Chapter Text
Location: Thedas, Foul Mire
Party: Herald of Andraste : Mage - Caelus Levellen
Mages: Solas, Dorian Pavus
Archer: Varric Tatherus
Warrior: The Iron Bull (Plus The Chargers)
The time is mid-afternoon, Solas, Bull and Caelus are in the middle of fighting off a horde of demons around a rift, while Varric, Dorian, and The Chargers keep the near-ever-ending undead from overwhelming them.
“What the fuck is with this rift? Damn thing keeps spitting out demons like it’s our name-day gift. On your left Boss.” Bull yells.
Caelus grunts as Rage demon attempts to swipe at his ribs. Bloody fuck, there was almost no end to them.
“Cover me!” he yells Fade Stepping just under the rift, his hand raised high. The mark reaches out, in his mind, he envisions pulling the door shut, only something to hold it open. Frowning he looks up and at first, he doesn’t see it but as he squints a golden hand holds onto the end of the tear.
That was not normal.
Then the screaming started. His eyes widened as the hand before him yanked the edge of the rift wider. A body is being hurled out and over his head. The person hits the ground hard. He goes to move but the magic of the anchor holds him still.
Grunting Caelus has to bite at his cheek to keep from also screaming as the mark stretches out further on his hand, only to feel it all shift. With more effort than he’s ever used to close this rift, he pulls and the magic is taught once more. His hand begins to shake violently forcing him to drop his staff to support his wrist before yanking hard. The rift doesn’t fight him this time and slams audibly closed. The spirits and demons around them either vanish or fall quickly to his companions' skills.
Fatigue laces his breath, his knees shaking from the sheer effort. He’d not felt anything like this since he’d first awoken after the Conclave. Golden eyes flick to the still form in the grass, a new fear filling him as he rushes over to kneel by what is now more notably a female form.
Long wavy raven hair shields the woman's face, her odd clothes keeping much hidden beside her feet, which are bare. Pushing their shoulder, Caelus reposition them onto their back, before calling out, “Solas!” Blood was covering the majority of the left side of the woman's face and neck. Not by a small amount either.
Multiple sets of feet rush over to him.
“Hareld are you alright?”
“Yes, but she isn’t. Rift tossed her out like a sack of hay into the lofts. I heard her hit the ground hard.” he states. Solas kneels and moves more hair from their face. Caelus feels an itch at the back of his mind. Something was familiar about her… something important, but the memory wouldn’t move forward. It felt like when he would try to remember the event at the Conclave. No matter how much he pushed with the fog it remained.
The rest of the group joins them. A high appreciative whistle echoes around the small grove.
“Now that's what I call a beautiful woman.” hums Bull.
“Really? She’s unconscious you giant oaf.” Dorian grumps before moving to check on Caelus. The elf blushes at the attention.
“Is no one gonna say anything about her just falling out of the Fade? No? Great, moving on. Chuckles, is she even a she or something other?”
Caelus sees Solas roll his eyes, which was an interesting reaction, the man normally kept a fairly tight mask.
“ She appears to be human, though some of her features look elven,” he brushes hair from one ear, “It is more than likely she is a mix.” Leaning over a bit, he sees the small point to her ears.
“Wonderful, now where did she come from? These clothes are not anything I've ever seen,” states Dorian, pinching the fabric by the girl's ankle, “Oh, that's very soft.”
“I'd wager Tevinter,” Bull voices pulling the lapel of her coat, the Tivinter Imperiam heraldry lays with strange text through the middle, “Runaway slave?”
“It’s possible.” Dorian sighs. A grim look passed over his, Bull's, and Krems's faces.
“Why are you all looking like that?”
“Darling,” he picks up the girl's hand, “if she is a run away it’s possible that she was used for another purpose than housework. I'm not saying it was sexual but the possibility is high. Another thought is she showed great magical potential and they turned her into an assassin of some kind.”
Caelus frowns as the itch grows and something uncomfortable builds in his stomach as the group debates further.
“She bears beauty from both the races and would have sold for a high amount. My father didn’t run in those circles but he would complain about them. I have no memory of an elven woman in the last few decades of this, caliber. Trust me, word would spread.
Solas growls in the back of his throat. Caelus could only agree with the sound. So many of their people were used and abused. Sometimes you can put it to the side, for one reason or another, but in the end, it was appalling.
The soft light around Solas’s hands dims. A frown was still prominent, but for what looked like a different reason. “I have healed her enough for us to be able to move her back to camp. I suggest we do this quickly, I do not want to risk us getting into a fight along the way.”
They all agree, Solas surprising them all as he lifts the young woman into his arms easily. Caelus watches as Bull and the Chargers circle him easily. A protective aura almost seemed to bleed off him. It was strange, but also weirdly sweet. The others were going to pick on him relentlessly he could already see it.