Chapter Text
Polished boots echoed off the dark gray stone ramparts, the clang of his armor muffled by the crimson cloak that fluttered around his tall frame. As the ring of soldiers that had gathered around the wagon parted to allow him passage, a deep furrow creased his high brow, cold, amber eyes squinting as the glaring noon sun glinted off a nearby helm. “Report.”
“Commander!” One of the men stepped forward smartly, saluting with hand over his heart. “The scouts reported that she fell out of a rift, near the shores of Lake Calenhad, about a day’s south of here. None of the villagers recognized her. No weapons on her person, nor any other supplies.”
Nodding absently as the soldier stepped back into formation, the Commander gazed down at the woman who lay unconscious on the bed of the wagon, hair black as obsidian draped across her face. Her breeches were snug around her legs, created out of some stiff blue fabric that was unfamiliar to him, as was her thin, dark teal tunic that brushed the top of her thighs. The quality, at least, of the material was high, indicating that she was more than likely of the nobility, perhaps a wealthy merchant’s daughter, or wife. Yes, wife. Although her ring was missing, he could see the pale band of skin around her fourth finger on her left hand, indicating that she had recently worn a ring for quite some time.
“Take her to the infirmary for now. Post guards by her bed. When she awakes, send for either myself or the seneschal.”
“Yes, ser!”
A familiar scent of lilies drifted by on the breeze, the cadence of her footsteps familiar to him. “Who was that?”
“A woman,” he replied, clipped and courteous as he always was. “Our people say she fell out of a rift not too far from here. She’s unconscious, so hopefully she will have answers when she awakes.”
“Another one?” The woman laughed, glancing down at the emerald green glow embedded in her left hand. “Well, now I don’t feel quite as special.”
“She had no visible mark, so there’s that, at least. If you’ll excuse me, Inquisitor, I have work I need to finish.” Offering the woman a short bow, he started to head back towards the stairs that would lead him up onto the battlements, where his office was.
“Cullen,” her soft voice called after him. Had he turned around to face her, he would have seen her bright blue eyes, filled to the brim with regret and pain, eyes that he had once loved to stare into for hours deep into the night. But now, all it did was remind him of his chains, cold and hard around his throat, so he kept his gaze focused on scraggly patch of weeds by the wall instead.
“Did you need something else, Inquisitor?”
“I… No.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
Day by day, the army that he led grew, the ranks swelling to fill the valley below until it overflowed down the mountainside. From every corner, men and women of all races flocked to the Inquisition’s banner, having heard of the Inquisitor’s might, how she had sealed the Breach twice, toppled a self-proclaimed god, forced mighty Orlais to heel and ended the civil war. And day by day, even though the true threat was over, his own stress continued to mount. There was the neverending stream of recruits to train, rations and requisitions for weapons and supplies to maintain, countless bases and fortresses scattered across Thedas to man, and he was in charge of it all. Anyone else would have been honored to be called Commander of the Inquisition. And once, he had as well. But now, all he felt was…
Empty. Numb. Distant.
Pushing the door open, the heavy wood swinging smoothly on well-oiled hinges, he barely noticed the neat, immaculate piles of books and reports, organized and waiting for his attention. That too had once been different, parchments scattered across the massive desk, random quills used to bookmark passages in the books that laid haphazardly on every surface. Now there was only order, as he had been taught.
The chair creaked under the weight of his slim bulk and his armor as he settled down into the worn leather, one hand reaching for the bottom drawer of his desk. Pulling out a smooth wooden box, the lid engraved with a sword wreathed in flames, Cullen stifled a sigh, his hands moving through the movements by rote.
He was so tired. At least the nightmares weren’t as bad as they had been, before… Well. It didn’t matter anymore. Holding the pale blue powder in the spoon over the candle, he stared as the lyrium melted down into a viscous puddle, mixing it quickly with the other crushed herbs and pouring it into the vial before it cooled. The metallic minty liquid spread over his tongue, familiar, yet not comforting, not like it had used to be. Now, it was just a reminder of how far he had gotten, only to relinquish his freedom once again. All for this.
His eyes roved over his office, staring out the narrow window slits at the castle on the other side of the courtyard. All for the Inquisition, all because of her. She had asked him, and he had agreed, wanting to give his all. But had it been worth it? What was left for him, after his duty was fulfilled?
Sliding the next report off the top of the pile, Cullen rolled his neck, heaving a sigh as the worn bones cracked back into place, and dipped his quill’s nib into the pot of ink to resume his work. This was all that mattered now anyhow. This, at least, made him useful.
