#jellys core is just made using the magic from the core of a fallen star rest of him is gelatin

[faefrosting]

My fursona and his boyfriend from the stars

[daihell]

In your heart shall burn

Pain. It blocked out all else, engulfing Elden until there was nothing, until he was nothing. It felt like an eternity, like he had never known anything but this. Eventually it subsided enough for him to feel the cold hard ground beneath him and he focused on that, and on the cold wind biting at his face, just trying to hold onto anything other than the agony. Slowly the memory of who he was, of what he had just survived, returned. Honestly he was surprised he was alive at all, what with the avalanche and the dragon and the Elder One. Corypheus.

He forced his eyes open and he could see a faint light far above him, but it took a long moment before his vision cleared enough to make out the hole in the ceiling of the cave above him. That’s right, he’d fallen right before the avalanche hit. It was a miracle he hadn’t been buried. He had to close his eyes again as his vision blurred and nausea nearly overwhelmed him. He just laid there, feeling so tired. He didn’t have the energy to move, which was probably for the best. He doubted his battered body would have responded anyway. He never wanted to get up again.

He didn’t deserve to.

After the Conclave he’d been living on borrowed time, watching so many good people die. He didn’t know why he alone had survived but he just wanted to help. He didn’t want everyone to have died in vain. It hadn’t mattered of course. It was only right that it end here for him, alone and in agony. This was all his fault, after all. He had helped bring them all together, practically led the way to their deaths. They were all counting on him and he’d watched so many of them cut down in front of him.

He just hoped he had given those remaining enough time to escape. Even if they had, that dragon was still out there. And that amy of Red Templars. Then there was everything Corypheus had told him. And the others had no idea. They didn’t know what they were up against, they didn’t know who the Elder One was or what he was trying to accomplish. Elden wasn’t smart or clever, he didn’t know if the information would even be useful, but what if Leliana could use it somehow? He thought of everyone, how hard they had all fought to save the world, the kindness and support they had shown him, the passion and determination through it all and the way they had stood their ground despite the fear when it was all falling apart around them. Elden couldn’t let it end here.

He forced himself to sit up, his vision exploding into stars as the pain engulfed him again. He doubled over, trying to hold onto his consciousness as he sat there, taking shaky gasping breaths and trying to focus. He wasn’t the chosen one, he was nothing, but if he could still help his companions, his friends, he couldn’t stop now. As long as there was a chance Elden couldn’t rest. Each breath ripped through his lungs causing a stabbing pain in his chest and he knew he had broken ribs. No doubt he had a concussion too. He only paused long enough for his vision to steady before he tried to look himself over, to take stock of his injuries.

Blood was seeping through where the plates of his armor had bent inward, piercing his side. That had to have happened during the fall. His right arm was broken in several places but at least he still had some control over his left, although it ached badly after the way Corypheus had thrown him around. His back throbbed in pain and he had bruises everywhere, the agony making it difficult to tell if he had broken anything else.

He should examine himself more thoroughly, perhaps remove his armor and stop the bleeding, but he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. He suspected his armor was the only thing holding him together at this point and if he lost consciousness now he might not wake up again. He needed to get out of here.

There was no leaving the way he had come in. Debris and snow had covered most of the hole but he wasn’t in any shape to climb anyway. He’d have to go further into the cave and hope it came out somewhere. His shield had landed beside him, thankfully, and he grabbed it, using it to haul himself up to his feet.

His vision blurred again with the movement and every muscle in his body screamed in protest but somehow he managed to make it to his feet. He staggered, just trying to stay upright, his legs feeling like jelly and his back nearly giving out. He felt nauseous again but somehow managed to swallow it down. He only gave himself a moment before he pushed forward. He could barely see the path before him and he leaned heavily against the wall as he went, trying to ignore the way the metal of his armor sliced deeper into his side with each step.

He had no real sense of time. All he knew was that he had to keep going forward. He couldn’t help but think of the people of Haven. They believed Elden had been sent by the Maker himself and he felt a sick weight in his stomach, knowing that that couldn’t be true and that their deaths were on his shoulders. So many were here to follow him, were willing to answer to him, and this is where he had led them; to an indefensible little chantry in the freezing mountains where they were doomed to die. He wondered how many had gotten away, if the avalanche had even helped. That dragon was still out there. What if it was even now picking off survivors? Elden just hoped that, if nothing else, he could provide another distraction.

The air was getting colder, a breeze blowing past him and freezing him to his core, and he prayed it meant he was getting close. Then, as he rounded a corner, he saw it—the mouth of the cave, his way out. Moonlight was spilling into the cavern but he could see nothing but white outside. He picked up his pace, desperate to get out, to find the others, but he only made it a few steps before pain suddenly shot through the mark and green light flashed before him. His entire arm was pure agony and he staggered, trying desperately to keep his footing, as several demons materialized before him. He’d lost his sword when he had fallen and he could barely grip his shield; there was no winning this fight. He didn’t have the strength left. All he could do was crouch behind his shield, wincing as a barrage of magical energy nearly knocked him off his feet.

