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Chapter Text

After The Conclave

       I awoke, and the air was still, almost suffocating, save for an icy draft.  My knees on cold stone, my hands shackled in rough bindings and cold metal.  A burning in my hand, a searing, white hot pain coursed through my arm.  A new torture method, perhaps?  I wondered. That, I was used to- but what I wasn’t used to- were flashes of an odd green hue from an unknown source.  I opened my eyes, squinting in pain and in the face of the bright green light that was coming from… my hand? I had no more time to question my predicament.  A door far away slammed open, the wood rattling as it hit the stone wall hard, and the sound of fast and heavy footsteps filled my ears.  I looked up quickly, a tendril of my red hair moving in the cold draft.  I realized I was surrounded by guards, and their weapons were trained on me.  My eyes flicked to two of them on either side of me in my line of sight, watching them quickly sheath their swords and fall into an attentive stance.  The woman who practically kicked open the door marched through confidently, undoubtedly the reason why the soldiers I could see were practically vibrating in their boots.  Her metal plated boots rang sharply through the cold and empty chamber as she quickly approached me. Another woman silently followed her in, her hooded figure revealing a small yet striking flash of bright red hair that matched mine. Her eyes were cold, calculating and unreadable.  She folded her arms and observed me, her long, intricate chainmail armor swaying gently.  I was so busy analyzing her watching me, that I was startled to hear the other woman’s voice right next to my ear. 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now ,” she spat, her consonants making harsh bursts of wind in my ear.  I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, grimacing at the general pain in my hand, and the unpleasant and crude accusation.  I heard the echo of boots pacing the floor as the woman spoke again. 

“The Conclave is destroyed- everyone who attended is dead….” she muttered almost in shock, coming back around to face me.  “Except for you.”  Her brown eyes narrowed, glinting like liquid topaz in the low torchlight, her glare menacing. An eerie silence fell over the room.  My natural response was to frantically search for an answer to her question, but- I couldn’t remember.  Only flashes of odd things that didn’t make any sense appeared in my mind, not that I could make much sense of anything at the moment, especially with her standing there.  The woman with the red hair like mine stood there, unflinching and unresponsive.  My eyes flicked back to the harsh woman, her short, braided black hair unmoving as she came to a halt in front of me.  My thoughts may have been racing, but my training had taught me to say and act otherwise. 

When you don't know all of the information, stay silent , a familiar voice echoed in my brain.  My mouth hardened into a firm line and I frowned slightly at her spitting accusations.  The woman didn’t like that.  Her frown turned into a scowl, and she reached out and throttled the irons my hands were locked in.  The other woman approached me on the other side, the two of them acting like vultures circling their prey.

“Explain this,” she snarled, continuing to question me as head motioned towards my hand.  Her face got so close to mine, it startled me, breaking through my facade. 

“I… can’t,” I replied quickly, desperately.  I mentally slapped myself.  

Being eager to please will be your downfall .  

“What do you mean, you can’t ?” She asked, taking a defensive stance beside me, crossing her arms.  Her red tailcoat tucked into her armor reflected her harsh movements, the material dully absorbing the light from the room.  It was hardly grand; she was dressed down to her under armor, wearing purple pants and a matching undershirt, with a small and simple silver chest plate overlaying it.  

“I don’t know what that is,” I explained, trying to ease my way out of the hole I dug for myself by answering too quickly, “or how it got there-” the woman grabbed my shoulders, shaking them violently.  I froze in shock, and was held immobile by her as she leaned right into my face again, our noses almost touching.  

“You’re lying!” She yelled.  The red-haired woman in chainmail harshly yanked her away from me, walking her back several paces.  

“We need her, Cassandra,” she admonished, her voice ringing clear in the still and dry chamber. The angry short-haired woman, Cassandra, scowled at her, clearly frustrated by the woman’s criticism. Her eyes flicked towards me with a mixture of disdain and utter bewilderment. 

My head shifted downwards for a moment, my thoughts racing.  Everyone at the Conclave was dead.  Everyone I was meant to collect information on was gone, which meant if I returned… I would be punished- current delay or no- and that sent a chill down my spine.   How could the entire Conclave be destroyed? I wondered.  The mages, templars, the Divine- all… dead? It made no sense, unless something larger was at play that I wasn’t informed of before departing.  

“I… don’t understand,” I voiced my thoughts aloud, my brow furrowing, trying to make sense of everything. 

The cowled woman’s eyes focused on me, and she stepped towards me. “Do you remember what happened?  How this began?” She inquired softly, her voice more inquisitive and searching compared to Cassandra’s harsh accusatory tone.  I closed my eyes for a moment, grimacing as I searched my throbbing head for memories that could help piece what happened together, but it was all a blur.

“I remember… running,” I paused, a hazy memory coming to mind.  “Things were… chasing me.  And then,” my brow furrowed, as it confused me, “a woman?”  

Her eyebrow raised, surprise passing through her otherwise stony features. 

“A woman?” she repeated, seemingly perplexed and shifting her stance slightly.  Cassandra paced around us like a mad Mabari, and it made my hands that were locked in irons start to sweat. 

“She… reached out to me, but then-” I stopped and shook my head, the memory becoming too hazy to make out, disappearing in a flash of white light.  Cassandra stopped in front of me, resignation etched into her features as she turned her back to face her companion.  

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  I will take her to the rift,” she said softly.  Leliana turned to look at me as she listened to Cassandra, her eyes scrutinizing me for a moment before she gave her a silent nod. The door opened moments later, letting a soft light into the chamber.  Once she was gone, Cassandra wasted no time, and bent down and began to unlock my metal restraints that chained me to the floor.  I looked at her in confusion. There was no chance they were letting me go- but where was she taking me?  I voiced the first question that made the most sense to ask.

“What did happen?”  In the dim torchlight, I saw a grim look cross her face as she paused in thought.  She stood first, and lifted me up before she replied, her eyes meeting mine.  

“It… will be easier to show you,” she said solemnly, and walked out the door, with me following close behind.  

Chapter Text

The Breach

I followed Cassandra up the stone steps leading out of the chilly dungeon and into what looked like a Chantry hall.  It had tall ceilings, and was made entirely out of unforgivingly cold, gray stone.  I briefly questioned where I was- how far away was the Conclave? How many days had passed? Surely, House Radonis would have tried to collect me if I had been gone too long, unless... they didn’t think I could have survived- or no one else made it back. Endless questions teased my mind as we walked.  The echo of our steps were muted from the faded red floor runner underneath our feet, the delicate gold embroidery at the edges catching some of the sparse torchlight.  A guard posted at the entrance pushed open the heavy wooden doors, nodding in respect to Cassandra.  Who exactly was she, to wordlessly command, and people obey?  I wondered.  The bright, white light of day instantly flooded the hall, and I held up my hand to block the sun’s harsh rays from blinding me.  After my eyes adjusted, I saw Cassandra standing a few paces in front of me, looking up.  I followed the direction of her steely gaze, and saw a massive green void in the sky.  My eyes widened as I took in the enormous gaping hole that punched through the atmosphere, the clouds surrounding it darkened angrily as an emerald mist twisted, swirling around the wound. I felt my shocked expression stay glued to my face as I tried to collect my thoughts.  How did this happen?  My thoughts shifted again to the new inexplicable mark on my hand.  Did they think I was responsible- but, how could I be?  What did I do, and more importantly, why couldn’t I remember?  I fought viciously for my memories, but all that came back to me was a thick haze.  

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra cut through my thoughts, her voice leaving her lips in an icy cold mist, her eyes never leaving the festering sky. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.”  She turned her attention away from the sky and back to me, walking forward a few paces.  “It’s not the only such rift.  Just the largest.  All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”  

Her words left me reeling. My curiosity overtook me then as a few pieces began to fall into place- I wanted to know more.

“An explosion can do that?”  I asked, my brow pinching.  Cassandra’s expression was unreadable.  

“This one did,” she replied, walking closer, her footsteps crunching on the snowy ground.  The brisk temperature began to settle around me and chill my bones. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”  At that moment, a loud bang echoed through the air from the Breach, and the mark on my hand exploded with a similar light that came from the sky.  Pain erupted in my hand and traveled up my arm, and I cried out in surprise, collapsing to my knees.  I tightly closed my hand around the mark and brought it close to my stomach, the unknown power thrumming painfully through my palm.  I heard Cassandra's hurried footsteps close the remaining distance between us.  She bent her knees to meet me at eye level, her eyes blazing with urgency.  

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you,” she explained quickly.  “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”  Her intense brown eyes bore into mine, as if she were trying to read me.  I thought about what she said- about ‘the rift into the world of demons’-  I instantly knew she was talking about the Fade.  Many knew it as a realm filled with horrors and nightmares, somewhere forbidden. It wasn’t a world of demons in my experience, but if the Fade was truly seeping into the world… I shook the thoughts from my head. 

‘ Now isn’t the time ,’ I scolded myself.  My brow furrowed as I drew in my focus, meeting Cassandra’s unflinching gaze.  

“You said it may be the key.  To doing what?”  I asked.    

“Closing the Breach.  Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly.  It is our only chance however… and yours,” she replied grimly, nodding to my hand.  The heavy weight of dread and realization settled in the pit of my stomach.  Even if I was away from them , I wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it- so I might as well make what time I had left count.  I sighed in resignation.  

“I understand,” I said, my tone solemn.  Cassandra’s face jerked back slightly in surprise, my response was clearly not one she had expected.  

“Then….?”  She trailed, her voice carrying a sliver of hope.  I nodded slightly, knowing exactly what she was asking.  Her look said it all: 

You would risk your life?

“I’ll do what I can.  Whatever it takes,” I replied shortly, knowing there was nothing more to say.  She helped me stand again, her hand hovering above my back slightly as she observed me, seemingly just as curious, if not more so than I was of her. Cassandra’s hand stayed at my back as she guided me through what looked like a small village that was littered with makeshift tents.  Numerous people stood outside, and as we passed by, most of them eyed me with disdain.  They must have thought I was responsible, I suddenly understood.  I looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet their pointed looks as the fire of realization burned in my cheeks.  I would think I was responsible, too.  Cassandra seemed to catch my understanding, and spoke up.  

“They have decided your guilt.  They need it.  The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry.  The Conclave was hers,” her voice carried over the dull roar of the village and the harsh wind as we walked down a more remote dirt path.  “It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars.  She brought their leaders together.  Now, they are dead,” she said, her voice tinged with grief and bitterness.  A million questions swirled in my mind at her words.  I knew very little of Ferelden politics- only the basics. I was not told a lot of information before I departed for the Conclave.  Yorkean only gave me information I needed to know before missions.  ‘Too much information will cloud your judgment,’ he would always say. The only thing I was told before I had left was to listen and watch a specific list of people.  We stopped in our tracks at a large door that began to groan open slowly, a guard from the other side hearing our approach.  Cassandra turned to look at me, her eyes pensive.  

“We lash out, like the sky.  But we must think beyond ourselves.  As she did,” she insisted in a hopeful tone, referring to the Divine. We walked through the gate and over a large stone bridge that crossed over an even larger river that was frozen solid, thickened with ice that looked at least a foot deep.  “Until the breach is sealed,” she started, stepping in front of me and pulling out a small, plain dagger from a holster on her waist, “there will be a trial.  I can promise no more.”  She cut my bonds in a swift motion, and I drew my wrists into myself, rubbing them slightly.  I was baffled at her cutting me loose, as far as I could tell, I hadn’t really inspired any trust in the woman. 

“Where are you taking me?”  I asked, following behind her.  

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra turned her head forward towards two solid oak doors. “Open the gate!” She called to the guards, “we are heading into the Valley.”  There was a creaking as the soldiers heaved against the aged wood, pushing them open almost as soon as the command left her lips.  Both of us did not hesitate as we moved down the small path leading out into the Valley.  The Breach loomed in the sky, and a silence filled the air that was almost suffocating, aside from our footsteps and the crackling flames that engulfed a wagon nearby.  Another crack echoed through the sky, causing my mark to flare like lightning, the pain bringing me to my knees again as it coursed through my body.  My eyes squeezed shut, and I felt a pair of hands touch each of my shoulders. 

“The pulses are coming faster now,” Cassandra said gently. I opened my eyes, her head blocking the sun.  She gripped me firmly by the arm and under my shoulder, hoisting me up with surprising strength.  I was equally surprised by her subtle kindness, not expecting such a stern and confident woman to show glimpses of emotion as she did.  We continued walking at a slightly slower pace, as if she knew the toll the mark was taking on my body.  Her voice cut through the eerie silence.  

“The larger the rift grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” she voiced her thoughts aloud, still thinking about the Breach.  I frowned as my questions started to resurface. 

“How did I survive the blast?” I asked as I forced my legs to take another step, the magic in my arm still thrumming painfully.  Cassandra glanced at me, her gaze drifting to my arm and back up to my face.  

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious.  They say a woman was in the rift behind you.  No one knows who she was,” she trailed,  turning her head forward and losing herself in her thoughts for a moment.  It made sense as to why Leliana was surprised to hear me say I remembered a woman.  They must not have thought my explanation would match up with witness accounts, I thought, slowly piecing more of the events together.  It gave me more clues as to how they really perceived me, and how much sway I would be able to have over them.  

If you are held hostage, always think of a way to outwit your opponent.  

Her voice interrupted my thoughts.  

“Everything in the Valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”  Her words caused me to flinch, as shock and dread settled in the pit of my stomach once more.  If I was the cause of this somehow, how much trouble would I be in once they found out I was alive, and came to collect me?  I wondered if attempting to go back on my own would spare me some of Yorkean’s punishments, or maybe I would be granted a merciful death.  Unless they never bothered to look for me, but I knew I was fooling myself.  No matter how far I ran, they would find me by using their magic, and once they did- the thought caused me to shiver.  Cassandra eyed me again, her expression thoughtful and scrutinizing, and I was suddenly thankful that the cold disguised the real reason behind the shudder that washed over me. “I suppose you’ll see soon enough,” she remarked as we reached another bridge that stretched to the other side of a river. The closer we got to the Breach, the more charged the air became.  I watched in mild fascination and astonishment as bright green streaks fell harshly from the sky like rain.  Ominous thunder reverberated through the air and the clouds, and suddenly, there was a bright flash in front of us, and the strong stone bridge gave way beneath our feet.  I heard the masonwork falling around us, and several shouts of alarm as I tumbled painfully onto the hard ice below.  I scrambled up onto my feet, looking up from a crouched position, to see a large Shade standing before us.  My mouth dropped open, it really was true- demons were raining from the sky.  Cassandra was already standing, her long sword drawn and footing steady as she glared at the monstrosity.  

“Stay behind me!” She yelled, as she slammed her body into the Shade with her shield that was half the size of her.  I stood up quickly, whipping my head around to scan my surroundings.  Boxes, supplies and rubble littered the lake, and I saw soldiers rushing to gather their bearings after the fall. The force of the stones falling when the bridge broke apart cracked the ice in some areas.  A discordant hum from the Fade suddenly surrounded me, and the ground in front of the tips of my toes erupted in a bright green light.  I stepped back quickly in response, my heart racing, nearly tripping over a supply crate and rolling my ankle on a staff. Another large shade seemed to ooze out of the small opening in the Fade before me, and I picked up the staff next to me, immediately channeling a tidal wave of fire through my newfound weapon to repel it. I was thankful that combat training was required as part of the Espionage division, as the strategies I had learned there quickly became of use in fighting the demons we now faced.  Cassandra found an opening in the stance of the Shade in front of her, quickly plunging her blade deep within its shrouded form.  It shrieked, and I watched it dissolve, its essence floating away like ashes in the wind, disappearing in an odd hazy light.  The Shade that I had repelled towards her was now at a disadvantage.  She was close enough to it now, and turned her body and blade to slice open the creature easily, causing it to meet a quick end.  I ran to catch up with her, not wanting to be very far away from someone who clearly knew what she was doing.  

“It’s over,” I breathed to myself.  Cassandra seemed to hear my murmur carried on the icy wind.  Withdrawing her blade as the Shade dissolved, she turned to face me.  Her brows pinched and her lips pointed downwards, forming a formidable scowl. 

“Drop your weapon.  Now ,” she commanded harshly, her eyes narrowing at me as she pointed her now bloodied sword towards me. Indignation flared in my stomach, a small spark that twisted my features into a frown more easily than I would have liked.  Against my better judgement, I held my ground.  

“If you’re going to lead me through a demon infested valley, you’re going to have to trust me,” I countered, my jaw setting harshly as I clenched my teeth in frustration.  Cassandra seemed equally as frustrated, and slightly offended at my opposition.  

“Give me one reason to trust you,” she nearly spat, her tone sounding similar to the one she used with me in the dungeon.  I frowned, thinking the answer was obvious.  

“Because my life is on the line,” I replied sternly, self- preservation now fueling my confidence.  Cassandra continued to glare at me, another unreadable emotion flickering across her face before her stony posture faltered.  She sighed, her shoulders and sword falling slightly.  

“You’re right,” she conceded, lowering her weapon completely.  “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”  Cassandra turned around, and began moving forward again.  A sense of surprise surged through me, as I did not expect such a brash woman to go against her past actions. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, and angled her body back towards me slightly, a crease forming in between her brows.  

“Your life is threatened enough as it is,” she said thoughtfully, looking as though she had just partially realized all I had been through before turning back around.  We continued our journey down the small, barely used path and into more creatures from the Fade- Wraiths, Shades, and a particularly nasty Rage Demon.  I began to theorize that all the fear that was caused by the Breach drew the demons and negative spirits through the rifts, and it would explain why there were so many of them.  The Fade for me was a wonderful place, home, even; but many mages and non-magic people fear it, and for that reason, it manifests the worst sort.  We crossed another icy river, and started to climb our way up a long curving path of snow-covered steps.  I heard clanging of metal and shouting several moments before Cassandra, as my Elven lineage gave me a preternatural advantage.  

“We’re getting close to the rift.  You can hear the fighting,” Cassandra called over the bitter wind and approaching cacophony. 

“Who’s fighting?” I called back, narrowly avoiding sliding on ice as we continued our ascent. 

