbled and gurgled as it rushed past. Wildflowers growing in clusters near the river’s edge. She could almost feel the breeze caress her skin.  

“Makenna.”

Donnchad’s hushed voice drew her from her small reverie and she opened her eyes. Startled was an understatement. The grass and flowers and river that she had imagined was in front of her. They were sitting on an outcropping of rock near a waterfall. The greenish hue of the sky still existed, but everything else was changed. She stood from the rock and limped towards the water. The water was cool and rushed past her fingers.

Impossible.

A large crack resounded over her head and she ducked out of instinct. Donnchad was beside her in a moment. He gripped her tightly, prepared to defend her despite his injuries. A rift opened up over their head. Not quite the same as before. This one seemed less erratic, not that she had anything to really compare it to besides Kiernan’s from before. Donnchad’s fingers gripped her jacket and he pulled her away.

“What the hell is it?” His voice was strained.

“Maybe it’s our way home. I don’t know.”

He didn’t relax his grip on her. A loud screeching resounded over the once quiet landscape making her slap her hands over her ears. Looking in the direction of the screeching she froze. A large being was heading their way. Make that several large beings. They appeared on the horizon, each taking different forms, but she felt them. Fear, rage, and despair hit her like a punch in the gut all at once. Distorted mouths and sharpened claws stretched across the space towards them.

“We have to go through it.” Makenna gripped Donnchad’s arm.

“You can’t be serious?”

“There isn’t much alternative!” She slung his arm over her shoulder and tugged him towards the rift.

He tried to dig in his heels, but he was too injured to resist for long. The screeches were closer. They would die here if they didn’t go through. Makenna knew that much. The rift made a horrible grinding noise and grew larger as if ripping through the world. A wound that would become infected. She felt sick the moment she stepped into the green light. The magic pulled and twisted at her own. It was wrong. So wrong.

The ground gave out beneath them and they were falling again. This time there was air, not just nothingness. Makenna could hear voices and the sounds of fighting. A welcome reprieve from the silence they had endured for hours. If only she weren’t still falling. She could no longer feel Donnchad’s familiar weight. Oh goddess, had she let him go? Did he come through? She couldn’t remember. She opened her eyes. He was there, his fingers just inches away from hers. They reached out to each other, but their fingers never met.

Makenna looked down and she wished she hadn’t. The ground grew closer and it did not look soft. She closed her eyes and tried to brace herself for impact. What was a few more broken bones? That line of thought did nothing to ebb the pain as she landed on the edge of the river. The audible crack of her arm breaking was simultaneous with her landing. A rock dug into the soft skin of her back, drawing more blood. Half of her landed in water, soaking through her pants and weighing her legs down.

Makenna opened her eyes to look around. A screech echoed close by. Makenna turned her head to see one of the figures from before looming over her. Her breathing became shallow and her blood turned to ice in her veins. It had been a long time since she properly felt afraid.

The creature screamed over her and raised dagger-like claws, ready to slice her from stem to stern. She had to stop it. A barrier, or a spell, something would have to do. Makenna raised her arms in front of her face to stop the impending attack, but a feeling of cold washed over her. She lowered her arms just enough to see the creature frozen mid-swipe. A large cracking noise in the distance and the creature broke apart in front of her. The magic popped and fizzled over her skin, not at all like hers, but exhilarating all the same. She wanted to sit up and see for herself, but her body cried in protest.

Her limbs felt sluggish and heavy. She was so tired. Too tired to move. Her injuries were catching up to her. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision and she fought. Just a little longer. She needed to know where she was. Was she home? Who were these people? Her skull pounded and her eyes threatened to close on her.

Footsteps moved closer to her. She could scarcely move her head to see. The darkness crept closer and closer, blurring her vision.

“If beautiful women keep falling out of rifts, I might be more tempted to fight demons.” The voice grew close.

“Varric,” a female voice hissed.

Someone knelt beside her. Calloused, but gentle fingers, touched her face and her skull for injuries. She looked up into eyes that reminded her of a thunderstorm that would break over the cliffs of her village. A tumultuous sea of blue stared back at her.

She felt so tired.

Makenna reached up, her movements slow and weak, to touch the sea that raged above her. His hand covered her own and coaxed it back down beside her. She was trying so hard to hold on. She couldn’t close her eyes or the sea might drown her. A small laugh escaped her lips. Her thoughts were so ridiculous. A gentle hand pushed her hair out of her face.

We won’t harm you. Sleep.  

Chapter Text

The briny smell of seawater roused Makenna from sleep. Grass tickled her cheek. Had she fallen asleep outside again? Mother would be upset with her. Especially, if the garden hadn’t been weeded properly. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal a light blue sky above her, darted with sparse white, fluffy clouds. How strange. Clear, sunny days were far and few between in the village. No, this wasn’t right.

Makenna sat up inside the small circle of flowers. As if her mother would have ever allowed a faery circle in the middle of the village. Not to mention it was quiet. Something was wrong. It was never this quiet. There was always someone out and about in the middle of the day. Windows would be opened to let in the air. The smells of potions and herbs, and the day’s dinner, would be wafting out. But not now. It was dead air. There was no breeze, no smells, no noise. This was not her village. Was it a dream?

The only dreams she had of her village anymore were of burning wood and ash that swirled around her feet like snow. That’s right. It couldn’t be her village. Her village had burned. Her people had screamed as the fires tore through their homes and their loved ones. The survivors had cursed her name. Her fault. It was all her fault. The grass underneath her hand withered and turned brown. The flowers wilted, the petals curling up with smoke as if they were being burned. The wood of the houses cracked and split around her, turning black. It was the only sound she had heard since she woke.

No. She was not home.

“You should be careful.”

Makenna turned in the direction of the voice and froze. It couldn’t be. Her legs threatened to give out from underneath her as she stared at the face of her mother. Her dead mother. Green eyes, the color of moss that grew on the trees, stared into her own. Horns grew from the side of her mother’s head, curling into intricate patterns, silver strands dangled from the ends. Wrong. It was a headdress, not actual horns. They just always seemed to be real when she was a child. As she blinked, the horns shifted until they were no longer attached, she could see the leather straps blending into her mother’s hair. She corrected her memory and it changed. What was going on? Was she trapped in her own mind? Had she finally lost it?

“I am sorry. I chose a form that was familiar to you, but I see that it is distressing.”

Makenna could do nothing but stare as her mother’s form slowly disappeared. A woman, at least Makenna thought it was a woman—it was hard to tell—stood in her place. The outline looked like a woman, but that is all they were. A faint blue outline. Yet somehow, they also looked solid.

“Who are you?” Makenna asked, her voice faint in disbelief. Was she dead?

They smiled at her gently, “I am Wisdom, and no, you are not dead.”

“Better question. What are you?”

“I am a spirit.”

A spirit? Makenna had never met a spirit like this which was rare considering who she was. The spirits she encountered were often malcontent or tortured. They begged for a purpose or release from their earthly ties. Never had a spirit stood before with an identity and a calm demeanor. More evidence that she was not where she was supposed to be.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You are in the Fade.”

“What is the Fade?”

Wisdom smiled, unperturbed by Makenna’s questions, “The dreaming world. Separated from reality by the veil.”

Finally. Something that made sense. A rule even she knew. She was asleep, and she was dreaming. Dreams made the world malleable.

“So, I’m dreaming? Is that why things change?”

“Yes, the Fade is shaped by many things,” Wisdom confirmed, “However, I do not often see someone other than a somniari shape the Fade so easily.”

Makenna was lost once again. “I have no idea what a somniari is.”

Wisdom nodded. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You are not from here after all.”

Makenna paused. A spirit named Wisdom had to know many things. Maybe they could tell her where she was and how she got here. Maybe even a way to get back. Wisdom smiled at her, not unkindly, as Makenna struggled to organize her thoughts. Questions filled her mouth, each fighting for dominance, however only one won out in the end.

“How did you know?”

“Your kind has been here before, not often, but I have seen your people walk through the Fade before.”

Does Wisdom mean the rifts have happened before? Makenna surely would have heard about them if they had. Or were there other ways to get…wherever the hell she was. None of this should be possible. It was hard to leave Underhill as it was, whether one was born there, or one was trapped when the veil was thin, but to casually state that her kind had walked through this dream world before was disconcerting. It reminded Makenna that despite her position, she still knew so little.

“That can’t be possible. If I’m not in Underhill, where am I?”

Wisdom seemed to pause, head tilted to the side as if listening for something. After a few moments, their shoulder’s relaxed and returned their attentions to Makenna. Fingers touched Makenna’s forehead gently, “That is a better question for when you wake up.”

Makenna’s eyes flew open. Her fingers tangled into a blanket that had been thrown over her in an attempt to ground herself. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much to assume that she was actually awake now.

Taking a moment, she looked at her surroundings from the cot she was laying on. There was a lot of beige, or was it more of a cream color? A sound drew her gaze to a small opening, and the fabric flapped in a breeze. A tent then. Different smells assaulted her senses. There was mint and a copper smell. Blood? Was it hers? Wincing at the soreness of her entire body, Makenna tried to sit up a little to look at herself. Other than a few bruises, there was nothing else. No open wounds that would cause immediate concern.

A table next to her was littered with empty bottles, a small knife, and a jar full of a nasty smelling poultice. Looking beyond that she could see several other cots-all empty. She was alone.

Makenna had barely managed to swing her legs over to one side, when she heard voices approach the tent. Without knowing where she was there was no way to discern friend or foe. With a shaking hand, she reached for the knife on the table, a horrible idea really, and laid back down. She pulled the blanket back up over her to cover the knife. With her eyes closed tight, she waited.

The voices sounded familiar. It sounded like those that had found her after falling out of the rift. She didn’t remember what they looked like, not that she had really looked. All she could manage to remember were eyes that reminded her of stormy clouds. How appropriate. In a place that was unfamiliar to her, it certainly felt like a storm had whisked her away. Now how was she going to get back?

“I don’t trust this,” a brusque voice came from outside.

“I fell through a rift too, Cassandra. We’ll know more when she wakes.”

She couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was a language she didn’t know. Strange.

Makenna stiffened at the sound of the tent flap opening and then closing. There were three of them at least. She wouldn’t know more unless she opened her eyes. Which would of course be a dead giveaway that she was awake. It would spoil all elements of surprise. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the knife when she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

“She healed remarkably well, even without magic,” The one masculine spoke as they peeled back one of her bandages, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Could she be a demon?” Cassandra asked.

“No. She doesn’t feel like demons or spirits. She is a person,” he reached for the blanket as he spoke.

It was now or never. Makenna’s eyes opened as he pulled the blanket away to study the rest of her wounds. Before he could react, and despite her body’s loud protests, she twisted around and gripped the front of his tunic with one hand while her other hand pressed the knife to his throat. He stared down at her with wide eyes. They were the same as before. The only ones she remembered. The rest of him was nice to look at as well. Strong cheekbones and jawline, freckles dotted his cheeks, and ears that ended in a sharp point. Fae then. One who was going to be in big trouble. A good looking one though.

It was too bad she was going to kill him if he didn’t give her answers.

The sharp sound of a sword being drawn rang in her ears, but she didn’t flinch. Neither did he for that matter.

“Even Titania should know better than to kidnap me.” The lilt of her native tongue filled the tense tent.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her mouth when she spoke. He shouldn’t be confused. Even the Fae knew the language of the witches and vice versa. Yet he was staring at her at a complete loss for words. Now she was the one confused. Not just because of the obvious language barrier, but because of how strange she felt. Normally she could feel magic in everything, constantly vibrating around Underhill’s inhabitants. It could be plucked forth and stretched and weaved. But she felt nothing. No magic. Just a…wrongness that permeated everything around them. Like the rift that Kiernan had summoned. Makenna wasn’t sure what this meant, but she was absolutely sure that she was not going to like it.

“Put down your weapon.” A woman with a scar that bisected her cheek had her sword ready to cut Makenna down.

This wouldn’t work. In order to negotiate, they needed to understand one another. With the collar of his tunic firmly in her fist, Makenna pulled the man close. Dry lips met hers. She coaxed his mouth open to steal what she needed. Despite his rigid posture, he did not fight her. Their Common filtered into her brain but it was not all. There were bits and pieces of other languages. Words but no meanings. Interesting. She filed that information away for later.

Makenna pulled back first. “Better?” she asked, the language would take time to feel right in her mouth.

“Better,” he confirmed.

“Put down the weapon!” the woman barked.

Makenna did not waver. “I will when you tell me where I am and why you’ve kidnapped me.”

“You’re in Haven,” the woman answered. “And we did not kidnap you.”

Makenna had never heard of a place called Haven. Granted her travel within Underhill had been limited, but still, the place evoked no sense of familiarity from her.

“You’re in Ferelden,” the man said. “You are in Thedas.”

Once again, nothing.

The small woman standing beside the brusque muscular woman finally spoke up, “We aren’t getting anywhere like this. Why don’t we all just put down our weapons and figure this out.”

Seconds passed like minutes before the woman lowered her sword. Makenna needed information more than bloodshed. The man briefly touched his neck when she lowered the knife, checking for any nicks. She still held it tightly in her hand just in case, but she wouldn’t attempt to stab anybody if it wasn’t necessary.

“Do you know where you are?” The small woman sat down on a cot across from Makenna’s as she spoke.

It was an attempt to seem nonthreatening. It also gave Makenna a chance to really look at her and it was like a punch in the gut. The mirror image of her sister was sitting in front of her. Same large green eyes, soft cheeks, and unruly red hair. While Makenna was all sharp edges, Grainne was soft and matronly. A healer and a mother. The only differences were the pointed ears and the ink etched into her forehead that reminded Makenna of a circlet and smaller, and a smaller design on the woman’s chin. Makenna felt her legs almost give out underneath her. Whether it was from fatigue or surprise she didn’t know. Gentle, yet calloused hands, pressed down on her shoulders to make her sit back down on the cot. Solas pulled the blanket around her shoulders. One wouldn’t think that she had just held a knife to his throat.

“No.”

The woman nodded slowly, “My name is Raina and you’re in Haven. The home of the Inquisition,” she paused to gauge Makenna’s reaction, but nothing stood out to Makenna, “You fell through a rift near Redcliffe farms. You were injured so we brought you back here.”

Makenna shook her head, “I remember falling, but I don’t know where I was. All I know is I was in Underhill and then I wasn’t”

An odd look crossed all of their faces. The woman in front of her bounced back first. “I’m Raina. This is Solas,” –she gestured to the man— “he’s our Fade expert and this is Cassandra. She’s a Seeker and helped found the Inquisition.” She shifted under Makenna’s gaze. “You were quite injured. I’m sure your confusion is due to that.”

“I’m not confused, Raina. It’s become clear that I’m not from here and I’m not supposed to be here,” Makenna said. “I don’t know how the two places are connected, but a tear opened in my home and brought me here.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I imagine it would have to be a matter of synchronicity. Matching energies generated on either side to form a pathway. The chances of that would be…”

“Nigh impossible,” Solas supplied.

“And yet, that’s the only explanation I can think of,” she mused.

“Unless you are lying,” Cassandra said.

“There is always that possibility,” Makenna admitted. “But it is a very strange lie when I could just fake amnesia instead.”

“We should place her in the dungeon until Leliana can speak with her,” Cassandra said, turning to Raina.

Raina crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

Cassandra heaved a sigh. “Herald, please—”

“I’m not throwing her into the dungeon just because she fell from a rift,” Raina argued. “One would think you would realize what a terrible idea that is by now.”

“You fell through too?” Makenna asked.

“Sort of,” Raina answered. “I’m from Thedas. I was pulled in somehow. I still don’t know what happened.”

“They didn’t believe you either.”

“Not at first.”

“The others will agree with me, Herald,” Cassandra interrupted. “What would you prefer? That she walk among us with no supervision?”

“We don’t have to go from one extreme to another, Cassandra. I’m saying we should give her a chance to show us who she is.”

Cassandra huffed. “Fine. But she will be confined in a place.” The Seeker didn’t wait for an answer before she exited the tent. Presumably to find a place to hold Makenna.

“I’m going to wager that she doesn’t like me much,” Makenna said to relieve some of the tension.

“Cassandra doesn’t trust easily and things have been…” Raina trailed off and stood up. “Well, it would be better to show you why she’s so concerned.”

Makenna left the knife behind in the tent and followed Raina outside. Solas followed them but remained quiet. He was one to keep an eye on. The quiet ones always were. Snow blanketed the ground and reflected bright light. It made Makenna blink. When her eyes adjusted, she noticed the sickly green hue on the snow and she sucked in a breath. A discordant humming—or perhaps it was singing—rang in her ears and she looked up towards the sound, to the hole punched into the sky. An angry wound. It pulsated with energy that made her skin crawl. It was wrong. She didn’t belong in a space where something such as that existed.

“We call it the breach,” Raina said. “That’s what I fell out of.”

“Long way to fall,” Makenna murmured, unable to laugh at her own attempt at humor. “What could have created something like that?”

“We are still trying to understand ourselves,” Solas said.

“I call it oh, shit,” a voice piped up. Crunching snow heralded the appearance of a man—short in stature—with ginger hair that was tied up and a crossbow attached to his back. “Ass deep in demons also works.”

“This is Varric,” Raina introduced him with the wave of her hand.

“Also known as the resident pain in the ass. At least, as far as Seeker’s concerned,” he said.

Raina gestured to Makenna. “This is…” she trailed off, realizing she never asked Makenna’s name.

Makenna bit back a grin as the tips of Raina’s ears grew pink. “Makenna,” she offered.

Varric looked her up and down. “Just Makenna?”

“Just Makenna.”

“Well, where are they taking you, Just Makenna?” he asked.

“To see the advisors,” Raina answered instead. “They’re going to want to talk to her.”

“Make sure you have your story straight,” Varric warned. “Make it a good one too. Everyone loves a good story.”

Makenna snorted. She doubted they would believe anything she had to say. And she was right.

For the first few minutes, they didn’t even speak to her. They argued amongst each other. A horrible thing to do in front of a stranger. Makenna could be an enemy. A spy. And she would be able to report back that the leadership was fractured. Too paralyzed by their own differences to make a choice. Until they turned to Raina. The young woman who stood in the middle and looked far too young to be making these decisions. Makenna doubted she was even in her thirties yet.

“Where are you from?” the blond man with a lip scar—Cullen—finally turned to her and asked her a question.

“Underhill.”

“No such place exists,” Josephine stressed, her quill scratching across paper.

“If we are to buy this story that you are from another world, then it does,” Leliana said. “If you would allow me to question, Herald, I can—”

“No,” Raina shot them down again.

Cullen’s hand gripped the pommel of his sword. “You cannot honestly believe—”

“I did not say that I believe she is from another world, Cullen. I am saying that her falling through a rift doesn’t make her untrustworthy and I will not treat her like a criminal when she has done nothing wrong,” Raina cut him off.

“Your naïve—”

“You threw me in a dungeon before knowing the truth and then needed me. Are you so willing to repeat past mistakes, Cullen?”

Cullen’s mouth snapped shut and he looked away. The back of his neck was flushed. Was he angry or embarrassed? Perhaps a bit of both.

“There is an empty cabin next to the apothecary. We could post a guard until we know more,” Josephine suggested. “Would that be amenable, Herald?”

Raina’s lips twisted into a frown, but she nodded. It was the best compromise she was going to get out of this. Makenna wasn’t naïve. She knew her presence—unexplainable and rather suspicious in these times—meant she would be watched. It would impede her progress on searching for Donnchad, Kiernan, and a way home. In that order. But she would manage. She was clever and resourceful and, above all else, good at manipulating others into trusting her. In Raina’s case, it would be incredibly easy.

“I will submit to any questioning you have as I would also like to find answers,” Makenna piped up. It wasn’t entirely a lie. When people had the upper hand, they could easily become careless. It just took knocking them off balance.

“Your cooperation would be preferable,” Leliana agreed, her blue eyes not holding an ounce of trust in them. She would be a difficult one to get past. “But the questions can wait until you rest. Perhaps things will become clearer then.”

Makenna stood up, but didn’t raise up to her full height, she kept her shoulders slouched forward. Posture was everything. If she held herself up as she usually did, Leliana would see right through her. “Perhaps they will.”

“I’ll escort her to the cabin,” Raina said.

The distrust between them as leaders reminded her of home. Makenna didn’t trust a damn one of her advisors. She only trusted the two closest to her. Despite the discord between herself and the council, she was still the leader and still made the final decision. There was no clear leader herr. Whatever the Inquisition was, it wouldn’t survive long.

Makenna followed Raina back out through the Chantry—she ignored the strange looks from the women in religious frocks—and into the village. The cold bit through her clothes. She hoped there would be fresh clothes and a meal involved in her incarceration. A decent bit of sleep wouldn’t hurt either.

“I’m sorry for them,” Raina said. “They aren’t very trusting.”

“One could hardly blame them,” Makenna responded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Raina sighed as they walked down the steps beside a bustling building. “They think I’m naïve and too trusting. I just don’t want to leap into making a mistake.”

“Mistakes are an inevitable part of life. You are going to make them no matter what your intentions are,” Makenna said. She stepped down harder than needed to hear the snow crunch under her boot.

“Do you think keeping you out of a dungeon is a mistake?”

Makenna chuckled. “I vastly prefer a cabin to a dungeon, but there is merit in their line of thinking. You seem to take the suggestion very personally.”

“After falling out of the rift at the Conclave—”

Makenna nodded along as if she knew what the Conclave was.

“I had the mark and I was sick. Dying. They threw me in a dungeon until I was useful to them.” Raina shook her head. “They’ve apologized, but sometimes it still upsets me. I was never once given the benefit of a doubt and I can’t help but think that it’s because I’m Dalish.”

“Dalish?”

Raina stopped outside of a cabin door. “A Dalish elf. Nomadic. Mostly keep away from humans, although our clan has dealings with certain people. Do you really not know?”

“I thought you were of the Fair Folk. Fae. There are elves in another region, but I haven’t come into contact with them.” Makenna rubbed her heel into the snow. “But I imagine things are completely different here.”

Raina stared at her as if she had grown another head. “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.” She pushed open the cabin door and walked inside. “I hope this will do.”

