Chapter Text
Papa,
I’m not dead! I’m sure news of the tragedy at the conclave has spread, and I had to write you right away to let you know. I don’t have the time to explain right now, but please let everyone know I’m safe. I promise to send a follow-up letter soon.
Your Scarlet
[A near-identical letter follows this one, addressed to 'Kitty' in Redcliffe Village.]
Pumpkin,
You will never know the depth of my relief when I received your letter. When we learned of the conclave, an unspeakable fear gripped me; it was a father’s worst nightmare. I’ve never seen Grace lose her composure the way she did, or Jamison fall to his knees and pray. But I dared to hope, and it seems the Maker has smiled upon us.
Where are you? Have you returned to Redcliffe with your fellow mages? How did you escape the blast? We can see the tear in the sky even from here, and I can only imagine what it must look like up close.
Please write back soon, my darling. I love you always.
Your Loving Father
[An additional note is scrawled on the back:]
Your mother wept, both when we thought you were dead and when we learned you weren’t. Write to her, my dear. She loves you.
Scarling,
Fenedhis, you scared the life out of me! But if anyone could make it out of there alive, I’m not at all surprised it was you. Still, it must have been awful. Are you okay?? You must tell me everything!
Things have been…tense, here. The villagers are keeping to themselves more, shooting us dirty looks, whispering amongst themselves. I think they believe we’re responsible for the explosion and the Divine’s death. Maybe not US personally, of course, but you know what I mean. What if they drive us out of Redcliffe? Where else can we go? The fighting is getting worse out there, the templars become a greater threat every day.
And Scar…what of First Enchanter Jarrian? There isn’t any chance you escaped together, is there?
I pray you are well, and find your way back to us soon. It’s too quiet here without you.
Kitty
Sweet Apple,
What’s this nonsense I’ve been hearing? “The Herald of Andraste?” Everybody is talking about it. They say Andraste herself guided you out of the Fade—the physical Fade itself, as if such a thing were even possible. It can’t be true, can it? You know how such balderdash spreads. Still, I do wonder how you could have survived such devastation. Perhaps Andraste truly has blessed you.
We would all appreciate an update, my darling. The rumors are growing more ridiculous by the day. Next they’ll say you sprouted a pair of green Fade-wings and flew to safety on Andraste’s back.
Also, what’s this about an Inquisition? You aren’t a part of this, are you? Please write back soon, pumpkin.
Your Very Confused Father
Little Red,
People have been saying the most interesting things about my most beloved little sister. Is it true Andraste gave you a piggy-back ride through the Fade? My favorite part is the bit about the golden nug.
Seriously, I’m eating this up over here, but an update would be nice. You’re still alive, right? Circle “Y” if yes, or “N” if you’re a filthy liar who lies.
Your Favorite Brother,
Jamie
[Below, there is a large “Y” and a smaller “N” with the notation to “Circle one.”]
P.S. He’ll never admit it, but Wes was worried sick about you. He claimed he was only mourning the loss of so many templars, but we all knew he was just as distraught as the rest of us about his baby sister. Don’t worry, I won’t let him live it down.
Kitty,
I’m so sorry I haven’t written back sooner. There’s just so much to say, and I don’t even know where to begin…although I suppose the beginning is probably a good place to begin, usually.
The conclave was a grand affair. There were so many people there, Kit. Mages like us, First Enchanters, rebel apostates, templars, seekers, chantry clerics, and of course, the Divine herself.
They’re all dead, now. All of them. Jarrian, too. I’m the only one who made it out alive, and to be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure how to deal with that. It doesn’t help that I can’t remember a thing about the explosion, or the Breach, or any of the nonsense they’re saying about me. The first thing I remember is waking up in a dungeon, because of course I was their prime suspect. Why wouldn’t I be?
But they took me to the Breach, and I managed to—wait, I should back up. It seems like the explosion did have some effect on me: I’ve got this mark on my hand, sort of like a scar, but…glowing. Green. Almost alive, in a way, if that makes any sense? Maker, what am I saying, of course it doesn’t. But it’s given me this power that’s like magic but not magic at all. Basically, I can use it to close rifts in the veil…? Honestly, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
So they brought me back to the Breach, and the mark on my hand was able to calm it, at least temporarily. And now I guess they trust me? Most of them, anyway.
Oh—I should explain who “they” is, shouldn’t I? Has word of the Inquisition spread to Redcliffe yet? It’s hard to explain, but the important part is that they’re the only ones who seem to be doing anything about fixing the Maker-damned hole in the sky. And thanks to this absurd mark on my hand, it looks like they could really use my help…so it looks like I’m stuck here, for now.
But I suppose it isn’t so bad, even if there are more demons than I’d prefer. It feels really good to actually be out in the world, doing some good. There are some good people here, too. There’s an elven apostate who has the most interesting view of the Fade, I think you’d really enjoy chatting with him. And have you ever read Hard in Hightown, or Tales of the Champion? Looks like their author is going to be one of my travelling companions. He’s funny, I like him already.
Right, didn’t mention that yet. They’re sending me on a mission to the Hinterlands, we’re leaving tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll have the time to make a stop in Redcliffe! For now, I should really get some rest…but I’d better write to my family first. I can only imagine how they’re going to take all this.
All my love,
Scarlet
Jamie,
Actually, we played leapfrog. Her high jump is especially impressive for a thousand-year-old woman.
Read the letter I wrote Papa, I’m too lazy to copy it a third time.
Your Favorite Little Sister,
Scarlet
[Enclosed is a lengthy letter to Bann Trevelyan, as well as Jamie’s original letter. Next to the ‘Y’ and ‘N’ a third letter has been added and circled: “P, for probably.”]