“You’ll see soon.  We must help them,” she replied.  My breaths came in uneven pants, the cold air burning my lungs as we pressed ever forward.  Reaching the top, Cassandra ran down the path ahead, passing a bridge full of burning supplies on our right.  A recently ruined structure came into view, bricks were littered everywhere, and between them, soldiers fought to keep several demons at bay.  Above it all, a large Fade rift was at its center- I had never seen such a thing before, and my eyes widened again as I saw the world I often dreamt in- seeping into reality.  It looked like a piece of it had erupted into the waking world, its green light shimmering in jagged patterns, cutting through the contrasting gray wintry sky.  Cassandra immediately took to eliminating what fell out of the rift, and I followed suit.  We were now standing directly under the rift, the Fade’s hum was so strong I could feel its echo through my bones.  Most of the demons were being taken care of by the current number of forces that were here, but as soon as we thought we were nearly through, more began pouring through the rift. After what felt like ages, the number slowly began to dwindle.  The mark on my hand thrummed painfully, my whole body was aching.  Cassandra was struggling to hold off a Shade that was twice her size, she grit her teeth as she pushed the creature’s lunge back with the side of her sword.  A huge bolt whipped through the air, hitting it squarely through the head and causing it to instantly dissipate, its energy moving like wisps of smoke that were drawn back into the open rift.  I watched in fascination, almost mesmerized at the sight.  A dwarf wearing a deep red coat and hair to match lowered his formidably large crossbow- the one that shot the bolt, I realized.  I was jerked out of my thoughts suddenly, jumping at the feeling of something cold grabbing my marked hand, and turned to see an elven man gripping it, his pale blue eyes blazing with a sense of urgency and curiosity as he turned it over for a brief moment.  

“Quickly, before more come through!” He seemed to insist.  My mind felt like it was running in circles trying to piece things together. He took no time to explain, and thrust my hand towards the rift. Magic exploded out of my mark and connected with the rift, the energy feeling like an electric shock, causing my stance to falter as I tried to stay upright from the overwhelming sensation.  The rift creaked like ice straining under pressure, the light pouring into it causing the rift to stitch the sky back together.  With a final snap, the gray sky was complete once more, and the rift was gone.

Chapter Text

 The Mountain Pass

All of us stood there, an eerie silence filling the space between us as we took a moment to understand what had just happened. Several mouths were agape, including my own as my bright green eyes flicked between the sky and the elven mage who seemed to be regarding me curiously.  And as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop the question from coming out of my mouth. 

“What did you do?” I asked, dumbfounded, my gaze now settling completely on the elf. His eyes twinkled with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching as if he were holding back a slight smile.  

“ I did nothing.  The credit is yours,” he replied simply, an undercurrent of warmth present in his tone as he nodded his head slightly, motioning to my mark.  I frowned, turning over my hand, the green glow of my new power still shimmering faintly.  

“You mean this?” I breathed, still bewildered.  

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct,” he affirmed, this time the corners of his mouth fully quirked upwards, forming a subtle soft smile.  I didn’t have time to think before I heard a creaking of leather as Cassandra approached.  

“Meaning… it could also close the Breach itself,” she murmured, her tone carrying a glimmer of hope.  

“Possibly,” he turned to face her as he replied, then shifted back towards me, his hands folded in front of him neatly.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he remarked, his voice unusually light.  

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever,” another voice interrupted, mirroring the elven mage’s tone.  I turned to see the red-haired dwarf approach me causally, a devilish grin slowly spreading across his face as he introduced himself. 

“Varric Tethras.  Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he finished, his crossbow glinting in the weak sunlight, giving a big wink to Cassandra. She returned his wink with another nasty scowl.  

“That’s… a nice crossbow you have there,” I replied awkwardly, blushing slightly in light of the situation.  Varric smiled proudly at the mention of his weapon, looking at his crossbow fondly that was now strapped to his back.  

“Ah, isn’t she?” He agreed, “Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

 My brows furrowed, my expression incredulous.  

“You named your crossbow Bianca?”  I asked.  We never named our weapons back home.  Was it some kind of Ferelden tradition? I wondered.  

“Of course,” Varric replied with a sincere nod, “and she’ll be great company in the Valley.”  

Cassandra’s frown ran deeper, her lips turning downwards.  

“Absolutely not.  Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-” she was cut off, only to be interrupted by Varric’s scoff.  

“Have you seen the Valley lately, Seeker?”  Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.  You need me,” he insisted, his eyes intensely locking onto Cassandra's, a small smirk playing on his face.  She glared at him.  

“Ugh.” Her disgusted noise was cut short by her turning around, pacing in thought.  I eyed her curiously as the elf that was assessing me stepped forward, leaning his sleek metal staff in the opposite palm of his hand gracefully.   

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.  I am pleased to see you still live,” he said, his voice pleasant and easygoing.  His expression was peaceful,  tempered by curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite place. 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,’” Varric quipped dryly.  I raised my eyebrows and turned to Solas.  My thoughts raced- I wondered what kind of condition I was in, and how he knew what to do in order to keep me alive.  

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” I replied coolly, vainly attempting to keep a mask of calm.  Cassandra’s matter-of-fact tone cut in just before my questions threatened to tumble out.  

“Like you, Solas is an apostate.”  Solas’ expression was nearly unreadable, but I noticed his mouth slightly tighten in a small line of what looked like disapproval at her comment.  He shifted his stance slightly, bringing his arms closer to himself.  

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.  My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle Mage,” he began.  His tone was even, but the cadence of his words betrayed a hint of slight disdain, further fueling my curiosity. “I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach.  If it is not closed, then we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”  

“And when this is over?”  I asked before I could stop myself.  Solas turned back to me, his head tilting to the side a fraction.  

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not,” he replied. His icy blue eyes shifted off of me and moved to settle on Cassandra. 

“Cassandra,” he began, “you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage,” he said, nodding his head in affirmation of his own explanation, “but I find it difficult to imagine any mage with such power.”  His words were laced with a warning that did not go unnoticed by either of us. He said he was able to explore the Fade. I have heard such claims before, of mages in Tevinter bragging about how much they knew when in fact, they knew very little. I had to wonder if he was really telling the truth.  A small spark of hope ignited in my stomach- I hoped it was true.  I have explored the Fade extensively since childhood, and have not met a single mage who could do the same.  I desperately wanted to find someone with even a remotely close ability to understand more.  Cassandra mirrored his nod resolutely.  

“Understood.  We must get to the forward camp quickly,” she said, taking the lead and heading down the path through the ruins.  Solas promptly turned and followed behind her silently, as Varric walked up to join me at my side.  

“Well,” he said, holding his arms out at his sides, “Bianca’s excited,” he remarked jovially, moving to follow behind Solas. I exhaled a silent huff of approval at his facetious humor through my nose. 

“This way, down the bank, the road ahead is blocked,” Cassandra called, motioning to the side of the ruined building.  We climbed over the remaining wooden supports and made our way down the sloping hill near the frozen water. 

“We must move quickly,” Solas spoke up, his posture becoming more alert now that we were moving.  No one disagreed.  The air was biting, and there was a discordant, uneasy hum from the Fade that surrounded us as we pressed on. 

“Demons ahead!”  Solas yelled, quickly readying his staff and summoning a barrier that sprang forth around us with alarming speed.  

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?”  Varric asked over the wind.  I didn’t have to look at Cassandra to know she was frowning.  We fought through the demons that fell from the Breach quickly, our strength lying in numbers.  I was surprised at how skilled Varric was with his crossbow.  I knew a trained marksman when I saw one, but his techniques were… different.  The hum of magic still filled the air even after all the demons had fallen.  Solas’ magic was strange.  It felt incredibly powerful and reflected his outward demeanor- calm, collected, and in a way, strangely comforting that warmed the tips of my fingers and toes. I was still trying to figure out where he was from; as I had not really seen elves living away from a city alienage, a Dalish camp, or outside of a Magister’s grasp in Tevinter. Most elves bore either a slave brand or Vallaslin, and Solas wore neither.  I realized too late that I had been staring too long in trying to place him.  

“You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan.  Did they send you here?” He asked.  My thoughts raced nervously.  How did he know I was originally Dalish? I thought- then it dawned on me.  I reached up and touched the middle of my forehead, where a small brown Vallaslin was tattooed.  It was simple, the design of Mythal, a pattern of woven branches that looked like a crown between my brows. I often forgot that it was there, since I had not seen the clan that gave me the mark for almost twenty years.  

None of them can know the truth , I thought.  If they did, I would lose any credibility I had gained by proving to be useful.  I had to figure out how to tell him something and nothing at the same time, so I decided to answer his question with another instead.  

“You know of the Dalish?”  I asked, turning it around on him.  I was truly curious as to what he knew of them, since he was obviously not a part of any clan. 

His answer was instantaneous, factual. 

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

I frowned at his response. 

“Crossed paths?” I asked. I chanced another look at him to try and see what he meant. His face was impervious, despite a slight raise of one brow as his gaze flicked to me briefly. 

“I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than superstition.” 

“Can’t you elves just play nice for once?” Varric whined.  

I scoffed.  Solas was right- the Dalish were extremely superstitious. Although I hadn't belonged to clan Lavellan for years, I still had plenty of memories encountering “shemlen” or outsiders of any kind that strayed too far from their cities.  I could only imagine what they might do if they saw an elf with no Vallaslin wander into an encampment. My reaction must have caught him by surprise. He turned his head to look at me completely, as if to encourage me to explain myself, but I said nothing.  

We came up to another set of stone steps leading away from the frozen bank, and away from a few homes by the lake that were caught aflame.  I shuddered to think of what happened to its occupants- the effects from the blast had reached far. 

“So,” Varric started, “ are you innocent?” I followed Cassandra up the stairs, looking back at Varric with a frown on my face.  

“I don’t remember what happened,” I replied shortly.  

‘ The less they know, the better, ’ I thought.  To my surprise, Varric laughed.  

“That’ll get you every time.  Should have spun a story.” 

“That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra retorted, clearly not impressed.  

“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution,” he explained almost cheekily.  Varric’s tone and choice of words made me even more curious about where he was from.  He appeared to know his way around and be fairly good at manipulation when he so chose.  Maybe we were more similar than I had originally thought.  The higher we climbed, the more the wind whipped the snow into the air, causing it to bite at our cheeks and noses.  

“I hope Leliana made it through all this,” Cassandra said quietly, her voice laced with concern and fatigue.  

“She’s resourceful, Seeker,” Varric reassured.  

The word “Seeker” used to address Cassandra struck me then.  That’s why she was interrogating me at Haven- she could tell if I was lying- one of the innate abilities of the members of the Order.  Heraldus, as High Chancellor to Archon Radonis back home, insisted we have deep roots in Orlais, including within the Order of the Seekers.  That made my posture more rigid- if she found out I was a spy, who knew if she was aware of further corruption within the ranks of her comrades.  

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp.  We’re almost there,” Solas replied.  Not long after, a gate finally came into view, with another large rift in front of it. 

“Another rift!” Cassandra yelled in exasperation, unsheathing her sword.  

“We must seal it, quickly!” Solas exclaimed, running into the swirling mass of demons behind her without hesitation.  That same calm, cool energy filled my senses as a misted barrier washed over me and the soldiers that were badly injured but still fighting closer to the front.  

“They keep coming!” One screamed as he plunged his blade deep into a Shade.  “Help us!”  

“Use the mark!” Solas called from over his shoulder, barely missing a swiping lunge from a Rage Demon.  

My mark flared intensely and I grimaced- I flung up my hand to attempt to seal the rift.  Cassandra saw what I was doing, and moved around me to fend off the demons that charged towards us.  

“Fan out!” She called, and like magic, the rest of the group yielded to her command. There weren’t as many demons as we had faced before here, but the power it took for me to seal the rift felt the same.  It was draining, and I felt all my energy and magic pour into the mysterious scar on my hand.  I could almost feel the Fade stitching itself back together, my mark burning painfully in response as I pushed harder, hoping no more abominations would pour through.  Solas and Varric made short work of the demons, and I realized, the more demons that were felled, the easier it became to close rifts.  

‘ Their essence must be tethered to the rift somehow ,’ I theorized.  In kind, the more I stabilized the rift, the more the demons’ power seemed to weaken.  When the last creature fell, I stretched my hand out once more, the now reduced rift vanished with another satisfying pop before it was no more.  We took no time to recollect ourselves.  Cassandra was on her knees, helping up a soldier as Solas and one other pushed open the gates.  A large bridge that was heavily fortified stood beyond it, full of supplies and teeming with soldiers.  Halfway down, raised voices in heated argument rung out, cutting into the chilly air.  

“We must prepare the soldiers!” An Orlesian sounding voice insisted.  

“We will do no such thing,” the other retorted indignantly.  As we made our way forward, I saw Cassandra’s features soften as she seemed to recognize the voice, causing her to quicken her pace.  As we neared the tent where the two figures were standing, I remembered who that Orlesian accent belonged to.  Leliana- the red-haired woman who was present during my interrogation.  

‘Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  I will take her to the rift,’ Cassandra’s words echoed in my mind.  Her arms were crossed as she argued with some member of the Chantry.  By the look of his slightly embellished robes, I could tell he was from a somewhat high standing.  

I could see Leliana’s brow furrowing from across the bridge, her voice was serious and demanding. 

“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  It is our only chance!” She implored, her chainmail glinting in the weak winter sunlight.

The man donned in Chantry robes of creamy white and crimson red snorted.  

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.”  

Leliana’s next remark was nearly hostile, her even tone carrying a very icy edge.  

“ I have caused trouble?”  

Varric raised his eyebrows and blew out an exaggerated breath through puffed cheeks as Cassandra stormed ahead. 

“Oh boy,” he muttered.  

“You’re not in command here!” Leliana asserted firmly.  

Both parties were at a tipping point, and I quickened my pace to catch up with Cassandra.  This wasn’t good.

“Enough! I will not have it!” He barked.  Leliana was about to reply, her mouth open to form a cutting verbal blow, but the Chantryman’s eyes caught the glint of Cassandra’s armor as she approached, and turned to face us.  

“Ah, here they come,” he remarked smartly.  

Leliana seemed to be able to gather her bearings somewhat, her eyes settling on me, then traveling to each member in our group.  

“Chancellor Roderick, this-” she began, only to be cut off by his quick reply.  

“-I know who she is.  As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution,” he demanded, locking eyes with Cassandra.  

‘ I knew there was something snobbish about him ,’ I thought sarcastically.  It was now no wonder to me he thought he was in charge.

Her mouth tightened, her face became steel- she was furious.  

“ ‘Order me? ’ “ She repeated.  “ You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!” She spat, her posture intimidating as she towered over the Chancellor.  The rest of us were watching in tense silence, the air crackling.  Chancellor Roderick shrank back slightly, scowling at her overpowering glare with a shocking amount of distaste.  

“And you are a thug , but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” He bit back.  

Leliana frowned, her stormy gaze razor sharp. 

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.”  

Roderick’s lips turned downward, my eyes detected anguish in the crease in his brow and lines near his eyes.  He raised both of his hands up, looking away for a brief moment, as if he wanted to hear no more.  

“Justinia is dead!  We must elect a replacement, and obey her  orders on the matter,” he countered.  I looked around our group: from Solas, whose expression was intensely thoughtful, to Varric, whose brows were still raised in mild interest, to Cassandra, who was still seething.  I felt like no one was stating the obvious.  

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?”  I asked aloud, holding up my slightly glowing hand.  Leliana’s head turned towards me, her lips twitched upwards either in amusement or approval.  I heard a very small snort disguised as a cough from Solas on my right, while Chancellor Roderick directed his disapproval towards me.  

“ You brought this on us in the first place!” He snipped.  His words meant nothing to me- I knew something larger was at play here, and so did he- he just didn’t want to admit it.  I kept my expression even and unflinching.  Roderick’s shoulders seemed to sag as he sighed, his eyes drifting slowly to Cassandra.  

“Call a retreat, Seeker,” he pleaded resignedly, “our position here is hopeless.”  

Cassandra shook her head.   

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” she replied, her voice softening and taking on an inflection of encouragement, her eyes holding a spark of determination.  

Chancellor Roderick’s expression relaxed slightly in kind.

“How?  You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers,” he asked, still wearing an expression of defeat.  He seemed to carry Cassandra’s hope somewhere within the depths of himself.  Through his snarky demeanor, I could tell he wanted to figure out a way to stop this, too.  

Cassandra pointed her whole hand towards him, slicing the air as she spoke.  

“We must get to the Temple.  It’s the quickest route,” she said urgently.  

Leliana shook her head.  

“But not the safest.  Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains,”  she rebutted, her strategy sound. 

“We lost an entire squad on that path.  It’s too risky,” Cassandra replied, holding up her hand.  

At that moment, Chancellor Roderick butted in, clearly frustrated.  

“Listen to me.  Abandon this now before more lives are lost!”  His desperate plea was cut off by another thunderous boom that echoed through the sky ominously.  My mark flared, pain erupting through my arm.  I watched as the blinding green light on my hand expanded further up my palm, close to my wrist.  Everyone fell silent for a moment, a thickness settling into the air. Cassandra’s eyes flicked from my mark,then to my face.  

“How do you think we should proceed?” She asked me, her voice surprisingly quiet and ponderous.  

My mind absorbed her words for a moment.  I could feel the prickling sensation of everyone’s eyes on me as I thought, pressuring me into a premature response, but I held my tongue.  

You must think three times before you act.  

I weighed my options, shutting the rest of the world out, the logistical part of my brain taking over.  The scouts that were cut off from contact may still be alive, but if we allowed soldiers to charge as a distraction, there would be a risk of more casualties. If we were to charge with the soldiers… it may be too late to save the rest.   

If the soldiers are alive now, we could save them, if we are direct, I thought to myself.  

I was always forced to make the most rational decision, it had been ingrained into my being.  A careful assault with the soldiers would ensure our arrival and increase our chances of surviving a little longer, but the soldiers who lost contact- there was a small chance they could still be alive.  A look of stony resolve flickered across my face. If they were going to ask for my opinion, if I was going to choose how I would most likely meet my end, it was going to be on my terms. It was going to be me that chose.  

“Use the mountain path.  Work together. You all know what’s at stake,” I replied firmly.  I knew they were aware of the risks, and I wanted to save who I could.  