As it often did these days, he found his mind wandering to Dorian. They had survived the end of the world together, but Elden had only succeeded in leading him to another one. He should have gone back home to Tevinter when he had the chance. Dorian could have done so much good there. But of course he wouldn’t. Dorian was a good man, he couldn’t stand back and watch as the world tore itself apart. Elden admired him greatly. He’d wanted to do the same, to fight til the end. He didn’t want to die here like this, knowing his friends were in danger and there was nothing he could do to protect them.

The mark on his left hand crackled suddenly, drawing his attention and, somehow, Elden knew exactly what to do. He reached up, his arm in agony, fist clenched around the mark, and it exploded. It ripped a hole into the fade and for a moment he was terrified that he had created a rift. Green energy snaked out and he shielded his eyes as it flashed almost painfully bright. The demons shrieked as they were torn apart and dragged back into the fade and, just as quickly as it had started, the rift closed itself and all was silent.

Elden stood there for a dumbfounded moment, just staring at the place the demons had been, then at his hand, before he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. It was terrifying the amount of power the mark held. What would the others say when they found out? It was unsettling enough that he had been able to close rifts and no one could explain how, and now it seemed to be developing, becoming more powerful. What else could it do that Elden hadn’t discovered yet? Could it pose a danger? Maker, if none of the mages could figure it out, Elden had no hope of doing so.

His way out was clear now, though, and there was no point it dwelling. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about any of this anyway. He doubted he’d make it out of this alive. He used his shield to haul himself back up to his feet again and began trudging forward. As soon as he stepped through the mouth of the cave, the bitingly cold wind nearly knocked him off his feet. He lifted his shield as best he could, trying to block the wind as it tore at his face and exposed skin and he looked around, unsure which way to go. He wasn’t even sure where he had come out.

He could hardly see anything through the heavy snowfall but there was nothing around for miles. If he just started walking blindly chances were good he’d die long before he got anywhere. Then again, he wouldn’t last for more than a few minutes if he stopped moving now. He wasn’t sure if it was sparks behind his eyes or if he actually saw a light in the distance, but he didn’t really have any other options so Elden followed it, hoping it was the Inquisition and not burning Haven or the enemy soldiers.

The wind whipped past him, making his eyes burn, water, and freeze. He could barely see and had no idea how far he’d gone when he nearly tripped over a fragment of wood. Looking around the side of his shield he saw a broken cart, frozen bodies already mostly buried under the snow and his heart sank. Had they been intercepted and killed? One cart didn’t mean everyone had died, but who knows what the snow had already covered. His heart sank and he closed his eyes, giving a silent apology, wishing he could bury them properly. Wishing he could have saved them. If there was any chance at all that others could be out there, though, he had to keep going.

He couldn’t help but picture all of them, terrified and hunted. It kept him going, knowing that if he could still be of use he had to find them. It at least distracted him from his freezing limbs. He couldn’t feel his feet or his right arm at all now and he wasn’t sure that was any better than the stabbing pain. His left arm, by contrast, burned with the heat of the mark. Not that he could use it to warm himself. He doubted it was real heat burning him, just the fade tearing at the nerves or something. He couldn’t feel his face either, his lungs freezing with each shallow intake of breath and it was all he could do to stop himself from coughing.

He spotted a campfire ahead between a few scraggly trees and he nearly fell in his haste to reach it. He dropped to his knees beside it and reached out, but it had long since cooled. This might not even have been lit today. It could have belonged to a scout who had come this way weeks ago. Maker, was he even going in the right direction? It was almost too much and he thought about just staying there, lying down and closing his eyes  so he could finally rest, but of course he couldn’t. He sighed and dragged himself back to his feet, allowing himself to lean against a tree for a moment before continuing.

Elden was far above the tree line now, the snow thick and heavy and the wind unrestricted as it ripped past him. Each step was exhausting as he sunk back down above the knee. He didn’t have the strength to keep his shield raised before him any longer and just did his best to keep his grip on it. The only thought he could hold onto in his clouded mind was that he had to keep going, just a little farther. He wasn’t even looking where he was going anymore, just clinging to his shield as he pushed on. It surprised him when he happened to glance up and saw the steep mountains jutting up before him. There was an opening between them and, without anywhere else to go except back, he headed for it. He was so cold and tired, and as the shield slipped from his numb hand he knew he couldn’t make it much farther.

This time the fire he spotted still had cooling embers that hadn’t yet been smothered by the snow and he nearly sobbed in relief. At least someone had made it. Maker, please just keep them safe. It didn’t matter what happened to him as long as they were safe. He continued on a few more steps but his legs just couldn’t hold him up anymore and he collapsed to his knees. It was right that he should die here. If they were safe, they wouldn’t need him any longer. Cassandra or one of the others could handle it. Now that the rift was closed hopefully they wouldn’t need the mark any longer. They wouldn’t need him any longer.

