Chapter Text
Silence.
Well, it’s not entirely silent, there’s a deafening ringing in her ears that was slowly fading as her senses came back. Lilya was lying flat on her back, dazed.
What just happened? Where am I? Am I alive, or dead? Is this the fade or...?
She tried to parse out the answers to those questions while she laid there, catching her breath. Her vision came back first, going from staunch white to a white she could understand – a cloudy sky, but breaks in the clouds showed that it was blue.
Okay, not the fade.
As feeling comes back to her body, she sits up. Her body feels tired and sore, with numbness nipping the tips of her fingers, toes, and ears. It’s cold, and wet.
Cold, wet... snow. Snow?!
Last she remembered, Bellara was taken by Elgar’nan and Harding had died to give them a chance to slay Ghilan’nain for good. Lilya then tried to reclaim the lyrium dagger and then was sucked into Solas’ prison. He tricked her, reclaimed the dagger, and just left her there. She was trapped there for who knows how long reliving her regrets, witnessing Varric’s death, talking to him (or his spirit, more like it), before he guides her to a portal out of that prison. And now, she was here – wherever here is.
Gods, Varric was dead, the whole time; Solas killed him – his FRIEND. Varric believed in him, tried to talk to him and –
She blinks back tears – can't think about that right now she thinks, steeling herself. She slowly stands up and leans against a tree next to her. She takes in her surroundings; It’s a mountainous area, laden with pine trees and snow. There’s a small stream that is partially frozen, and a couple nugs scavenging through the snow nearby. Lilya cannot yet determine the time of day, but she’s just grateful it isn’t night – yet.
Lilya checks herself for any injuries, but finds no cuts, scrapes, nor bruises under the dirt and grime – and yet, she feels like absolute hammered shit.
Ugh – must be a side effect of all this gods-forsaken fade travelling...
The ringing in her ears has subsided, but she still doesn’t hear much of anything. The nugs will occasionally snort and squeal, and there are some birds chirping away through the bitter cold, but there are no sounds indicating that people are close by.
Okay, but... didn’t a hand pull me through the portal? I thought I heard Emmrich and Taash... Where are they? Are they okay?
Lilya tries calling for them, but her throat is so dry and hoarse that she can barely get a sound out. The nugs scatter at the mangled sound that leaves her lips.
Shit.
Scanning the snow, she sees no footprints leading to or from where she currently is.
Okay... No footprints, weird. But also, no blood – good? Maybe they had to leave me to find shelter and their tracks were snowed over... They’ll come back for me, right?
She ponders that thought for a moment, sighs, and runs her hand through her hair. Lilya can admit to herself she wasn’t the best leader, as some nobody Watcher from Nevarra, but she was the only one stepping up. She had fucked up a lot while leading the Veilguard team, with her ‘punch first and ask questions later’ attitude. This tunnel vision had caused the deaths of her friends and royally screwed them on some missions; But what was that Prison of Regrets for if not giving her a chance to reflect on her actions, her deepest regrets, her failures? It was hard but as she made her way through that prison, she vowed to be better – a better friend, a better leader, a better person. This was her second chance, a way to make things right with her team, and the world. But she can’t wait around and hope, she needs to get somewhere warm and dry.
Slow down, breathe in, breathe out, don’t let these thoughts spiral out of control.
Just then, she spies her pack and staff under the tree. She scrambles over to it, hoping she remembered to pack her travel coat or gloves. The cold was starting to get to her, and she was dressed for Minrathous, not for a jaunt to Kal-Sharok. Lilya pulls out her black and gold traveling coat and quickly puts it on over her hooded mage tunic, cinching it the best she can with her clumsy, numb fingers. She digs more and finds her staff gloves – thin but better than nothing.
She takes stock of her belongings to make sure nothing of importance was lost between travelling from Minrathous to the fade and then to wherever she is now. Her staff was in good condition, no obvious signs of damage, and her dagger was chipped at the tip and scuffed up bad, but still usable for stabbing or cutting.
Her sentimental items that she refuses to go without are all intact, thankfully; A feather for good luck from Assan, a carved and painted cat (something Davrin taught her), her baby blanket that she was found with (for comfort during those sleepless nights), and her journal (packed with her thoughts, feelings, favorite recipes, various sketches, and some letters from Myrna and Vorgoth – yet somehow there’s still room for more). She also carries a couple books for reading material, to keep her mind off things; A copy of ‘All This Shit is Weird’ that Varric gifted her (she never got to ask him or the Inquisitor how truthful this novel really was), and a salacious romance novel that she wouldn’t be caught dead reading in public. Mythal’s gods-forsaken idol was still in there – something that Morrigan urged her to retrieve, as a back-up plan.
What a pain in the ass that fight was – these ‘gods’ are so full of themselves, can’t even see it in themselves to stop the end of the world... She grumbles and shoves it back in her pack.
At the bottom of her bag, she even manages to find a full potion and some of her rations – half of a slightly stale loaf of bread, some dried fruits, her waterskin, and – she gasps – CHOCOLATE. She would save that for later, for celebration, when she slays Elgar’nan.
She goes back to her dagger, a gift she received from Vorgoth when she was about 10 (what were they thinking), and studies it some more, thinking of how she’ll fix it up. She hooks it to her belt and slings her pack over her shoulder, preparing to stand back up and head out, when she sees a blue glow coming from where her pack had sat. She kicks at the snow and uncovers something unexpected.
Shit – Solas’ dagger! Wait... but... he took it back when he left me in the fade prison...
She passes it from hand to hand, turning it over, bringing it close to her face and inspecting it thoroughly. She can feel the magic, pure lyrium, flowing through it, emanating from it, leeching into her body. It’s nauseating.
Well, it’s definitely the real thing...
She tucks it carefully into her bag, not wanting to keep it too close to her person.
Must be experiencing some memory loss... How much did I forget after leaving the prison... I should probably get oriented, find some civilization, and maybe get checked out by a healer before I lose all my marbles...
Lilya takes a swig from her waterskin. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Can this world stop doing weird shit to me for 5 minutes...” She says with a dry chuckle as she starts off towards the water.