Varric’s lips quirked upwards, and Cassandra’s frown deepened.  She set her jaw in what looked like disapproval, but she said nothing to me.  Instead, she turned to Leliana.    

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the Valley.  Everyone,” she commanded, nodding to us quickly in an urge to push us forward. She moved around the tent and continued the journey to the second set of gates, all of us wordlessly following behind.  

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,”  the Chancellor replied solemnly, Cassandra’s shoulders tightened as she passed him.   

I was surprised that she took my decision as hers, but followed regardless- I had no room to argue or wonder.  A seed of dread took root in my stomach, its heavy weight a steady reminder of a possibility of what was to come.  We headed to what I could only assume was the Mountain Path.  We climbed a series of poorly built ladders that led to what looked like to be an old passage of some sort. A narrow opening was carved into the edifice of the mountain towering before us, torches lit as evidence of a previous party entering in before us.  

“The tunnel should be just ahead.  The path to the Temple lies just beyond it,” Cassandra directed.  All of us quickly scurried inside, grateful to be out of the wretched winter wind.  

“What matter of tunnel is this?  A mine?”  Solas asked, his timbre reverberating off of the unforgivingly cold stone walls.  

“Part of an old mining complex,” she replied, “These mountains are full of such paths.”  

Varric stepped over a particularly large stone.  

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?” He asked, motioning further down into the mine.  

“Along with whatever has detained them,” Solas theorized, his head tilting upward, examining the large and sharp jagged ceiling above us.  

Cassandra’s gaze hardened.  

“We shall see soon enough,” she said curtly.  The stone walls seemed to grow narrower, causing my palms to sweat, despite the bitter cold- I hated tight spaces.  We ran into a few stray demons that fell from the Breach and wandered in.  Shortly after clearing the area, we made our way through the winding, semi-finished passageways and into a clearing.  The bright white light of day reflected brilliantly off of the snow outside, a stark contrast to the dim and suffocating air of the mine.  Varric’s foot hit a shield, causing him to look down.  

“I’m guessing we found the soldiers,” he said with a sigh, the weapon belonging to a fallen soldier who lay face down in the snow.    

Cassandra shook her head.  

“That cannot be all of them,” she refuted.  Varric glanced at her, motioning his head further down the winding snowy mountain path.  

“So the others could be holed up ahead?”  He wondered.  

“Our priority must be the Breach.  Unless we seal it soon, no one will be safe,” Solas interjected.  Varric’s expression turned grim.  

“I’m leaving that to our elven friend here,” he commented, referring to me.  

‘If that is even possible ,’ I thought, the dread rooted in my stomach grew heavier by the minute.  Soon after finding a few more deceased soldiers, the air seemed to thicken.  I could tell there was another rift up ahead from the echoes of the Fade that seemed to tear painfully through the expanding mark in my hand.  Sure enough, a foreboding green light crested the hill just ahead, and I saw everyone in our group either draw or tighten their grip on their weapons.  A demon made its way over the hill, which Varric quickly shot a bolt through, causing it to fall instantly with a shriek.  Reaching the rift, a spark of hope started to eat away at the dread that was slowly blooming inside me.  

The soldiers- they were still alive .  

A woman wrapped in thick wool and fleece looked over her shoulder, her dulled sword slashing the face of a hooded Shade.  

“Lady Cassandra!”  She called, her voice desperate, as another soldier was pierced through by the claws of a demon, his blood drawing intricate patterns in the snow.  Her hand reached out, only to draw back quickly as the Shade lunged for her again.  

“You’re alive!” Cassandra yelled back, running into the center of the fight.  The woman who called out to her pushed against the Shade’s attack, grunting with effort as she kept it at bay.  

“Just barely!” she replied breathlessly, readying her sword once more.  More demons seeped out of the rift, the Fade echoing sickeningly through the air as my mark burned relentlessly-  I knew what had to be done.  The more demons we killed, the less resistance I felt when closing the rift.  With our increased numbers, the tide turned in our favor, and I was able to seal the the tear in the Fade.  I shuddered as the expanded mark on my hand sapped my energy, my eyes burning with exhaustion.  How much more could I take before my body gave out? I questioned gravely.  Everyone else seemed relieved, which fueled my resolve, giving me a small bit of strength.  A warm voice cut through my thoughts.  

“Sealed, as before.  You are becoming quite proficient at this,” Solas remarked through heavy breaths, buttressing himself against his staff.  

Varric lowered his crossbow, wiping blood off of the end of the polished metal.  

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” he grunted, apparently too fatigued to carry on with his usual dry humor. Cassandra helped the female soldier that earlier called to her to their feet, near the stone wall that bordered the edge of the mountain. This woman seemed to be in charge of them all, her uniform slightly different than the others I had seen.  

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant.  She insisted we come this way,” Cassandra explained, a hint of approval laced in her voice.  The woman who was bundled in warm armor turned to me abruptly.  

“Then you…?” She trailed, her voice muffled by the mask she wore to keep out the cold.  I knew what she was asking.  

Then you can help- you actually want to? 

I nodded.  I did want to help, even if it was the last thing I was able to do.  The amount of energy that it took for me to close these rifts was immense, and I doubted I would survive if I managed to close the Breach.  If I could do something with my life, make a choice that was entirely my own, even if it meant it would result in my death- I would choose it a thousand times over than the life I had before.  

“It was worth saving you, if we could,” I said, bowing my head slightly in respect to the Lieutenant.  She blinked once in surprise, almost startled at my affirming reply. 

“The way into the Valley behind us is clear for the moment.  Go while you still can,” Cassandra urged, motioning behind her with a swoop of her arm.   

“At once,” The Lieutenant nodded, saluting her with a fist to her chest, taking no time to ask questions. “Quick, let’s move!”  She barked roughly behind her right shoulder to her troops that remained.  Obeying immediately, they ran up the snowy path over the hill that led back into the mine, saluting Cassandra as each of them passed by.  I watched their forms retreat until I saw the last soldier disappear from my line of sight.  A peaceful silence briefly eased its way into the air.

“The path ahead seems to be clear of demons as well,” Solas mused, his eyes narrowing as he searched the downward slope of the mountain.  

Cassandra pointed herself towards the direction of his gaze.  

“Let’s hurry, before that changes.  Down the ladder.  That’s the way to the Temple,” she pointed.  We wordlessly followed suit once more, my mind filling with too many thoughts to count as I wondered what was to come.  

One thing was for certain- it was most likely to be my end.  

Chapter Text

The Big One. 

The wintry air around the ruined walls of the Temple of Sacred Ashes whipped, while the air within was deathly still.  

“So… holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?” Varric asked warily, his head moving this way and that.  He was picking up on the same thing I was as we approached- something wasn’t right.  

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is  possible,” Solas put in, his brow creased in thought as he looked down, stepping over the body of a dead soldier.  

Varric grimaced at the sight, looking forward only to grimace again at the ruins that lay ahead. 

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

“That is true,” Solas replied flatly.  

Cassandra, who had clearly had enough, interjected, “We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past.”  

I agreed with her.  Seeing the damage firsthand was… something else entirely.  Memories from just days ago flashed through my mind- the first time I entered the Temple.  The entrance was grand, with huge archways lining the front.  Sweeping banners littered the outside as a welcome to all the noble houses of Ferelden and elsewhere, noisy and nearly useless chatter filled my ears. Now, all that was left were stones and corpses.  And silence.  

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas breathed, gazing up at the toppling spires.  

“What’s left of it,” Varric scoffed, his boots crunching the rubble under his feet.  The further we walked, the more bodies we discovered, frozen in agony, their charred remains still burning.  I swallowed the bile that rose up in my throat.  

Cassandra nodded to a higher point in the distance- a ruined staircase that used to lead up to another level.  

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.  They say a woman was in the rift behind you.  No one knows who she was,” she said, her voice instantly swallowed by the thick quiet.  We approached a stone banister, and for the first time, I got a good look at the Rift that was connected to the Breach.  It was massive in size, towering over the heart of the Temple, the Fade shuddering around the tear and its remaining energy swirling towards the Breach into the sky above it.  

“The Breach sure is a long way up,” Varric muttered, staring straight up at it and turning around for a full view, the green light of the Fade reflecting in his hazel eyes. I was about to reply, when I heard a shuffle of footsteps coming from behind us.  

“You’re here.  Thank the Maker.”  I didn’t have to turn around to recognize Leliana’s voice.  She stood in between a squad of archers and what looked like two swordsmen armored in thick fur.  

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Cassandra directed, nodding her head in a small greeting.  Leliana instantly complied, motioning the soldiers to assigned posts around the area under the main Rift below.  As they departed, Cassandra approached me, her eyes wary.  

“This is your chance to end this.  Are you ready?” She asked.  

I quirked a brow.  The Breach was indeed, a long way up.  “I assume you have a plan to get me up there?” I replied, my eyes not leaving the large, green hole in the sky.  

“No,” Solas interjected, his voice firm, “ this Rift was the first, and it is the key.  Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”  

“Then let’s find a way down,” Cassandra answered, starting down the sloping path of a ruined, once elaborate staircase.  Leliana trailed behind us, her eyes wary and scanning our surroundings.  A sudden echo burst out from the Fade, its low timbre rattling my bones.

“Now is the hour of hour victory.  Bring forth the sacrifice,” a deep, menacing voice murmured.  Cassandra stopped, whipping her head around.  

“What are we hearing?” She asked aloud, slightly alarmed. Solas’ expression became more serious as he walked past her.  

“At a guess: the person who created the Breach,” he returned.  She continued walking forward, albeit with a greater sense of caution.  The hum in the air from the Fade’s interference seemed to collide with something else as we journeyed deeper.  The closer we got to the Breach, the more a loud, squealing sound seemed to fill my ears.  Its song was sickening, twisted, and felt… wrong.  Groups of bloodred crystals jutted out near the edges of the ruins, surrounding the walls in a formidable glow.  Varric leaned to the left, towards Cassandra.  

“You know this stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker,” he urged quietly, as if his comment could wake the dead.  

“I see it, Varric,” she replied curtly, her tone almost dry, her head turning towards a rather large cluster as we passed by.  I grit my teeth as a sharp pain tore through my neck and into my head through my temples, causing me to turn my head away.  

“But what’s it doing here?” He pressed, sounding nervous. He seemed just as unnerved at the stuff as I was.  

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it…” Solas trailed in thought.  

Varric grimaced and shook his head.  “It’s evil.  Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”  

That sparked my curiosity.  The feeling I felt when standing next to it already told me as much, but the weight of his words indicated he seemed to know more about it than the rest of them.  

“Keep the sacrifice still,” the nameless voice rumbled again ominously through the air.

“Someone, help me!” Another voice cried, this time, a woman.  

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra gasped.  

“What’s going on here?” The dread returned to my stomach once more, and I blanched.  That was my voice.  

Cassandra’s eyes widened in recognition.  “That was your voice, Most Holy called out to you, but…” she trailed, looking up in shock.  We reached the center of the ruins, and above us was a memory playing out in real time, an echo of what had happened here.  I saw a wispy shadow of myself, along with the Divine, restrained in some kind of warped red light.  A shrouded figure with gleaming ruby eyes turned towards the past version of me.  

“Run while you can!  Warn them!” Justinia pleaded.  

“We have an intruder.  Slay the elf,” the figure commanded calmly.  What happened next was left unknown, the memory from the Fade dissolving into the green mist of the Rift.  Cassandra was half crouched, watching the fading memory with unabashed awe before turning in my direction. 

“You were there!” She exclaimed, taking a step towards me.  “Who attacked?  And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true?  What are we seeing?” Cassandra’s questions tumbled out of her, half curious and half demanding.  I frowned, this was too much.  

“I don’t remember!” I shot back, an edge of frustration present in my voice.  I was tired of all of our questions being answered with more questions.  Solas took notice of the tension slowly building.  

“Echoes of what happened here.  The Fade bleeds into this place,” he remarked, still staring up at the sky where the memory faded.  His words seemed to cut through some of the desperation in the air, and I was grateful.  I moved toward him, as did Cassandra as Solas pointed up towards the Rift.  

“The Rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily.  I believe that with the mark, the Rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely.  However, opening the Rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”  

Cassandra’s expression hardened- we all knew what needed to be done.  

“That means demons. Stand ready!” She called to the guards positioned above us.  Everyone drew their weapons, including Leliana, who notched an arrow on the string of her sturdy and impressive longbow. Everyone was silent, the air was still.  I took no time to think before I reached up and opened the Rift, the feeling of lightning singeing my fingertips once more.   I felt a yank in the air around us.  The Rift shuddered, and exploded with a green light.  The ground trembled, and I felt a new and foreboding presence.  Gravel kicked up in all directions, and through the dust, one of the largest Pride Demons I had ever seen stood before us.  My eyes went wide.  

“Fenhedis,” I swore in shock and exasperation.  Solas’ head turned towards me, wearing another unreadable expression, but quickly turned away to dodge a large chunk of gravel flying towards him.  The demon seemed outraged that it was pulled from its home in the Fade, its multiple glaring black eyes taking in its new surroundings.  It let out a guttural roar, and started swiping at anyone and anything in sight.  Everyone began to close in on it, but I knew that with the size and strength of the demon before us, there was no way we would kill it with physical force alone.  

“We must strip its defenses!  Wear it down,” Cassandra called over the sudden uproar of fighting.   

“Cover me!”  I yelled.  Shades began to pour out of the Rift behind the Pride Demon like water.  Leliana directed her men to attack the lesser Shades, while I made my way around the other side.  I needed to get to a place of advantage, to take out some of the Shades discreetly so I could begin to seal the Rift- I just needed to be uninterrupted to do it.  The Pride Demon was on my left, the Shades on my right.  I ran between the two, behind an enormous stone column that provided some protection from the demon’s attacks, and kept me out of sight. I threw magic from behind at the group of Shades that were clustered around Leliana’s soldiers. I knew that the more creatures we eliminated, the more easy the Rift would be to seal, and in turn, the more it would weaken the Pride Demon.  The archers posted at higher levels shot down at the Shades, their arrows striking true at more that leaked from the Rift above.  The air hummed chaotically around me, and I could feel the mark on my hand expanding from all the activity from the Fade in the area. 

I don’t have much time, if more demons keep pouring out like this, my mark will expand and kill me before I can seal the Rift tied to the Breach, I thought urgently.  I grit my teeth as the mark tore through my palm and up to my wrist.  Sweat formed at my brow, and I saw spots in the corners of my vision.  I began to disrupt the Rift to stop more creatures from pouring through, but wasn’t able to do very much. A large tremor knocked me off of my feet from the Pride Demon’s attacks.  It was using its magic, tendrils of lightning crackling in the air and around its hands.  It slammed its fists into the ground, the lightning and sheer force causing more rocks to fly and explode on impact, almost knocking me down again.  I knew that Cassandra’s group needed an advantage.

“Barrier!” I shouted, running towards Solas with an insane plan coming to mind.  Without hesitation, I felt the powerful thrum of his magic spring forth around me.  I ran forward, summoning ice magic and sliding between the demon’s legs as it raised its hands to strike the ground again.  

“What-” Cassandra began to yell in shock.  I gave her no time to answer before I shouted,

“Clear!”  Everyone bolted, seeing the Demon’s hands come down, crackling with more magic.  I drew deeply from the Fade, my mark flaring as I did so at the intensity of my will.  I summoned the biggest block of ice I could muster where the Demon intended to strike, and strike it did.  Lightning exploded as the conjured ice sprang forth, melting most of it almost instantly. A charge from the lightning carried through the water and into the lightning magic in the Demon’s hands.  It shrieked in pain and paused for a moment, its stance open white it recovered.  

“Maker’s Breath!” A soldier yelled.  

“We have an advantage!  Use it!” Cassandra barked, coming around to flank on the left where the water had not gathered.  I ran back around towards the rift, and flung my hand out to begin to seal it.  I felt the resistance as the numbers of creatures tied to it in the physical world was still substantial.  I knew it was working though, the Pride Demon groaned as I felt the rift stitch together slowly.  

“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!” Varric grunted, the force of his full draw kicking his whole body back.  He was attacking the Shades teeming around Leliana’s men.  The Breach shuddered and my mark expanded again, and I couldn’t stop the cry of anguish that tore through my lips as I saw the bright light begin to creep up my forearm.  I poured magic into my attacks at the Shades, narrowly dodging a lunge from one of them.  Its claws barely grazed my face, leaving a burning sensation in its wake.  I grit my teeth, pushing back the fear that seemed to close in on me.  

The only thing you need fear, is failure itself.  

My head was pounding, my hands were shaking- I pushed against the Fade with my hand, forcing the Rift shut in an attempt to stem the tide of demons that threatened to pour through.  I could feel its energy weaken bit by bit.  Leliana and her men had finished off the swarm of Shades and gathered around me so I could continue to close the Rift. The rest of the men ran towards the Pride Demon, its massive frame seeming to sag with fatigue with every passing second.  The mark burned relentlessly, the sensation traveling up my forearm and made my head spin.  I drew more of my will from the open fade, channeling all the magic I had.  The ground shook suddenly and I heard muffled voices over the ringing in my ears.  I couldn’t see anymore since my eyes were shut to avoid the blinding green light emanating from my hand, but I could feel that the Rift was almost shut.  

Just a little more , I urged myself.  Just a little more, and it will all be over.   It felt like an eternity before I was blown back by the force of the Rift sealing shut, the energy traveling like lightning through the air and into the clouds with a resounding bang .  I landed in the gravel and slid, unable to move.  My eyes took one last look at the green colored sky before I saw black.   

Chapter Text

Searching for Valuables

-One Day After Closing the Main Rift, in Minrathous, Tevinter-

A large fist hit the long mahogany table.  

“Damnit!” Yorkean growled.  The female servant in the room jumped, including the messenger in front of him. The elaborate single gold candle stand that sat nearby rattled on the finish, the flame lit atop the candle flickering slightly. 

“No one survived? You’re sure?” His low voice insisted. He leaned on his fist and over the table. 

“There were no signs of life after the explosion the ravens could find, sir,” the messenger sputtered anxiously, tossing back the strands of mousy brown hair that threatened to fall into his face.  Yorkean frowned upon hearing the information.  His shoulders sagged as he thought, plopping himself in his chair with a huff.  

