Surviving Circumstance

Chapter Eight

     "Are you sure you won't come with us to seal the Breach?" Christopher asked, knowing she wouldn't change her mind. Raven turned to look at him standing in the doorway; her hair was down and covering part of her face, but he could see her smile before she stood up from her seat and slowly make her way over to him. All he could do was stare at her when she stopped within arms reach of him. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted to or if he could get away with it, rather. She didn't seem to like people unexpectedly touching her.

     "Everything will be fine. You don't need me there," she replied while doing her best to sound like everything was okay. It wasn't the Breach she was worried about but what came afterwards that had her stomach in knots.

     "I'd still like you to be," he said softly and paused, the words her future self had whispered to him a week ago still in his mind. There was so much he wanted to ask her about what she knew would happen and how she could possibly have that information; she could've meant anything by saying people would need him. After all, she'd experienced events of a future he had only heard about so there was no telling what else she'd seen and dealt with.

     "I'll be here when you get back. I hear there's going to be a celebration." She tried changing the subject. Christopher could see it, but he decided to humor her.

     "Will you save a dance for me?" He heard himself ask and was rewarded with another smile from her. In the week since Redcliffe Christopher had done his best to not let on that he knew something, anything, was likely to happen after the Breach was sealed. It was hard keeping the secret that the future Raven had told him. If she was right, the Raven standing in front of him at that exact moment couldn't tell him what was to happen and how could he bring up that subject, anyway? He would have to trust her and somehow that notion wasn't difficult to accomplish.

     "I'd love to," she accepted and he was surprised when she reached out and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "It'll give me a break from dancing with Varric and Sera." Christopher could feel the confusion grow on his face and it caused her to chuckle.

     "You're quite popular," he observed and she only shrugged.

     "It's not like I try to be. That's actually the very last thing I want. Like, ever." She told him, her smile fading as she stared into his eyes, "But I can't help it if Sera wants my... 'lady bits' as she so eloquently called them and it's impossible to turn down Varric with his charm." Christopher could tell she was joking, the humor in her voice gave it away.

     "By 'charm' do you mean his chest hair?" He retorted and was happy to hear her laugh.

     "Isn't it the same thing?" Before he could answer she pulled her hand back. "You should head up to the breach, Herald. You have work to do and I'll see you later." It had been a long time since he'd been dismissed by a woman younger and tinier than him and he wanted to make a witty retort but was at a loss for words. He watched her as she turned and went back to her chair, secluded from everyone else. With a small sigh he turned and left the Chantry and made his way to Cassandra and Solas. It was going to be a long night.

     It seemed like forever before she heard Christopher's footsteps receding and, when they were gone completely, Raven let out a sigh. It wasn't as if she liked playing the antisocial card-even though she proved to be very good at it-but her stomach was turning and it felt like she was going to be sick. In the last week she'd done everything in her power outside of her normal routine to prepare for the attack. The mine Christopher would drop down into now had some padding to lessen the hard impact, a blanket, and a mixture of health and lyrium potions. The trebuchets worked perfectly, boxes were moved out of the way of doors the best she could make them, and vantage points were easy to get to, but she was still restless. People would die tonight. Whether it would be few or many depended on what she knew and how much she'd done, but she couldn't see telling any of the advisors going over well. She would be gutted like a fish if she went to any of them, but she couldn't sit around and wait for the attack. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. Her father had always taught her to make the right choice even if it was the hardest, but who would ever believe her and then not accuse her of being a spy-or worse-once it was all over? Her mind wandered to the people she'd come to know over the last couple months, the people she'd come to love and care about.