The cabin was rather spacious for one person. To the right was a fireplace with a couch and sitting in front. A desk rested against a partition wall and beside it was a bookshelf. Two beds were to the left—covered in purple blankets with gold stitching—and behind the partition wall were two more. A folded screen sat in the corner next a table holding a washbasin and pitcher.

“Several more beds than I need,” Makenna mused.

“There was a family living here before I think. I’m pretty sure they died in the Conclave explosion,” Raina said. “Eventually, you might have to share it, but for now it’s just you.”

“If that’s alright,” Makenna said, walking around to stare at the cold fireplace. A stack of firewood rested next to the hearth. She would need more to make it through the night without freezing.

Raina noticed what she was looking at. “The guards will make sure there is plenty of wood for you. And I’ll make sure dinner is delivered. This shouldn’t last more than a day or two. I’m sure once you speak to Leliana, things will be fine and you can move about without supervision.”

I doubt that.

Makenna didn’t voice her thought. She just nodded. “Thank you, Raina.”

Raina’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “It’s nice to hear someone use my name instead of Herald.”

Makenna perched on the bottom of one of the beds. “What are you the Herald of anyway?”

“They’re calling me the Herald of Andraste. She’s the Bride of the Maker. A woman who was killed for her beliefs and her cause—”

“Big shoes to fill.”

Raina snorted. “I’m not interested in dying for Chantry bullshit. I wish they wouldn’t call me that.”

“So, you fell from a rift and into a position you never wanted.” Sounds familiar. “What does your mother think of this?”

“She died when I was young. My Keeper raised me.”

Motherless too.

Makenna squashed the maternal instincts that roared to life inside of her and clasped her hands together in her lap. “You are handling it well from what I can see. If that’s any consolation.”

Raina’s response was interrupted by two men in armor walking into the cabin. One deposited firewood beside the hearth and crouched down to start a fire. The other set a tray down on the desk. Both saluted Raina when done and walked back outside to stand guard outside the door.

“I suppose I should let you get some rest,” Raina said. “If you need anything, just let the guards know.” She paused right before leaving and looked back to Makenna. “I don’t think I’m making a mistake, Makenna. I hope you don’t prove me wrong.”

Chapter Text

The chill woke her in the early morning. A log smoldered in the fireplace. Makenna pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked around the cabin. The day before trickled in slowly. She wasn’t home. She was in a strange place with strange people who believed she was addled. Donnchad was missing. Maybe even dead. Makenna sighed and flopped back down on the coverlet. The cold bit at her bare legs. All she had managed the night before was stripping off her boots and pants before she collapsed onto the bed. She needed a wash and breakfast and then maybe she could start gleaning information from those around her.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over to the side of the bed and rescued her pants from the floor. She pulled them on and shoved her feet into her boots without bothering to lace them. Makenna grabbed the porcelain pitcher and made her way to the door. It swung inwards and the guards jumped.

“Get back inside!” one of them barked at her. “You don’t have permission to leave this cabin.”

Makenna held up the pitcher. “I need snow. To wash. You might be content smelling like a carcass that’s been rotting in the sun, but I’m not.”

Red crept up his neck. “Listen bitch—”

“Knock it off, Yorick,” the other said, exasperation clear in her tone. Must’ve been tired of being stuck with the horse’s ass. Makenna could hardly blame her. The guard gestured for Makenna to gather her snow and go back into the cabin.

That answered one question. She wasn’t allowed to leave until someone else deemed it so. It meant no exploring. No talking to anyone. Not unless she snuck out. Which was a possibility. Makenna closed the door shut. Her fingers tapped against the porcelain as she fought the urge to melt the snow without the aid of the fire. But she didn’t know how magic existed and was treated in this world. Until then, it was better to remain cautious. She tossed a few logs onto the fire and held the pitcher near the flame until the heat from the handle licked her palm.

Makenna lamented the lack of bath—if she were home, she would be soaking in a tub by a fire now—and quickly stripped down to wipe herself with a wet cloth. When finished, she washed her underthings and then her blouse and trousers and laid them on the hearth to dry. She wrapped herself in the coverlet and searched through the drawers to find anything to wear. Pickings were slim. She found a few pairs of dark brown pants that may or may not go over her hips and two blouses—one emerald-green and one navy blue—that were tight around her chest. It would do until she could ask for something more fitting. She tucked the emerald-green blouse into her pants.

There was little to do in the cabin. She browsed the bookshelf. Books on the Divines, the Chantry, and Andraste—which meant nothing to her—sat on the shelves. They would help her learn. Makenna reached for a book on Andraste, remembering what Raina had told her, but a knock on the door made her pause. The door swung open.

“Master Tethras, she can’t—”

The door slammed shut and the dwarf stood in the entrance to the cabin. His eyes lingered on her clothes drying by the fire before sliding to her. “Sleep well?” he asked.

“Well enough,” she answered. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit.”

“Breakfast. I thought you might like it while it’s hot.”

“Oh? Are you normally such a thoughtful Samaritan?” she asked, leaning against the bookshelf in an effort to seem laid back.

“Sometimes. Especially when the Samaritan is interesting. The tavern’s right down the steps. What do you say?”

A tavern? That would be a great place for information. Drunks were loud and talkative. And perhaps Varric would be just as eager to share as he was to learn. “If you can get past my guard dogs, I’d be happy to join you for breakfast.”

“Leave it to me,” Varric said, gesturing for him to follow behind her. He opened the door and the guards wereready. Yorick had his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Even prisoners have to eat.”

“Master Tethras, Commander Cullen’s orders were clear—”

“Sister Nightingale already approved and I’ve pledged to take full responsibility,” Varric interrupted. “And she’s not a prisoner.”

Yorick’s upper lip curled. “On your head be it. Don’t call us if the madwoman slits your throat,” he spat, stalking away with hand still on his sword. The other guard rolled her eyes and followed him away.

“I expected them to put up more of a fight,” Makenna remarked.

“They know that if I lie about Leliana giving permission, I’m a dead man.”

“She sounds like a terrifying woman.”

“You have no idea.”

Makenna closed the door to the cabin behind them. Solas stood outside of his own cabin. Despite the commotion his eyes remained on the breach until she walked by. His eyes met hers and his mouth curved downward in displeasure.

“I didn’t think it was possible for Chuckles to look more dour than usual,” Varric said as they descended the stairs.

“It was probably the kiss.”

Varric’s laughter came from his belly. “You kissed Chuckles? I would’ve paid to see that.”

“Apparently, I am not as good as kisser as I thought.”

“I don’t think you’re the problem, Violet.”

“Violet?”

Varric paused outside the open tavern door. Music and laughter spilled out onto the snow. “You smell like them and your eye,” –he pointed to her left eye— “it’s the color of violets.”

“I see.”

He walked into the tavern and gestured for her to follow. A few looked up—she was new after all—but most were more interested in their food and drink to pay her any mind. Varric led her to a table in the back corner. Raina was already sitting there. “What’s the deal with it. Don’t see many people with a purple eye,” he asked right before they reached the table.

Makenna shrugged. “I could tell you a truth or lie.”

“Tell me story.”

Makenna slid onto a chair across from Raina and waited until Varric was seated beside Raina. The table was set for three people. Three tankards of an amber liquid—mead, if she had to guess—and three bowls of porridge with chopped bits of something in it. When she took a bite, she realized it was meat. Soft. Shredded. Maybe ram? She took another bite. “A story? I could manage that.”

Raina sighed. “It’s a ploy to get you to talk about yourself.”

“Is the story supposed to be about me?” Makenna asked, feigning innocence.

“I did ask about your eye,” Varric reminded her.

“You did.” She took another bite of her porridge. “That isn’t much of a story. It was a gift for one I lost. And that isn’t much of a story either,” she added before they could ask. “It involves alcohol, an angry lover, and a knife.” Her fingers trailed down the scar that slashed from the inner corner of her eyebrow and down across her cheek.

“That’s more of a story than you realize, Violet,” Varric said. “I’m curious as to how you can be gifted another eye.”

“Is it magic?” Raina asked.

“Depends on how you define magic. Is that thing out there magic?” Makenna gestured past the door to the general direction of the breach.

“Gone wrong,” Varric muttered.

“It doesn’t feel like magic. Not as I know it. It feels wrong. Crawls across my skin,” Makenna said. “I am not sure magic works the same here as it does back home.”

Raina and Varric shared a look. They didn’t believe her still. If the roles were reversed, she might have a hard time as well. She would have believed if they were from the human realm, but one she didn’t know? It would seem impossible. If she spent enough time here, then perhaps they might grow to believe her. If.

“But yes, to answer your question, it is magic. It is ingrained in everything we do back home.” Makenna steepled her fingers under her chin. “But I am curious about this place. What is it called?”

“The town is called Haven. It’s located in Fereldan. All of the land is called Thedas,” Raina answered.

“Are there maps I could look at?” Makenna asked.

“Some books have them. There is one in the war room that’s the best, but no one’s allowed in there except for leadership,” Raina said.

“And you,” Varric added. “You forget yourself, Herald.”

Raina rolled her eyes and shoved the rest of her porridge away. “I should go. They’ll be expecting me in the Chantry.” The way she said it told Makenna that it was the last place she wanted to be. “If you need anything, you can find me there. It’s the biggest building here so, it won’t be hard to miss.”

“Thank you, Raina.”

“So…” Varric crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you do besides collect head wounds and delusions?”

Even if they did believe her, she wouldn’t be honest. Not that they would understand who she was. It didn’t matter here. She mimicked his stance, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. “Are you asking what I do for fun?”

“Something like that.”

What did she do for fun? When was the last time she had fun? “I suppose…I read. Practice my archery—”

Varric perked up. “You’re an archer.” He looked down at her hands. “You’ve got the hands for it. Not as many callouses as I expected.”

“Enchanted gloves. Takes most of the bite from the bow. But I did not always have them.”

“I’d like to see you shoot. Maybe work in a little competition,” he suggested.

Makenna raised an eyebrow. “What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you tell me the truth of where you’re from and if you win, I owe you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Anything you want. As long as it doesn’t get me killed,” he added.

“Well, that takes most of my fun.”

Varric chuckled.

She wasn’t very interested in competing, but a chance to see more of this place and win a favor? That alone was worth it. “I agree to your terms. When?”

“Now.”

Makenna straightened up. “Now?”

“Why not? Do you have anything better to do?”

If she said yes, she would be shuffled back to her cabin. There really was nothing better to do now. “Lead the way.”

Varric slapped a few coins down on the table and waved at her to follow him out of the tavern. The smell of the food and woodsmoke trailed after them until they reached the gates. Haven really was small. Even by a village’s standards. Perhaps there had been more before the Breach. Varric led her past the gates. Swords clanged to her right. A hammer clanged against metal to her left. Her ears rang. Varric veered left towards the blacksmith.

“Take your pick, Violet,” he said, pointing at the bows leaning against the wooden fence.

The blacksmith eyed her as she crouched down to look them over. They were fairly standard. Nothing special about them. The craftmanship was decent but nothing compared to what she could get back home. Magic didn’t spark against her palm. The wood was cold. Dead. Makenna sighed. She grabbed the only recurve and stood up. She tested the string with her forefinger. The tension was good. It could do with some adjustments. Nothing she couldn’t do herself.

“This one will do,” she told Varric, turning in time to see him press coin into the blacksmith’s hand.

Varric held up a quiver of arrows for her. It was strange to have a weapon in her hand again. Years had passed since she last held a bow or knife. Makenna relied so much on her magic in recent times that physical weapons often seemed unnecessary. But she still knew where to strap her quiver and how to quickly pluck an arrow from it. She pressed her finger against the tip of the arrow until blood beaded around the metal. Perfect. Makenna nodded.

“We’re hunting, Violet. Ram. Whoever shoots the most in the time wins.”

“An odd competition. Are you sure you’re not using me for a good deed, Varric?” she teased.

He shrugged. “People have to eat. Might as well kill two birds.”

“The birds might disagree.”

Varric nodded to the icy lake. “Are you chicken, Violet?”

She snorted. “Never.”

Makenna wasn’t a chicken, but she was regretting agreeing to a competition in the bitter cold. Her clothes were not well-fitting and too thin to be good winter wear. No gloves. No hat. Her nose was pink and tingly from the cold. She should’ve read the low grey clouds. Even though tinged green by the breach, they still indicated new snow. Perhaps this was why Varric had roped her into hunting. People needed more food in the cold. Leather and wool to make better clothing.

They were neck and neck. Three each. One more to declare a winner. Makenna wanted that favor, but Varric was good. Better than she imagined. The last ram ran through the snow. Her arrow was nocked. Ready to fly. A glint of metal in the corner of her eye. Varric. She waited. If she wanted to win, she had to be clever. She waited for the sound of his crossbow releasing. Waited to see the bolt fly through the air. Her eye tracked it, making it glow bright against the stark whiteness of the clearing. Makenna loosed her arrow and immediately nocked another. As the first one hit Varric’s bolt to knock it off course, the second landed on its target. The ram fell.

She was victorious. The favor was hers.

“I’ll admit, Violet,” –Varric stepped out from the tree line and stopped at the last ram— “that’s one hell of a trick.”

“I like winning,” she said.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He looked her over, noticing her slight shiver. “I owe you a favor and a drink. The tavern?”

“Please.”

~

She waited until silence fell over Haven. Clouds blanketed the sky threatening another bout of snow. It was just what she needed. The snow built up beside the cabin muffled her landing as she hopped out from the window. A branch caught her cloak and she paused to untangle herself. Makenna looked around, a square of light catching her attention, and she raised her eyes to meet Solas’. He was standing outside of his cabin—the same as he was earlier—holding a pitcher full of snow. She saw his eyebrow raise from where she was crouched.

With the hope that he wouldn’t raise the alarm, Makenna brought her forefinger to her lips. But he didn’t look as if he was going to rat her out. He looked curious. With a subtle nod, he walked back into his cabin and closed the door. She would prefer if no one knew she had snuck out, but she could handle one man.

The Chantry loomed over Haven. Makenna still wasn’t sure what it was. Churches didn’t exist in Underhill. At least, not like this. It reminded her of the cults she might find back home. But she didn’t understand religion. Widespread belief, sure. Belief is what kept Underhill alive and growing. Although, it hadn’t grown in some time. Makenna didn’t understand the Chantry.

Light snowfall covered her tracks as she made her way to the Chantry. She darted behind tents and trees and cabins. No one noticed her. Even if someone were to lay eyes on her, they would see a person in a cloak with their hood pulled up. Nothing inherently suspicious given the weather. She just had to be quick before it was discovered that she had snuck out of the cabin.

Makenna breathed a little easier when she slipped into the Chantry. The hall was blessedly empty. Doors were shut tight including the door all the way at the end. The war room. Her goal.

She stayed on the carpet to muffle her steps. There were enough alcoves to dart into if someone were to come out. Worse case, she would use her magic. The war room door didn’t even creak as she slowly opened it. She peeked inside to confirm it was empty before darting inside and pulling the door closed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a necklace she had pilfered from the cabin. The silver chain glinted in the candlelight. A heavy pendant made of a pointed black jewel hung from the chain. Makenna held it over the world map and gently moved it in circles.

The Storm Coast. Fallow Mire. Val Royeaux. The Hissing Wastes. She went over everything, even crossing the water to Nevarra and Tevinter. Names that meant nothing to her.

Show me something. Anything. Donnchad has to be here somewhere.

The pendant led her all over the map, but never stopped on one location. She didn’t understand. It was picking up on something, but it wasn’t giving her a place to look. Makenna huffed in frustration. She shoved the pendant back in her pocket. She would have to try again another time. Donnchad was never one to give up on her and she wasn’t going to give up on him. She left the war room and the Chantry as quietly as she came. She paused outside the doors and drew in a deep breath. Cold air filled her lungs. It couldn’t be hopeless. She could try again tomorrow night. And the night after that.

A branch broke and she froze. Her head swiveled from side to side, but she saw no one. Had someone followed her? Were they hiding? A muffled scream came from a thicket of trees beside the Chantry. Makenna stalked towards the noise.

“Be quiet!” her guard, Yorick if she recalled, hissed at an elven woman splayed on the snowy ground. Three buttons on her blouse were missing. Probably ripped off in the scuffle. Her chest heaved and her cheeks were stained with tears. Yorick brandished a dagger.

Makenna leaned against the stone façade of the building. “I’d say I’m surprised Yorick, but I would’ve guessed this about you from the moment we met.”

He whirled around, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not supposed to be out.”

“And you’re not supposed to be forcing yourself on another person, yet here we are.”

“Person? Rabbits aren’t people,” he said, licking his bottom lip in a way that made Makenna want to gag. “Now, go about your business before I report you to the Commander. He’s been looking for a reason to lock you in the dungeon.”

Makenna tipped her head back and laughed. “You’ll be lucky if I let you live, Yorick. So far, you’re not endearing yourself to me.”

He stepped away from the woman and she tried to skitter away but he locked her in place with a glance. “Endear myself, huh? I suppose the Commander won’t mind if I just kill you then since you’re lurking about and who knew what you were going to do if left to your own devices. No one will ask too many questions and no one will know what else I’m going to do to you.”

Makenna pushed herself from the wall and closed the distance between them before he even had the chance to raise the knife. Her fingers dug into his chin and she stared into him, pushing past the superficial layers to the rot inside. “You are a sorry bastard, Yorick. I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.” Her grip tightened until his jaw creaked in protest. Yorick raised the knife, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring his arm down to stab her. He shook from the effort. Sweat beaded on his temples. Blood dripped from his nose. He choked on words, none of them coming out, until drool leaked from the corner of his mouth. Makenna gave him a grin that bordered on feral. “You’re going to march to the Commander and tell him what you were going to do. Tell him everything you’ve done until your tongue feels like it will shrivel up and fall out of your mouth. Submit to your punishment and wither away until you are nothing but a husk.”

She let him go.

Yorick stumbled back. His eyes darted back and forth, unable to land on her, and then he took off. He tried to run towards the tavern but his feet led him towards the Commander’s tent. He tried to veer off to the apothecary, but he course corrected back towards the tent. It was a futile effort. He would follow her will no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“Please.”

Makenna’s attention turned back to the woman who was staring at with her wide eyes and a trembling lip. Fresh tears rolled down her skin and dripped onto her torn blouse. Makenna crouched down and held out her hand. “Are you alright?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” the woman sobbed. “Please, I have—”

Makenna gently took her hand and coaxed her to her feet. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you should go back to your quarters until morning.” She clasped the woman’s hands between hers. “And it’s very important that you tell no one what you saw. Yes?”

The woman nodded and Makenna let her go. For a moment, neither of them moved. It was clear the woman expected Makenna to hurt her and when it sank in the Makenna wasn’t going to, she took off towards the servant’s quarters in the Chantry. Makenna wasn’t worried and if anyone were to be suspicious, they would have more to worry about with Yorick’s confessions.

After climbing back into the window of her cabin, Makenna shucked off her boots and collapsed on the nearest bed. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow she would try again.

Chapter Text

A tray was set down on the low table in front of her and Makenna looked over the edge of the book—a random one she had grabbed from the shelf—she was reading. The elven woman from the night before stood by the fire with her hands clasped in front of her and her gaze on the floor. The tray she had sat down held Makenna’s breakfast. A hash made with egg, onion, potatoes, and ram. The same honey mead from the morning before sat in a tankard beside the plate. Makenna carefully closed the book and set it on the side table. She leaned forward and grabbed the fork to spear a potato. Nice and crispy. Sage lingered on her tongue without overwhelming her. Reminded her of her mother’s roasted potatoes.

“Thank you,” Makenna said, leaning back and raising her eyes to stare at the woman. She took a moment to study her. The woman looked thin, but Makenna could see the musculature of her arms and legs. A woman used to hard labor then. Black hair was pulled back in a tight braid. Long fingers with callouses. “Do you have a name?”

“Mihri, my lady,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Mihri.”

“Lady Josephine and Lady Nightingale have requested your presence in the Chantry after breakfast. I was told to escort you.”

“I see.” Makenna grabbed the plate and leaned back in her chair, balancing the plate on her lap. While she had been expecting this, she wondered if someone had seen her in the Chantry the night before. Or if someone had seen her interfere with Yorick. But she doubted that. She would have noticed.

Mihri remained quiet as Makenna ate. She squeezed her hands together and shifted her weight from foot to foot. Teeth dug into her bottom lip. She was nervous. Perhaps a little scared.

“How old are you, Mihri?” Makenna asked between bites.

“Thirty, my lady.”

“Makenna is fine, Mihri.”

“I…I didn’t tell anyone my…Makenna,” Mihri whispered. “About last night. About what you did to him.”

Makenna set the empty plate on the tray and grabbed the tankard. She leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs at the knees. “And what did I do to him, Mihri?”

Mihri swallowed. “I don’t…I don’t know, but you…glowed and he was terrified. When you spoke, every part of me was compelled. If you had been focusing on me, I believe I would have done everything you asked of me.” She continued to wring her hands. “I’ve never seen magic like that before.”

Makenna sipped her mead. “What makes you so sure it’s magic?”

Mihri finally looked up, bright blue eyes meeting Makenna’s. “What else could it be?”

Makenna hummed. “I know you didn’t tell anyone, Mihri. And I know you won’t.” She set the empty tankard beside the tray and stood. “Now, I suppose I have a meeting to get to.”

Mihri opened and closed her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but she nodded instead and led Makenna out into the snow. It had snowed quite a bit the night before, but foot traffic had cleared the pathways. Makenna was still careful on the stone steps. The last thing she needed was to skate to the Chantry on her ass. It would be quite unbecoming, although, it would be hilarious. For everyone else. Mihri opened the door to the Chantry and they escaped into the warmth. She stopped outside of a door on the left just before the war room.

“They are waiting inside, my lady,” she bowed her head and left Makenna standing outside the door.

Makenna raised her hand to knock. The wood was warm against her knuckles. As soon as she knocked, the door swung open. Leliana and Josephine were already sitting at a desk. Josephine’s desk, if Makenna had to guess. A tray with three teacups and a steaming tea pot sat on Josephine’s desk. They both stood up as Makenna entered.