He crossed his legs and arms, propping his head up with one hand. A deafening silence filled the room, aside from an occasional call of a bird from outside the small sending window.  

“Get Jacovis,” Yorkean barked suddenly, sitting forward in his chair again and reaching for his glass of wine.  He watched the sad excuse for a boy jump into a salute nervously, before turning abruptly to make a quick exit, almost colliding with the opening door. The man emerging from the other side peered curiously from behind his hand that held it open, his ominous dark eyes meeting the servant’s frightened green ones. 

Yorkean paused mid-sip as he saw who came through the entrance to his office, raising his crystal goblet in a mock-toast before setting it down with a gentle tap.  

“The man I was hoping to see,” Yorkean greeted Jacovis with a nod.  A small closed-lipped smile grew across his face as he dipped his head in a customary greeting.  

“Come in,” Yorkean insisted, ushering him inside.  Jacovis entered gracefully, his creamy white cloak rustling amidst silence as the lessers in the room watched him cautiously.  Yorkean frowned, noticing disdainfully that the jumpy servant boy was still present.  

“Out!” he bellowed impatiently, causing him to startle again and scamper out of the room.  Yorkean shook his head. 

“Idiot boy,” he muttered, brushing the quill on the table towards the edge nonchalantly.  

“I hope you have better news than that pathetic display,” Yorkean grumbled, raising one eyebrow hopefully at him.  Jacovis’ chocolate brown eyes glinted with humor in the low light.  

“I would hope so as well, Spymaster,” he echoed, his voice dry but laced with subtle amusement. “I bring news regarding the Conclave,” he continued, approaching the table.  “I sent for our blood ravens, as per request. The only thing that was recovered was this,” he said, dropping a plain silver ring with the Radonis insignia etched onto the side. Yorkean picked up the ring, holding it to the light as if it would offer more clues. 

“Damn,” he bit out, setting it down on the table. 

“Nothing else recovered?” Yorkean asked with a frown. Jacovis shook his head. 

“Not yet,” he replied, the gold embroidery on the edges of his white cloak catching in the torchlight. 

“Not even Anora, eh?” Yorkean pressed. “I’m surprised. Little whelp was always crafty enough,” he gruffed, toying with the stem on his glass. There was a brief pause that filled the room as he pondered. 

“We sent the ravens half a day after the reports were due to come in. Send more out, see if they can find any more clues, keep an eye out for movement. Something tells me this isn’t over.”

A small grin spread over Jacovis’ face, his eyes glimmering with intrigue. 

“Her phylactery was not responsive, but remains have yet to be seen. If you have taught her anything, Spymaster, it is how to escape the unexpected. I will send for more blood ravens, and perhaps, deploy a few men around Ferelden? Sources tell me that there has been some interesting Tevinter movement in the south.” 

Yorkean nodded, his eyes looking down at the dark and rich wood as he thought. 

“Yes. See to it,” he agreed, “and stay vigilant. I want reports as soon as they come in. The sooner we know something, the sooner we will have the upper hand.” 

Jacovis, who was gently thumbing the edge of a tome perched atop the table, straightened. 

“Yes, Spymaster,” he replied politely, turning swiftly to exit the room.  

Yorkean sat there, with only him and the servant girl remaining.  Her shiny blonde hair and emaciated appearance a stark contrast to the extravagant decorations in the room.  He cast his eyes upon her form, and was reminded of his best, his most useful spy in his command. He only hoped that he survived.  

Chapter Text

The Inquisition Reborn 

-Three days after closing the main Rift-

There was a bright flash, and suddenly, I was standing in Yorkean’s office. It was quiet, aside from the crackling flames of the evening fire, and his long and pointed white quill scratching on parchment.    

“You are to gather intelligence, find and collect useful information, and stay out of sight.  Is that clear?”  He asked, not bothering to look up from his reports. 

“Yes, Spymaster,” I concurred, saluting softly, my eyes finding a place to linger- on a worn leather book with a warped binding on the bookshelf behind him.  

“Good.  There is another fellow there, another Magister not of our house.  I want you to keep an extra eye out for him and what he is up to.  Whispers say he goes by-”  

The vision was cut off by another flash. Pain shot through my hand as I ran through a thick green mist, almost blind, the eerie feeling of being chased creeping up on me.  I whipped my head around, to find spiders running close behind me, their black eyes beady and penetrating. I looked ahead and found a set of rocks that I began to climb to get away.   There was a woman clad in robes and encased in a bright white light at the top reaching out for me, and I desperately reached back.  Our fingers were almost touching, I was so close-

Then I awoke, covered in sweat.  I was in an unfamiliar place, a small cabin that was modestly furnished.  I heard an exclamation of surprise and a thud, and turned my head towards the noise.  A small, brown haired elven girl stared at me in shock. 

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” She stuttered.  My brow furrowed in confusion. 
“Don't worry about it.  I only-” my words of reassurance were quickly cut off as I watched her fall to the ground in some type of reverence.  

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.  You are back in Haven, my Lady.  They say you saved us.  The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.  It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days,” she explained, her voice muffled from her face still being buried in the floor, her form trembling.  I frowned.  Three days? So I hadn’t managed to die closing that big rift.  My eyes settled on her once more.  

“So the danger is over,” I mused aloud. It had worked- but I was still alive.  I was surprised, and a small part of me that lingered in the shadows, was afraid. I looked back at the woman’s trembling form, and my stomach twisted sympathetically.   

“The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say,” she replied, slowly standing and then backing away from the bed with careful movements.  

“I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve ‘wakened.  ‘At once’, she said.”  

“And where is she?” I asked gently.  

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor.  ‘At once,’ she said,” she insisted again.  I felt bad for asking her anything, she seemed to have a hard time maintaining her calm around me.  I used to have a similar behavior when I was under Jacovis’ watch back in Tevinter, and I could only hope she was nervous because she was shy.  

I rose quickly, my body groaning in protest, but ignored it and quickly followed out through the open door where the servant girl had suddenly bolted. 

Walking outside, I was met with the chilly winter air, and several stares of the townspeople that had lined up near my door.  The girl’s sense of urgency and the villagers’ stares increased my pace, I didn't want to linger. All of them seemed to stand in some sort of vigil, some of them exchanged glances as I passed by, murmuring in hushed whispers. 

“That’s her,” I heard a man say, “That’s the Herald of Andraste.”  I had never heard of that name before, but it sounded important, I didn’t like it.  I made my way around the dirt path of Haven, and back to the large stone-walled Chantry.  The green haze in the sky was still present and foreboding as ever, but the mists below it were no longer there. 

“Then it really did work,” I thought, relief washing over me.  I followed through the door that was slightly ajar, greeted by the peace and quiet of the hall, aside for muffled voices that were raised in argument coming from the room at the end.  The servant scurried to the door directly in the back of the hall and waited for me to catch up.  I quickened my pace, my footsteps muted by the embellished and worn red carpet underneath my feet.  As I drew closer, I could make out what the voices were saying. 

“Have you gone completely mad?  She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”  Chancellor Roderick’s indignant voice insisted.  

“I do not believe she is guilty,” Cassandra defended. It shocked me to hear that coming from her, but I was grateful.  I would see how long that was going to last.  I slowed my footsteps a few measures to possibly glean more information on what had happened since I was asleep.  

Roderick spoke up again, his tone dubious.  

“The prisoner failed, Seeker.  The Breach is still in the sky.  For all you know, she intended it this way.”  

Cassandra’s reply was instantaneous.  

“I do not believe that.”  

“That is not for you to decide.  Your duty is to serve the Chantry,” he argued.  The man seemed strangely attached to the desire to command, for someone supposedly working for the Chantry.  Maybe I just wasn’t used to Ferelden politics and corruption, I mused.  

“My duty is to serve the principals on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor.  As is yours,” Cassandra snapped.  His comment seemed to have struck a nerve.  

I finally reached the door and pushed it open, Leliana immediately made eye contact with me, a sense of urgency hidden within their stormy depths. All heads turned towards me, and the minute the Chancellor saw who had entered, he scowled. 

“Chain her.  I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial,” he announced loudly, pointing a finger at me.  Cassandra’s response was immediate. 

“Disregard that, and leave us,” she commanded the soldiers posted at the door.  Without question, they heeded her instruction, saluted and promptly exited the room.  I would have found the entire exchange quite comical, had the circumstances been different. The fact that the guards took to Cassandra’s word so easily apparently did not sit well with the Chancellor. 

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” he ground out.  Cassandra was impervious to his scalding remark. 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat.  I will not ignore it,” she replied harshly.  A frown formed between my brows. The Breach was somehow still in the sky, but the Rift was closed.  How? I could see the wheels turning behind the Seeker’s eyes, as if she had a plan in mind.  I looked at Chancellor Roderick, who now seemed to be regarding both me and Cassandra in contempt.  I tried to diffuse the tension. 

“I did everything I could to close the Breach.  It almost killed me,” I told him, my eyes meeting his directly.  I was unsuccessful at dissolving further tension- a mix between disgust and frustration crossed the Chancellor’s face.  The resignation I had seen him show earlier when we charged up the mountain pass was completely gone- and replaced by a horribly pretentious and smug attitude.  Anger flared in my stomach as I realized I was arguing with an idiot.  Before I could open my mouth, Cassandra cut in.  

“Have a care, Chancellor.  The Breach is not the only threat we face,” she said bitingly.  My respect for the Seeker grew- she knew how to read a room, and she knew how to play The Game. 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” Lelian began.  I nearly jumped, her presence had seemed to melt into the shadows amidst the bickering between the Seeker and the Chancellor. “Someone Most Holy did not expect.  Perhaps they died with the others- or have allies that yet live.”  

Chancellor Roderick’s eyes grew wide, his face becoming a rather unpleasant shade of red in contrast to his white robe.  

“I am a suspect?” He all but screeched. 

“You, and many others,” Leliana’s reply was firm, almost reprimanding.  

“But not the prisoner,” he beseeched dryly, his eyes heavily scrutinizing. 

 Cassandra’s resolve was stony.  

“I heard the voices in the Temple.  The Divine called on her for help,” she shot back, her tone resolute and unshakable.

Roderick shook his head, his body language displaying a healthy amount of anger and astonishment. 

“So her survival, that... thing  on her hand- all… coincidence?” He asked, gesturing his hand in mock triviality.  

“Providence.  The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour,” she said, shaking her head.  I blinked.  This explained why she was so accepting of all of this, her belief.  I did not believe in the Maker, but I knew I was outnumbered in this.  Leliana said nothing, but her face conveyed much.  Behind her cool façade was a softness in her eyes that echoed a similar sentiment- faith, hope.  They all turned to look at me at that moment, apparently choosing me as their deciding factor. I was surprised, and couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth.   

“You really think your Maker would send someone like me?”  I asked, sounding bewildered.  If only she could see, if they all could see the irony.  Them believing that their Maker, their god, sent a Tevinter elven slave that was soon to be dead to save them. I clamped my mouth shut so I wouldn’t say another word, and was thankful that my incredulity was not perceived by any of them.  

“The Maker does as He wills.  It is not for me to say,” she replied simply.  Her response shocked me.  I frowned, tilting my head, not sure if she heard me correctly. 

“Even if that means an elf is His chosen?” I asked.  

Cassandra eyed me deliberately.  

“Humans are not the only people with an interest in the fate of the world.”  

I was intrigued at how some humans differed in opinion.  It was rare to see such a strong moral opinion, especially in Tevinter.  I was even more interested in the fact that she was affiliated with a religious organization and still felt this way.  The only persons holding religious titles I knew had personalities just like the Chancellor.  

Leliana stepped forward, her eyes focused on me. 
“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”  

Rockerick scowled.  

“That is not for you to decide,” he protested.  

Cassandra clenched her jaw tightly, the muscles flexing in her neck as she turned around, whipped a large book off of a chair nearby, and slammed it on the table, causing the Chancellor to jump.  Her gloved finger pushed harshly into the tome’s old and worn binding, bearing an insignia of a metal eye on the outside.  

“Do you know what this is, Chancellor?” She asked, leaning forward over it and into his face defiantly.  “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” A silence fell over the room that was thick enough to choke a magister until she spoke again. 

“As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.  We will close the Breach, find those responsible, and we will restore order.  With or without your approval,” she commanded, taking her finger off of the large worn book and pointing it at the Chancellor.  Roderick flinched and grit his teeth, stopping himself from letting more cutting jabs escape his lips.  He promptly turned on his heel and left, slamming the door, creating a large draft that rustled pages on the table. The room was quiet for a moment, and it felt as if the air in the room begun to settle.  

Leliana had clearly had enough of his behavior, and let out a sigh mingled with relief and frustration, taking a small reprieve from the silence his exit had brought. 

“This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old.  Find those who will stand against the chaos,” she leaned against the long and roughly cut table, shaking her head, “we aren’t ready.  We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support,” she finished, motioning with her head at the door where Roderick exited moments ago.  

“But we have no choice: we must act now,” she replied, turning to me.  “With you at our side.”  

My eyes widened just a fraction before I pulled the reins on my outward emotions.  The Inquisition of old- I at least knew about that.  The world had once before been thrown into chaos, before all of the Chantry business that now dominated Ferelden.  After they had achieved their goal, they became the templar order.  Me, and several other higher-ranking espionage officials knew a slight bit more regarding history, due to the fact that we had spies infiltrating every faction within our reach- and our missions required foreknowledge before the undertaking.  A question bloomed in my mind quickly.  Cassandra was a Seeker, and I mentally slapped myself for saying anything, as it revealed a little bit more on how much I knew that I would have liked.  

“But aren’t you still part of the Chantry?” I asked blatantly, then chewed on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from asking anymore revealing questions. 

Cassandra didn’t seem to think twice about the question.  In fact, she seemed almost annoyed.  

“Is that what you see?” She snorted.  

Leliana’s eyes settled on me for a moment, moving between me and Cassandra with quiet intent.  

“The Chantry will take time to find a new divine, and then it will wait for her direction,” she said slowly.  

Cassandra’s head snapped towards Leliana. 

“But we cannot wait. So many Grand Clerics died at the Conclave… no, we are on our own.  Perhaps forever,” she said, the end of her sentence weighing heavily in the stale air.  

My mind began working through all the information and weighing options.  Leleiana’s stormy eyes settled on me once again, causing me to shift slightly.  Somehow, I didn’t die in Tevinter.  I didn't die at the Conclave, and I didn’t die closing the rift.  If I kept managing to stay alive, it would only be a matter of time before House Radonis found me.  But in the meantime, I would make it as hard for them as possible, making my own choices along the way.  My brow furrowed for a moment before looking Leliana directly in the eyes, then Cassandra.  

“If you’re truly trying to restore order…” I trailed.

“That is the plan,”  Leliana said unflinchingly. 

Cassandra stepped towards me, and reached out her hand.  

“Help us fix this before it’s too late,” she said quietly.  Her voice was resolute, but I could hear worry at the edges, hopeful I would say yes.  I was shocked at her gesture, but I knew that meant I had support.  I had their trust.  

I extended my hand back, and grasping hers in a firm shake that sealed my fate.  

Chapter Text

Holy Titles

Immediately after Cassandra grasped my hand to affirm our alliance, she practically flew out the door.  Leliana followed closely in tow until she reached the threshold. She placed her hand on the side of the frame, turning her head to look at me.  

“I assume Cassandra will want to talk about getting everything in order.  We will most likely meet together here early tomorrow morning.”  Her eyes searched my face, as if she was looking for something.  I gave her a silent nod in reply, drawing my feet closer together.  

“In the meantime, I suggest you rest,” she finished, and let her hand fall from the frame as she walked out the door. 

 I watched them go, and suddenly, the room fell completely silent- peaceful, even- as if nothing was going on outside the room- which I could finally poke around in. I looked around with quiet curiosity, examining the small details. I never thought I would find myself in a Chantry hall.  It was modestly furnished, not terribly large, it could possibly once have been a Clergyman’s office. 

‘ It would be a good place to hold meetings,’ I thought to myself, looking at the large oak table in front of me, then back to the row of old bookshelves lining the wall behind it.  I walked around the table to get a better look at what kinds of books remained here, hoping I could glean some kind of information from them. When I got up close, I noticed delicate, ornate carvings along the edges of the shelves.  My eyes passed over them to the titles of the books- nothing too impressive- and nothing that would really help or give me any clues to the history here.  I would need to walk in the Fade later to learn more about this place.  I spotted one that stood out from the rest- a worn book with a navy cover and faded gold writing.  My hands were about to graze the spine when I felt a presence at the door and a small rush of air.  I turned my head to see that small elven servant girl again.  Her short, mousy brown hair fell into her face as she bowed quickly.  I tried not to let the discomfort from the gesture show on my face, as I could tell she was already nervous enough. 
“My Lady,” she greeted, slowly rising from her bow, “a bath has been drawn for you in your quarters.  If you would like something to eat, I can have a meal brought from the tavern-” 

I put my hand up to stop her.  

“Thank you,” I said softly, my tone calm and soothing, a stark contrast to hers.  “I will take a bath, but I would rather see the tavern for myself.  Where is it?”  I asked, my hand that lingered at the bookshelf now falling to my side as I faced her.  Her eyes went wide for a moment, almost as if surprised by my answer.  She pointed quickly out the door, down the hall, and to the left slightly.
“Yes, my Lady.  It is out the main door, take the path to the left and ‘round the bend, it’s the one next to the small cabins with the braziers out front,” she chittered. 

I gave her a warm smile and nodded, which seemed to disarm her.
“Thank you.  What is your name?” I asked softly, tilting my head to one side.  

“My name?” She echoed, slightly bewildered, then shook her head as if to snap herself out of it.  “M- Marie, my Lady.”she stuttered.  

I closed my eyes and nodded to her in a warm greeting. 
“Thank you, Marie,” I said simply.  