***
It was the flickering of candlelight and the straw of her mattress, stabbing her through her clothes that finally roused her. Wincing at the throbbing of her head, she slowly pushed herself upright, blinking at her strange surroundings. Was she in a monastery of some sort? The walls were thick stone, what looked like hand dipped candles resting on brass stands throughout the room that was filled with cots identical to hers, all bearing thin linen sheets and lumpy, crude bedding, with a rough woolen blanket spread over one end.
“Oh, you’re awake. Lucas, send for one of the advisors and let them know, will you dear?” An older woman in a simple roughspun gown kneeled by her bed, dabbing a wet cloth at a stinging pain on the side of her head. “You took quite the fall, my lady. How are you feeling?”
Licking her parched lips a few times, she managed to croak, “Water. Please.” A small wooden cup appeared to her left, and she took it gratefully, trying not to gag at the musty taste of the mostly clear liquid within. Had they dredged this water from a nearby pond?
“Do you think you can eat something, dear?”
Suddenly exhausted, she fell back onto her pillow, nodding tentatively as a bowl of what appeared to be watery stew was placed onto the table next to her. The lukewarm broth was greasy, and in dire need of seasoning and salt, but still she managed to devour half the bowl. When was the last time she ate? And where exactly was she?
“Thank you,” she rasped to the woman attending her. “Where-”
“Good evening.” A slim, redheaded woman in her mid-thirties strolled into the low building, smiling warmly at the women, but when her gaze settled on her, it was anything but friendly, the sweet, lilting accent belying the ice within.
“Good evening,” she attempted a wan smile. “Do you know where I am, miss?”
Raising one delicate eyebrow, the woman perched on the bed opposite hers, studying her. “You are in Skyhold. Might I have your name?”
“Ari, well, Arianne. Arianne Iseri,” shaking her head, she frowned down at her fingers that were plucking at the loose threads of her blanket. “Skyhold?” There was no way. Did that mean this was…?
“Yes, you were found by our men. This is the home of the Inquisition.” Ari maintained a neutral, blank expression for now. “In the Frostbacks, on the border of Ferelden and Orlais. Does any of that seem familiar?”
Deciding that her silence on exactly how familiar those places were was best for the time being, Ari slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, nothing rings a bell.” She knows I’m lying. Of course she does, I can’t outsmart fucking Leliana.
“Well, then. Let’s talk about you. Where are you from?”
“Born and raised in South Carolina,” she replied easily. “Although I’ve been living in Georgia for the past few years.”
Not bothering to hide her confusion or distrust at this point, Leliana leaned in closer, her dark green eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And where is that exactly?”
“Southeastern part of the United States of America. It’s a country,” she supplied unhelpfully. “A big one? Sandwiched between Mexico and Canada, between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?”
“I do not think I’ve ever heard of any country in Thedas by those names,” Leliana spoke slowly.
“Thedas? What are you talking about?”
“This world?”
“...Our world is called Earth.”
“She is awake?”
Ari barely was able to restrain her shock as Cullen Rutherford ducked inside the room, his russet fur mantle appearing almost black in the dim light. His eyes flickered from one woman to the other, waiting until Leliana spoke, “Her name is Arianne Iseri, she says. And she claims to be from another world.”
“That’s impossible,” his scowl was even more impressive in person, Ari noted. And terrifying when she realized these people held her life in their hands. What if they thought she was a threat, a spy?
“I promise, it’s true,” she whispered in her best frightened voice. Luckily, she didn’t have to act very hard to be convincing.
“What should we do with her, then?”
“If only Solas was still here, or Dorian,” Leliana mused, one finger tapping idly against her knee. Solas is gone? And Dorian? Does that mean Corypheus has been defeated? I wonder what year it is.
“We could simply keep her in the dungeons for now,” Cullen suggested.
“We could,” Leliana agreed. “Or… What was your job, back on this Earth?”
Startled by the sudden question, Ari took a second before answering, “I was a nurse in the ER.” Oh, they don’t have that term here. “I helped heal sick people, cared for them whenever they came to me with an emergencies,” she amended. “Broken bones, lacerations, stabbing wounds, poison, things like that.”
“You’re a healer?”
“Where I’m from, yes, I suppose you could call me that. But I think,” she glanced nervously around the room, finally recognizing that this was the infirmary she was ensconced in, the smell of dried herbs filling the air. “I think the tools and medicine I’m used to are very different from here.” No soap, for one. Bleh.
“Commander,” craning her neck back to where the imposing man stood near the wall, Leliana asked, “What do you think about letting her work here? I can spare one of my scouts, or perhaps one of your soldiers can guard her. For your own safety, of course,” her wolfish smile hid nothing of her true intent.
She wants me loose and somewhat free, so she can catch me doing whatever it is she thinks I’m here to do.
“That can be easily arranged,” Cullen agreed.
“Well, that settles it,” the Seneschal chirped brightly. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Mistress Iseri.”