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Dragon Age: Absolution

Summary:

Ashlyn Trevelyan has been running from her past and family for years. But suddenly she finds herself in the middle of the fight of her life. Will dragons, templars and charming commanders prove to be too much for her? (Disclaimer: Characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware & EA.)

Notes:

All characters, worlds, etc. belong to Bioware and EA.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The hard cobblestone did not greet the prisoner's knees kindly. They landed with a grunt, as the rest of their body followed. Flushed cheeks pressed against the cold ground as they attempted to roll back up. The chains and bar around their thin wrists made it more difficult, but eventually, they were kneeling.

A green hood was hiding the face of the prisoner, their head hanging low as they stared at their bound hands on their lap. They counted four guards pacing the room, their shields tapping lightly against their back as they marched.

Frustration overcame the prisoner as they sat in the unknown. Shaking the green hood free of their head, a woman's face was revealed. One of the guards turned, taking her in. A long, brown ponytail was tossed over her shoulder, soft freckles covered her olive skin. Mauve lips were pursed into a line, thick eyebrows and nose furrowed - contorting the scars that laid upon them. She was beautiful but intimidating. Grey eyes cut through the guard, sending a shiver down his spine. It was a look that could kill.

A scowl spread across her face when she noticed the guard staring. "What?!" She spat bitterly.

"Oi. Shut up prisoner." The other guard spoke up, flashing a glare.

"Make me." She snarled her upper lip curling.

The guard stomped over to where she was kneeling, looming over her. "You're gonna regret that bitch."

Anger flared in her, without thinking she spat at his face. Before she could blink, an armored hand struck her. A pink gash appeared high along her cheekbone. A grunt escaped her lips before she moved her chin up, her nostrils flared.

"Leave her." The other guard spoke up. "Just go back to your post. The Seeker should be here any moment." The man returned to his post next to the door, looking at his feet awkwardly. The other guards shook their heads, frustrated with their companion.

The woman let out a ragged breath as she felt a warm sensation develop in her left hand. She bit the inside of her cheek as the warmth turned into searing pain. Suddenly, a green light erupted from her hand. Her grey eyes widened with surprise, her mouth hanging open.

The guards changed formation at the appearance of the green light. They circled the prisoner, their swords drawn and pointed right at her. Flipping her hand over, the woman watched as the light erupted out her hand again. She let out a noise — what is this thing?

Abruptly, the cell door was kicked open and the silhouette of a woman walked in. Her steps were heavy with determination. A hooded figure slinked out from behind her, startling the prisoner. The guards sheathed their swords, as the two figures approached her.

The first woman had black pixie hair and was bearing the crest of the Seekers. She circled behind her, leaning down to speak into her ear. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." A twang of pain inflicted in her voice. "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

The prisoner furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "You think I'm responsible?"

Reaching down, she gripped the prisoners' bound hand. It lit up green. "Explain this."

Stumbling over her words, the prisoner was confounded. "I, I - uh, can't."

"What do you mean you can't?!" The seeker's hand moved to the top of her sword.

"I don't know what that is! Or how it got there!" Fear crept into the prisoner's voice.

"You're lying." The seeker's hand slammed into the prisoner's chest.

The purple hooded woman, who had been standing in the shadows, grabbed onto her and pulled her off. "We need her, Cassandra!"

Noticing her new sudden defense, the prisoner spoke with more confidence."Whatever you think I did, I'm innocent!"

The purple hooded woman's voice was much softer. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

The change in tone calmed the prisoner. Blinking a few times, she tried to think. "I remember running. Things were chasing me and then..." The memory went fuzzy. "A woman?"

"A woman?" Her voice turned hopeful.

The prisoner nodded. "She reached out to me but then..." The memory escaped her again.

"Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift." Cassandra's voice was not harsh anymore. The woman exchanged looks, before nodding. Moving over, she unlocked the bar - but not the handcuffs.