I didn’t give her my name, because I didn’t want anyone knowing it, and I also didn’t want her to feel more uncomfortable by introducing myself so informally, since she was so insistent with titles.  She didn’t hesitate other than doing a quick, polite half-bow before scampering out of the room.  I waited for a moment and watched her begin to collect items to deliver elsewhere, all the while enjoying the feeling of the thick silence of the chamber once more before leaving for my quarters.  The crowds had mostly cleared away from my cabin, but I caught several different types of stares from the townspeople as I passed them. Once I was inside, just like Marie said, the bath was drawn.  My cabin was furnished with a full-sized bed tucked into the left hand corner, with several thick quilts atop it to keep out the cold. The covers were dressed in Ferelden reds and golds, including one navy cover that lay draped over the pillows. A small table sat at the right, and the bath was placed in the middle, steaming softly atop the worn rug over the otherwise cozy room.  I began to undress, taking off my clothes piece by piece. Thankfully, they had not changed me out of my armor during the time I was out.  I removed the thick, warm scarf that wrapped around my neck, and methodically unbuttoned the fastens of the high collar, a good shield from the frigid breeze.  I was assigned the outfit I wore before I left Tevinter- an inconspicuous disguise crafted from common Ferelden threads, that were meant to make myself appear as some servant or messenger.  As I unbuttoned the collar, I peered at my blood mark in the mirror.  A dark red crescent moon imprinted on the left side of my neck; with a single staff diagonally piercing its middle, with a smaller crescent moon speared near the top.  My index and middle finger traced it absentmindedly.  If anyone saw this, every good deed I had done, everything I had said to win favor would be wiped away immediately.  I would be disdained more than Chancellor Roderick. I chewed my lip as my vivid green eyes stared back at me in the mirror-I looked like I had been dragged through the gutter. My red hair was disheveled, dirt and blood were spattered in mismatched patterns across my face, the grime making my brown Vallaslin almost disappear. Part of me was grateful, I didn't like anyone thinking I was Dalish, because truthfully, I wasn't. I only stayed with clan Lavellan for a short time until I was adopted into house Radonis. How many years had it been? I wondered briefly. Was I six? Seven? I shook my head, a line forming between my brows as I couldn't quite recall. I tore myself away from the mirror, and took off the rest of my clothes quickly. Once I laid the garments carefully over the top of the chair next to the vanity, I approached the tall wooden tub. It looked heavy, and I was sure that Marie needed several hands to get it through the door, especially to fill it.  As I stepped over the side, I could feel my foot submerge into the hot water, and I felt instant relief. I quickly lifted my other leg and dipped the rest of myself in, including my head. The water closed over my head briefly before I came up for air, sending its warmth from the crown of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes. The bath smelled strongly of lavender, a calming scent that filled my nostrils and helped me breathe a little easier. I had no idea if the herb was easy to come by in this area, but it made me grateful nonetheless. I sighed, perhaps my kindness to Marie wasn't as overlooked as I had thought. I briefly wondered about her, where she came from, and why she had such a nervous air about her, and I hoped that she was away from whatever caused her nervous nature in the first place. I shook my head to clear the ominous memories lingering in my mind.  I didn't allow myself to think about what happened. I didn't allow my thoughts to drift, only focusing on the here and now, the future, what events I could control. I ran my fingers through my hair that turned a dark auburn from the water,  methodically working the soap through the ends to the roots and scrubbing hard at the blood and grime caked on my skin.  When I had finished cleaning myself for a second time, I almost had a mind to just turn in for the night.  My muscles were weak and tired, fatigue pulled at me even though I had rested for three days after closing the Rift. I firmly scolded myself, as I knew I had to at least survey the village and learn as much as I could about who I would be working with. With a significant amount of effort, I reluctantly pulled myself into a clean pair of clothes laid out on my bed. It was a simple tunic and a fancier fleece lined coat to keep out the cold winter air. I dried my hair as much as I could, pulling it back into a single, tight braid.  I turned to the side and frowned, noticing that the collar of the shirt didn’t give my neck as much coverage as I would have liked. I looked around for a moment to see what I could use, until I noticed my scarf draped over the chair. I picked it up, and suddenly, the warm and soft material felt a little heavier in my hands.
This is the last thing I will keep from that place. For now. I slowly put it on and adjusted it to cover most of my neck, and glanced back at the clothes on the chair.  Without a second thought, I scooped them up and threw them into the fireplace.  I wanted no trace of Minrathous with me.  I watched the material wither and burn, becoming swallowed by the amber flame, and once I was sure they were nothing but ash, I stood up and checked myself in the mirror one last time.  I looked the same, but something in me felt a little bit lighter, maybe relieved.   

“All better,” I sighed before promptly heading out the door. 

 It was dusk when I left my cabin, the sun casting a dim glow across the small, winding dirt path I followed towards the tavern.  The village of Haven was small but well organized, with decent sized structures that were well built- and by the looks of it- well cared for.  I rarely had seen a settlement so small unless I was passing through on a mission somewhere, and every time I did, it always amazed me how people managed to live with so few in number yet still remain so functional.  The tavern was located exactly where Marie described, situated next to two small cabins with two large braziers out front that were already lit, despite the lingering sun. I stopped briefly to take in my surroundings, commit the location and this part of the village to memory.  A sudden prickling at the back of my neck caught my attention- it almost felt as if I was being watched. My brow furrowed, and I turned around discreetly as if simply trying to adjust my cloak. All I saw were the backs of villagers wandering about, nothing out of the ordinary. My eyes narrowed a fraction as I turned back and quickly entered the tavern.  It was soft and warm; and the huge fire roaring in the fireplace on the far left wall took away the chill from outside, adding to its welcoming atmosphere.  Not many people were in here, it seemed to be full of what looked like regular goers.  Old men with scruffy beards were sprawled out in chairs near the fire, a tall and particularly loud older man that seemed to be the leader was seated in a tall brown chair closest to the fire.  He let out a hearty guffaw and the other men around him joined in a chattering laughter of agreement.  As I approached the bar, I found a group of scouts huddled in the corner, watching the old men talk.  One of them saw me, his brown eyes widened while he watched me with cautious curiosity, elbowing his companion.  I quickly looked away and was met by the gaze of a kind younger woman as she approached me immediately.  Her hair was dark auburn, short and spiky, with sharp cheekbones that could cut diamond to match, despite her features, her smile was warm.  

“Oh, Maker.  You’re her . The Herald of Andraste,” she declared with surprise.  The title made me bristle, but I nodded my head politely in return. 

“I don’t know about that,” I replied, shooting her a sardonic look.  “You think the Maker would send an elf to save everyone from chaos?” 

The woman smiled amusedly at my half sarcasm.  “Stranger things have happened.  But, enough with pleasantries.  I’m Flissa,” she introduced herself, putting her hands flat on the bar and leaning in brazenly.  “Fancy a drink?” She asked in a mischievous whisper.    

I was slightly shocked at her response, since most of the people here gave me looks as if I were either a golden statue, or some creepy blood mage that would prowl the streets at night.  “Actually, I was wondering if you were still serving dinner?” I asked, my eyes still a little wide.  

Without any word, Flissa turned around and scurried into a side room with a narrow door behind the bar.  Within the minute, she was back with a covered tray and a large wooden mug, setting them both down with a heavy thud in front of me.  

“How’s that for prompt service?” She asked, putting her fists on her hips, wearing a triumphant grin.  “Had it set aside for you, Lady Cassandra’s insistence.”  

My eyebrows raised at that.  Cassandra continued to surprise me at every turn- at first I had assumed she was a brash and violent soldier, only seeking to serve only the Chantry and the Maker- but there was a more compassionate and logical side to her I did not expect. 
“Thank you,” I said with a nod as I pulled the tray forward.  I uncovered the cloth from atop it, revealing a large bowl of steaming beef stew with a loaf of bread.  The hearty aroma wafted into my nostrils instantly and greatly increased the gnawing sensation in my stomach.  It was then that I heard an amused huff from my left.  

“Cassandra, doing something nice?  Wow.  You must have said something she really liked in the Valley.”  

I turned around, and matched the face with the voice quickly. 
“Varric,” I greeted.  

Varric, who was seated on the bar stool a few feet away with his elbow on the tabletop, shot me a smirk.  He was wearing the same red overcoat he had on in the Valley, although now it was unbuttoned due to the warmth of the tavern, revealing a large amount of hair covering his broad chest.  

“So. The Herald finally wakes,” he started, half dramatic and half joking, slightly moving himself in my direction.  “How are you feeling?” He asked, his head tilting to the side. 

I searched for an answer, but all I could come up with that sounded reasonable was the truth. 
“I’m.. alright, all things considered,” I nodded slowly, taking a small spoonful of the stew to my mouth.  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised at a sudden burst of flavor from the beef.  I closed my eyes for a moment, realizing the depth of my hunger, and how grateful I was for the food.  

Varric chuckled, at my small reaction or at my comment, I couldn’t tell. 
“All things considered, huh?” He chuckled, “then that makes two of us.” A loud thud hitting the solid wood caught his attention.  Flissa pushed a large tankard toward Varric, sliding it slowly across the bar before he shot her a devilish smile.  

“Ah, Flissa.  What would I do without you?” He sighed, reaching for the large mug.  

I almost missed their interaction because my cup was so full, I almost sloshed a quarter of its contents onto my hand in my haste to drink.  I managed to finally take a long sip, watching Flissa roll her eyes from the rim. 

“Die of dehydration,” she replied dryly to him before turning around and serving other customers near the end.  

Varric’s smile lingered from her joke for a moment, before he turned his hazel eyes back to me.  

“So,” he began, inspecting the contents of his mug of what I assumed to be ale by the smell, “Never thought you’d end up trying to save Thedas, huh?”  His smile was small, soft, but his eyes held an inquisitive glint.  He was curious about me.  

I stopped eating and put on a smile, my lips curling over my teeth in a soft, charming way, briefly looking down at the heavy oak tabletop. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” I agreed, quickly breaking the bread on my tray.  

It was the truth, after all , I told myself.  

“Some say I’m good with words,” Varric shrugged in agreement, his eyes seemingly passing over the crowd in the tavern with quiet intent before returning. 

“Too good,” he added disdainfully,  “So good that it made me end up here- ass deep in demons and a hole in the sky.  But you,” he paused, shifting, his leathers creaking softly.  “You seem like you’re handling it better than most.  Are you totally thrown, or is this just another Monday for you?” He asked, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the handle of his cup. 

I considered his words. Wanting to reveal as little as possible but not seem impolite, I decided to go the agreeable and somewhat truthful route. 

“Chaos is natural in Thedas, especially in Ferelden. Although I didn't expect this much chaos, I certainly expected some. I must have prepared myself more than I thought,” I replied, picking up my spoon and quickly finishing my bowl. The man in the tall chair seated near the fire laughed loudly again, the men with him muttering something about bets and stupid jokes, and something about a nug. 

“True,” he agreed, his eyes drifting to my tray and back to me as I ate.  “But I'd say there’s a fine line between normal Ferelden chaos and- all this,” he motioned with one of his hands around the room, then raised an eyebrow at me.  “Especially with all this ‘Holy Title’ business.  Which, by the way, how do you feel about that?” He asked, wearing a whisper of a lopsided grin.  “Solas said you’re Dalish, right?  I bet it feels really weird to be named some Herald of Andraste,” he chuckled. 

I blinked in surprise- I wasn’t really prepared to have more personal questions thrown at me, and the initial shock exposed me for a moment before I could recover. 
“Um,” I hesitated.  “I do hail from a Dalish clan, yes.  And, it is… odd,” I agreed slowly, choosing my words with precision, leaning back slightly, folding the cloth and setting it on top of the tray.  In the next instant, Flissa swooped by and picked up the tray, sending a grin and a wink my way before leaving for the kitchen.  Varric watched the exchange, a soft smile on his lips.  

“What do you believe?  I deflected, turning my gaze back towards him.  Varric seemed amiable enough to where I hoped he would assume it to be casual conversation.

Varric raised his brows and blew out a long winded breath through puffed cheeks.
“What do I believe?  I think the Maker is bored and wants to see a little action,” he replied with a wry chuckle.  His eyes roamed over my face for a moment, then his shoulders relaxed, almost resigned. 
“You look like hell.  You should get some rest- Cassandra will no doubt be sending the hounds out in the morning looking for you,” he quipped dryly.  

My eyes narrowed. I could tell that him giving me an out was a very calculated decision on his end.  I wanted to know the whole story behind Varric and his presence here, especially since Cassandra seemed so icy towards him, and Varric seemed to almost enjoy her annoyed glares. Since I only came to learn about surface details and keep as much as I could about myself private, I did not risk prying.  Instead, I acted as though I was weighing my options.

“No doubt.” I finally agreed, nodding, “I’ll see you later then, Varric.”  I dipped my head slightly out of reflexive respect before stopping mid-motion and quickly making my way out the door. 

You aren’t in Minrathous anymore , I scolded myself, pushing open the door to be greeted by the cold winter air.  

Would I ever be?  I wondered.  I walked around the tavern, continuing to map out the village and make note of landmarks as I digested my meal and the conversation I had with Varric.  After learning the general layout of the inside of the village, I skirted the outer borders like a shadow. It was quiet- my footsteps crunching underfoot and the muffled sounds of the town were the only noises that broke through the evening air. I was tired, yes, but I knew I would need the mental clarity and some small measure of peace before tomorrow.  Judging by Varric’s comment and the Seeker’s personality, I had no doubt in my mind she would be up bright and early.  A black raven soared overhead, pushing my thoughts toward Tevinter. The Conclave was supposed to have been a simple reconnaissance mission- learn what information we could to stick more of House Radonis within powerful organizations in Ferelden- standard political dealings.  No doubt once my reports didn’t arrive, they would have begun to scramble to find any information as to why.   

 It was only a matter of time before they came to collect me.  The thought sent an extra chill down my spine. 

“ Why didn’t you come back to me, my sweet? ” Jacovis’ voice echoed in my brain.  

I never wanted to go back.  Gods only knows they would most likely torture and kill me for not returning- an act of treason. My mark sparked painfully and I winced, my other hand quickly flew up to ease the singeing pain in my palm.  This… this mark was magic in nature, of that I had no doubt- but from where?  And if anyone in Tevinter knew I had it and didn’t decide to kill me, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine the experiments they would run on me, what they could possibly use me for.  As I rounded the bend near the docks, my mind swirling with morbid potential futures, I felt it again- that same prickling sensation. This time, I turned around quickly, but still spotted nothing out of the ordinary….

Except for a figure on the hill.  Right near the Tavern.  

They were tall and lean, leaning on a familiar silver staff that glinted ominously in the moonlight, along with an aura of calming magic.

It was Solas.  

It must have been him that was watching me earlier this evening , I thought.  

 He didn’t move once I had turned to face him, his stance not quite inviting, not quite rejecting.  He seemed…. curious.  My cloak rustled faintly in the breeze for a moment, until I turned to continue my walk, heading out of view in order to enter the large main gates.  Who was he?  I began to sort through possibilities.  Though he bore no Vallaslin, he had identified mine instantly and began asking me about my origins, yet he was obviously not Dalish.  He bore no slave brand that I could see, and spoke in too much of an educated manner to be from an alienage- he was a mystery.  I wandered back to my cabin, washed up, and tried pushing all the thoughts out my mind as best as I could.  I rummaged around the chest on the table- leftover ingredients from the time it took to heal me up, and found a small vial of elfroot. I breathed a sigh of relief as I hoped it would be enough to put me to sleep tonight.  I chewed on the somewhat fresh leaves absentmindedly, slipping out of my clothes and right into the bed. 

Fortunately, it did not take long for fatigue to pull my eyes closed into a blessed, dreamless sleep. 

Chapter Text

Yes, it Bothers me

I awoke the next morning to bright orange sunbeams glaring into my eyes, and Marie setting a tray down on the table.  Her eyes met mine and went wide for a moment before relaxing- just slightly.  I greeted her with a soft nod of my head, to which she returned, along with a small smile before opening the door.  

“Lady Cassandra awaits your presence in the Chantry, my Lady,” she said quietly before giving me one last look, and closing the door. The silence of the room greeted me once more, and I sighed, taking one last deep breath before pulling myself out of bed and getting ready. My body felt heavy, my eyes were still blurry from the sleep I desperately needed.   I braided my hair quickly and pulled on the same clothes I had worn after bathing the night before.  Haven was relatively quiet this morning, I noticed, as I made my way towards the largest building in the village.  The Chantry that stood in the center was made mostly of stone, its architecture impressive compared to the smaller wooden buildings surrounding it. Several Ferelden flags atop it flew proudly, the golden lions sewn into it gleaming in the bright sun. I heard Cassandra’s voice carry over the breeze, and found her talking with a woman wrapped tightly in leathers, holding a sword in her hands.  Freckles dotted her face, and her brows were furrowed intently as she listened to the Seeker’s words.  She turned slightly to adjust her stance, then her eyes caught sight of my bright red hair.  She squinted, looking me up and down in a harsh manner before Cassandra turned her head to see what had caught her attention.  She stopped mid-sentence once she realized it was me, muttered a few words to the other woman in polite dismissal, and strode to meet me where I was standing.  

“Good morning, Herald, " she greeted, “did you sleep well?” If Cassandra was tired, she hardly showed it, other than her face looking slightly drawn- I had expected her to look worse, considering she fought an enormous Rage Demon merely days ago.  It made me even more curious about her.  

I nodded to her in greeting. “Good morning.  Yes, thank you.  I was told you have news?” I asked, not skipping a beat.  Cassandra nodded her head in reply and motioned for me to join her.  I fell in step beside her, and we began walking up the wide dirt path to the Chantry Hall.  

“There has been much,” she agreed, the metal armor piece on her shoulder glinting in the sunlight.  “All of us have gathered in the old Revered Mother’s office to discuss our next steps,” she said, and pushed open the heavy Chantry doors.  My brows drew together slightly at her words in surprise and in thought. Apparently, women were in power so much to the point there were specific titles for them in Ferelden- I would have to learn more about this, I noted to myself. Two soldiers posted on either side saluted as we entered and we wordlessly made our way down the long hall.  Cassandra glanced at me from the side, her eyes settling on my face, then my marked hand.  Then, she surprised me again.  

“Does it bother you?” She asked, her voice soft, almost unsure.  

Never let them see you bleed.

I shook my head.  “No, not anymore.  It’s stopped spreading, and it doesn’t hurt,” I replied quickly, looking down at my hand.  

What was it?  Why was it there?  Why couldn’t I remember where I had gotten it- and why did it only hurt sometimes? I wondered to myself.  