“Good morning, Lady Carnahan,” Josephine gestured to an empty chair across from Leliana. “Would you join us for tea?”

She asked as if Makenna had the option to say no. “I would love to,” she said instead of protesting. She sat down in the cushioned chair as Josephine poured three cups.

“Cream and sugar?” Josephine asked.

“Please.”

“Extra cream for me, Josie,” Leliana said. “Before you came, we were discussing a rather interesting spectacle that happened last night.”

“Spectacle?” Makenna took the cup from Josephine and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “What did I miss?”

“A guard stumbled into Cullen’s tent late last night and began to confess to a number of crimes and illicit behavior. Cullen was quite surprised to wake up and find the man in his tent. He didn’t stop confessing even as soldiers tried to remove him from the tent.” Leliana raised the cup to her lips. “He is in the dungeon. I believe they had to muzzle him to get him to stop.”

“Oh dear. Has Cullen decided what to do with him?” Josephine asked.

“The crimes are numerous and quite…unsavory. While Cullen wants to deal with him publicly, if word spreads about the kind of soldiers we have in the Inquisition, it could ruin our already terrible reputation.”

“Do people not like the Inquisition?” Makenna asked.

“We are usurpers in the eyes of the Chantry. A blight on the order they are trying to restore,” Leliana answered. “Fancy words, but they are scrambling after the Conclave.”

“The Inquisition is supposed to be hope. People who will shine light in the darkness, reveal the perpetrators, and restore order,” Josephine added. “Men like that will make it difficult.”

“Yorick. He was one of your guards,” Leliana said, turning her attention to Makenna. “Did he seem strange that day?”

“He seemed foul-tempered, but there was nothing odd about that,” Makenna answered nonchalantly. “I can’t imagine what could cause him to act like this. Perhaps bad drink? Perhaps a change of morals?”

“We will have to see if he will have anything to tell us when and if he returns to normal.” Leliana sat back. “Regardless, he will face punishment. You cannot confess such things and get away unscathed.”

“I suppose, but I can’t imagine you brought me here to gossip about one man’s odd behavior,” Makenna said, setting her half-empty cup onto the desk.

Leliana mimicked Makenna’s movements and set her cup down as well. “You would be correct. We have questions—”

“Many have questioned the Herald’s decision to keep you out of the dungeon. In her silence, they are left to speculate that you are connected in some way. Some have even taken to believing you are both demons plotting the demise of the Chantry. We must steer the narrative in a more positive direction,” Josephine interrupted, giving Leliana a pointed look. “I want to make it clear that this is not an interrogation.”

“A demon? I’ve been called many things, but that’s a first.” Makenna sighed. “I’ll answer your questions, but you won’t believe me and it will give no solution to your problem.”

“Where are you from?” Leliana asked. “Your accent tells me somewhere up north, but it is not strong enough for me to determine the location. I have sent ravens, but no one I’ve contacted has ever heard of you. You don’t exist on any registries.”

“I wouldn’t. I come from a place called Underhill. It is nowhere on your map because it does not exist here and I don’t belong here. A tear opened between my world and what you called the Fade. I don’t know how long I was there, but when I saw another tear, I jumped into it with the hope that I would be returned home.”

“The Herald stated your injuries were quite grievous and you did hit your head. Even if your story were true, you are correct that it is quite unbelievable,” Josephine said. “Perhaps we should stick with amnesia and a head wound.”

Makenna folded her arms in her lap. “If you’d like.”

“It may be untrue, but you speak as if you are convinced,” Leliana noted. “Either you’re telling the truth and we have another problem to add to our plates or you’re quite delusional. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Time will tell, I suppose,” Makenna said.

Leliana inclined her head. “I suppose.” She stood up, tugging at her gloves. “I have a few matters to attend. Thank you for the tea, Josie.” She nodded at Makenna. “And thank you for the company, Lady Carnahan. I look forward to uncovering your secrets.”

Makenna had no doubt about that.

Leliana’s departure left Josephine and Makenna alone. “Lady Josephine, would you have a library I can access. I would like to learn as much as I can about this place if I am to remain here and the reading material in my cabin is quite dull.”

“I…of course,” –Josephine stood up from her desk and walked around to a bookshelf— “is there a subject you would prefer.”

“Politics. Magics. History.” Makenna ticked them off. “I read a book on the Chantry but it read more like a…book of worship than a history guide of the establishment.”

Josephine nodded. “That is many of them I am afraid. Although, I do have one from an outside perspective that you might like. It is more informative and less devoted.” Josephine turned with a five books stacked on top of each other. “These would be best to start with and I have more when you finish.”

Makenna stood and relieved Josephine of the heavy stack. “Thank you. I will take these to the cabin and start.”

“Of course.” Josephine opened the door and held it open for Makenna. “Lady Carnahan—”

“You may call me Makenna, Josephine.”

“Makenna…I find myself wanting to believe your arrival here is a ruse but I can’t help but want to believe that you are telling the truth. Are you telling the truth?”

“Oh, yes, Josephine. I only lie when it benefits me and lying means no one will trust me and I will learn nothing about how to return home,” Makenna said. “And when people think you’re mad, they get careless because they know you won’t be believed. Careless people fall into traps of their own making and they always act surprised when it clamps over their ankle and they can’t run away. I quite enjoy watching others undo themselves.”

Josephine swallowed. “I see. That is quite…enlightening. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the tea, Josephine. I would like to do it again.” Makenna said while walking away. Josephine stared after her a moment, an unreadable look in her gaze, before straightening herself up and closing the door. Even without an escort, Makenna went right back to her cabin. She needed them to believe that she was compliant. Wouldn’t cause trouble. The guard—only one this time—opened her cabin door for her as she approached and then shut it tight after she went inside.

Fire roared in the fireplace. A fresh stack of wood sat beside it. Breakfast dishes had been cleared away. Books had been reorganized on the shelf. The pile of clothes that had accumulated by her washing area had been picked up. Mihri was there, placing fresh stacks of clothes in the dresser next to the freshly made bed.

Makenna set the stack of books down on the desk. “You’re still here,” she said, sitting on the chair.

Mihri gently closed the dresser drawer before turning around to face Makenna. Her hands clasped together and rested against the front of her dress. “I…Lady Josephine and Lady Nightingale were searching for a servant to assist you. I volunteered.”

“And why would you do that?”

“You saved me, my…Makenna. I wish to repay you and ask…is your magic the kind that can be taught?”

“Mihri—”

“I’m a fast learner! Hard worker. I can learn anything—”

Makenna held her hand up and Mihri quieted. “Is the magic here the kind that can be taught?”

Mihri shook her head. “Mages are born, not made.”

“Yet, you are certain I can teach you.”

“You are no mage. At least, not how mages normally are. Yorick was a templar, if you were a mage, he could’ve stopped you. Maybe even kill you. Other templars would have felt it.” Mihri began to pace, showing more than her usual deference. “They whisper about you and say that you either addled or a demon and that you can’t possibly be from another world, but no matter what you are you saved me and it is clear you don’t belong here, my lady.” When Makenna didn’t say anything Mihri’s ears reddened and she dropped her gaze while coming to complete stop. “I’m sorry, I spoke boldly, I—”

Makenna laughed and Mihri fell silent. “I prefer boldness, Mihri. It makes for better conversation.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know how much I could teach you. If you could even will the kind of magic I use into existence, but I think the results could be fascinating if you could. I will show you what I can on one condition.” She held up a forefinger and leaned forward. “I find that I am lacking knowledge that could be useful to me. I will teach you if you teach me.”

Mihri smiled and nodded, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress. “I would be happy to—”

“But this must remain an absolute secret, Mihri. I have not been forthcoming about my magic for obvious reasons.”

“Of course, Makenna. I will tell no one.”

~

Music and laughter spilled out of the tavern. Varric waved her inside and Makenna made a beeline for the table. Raina sat inside as before but was also joined by Cassandra and Solas. She didn’t think Solas was the type to eat in the tavern. He seemed like someone who preferred quiet. An empty seat waited between Raina and Solas. Makenna claimed that seat while Varric—begrudgingly—sat next to Cassandra. A plate of roasted ram on top of roasted carrots and potatoes took up the middle of the table. A basket of bread sat beside it and on the other side was a pitcher of wine.

“Did Nightingale interrogate you, Violet?” Varric asked, pushing the serving plate towards her.

Makenna snorted while grabbing her fork to stab the end piece of the roast. “Don’t be ridiculous. We had tea and lovely conversation.” She added potatoes and green beans to her plate before passing the serving spoon to Raina. “Perhaps not as dramatic as you imagined.”

Varric tilted the breadbasket towards her until she grabbed a roll. “I’m just glad you’re not sitting in a dungeon right now.”

“Are you now?”

“Of course. Can’t ask for more stories if you’re locked up.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Varric—”

“What? I want to hear more about this place you come from that isn’t Thedas.” He winked. “An actual story this time.”

“You are very interested in a place you don’t believe exists.” Makenna popped a potato in her mouth.

“I am interested in stories,” Varric retorted. “I don’t need them to be believable.”

“And that’s why you’re always in trouble,” Cassandra said.

Raina leaned closer. “They always bicker,” she murmured to Makenna. “I think they like each other.”

Makenna laughed. “You’re probably right.”

Solas was silent. He watched them but didn’t add anything. A silent observer. Makenna was always wary of those. Never could tell what was going on in their heads. Never knew what they would use against another if it came down to it. Makenna would have to keep a close eye on him.

“Well, got any stories for us, Violet?” Varric prompted.

Solas’ stormy eyes turned to her as she nodded. “I have plenty. Is there anything specific you’d like to hear?”

Varric held out his hands. “I will take whatever you think of.”

Makenna took a sip of wine. “Oh dear, let me think.”

“You could tell us about yourself,” Cassandra suggested, her eyes narrowing.

“I am quite boring,” Makenna said. “Grew up in a small village. My mother and my big sister were healers. I was not gifted in healing or gardening or anything they thought I should be. In my mother’s words, I was a hellion. I preferred to hunt with my father and sneak around the forest with…others.” Makenna took another sip of wine. “I can give you a much better story. A story about betrayal, loss, revenge.”

Everyone leaned closer to her. Even Cassandra looked interested. Solas wasn’t looking at her, but he had stopped eating.

Makenna bit back a grin. If it was a story they wanted, a story they would get. “A story of a once-normal woman who ascended into godhood.”

Solas’ eyes slid back to her.

Makenna set her fork down and took another sip of wine, relishing the attention. “The courts where I live can be complicated. There are many, all ruling over their parcel of land and people with their own rules. I lived in the land of The Court of the Morrigan. She is our patron goddess if you would, but she split herself into pieces, into three. Badb, Macha, and Nemain. Each embodied a part of The Morrigan. The chaos and destruction of war, the protector of women and children, death and rebirth and the cyclical nature of all things.” She speared a piece of ram. “Most of the time they ruled harmoniously. They did until the schism, that is.”

“The schism?” Varric asked. “They stopped agreeing?”

“The stories vary are on what happened. I’m not entirely certain of the truth, but regardless, Nemain disappeared and the pieces became imbalanced. Many changes happened quickly, people were fractured, and Badb began to rule with an iron fist.” Makenna took a bite. “Badb liked having the power, and she was loathe to consider anything that might conceivably happen to take it from her. One of her new rules stated that no daughters were to be born from her or her son’s wives—”

“Why? What does having a daughter have to do with anything?” Raina interrupted.

“Badb, Macha, and Nemain are titles. They are passed down to daughters with the most power. Badb didn’t want to give up her power, so no daughters of her bloodline,” Makenna answered.

“It’s not a terribly fair system. What about sons?” Raina asked.

“It isn’t fair,” Makenna agreed. “Any system whether matriarchal or patriarchal is going to be unfair to someone. And it was very unfair for a woman named Rowena. A woman who lived on the outskirts and caught the eye of one of Badb’s sons.”

“Did she fall in love?” Cassandra asked.

Makenna nodded. “Oh yes, that is usually how it goes. He proved himself to be charming and affectionate and so when he asked for her hand, she didn’t hesitate. He whisked her away to the court to meet his mother, a truly terrifying woman to behold. Some even described her as more monster than woman.”

“You’ve never seen her?” Varric asked.

“If I have, she wasn’t as monstrous as they said. At least, not on the outside.” Makenna shrugged. “Badb was incredibly cruel to Rowena, but Rowena believed her love was reason enough to deal with it through the ceremony planning stages and well into their first year of marriage. Until of course, she found out she was pregnant, then she was terrified.”

“Because she might have a girl?” Raina whispered, her food forgotten by this point.

“And she did. A perfect little girl with ten fingers and ten toes and a chubby-cheeked smile. A child she hid in her small part of the court. Only her husband and a trusted friend knew of the birth of a daughter in the court. Rowena tried to persuade her husband to leave, but he wouldn’t. He promised her all he had to do was warm his mother up to the idea of a granddaughter and everything would be fine. The hidden child grew in secret and Rowena despaired at the kind of life that was for a child.”

“Why didn’t she leave?” Cassandra demanded.

Makenna sighed. “I’m sure that was a question Rowena asked herself often. Why not just leave? But she kept waiting and hoping that either her husband would take them to safety or Badb would wake up one morning and change her mind about daughters. But neither happened. One evening, Rowena returned to find her daughter gone. She searched every inch of the court, hoping that her daughter was playing a spirited game of hide and seek, but those hopes were dashed as she entered the throne room and found Badb standing over Rowena’s child’s lifeless body. A sight I will not describe here because it is far too gruesome for a dinner chat.” Makenna leaned forward. “Badb had used nightshade grown from her own garden.”

“No,” Cassandra murmured. “She could have sent them away. Why murder?”

“I’m sure Rowena asked that of her. Why not banish them, that would have been far kinder in the end but Badb was not a kind person, and neither was her son. He had told his mother. Brought the child to her. And did nothing to stop her.” Makenna gripped her knees under the table, her eyes focusing on her plate. “What happened after is muddled. Depends on who you ask, I suppose. Rowena fell into despair for weeks or she was locked away in the court for the weeks. Regardless, she withdrew and no one knew what she had been doing until the night she sought an audience with Badb.”

“What happened?” Raina leaned closer to Makenna.

“Invited Badb to tea. Said she wanted to beg for forgiveness—”

“Forgiveness for what?” Cassandra sputtered.

“It was a trick, I bet,” Varric said.

Makenna smirked. “Well, you see, people like Badb are very hard to kill. Their sheer power can either stop someone before it happens or they can heal themselves. However, if you were to weaken with them with, let’s say, a poison, then it becomes much easier to stab them to death. Which is what Rowena did. Stabbed Badb and carved out her heart, a fetid, rotten thing, and left her in a pool of her own blood. And then Rowena turned the knife on herself—”

“No!” Cassandra and Raina both shouted.

Makenna raised an eyebrow. “But she didn’t get far. Badb dying left a power vacuum and no one to fill it. Rowena held the knife to her chest and heard a voice in her head. A voice that hadn’t been heard in many years.” She paused for dramatic effect. “The Morrigan is a unique entity. Split herself into pieces and yet still lives in a state that many can’t define. Sees all and knows all but cannot act anymore. She reached into Rowena and offered a new beginning as a hand to enact the will of The Morrigan.”

“And did she take it?” Solas asked, speaking up for the first time since she had started the story.

Her eyes met his. “She did,” she whispered.

A hush fell over the table as they took it in. Makenna’s fingers dug into her knee and she forced herself to relax them. Solas looked away, freeing her from his gaze.

“Not bad, Violet,” Varric finally said. “Let me know if I can use that.”

She snorted. “It’s a story, Varric, feel free to use it as you see fit.”

The rest of dinner passed by, not nearly as eventful as her story. They pressed her for more information but she shook her head with a secretive smile and promised them more at another time. In hindsight, she should’ve picked another story. She didn’t know why she told that one when there were so many others.

They parted ways outside the tavern. Cassandra bid them goodnight, heading to the Chantry while Varric offered to escort Raina to her cabin. That left Makenna and Solas walking in the same direction to their own cabins. He wasn’t a man of many words, or if he was, he didn’t waste them on her.

It was until they reached his door that he turned to her. “Is there truth in it?” he asked.

“The story? Who knows, really,” she mused, clasping her hands behind her back and tilted her head up to look at the breach. “There is truth in all things, even lies. Do you think it’s true?”

“From your lips, it rings true, but I wonder if it is the whole truth.”

Yes, she had reason to be wary of him.

“I suppose we’ll never know.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, inclining his head to her. “Goodnight, Makenna.”

“Goodnight, Solas.”

She waited until the door closed to his cabin before turning to her own. Fire blazed in the fireplace, keeping it warm for her. Mihri jumped up from the armchair. “Makenna!”

“You waited, Mihri?” Makenna asked, stopping in front of the fireplace to unlace her boots. “It’s late.”

“I waited in case you needed anything before bed.”

Makenna plopped down on the couch, letting the warmth unthaw her toes. “I don’t need anything, but the company is nice. I’m not used to being alone.”

Mihri sat back down. “I understand. Living in the servant’s quarters, we are practically on top of each other, and it’s not so different from home.”

“Do you have children?” Makenna asked.

Mihri nodded. “Two boys.” She twisted her fingers together. “I had to leave them behind. The Inquisition pays well, but I thought it too dangerous to bring them. I send money to my sister for them when I can, but I miss them terribly. Do you have children, Makenna?”

Makenna smiled—a soft, sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes—and stared into the fire. “I did. Once.”

Chapter Text

Makenna slipped her guard often, finding it ridiculously easy, so easy she wondered if the lax guard was a test. Even as she shimmied out of the window, she felt eyes on her. Probably Leliana’s. That woman didn’t miss much. There were times Makenna would be out, walking with Varric after a particularly heavy meal, and Leliana’s hawk-like gaze never left Makenna once. Now, even as Makenna walked past Varric’s tent and down the stone steps to the gate, she felt eyes on her back.

No one stopped her. And it wasn’t as if she intended on leaving.

She strode through the gates and past Cullen as he barked orders at the trainees. The sounds of metal clanging against wood followed her into the thatch of trees beyond Cullen’s tent. She knelt down beside a hardy green plant, knees grazing the snow, her gloved fingers touching a leaf.

Unbeknownst to her, someone had complained to Josephine about the lack of fitting clothes in her cabin and a few days into her stay, Mihri had walked in with a stack of blouses, trousers, underthings, thick wool socks, a warm overcoat, and gloves.

“Wonderful,” she had said, pairing a cream-colored button-up with green trousers and looking at herself in the mirror. “But I do miss the finer clothes from my home.”

“Did you have many clothes, Makenna?” Mihri had asked, putting the clothes away in the wardrobe.

“Oh, yes. You would’ve loved my closet, Mihri. I had gowns for every occasion.”

“Only those with money have that. Did you have that?”

“Not money, but I suppose I did have something.”

Mihri didn’t push for a better answer.

Now, she barely felt the cold through her wool-lined coat and heavy leather gloves. She carefully pulled the leaf from the stem and held it up to her nose.

“It is called elfroot,” a voice came from behind, accompanied by the quiet crunching of snow under feet.

She looked up, unsurprised to find Solas walking towards her. While they hadn’t really spoke since the night she told the story in the tavern, and he hadn’t joined them for dinner again, he often watched her every time she left her cabin. He watched has if she might slip up and give him all of her secrets. Makenna simultaneously disliked and enjoyed the attention. His interest in her was dangerous, and she had to be careful lest she reveal something about herself she didn’t want to. But part of her wanted to be a little reckless every time she felt his gaze.

“What are its properties?” she asked, crushing it in her fingers until the scent of mint hit her nose.

“Healing. It can be ground into a paste for a poultice. Some chew on the stalk to numb the mouth, quite useful for teething children. The oils can be extracted and used in a potion. Some even smoke it, or so I am told,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back, reminding her of an academic.

“Quite a versatile little plant,” she mused, nibbling the edge of the leaf. Earth and mint coated her tongue.

“Indeed.”

“You are quite knowledgeable, Solas.” She stood. “At least, that is what I’ve been told.”

“I enjoy learning.”

Makenna bit back a smirk. “And humble, as well.” She clasped her hands behind her back, mirroring his pose. “Would you be opposed if I picked your brain now and again? Since I am stuck here, I’d like to learn what I can about this place.”

“I would be happy to help,” he said, regarding her with those unfathomable eyes. “Are you truly not from Thedas?”

“I am not,” she confirmed.

“Quite an impossible situation, and yet, you clearly believe it to be true,” he murmured, eyes searching hers. “You are quite the conundrum, Makenna. Your story is unbelievable and yet, most are compelled to believe you after speaking to you. The question is, are you telling the truth or are you delusional and charming?”

“I suppose time will tell.”

“Perhaps. If you are telling the truth, it has troubling implications.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “If my people were to spill into this world with wild abandon, well, Thedas would be quite changed and not necessarily for the better.”

“Is your home that terrible?”

“Not at all. But it is different. I imagine, many would have trouble adapting this world. It would be quite disastrous.”

“Are you having trouble adapting, Makenna?”

“No. I actually find this place, and the company, quite refreshing.”

Solas hesitated, eyes flicking down to her mouth, before meeting her gaze once more. “Why did you kiss me?”

Makenna couldn’t help her smile. “I needed your tongue,” she said knowing exactly how it sounded, and enjoying the pink tinge of his ears at her words. “Would be terrible for communication if we couldn’t speak the same language.”

“And how did you manage that?” He leaned down closer, eyes boring into hers now, as he waited for her answer.

“I am full of secrets, Solas,” Makenna whispered, her faces inches away from his. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

Solas leaned away. “I look forward to that day.”

“Me too,” she lied, unsure if she would allow him that close. Magic existed in this world, but it wasn’t like hers, and didn’t know how they would take it. She had noticed things. Noticed how people flinched as Solas walked through Haven. Noticed how they gave him a wide berth. The people here didn’t trust mages. The giant breach crackling in the sky certainly didn’t seem to help matters.

“I have books in my cabin on herbology and arcane and practical uses of herbs if you’re interested,” he said, changing the subject.

