The finale of a three part series exploring other choices on its fate of Thedas.
Cold and mid morning, Smoke drifted lazily from the remnants of the Rutherford home. No longer lit in flames, the residual embers met the still and frozen air, under turned by Mara’s wary feet.
There was nothing. Wooden beams turned to ash, the siding crumbled, cracked, and discarded. There were no distinguishable possessions...Everything had parished... and perhaps everyone.
Mara stifled a cry, her mouth opened and guard fallen.
“If you’re looking to loot, there’s nothing left.”
Mara and Leliana both turned as a silent bystander had watched the two approach the remains of the home.
His voice and features were rough, weathered. A worn man of at least his mid 40’s, overshadowing a pre-teen boy who stood just behind.
There was a kindness to his eyes behind his calloused look. She’d recognized those features anywhere. “Branson?” Mara asked gently. She had only met their sisters, but there was a distinct Rutherford look in his tired features. She watched as Branson stiffened, untrusting of the two women who stood before their fallen family home. “I’m Inquisitor Lavellan. And this is my colleague Leliana.”
His eyes softened some as he looked to Mara, her pointed ears, her Vallaslin free face, the staff strapped to her back. Branson looked back to his son, then to Mara. A heavy sigh left him. “Will my boy be safe if we talk?”
“Yes.” Mara and Leliana answered in unison.
Branson turned to his son, whispered he’ll be back shortly, then turned and started walking west. Mara followed him, stopping about 100 feet away from his son and Leliana.
“I’m guessing you have something to do with all of this.” His tone was hurt, jaded, but his voice carried quietly.
Mara remained silent but looked to him with compassion. His grief fluttered through the air.
“Last night when I came home, the house was engulfed in flames. The house had to have been burning for hours...” His eyes turned to the ground.
Mara waited for the answers that would break her.
“They were home.” Branson looked back up to Mara, whose eyes were full and misty. “The fire took them.”
Death had followed Mara over the years. Thousands passed, out of war, bravery, justice, innocence, or victimization. And now, two more souls died in her name. Fast tears rolled down her face, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.
“Who did this?” Scorned, vindicated. He had to know.
Drawing a breath, she answered softly. “Enemies. They’re targeting our families.” Another sniff as she challenged to take a breath. “We’ve traveled for days to get to you.”
“They took my family!” Branson shouted his words, cutting into the guilt that Mara already held. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted someone for whom he could channel his anger.
And she allowed it. If she could carry this burden and relieve him, she would always choose this. “I’m so sorry.”
He could see her guilt, and he could see what his siblings saw in her. He shook his head, pacing in spot for a minute before speaking.
“I remember they wouldn’t shut up about you when Cullen brought you home. It was all I heard for months... Inquisitor this, Inquisitor that... I had always been weary of his choice to join you. But how my family loved you...” Branson teetered in emotions of blame. “They’re gone because of your cause.”
Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/60959113
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