Cassandra’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, oblivious to the silent questions I turned over in my mind.

“Good.  What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach.  You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed- provided the mark has more power.  The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.  That is not easy to come by,” she explained grimly, her mouth hardened in a firm line.  

Behind her eyes, I could see wheels turning, despite her understanding of the odds against us.  

“Clearly, you have something in mind?” I prompted, my green eyes meeting her smoky brown ones.  

She nodded.  

“We do.”  Cassandra opened the smaller door that led to the large office and I stepped inside, greeted by low flickering candlelight.  Three figures stood around the table- only one was familiar.  They all looked up as we entered, and Cassandra did not hesitate to start introductions.  

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” she gestured towards him.  The Commander’s eyes were molten amber, never leaving my form as he studied me intently.  He nodded politely before his gaze flicked towards Cassandra.  

“Such as they are.  We lost many soldiers in the Valley, and I fear many more before this is through,” he stated gravely. His stance was that of a soldier, with his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his honey colored hair emitting a soft glow in the torchlight.  An odd song and sweet scent lingered in the air around him. 

Cassandra motioned to a woman with sun kissed skin, embellished clothes and elegantly styled black hair. 

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

Josephine turned to give me a small, graceful curtsey. 

“Andaran Atish’an,” she greeted in Elven, with a slight Antivan accent. 

I blinked. 

“You speak Elven?” I asked, momentarily forgetting my manners due to my mild surprise. 

Josephine gave me a small smile, her teeth a pearly white. 

“You just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid,” she replied sheepishly. 

Cassandra looked to the last person in the room, the only person I had recognized of the three. 

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana.” 

Leliana stepped forward, her arms folded behind her back. 

“My position involves a degree of…”

“-She is our Spymaster,” Cassandra finished quickly, sensing her pause.  

Leliana’s lips curled in an amused smile.  

“Yes.  Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

I looked between them, stepping forward, feeling the need to insert social graces.  

“Pleased to meet you all,” I greeted, my head dipping slightly in acknowledgment.  My gaze met Leliana’s before I continued.  “Cassandra tells me you have a plan?” 

Cassandra spoke first, looking between me and Leliana.  

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the breach for good.”  

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana agreed.  

“I still disagree.  The Templars could serve just as well,” Cullen interjected firmly.  His brows creased in the middle of his forehead from the frown he wore. It seemed to settle easily, as if he did it more often than he should.  

Cassandra shook her head.  

“We need power, Commander.  With enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Might destroy us all.  Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”  

“Pure speculation,” Leliana said calmly, her gaze face stony, unfazed.  

The Commander’s frown grew deeper, his amber eyes glowing with some unknown emotion, but one I could tell ran deep.  

“ I was a Templar,” he said lowly, “I know what they’re capable of.”

“ So, he is one of these tabooed ‘Templars’ ,” I thought to myself. Maybe that’s why I sensed some sort of odd magic from him?

Josephine, who had calmly and politely observed the conversation and kept to herself the entire time, finally spoke up.  

“Unfortunately, neither group will speak to us yet,” she began, adjusting her quill in her hand.  “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition-” Josephine stopped, and turned to me. “And you, specifically.”  

I held back a snort.  

“ Well, that was quick ,” I thought to myself.  

“That didn’t take long,” I rephrased the comment aloud with almost an interrogative inflection, rather than the sarcastic remark that was running through my head.  

Josephine wore a flat look at my comment, not pleased with the situation. Cullen, however, frowned again and nodded in what looked like agreement.  

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” He asked, the hand that didn’t rest on the butt of his sword motioned aimlessly in the air near his chestplate. 

I had never thought about approaching either group until it was brought up.  Was it even possible? I didn’t have time to question the possibility long- Josephine had turned towards me, her gaze softening slightly- wearing the emotion of- pity? Sympathy, perhaps?

“Some are calling you- a Dalish Elf- the ‘Herald of Andraste.’” That frightens the Chantry,” she explained delicately.  “The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we: heretics for harboring you.”

Cassandra bit the inside of her cheek.  

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” she muttered.  

Josephine sighed, looking at the Seeker resignedly for a moment before staring at the war table in thought. 

“It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.”  

There it was again- that title.  I couldn’t stop myself from asking.  

“Just how am I the Herald of Andraste ?” I asked, an unwanted hint of dryness present in my tone.  

Cassandra turned her head in my direction, her expression passive and eyes distant as she thought aloud.

“People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman in the Rift when we first found you.  They believe that was Andraste.” 

Leliana’s gaze drifted over Cassandra and I.  

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-” 

“Which we have not,” Cassandra cut in, raising her eyebrows as her gaze settled on the table.  

“The point is, Leliana continued, her eyes shooting to the Seeker and back to me, “ everyone is talking about you.”  A small smile of amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth.  

The sound of fabric and leather shifting pinned my ear, drawing my attention.  Cullen leaned forward, now focused on me, searching my face.  

It’s quite the title.  How do you feel about that?” He asked inquisitively, a touch of warmth present in his tone- one that mirrored Varric’s sentiment last night in the tavern.  

How many people were going to ask me that question?  More importantly, why even bother to ask at all?  

“ Information, of course ,” I answered myself  in my head with an internal sigh. I could feel the prickling feeling of all eyes on me. I decided to give them the same answer I gave Varric, with a few small revisions.  

“It’s… a little unsettling,” I hesitated.  Fortunately, Cullen’s reply came almost immediately.  

“I’m sure the Chantry would agree,” he chuckled dryly.  Cullen looked over me once more, his shoulders slightly more sloped than before- he was satisfied and a little more at ease from my response.  

“People are desperate for a sign of hope.  For some, you’re that sign,” Leliana said.  

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” Josephine sighed.  Her comment settled a foreboding feeling over the room.  The once comforting dimness of the room now in ominous shadow from the flickering candles.  

My mind wandered around the discussion.  The Chantry had already made their stand- they didn’t want anything to do with me, which was a somewhat wise course of action, for a large religious organization, surely.  Shut out the unknown- I was used to that.  

Tainted blood . 

They couldn’t attack us, at least, not with swords.  The only thing they could do was slander and sneer, which was the least of my concerns. But the fact they were not addressing the Breach at all… I voiced my next thought aloud.  

“They aren’t more concerned about the Breach?  The real threat?” I asked incredulously, one of my brows raising and breaking my smooth facade.  

“They do know that it is a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it,” the Commander muttered in reply.  

“The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse,” Josephine added apprehensively, fidgeting with her quill and shifting her weight.  

Leliana, who had been gazing very intently at the bookshelf, blinked and straightened.  

“There is something you can do,” she said quietly, thoughtfully mapping out the rest of a well-formed plan.  

Her dark eyes flicked to me. “A Chantry Cleric named Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.  She is not far, and knows far better than I.  Her assistance could be invaluable.”  She paused for a moment, waiting to gauge my response.  

I thought it was a good idea.  It was what we needed- an in with the Chantry.  

And more connections means more power , my internal voice urged.  

But there was something else that puzzled me.  

“Why would someone from the Chantry help a declared heretic?” I asked, turning to face Leliana and leaning more of my weight on my right leg.  

She nodded in acknowledgement at my confusion.  

“I understand she is a reasonable sort.  Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters?” She offered.  

It wasn’t much to go on, but at least it was something- a way forward. 

“You’ll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana finished, glancing at the map.  

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” the Commander put in.  

Josephine nodded minutely in agreement.  

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this Valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”  

Cassandra frowned.  

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options.  I won’t leave all of this to the Herald,” she said, still staring at the table, as if glaring would force it to reveal a hidden solution.  

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I didn’t notice the knot forming in my chest until Cassandra spoke.  

“Very well then.  I suggest we part at dawn,” I said, and the others nodded quietly, the only other sound in the room was from the flames eating at the wicks of the candles.  

Cassandra looked over at me, her fingers splayed on top of a map.  

“Varric, Solas and I will accompany you. We will need all the strength we have, considering the forces against us,” she said determinedly, pushing off from the table and making her way out the door. 

Cullen watched her go, and I could swear I could see what he was thinking by watching the expression on his face, it was the same as mine.  Cassandra certainly wasted no time with pleasantries.  

Chapter Text

Crimson Roads and Tears in the Universe  

The journey from Haven to the Crossroads felt longer than it really was. My mind began to race from mere moments after I had awakened in the early morning; and the suns’ rays had barely begun to peak over the mountains and into the village before I left my quarters. Cassandra and Solas were waiting at the gates, along with Leliana, Josephine, and the Commander. The Seeker was pacing restlessly, while Solas stood still beside her with a cool expression, his eyes pensive and his hands folded eloquently on his silver staff- the stark contrast between him and Cassandra were almost comical. Leliana seemed to sense me before I was coming and straightened slightly. The sudden shift in her posture alerted Josephine, who turned her head then quickly faced me, dipping her head in a small greeting. 

“Herald, I trust you slept well?” She inquired politely.  

“Yes, thank you. All ready?” I asked, shifting my pack on my shoulder, looking to Cassandra, who had stopped pacing. 

“We are missing all but one. Where is he?” She growled.  

It was then that we heard a gravelly voice behind us, and I turned to see Varric half dragging himself up the small hill to meet us. 

“Here! Here. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he grumbled the last part of his sentence. Cassandra scowled, and I could see she was biting the inside of her cheek. I could tell he had woken up late, his clothes were in slight disarray, and shadows were still present underneath his eyes. He adjusted his crossbow- Bianca, was it?- and gave me a sleepy wink. 

“Well, now that we are all here,” Josephine said with a quick and charming smile, “do let us know what you find at the Crossroads.”

“Be careful out there. Reports coming in say mage and Templar fighting is out of hand,” Cullen warned, his eyes making contact with mine. 

“My scouts say rift activity is unpredictable as well,” Leliana concurred. 

Solas finally spoke up, his voice quiet. 

“Undoubtedly from all the magic and lyrium creating disturbances. We should attempt to stop as much expulsion of magic as we can, then address the rifts, if possible.” 

I nodded, getting an itching feeling in my toes, not only from the cold settling in, but from anxiousness. I wanted to move. 

“Right, then,” I agreed simply, and walked ahead of them and out of the gates. I heard a few murmurs and then a series of muffled footfalls as everyone fell into step behind me, except Cassandra, who walked by my side to give me directions. 

The journey out was not very eventful for the first several hours, and I was glad because it gave me more time to think, to plan. Varric was mostly the one who stirred up conversation, making jokes, a lot of them at Cassandra’s expense. The air grew warmer, and we finally reached a cobbled path that I could only assume was leading towards the Crossroads. The further we walked, the more I felt this odd tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers. It was almost as if I had plunged them into snow and then stuck them in hot water immediately after. I began fidgeting with my pack to mitigate the feeling, but then Varric said something that made me stop. 

“Anyone know what… that is?” He asked, almost sounding incredulous. 

I frowned and looked up, and my eyes widened. Glimmering green light of the Fade tore the air on either side of us, creating what looked like to be, small pockets. 

‘ So that is what was causing the feeling of needles in my fingers ,’ I mused, stepping closer to one of the holes. 

“Herald, I wouldn’t get so close to-“ Cassandra stopped, cut off by Solas raising his hand, who approached on my right, his gaze transfixed on the same thing mine was. 

“These are-“

“-Holes into the Fade,” I breathed in awe, finishing Solas’ thought. I heard nothing for a moment, aside from a soft exhale through his nose. 

“Yes. Can you feel it? The magic in the air,” he asked, almost as if he already knew the answer, but I was too engrossed in the anomaly to pry. 

“Yes, I can feel it,” I whispered, reaching my hand out tentatively to feel the energy surrounding the tear tickle my fingertips.  I was amazed- I had never seen anything like this before; a piece of the Fade, a world I half grew up in, now permeating our world.  I had no idea how long I had stood there staring, but my gaze shifted when I heard Varric clear his throat.  

“Okay, totally not creepy,” He muttered, adjusting the strap that held Bianca over his shoulder.  “You know, most people wouldn’t find a hole in reality fascinating.”

His comments snapped me out of my reverie, and I found Solas still glued to his spot peering over my shoulder, studying the tear, his lips parted ever so slightly as if he were still trying to decide what to make of it.  He suddenly blinked and his eyes flicked to mine, apparently pulled out of his own thoughts too, before looking over at Varric with what almost seemed like measured disdain. 

“Solas, what are we seeing?” Cassandra half commanded in her unease, warily regarding the two of us so close to the Fade magic. 

Solas paused for a moment before he spoke, his expression quickly smoothed. 

“We are seeing tears in reality, glimpses into the Fade, likely from rifts and excessive magic in the area. These are harmless, though I advise we exercise caution. There may be danger ahead.” His eyes drifted away from Cassandra, to the Fade tear, and settled on me for a few moments. They seemed to be pensive, and I saw something else in them I couldn't quite place. 

“Well, I don't know about you, but I would rather find whatever is causing this and put a stop to it,” Varric said, clearly having enough of it and walking forward again in his eagerness to get away from the magic. Cassandra followed behind him, her actions a wordless agreement, while Solas and I trailed behind. We found more small tears occasionally as we walked, and I began rubbing my fingertips together once more as the buzzing in them grew stronger. 

“Does it hurt?” He asked. 

I quickly turned my head to see Solas motioning towards my hands. 

This was the first time we had a chance to talk, and I suddenly remembered all the things I wanted to ask him. 

‘ My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle Mage ,’ his words echoed in my mind. 

He knew more about the Fade than anyone here it seemed, yet I had no idea where he came from. I wanted to learn all I could to understand what magic was on my hand- not to mention the fact that I hadn’t met anyone who could walk the Fade as I have, though I wasn’t sure how much real ‘exploring’ he had done. But I was curious, so curious. 

‘ Don’t reveal your secrets, ’ I scolded myself. Maybe I would ask. Maybe, If he seemed trustworthy enough, it would be worthwhile to hear what he would say- providing he was willing to answer at all. I blinked, unsure how long I had stayed silent for, but it must not have been long, because Solas’ expression remained unchanged. 

“No, but my hands have needles in them,” I replied quietly, frowning as I looked down. There was no point in denying or deflecting the obvious- Solas was observant, I would need to remember that. I stopped fidgeting with my hands to not draw attention to them, and he nodded. 

“I see,” he replied just as softly, “I believe it is caused by the Fade’s magic and your mark.” He drew breath as if he were about to speak, but paused for a moment. 

“Did you have sensitivity to the Fade before this happened?” He asked. 

I didn't want to answer that- it was too personal, too revealing. I opened my mouth, about to tell a lie, when I was saved by a thunderous crack . Up ahead just over the hill we crested, was a small village- the Crossroads. The town was teeming with mages and Templars, fighting each other with magic and swords. I could see familiar Inquisition armor in the midst of the battle below. 

“Inquisition forces! They're trying to protect the refugees!” Cassandra gasped, also recognizing the mark of our soldiers. 

All of us ran down the hill, drawing our weapons. I immediately dodged a spell flying at me from my right that barely missed my head, the ice shards shattering into a cabin behind me. Even though we were dressed in different clothing, to all of them, we were just another enemy; an unknown, and they didn’t hesitate to try and eliminate us. It left us no choice but to fight back. 

“Solas! The townspeople-“ Cassandra yelled over the sound of swords clashing.

“Understood!” Solas called back, already in the process of throwing barriers around multiple stragglers, trying to direct them to a path of safety.  Cassandra was fending off incoming attacks to defend Solas, while Varric backed Cassandra, picking off incoming Templars from the rear.  I saw a fireball miss Varric by about two feet, and began using disrupting spells to distract them so he could maneuver safely. I heard an enraged cry and turned just in time to see an elven mage that was no older than I was, with madness in her eyes as she charged at Cassandra. 

‘ She must have mistaken her for a Templar ,’ 

 I thought.  

I started summoning energy to disarm her when I felt something, a pulling feeling in my body that sapped my energy and made my limbs feel heavy like lead. I felt as if I were being suffocated, and it took all of my willpower to quell the rising panic within me as I watched my magic die in my fingertips.  What was this? What was happening? I stood still as stone and also saw the girl freeze in her tracks. 

“No!” She screamed, her arms flying up to clutch her throat, and her knees buckling into the mud. There was no time to stop the Templar that came up behind her and plunged his long sword through her chest. She gasped, her eyes wide and frozen with fear until the soldier yanked the blade out, leaving her to fall face down in the mud, motionless. I tried to move my own body to stop the Templar from coming towards us now, but I couldn't. I stayed there, feeling like I was drowning on dry land, invisible bands of tension coiling around and squeezing my chest. The hum of the Fade that I could almost always hear grew quiet, the noise of screams and swords grew muffled.  The deafening silence roared in my ears, the only sound that I could hear now was of my racing heart thudding frantically in my chest. I grew dizzy and my vision blurred, but I could tell there was a presence at my back. A loud metallic noise resounded in the air, and the heavy feeling seemed to suddenly ebb away just enough for me to move.   I turned around quickly, trying to make sense of my surroundings and what just happened, to see Cassandra head to head with the same Templar that killed that girl. 

“Stop! We are not apostates!” She yelled at him, gritting her teeth and grunting as she pushed her sword back against his, but it didn’t matter, he kept pushing it against her.

“I do not think they care, Seeker,” Solas called over his shoulder mid-spell.  I could see the strained look in her eyes, that pleading look for someone to see reason, but I knew that she understood it would never happen.  Cassandra found an opening in his stance and took the opportunity, plunging her sword into his stomach straight through his armor from the side, using her own shield to push his away.  The coils around my chest released instantly as the Templar fell, the sound of the battle and the hum of the Fade returning like a wave. I let out a breath of relief I didn’t know I was holding. 

‘ That must be their power ,’ I thought, realization hitting me, ‘ What I felt… Templars… can take away magic. ’

I blinked a few times, still dizzy, then I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I looked up to see Cassandra’s eyes intensely boring into mine, her lips moving, she was saying something. 