“I am.”

With a nod, he turned and walked back the way she came. She followed him out of the trees and past the clanging swords. Cullen turned his head just in time to see her following Solas and he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was going to be having another word with his guards.

Makenna spied Raina speaking with the Blacksmith. The first time Makenna had spoken to Raina, she had noticed how young the woman was. Too young to be the figurehead of a struggling organization. Deep circles darkened her eyes. Her mouth pinched into a frown as she nodded at whatever the Blacksmith was saying to her.

“Why her?” Makenna asked. “She’s barely older than a child.”

Solas followed her gaze. His eyebrows drew inward and something glinted in his eyes. Makenna could almost swear it was guilt. “Because she bears the mark. She has the power to close the rifts, quite by accident, I’m afraid.”

“How?”

“Unfortunately, the Herald does not remember how she came to bear the mark.” He walked through the gate, turning his gaze back to the path in front of him. “Regardless, it is quite permanent. Attempting to remove the mark might cause more harm than good, and we don’t know how it would affect the Herald.”

“I’ve been reading about The Chantry and Andrastian faith, you don’t strike me as an Andrastian,” she said.

“I am not.”

“Yet you call her Herald instead of her name. Why is that?”

“Titles often become more important than names. Thedas will remember her as The Herald of Andraste, but few will remember Raina Lavellan.”

“Sure, but you’re closer to her than most.”

“Am I?”

“I thought so, unless I misunderstood. Are you not friends?”

Solas faltered a moment, foot sliding across packed snow, but he straightened and looked over his shoulder at Makenna. “While it is true that she seeks my counsel about magic and The Fade, I am not sure if that is enough to make us friends.”

“I see.”

Strange, discordant noise pricked at her ears. Makenna paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to their cabins and looked back at the breach.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, noticing her attention.

“It’s odd. Sometimes it sounds as if it’s singing, but it cannot agree on the song. Do you hear it?” she looked at him, noticing a mix of disbelief and trepidation cross his face for a brief second, before he shook his head. “Hmm. Perhaps it’s just me then.” But she didn’t think so.

Makenna followed him to his cabin—noticing her guard’s angry expressions as they stood outside her door—and kicked the snow of her boots before stepping inside. Where her cabin had several beds—a family cabin—Solas’ only held one. A low fire crackled in the hearth. A desk sat across from the bed, covered in books and sheaths of paper. Solas went to the bookshelf to select the books for her while she wandered over to the desk. The stacks of paper held charcoal sketches. She recognized the breach on a few of them. She stopped at one. A shattered building, at least, she assumed that’s what it was. People running away, frozen in place, and they looked as if they had been burned. Makenna could almost smell the burning flesh. Her stomach turned.

Solas cleared his throat and she looked over at him, the paper clutched in her hand. She gently set it down and curled her hand into a fist to stop the shaking. “You are quite good. Have you always been an artist?”

He crossed the room to stare down at the sketch. “I have been for many years.” He straightened the sketch against the stack. “It’s the conclave. The aftermath of the breach and the explosion.”

“Those poor people,” she murmured.

“I believe their death was instantaneous.”

“I hope so. Fire is such an awful way to go.”

“Have you lost someone to fire?” he asked.

“My mother, my sister and her family,” Makenna answered. “They burned alive in their home. I cannot imagine their suffering.”

“Ir abelas,” he said. “I am sorry.”

“Thank you.” She took the stack of books from him and held them to her chest. “Ir abelas…what language is that?”

“Elvhen.”

“What are we speaking now?”

“Common.”

Makenna rested her hip against the desk. “How many languages are there?”

“Many. Common is spoken by nearly everyone, but there is also the Dwarven language, Qunlat, Orlesian, Nevarran, and many more.”

“Hm. I suppose I am going to have to kiss many people,” she teased.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Well, thank you for the books, Solas.”

He inclined his head. “Of course. Should you have any questions, feel free to ask them when I return.”

“Return?”

“I will be accompanying the Herald to The Hinterlands first thing in the morning, I am unsure how long we will be gone.”

“I suppose Varric and Cassandra will be going as well.”

“Yes.”

Makenna sighed. “I suppose it’s plenty of time to finish these,” –she held up the stack— “and we’ll have plenty of things to discuss when you come back.”

“I look forward to it.”

“As do I.”

She left him in his cabin, standing over the pile of sketches she had flipped through, and crossed the snowy path to her own. One guard remained outside of her door. The other had probably run off to inform Cullen that she had slipped them once again, and she was sure the man would burst a blood vessel since he already knew she had snuck out of her cabin. Makenna gave the remaining a small nod and let herself inside.

“Slipped them again, my lady?” Mihri teased, pouring two cups of tea. One for herself and one for Makenna.

Taking tea together had become a routine of theirs over the last week. Mihri would catch Makenna up on any gossip around Haven as well as, discuss the political state of Thedas, and Makenna would tell Mihri about her world.

Makenna set the books down on the desk. “You’d think they would learn to guard more than the door,” she said, plopping down on the couch.

“Did Lady Josephine give you more books?” Mihri set Makenna’s cup and saucer on the table in front of her.

“No, Solas gave those to me to read while he’s gone.”

“The mage? He’s a strange one.”

“Why is that?” Makenna stirred honey into her tea and took a sip.

“No markings, so he isn’t Dalish, but he is certainly not a city elf.” Mihri blew away the steam curling up from her cup. “There are times where he fades into the background and you hardly know he is there, but he watches everything with those intense eyes, and then there are times where he blends in with everyone else and you question how could possibly have thought that he is any different from anyone else.”

“A man of many faces.”

“Exactly,” Mihri said. “Feels like he’d know all my secrets just from staring at me too long. I certainly wouldn’t want him to notice me.”

“I kind of like the attention,” Makenna admitted.

“From what I’ve learned about you, that doesn’t surprise me,” Mihri chuckled. “What books did you borrow?”

“Herbology and the plant life of Thedas. I’d like to know what I’m working with.” She tapped her chin. “Perhaps I should’ve asked Solas to bring me some plants from The Hinterlands if he has time.”

“The Herald often picks plenty of herbs for Adan while she is out. You should be able to get your hands on some when they return.”

“Excellent.”

Mihri cleaned up the empty teacups. “I know we usually have our talks at this time, but it’s laundry day. I’ll be able to return after dinnertime and turn down your bed.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mihri.”

“Well, I was also wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the baths—”

“There are baths? You mean I could have been taking an actual bath?”

Mihri nodded. “I realized that no one had told you about them and I doubt the guards would have let you go. I asked Sister Nightingale and she said I could bring you there, and she asked me not to tell Lady Montilyet that no one had informed you lest you accuse us of bad hospitality.”

Makenna laughed. “Poor Josephine. She truly does worry over everything.”

“Well, it is difficult to bolster the image of an upstart such as The Inquisition. Especially when many thing it’s responsible for the disaster and the breach.” Mihri picked up the tray. “I came here for better coin and steady work, but I don’t know, it feels like a worthy cause.”

Makenna nodded. “Only one way to find out, in the end.”

Mihri inclined her head. “Enjoy your reading, Makenna. I’ll see you later.”

Makenna leaned her head back on the couch as the door closed behind Mihri. She never felt this alone at home, but in Haven she was almost always alone, sitting in the choking silence. The fire popped and her eyes slid to the blazing inferno in the fireplace. A scream—guttural and raw—filled her head and she clapped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut from the onslaught of memories. Hot tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Why are you crying? It’s all your fault.

She pulled her knees to her chest, curling inward, not caring that her boots dirtied the fabric cushions of the couch. A knock at the door made her freeze. Mihri had left. Perhaps it was Raina or Varric.

“A moment please,” she cleared her throat, and jumped up from the couch. Using a washcloth and water from the pitcher, she dabbed her face. Drawing in a deep breath she bid whoever was at the door to enter.

To her surprise, Leliana walked into the cabin, eyes sweeping the place before stopping on Makenna. “I hear you slipped your guard again.”

“Did Cullen believe that you had no idea?” Makenna asked, keeping her voice level.

Leliana laughed. “Not at all.” She walked over to the fire. “In fact, I told him that I had eyes on you at all times so a guard was no longer necessary.”

“I doubt he liked that.”

“He didn’t.”

“Is that what you came to tell me?”

“Yes and no.” Leliana leaned against the fireplace. “I came to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course,” Makenna walked back and sat down on the couch where she hadn’t dirtied the cushion with her boots. “Ask away.”

Leliana sat in the chair previously occupied by Mihri. “Did you come through alone?”

“I did not.”

“How many?”

“One friend and one enemy.”

“How worried should I be for this enemy?”

“I can handle him, Leliana, if I can find him. He’s unhinged, but lucky for you, if he realizes I am here as well, then he will try to kill me. I doubt he will get in too much trouble until then,” Makenna clasped her hands in her lap. “My friend is…I do not know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“Well, if anyone else falls out of a rift, I’m sure I will hear of it,” Leliana said. “But the fact that you are even here at all is very troubling. I thought a breach of the veil and demons pouring in was the worst that could happen. But a breach into another world is quite unfathomable.”

“We are of the same mind, Leliana. The consequences of such a tear could be disastrous for both worlds. But I cannot even begin to find a way to help seal it off and return home if I am trapped in this cabin at all times.”

“You may explore Haven as much as you wish, Makenna, you are no prisoner here. But I will always have eyes on you.”

“Naturally.”

Leliana leaned forward. “I suppose I just have one question left for now.”

“What is it?”

“Who were you in this other world? What was your role?”

“Me?” Makenna pointed at herself. “No one of import, I assure you.”

Leliana smiled. “You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve lied to me.”

~

Makenna sank down into the hot water and sighed. Wet hair clung to her face and neck. Mihri had come shortly after dinner, as promised, and led Makenna a short ways past The Chantry to the small hidden bath. While not as large as the public baths at home, the bath was large enough for several people to take advantage of it at once. Mihri had led her into one of the stalls where they could scrub themselves down first with fresh water and soap. Makenna scrubbed until her skin felt brand new. The soap wasn’t great for her hair but she scrubbed her scalp at least and rinsed until no suds remained.

Mihri shared the same alcove, her eyes flitting to Makenna every so often. They moved down to the expansive tattoo of an elm that covered Makenna’s thigh. While most tattoos were intricate with clean lines, Makenna’s looked more like an old angry wound that she had picked open every time it healed, scoring it into her skin. Makenna waited for the questions, but Mihri didn’t ask.

Steam tickled her nose as it curled up from the heated waters. She spied the runes carved around the edge of the pool. For a society so afraid of magic, they certainly had very little issue utilizing it to benefit themselves. Makenna traced the etching with her finger, memorizing the shape in her mind, not unlike the runes from home but pulsating with same strange magic that roiled in the skies outside.

“Your daughter…” Mihri trailed off, looking unsure of her question for a moment. “What was her name?”

Makenna leaned her head against the stone. “Moira.”

“Beautiful name.”

“Thank you. What about your sons?”

“Alistair—I had quite a crush on the King of Fereldan back in the day—and Idris.”

“Do you not still have a crush?” Makenna teased.

Mihri laughed, quietly as not to disturb the others sitting in the pool, “While he is quite handsome, my husband,” –Mihri sighed— “well, there is no one in the world like my Lysir, and I have not cared to look at another since his death.”

“How did he die?”

Mihri sank down into the water. “He was killed. He was looking for medicine for our youngest, Idris, and the guard struck him down instead of helping. Said he was out after curfew. Causing trouble. Probably an addict. None of those things were true but it doesn’t matter to those who call us knife ears and spit at us.”

Makenna looked around, noticing that she was the only human amongst those in the baths. The rest were elven servants she had seen around Haven. “Mihri…why are elves hated so much? I don’t understand it.”

Mihri sighed. “Frankly, I do not understand it either. We are just trying to live and work and take care of our families, the same as anyone, but we are shoved into alienages and given scraps. We are expected to know our place and stay in it.”

“Elves and mages. Is there anything else?”

“Dwarves are not entirely treated kindly, although, most tend to stay to themselves. Qunari also have a bad reputation, but I have met many Tal-Vashoth who are not at all barbaric. So many people lumped into different groups and painted with the same brush—”

“And humans are at the top, holding the brush?” Makenna guessed.

“Yes. Quite unfair, isn’t it?”

“Quite unacceptable, honestly.”

“That too.” Mihri brushed hair away from her face. “Is your world not like that?”

“Well, I’m not going to pretend there aren’t divisions and cruelty. For us, we have The Fair Folk. Old. Set in their ways. View people like me as an interloper because my ancestors were human. Something changed them. They found a place that welcomed them, but not all the inhabitants were happy about it.” She shrugged. “Our world is separate from the human realm, but I have a met a few before coming here. The pig-headed lot of them.”

Mihri giggled.

“How can humans hate elves, yet they’re raising up Raina as a Herald of their holy woman?”

“I don’t know, most of it is because of Sister Nightingale and the Lady Seeker, but I fear for the Herald. Andraste died on a pyre of flames and is seen as a martyr. I am scared that they will do the same, without hesitation because they do not even see her as a person.” Mihri shook her head. “They never see us as people, and it’s the same for the Herald. Before this, she was Dalish. A savage rabbit. Now she is a figurehead. But who actually sees Raina Lavellan?”

I will.

Chapter Text

The breach cast a sickly green glow over the fresh packed snow, giving Haven a green tinge, even in the middle of the night. Makenna should be asleep. Cold bit into her thighs as she sat upon the stone steps by the gate. Raina was set to return from The Hinterlands, and Makenna found herself unable to sleep. She waited until she saw the haggard group walk through the gates with another in tow.

“You’re still awake?” Raina called to her as Makenna stood up from the steps.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She brushed the snow from her backside. “I see you brought back another stray.”

“I seem to like collecting them. This is Warden Blackwall,” Raina said, gesturing to the heavily bearded man behind her.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Lady Makenna,” he said, offering a meaty, calloused hand for her to shake.

“Oh?”

“He was keen to join after I told him what can come out of a rift.” Varric winked at her.

Makenna laughed. “Is Warden your first name?”

Blackwall’s eyebrows furrowed at her question. “Gordon is my first name. Warden is my occupation. Have you never heard of Grey Wardens?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Makenna sustained a head injury after her fall from a rift,” Raina said. “Although her claim about being from another world is compelling.”

“Another world? A strange thing to believe after a head injury.” Blackwall looked her over as if expecting her to look as out there as her claim.

“Yes, well, I’m sure stranger things have happened. Since I know nothing about Grey Wardens, perhaps you would allow me to pick your brain about them.”

Blackwall suddenly looked uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other. “Of course, Lady Makenna. I’d be happy to.”

“Just Makenna is fine, thank you.”

Raina covered a yawn with her gloved fist. “We should get some rest. I’m sure the advisors will want to speak to me and Blackwall in the morning.”

“Don’t wake me before noon,” Varric said. “I need my beauty rest.”

Makenna snorted.

Solas—who hadn’t spoken before now—gave the others a small nod and spared Makenna a glance. “Goodnight.”

“I’d like to check out Haven, and then I’ll sleep in the stable for the night,” Blackwall said, offering his own goodnight before heading back down the steps to the gate.

Makenna and Raina stood alone. “I’ll walk you to your cabin,” Makenna offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Makenna watched Blackwall’s retreating form. “If that man sleeps in the stable, he is going to smell like the wrong end of a horse in the morning.”

Raina giggled. “He kind of already does after our trip back. I’ll have to make sure someone shows him the baths.”

Makenna kicked the snow off her boots before following Raina into the cabin. A fire already roared—the servants must’ve prepared for The Herald’s return—in the fireplace, taking the chill out of the room. Raina’s cabin was a bit larger than Makenna’s, but only held one bed. Nobody expected The Herald to share. The emptiness felt lonely. There were no personal touches. Just the bare necessities.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d go to the baths now myself,” Raina grumbled, pulling out the screen. “How are you settling in?”

Makenna perched on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the furs slung over the blankets, listening to the sound of water sloshing into the porcelain bowl. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Well, you haven’t run away, so, I’m assuming you’re here to stay. Has anyone given you any issues?”

“Not at all. Everyone has been pleasant enough. Some are wary of me, for obvious reasons, but it doesn’t bother me.” Makenna looked up at the ceiling, her eyes focusing on a large knot in the wood. “What are The Hinterlands like?”

“Lots of hills. So many fucking hills,” she groaned, her hands appearing over the top of the screen. “Feel like I spent more time climbing than I did walking. We cleared out some mercenaries, assholes who moved in after people fled the fighting in the area, and helped the people at the Crossroads.”

“Now this is the mage and templar fighting, correct?”

“Yes. It’s terrible. They don’t listen to reason. Attack anyone they see. I understand the mages fear, but they don’t stop at defending themselves. Many can’t even return to their homes to claim their dead.” She sighed, water falling into the bowl as if she was wringing out cloth. “We had to clear out their camps to get them to leave. Hopefully, people will be able to go home. Maybe rebuild. But I don’t know. Many fled the area entirely.”

“War is terrible, but from what I understand, treatment of the mages started this.”

“It did.”

“You can only step on people so many times before they fight back.”

Raina stepped around the screen dressed in brown trousers and a large dark green tunic that went down to her knees. Her hair hung around her face. “That’s true. I don’t disagree with why they’re fighting, just wish it could be different.”

Makenna nodded. “Don’t we all.”

Raina sat in front of a small wooden table and grabbed a hairbrush. “I received a note from Leliana while I was there. She said you were wanting herbs, so I made sure to pick extra for you. I sent them with the scouts.”

“I received them, thank you. I’m currently drying them.” Makenna stood up from the bed and held her hand out for the brush. “Here, let me.”

Raina arched an eyebrow but handed the hairbrush to Makenna. “Nobody’s brushed my hair in a long time.”

Makenna carefully dragged the stiff bristles through Raina’s hair. “What happened to your parents?”

Raina looked down at her lap. “My clan, we trade with humans sometimes. Most clans stay away from humans, for good reason, but we have tentative connections with some hunters and traders. But sometimes, it doesn’t go well. My parents were killed. My Keeper, Deshanna, took me in and raised me as her own, and the rest of the clan helped.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What about your family?”

“No family. None that I am actually related to, at least. There are a few people that I consider family, but they are not here either.”

“It must be lonely to be here all by yourself.”

“It’s quieter,” Makenna murmured. “But I have found some enjoyable people to talk to. Just wish I could leave Haven sometimes. See what else this place has to offer. I never did travel enough back home and I’ve always regretted it.”

“Well, we are going to Val Royeaux soon. Maybe I could talk the others into letting you come along.”

Makenna set down the hairbrush and began to section Raina’s hair. “Do you think they would?”

“I’m sure I can think of a reason as to why you need to go.”

Makenna laughed. “I hope so. It sounds exciting.”

“I think you’re more excited than I am. I’m not looking forward to appealing to The Chantry, but we need people on our side.” Raina held back another yawn. “I wish I didn’t have this damn mark. Wish I didn’t have to do any of this.”

Makenna carefully braided Raina’s hair. “I don’t envy your burden, but you’re doing well from what I can see.”

“It’s a farce.”

Makenna snorted. “It usually is.”

“You sound like you know.”

“I know what it’s like to pretend to be someone you’re not,” Makenna hedged around the statement. “It takes a toll.” She secured Raina’s braid and stepped back. “There.”

Raina reached back and ran her hands over the braid. “Thank you, Makenna.”

“Not a problem, Raina. I should probably let you get some sleep. I’m sure you’ll have a long day of meetings tomorrow.”

“Make sure to rescue me for dinner at least.” Raina chuckled.

Makenna gave her a small smile. “Of course.”

“Goodnight, Makenna.”

“Goodnight, Raina.”

The door closed behind her and she tipped her head back, drawing in a lungful of cold air. If Moira had grown up, Makenna imagined she would be like Raina. Minus being an orphan. But much like Makenna, Raina had things thrown at her and she was handling them in stride. Even better than Makenna did a long time ago.

That’s dangerous thinking. She isn’t your child.

Snow crunched under her boots as she walked past the tavern and up the steps. Solas’ door opened when she reached the top and he stepped into the frame, blocking the golden light from within.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now, Solas,” she said, pausing outside of her cabin.

“I am unwinding,” he answered. “Have the books been serving you well?”

“Quite. I have been learning what I can from them. Do you need them back?”

“Not yet. I am glad they are useful to you.”

“They are, but I would like to learn more, and you seem to be the person to ask about magic and The Fade. My understanding is minimal.”

“I would be happy to tell you what I know at a more reasonable hour, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Until then, Solas.”

“Goodnight, Makenna.”

His eyes remained on her, boring into her back, as she slipped inside her cabin. Makenna closed the door to keep the cold out and kicked off her boots. Herbs were lined on the wood table by the fire, drying out. Green elfroot, red spindleweed, black blood lotus, and one stalk of a purple plant that Mihri called royal elfroot. Mihri sat inside on the couch, head tilted back over the cushion, her mouth slightly open. Makenna could wake her and send her through the cold to her own quarters, but that was cruel even for her. Instead, she grabbed a spare blanket from her bed and carefully adjusted Mihri until she was laying down and covered her with the blanket.

Makenna quickly changed into warm, grey pajamas and slid under her own covers. Her eyes closed and she dreamed of walking past the line of trees that surrounded Haven and into the unknowable.

~

Leliana was strangely agreeable to Makenna leaving Haven. Where Cullen objected on the basis that none of them could trust her, Leliana objected, stating that Makenna wouldn’t be left alone and perhaps leaving might jog her memory. Josephine remained on the fence, not finding a reason to distrust Makenna, but that didn’t mean she trusted Makenna either. Raina and Cassandra were the tie breakers, and the only reason Makenna had approval to leave was because The Seeker would be keeping a close eye on her.

Cassandra could wedge herself up Makenna’s ass for all she cared, just as long as she was allowed to leave.

With Mihri’s help, Makenna put together a pack—given to her by Leliana—filled with a change of clothes—underthings mostly—one of the books Solas gave to her for some light reading as well as a book gifted from Josephine on foraging. Makenna knew what was edible in her world, but not everything was the same here. The book was a welcome gift. She would have to think of a way to thank Josephine.