Still, the prisoner moved her hands, rotating her wrists. "What did happen?"

With a heavy sigh, Cassandra helped the prisoner to her feet. "It — will be easier to show you."

The guards opened the doors, letting a rush of cold air in. Burying her face in her scarf, the prisoner looked at the snowy mountaintops and dark grey sky. A bright green tear in the sky illuminated the ominous clouds and swirling snow. Her eyes widened and mouth fell open.

"We call it the 'breach'. It's a massive rift into the worlds of demons that grows larger with each passing hour." Cassandra's words were heavy. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"An explosion can do that?"

Her face turned grim. "This one did. Unless we act the breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Suddenly the rift erupted, a magnetic force pulled her hand up towards the sky. With a scream, the woman fell to the snow unable to control the mark.

"Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads... And it's killing you."

With a gulp, the prisoner looked up to Cassandra's outreached hand before taking it.

Eyeing the mark Cassandra continued, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

Breathing deeply, the woman nodded her head. "I understand."

"Then?"

The snow swirled around the pair. "I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes." She placed her bound hands into Cassandra's, who lifted her up. With a nod the two women began crossing the bridge, moving towards the gates.


The hilt of the dagger met the back of the pride demon, it's final cries echoing through the mountains. Sweat and blood dripped off of the woman's face, as she ripped the blade out. It fell heavy to her side, before slipping from her grasp.

Before she could catch her breath, Cassandra screamed at her. "Now! Seal the rift!" She raised her hand into the air like the elven apostate had shown her before. The magnetic force began pulling the rift towards her. "Do it!" Cassandra screamed again.

The crowd surrounding her began to cower away — unsure of what was going to happen. A scream ripped through the air haunting them. With a huge boom, the tear was swallowed whole, the sky suddenly empty of the green light.

A thud and scatter on the rocks below caused Cassandra to look down. "Oh no." She hurried over to the unconscious body laying on the ground, the green light of the mark flickering out. "We need to get her back to Haven." She said, her lips pursed in concern.


Gloved knuckles knocked on the table, the sound echoing through the wood. A man was hunched over it, blankly staring at the map that laid upon the table. With a sigh he took one of the markers into his hand, squeezing it in his palm. It had been hours since Leliana and Cassandra had left. The explosion from the Conclave had sent everyone in Haven into a panic. The Commander had opted to stay behind, to protect the people of Haven in case of another tear. Instead, sending out the best of his soldiers to follow Cassandra and Leliana. He did not regret his decision, but staying here in the dark was killing him. Their whereabouts, the culprit, the potential outcome were all unknown to him.

He placed the marker back down onto the map with a slam, just as the large ornate doors to the war room were opened. A slim, dark-haired woman stood behind them, a gentle smile on her face. "Am I interrupting anything Commander?" Her Antivan accent was thick.

A polite smile was forced upon his face, "No, Josephine. Come in."

Josephine watched as he rubbed his jaw roughly, grabbing his chin in thought. "Getting tired of waiting too?"

"I would feel better if I had the slightest idea of what happened."

Letting out a sigh, she pulled out a chair to sit in. "Me too. But Cassandra and Leliana know what they are doing, though. You sent out your best squad."

"It's not them I'm concerned about." He rubbed his temples. His ears perked up when he heard the Chantry doors open. Then the faint voices of the sisters and the scuffle of feet. Throwing open the doors, he raced into the other room.

"Cullen!" Cassandra ran towards him, her hand grabbing onto his forearm.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?" Cullen's eyes panicked. He looked over her shoulder, watching a group of soldiers carrying a stretcher. "Who is that?"

"The prisoner — well not really, but... yes. The 'prisoner'." She stumbled over her words, obviously riddled with multiple thoughts.

"The prisoner? They caused the explosion?"

"There is more to it than that!" Leliana appeared, joining the conversation. "There is much to tell you. But for now, we need to get her a healer."