“Alright?” I heard the tail end of her sentence and was fairly certain she was asking about my welfare.  I had no idea if my reaction to the strange magic was normal, but I nodded quickly and straightened my back, holding my staff close. I barely had time to collect myself before having to be on the defense against a band of mages. When I moved, I almost tripped over the body of the mage girl. I looked at her fallen form for a moment, and something in my chest twisted- sympathy, I was sure.  I only knew tensions between mages and Templars in Ferelden were high, but not why, or to what extent. This really painted a picture. Mages were almost always considered upper class in Tevinter- except elves - even having mage slaves was a sign of a higher class status, but here… everything was different. I was never told of how Ferelden politics functioned, I was never allowed to know partially because there was no need, but clearly mages here were scared of these Templars. And these mages were feared by everyone else. 

 It took us a long time to halt all of the fighting, and none of the Templars or mages would listen to reason. In the end, when the dust settled, all of us were scraped up. The village was half-destroyed by magic and fire, but the people that remained were alright, despite being in shock. Every able-bodied man in the town not tending to their family helped clear the bodies away, but the streets were still stained red. Magic lingered in the air, and the scent of it and the lyrium mixed together made my head ache just behind my eyes. All of us stood there, chests heaving, taking in the aftermath silently. Once I had regained a small amount of strength, I went up the hill to where the injured lay. Mother Giselle was indeed there, her once pristine red and white robes were dirty from being on the grass for so long, with a small amount of blood on the edges of her sleeves. She was middle aged for a human, maybe a hair before, but her eyes were more tired looking than they should have been, most likely from tirelessly tending to the sea of people surrounding her feet. A townsperson dressed in simple leather armor clutched her arm, gasping. 

“Don't let them touch me mother,” he ground out, their magic…” the man trailed, whispering the last part of his sentence with fear in the edges of his voice. 

Mother Giselle furrowed her brows slightly. 

“Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade,” she hushed him gently. 

The man protested, trying to sit up more despite his wound across his chest. 

“But…” he began. 

“Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering, she soothed. He was about to say more when I walked up behind them. 

“Mother Giselle?” I asked cautiously. She looked up, squinting from the sun slightly. Her eyes searched my face for a moment, and a soft, knowing smile bloomed on her lips. 

“I am,” she concurred, rising slowly and turning to face me. “And you, must be the one they are calling ‘The Herald of Andraste.’ “ 

“Is that why you asked for me? The Chantry has already-“ I began to say, tilting my head to the side before Mother Giselle held up her hand. 

“I know what they’ve done,” she answered quickly. I gave her a puzzled look, and she answered my expression with a knowing smile and turned to walk down the hill, silently signaling me to walk with her. We made our way back into town, maneuvering around the remaining dead that hadn’t yet been collected, and remnants of structures that were left destroyed or half standing. 

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I am familiar with those behind it. I will not lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, taken from us…” she trailed, her eyes closing firmly in distaste as she shook her head. 

“But… don't you stand with the rest of the Chantry?” I asked. I needed to know if she was surely on our side. 

Mother Giselle smiled, a glint of sadness in her eyes. 

“With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscience, and mine tells me this: go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have only heard frightening tales of you- give them something else to believe.”

My mouth hardened into a thin line. I knew that was going to be hard to accomplish, if we decided to do what she was suggesting. 

“Will that even work?” I asked her. 

She nodded her head in understanding, while carefully stepping over a large pile of rubble. 

“Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt . Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.” 

“And how much confidence do you have in them, that they would be swayed?” I asked. 

Mother Giselle sighed. “Enough, I hope. Perhaps… with the right help. I honestly do not know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.” Mother Giselle grabbed my hand, her eyes staring intently into mine despite the glaring sun before she spoke again. “ I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry that would be amenable to a gathering.  It is not much, but I will do whatever I can,” she promised quietly.  

For the first time since the explosion at the Conclave, some semblance of hope began to flare in my chest. I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed her hand still holding mine, causing her to meet my steadfast gaze. 

“It is more than I could have hoped to ask for. Thank you, truly,” I said quietly. 

Mother Giselle smiled softly and nodded her head. “We shall see what happens, Maker willing,” she replied, and headed back through the small village to tend to the wounded. As I watched her go, I wondered why she decided to believe differently than the rest of her sisters. 

It was late when we finally made camp for the night. Between all the clean up, talking to Corporal Vale- a man with a large heart that certainly did not fit his stern countenance- and helping the refugees, the moon was high in the sky when we were ready to rest. Some of the soldiers had already set up lodgings in a makeshift resting area.  Red, tall tents stood pitched near the edge of the village, sitting just below a hill with a lone tree standing on its crest. I looked up at the moon with wide eyes- it was so large. And the stars- there were so many. I was never able to see many in Minrathous, there was too much light there, even at the outskirts of the city. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” An unfamiliar voice asked.  I jumped, too lost in thought to notice someone walking up beside me, and looked down.  A dwarven woman with freckles and red hair looked up at the sky, looking just as amazed as I was.  When I startled, she looked down quickly and blinked.

“Sorry for the fright,” she apologized sheepishly.  “You must be The Herald of Andraste.  I’ve heard the stories- everyone has.  We know what you did at the Breach,” she said, as if she had been waiting to say these words for a while now.  

I paused for a moment, trying not to feel so uncomfortable still from that title.  She must have taken my discomfort for something else, because she looked around and stepped closer as if she were about to impart a secret.  

“It’s… odd for a Dalish elf to care about what happens to anyone else, but you’ll get no backtalk here.  That’s a promise,” she said with a resolute nod.  I tried to explain that I wasn’t worried about what other people thought, but more concerned with being called a religious figure.  

“Well-” 

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service.  I- all of us here- we’ll do whatever we can to help,” she said, turning her head slightly to look back at the rest of the soldiers milling about the camp.  I saw the confidence she held in her posture, and the hope hiding quietly in the depths of her eyes.  I was suddenly glad I didn’t say anything about titles.  The people seemed to need it more than I had thought, and plus- it would serve as a good cover.  For now.  

“Harding, huh?”  I heard Varric ask, and turned to see him plop down a heavy satchel on a nearby rock, wearing an inquisitive grin. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” He asked. 

“I can’t say I have.  Why?” She asked with a confused frown.  

“Because you’d be Harding in… oh never mind,” he mumbled, clearly referencing something only he knew.  It was then that I heard Cassandra make a noise that I could only describe as a disgusted scoff, rolling her eyes as she undid the ties to her small bedroll.   I turned my head back to Scout Harding, who was as confused as I, one of her brows raised slightly.  

“I’m starting to worry about these ‘stories’ everyone has heard,” I said to Harding with a slight chuckle.  Perhaps she could tell me what everyone has been thinking from the outside.  

Scout Harding smiled and swatted the air with her hand.  

“Oh.  There’s nothing to worry about.  They only say you’re the last great hope for Thedas,” she said nonchalantly.  I was too nervous to be able to tell if she was mostly joking, or mostly serious.  

“Oh.  Wonderful,” I said, hearing something that sounded an awful lot like a snort from Varric, who was still listening in.  

Harding laughed gently.  

“But talking seriously,” she began before cautiously glancing to the side, “Things are pretty dire.  We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster.  I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herd were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks.  But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet.  Maker only knows if he’s still alive.  As you know, Mother Giselle is here helping refugees and the wounded.  Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too.  Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out for very long,” she explained grimly.  

I nodded.  

“Then it is best for us to stay and stabilize the area.  The less fighting, the safer the refugees and the area, the less likely it will draw more mage and Templar fighting.  That way, we can actually get to Dennet to see if he’s alive,” I half suggested, half mused aloud. “If you all keep helping the refugees, we will scout the area, close rifts that need closing and gather materials.  Once the area ahead is clear, we’ll let you know.”   Something sparked in Harding’s eyes, almost akin to admiration.  

“Sounds like a plan.  We’ll keep hold here until you give us the signal,” she said, giving me an abrupt salute before dismissing herself to talk to another soldier.  

“Done like a natural.  You sure you haven’t done this before?” Varric asked, looking up at me from the book he was writing in.  I looked briefly at him, then the book before letting out a breathy chuckle.  

“Definitely sure,” I said with a sigh and a raised brow. 

“I doubt our Herald appreciates your ‘humorous remarks’ Varric,” Cassandra rather harshly insisted as she tied up her satchel and placed it near her tent. 

“What? Come on, Seeker. What’s life without a little fun?” He asked, leaning his elbow on his right knee. “Especially after taking down too many mages and Templars, saving refugees, closing rifts. Maker’s balls. It sounds so grim when I say it out loud,” he muttered. 

“Then let us hope that our efforts here will yield results. This Mother Giselle has proven to be useful, has she not?” Solas quietly interjected, not looking up from his map until he asked the question. 

I nodded. 

“Yes. She offered to help the Inquisition- tell Leliana what she knows. Apparently she has a list of contacts within the Chantry that are unsure about the decision to oppose us,” I explained, tilting my head to the side in thought. 

“Perhaps she can convince the people that are beyond our reach. This is good,” Cassandra said with a small sigh of relief present at the end of her sentence. 

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll turn something up. Maybe it won’t. But I know one thing: it’ll make for a great story,” Varric said with a grin, raising his eyebrows at her. Cassandra rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she got up briskly to enter her tent. 

“Goodnight,” she called from behind her shoulder. 

“Sleep tight, Seeker,” Varric called back. 

Solas only frowned and leaned forward a little, more intent on what he was studying. 

I was intensely curious about what Varric was writing and what Solas was reading, but since I wanted to keep to myself as much as possible, I decided to wander a bit outside the village. I walked up the hill to the small tree that stood by itself, leaning against it and looking up at the stars again. I sighed, putting my hand on the belt at my waist and feeling something missing. Frowning, I looked down, finding that my daggers were missing from their usual spots, and remembered that I didn't bring them with me on the away mission to the Conclave. I could wield a staff easily enough, but I worked better with something shorter, something I could carry closer to me. Bringing weapons when disguised as a servant would be a giveaway, not that I needed a weapon to be dangerous, I mused. I briefly mulled over seeing if I could get a new pair from Harritt, but mages from this area- especially Dalish mages- never wielded daggers. 

‘ It would look suspicious ,’ I tutted to myself. I lay down in the soft grass, using my cloak to cover up as the cool breeze threatened to seep through it. 

It was easy to forget what was happening out here. It’s why I liked being alone. I used to always be sent out on missions alone, whether it be taking down a target or simply scouting work. I enjoyed the night silently and the peace that it brought, pushing all the thoughts and questions about Ferelden and Tevinter out of my mind. I began breathing deeply, and felt the comforting hum of the Fade beneath my fingers once more, which was stronger here due to the rifts in the area. I focused on that feeling, my eyes slowly drifting shut, and I let the Fade take me into a world of dreams and memories.

Chapter Text

The Horsemaster

“Has anyone seen the Herald?” Cassandra asked, more frustrated at the fact that she didn’t have the answer she was looking for. It was early morning, but the village was already starting to stir. She did not like to wait. 

“Maybe she decided to make a break for it. I wouldn't blame her,” Varric joked as he wiped a drop of dried blood from the previous day’s work off of Bianca. 

Cassandra scowled, her eyes narrowing. She was about to come up with a retort, but was cut off. 

“She slept on the hill to the east,” Solas replied simply, adjusting the strap on his tall leather field boot. 

Cassandra and Varric looked at each other, then at him, clearly surprised at his keen observation. 

***

“I’m right here,” I announced myself from behind Cassandra. 

Both Cassandra and Varric jumped as they turned around, clearly not expecting me to be standing there. Solas, on the other hand, calmly walked up next to the Seeker in order to face me. 

“Good morning,” he greeted with a polite nod, the expression he wore looked like something akin to amusement to which I returned before moving my eyes to the other two. 

“All is well this morning?” I asked.

Cassandra blinked, snapping herself out of her surprise and back to business. 

“Yes. There have been no reports of more fighting close enough to us to be a threat, although Corporal Vale has found an apostate mage camp within a day’s journey from here.” 

“Alright then, let us clear the area towards Dennett’s farm, then travel a wide circle back to survey the area,” I suggested, to which no one argued- it was as good of a plan as any. 

We traveled north-west, across mostly grassy terrain.  We encountered several groups of bandits that Corporal Vale had mentioned were lingering about the area.  Evidence of the fighting was everywhere we looked: brown scorch marks on patches of grass and on the rocky edges of the mountains that lined the valley, and a forgotten body that lay face-down in the river.  Varric and I dragged it out onto the bank in an attempt to keep the water supply clean, then crossed through the chilly water carefully. We knew when we reached Dennett’s lands, as the rough terrain softened into gentle, sloping hills and green lush grass.  Sturdy fences lined either side of the wide, heavily-trodden path we walked on.  Varric turned his head to the side, looking at the well-made fencing, and let out a low, impressed whistle.  The rest of the journey up the hill was made in silence until we neared the top.  We stopped in front of a rather large well-built house, with a small garden and outbuilding to the side.  A bald, older gentleman with chocolate skin and a gray beard stood in front of a large stack of crates with his hands on his hips, occasionally shuffling them around and muttering to himself.  

“This must be the horsemaster,” Solas noted quietly, his eyes looking over the man.  

We barely reached hailing distance when he turned, as if he sensed our approach.  His bright blue eyes quickly looked us up and down.

“Ah.  ‘Bout time you all showed up,” he gruffed.  

“Master Dennett, I presume?” I called back as I put a hand up to my brow to shield my eyes from the sun.  

He nodded, causing sweat that was dripping down his forehead to fall faster, despite the chill in the air.  

“Here,” he huffed, motioning towards the crates with one of his hands, “take some and follow me.”  He picked up a crate with a grunt, making his way to the barn several yards across the field.  Cassandra shot me an incredulous look, and her eyes held an inquisitive glint, but I paid her no mind.  If we wanted to receive Dennett’s help, we would need to return the favor- something I understood well.  Each of us took a crate, and wordlessly followed several paces behind him. I breathed a grateful sigh that there was enough for only one trip as we set the boxes down in a neat stack just near the entrance, where Master Dennett had set his.  He brushed off his hands, looked at the crates, then to us, then at the door.  

“Right,” He said with a thoughtful nod, striding promptly out of the barn.  Varric and Cassandra exchanged glances, but I took no extra time and followed him up the winding gravel path leading up to his house, with Solas close behind.  The horsemaster held open the door and waited for us, I accepted his gesture with a polite nod, and waited for the others. When everyone had come inside, Dennett began busying himself in the small kitchen, grabbing a towel to wipe his brow while pouring himself, what looked to be, a glass of whiskey from a large ceramic jug.  I was surprised to see him holding an actual scotch glass, as that seemed to be a very expensive commodity.  As he approached us with his full glass in hand, taking a small sip and closing his eyes for a moment, letting out a small, relieved sigh.  I reached my hand towards his glass, looking at him expectantly.  He raised an eyebrow, but obliged, slowly moving it in my direction.  I let my fingers barely graze the glass, feeling the familiar hum of magic in my fingers, and watched as ice spread around the cup in the blink of an eye.  I froze his glass not as a courtesy, but as a message: though we didn’t look like much, we were powerful.  I was powerful- and I made it clear that we would make either a formidable foe, or a formidable ally.  Master Dennett flinched, fortunately taking his glass with him in his lurch of surprise.  Everyone around him also seemed quite alarmed except Solas, who merely blinked, his brows raised in interest.  

There was a beat of silence.  Then, Master Dennett laughed.  

“Maker!” he boomed, holding up his glass to the sun’s rays that shone brightly through the modest kitchen window.  He held it close to his face as he inspected it, one eye shut and the other squinting, marveling at the delicate crystal patterns that webbed over his glass.  He took another drink, and let out a heavier sigh than his last, a small smile present at the very edges of his lips, and folded his arms. He seemed to have approved of my little trick.   

“So, this is the famous ‘Inquisition’, eh?  And here I thought you were all-talk,” he laughed gravelly, his stance relaxing as he leaned back on his heels.  

“Here and ready to put an end to this disaster,” I replied with a rueful smile. 

“Heard you’re trying to restore order.  It’s high time someone did,” he said with a small smirk..  “Never thought it’d be a Halla-rider from the wildlands though,” he added.  

I smiled politely and swallowed my distaste, knowing from his body language he meant no harm. I made no move to correct him, and instead, went along with his beliefs. My eyes narrowed slightly in amusement from his purposeful omittance of social graces. 

“Indeed, neither did I.  Unfortunately I never got to ride very much, I'm afraid,” I replied.

It technically wasn’t untrue. 

Master Dennett shook his head. 

“Damn majestic beasts.  I’d give my right arm to ride one,” he sighed wistfully.  

“They are,” I agreed in earnest, both of us thinking about them together in silence. I looked up at him again.  

“Can you help us?”  I asked.  I saw him hesitate.  

“I can help.  I want to help.  But not at the moment,” he replied, taking another sip of his drink.  “Can’t send the finest horses in Ferelden down the road now. The bandits around here would be on them like flies on shit,” he gruffed.  

“We have been working on eliminating the bandits from around the Crossroads, perhaps, if we could clear a path, you could send them through,” Cassandra offered.  

Dennett nodded, stepping closer.  

“Tell you what,” he said, looking down briefly in thought, “I want what is best for Thedas, but I also want what’s best for Redcliffe.  If I send horses your way, I need to make sure this place is safe.  You’ll have some work to do before we can talk.”  

I nodded.  This was more than reasonable, and he was offering more than I expected.  

“Agreed.  We would be happy to help, just let us know what you need, and we will see it done,” I said, looking into his eyes.  He held out his hand, and I grasped his firmly as he shook it.

“Then you’ve got a deal, Inquisition,” he said with an approving smile.  

***

It took us a solid week just to set up security, take out the threat of bandits and wolves, as well as start to fix the general chaos the war and Breach had caused the horsemaster’s lands.  Dennett was very grateful for our help, and sent what he could of his finest toward Haven.  Cassandra had sent word to Leliana of our success, and had a squad of soldiers come and collect the horses, and escort and protect new pledged members of the Inquisition on the journey up the mountain. We decided to make one last, wide arc to re-enforce our stabilization efforts for the Crossroads and Dennett’s farm before returning to Haven.  Just beyond Dwarfsons Pass, lie several groups of apostate camps.  The air was full with the smell of magic, causing me to wrinkle my nose for most of the day.  When we had finished clearing the last cave full of hostile mages, all of us were exhausted. My body ached from the various burns and cuts, my brow sweaty from fighting in damp caves.  We were about to push forward in our surveying arc when I sensed something- a feeling of sadness, something pulling in the back of my mind like a lead weight.  The sound of gravel crunching underfoot echoed into the caverns as I turned and saw something odd; a blue glowing light between a narrow passage of rocks.  