Fitting her for armor was another story. Makenna wasn’t worried about needing protection, but Raina insisted on the layer of leather to protect Makenna from wayward knives or swords. She still had the bow Varric had purchased—the dead piece of wood that worked well enough but wasn’t anything near her standard—and had been fitted for a light armor so she could move and shoot as needed. Makenna hoped no fighting occurred on their way. She didn’t want to slip up and use her magic.

They left in the early morning—before the sun rose over the horizon—horses saddled and ready to go by the time they reached the stable. Many years had passed since Makenna had the need to ride a horse. Most travel for her was instantaneous, as she never went long distances, and she took advantage of existing travel networks.

She hadn’t missed bouncing up and down in a saddle until her pelvis and thighs ached.

“You doing alright back there, Violet?” Varric called back to her as the sun rose high in the sky.

Sweat dripped from her temple and cooled in the mountain air. “I’m fine!” she shouted back, using the reins to pull the horse—A Fereldan Forder Makenna had taken to calling Rhiannon—straight, as the horse kept veering to the left.

Solas held back. “Do you need assistance?”

“I think we’re okay,” she said. “I admit, it has been a long time since I’ve ridden a horse and I don’t think Rhiannon wants to the stay on the path.”

“She’s restless,” Solas said, gently easing the reins out of Makenna’s hands. “I don’t think she has been ridden in some time. I am sure she will calm down when she works off the excess energy.”

Makenna flexed her aching fingers. “Thank you.” She looked over at the snowy mountain range they traveled along. Exhaled breaths turned into puffy white clouds. “I haven’t really seen mountains before. They are massive. Val Royeaux is on the other side?”

“Yes, but we won’t be crossing over the mountains. Too hazardous and the conditions too harsh.” He pointed to the carved path ahead of them. “We stay on this until we connect with what’s left of the Imperial Highway, and then we take a boat—”

“A boat?”

“Have you never been on a boat either?” he asked.

“I haven’t. I wasn’t much of a traveler back home.” She shook her head. “One of my regrets, I suppose. I should’ve seen more of my home. But a boat is exciting!”

Varric snorted. “You won’t think so when you’re leaning over the side.”

“You have so little faith in me, Varric. How do you know I won’t be an excellent sailor?”

“You know what, Violet, you just might be. At the very least, you could make people believe it.”

“What is your home like?” Cassandra asked, looking back at Makenna over her shoulder.

“Well, my corner of it, is…beautiful. Trees that are so large you cannot see where they end. Forests filled with glowing will-o-wisps that dart through the foliage. Endless fields of sweet-smelling flowers under purple sky and pink clouds.” Makenna fiddled with her gloves. “Then there are the darker places. Places where blood magic has spoiled the soil. Where blood wells up around your feet every time you take a step. These places are beautiful in a different way. A melancholic way, I suppose.”

“Why melancholic?” Raina asked.

“They are often battle sites. Mass graves. A place like that is never whole again, not truly.”

“Spirits tend to crowd battle sites here. Some of Victory and Command, and others of Sorrow and Despair,” Solas said. “They are drawn to places of high emotion. And oftentimes, extreme loss.”

“You name your spirits?” Makenna asked.

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “Names have power and spirits don’t share their names easily. If you find it, you can bind one to you, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It can go very, very wrong. Would be better to bind to an object, but again, can go very wrong.”

“You live in a world with magic, but we have not seen any magic from you. Do you not have any ability?” Cassandra asked.

“From what I’ve observed, the magic of this world and the magic of my world are not the same. I don’t even know if it would function the same way here.” As I have yet to try it fully. “Magic is everywhere at home. In everything. This place, I feel magic, but it’s discordant. As if it can’t reconcile itself with the world. It’s strange.”

“It is strange that you would feel magic that you don’t know,” Solas agreed, looking away to hide his eyebrows furrowing.

Apparently, it was even stranger than she imagined. Makenna made a mental note to bring it up to Solas again later. Perhaps needle him until he told her something. He seemed to be the right person to ask about magic. But he was guarded. More than most.

That means he has secrets. Not unlike you.

“When are we stopping for the night?” Varric asked. “My ass is reaching its limit.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “We stop when we reach the end of the valley. We want to reach the docks by the early afternoon tomorrow.”

Varric groaned. “Your ass must be made of steel, Seeker.”

Makenna hid her laugh in her glove as Cassandra turned her glare on Varric. Didn’t seem to bother him. He must’ve been used to it. Varric certainly enjoyed acting like a perpetual thorn in her side. Makenna wasn’t sure if Cassandra hated it as much as she said.

They rode mostly in silence. Solas helped keep Rhiannon steadily on the path for Makenna until they reached the campsite at dusk. Oranges and pinks streaked the skies as they dismounted the horses and secured them nearby. No need for tents, so they set up bedrolls around a pit Varric dug for a fire. Cassandra gathered firewood while Makenna and Raina gathered kindling. Nearly an hour later, they sat on their bedrolls in front of a crackling fire—rabbit roasting on a spit—and drank mead from skeins in silence.

“What is Val Royeaux like?” Makenna asked.

“Smellier than you might imagine,” Varric said.

She wrinkled her nose. “Why are we going here again?”

“To speak to the Chantry Mothers, as futile as it might be,” Cassandra said. “And all cities have a certain smell. Many people living on top of each other will cause that.”

“If it’s futile, why are we going?” Makenna asked.

“Because Mother Giselle thinks at least a few will listen and a few might be enough to make a difference,” Raina answered, setting her skein aside. “I hope it will be. The Inquisition won’t go far without support. Reinforcements. Connections.”

“Don’t worry too hard.” Varric reached for the spit. “I’ve seen worse odds.”

“We should settle watch.” Raina took a bite of her rabbit.

“I will take first watch,” Solas said.

Cassandra nodded. “Varric can take second, Raina, third, and I will take the last watch to make sure we leave on time.”

“I don’t get a watch?” Makenna asked, her mouth full of succulent, but slightly gamey, meat.

“You can sit up with someone if you’d like, but I’m not comfortable leaving you on watch alone,” Cassandra said.

“Well, at least you’re honest in your distrust.”

“Yeah. Trust The Seeker to never mince words,” Varric grumbled.

“How long have you two known each other?” Makenna asked.

“Since Kirkwall. She interrogated me and then dragged me here only to throw me at a demon horde—”

“I brought you to speak to the Divine, you are the one who didn’t leave,” Cassandra snapped.

“And so I was demoted to unwelcome tagalong,” Varric said.

Makenna giggled. “And yet you remained even after all that.”

“Yeah, well, the end of the world is a good enough reason to stick around. Anyone who can help stop it, help fight it, should. We’ll close the breach and then see what happens.” Varric laid back on his bedroll. “Kirkwall needs rebuilding. I’ll have to go back eventually.”

“What about you?” Cassandra asked, turning to Makenna.

“What about me?”

“Do you think you can return home? Would you want to?” she asked.

All eyes turned to Makenna and she drew in a deep breath. “If the opportunity presented itself, I suppose I would have to. I don’t belong here in the end. But I can honestly say, I don’t really know how I got here, much less how I can return home.”

“What do you remember?” Solas asked.

“Not much. Green light. Then a strange, empty place. The rift. And then landing at your feet.” Not a lie, but not the entire truth either. “I wish I had a better answer.”

Raina stifled a yawn with her hand. “Well, maybe you’ll remember more.” She stretched out onto her bedroll and rolled onto her back. Her staff lay by her side.

The others stretched out as well, leaving Makenna and Solas as the only two sitting up. She watched the fire spit flames and crack the wood. Smoke rose high into the air. Her eyes followed the plume up to the stars. At least the stars exist here too.

“I notice you did not answer Cassandra’s question.”

Makenna looked over to Solas. “What question?”

He quietly stoked the fire, careful not to disturb the others gentle snores. “About whether or not you have magical ability.”

“I didn’t? Odd.”

His eyes flicked to her. “You give answers, but you do not always address the question. I wonder if you do it on purpose.”

She hummed. “Do you think I have magical ability, Solas?”

“If you are telling the truth, it wouldn’t feel like our magic, would it?”

“Probably not.”

“Then it would be easy for you to hide.”

“Probably.”

“It would be worrying if you could do something they could not detect. For them, not so much for you, I imagine.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “As for your question, if you are from a place such as you describe, then you having magical ability is almost a given. But then that begs the question of what kind of magic?”

“What kind, indeed,” she murmured. “What kind do you think?”

“Are you looking for a genuine guess or are you going to tell me?” he asked.

“Oh, I am not admitting to anything, Solas. I just like talking to you. You have a very inquisitive mind and you’re very observant.” Makenna stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankles. She leaned back on her hands. “I’m just wondering what you think of me.”

“I see.” He stared at the fire. “I do not see you as a healer, at least, not only as a healer. I imagine your magic would be a mix of destructive and protective. Fire, possibly. Maybe something akin to storm. Or maybe something I’ve never even seen before.”

She grinned.

“You clearly do not see magic in absolutes,” he continued. “Black and white doesn’t exist for you, does it?”

“It does not.”

“Naturally, moral problems one might face might not be a problem for you if you can justify to yourself why you’re doing it.”

Makenna blinked at him, her smile dying. “Wow,” she whispered. “I see my first impression of you was correct.”

“What was that.”

She leaned close, keeping her voice low. “That you are very dangerous person to me, Solas.”

Chapter Text

The boat rocked and swayed on the waves. They had warned her of the rough seas but she did not truly understand what it meant until her legs carried her to and fro across the wooden planks, unable to stay in one spot. Varric watched her in amusement as she blew out a breath and gripped the table, lowering herself onto the bench beside him.

“Having trouble getting your sea legs, Violet?” he asked.

“Not at all, Varric, I love walking on ground that moves,” she murmured, tilting her head back, fighting the rising tide of nausea.

“Here.” Solas held out a small chipped cup of a minty smelling liquid. Naturally, he had no issues navigating the rocking floor. “It will help calm your stomach.”

She sipped the bitter liquid, pursing her lips, trying not to gag at the taste. “Are you sure this isn’t poison?” she teased, draining the cup as quickly as possible. She held the cup in her hands and closed her eyes, willing it to work faster.

He chuckled. “I’m certain poison would taste far better.”

Makenna laughed. “Probably.”

“You have never traveled by boat?” Cassandra asked.

“I’ve never really traveled at all,” Makenna answered. “There was never much need to, though the desire wasn’t lacking.”

“What stopped you?” Raina asked, looking fairly green herself.

“Responsibilities, I suppose. Never having the time.”

“What sort of responsibilities?” Cassandra pressed, not bothering to hide her attempt to gather information.

Makenna hummed and smirked. “You know…picking herbs, weeding the gardens, cleaning the kitchen—"

Cassandra huffed. “Those hardly sound like difficult tasks.”

“You did not know my mother.”

Raina laughed. “Reminds me of Keeper Deshanna.”

“I hardly think those were your own only responsibilities.” Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Makenna. “What are you hiding?”

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you Cassandra?” Makenna asked.

“That is not an answer.”

“I am not going to give you an answer you want to hear,” Makenna said. “Even if my purpose here was somehow nefarious and a threat to your Inquisition, I would never admit it to you. If I am lying about anything I’ve told you before now, I would not admit it. There is no detail about my life that you can glean that will somehow support your theory that I am an interloper intent on causing chaos.”

Varric chuckled. “Told you, Seeker.”

Cassandra grunted.

“How much longer until we reach Val Royeaux?” Makenna asked.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer,” Varric reassured.

Cassandra stood from the table. “I will speak with the captain.” She departed with a final disgruntled look thrown Makenna’s way.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like antagonizing the Seeker,” Varric said.

“I don’t like antagonizing Cassandra, but it is very easy to do so. She bludgeons me with questions and expects that I will fold and tell her what she already thinks of me. She searches for confirmation, not answers.” Makenna sighed. “Leliana is better suited to interrogation than Cassandra.”

Varric snorted. “I don’t know. The Seeker is effective in her own way.”

“Oh?” Makenna raised an eyebrow. “What way would that be, Varric?”

“It’s not like that.” He chuckled.

“Like what?” Raina asked.

“I rather think Varric likes Cassandra’s heavy hand,” Makenna said.

Raina snorted and Solas chuckled.

“She could kill me. Some days, I think she wants to,” Varric retorted.

“That is not a denial,” she teased. “Perhaps women who could kill you are your type.”

“And what’s your type, Violet?” Varric shot back.

Solas’ gaze fell on her, surprisingly interested in her answer. The flirting between them had been fun for her, but she hoped the elf wasn’t actually interested. That would complicate matters, such as her return home should she find a way. Her growing attachment to the group was bad enough. Makenna had to maintain a better distance lest she needed to betray them later on.

“Me? Oh, I have terrible taste in partners,” she answered.

“Do you have anyone back home?” Raina asked.

“Technically, I am…married,” she admitted, drumming her fingers on the wooden table.

All eyes were on her.

“Do you miss them?” Raina asked, her eyes wide and innocent, and for some reason that made anger flare in Makenna’s chest.

“No,” Makenna’s cold tone made Raina lean away from her.

Makenna sighed. Raina was still a child and Makenna couldn’t fault her for thinking that marriage automatically equaled a storybook kind of love. But unless she wanted to end up like Makenna, she would need to shed that idealistic vision.

“I do not miss him,” —Makenna softened her tone, her fingers brushing the edge of the scar that had been carved into her cheek—“and I will be…relieved when our arrangement is dissolved.”

“Oh.” Raina mouth curved down. “How do you dissolve a marriage where you come from?”

“Death.”

Raina sucked in a breath. “You intend to kill him.”

“Quite.”

“And how do you intend to do that if you are stuck here?” Cassandra asked from behind Makenna.

Makenna looked over her shoulder. “Very easily since he is also in Thedas.”

“Then you have been lying, and you are not from another world,” Cassandra spat.

“Or,” Makenna drew out the word. “I was hunting him down, but he somehow opened a rift between our world and yours and we were both pulled through. Though I imagine he was spat out somewhere else or you would have brought him to Haven as well.”

“But you do not know where he is?” Cassandra demanded.

“You may not trust me Cassandra, but you can trust that I don’t like not knowing where he is. Kiernan is nothing if not an evasive little rat.” Makenna huffed. “He came here for a reason that I don’t know yet, but I’m sure when he finds that reason he will seek me out if I have not already found him. No matter how it comes about, I will kill him.”

~

Solid ground underfoot quelled her nausea. Makenna tipped her head back and stared up at the tall white walls of the city. Water lapped at the stone on which the city was built. Gilded gates sat open, welcoming visitors, but Makenna didn’t imagine the Inquisition would be receiving a warm welcome. She hoped the bow on her back would remain untouched for the duration of their stay.

“I do not believe you meant to tell us about your husband,” Solas murmured while standing beside her. He tilted his eyes up to the spire that rose from the city.

“I did not.”

“And yet there was relief in telling us.”

“Just because secrets are necessary does not mean they aren’t burdens,” she said.

He dropped his gaze. “Indeed.”

“So,” —she drew out the word—“what is your type, Solas?”

“Pardon?”

“Varric likes women who could kill him. I have terrible taste in partners. But I am curious what attracts you.”

“I have not thought of such things in…a long time,” he admitted. “I will have to think on it.”

“Well, if you must think on it then I truly cannot await your answer,” she teased.

“Let us meet with the Mothers so that we may return to Haven,” Cassandra said, Raina and Varric trailing behind her. “I do not wish to linger in Val Royeaux longer than we have to.”

“Yes, the guards might get stabby,” Varric muttered.

Raina laughed, but the shaky sound belied her nervousness. Her eyes darted around as Cassandra took the lead, guiding them from the docks to the entrance.

“The city still mourns.” Cassandra spoke to Raina.

A young man and woman walked through the gates. The man kept on, his eyes sweeping over them briefly before he kept on his way. The woman was wearing a floor-length dress and a white mask. She gasped and stumbled backwards as she took in the small group. Makenna arched her brow at the woman.

“Just a guess Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.” Varric smirked.

“Your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric.” Cassandra shot back, the disgust dripping from her tone.

They walked through the gates, the metal vibrating with cold as if they wanted to close and seal out the party, but they allowed passage nonetheless. The pathway was lined with stone statues, each bearing a small gold placard. Makenna leaned over to read one as a scout ran up to the Herald and addressed her before getting down on one knee.

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

 “The Chantry mothers await you, but…so do a great many Templars.”

 “There are Templars here?” Cassandra stepped forward.

“People seem to the 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.”

“Only one thing to do then.” Cassandra nodded to Raina and proceeded to follow the scout.

“Sounds like a warm welcome.” Makenna murmured to Varric.

“The warmest. We can only hope they don’t attempt to smite our Herald in the middle of square.”

“Smite?” Makenna turned to look at him.

“It’s a power the Templars have. When they smite a mage it drains their mana and prevents them from retaliating with magical attacks.” Solas answered before Varric could, his voice grim.

Makenna grimaced, “They wouldn’t do that without evidence would they?”

“We can only hope.” Solas shook his head.

Makenna balled her hands into fists. Could she in good conscience allow something like that to happen? Could she just stand back and continue pretending in order to protect herself? Or would she protect the person that has been the kindest to her? Solas was right. They could only hope no one would attempt something such as a smite. She still wasn’t ready to reveal her power. In truth it was mostly to protect herself. She didn’t know how they would react. How similar would her power be to others? How different? There were still so many questions left to answer.

They entered the market square. Makenna wanted to explore, see everything there was to see but, she was too focused on the gathering of people to their right. A few men and women were standing on a platform addressing a crowd of onlookers. They were all wearing white tunics that were trimmed with red and gold and ridiculous looking red hats that covered their hair. Makenna wanted to scoff at their fashion but, she hardly thought some of her companions would find it appropriate in the given situation. As they neared the platform she could hear what the woman was saying.

 “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” She raised her arms, “Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve 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! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!”

Their group stiffened as the woman sneered the word elf. Makenna took an involuntary step forward but, Solas’ hand on her arm made her pause.

Raina stepped forward, squaring her shoulders, “We have but one enemy. The breach still exists and we have not yet found who killed the Divine. We cannot succeed if we are divided.”

 “It’s true! The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!” Cassandra spoke up from beside her.

The chantry sister smirked and pointed to the group, of what Makenna could only assume were the Templars, as they neared the platform. “It is already too late.”

 “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more!” She stepped back as the Templars climbed onto the platform.

The Templars were led by a solitary man in front of them. His skin was pallid and his hair was slicked back. He reminded Makenna of a rat, not the furry kind but, the kind that was sneaky and untrustworthy. Much like Kiernan.

There was something off about him. Makenna narrowed her eye as she stared at the man. She couldn’t tell what it was but, there was something very, very wrong. His aura was twisted and mangled, the darkness of him was nearly overwhelming. He walked past the Chantry mother as if she didn’t exist and another Templar walked up behind her and punched her in the back of the head as if it were nothing more than a pleasant greeting. The woman cried out and fell to her knees. The crowd gasped, their hands flitting to their mouths at the display of violence. Makenna looked to Cassandra to determine if this was normal but, the Seeker was shocked as well. The Templar that had been present on the platform the entire time went to assist her but, he was stopped by the man who was clearly in control.

 “Still yourself, she is beneath us.” He told the Templar.

“How dare you?!” Raina stepped towards the platform ignoring the other Templars as they attempted to cut her off.

“I dare much.” The man sneered at her before leaving the platform, his soldiers falling in line behind him.

Cassandra stepped to the side determined to follow the man and speak to him, “Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak to-“

“You will not address me.” He interrupted her, not even stopping to address her.

 “Lord Seeker?” Cassandra kept moving, trying to speak with him, her confusion was palpable.

 “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed.” He finally paused, “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages. You are the one who have failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!” He pointed to their group.

Raina moved to comfort Cassandra, placing her hand on the Seeker’s arm as the Seeker flinched back. His aura spiked uncontrollably as he spoke. Makenna could see the darkness oozing from him, twisting inside of him as if he were nothing more than a vessel for the rot that lay within.

“Lord Seeker, are you sure about leaving?”

“Val Royeaux is unworthy. Filled with heretics and whimpering sisters. I will lead us to greatness. We will finally have the attention we deserve.” He snarled at the Templar.

None moved to stop them as the Templars abandoned the city of Val Royeaux. People darted out of the Lord Seeker’s way, not wanting to be on the wrong end of his foul disposition. Makenna could do little more than watch them leave, the one Templar who had tried to stand up for the actions undertaken by the another refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. At least one had qualms with the Lord Seeker’s decision, but one wasn’t enough to place hope on the Templar’s help with closing the breach.

“What do we do now Cassandra? It feels as if we wasted a trip here.” Raina asked, sounding tired.

But Cassandra seemed at a loss for words. The Lord Seeker’s quick dismissal of the Inquisition and exodus from Val Royeaux had been quite the shock. Raina sighed, looking around until her gaze landed on the Chantry Mother, still kneeling on the dais with her head cradled in her hands.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured.

Cassandra followed Raina, at least clearing her head enough to assist in speaking to the woman. Makenna hung back with Solas and Varric.

“There is something very wrong with the Lord Seeker,” she murmured, keeping her voice low.

Most of the crowd had dispersed, but Makenna knew that didn’t mean no one was listening.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen Seeker look lost before,” Varric said. “I’m guessing that’s not how the Lord Seeker normally conducts business.”

“What did you notice?” Solas asked.

Makenna pursed her lips. She couldn’t answer honestly without revealing what her eye was capable of, but neither did she want to lie. “Something in the eyes. He just seemed…wrong somehow,” she said.

He hummed.

Cassandra and Raina walked back over to them. Raina didn’t look satisfied with whatever conversation had transpired between her and the Mother.

“I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere here. Might as well return to Haven—“

An arrow whizzed past and landed at Raina’s feet. Cassandra already had her sword drawn and she was looking around the square. Makenna looked up and saw a flash of blonde hair on the rooftops. She bent down and picked up the arrow noticing a letter attached to it. She handed the letter to Varric.

“People say you’re special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and ‘round the café, and maybe you’ll meet him first. Bring Swords. Signed the Friends of Red Jenny.” Varric read out loud, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

He held out the letter to Cassandra and she snatched it from his hand to read it herself. She let out a sound of disgust.