He heard someone call out to him and he squinted, trying to focus through the wind and snow and his own spinning vision. He thought he saw Cassandra and Cullen, perhaps a few others, running towards him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t call out. He could only fall forward as he blacked out, so relieved that they were alive.

Dorian felt exceedingly out of place. He’d just happened to be passing by in front of the tent they’d taken the Herald into some hours before when the healer poked his head out and waved him over. Now Dorian found himself sitting by the Herald’s bedside while the healer was off doing who knows what. They must be truly desperate to ask the Tevinter of all people to keep watch over their Herald. No doubt Cassandra would be furious when she found out.

Dorian supposed it was his own fault. That wasn’t exactly the first time he’d circled back as an excuse to walk in front of the tent, hoping to get a look in to see if the Herald was even still alive. There were so many dead or dying, it was a miracle Elden had made it all that way through the snow alone. It would be a shame if he died now after all that.

That wasn’t the only reason he’d been so desperate to see the Herald of course, but Dorian wasn’t sure he wanted to look too closely at his own feelings on the matter. It was unsettling, the thrill of hope and relief he’d felt when he’d heard they’d found the Herald. He told himself it was only because he had seen the bleak future that awaited them without this man, but that had nothing to do with it. He’d wanted nothing more than to run to Elden’s side and remain there for the foreseeable future.

And now Dorian had gotten his wish, but he hadn’t exactly wanted it to happen this way. Elden was laid out before him, his body covered in bandages or bruises, his right arm in a rigid splint. Honestly it was a wonder he was alive at all from the extent of his injuries, let alone the elements he had suffered. There was a larger bandage around his torso, blood already beginning to seep through. Dorian felt like he was intruding by being here, seeing the Herald of all people like this. Sure, they’d gone through much together and perhaps even become friends, but this just felt wrong. They hadn’t known each other for long and here he was invading his privacy when Elden was at his most vulnerable and unable to give his permission.

Elden had always seemed so indestructible. Of course he had, he was the Herald, after all. Sure he was soft and kind, moreso than he had any right to be, but Dorian had apparently taken it for granted that they would be facing all this together to the end. Well, Dorian’s end, more likely. And yet here Elden was, broken and barely holding on, and Dorian wasn’t sure what to feel.

He was angry of course. He had watched, uselessly, as the Herald faced down the dragon and this ‘Elder One’ alone. Maker, they’d all just left him behind to face that alone. Dorian felt ill at the thought, determined to never let it happen again. He would be useful for a change, that was the whole reason he’d come south, after all, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t leave Elden to face anything like that alone again. He’d make sure the Herald lived long enough to see this through. Those were dangerous thoughts, but these were dangerous times so he might as well not dwell on it.

“Dorian?” He was so deep in thought he didn’t even notice when the Herald begun to stir. “Are you alright?” The genuine emotion behind Elden’s words took Dorian completely by surprise.

“Don’t try to move,” Dorian said quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

“I’m so glad,” Elden said and he looked so relieved and so exhausted, his skin almost ashen.

“I’ll go and get the healer,” Dorian said quickly. He shouldn’t be here anyway and that damned healer had a job to do.

“No, wait, please. I’m fine. Would you stay with me?” Elden said quickly and Dorian froze. Was the Herald really okay with him being here? “What about the others?”

Of course he was worrying about everyone else while he was in such a state, Dorian thought irritably, wishing the Herald had a bit more concern for his own health. “Your inner circle made it out, thanks to you. As well as a good many others. But right now you should really be resting so no more questions.”

“I’m glad,” Elden said again, but his voice was already growing faint.

“How are you feeling, by the way? I only ask because you seem to largely be made up of bruises at this point. I assume it must twinge a bit?”

“No, I’m just a little cold is all,” Elden said dismissively and Dorian frowned.

He was sure Elden was a lot of things but ‘fine’ definitely wasn’t one of them. Still, Dorian could at least take care of that second bit. The blankets were pooled around his waist so the healer could tend to him. It was warm enough in here with the fire and the various enchantments that Dorian hadn’t even thought on it, but the Herald had almost frozen to death after all so he supposed it made sense he’d be a bit chilled. Dorian pulled the blankets all the way up to Elden’s chin, using whatever was left of his magic to warm them. He was still mostly running on empty after everything that had happened.

“Better?” Dorian asked, but Elden’s eyes were closed now and he didn’t reply. “Herald?” he said more urgently, nearly panicking, but Elden only seemed to be sleeping again, his breathing steady if still shallow.

Dorian sighed and tucked the blankets in a little more securely around Elden. He was gripped with the sudden urge to brush the hair back away from his forehead but quickly suppressed it. He was already intruding, it wouldn’t do to take further advantage of the situation. Although when the healer finally returned, he did regret not holding Elden’s hand even for a moment. He’d been through so much alone, Dorian just wanted to make sure he knew he wasn’t any longer.