"Her?" Cullen was taken aback. "It was a woman?"

Cassandra nodded. "We will explain it all in a moment. Solas! Come with us." The two women ran down the stairs to the basement, waving the elven mage to join them. Cullen watched as the men carrying the stretcher maneuvered their way down the stairs. What in the heavens is going on?


"So... the Divine is dead." The words were barely audible on Josephine's lips. She was staring at the stone floor, still in shock.

"All of those people." Cullen shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. His heart had started climbing up his throat as he listened to Cassandra's recall of the events.

"That woman, though... She cannot be at fault. She would not have closed the tears if she caused the explosion intentionally. There's more to this than just her." Josephine stood up, using her hands as she spoke.

"I agree. The Herald has been falsely accused." Leliana spoke for the first time in the conversation.

Cullen remained seated, staring at his folded hands on the table. "Does this woman have a name? Other than the prisoner?

"Ashlyn Trevelyan," Cassandra said, her arms crossed.

"Trevelyan? They are nobles from the Free Marches." Josephine's eyes lit up.

"She did not use a title when introducing herself. But we must find out more about her." She waited before acknowledging the other two, "You know what to do girls."

Leliana and Josephine slipped away, both whispering to each other in a new found glee at their task.

"I'm going to check on Adan and Solas in the cells." Cassandra breathed, her exhaustion obvious.

"I can go, if you wish to rest." Cullen tried his best to hide his curiosity.

She blinked heavily, her lashes hitting her cheeks. "I think rest would be... most beneficial at the moment. I have lots to consider." She squeezed his forearm in silent thanks before turning to leave for her cabin.

Adjusting his cloak, the Commander began his descent to the basement, the bottoms of the fur just barely trailing over the stone floor. The torches flickered as he moved past them, following the long hallway until he reached the prison. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly light room.

All of the torches were lit, and candles were set up on every surface but still, the room was dingy and dark. It was a prison after all - so it was to be expected. His eyes moved to the cell at the back of the room, where an elf and a human stood, hovering over something.

"Ahem." Neither of them moved. "Um, it's Commander Cullen. I've come to check on the prisoner — Ashlyn?"

Solas' ears perked, and he turned around to look through the bars. "Ah, Commander Cullen. Come take a seat." The men moved awkwardly about in the small cell until they were all finally arranged in their new spots. Solas sat at the end of the cot, jotting down notes on the margins of a book. The healer Adan had moved out of the cell, rummaging through his satchel. While the Commander sat directly next to the woman.

Cullen looked at her for the first time. She was still unconscious, not responding to any of the treatments as of yet. But she looked very serene in her slumber. The flickering wicks of the candles cast shadows of her long lashes down her high cheekbones. Freckles dusted her nose that had a thick scar running down the middle of it. Full, dark lips were just slightly parted, the smallest noise coming from them. He noticed bruising developing under her eye and a slash running up to her temple. Brown hair was fanned out beneath her head, sticking to her neck — still covered in blood, dirt and sweat. So you are Ashlyn. You don't look like a criminal to me.

He looked down at her left hand that was hanging off the edge of the cot. Her fingers were like stone, frozen in a bent shape and dark blue veins popped out of her wrist. Her hand twitched slightly, cause Cullen to jump.

"It's been doing that. The mark reacting, unfortunately - not her." Solas spoke, before returning to his writing.

Cullen's eyes wandered, looking at the cell. "She shouldn't be in here. She is no prisoner." He stood up, his chair scraping on the floor. "She proved her innocence to us by closing the breach."

The elf placed his quill as a mark and closed the book on his lap. He then looked up at the Commander, waiting.

"The rest of her healing will continue in my cabin. She deserves a proper space, and you two need more to work with than this."