“It could be a trap.” She handed the letter to Raina.

“Or it could be nothing.” Solas muttered.

“Either way it’s worth investigating.” Makenna grinned at Raina.

“I suppose we’re staying a little longer then,” Raina said, reading over the letter again. “Should we split up.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword. “A terrible idea, Herald.”

“Why? You and I can search the docks, Solas and Makenna can look around the cafe, and Varric can check the market,” Raina suggested.

“Fine with me,” Varric said. “Faster that way.”

Makenna nodded her agreement. She wanted to see at least some of the city before they left. Even if it was only the cafe. Cassandra grunted her reluctant agreement and the group split up. Makenna followed Solas around the square and down the stone street. Each street was sectioned off by a gate.

“What did you see? Truly?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The Lord Seeker. You hedged your answer. I am curious what the truth is.”

She tutted. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Not often.”

“My eye, it sometimes…reveals things to me. Not all the time and I must often focus for it to work, but it looks past physical reality to gaze deeper,” she answered, giving a great deal of truth, but naturally, not the whole truth.

“Fascinating.” He looked at her eye. “And this eye was a gift.”

“Yes.”

“From whom?”

“Ah, no one you would know. Obviously.” She laughed. “But to answer your question, I saw something in The Lord Seeker that is not at all human. A darkness. Corruption. I am unsure what it might be in this world, but I suppose in mine, I would say a dark spirit.”

“A demon perhaps,” he muttered more to himself than to her.

“What is the difference between a demon and a spirit?” she asked.

“A demon is a spirit twisted from its purpose.”

“Spirits have purpose?”

He nodded. “Compassion. Command. Faith. Wisdom. There are many. Some wish to leave the Fade and join this realm, but close contact with others can twist the spirits into demons.”

“Fascinating,” she echoed him. “Is there no way to coexist?”

He paused, looking genuinely surprised by the question. “With the state of Thedas now, no. There is no way to prevent spirits from becoming demons, but there are a few who have founds ways to befriend and bind spirits to their purpose.”

“And that works? Keeps them from becoming demons?”

“Not always, but there have been some successes amongst failures.”

“What kind of demon could parade around as The Lord Seeker?” she asked.

Solas frowned. “None should be able to possess a Seeker from what I understand, but I could be wrong. If it is a double and not possession, then the demon either has access to The Lord Seeker or he is dead.”

“So, captured or dead.”

“That is one theory.”

Makenna whistled under her breath. “Not very promising.”

“No, it is not.”

They found the cafe, filled with patrons drinking and eating. A bard sang on a small stage set up near a creature head mounted on the wall. No one seemed bothered by the head looming over them. But Makenna wrinkled her nose. Her eyes scanned the tables, searching for something red.

“Under the table, near the bard,” Solas murmured.

“I’ll get it,” she said.

She slipped between the tables, ignoring the stormy eyes boring holes into her back. Barely anyone noticed as she swiped the note from the ground and walked out the other side of the cafe. Solas waited for her to circle back.

“What does it say?” he asked as she opened it.

“It’s some sort of report,” she flipped it over, “‘Thank you friends for helping good lady Keris. Saw those who asked about Herald enter third passage. Could not see them exit.’ I’m guessing it is a clue of some sort.” She handed him the paper.

“It would seem so. We should meet with the others.”

They retraced their steps, but slower as Makenna took the time to look around the area. Open doors revealed shops of all kinds. Armor. Weapons. Furniture. Her steps slowed even more as she spied a bakery with a display case full of breads and cakes and little tarts. Sweets were a guilty pleasure that she indulged often.

“Shame I don’t have any money,” she grumbled, wondering how easy it might be steal some sweets.

“Did Cassandra not give you a purse?” he asked.

“A purse?”

“You are technically working for the Inquisition now. You will earn a wage.”

“So I will be getting paid?” She snorted.

“Indeed.” He paused as she giggled under her breath, “Is there something funny?”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t dealt with anything as common as coin in quite some time.”

“Then what did you use for currency?”

“Secrets, favors, information. That sort of thing.” She noticed as he paused, his features shifting from amusement to deep in thought.

“Did I say something wrong?” She murmured.

He looked up at her, his eyes quizzical, “Not at all. I have just seen courts, ancient courts, that worked in the same fashion. It is interesting how similar those courts are.”

“You have seen courts?”

“My travels in the Fade have taken me many places.”

“Not quite an answer.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Either way, Cassandra must have forgotten.” Makenna sighed. “Everything looks so good. What would you get?”

“Nothing. They do not sell to elves.”

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, but the taste for sweets soured in her mouth. Now she not only wanted to steal from them but she wanted to set a little fire or two.

“Think nothing of it, Makenna,” he said.

She held out her hand. “Since I am expecting a wage, might I borrow coin, Solas?”

He raised an eyebrow and she expected him to decline, but to her surprise he produced a small satchel cinched shut with thread and placed it in her waiting hand. “Try not to overdo, Makenna.”

“I promise nothing,” she teased.

Her boots thudded against the floor. A thin-faced woman with beady blue eyes and a button nose looked up as Makenna neared the display case. Blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun on the top of her head. A mask covered her cheekbones and forehead.

“I don’t sell to rabbits,” the woman sneered in her thick accent, eyes shifting past Makenna to focus on Solas.

“Well, as you can see, I am no rabbit—"

“I saw him give you coin. I will not take it.”

Makenna smiled and leaned close. “You are going to take it or I am going to ram it down your throat,” she said, her voice sicky sweet, her fingers tracing a sigil on the glass of the display case. She stared into the woman’s eyes and visualized fingers pushing against the membrane. Nails sinking through the thin wall and into the yolk. Moving deeper and deeper. Forcing her way into the nebulous matter of the mind. Fear sprouted in the grey and Makenna tightened her grip, a choked gasp tearing from the woman’s throat.

The woman shook, fingers twitching as if she could somehow stop Makenna from tunnelling her way inside her mind. A snap resounded in Makenna’s ears. The woman’s face went slack.

“What can I get for you?” she whispered, voice trembling.

Makenna grinned. “My companions and I are visiting Val Royeaux and I want to taste what this city has to offer before I leave.”

“Yes…that’s nice…”

“Isn’t it?” Makenna asked, thankful Solas was out of earshot. “I would like to try an assortment of your goods. Whatever you think is best.”

“The cakes,” the woman said. “The cakes are very popular. Which flavors—“

“One of each,” Makenna answered. “Oh, and I would love a few of the cheese pastries and two loaves of bread as well.”

“Of course.”

The woman moved stiffly, placing the pastries in a box, carefully arranging them so they wouldn’t squish together. Tears shimmered in the corners of her eyes. Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to speak or scream, but Makenna wouldn’t allow it. The woman set the box down on the counter and Makenna grabbed a few coins—much less than what the goods cost but more than what they were worth—and slid them across the counter.

“That lovely sigil I traced on your display case will ignite if you ever so much as utter the words rabbit or knife-ear,” Makenna whispered. “And I would suggest adjusting your attitude about elves or I just might have to return and I don’t think you would want that would you?”

“N-no—"

“I didn’t think so.” Makenna grabbed the box by the handles. “Have a lovely day.”

The woman whimpered as Makenna exited. She placed the coin purse bag in Solas’ hand and help up the box triumphantly.

“Quite a deal,” he observed, leading her back down to the streets to the designating meeting place in the square.

“Seems she was in a generous mood.”

“I do not know what you did, Makenna, but you do not have to trouble yourself on my behalf,” he murmured. “I am no stranger to titles I do not wish for, and harsh words flung my way. It is the way of things.”

“It is wrong,” she said.

“Perhaps. But we cannot change it.”

“No,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to go along with it.”

He opened his mouth to say something but Raina called her name and Makenna waved. The other three had already met up, holding their red notes, and Solas held up theirs.

“Wasn’t too difficult,” Raina said, her eyes drifting to the box in Makenna’s hand. “What is that?”

“A treat. We stopped by a bakery on the way back,” Makenna answered. “Got something for everyone.”

“Yes,” Raina hissed. “I’m so tired of dried meat and berries.”

“You and me both,” Varric said, eyeing the box.

Makenna pointed at a thick piece of cardstock in Raina’s hand that hadn’t been there before. “What’s that?”

“An invitation to a party.”

Makenna perked up. “Oh?”

“Notes first,” Cassandra said, focusing them back on their original task.

Raina collected the notes and read over them. “A time, a date, and a place,” she said.

“A trap more than likely,” Cassandra said.

“Or a possible ally trying to help,” Varric said. “Suppose we won’t know unless we accept help from these Friends of Red Jenny.”

“The date is tomorrow night.” Raina frowned down at the note. “And the invitation is for the evening after.”

Cassandra sighed wearily. “I suppose we will need to find lodgings.”

Chapter Text

They ended up on the outskirts of the city. The Inquisition didn’t pay much and the dingy lodgings they found would have to do. The owners—a husband and wife in their middle age—were not thrilled with their new customers, but didn’t seem the type to turn down coin when offered. Makenna had to bite her tongue when the husband sneered at Raina and Solas, her shaking hands curling into a fist. Never before had she wished to use her magic so strongly. She’d burn the inn down, perhaps with the couple still inside, and leave the smoking carcass of the building behind.

If she used her magic, she could get them all into a much nicer place. Though no guarantee that they would be kinder to her Elven companions.

Cassandra paid for two rooms, one for Solas and Varric to share, and the other for Cassandra, Makenna, and Raina. Each room had two small beds covered in a thin blanket, a wash bucket for cleaning bodies and clothes, Makenna guessed, and a small dresser that Makenna was absolutely not putting any of her things in.

The owners included dinner, an abysmal affair of thin soup and stale bread, but Makenna’s cakes livened up the meal. Varric procured an amber liquor that he refused to disclose when he had found/purchased such a thing and Cassandra immediately accused him of stealing it.

“Please, Seeker, if I was going to steal whiskey, I’d steal a good one,” he scoffed.

The whiskey seared her throat all the way down to her stomach and Makenna sucked in a breath. “Goddess, Varric, where did you find something so awful?”

“I made the mistake of buying it.”

Raina winced. “And I thought my attempts at homemade mead were bad.”

Makenna snorted. “That terrible, were they?”

“The bottle exploded right through the floor of the aravel and drenched the wood with honey. Between the bugs and the repairs, Keeper Deshanna was very displeased.”

“You are supposed to let the yeast breath,” Makenna laughed.

“Apparently so.”

“What about you, Violet?” Varric asked. “Any disastrous attempts at making drink?”

Despite the awful taste, Makenna took another sip of the whiskey, the fuzzy feeling permeating her brain overriding her desire to spit the liquid out the moment it touched her tongue. “Not alcohol but yes. I once tried to make a healing tonic, but I misread the recipe.”

“What happened?” Cassandra asked.

“It grew hair, and then legs.”

Even Solas chuckled, though with an edge of disbelief and horror at the thought of hair having legs. Makenna had not laughed at the time as she had watched in mute horror as hair grew from the burbling green liquid, twining around the glass, and shattering it. The clump of hair had rested onto the counter, tricking Makenna into thinking it dead until legs sprang from the presumed torso and skittered away.

“I spent months trying to get it out of the walls,” she said, shuddering. “And I swear it used to watch me sleep.”

“Well,” —Varric tossed back the rest of his whiskey—“that sounds absolutely terrifying. Remind me to never drink anything you give me.”

Makenna laughed at that. “Thankfully, I gave up trying to make potions and tonics. I do not have a knack for them. Not like my mother and sister.”

“You look sad when you mention them,” Raina said.

“Do I?”

“Do you not like talking about them?” Raina asked.

Makenna shrugged. “What is it you want to know?”

“You said they were healers? Is that all?” Cassandra was the one to ask, never passing up a chance to grill Makenna for more information.

Makenna leaned back in her chair, wood creaking under her, and sighed. “My mother was a priestess of our village, she was a leader, and my sister was next in line. Though we also had a council of Elders, my mother was the voice of the people and the bearer of their will, she was the last voice to speak and often the only one people listened to.”

“Then what was the point of a council?” Solas asked.

Makenna smirked. “I often asked myself the same thing, but the ways in which the council lacked were entirely their own fault. They thought because they were older and had lived longer, that their voices should carry the most weight, but my mother listened to everyone, and the respect she garnered was well deserved.”

“You do not speak about her intimately,” Cassandra said. “Were you not close?”

“We were until we weren’t.”

The soft furrow of Cassandra’s brow indicated that she understood exactly what Makenna was saying, and that she had gone through it herself.

Makenna let out a breath. “I reached an age where suddenly everything I did was wrong and I never made the correct choice.” She shrugged. “I suppose that is often the way of mothers and daughters, especially when they are more alike than they desire.”

“What about your sister?” Raina pressed.

“We were close. Until she flourished and I did not. Once she started her training to take over for my mother, a crack grew into a chasm, and when I left home, we had stopped speaking altogether.” She sighed. “We both married. She had children. I would’ve liked to be a good aunt, but never seemed to have time to construct a bridge between us.”

“They must miss you,” Raina whispered.

“They are dead.”

Raina pressed her lips into a tight line, eyes growing glassy, and Makenna prayed the woman would not cry. Goddess knows, Makenna had shed tears many times, mixing with the ash that had settled on her cheeks, streaking them black. She remembered how the glowing heat of smoldering wood had threatened to bubble her skin, but she had dug through the debris with desperation hoping to find anyone alive and the wail that had burst from her lips when she found nothing but blackened corpses.

“How did it happen?” Cassandra was the one to ask, much to no one’s surprise.

“Seeker,” Varric hissed under his breath.

Makenna snorted and tossed back the rest of her drink. “It’s fine, Varric. Won’t be the last time I’m asked, I’m sure.” She set the glass down on the table with a clunk. “A fire. The village was set ablaze and none survived.”

Cassandra gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”

Many would. Makenna had made many enemies, and lucky for her, the particular enemy that had murdered her family had been clumsy. Everyone’s magic left a unique signature and she knew his well enough from the times he had tried to kill her. Every council member still loyal to Badb had tried their hand at killing Makenna, but only he had stooped so low as to kill Makenna’s family and destroy the place she once called home.

But how to say she had created copies of his family—sending the reals ones far away with enough to live quietly—and pretended to submit them to the same death. Makenna couldn’t say how much she had relished the way he wept at her feet as he begged for her mercy. Begged for her to bring his family back to him. And how she had denied him. He had stood on his own funeral pyre, awaiting his death, her name a curse on his lips while he burned.

She wished she could say it made her feel better. That it smoothed the edges of her grief. But she grew sharper. Harder. Angrier.

“I never found out,” she lied instead.

Solas’ sharp-eyes landed on her, and she had a feeling he knew that she wasn’t being honest. Yes. He was definitely dangerous to her. The quiet ones usually were.

What was left to say after a dreary conversation? They cleaned up the leftover baked goods, that she left with Solas so that he might enjoy the little cakes he pretended he barely notice, and retreated to their rooms. Cassandra stood behind a screen, washing herself with a bucket and the rag while Makenna braided Raina’s hair for bed.

“You’re very good at this,” Raina murmured.

“I braided my sister’s hair a lot.”

“Do you miss her?”

“All the time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You remind me of her,” Makenna whispered, the drink having loosened her tongue far more than she would have liked, but she couldn’t take the words back. “When I first saw you, it startled me how much you looked like her.”

“So, that was the look on your face,” Raina murmured. “I thought perhaps you had a problem with elves, until you kissed Solas.”

Makenna secured Raina’s hair with a cord and stepped back. “A strange day for all.”

“He stares at your mouth sometimes,” —Raina turned to look at the braid in the dusty mirror—“when you’re speaking or when you’re thinking and you do that thing with your lips.”

Makenna raised an eyebrow and sat down on the edge of the bed. “That thing with my lips?”

“You know, that thing where you rub them together as if you’ve just put on stain on your lips and you sometimes dig your teeth into your bottom lip,” Raina stammered out, growing redder with each word.

“I didn’t realize my lips were so fascinating.”

“Well, I—“

Cassandra chose that moment to step out from behind the screen, her sleep clothes softer than her armor, but still suitable should she need to throw her armor over it. Red colored the tips of her ears, a sure sign that she had heard every word. Was this secondhand embarrassment?

“Do you also think of my mouth, Cassandra?” Makenna asked with a teasing edge.

“I do not,” Cassandra replied, but her eyes did stray to Makenna’s lips then. “But, if I were so inclined, I suppose I would find them agreeable.”

Makenna fluttered her eyelashes. “Only agreeable?”

Raina covered her face with her hand. “Fen’harel, take me or at least grant me the wherewithal to hold my tongue.”

Makenna stifled her rather girlish giggle into her fist, feeling a way she hadn’t felt in many years. “I promise to only tease you about this when it is most inconvenient.”

“What if I begged for mercy?”

“Well…” Makenna trailed off, twisting her lips thoughtfully and yes, Raina did look. “I do like it when someone begs.”

“You’re terrible.”

“You have no idea, Herald.”

“We should get some sleep,” Cassandra interjected, her lobes now matching the tips of her ears. “We do not know what tomorrow will bring. We must be rested and prepared.”

Makenna heaved a sigh as if she were extremely put out that the Seeker would spoil her fun, but she had to admit the day’s events and journey had worn her down and sleep in an actual bed—no matter how thin the mattress—was welcome.

“Very well, I’ll wash up then,” Makenna said, grabbing her pack and disappearing behind the screen while Cassandra and Raina settled into beds.

She dragged the cold washcloth across her skin, scrubbing off the dirt and grime as best she could, and slipped into soft sleep clothes. When she emerged, she half-expected to find Cassandra and Raina sharing a bed, leaving Makenna to sleep alone in the other, but Raina was in her own bed and she patted the empty space beside her. Cassandra was already asleep in the other.

The beds were too small and Makenna found herself lying on her side and squished against Raina but she couldn’t find it in herself to complain. Raina was warm and somehow fit against Makenna quite well. Makenna was more used to this than she was sleeping alone. In fact, it reminded her of the times she often had to share a bed with her sister growing up whenever they had company in the house and then the times Makenna shared her bed with Donnchad or Nessa at the court.

The moment her thoughts turned to Donnchad, sleep receded into the back of her mind. While Raina slumbered beside her, Makenna found herself now unable to sleep no matter how still she laid and how she squeezed her eyes shut.

Donnchad was her friend. While their relationship was somewhat tumultuous now, she didn’t like not knowing where he was or if he was even alive. The rift had spit her out in The Hinterlands but where had Donnchad ended up? Had he made it out? Did the demons tear him apart? But she didn’t feel as if he was dead. If she closed her eyes and focused hard enough, she could swear she felt the faint threads that tied them together, but she didn’t know where they ended.

Makenna slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Raina, and pulled on her coat and boots. She quickly traced a silencing sigil onto the wood of the door to keep it from creaking as she snuck out of the room and into the dark hallway. The floors were trickier. Years of expanding and contracting had left gaps between some boards, others bowed up from the frame, and even some had large cracks through them. Each wayward squeak made her wince but none came out of the rooms to investigate.

Muggy air was damp and heavy against her skin. Barely a breeze moved through the tightly clustered buildings, each looking more shabby than the next. The alleys held huddled shapes that she imagined were residents who had no particular place to lay their head. Sharp eyes looked to her, perhaps expecting to find someone else patrolling the streets this late at night, and watched her warily. But she kept her distance. If she had something to give she might’ve approached, but she had nothing here. Nothing they could feasibly use.

She passed a dark alley, pausing when she heard the soft sound of crying.

She shouldn't interfere. Shouldn’t draw attention to herself. But the sound reminded her of a child crying, and Makenna always had a soft spot for children.

Mottled brick opened into a stone courtyard, though most of the stones were crumbling from invasive weeds that twined through the cracks. A large tree sat in the center. Bare branches reached like twisted fingers and scraped the sides of clustered domiciles. The trunk was covered in black ash as if someone had set fire to the tree and while it didn’t burn down, Makenna could find no spark of life within the tree.

A child knelt in front of the tree. Thick tears rolled down their cheeks as they clutched something to their chest. As Makenna grew closer she noticed the sharp angle of their ears. An Elven child then.

Makenna’s boot resounded on stone and the child turned with a gasp. They scrambled away from her, not once letting go of what they held, and whimpered in a way that made her angry at whatever had happened to them to make them fearful of a stranger.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Makenna said, keeping her voice low and soft as she slowly crouched down. “I merely could not sleep and I heard you crying.”

The child didn’t answer. Makenna took a moment to look at them. Their hair was cut close to their scalp. A thin scar bisected their skull, right down the middle. She wondered what would have caused such a scar. Black pupils were ringed with blue.

Makenna cupped her hands in front of her chest. “What are you holding?” she asked, pantomiming opening her hands.

The child’s bottom lip trembled, their eyes not leaving Makenna. Seconds stretched past before the child gently opened their hands and showed Makenna the dying flower squished between their palms.

Makenna had a black thumb. Her mother had even banned her from doing anything but picking weeds in the gardens. While she couldn’t grow anything worth a damn—creating life was not her gift—she was a goddess of shadows and secrets and death. A revived flower would not last forever, but it would make a crying child happy for a brief moment, and Makenna was more than happy to oblige.

“I can fix that,” she murmured, holding out her hands and waiting patiently.

Slowly, the child moved closer to Makenna, but looked as if they might dart away the moment Makenna made a wrong move. Makenna didn’t. She waited until the child pressed her trembling hands into Makenna’s.

“It will not last forever,” -she gently warned while closing her hands over the child’s—“but I will bring it back.”

Death was not as finite as many thought. In her hands, it was malleable like clay. Makenna could visit death upon whoever she wished, whether temporary or permanent, and take it away from others. Though she always had to maintain a delicate balance or things could quickly fall into a chaos. A small flower would not disrupt the balance.

A tiny thread of life quivered within the wilted stem. Makenna pulled at the thread, stretching it as far as it might go. She opened her hands so the child might watch as grey petals bloomed to life and unfurled in their palms. The stem was taut and verdant once more. A spark lit in the child’s eyes and Makenna couldn’t help her soft smile.