The pair couldn't argue with that. After some huffing and clunky movements, Adan and Cullen had either end of the stretcher - while Solas carried what medicine and supplies he could. The group clumsily moved Ashlyn up the stairs and out of the Chantry. Not without some bystanders watching mouths agape. At first, Cullen thought it was because of the precarious situation they were watching. But then he realized it was because of her.

Inside his cabin, the men softly picked up Ashlyn and laid her on the bed, on top of the sheets. "Will this do?" Cullen asked, picking and pulling at the sheets nervously.

Adan stretched his arms out, enjoying their new found space. "Oh yes. This will work."

"Where will you go though Commander?" Solas asked, his mouth almost turning into a frown.

"I'm sure there's a spare tent around." Cullen tried to hide his grimace. "It's no problem — we need her to get better. We have questions for her." Looking around, he noticed a few things that he should take with him. He grabbed the leather sack hanging off of his desk chair, carelessly shoving in clothes. "Right, well I'll leave you to it." Turning on his heels, Cullen went to leave when he noticed his journal on the table. He tucked it under his arm, before nodding and heading back out into the snow.

An odd sensation was running through him. Homelessness? Cullen laughed silently at his own thought. It shouldn't prove to be a problem finding somewhere for him to sleep. Her? He gulped — she did have a strange presence, even when unconscious. Perhaps it was merely the mystery surrounding her. Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he began to trudge back through the snow to the chantry.

Once inside he shook his hair of the white flakes, before running his fingers through it. Before he had even moved one more foot, a blur ran towards him blocking his path. Hands were flying in every direction as a panicked Antivan voice shouted, "She's gone! The Herald is gone! I went to check on the healers and.. and.."

A chuckle escaped Cullen's pink lips - unable to hold back his laughter as he watched Josephine freak out. "Relax. I put her up in my cabin to allow more space for the healers to work. That cell was... not very hospitable."

Josephine threw her hand up in the air as if to hit him. "Maker's breath, why didn't you tell me that? I thought Cassandra was going to have a conniption."

"Speaking of which we need to gather the council. Ashlyn Trevelyan and this situation need to be discussed further." His tone was very serious.

"Of course. I'll go find them." Josephine's shiny black hair swayed as she walked away from the Commander, her shoulders set back and chin high.


"Ashlyn Trevelyan is 30 years old — the youngest of Bann Trevelyan's children, as well as his only daughter." Josephine read of the scroll in front of her, slender fingers following her loopy handwriting as she spoke. Usually, the council would be scratching at the wooden table or gazing out of the window as they listened to Josephine drone on about another noble. But today everyone's ears were perked as they waited to learn more about their new guest.

"She was the first and only Trevelyan to openly deny Templar recruitment and any Chantry involvement. Her older brothers, Reed and Wesley, were both recruited by the Templars at a young age, serving in Kirkwall..." Her voice trailed off as she read ahead. "After both were killed in the Kirkwall Chantry explosion in 9:37," Her eyes flickered over to Cullen, waiting for his reaction. He had his eyes fixed on the grain of the table, looking at the complex knots as he listened. "It was rumored that Ashlyn broke off her engagement before running away from her family estate to never return. That's all the information I could verify. Everything else was tavern gossip."

"Tavern gossip about her being a mercenary." Leliana interrupted, glee playing on her lips.

"That explains her combat skills," Cassandra muttered. She had been very focused on her thoughts while Josephine spoke. Her thin brows had been furrowed together, her lips pressed into a hard line. "I will admit that I was mistaken when accusing this woman of killing the Divine. But still, she is a mystery to us."

"A mystery indeed." Cullen finally spoke, his voice hoarse.

"We must explain this to the people. Put their minds at rest." Leliana spoke, pushing her hood up from out of her eyes. "I've heard their whispers - they do not know if they should fear or regard this woman. They must know she is their savior."

"I agree," Josephine said with a stern nod. Clutching her clipboard, she asked if she could prepare a speech.

"Alright," Cassandra said warily. "Make it simple — we've had enough complication for one day."