A door slammed against brick. Footsteps thundered across stone. Bony fingers gripped the child’s shoulders and pulled them away from Makenna. Two elves—adolescents themselves—glared down at Makenna with equal parts anger and fear. Though the child turned and held the flower out to them, they couldn’t tear their eyes from Makenna.

“You are not welcome here, shem,” one spat. Dark circles weighed down eyes that had seen far too much for such a young age. Long ash blond hair was twisted back into thick braids and secured behind their head with a leather cord. Makenna noticed a glint of metal in their hand.

“Please leave,” the other pleaded, voice softer but still filled with venom.

“Apologies,” Makenna murmured, slowly standing and rubbing her palms on her coat. “I will leave as peacefully as I came.”

They needn’t answer or threaten her any further. Makenna did not find it agreeable to terrorize those who didn’t deserve it, and this life was harsh enough to the Elves, and she knew she had only barely seen the surface of it. She gave the Elves her back, a knife buried in it would hurt well enough, but it wouldn’t kill her.

They didn’t strike.

As Makenna slipped back down the alley in which she entered, she noticed eyes that glowed in the dark, staring at her from nearly every window and watching her depart.

The return trip to the lodge was far less eventful. Makenna walked back inside and back up the stairs. The door next to her room was open and Solas leaned against the door frame.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, pausing in front of the door to her room.

“Where did you go?”

“I went for a walk.”

“That is all?”

“Perhaps I also caused profound amounts of trouble that the Inquisition will have to clean up and make Cassandra very cross with me.”

“Perhaps.”

Makenna hesitated, letting her joking demeanor slip. “I found myself in a rather…different place. Maybe you could shed some light for me?”

“I may.”

“A shabby looking district with a large tree in the center, and I believe—though I did not see enough to know for sure—I believe it a home for Elves.”

Solas nodded. “I believe you found the alienage.”

“Alienage?”

“Common in cities. Often the only place city elves are allowed to live other than servant’s quarters,” Solas answered.

“Oh.”

He tilted his head, eyes not leaving her face so he might gauge her reaction. “You find this information upsetting?”

“Quite.”

“It is the way of things.”

“That doesn’t make them right, Solas.”

“True enough.”

“Have they ever tried to fight back?”

“Yes.”

“And it never ends well?”

“I believe a recent attempt not far from here ended with the alienage being burned to the ground. Very few made it out alive. And even fewer made it past armed city guards.”

Makenna’s hands clenched into fists. “I see.”

“It is best to leave it alone, Makenna,” Solas murmured. “Attempting to help may make things worse for them no matter how noble one’s intentions might be.”

An excellent point though she hated hearing it. And she shouldn’t interfere. Shouldn’t start something she couldn’t see through to it’s end. Makenna had enough on her plate and didn’t need to add anymore.

“I understand,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

Solas felt at home in the Fade. Dreams were solace, a comfort from a world that was often too sharp for him. His travels had opened many corners of the Fade and anything new was immediately fascinating. Such as the overgrowth of thorny vines that covered a wooden door stained black with ash. Black specks clung to his fingers as he brushed them over the wood. He rubbed them between his fingers.

A child’s giggle echoed behind him.

He turned. A garden of labyrinthine proportions rose up around him. Sweet-smelling flowers—violets—opened their petals to him as he turned in a slow circle. A flash of copper disappeared around a wall of green vines and another giggle echoed back at him.

Solas followed. How could he not?

Roots slithered across the green, stopping short of wrapping around his ankles and tripping him. Whispers followed him in the language he had heard from Makenna’s mouth but he couldn’t understand it, even here. The child darted ahead of him, only pausing long enough to give him time to catch up, and ran through an archway of crumbling stone held together by vines.

Solas stepped over the threshold. Another door waited in the middle of a courtyard. Purple blooms sprouted under his feet, he crushed them under his heels, and the heady scent made his head swim. He touched the crescent shape burned into the wood.

“You shouldn’t open that,” a soft voice came from behind.

The child, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, stood behind him. Copper ringlets surrounded her face. Her emerald eyes were so very familiar to him. She clutched a bunch of the purple flowers in her hands, the crushed petals tinging her fingers black.

Solas crouched down. “Why not, da’len?”

“She won’t like it.”

Solas didn’t have the time to ask who “she” was. The ground trembled under his feet. Solas looked up at the wolf that towered over him. Mismatched eyes glared down at him. He barely had her name on his lips before she bared her bloody teeth at him. She was angry. He couldn’t blame her.

He had clearly wandered into a place she didn’t want him to see.

The child turned to her and held out the flowers. “He didn’t mean to, Mother. Please don’t be angry.”

The deep growl died in the wolf’s throat. Solas watched as the eyes rolled back, revealing their whites, and the mouth stretched open to expose rows of jagged teeth embedded into the gums. So many more teeth than any wolf he had ever seen. A bloodied arm reached from the throat. Black-stained fingers threaded with gold opened and the child placed the flowers into the open palm. They withered and died, dripping black ichor onto the wolf’s tongue.

“Solas,” a voice whispered from outside the Fade. Someone trying to wake him.

The wolf snapped their mouth shut. Eyes glaring at him. Daring him to do anything other than leave. If he were fully himself, he might take her up on that dare, but for now, he woke. Cassandra leaned over him, her hand on his shoulder. She withdrew when he sat up. The barest light of dawn crept through the window.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” she murmured.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s Makenna—“

Solas was up before she finished speaking. His dream lingered in his mind as he followed Cassandra.

“I am fine, Raina,” Makenna huffed, her voice drifting down the hall.

“You are bleeding.”

“I’ve brought Solas,” Cassandra said, standing back to let him enter.

Makenna rolled her eyes. “Unnecessary.”

The bloodied sheets caught his eyes first. They had been balled up and tossed to the floor, the yellowed fabric stained a deep red edged with muddy brown. Makenna sat on the side of the bed while Raina hovered over her, eyes wide in concern. Dried blood crusted over a wound scored deep into Makenna’s thigh. As Solas stepped further into the room, he noticed the blood formed a shape of a tree with thick roots and twisting branches. Yellow and red dripped from one of the roots and rolled down the side of her thigh before hitting the floor.

“Maker, Violet, that looks bad,” Varric said from the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Your skills of observation are unrivaled, Varric, truly.”

Raina reeled away from the venom in Makenna’s voice but Solas recognized the pain underneath. While she didn’t seem surprised by such an injury, she was clearly used to it.

“Clean water please, Cassandra,” Solas said. “And clean cloths.”

He waited until the others left to fetch the items he needed before kneeling on the floor in front of her. Unreadable eyes didn’t waver from his. Makenna’s fingers dug into the side of the mattress.

“How often?” he asked.

“Whenever it feels like it,” she answered.

“Why?”

She twisted her lips into a grimace. “I imagine you must know what a curse is.”

“I do.”

“Then I do not need to say more.”

He wished her to. If he thought he might get an answer, he would ask, but Makenna was nothing if not good at evading questions.

The others returned with the items he asked for. Water sloshed up the mottled sides of the pot. The water was slightly warm as if it had been boiled recently. Solas dipped a clean cloth into the water and wrung it out.

“I can clean it myself,” Makenna said.

He looked up at her. “Allow me, please.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. Makenna turned her head away from their audience as Solas carefully cleaned the blood from the wound. The cloth snagged on the edges and she winced, fingers digging into the mattress. Thick yellow pus oozed from the deep grooves. He heard a loud swallow and a soft gag from the doorway. Makenna sucked in a deep breath.

“Almost done,” he promised, dropping a soaked cloth into an empty bucket and grabbing another clean one.

Each swipe revealed shiny pink skin around the wound. The skin was blistering hot as if she had been burned. Branches became prominent without the coating of blood.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked.

“An elm,” Makenna answered, her chest heaving. “It’s an elm tree.”

“Does it mean something?” Cassandra asked.

Makenna huffed a laugh. “Of course it does. Do you think it would carve itself into my leg if it didn’t?”

“What can we do?” Raina asked.

“There is a healing poultice in my pack,” Solas answered before Makenna could snap at anyone else. “If you would—“

Raina ducked out of the room. A minute later she returned with the pack and handed it to him.

“Why don’t we let Chuckles work his magic and clean this up,” Varric suggested waving Cassandra and Raina from the room as they grabbed the pot and filthy bandages.

They were alone again. Solas softly brushed his fingers over the edges of raw skin. He could not fathom what she must’ve done to earn such a curse.

“I wouldn’t bother wasting your magic,” she said, sounding exhausted. “It will not work. The wound will heal on its own time and does not react well to magical interference.”

“Then I will not interfere,” he promised. “Will the poultice have the same effect?”

“The poultice…should be fine,” —she heaved a rattling sigh—“at the very least, it will numb some of the pain.”

“Very well.”

Solas smeared the earthy and minty cream over the stretch of raw skin. Her leg trembled but her face remained stoic. The bandages held the poultice against the skin.

“You have not asked,” she said.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“That is why I did not.”

Makenna closed her eyes. “She is…was my child. What is left of her.”

“Do you hold her there?”

“Would you think me cruel if I said yes?”

Solas leaned away after tucking in the edge of the bandage. “Cruel? I cannot say. I don’t believe I’m in a position to make that judgment. But I am curious.”

Makenna chuckled. “I lost something I cannot let go. Does that truly merit curiosity?”

“Everything about you merits curiosity, Makenna.”

She hummed under her breath. “I could say the same about you.”

“Could you?”

“From what I’ve heard and seen, the fact that you have pledged yourself to the Inquisition is…odd. You’re an apostate. An Elf. By all accounts, you are mired in a Chantry organization.”

“The Breach affects everyone,” he said.

“An answer and yet not at the same time,” she mused. “Surely it does but was the Inquisition the best place for your help? Were you not scared of hostility?”

“Certainly, but the risk was well worth it.” Solas stood. “The Inquisition is determined to close the Breach in ways that other organizations are not, and I will see to it that the Breach is sealed.

“And after? Will you stay when the Breach is closed?”

“I will stay for as long as my values align with the Inquisition’s.”

She pursed her lips. “How vague.”

"Indeed.”

She turned her head to hide her smile. “I am liking you more and more.”

“I am unsure if that is a good thing.”

Makenna laughed. “I suppose we will find out.”

***

Makenna stayed behind, exhausted from the constant throbbing of her wound, while the others geared up to meet the mysterious Red Jenny. Before they departed, Solas left Makenna tea that would hopefully dull the edges of her pain enough for sleep to set in. Hopefully a sleep that was devoid of violet mazes and unopened doors. A door that he very much wanted to open.

Sera was nothing like he expected and yet there was twinge of familiarity. An open disdain for nobles. For those who punished people they considered lesser and weaker. The heart of a quiet rebellion, punishing those it deemed worthy. She reminded Solas of him in his younger years. Hot-headed. Rash. Determined to bring those around him to heel.

And he had in the worst way possible.

He wasn’t expecting her equal disdain for elves. For what she should have considered her people. Solas could see the self-hatred that had burrowed within her. How it laced her words with venom as she spoke to Raina before softening when Raina didn’t rise Sera’s disgust.

Many times he thought Raina naive. She openly sought the best in people when it would inevitably hurt her. Solas wished she would practice more caution, regard people with more suspicion, but in truth, that was a wish born from the guilt that festered within him every time he stared at her mark. His mark. His anchor. His mistake. Yet she sought his counsel often. Even apologized for the ways her people had wronged him when he tried to tell them the truth, that they were lost children worshiping false gods. An unneeded apology that had eased the raw edges all the same.

He watched as Raina invited Sera to join them in Haven. See the Inquisition for herself. An organization that made up in heart what it lacked in size. Sera agreed.

Though Raina had invited Sera to travel with them, Sera declined, citing a desire to wrap up loose threads before she left Val Royeaux. They returned to the inn late in the night having traveled to and from the chateau on foot. Solas was more than ready to strip into his nightclothes and sleep until late morning but he stopped to check on Makenna first.

He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. Sweat beaded on her brow. He ghosted his fingers over her forehead to measure her fever. Her skin was clammy and warm but not enough to merit concern. A good nights sleep should put her to rights again.

He withdrew his hand but he didn’t yet leave.

Instead, he took in the way her lashes rested against her cheekbones. The dash of freckles sprinkled over her nose and cheeks that spread on her neck and down her chest, disappearing beneath the sheet she clutched to her body. Soft breaths dripped from her parted lips. He thought about them more than he ought to. More than he’d ever admit to. All those years asleep, deprived of physical touch, and she had been the first to kiss him. Solas wasn’t prone to shock, but Makenna had stilled him into silence, the memory of her lips seared against his.

“How is she?” Raina whispered, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“She should be better tomorrow, but if anything happens, wake me,” he said.

Raina nodded, setting her staff to rest on the wall by her side of the bed. Her eyes strayed to Makenna. “She always seems so…untouchable and secretive. It’s a little strange to see her like this.”

“Vulnerable,” he murmured.

“Exactly.” Raina nodded. “Solas, I,” —she hesitated a moment—“do you think me naive for not treating her as a potential enemy?”

In truth, yes. Makenna should be scrutinized and considered a risk. For her lack of knowing anything about Thedas, she seemed calculating and methodical. Perhaps it was a ruse. Either they think her an amnesiac or addled. A perfect cover for someone wanting to get within striking distance of anyone in the Inquisition.

There was also the terrifying possibility that she was telling the truth.

Solas drew in a breath. “You try to see the best in people, which is not a terrible quality to have but you must consider that one day it might become a flaw. Not everyone should be trusted.”

Raina snorted. “What a diplomatic way of saying yes.”

Solas offered a small smile. “I cannot lie to you, Herald. There is a chance she could be playing us. Even though you have elected to trust her, there are others committed to your protection that will be prepared if she is not who she says she is.”

“I don’t think she’s telling the whole truth,” Raina admitted. “But I don’t think she will harm us either.”

“I hope that you are right, Herald.”

Chapter Text

The gentle rocking of the carriage threatened to lull Makenna back to sleep, the sleeping draught still clinging to her exhausted mind. Normally, she wasn’t one to take a potion—never could trust it wasn’t poison—but pain kept her from restful sleep and she desperately wanted to sleep. The skin of her wound was still raw, but it had closed once more until the next time it decided to crack open and punish her with more pain.

“I’m surprised you asked me to come,” she said to Raina, hoping conversation would keep her awake. “I thought you’d bring Cassandra.”

Raina snorted, nervously plucking the clasps of her leather armor. They had spent the morning cleaning and buffing the leather into a pleasant sheen. The best they could do when they didn’t have the coffers for dress shopping. Makenna wished they could shop but she would break the Inquisition financially unless she used her powers to con people out of their wares.

And she briefly considered doing so if it meant filling her wardrobe.

“Cassandra doesn’t do well with nobility,” Raina replied, leaning back into the seats of the rented carriage.

“But you think I would do well?”

“I have a feeling.”

Makenna smirked. “Interesting feeling.”

Raina smiled and turned her head to look out the window. Rolling hills littered with opulent chateaus, copses of trees, and gated stone pathways drifted past. Raina’s smile dropped. “I rather feel as if I’m about to enter a den of snakes.”

“Nobles are snakes,” Makenna confirmed. “But I think one look from Cassandra would’ve terrified them.”

Raina huffed a soft laugh. “Maybe. I’m not sure her sword would work here though.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Raina tugged at her sleeves. “I’m trying to make diplomatic choices and I’ve never had to before. I’m thinking of all the ways I can screw it up, all the ways I will screw it up, and how am I going to go back to Haven and face them. If I bring Cassandra she might offend someone and we’re back to square one. Or if someone calls me a,” —Raina pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose—“knife ear or a rabbit, Cassandra might try to duel them and the Inquisition is worse off for it.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t try to duel them too?” Makenna asked, folding her hands in her lap.

Raina looked at her. Actually looked at her. Not with the bright, curious eyes, but eyes that seemed to understand exactly what they were looking at. The mask of naiveté slipped as Raina regarded Makenna with cool, calm eyes. “You’re too calculating. You think before you act. If you were to kill someone, no one would know it was you.”

Makenna raised an eyebrow. “What an astute observation, Herald. One I didn’t expect from you.”

“I’ve chosen to trust you, Makenna, because even though I know you’re hiding something, I don’t think you’re a threat to me.” Raina sighed and she relaxed again. “I just wish everyone else would stop treating me as if I’m childish for doing so.”

“Do they think you’re childish? Or are they protecting you because you’re the only one who can close the rifts?” Makenna rebutted.

“A bit of both I think,” Raina answered. “I know I’m the youngest among them, but that doesn’t make me a kid, and it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to read people, I just try not to think terribly of everyone we come across. Is that so wrong?”

“Highly depends on the situation.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m going to contemplate such a thing when someone is trying to kill me.”

“Then perhaps your framing is wrong.” Makenna tapped her fingers on her thigh. “There is nothing wrong in taking a moment to consider what you may or may not know about someone before rendering a judgement. In fact, I’d consider it wiser than acting rash when there is no need to do so.”

“Have you ever acted rashly?” Raina asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever regretted it?”

Makenna took a moment to answer, checking under her fingernails for invisible dirt. “Not as much as you’d hope.”

Raina’s eyes flicked away. “Did they deserve it?”

“Do you think it matters?”

“Yes,” Raina’s answers was hushed.

Makenna drew in a deep breath. “They had wronged me. Hurt people I loved. I enacted the justice I felt I deserved and I do not regret what I’ve done.”

Raina didn’t answer. Makenna didn’t know if she didn’t know what to say or if the carriage slowing drew her attention away. They were nearing the address on the invitation. Gilded gates sat open to admit the carriage up the long driveway. Raina released a shaky breath.

“Breathe,” Makenna said softly. “Don’t step out of this carriage until you are composed and ready.” She leaned closer. “Do you believe I will not let anyone harm you?”

“Yes,” Raina whispered.

Makenna curled her fingers under Raina’s chin and carefully tilted it up. “Then face these people without fear.” She stroked her thumb over Raina’s jaw, and Raina leaned into the touch. “Know that anyone who makes themselves an enemy of you, will make an enemy of me.”

When Raina stepped out of the carriage, her back was straight and her chin was tilted up. They might look down on her but she would look above them. Makenna stayed at her back. A solid and reassuring presence as they were announced before entering the grand foyer. All turned to witness the famed Herald of the heretical organization. Raina’s eyes darted around nervously before briefly meeting Makenna’s gaze, growing steely with resolve.

A man and a woman craned their necks, trying to get the attention of the Herald. Makenna suppressed a snicker as they nearly tripped over each other while Raina took her time approaching them.

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome.” The man spoke first, “So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here on business?” The woman spoke up, “I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

Makenna could only imagine all the things said about the Inquisition.

“Everything you’ve heard? Completely true.” Raina said coyly.

The group laughed, causing a few of the other guests to glare at them.

“Better and better. The Inquisition should attend more of these parties.”

“The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!”

Makenna turned her gaze to the source of the outburst. A masked man, his mouth twisted into a grimace, made his way down the stairs towards them.

“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.” He stopped in front of Raina.

“The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas.” Raina’s voice was strong, barely the hint of a waver.

“I would hardly call that a grab for power.” Makenna added, stepping forward in case she needed to put herself between him and Raina. She noticed his sword hand looked a bit twitchy and she was not taking any chances.

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!” He stepped towards Raina but, was halted by Makenna standing in front of the girl.

“We know what your “Inquisition” truly is. If you are both women of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.” He pointed his finger in Makenna’s face but she was unphased by him.

He reached back for his sword and Makenna paused a moment. The only way to deal with this would be to show her power and this was not how she wanted to tell Raina. Thankfully, the man froze, literally froze, encased in ice and Makenna did not have to worry. She stepped back, letting Raina step to the fore. The both looked up and watched a woman with deep russet skin walk down the grand staircase. The room was silent, the only sound that could be heard was the muffled pleas of the man in front of them. The large horns on her head made her seem taller and impressive. Makenna could see the frost around her fingers. The man hand’s twitched as the ice covered more of his body. A mask covered most of her fact, leaving only her piercing eyes and mouth uncovered.

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house…to my guests. You know such rudeness is…intolerable,” she spoke in a voice as smooth and rich as velvet.

“Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon,” he forced out, his lips turning blue with effort.

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

“The Marquis doesn’t interest me. Do whatever you like with him.” Raina sniffed and raised her chin.

Both Makenna, and whom she could only assume was Madame de Fer, gave Raina a small look of approval.

Madame Vivienne cupped the man’s chin, “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord.” She waved her hand slightly and slowly the ice thawed leaving a coughing and angry looking Marquis in its wake, “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. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure? Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt.”

The Marquis ran from the foyer, looking quite like a kicked puppy, with his tail between his legs. Makenna almost wanted to applaud Madame Vivienne. Very few could knock someone down to size with mere words. She was impressed. The woman turned around and acknowledged Raina, a small smile on her face.

“I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.” She turned, and nodded her head indicating Raina to follow.

Raina looked back at Makenna, the smallest glimmer of fear in her eyes but it disappeared quickly, and she quickly strode after Madame de Fer.

Makenna swept through the other guests, seemingly unseen. Without the Herald she wasn’t as interesting to look at and Makenna was just fine with that. She followed in the footsteps of the disgraced Marquis. Part of her hoped he had not left the grounds yet. She needed to know if there was any bark behind his bite. If someone had put him up to that display they needed to know who and whether or not they were a threat. And if perhaps that person might be Kiernan. Makenna didn’t know where he was and if he was pulling strings in a place she couldn’t see. Couldn’t be too careful.

She slipped through a small door in the hall and into a lush courtyard. The air heavily fragrant from the roses that climbed up trellises and bloomed from large bushes. The Marquis was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. She could hear him mutter curses underneath his breath.

“It seems that did not go as planned,” Makenna said, stepping onto the stone path.

He started and jumped up from the bench, hands clenched into fists and prepared to fight but, he saw that she was unarmed and relaxed slightly.

“It is a shame to have such an unpopular opinion of our Herald,” she commented as if she were telling him the sun was shining in the sky.

“Ha! She is not my Herald. She is a puppet. A front for the poor’s conquest for power. She is nothing but an apostate,” he huffed. “Andraste would never choose a rabbit, an elf to lead us.”

“A low opinion of elves and mages as well? You are not endearing yourself to me at all Marquis.”

He curled his lip back in disgust, “And who are you? Another puppet I presume.”

“There’s no need to know who I am.”

“You—"

Makenna reached forward and gripped his chin with one hand while the other slid under the edges of his gilded mask and pried it from his face. He scarcely had time to fight back before she fixed her gaze upon him.

Makenna forced her way through layers of his mind. Unfortunately for him, when she finished finding what she needed he would not be the same. Rattling around in someone’s head against their will could cause any number of future issues. More than likely he would forget this encounter ever happened, he would have trouble with some of his memories, and he would have trouble forming new memories. Worst case scenario, he would be nothing more than an empty shell.

It didn’t take her long to find what she was searching for, he was remarkably simple minded and had done nothing to build up mental resistance. The Marquis insulting Madame de Fer, the glint of anger in her eyes that quickly disappeared, the subtle hints about the Inquisition and their questionable origin. It was all Makenna needed to see. He was nothing more than a prattling idiot. Makenna let him go and he slumped to the ground. He let out a small groan before going quiet. He would probably be fine. Makenna turned and left the gardens, making her way back through the hall and to the foyer.

Raina waited by the stairs, her face a mask of cool indifference, but Makenna noticed the nervous drumming of her fingers against her leg.

“Did it go well?” Makenna murmured, sidling up to Raina.

“She’s going to meet us in Haven.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“I’m not sure what to make of her yet,” Raina answered. “But she raised an excellent point that I need all the help I can get.” Raina side-eyed her. “Where did you go?”

“I went for a short walk. The gardens are quite lovely,” Makenna said. Not a lie. Not the full truth. “Do you want to stay and enjoy the party?”

Raina’s eyes darted around. “I want to leave. I’m done here.”

“Then let’s go.”

***

Curiosity and disgust heavy in their gaze. Raina hated the way they looked at her. To them she was a topic of gossip. Tongues like knives that slit her open and studied her life. Picking her apart and putting her back together into an image that pleased them. The Divine’s murderer. A hopeless upstart leading a heretical organization. A rabbit that climbed for heights above her station. They spoke of orgies and blood magic as if the Inquisition didn’t work out of a Chantry. As she left the soirée with Makenna at her back, she heard them placing bets on how long before a templar beheaded her or made her tranquil.

Raina fought the urge to retch as their mocking laughter nipped at her heels. Even as she climbed into the carriage that would take them back to the city, she didn’t feel safe. Nowhere was safe for her. The Herald of Andraste was a title that had hooked its claws under skin and it would never let her go. Andraste burned on a pyre, betrayed by the one she loved. Would Raina? Would The Chantry drag her through the square of cutting glares and maniacal jeers before tying her to a stake and setting her ablaze, leaving her unable to do more than scream as her skin bubbled and blistered.

Air wheezed out of her lungs in tight bursts. Her chest tightened, ribs threatening to crack from the pressure. Velvet scraped against her fingers. They were going to kill her and parade her body in the streets. The Inquisition wouldn’t protect her. She was just an elf after all. What did it matter to them if an elf took the fall for their actions?

She was vaguely aware of someone speaking to her. Warm hands cupped her face. Thumbs dug into the hollows of her cheekbones. The sweet smell of violets mixed with woodsmoke tickled her nostrils. Raina breathed deep, reminded of her clan. Oh gods. Her clan. What if they track down her clan too? Would she be to blame for their slaughter? Hot tears welled.

“Oh, Raina,” Makenna breathed, kneeling in front of her. “Breathe, love, breathe.”

She was trying but her lungs didn’t want to take in air.

“I don’t want this,” Raina choked out, wheezing after every word. “They’re going to kill me. My clan. I can’t…I won’t…”

Darkness bloomed in the edges of her vision. Her head grew light. The grip on her face relented but the scent drew closer. Warmth enveloped her. A steady thrumming under her cheek. A heartbeat. Strong. Unwavering. Unlike her. She was weak. Untested. She would get them all killed. Tried and found guilty before the Chantry. Even her clan could pay the price for her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gentle fingers carded through her hair. A soft song broke through the darkness. A language she didn’t recognize. Raina felt her body relax little by little as the lyrics enfolded her in a gentle embrace, much like the woman holding her. Air trickled into her lungs. She drew in a shuddering breath. Tears flowed salty and silent. Panic slowly fled leaving her with only embarrassment. This was who the Inquisition had chosen as its agent. Perhaps she should tell them—far too late—that she couldn’t do this after all.

“Raina,” Makenna’s voice cut through the thoughts threatening to take over once more.

“I’m sorry,” Raina mumbled.

“No,” her voice was soft yet firm. “You never need to be sorry to me. Not for this. You are carrying a heavy burden. It is only natural to feel overwhelmed.”

Raina sniffed. “I feel like a crybaby.”

Makenna gently thumbed a stray tear from Raina’s cheek. “You are no child and tears do not make it so. Those people were casually cruel about your very existence and I’m sorry to say, many will be the same. They don’t think of you as a real person. Not really. Those are not the people you wish to court to your cause.”

“They’re terrible.”

“They are, and they will always be. You must push them from your mind.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Oh no. It is quite difficult, and some days will be harder than others, but you have people at your back. You must rely on them. Focus on them.”

“You sound as if you have experience.”

“I have my fair share of enemies.”

Raina sat up and turned to face her. “You do? Why?”

The corner of Makenna’s mouth quirked. “I am very opinionated.”

“And cryptic.”

Makenna laughed and Raina’s chest seized for an entirely different reason than panic. “At times.”

“Will you ever tell us more about yourself?”

“One day, I’m sure.”

Raina blew out a breath and leaned back in her seat. “One day,” she repeated and Makenna’s smiled grew. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like teasing me.”

Makenna leaned closer, slowly crowding Raina into the corner; not just with her body but her presence was overwhelming. Something about her. An energy. Pulsating and expanding; taking all of the air in the room. Makenna said she was no mage and Raina didn’t feel her pull at the Fade around them, but that didn’t mean Makenna did not have power. Now it was pressing against Raina. Pushing her back into the cushion. Her skin tingled and grew warm. Sweat dripped down her temple, carving a path through hot skin. Raina felt as if she might burn up in Makenna’s presence and found herself thrilled rather than terrified.

“You are easy to tease,” Makenna whispered, full lips so close to Raina’s wanting mouth. “I would be remiss not to fully enjoy the experience.”

“Fully enjoy?” Raina asked, haltingly, finding herself short of breath again.

Makenna hummed and Raina’s eyes darted to the column of her throat. She wondered what the woman’s skin would taste like under her lips. Would Makenna make sounds or simply watch Raina try desperately to please her with infuriating silence? She was so close to finding out.

The carriage came to a stop. Sounds of the city slowly bled inside of the carriage but Raina didn’t want to leave. Not when she was so close. But Makenna leaned away, leaving an aching void in her wake. The moment was lost. Ruined by the unfortunate timing of the carriage. Raina let out a breath and sagged against the cushion.

Makenna offered a wane smile, her expression otherwise shuttered. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Chapter Text

Makenna couldn’t sleep. Or perhaps it was better to say, she was afraid to sleep. While she never had the dreams this close together before, she didn’t want to risk it. Not when they had already seen her vulnerable and in pain. The Morrigan had impeccable timing when it came to knocking Makenna down a peg. Reminding her of what Makenna was supposed to be doing. Her end of the bargain that she had yet to uphold. Something she couldn’t do anything about while stuck in Thedas but at least she knew now that The Morrigan could reach her anywhere which put quite a damper on things.

The others slept soundly as she wandered into the quiet kitchen. The stove was still warm from dinner. A quick flick of her fingers and she could reignite the stove to make herself a quick cup of tea. Something to take the edge of pain off without sending her back to sleep. A clatter outside drew her attention. She was quick. Stealthy. Slipping outside to catch whoever was creeping about. Gods help them if they were here to harm Raina. Makenna would take care of them as cleanly as possible.

The darkness of the alley remained still. Silent. Makenna’s eyes darted, piercing through the darkness. A small form shuffled out from behind a stack of rotting crates. Makenna recognized the child from the alienage, face as tear-stained as the other night, but pupils wide in fear. They stared at her, shoulders trembling, but didn’t move any closer. Makenna crouched down. Bringing herself eye level.

“Your siblings must be worried about you,” Makenna said softly. “Do you need me to take you home, little one?”

Seconds stretched between them, taut as bow string. The child darted forward and grasped Makenna’s hand as if she were drowning and only Makenna’s hand could save her. She keened and tugged at Makenna’s hand. A plea to follow. To help.

“I’m with you,” Makenna said, letting herself be tugged down the alley and back towards the alienage.

The streets were quiet until they drew closer to the alienage. Makenna heard the sounds of whimpering and jeering. An enraged yell following by a sickening crack and mocking laughter. Elauthin stopped short of entering the alienage and pointed to where city guards were standing over her siblings. One was down, blood masking the sharp features of his face. The other quivered at the feet of the guards. Three of them. Makenna need not imagine what they planned to do. No one else came to help. The doors to the rest of homes remained shut tight. Fear a powerful tool.

“Stay hidden,” Makenna whispered. “Can you do that for me?”

The child nodded.

Makenna did not bother to silence her steps. She was not afraid but they would be very afraid of her. The guards turned to her, faces hidden behind gilded masks leaving only their eyes visible. The young woman on the ground whimpered and attempted to take their moment of inattention to crawl to her brother. One of the guards turned and stomped on her hand. She cried out.

“Where do you think you are going rabbit?” the guard taunted while the girl wailed.

Anger flickered in her chest.

“Leave her be,” Makenna demanded.

“This does not concern you,” one of the guards snapped. “Leave us so that we might have our fun.”

“With her?” Makenna gestured to the girl. “You could have so much more fun with me.”

"Is that so?” the man sneered as she took another step closer to him. “Will you scream better than the rabbit?”

“Me?” Makenna gestured to herself before sliding her fingers up his arm to rest on his shoulder. Her mouth brushed the shell of his ear. “No. But your friends might before you are through with them.”

Such a simple mind to slide inside. It hardly took any effort on her part to grasp ahold of him while he trembled under her touch. He didn’t even know it was happening until it was far too late to stop her. Not that he had the power to do so. He made a choking sound as he tried to speak without her permission. To tell his friends what was happening to him.

“You wish for a hunt tonight? Very well,” she whispered, a low growl echoing on her throat. “Hunt your friends. Chase them through the shadows of Val Royeaux. Make them choke on their own bile and blood. You will not eat nor sleep nor stop until they are dead, and when they are, you are to declare your many crimes in the square before hanging yourself until there is no more breath in your lungs.”

He whimpered.

“Time to hunt,” she hissed.

Like a puppet on strings, he jerked towards the other guards and drew his sword. “Run,” he grunted, voice lost as steel screamed against steel.

“Cyril! What are you doing?” one of them cried, stumbling away as Cyril wildly swung his sword. “Stop!”

A swing caught and a cry turned into a pained bellow as blood sprayed across stones. The third guard turned tail and fled leaving the second to stumble back while red painted the polished gold of his chest plate. Not a wound deep enough to kill, but enough to catch him off-guard while the second blow sank into the tender meat of his throat. He choked out his friends name once more and sank into the ground with a heavy clink of armor. Cyril waited the barest of moments for his friend’s lungs to still and then he was off to chase the other as she had directed. She doubted they would make it to morning before the man hung himself in the town square. A shame she would likely miss it as the boat left early.

The only sound left in the alienage were the quiet whimpers of the young girl, shielding her brother’s still body with her own. Metal glinted in the pale moonlight as she pointed a knife at Makenna with a shaking hand.

“Any closer and I’ll slit your throat, shem,” she threatened.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Makenna promised.

“That’s what they always say before they bury a blade in your back,” the girl snarled. “You think because you did something to their minds that I’ll let you touch me or my family. Leave us and maybe I won’t gut you.”

“And what about him?” Makenna asked, gesturing to her brother. “Do you have what you can to help him? Or would you rather he die?”

“I can take him to the healer,” the girl snapped.

Makenna looked around to the doors that were still closed tight. “Which one is the healer? Surely they would have come out by now if they intended to help.”

The girl’s jaw tightened but her eyes flicked to her brother who still wasn’t moving. A conundrum. A desperate need for help when help would not come when fear was thick as fog. Makenna would help if the girl would let her but also couldn't blame her for not trusting anyone given what just happened and what Makenna had learned about the attitudes towards elves, Dalish and city elves alike. Makenna slowly crouched down to eye level and kept her hands visible.

"What is your name?" Makenna asked.

"Nehari," the girl forced out through her teeth.

"Your brother needs a healer, Nehari," Makenna said, keeping her voice low. "I am not a proficient healer but I know someone. He's an elf. Like you. I will leave if you ask me to but your brother will likely die without help."

Nehari dropped her gaze and swallowed. Distrustful hatred turned to anger and then to tired acceptance. "Fine," she spat. "Help us. Help him."

"Can you get him inside on your own?" Makenna asked. "If you can do that, I will go now and bring the healer to you. Which home is yours?"

Nehari nodded to the only one with an open door. "There. I can get him inside by myself just…hurry."

A soft cry from the alley made Makenna pause as she stood to leave. The hidden child rushed towards Makenna, grasping for her hands, eyes wide and begging but not afraid, at least, not of her.

"Let her go, Elauthin," Nehari said. "Help me get Farryn inside."

Elauthin's blue eyes shone with tears and motherly instinct reared its ugly head. Everything in Makenna wanted to hold this child. Wipe her tears. Protect her from the horrors of the world, too many of which she had likely already seen. But Makenna was no mother. Not anymore. Not for a very long time. And she did not do a good enough job of protecting her own child from the cruelties of her home. Why should she ever get another chance?

"I will be right back," Makenna promised. "I am going to get someone who can help."

Elauthin made a distressed noise in her throat but let go of Makenna's hands to scurry to her sister's side and assist in getting their brother out of the middle of the courtyard. As before, glinting eyes followed Makenna as she retraced her steps back to the inn. So many watchers but no helpers. A shame. Makenna wondered if their parents were among that number, but she didn't think so. She didn't know of any parents that could watch as their children were tormented so blatantly. Then that begged the question of where their parents were in the first place. Would Nehari tell Makenna if she asked? Unlikely.

Soft snores greeted her as she quietly took the stairs to reach the room Solas and Varric shared. Neither stirred as the door opened nor as she carefully stepped to Solas' side of the bed. Featherlight lashes brushed start cheekbones. His chest rose and fell steadily, his face impassive. No twitching or otherwise to indicate if he dreamed or not. Makenna gently touched his shoulder. A sharp intake of breath. His eyes fluttered open and locked onto her. She pressed her finger to her mouth so he would not speak and disturb Varric. She didn't think the others would appreciate her getting involved in something such as this but hopefully Solas might understand. He was an elf after all.

He waited until they were downstairs to speak quietly. "What is the matter?"

"I need your assistance with something," she murmured, leading him outside.

To his credit, Solas did not pepper her with questions as she guided him to the alienage. Or perhaps he already knew she had stuck her nose in business that didn't truly concern her. Even as they entered the darkened home, Solas asked her nothing as he crossed the room and knelt beside Farryn, lithe fingers gently probing tender skull. Nehari watched them from the corner, her hands firmly on Elauthin's shoulders to keep the child from reaching for Makenna again. All waited with bated breath for the verdict. To know whether or not Farryn would recover. That Solas could heal the harm caused. Makenna waited by the door, her gaze burned a hole into his back. Desperation writhed inside of her, old and familiar, and she despised it. Why did it matter if Solas could help? It certainly didn't concern her and yet she couldn't help the way her eyes flicked to the trembling child staring at her with wet eyes.

What did Elauthin see when she looked at Makenna?

"He will recover though he needs rest," Solas said, rising to his feet. The low ceiling forced him to slant his head slightly as he turned to Nehari. "His head will ache but there will be no lasting damage."

Nehari sagged in relief, shoulders trembling. "Thank you."

He gave a terse nod and paused at the door to levy Makenna with an unreadable look. "A word when you return."

She nodded and he swiftly exited the alienage as if he were being chased by relentless spirits. Perhaps such a place truly unnerved him. Did he grow up in an alienage? Or was he unfamiliar with such harrowing circumstance? She turned back to where Nehari gently wiped the blood away from Farryn's face with a dirty rag but Elauthin remained in the corner, her eyes glued to Makenna with a keen sense of wonder. Did Makenna truly not terrify her after what had happened? As if sensing the inner turmoil, Elauthin drifted closer and held out her hand. Crushed inside of her palm was the revived flower slowly beginning to fade and wilt, returning to the death Makenna had plucked it from but for a moment. Elauthin waited for Makenna to offer her own hand and she pressed the flower into Makenna's palm.

"I cannot revive it again," Makenna mumured but Elauthin shook her head and curled Makenna's fingers over the flower. "Ah. Thank you for the gift."

Elauthin's smile was blinding.

Nehari watched carefully but didn't threaten Makenna this time. Perhaps Nehari finally realized that while there were many threats in Val Royeaux, Makenna was not one of them. Currently.

"Where are your parents?" Makenna asked.

"Gone for work," Nehari answered quickly.

"I see." Makenna looked Elauthin over, taking in how thin she was; skin sticking to jutting bone. "How long have they been gone for work?"

How long has it been since you've eaten? How long since someone was here to take care of you? Have they abandoned you or has some terrible fate befallen them?

Many questions she swallowed because a part of her knew the answers and dragging it out of them would just be fresh pain, hot and bursting.

"Some time now. But they've sent us money for food," Nehari said defensively.

When did they stop?

Elauthin curled her fingers around Makenna's wrist and looked up at her imploringly. Oh. Solas was going to be very displeased with what Makenna was about to do but she couldn't help herself. The next words compelled themselves right out of her traitorous mouth and yet she couldn't find it in her to regret them.

"Would you like to come with me back to Haven?"

Nehari's eyes glinted in the low light. "Why would we want to go anywhere with you?"

"Have you heard of the Inquisition?" Makenna asked instead.

"Stories."

"There's warm meals and cabins. Perhaps better than here."

Nehari's lip curled. "Don't want your charity, shem."

"There's jobs as well. Stable ones," Makenna added. "If you're worried about owing me, I'm not very interested in collecting."

"You say that now."

"Would you like me to swear it?"

"As if that would mean anything."

Makenna cocked her head to the side. Nehari was full of anger, raw and bubbling, but had nowhere to direct it. Their life would never improve here. Might not improve in Haven but Makenna would try to make sure they had what they needed to take better care of themselves. Give them a better start than starving in a derelict house or dying at the hands of city guards.

"Let's make a deal then," Makenna suggested.

"And what kind of deal would that be?"

"You never tell anyone what you saw me do to those guards tonight and I will never keep a ledger of debt for you. Keep my secret and never owe me. Deal?"

Nehari cocked her head curiously. "Why?"

"My power is my own. I'm not inclined to share with others."

Nehari frowned and looked to Farryn. "He could have died tonight," she murmured, gently pushing dark blond hair away from his face.

Makenna waited in silence for Nehari to think over their options while Elauthin busied herself plucking at Makenna's sleeve, tugging a thread loose and trying to grasp it to pull it further out. With a soft snort, Makenna tapped Elauthin's fingers and shook her head.

"You'll pull my sleeve right off," she gently teased and pink dusted Elauthin's cheeks as she withdrew her hands.

Nehari stood and stared down Makenna. "We'll go to Haven but I will find a job and I will pay our own way. I won't take handouts."

"And our deal?"

"We keep your secret and never owe you a debt."

~

Makenna found Solas waiting by the freshly lit fire in the hearth. No one else had stirred yet though dawn slowly approached, red creeping up until the sky resembled a fresh bruise. The boat would be leaving soon and with three extra passengers. Makenna bid them to join her at the docks, giving Nehari an opportunity to change her mind should she so desire but Makenna had a feeling they would be there. They could stay in her cabin that had far more beds than she could use on her own and find work though she cared little about them paying for anything. She would get them what they needed, and she was already thinking of what they would need. Hot meals. New clothes. Amidst her racing thoughts, she heard her mother's voice in her head.

You're being foolish. Acting before thinking as always. This will not end well for anyone involved.

Makenna batted the thoughts away and stood beside Solas, basking in his contemplative silence. The long night tugged at her mind but she doubted she would be sleeping again until they reached Haven.

"What happened?" he finally asked.

"The little one searched me out. There were city guards terrorizing them."

"I saw no city guards."

"I had convinced them to leave."

His stormy eyes slid to her then. "And how did you manage such a feat?"

Makenna met his gaze unflinchingly. "Perhaps I hurt them."

Solas did not rise to her attempt at unsteadying him with such a flippant declaration of violence. Instead he gave a small nod, believing her though he did not press for details and looked back to the fire. "Did you think that wise? Will they not pay for your actions?"

"I offered to bring them back to Haven with us," Makenna said as an answer. "They will meet us at the docks if they wish to come."

"You wish to be their valiant savior then? To whisk them away to a purportedly better life when hardly such a thing exists in this world. and certainly not with the Inquisition."

She scoffed. "I am not that cruel. I did not sell them a dream, merely an opportunity for wages, shelter, and a hot meal. What they make of that is their choice."

"How benevolent of you."

Her jaw tightened. "They are alone and they do not have to be. What is so wrong in offering them another option?"

His eyes slid back to hers. "If that is truly your intention, then nothing, I suppose. But I question the wisdom of bringing them to a place that will undoubtedly be just as hostile, perhaps moreso given reactions to the Herald of Andraste being an elf."

"I question the wisdom of believing three starving children are better off in a place with no hope of protection. If there is no truly good place for an elf perhaps they only need choose a place that will better serve their basic needs first," she rebutted. "At least with the Inquisition there is a chance. If they stay here, their death is an inevitability."

Solas hummed. "Perhaps. I only hope you, and they, will not come to regret such a decision."

Makenna looked into the dancing flames of the fire. "Would hardly be the first decision I've ever regretted, and would not be the last."