“You know, I love clearing out creepy caves filled with crazy mages as much as the next guy, but can’t we just take some time to rest… somewhere else?” I heard Varric asked tiredly from behind me.  

I didn’t reply.  Instead, I wedged my thin form between the rocks and into a smaller cave, following the ominous glow.  

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric muttered as he shuffled in behind me, his voice muffled against the wet stone as I could hear his struggle to slide through, “good thing I’m a dwarf.”  

I slowly approached the source, its haze which filled most of the cavern, and I froze once I realized what I was seeing.  

A phylactery.  It was unbroken, surrounded by fade magic and seeming to pulse faintly as if in slumber.  

I drew back slightly as if it had bit me, my stomach twisting.  They had phylacteries here, too?  What was it doing here?  Whose was it?  They were obviously alive, I could sense that much. But why- who- would leave such a valuable thing unguarded?  I tried to piece everything together, but none of it made any sense.  Clearly, there was information I was missing.  

“A phylactery,” Cassandra breathed, wrenching me out of my thoughts.  

So, she knew what it was.  I turned my head to look at her, and watched as she neared the small glass vial with wary eyes.  

“Yeah, but what’s it doing here?” Varric asked.  

Cassandra blinked in confusion. 
“I… am not sure.  With the war… who knows what events could have caused this to be placed here,” she replied.  

I reached out, and gently gathered it in my hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of grief and emptiness wash over me.  Why?  I wondered.  

“We should hold onto this.  We do not know if this was stolen or transported here for a purpose,” Cassandra suggested, still eyeing the phylactery.  

I nodded, but my heart raced in my throat, questions swirling in my mind as I tried to push them away by swallowing them down. 

Solas moved silently to my side, his eyes studying the vial in my hands. 

“Things such as these are rarely left unattended.  Perhaps one of the refugees will recognize its aura,” he suggested, looking up at me.  His brows knitted together, as if he could notice or sense my unease.

I blinked a few times to clear away the troubled look off of my face, but it did nothing  stop the panic from rising within. I had no idea they had phylacteries in Ferelden.  They didn’t look exactly the same, sure, but… maybe it would give me clues.  Clues for breaking phylacteries like mine.  I looked back at Solas and nodded in quiet agreement, keeping my expression cool, while more thoughts and questions and theories lingered about in my mind.  I could sense his hesitation in his glance before he stepped away, leaving me to take in the peaceful yet eerie silence of the small cavern before turning back.  We went further east to make sure there were no more threats of apostate mage camps, but instead ended up encountering several fade rifts likely caused by the magical disturbances nearby.  The rifts were fairly large and host to a nasty group of creatures, mostly fear and despair demons, and the occasional wraith or two- as to be expected due to recent events.  After closing the fourth rift, all of us were in dire need of rest.  Cassandra and Varric were arguing about whether or not to cross through Witchwood, or go back the longer route from which we had come.  I pressed on ahead, tuning out their chatter as I ran my thumb absentmindedly over the phylactery that I had never put away, turning over endless questions again in my mind.  I felt Solas’ presence before he spoke.  

“The residual magic here has further torn the veil,” he began, turning his head slightly towards Varric and Cassandra, “and apparently has frayed a few nerves,” he finished, a spark of interest present in his eyes.  I breathed a small snort of amusement harshly through my nose.  

“That’s putting it delicately,” I replied incredulously, looking between the pair, then back to Solas.  

The corner of his lip pulled up at my response, but after a brief pause, he grew serious.  

“It would be in our best interest if we made camp soon, as we have ventured out too far to feasibly return to Master Dennett’s lands before nightfall.  It would be a danger to be caught unawares,” he remarked, his voice low and his eyes narrowing as they scanned the now golden horizon.  

“Agreed,” I replied, nodding my head once slowly in thought.  “Although, I would like to make it up this pass, the elevation on the other side will give us an advantage,” I explained, pointing past the steep ridge.  Solas looked at the pass, his head turning to follow my finger.  

“A wise decision,” he concurred softly.  We were silent for a while, then he glanced at what I was holding.  

“It does have a foreboding aura,” he murmured pensively, the twilight illuminating his sharp angular features with warm-colored hues.  I stared at the phylactery, which I could tell was carefully designed; a thin glass vial no bigger than my index and middle finger, with liquid crimson showing between two slits on the side, and gold plating running up the middle in a thin line, with ornately carved designs leading seamlessly up to the top.  Solas took in a breath, then gave me an unexpected advantage.  

“I suspect you have never seen one before?” He half-asked, half-stated, his icy blue eyes flicking up to mine. 

Hope flared in my chest.  Maybe he could give me answers.  

‘ Carefully, now ,’ I told myself. 

“What do you know about them?” I asked, my curiosity peeking out from behind my neutral tone. Solas pursed his lips in thought, his eyes drifting back to the sun that was sinking rapidly below the mountains, casting harsh shadows on his face and below his chin.  

“I know that these vials are filled with the blood of mages, taken away and stored out of reach,” he said slowly, his features stony as he adjusted his satchel as we began climbing up a steeper section of the rocky hill.  “They are typically guarded by Templars.  Sometimes they are used to track apostates, or be used as a more… oppressive tool of benefit to whoever handles them.”  

I swallowed thickly- I was well aware of that fact.  But I pressed on.  

“Out of reach?” I asked.  “Why?”

“In case they become possessed, turn into abominations, or are deemed ‘dangerous’ by the Chantry,” Solas muttered.  His voice was quiet, but there was an obvious note of disapproval in his voice.  

I frowned.  All of this politics business was foreign to me, and it made me even more curious.  I tilted my head to look over at Solas, my fingers curling more tightly around my pack.  

Solas must have read my expression.  

“Mages in Circles are not viewed as some are in clans, or any other part of Thedas, for that matter. They are feared, misguided, and in turn, have little knowledge of the fade.” 

“Which… leaves them open to possession,” I continued on his train of thought.  

Solas nodded.  

“Correct.”  

I realized that there might be no other time better than this minute to ask what I wanted to ask.  

“What if… a mage got a hold of their phylactery?” To try and break the Chantry’s hold?”  I prodded, my heart in my throat and a tight, eager feeling in my chest.  

Solas frowned, clearly not expecting the question.  

“That is…” 

I quickly held up a hand before he could finish.  

“Hold,” I barked, even causing Varric and Cassandra to stop their incessant bickering.  

“What is it?” Varric asked in a hushed voice, his leather coat creaking slightly as he turned toward me.  

“Shh,” I scrunched up my nose in frustration, then turned to Solas.  “Do you-” 

“-yes,” he whispered, shifting his stance slightly, as if testing the air. I sensed something echo through the fade, an ominous and foreboding feeling. 

It felt like someone was pushing, knocking.  

The scent of sulfur wafted into my nose, and then, I could feel it: lightning racing through my veins, hot like fire, like fear . 

“What the-” Varric started.

 I broke into a sprint before anyone could move and tackled Varric, wrapping my arms around him and tumbling down the rocky slope we were climbing.  The air resounded with a loud bang - a huge fade rift exploded into the air where Varric was standing just a moment ago.  

“Everyone ready!” Cassandra yelled, immediately drawing her sword.  

A large and twisted fear demon emerged from the rift, along with several other wraiths, and something else, something that made the air cold. I whipped around as I felt a presence at my back, and dodged an attack from a despair demon just in time for its ice to hit fear squarely in the chest instead. It screeched, its massive spider-like arms writhing in alarm. Varric quickly shot several bolts at despair, while Cassandra began lunging at fear. I shot my hand up, aiming it at the rift and feeling that familiar tug across my mark slowly pull the rift shut. All of us wanted this done quickly. Cassandra made short work of fear, swinging her blade around and dismembering its head, which fell on the grass with a wet thunk before dissolving back into the fade. Varric pinned down despair with several bolts, allowing Solas to use fire magic against it, while Cassandra rounded again, plunging her sword squarely through despair’s chest. It shrieked once, twice, then it was gone. When it finally disintegrated, I felt the rift start to collapse, sending small shocks through my arm down to the tips of my fingers.  The air seemed to shift when the rift officially sealed with a loud clap, green mist still lingering in the air.  No one moved from where they stood, we all stayed in our spots, trying to catch our breath.  Cassandra’s shoulders were hunched, her long blade still in her hands but the edge resting on the ground.  Solas leaned on his staff, breathing heavily through his nose, beads of sweat freely falling down the sides of his clean-shaven head.  He looked at me with an expression I knew too well- eyes full of questions but holding back, not uttering a single one.  Varric stared at the rock a few feet away from where I had pushed him.  

“Thanks for saving my ass,” he huffed a disbelieving laugh.  

My eyes found a place to settle for a brief mental respite, nodding in reply as I felt my sweaty skin being kissed by the biting breeze.  

“Anytime,” I breathed, pausing.  When I spoke again, I straightened, and it took all of my willpower to pull myself back up to stand.  

“I suggest we make camp just over this pass.”

Varric snorted, and I could swear I heard the sound of a sigh of relief from Cassandra.  

“Finally, a sensible idea,” he grumbled. He slowly and deliberately walked past the Seeker, shooting her a look so dry, it could spit sand.  Cassandra scowled. 

When we had finished setting up camp, it was nightfall.   The moon was bright tonight, illuminating the branches overhead with a soft milky white glow. The fire crackled, keeping out the bite of the cold that now began to settle over the Hinterlands. Cassandra sharped her blade near her tent, her brows furrowed in concentration, while Varric scribbled notes into his journal. Solas slowly walked around the perimeter, finishing the wards I had set up, muttering incantations softly.  I had decided to read a book I had brought with me from Haven I found about herbs- something “healer”  Adan was not very keen on.  Varric suddenly stopped and lowered his book, his eyes narrowing as he inspected me in the dim light. 

“So, do Dalish know anything about the fade?” He asked me. 

I quickly looked up, slightly disarmed by his spontaneous question. I paused, gathering my thoughts.

“It depends,” I said, shuffling my feet closer to the fire from where I sat, setting my own reading aside. 

“I mean, you did sense a rift before it exploded into reality. Literally,” he said with a chuckle. 

“So, you’re wondering if we interact with the Fade more?” I clarified. 

Varric thought for a moment, crossing his leg, the tails of his long crimson leathers shuffling softly. 

“I guess you could say that,” he agreed with a small charming smile. Solas paused in his work, his back facing us as he looked up at the sky.  

I chose my next words carefully. 

“I can only tell you what I know from what I have seen, but yes. Many revere it. But even mages did not go farther than talking to a few spirits or so,” I explained, trying to recall what I could from clan Lavellan. 

“Spirits?” Cassandra gasped. She looked side to side and whispered her next words, as if talking too loudly would wake the dead. “Are they not afraid of being possessed?” She asked, leaning in closer with her elbow propped up on her knee. 

A small smile of amusement made its way onto my face at her reaction, despite my best efforts to keep a neutral expression.

“No, they always made sure they went in groups, brought talismans or etched runes. They have rules too,” I replied, my bright green eyes meeting her glowing brown ones. 

She seemed somewhat satisfied with my response, but mostly intrigued as she sat back, ruminating on what we had discussed. 

Varric shook his head. 

“Well. I’m glad you're on our side, and can do what you do with your ‘Fade-sense’,” he said with a grin. 

I bowed my head in silent thanks, rising to my feet. I was not interested in answering any more questions when I could not recall most of what I had seen anymore- and besides- I didn’t want to think about it now. 

“Excuse me,” I murmured politely, walking into the forest to find some peace. 

I had no idea how long I had been walking, but I made sure to stay within a safe distance from camp.  I didn’t want to be caught off-guard by another spontaneous forming rift.  Just beyond the camp lie a small thicket.  The air was crisp here, and I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the dirt and wet moss.  The Fade hummed loudly here, and I could still feel a great deal of energy from the magic that lingered.  Most would find it unsettling, but I found that it gave me a strange sense of peace and quiet comfort, that there was great power in the unseen- just beyond the tangible. I turned over the events of the last two weeks.  The rifts, the fighting, the people, Master Dennett, that phylactery, and… Solas.  By the few conversations we had, he seemed to know a moderate amount of Ferelden politics, magic and the Fade, at the very least.  I was sure that if I played my cards right and traded a little information during conversation, I could learn a whole lot more about what was really going on before the Conclave, maybe even learn about- 

I stopped dead in my tracks.  A twig snapped behind me and I whipped around, my red hair flying and my hands raised as I summoned magic, ready to strike.  

“Apologies.  I did not mean to startle you,” Solas said, his hand raised slightly to show he meant no harm.  He stepped forward, leaves and branches crunching under his boots.  “It seems we both wanted a bit more quiet,” he noted, his icy blue eyes flicking up to mine, regarding me carefully.  

I slowly dropped my arms, my posture relaxing.  

“It is alright.  And yes.  Varric is lovely, but after today, I wasn’t in the mood for conversation,” I said softly, wrinkling my nose a little.  

The edge of Solas’ lips quirked up.  

“I would say we are aligned on that sentiment.”  

I laughed shortly in agreement, shifting my weight onto my other leg.  Neither of us spoke for a beat, listening to the owls in the distance.  

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”  I asked with a sigh. Solas raised his head and looked over at me.   “Not just the Conclave.  Or the fighting,” I continued,  “but… the Breach, the Fade, it- it’s here ,” I emphasized, trying to contain my sense of intrigue.

“Most people would find that more frightening.  And you do not?”  He asked with a raised brow, something akin to amusement glowing in his eyes.  

I shook my head slowly with a small smile, tinged with sadness.  

“There is not a lot that frightens me,” I replied.  

“That may be a good thing.  There must be many things that you have witnessed that you may not be accustomed to,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.  

“You mean, mages and Templars?” I asked.  “It has been… a lot.  I had never-”  I almost said 'never felt a templar's magic before', but stopped myself. I didn’t want to reveal how clueless I was to him.  Solas looked curious, as I had stopped mid-sentence. "I… had never seen such chaos as this before," I finished, correcting myself.  

“I can imagine so,” he nodded, looking down at his boots as he spoke. “Desperation, anger, sadness. They all affect the Fade, which, given your… unique sensitivity, can make things a bit more challenging.  Can you still feel it here?” He asked.  I knew that he was being polite, but for some reason, it irritated me that he assumed I was Dalish.  Maybe because his origins were unknown to me, perhaps?  But in order to get any information from him, I knew I would have to provide some truths in return, but to me, the cost was worth it. Perhaps I could see if what he said he knew was valuable.  

“Yes.  Can you?” 

“Yes.”  His answer was simple.  

How much did he know about what I could do, my abilities? Could he sense them? I wondered. 

"I imagine that the fear here is what brings such nasty demons through the rifts we have seen nearby," I murmured. Soft rays of moonlight cast shadows on the side of his face, his blue eyes almost glowing in the night light. I was still curious about where he was from, and decided to test my luck.  "Tell me," I began, "you say you are not a circle mage, how do you know so much about the mage- Templar conflict?" I asked. 

Solas hesitated for a fraction of a second, opening his mouth to draw a quick breath. 
“Observation, for the most part.  I have traveled far and studied much. The Circle and its failings are not hard to pinpoint, especially when one is able to watch from the outside.”

Before he could say another word, my curiosity had gotten the best of me. 
“And, where exactly, have you watched from?”  I asked. “You are not Dalish.”

“I am not.” 

“And you are far too well-read to have lived in an alienge or bound to slavery,” I went on, looking at him expectantly.  

“You are remarkably observant,” he quipped dryly, his voice deep and slightly teasing.  He knew I was trying to coax him into giving answers.

“Very,” I agreed,matter-of-factly.  If he wasn’t giving any answers, neither would I. 

“Is that so?”  He asked, turning more of his body to face mine. 

“I know that every day Cassandra wakes up, she braids her hair, washes her face, sharpens her sword, and reads a book she tries to tuck away.  Romance, I suspect.  And Varric, polishes Bianca, drinks whatever he puts in his flask, eats, makes hunting traps, then writes in his journal.  And you,” I paused, pointing at him, “study your maps, leave into the forest or some quiet place away to do spellwork, meditate when others believe they are talking to you, and read my books when I think you are not looking. Out of boredom or the mischievous urge, I cannot tell,” I finished, my chin raised defiantly. 

Solas’ eyes grew slightly wide.  Then, he chuckled. 
“Then I must do better to sneak away with your book.  I apologize for giving myself away so quickly,” he replied.  His expression was neutral, but the tone of his voice was warm.  “Have you always been this free to observe and learn, or is that a recent development since the Conclave?”  He asked.  

"In some ways... yes, and in others, no," I replied slowly, making my voice sound heavily-laden in thought. It was a half-truth. I was able to observe life as an outsider. Being a slave, no one paid attention to you, and I was able to learn a lot that way.  And in my clan... wasn't really any different before I was sent away. 

"But observing is good. It helps you gain the upper hand, learn things, see what others don't, naturally," I added, trying to lighten the mood in hopes his questions would not grow more serious.  

But the intrigue in his eyes only sharpened. 
“I, too, have noticed a few things about you since the start of the Inquisition,” he remarked, his gaze almost penetrating and a smirk on his lips.  

“Oh?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as possible, though I felt my insides twist nervously.  

“You bear the markings of Mythal, clans such as those value tradition, yet you are of age and bear no completed Vallaslin.  I thought it was surprising that your clan was even interested in the Conclave, given Mythal-worshippers are normally superstitious, and despise the interaction with Shemlen,” he said, motioning to my Vallaslin.  I put my fingers up to the tattoo, and frowned.  “It is perplexing,” he went on, “given your Vallaslin is not completed, and that they had sent you, when they could have sent an elder in your stead.  And it is even more so that you used the past tense to talk about your clan when Varric asked you about the Fade earlier tonight.”

My heart dropped to my stomach.  I hadn’t even realized I made the slip.  

Ah, there it was. The questions.  Other than being nervous, I was impressed.  I wondered why he was more inquisitive than the rest. He sought me out when the others let me be. Why? I kept having to find creative answers to give him just enough while at the same time, giving him next to nothing. My impassiveness from my training was slowly wearing thin, and my more nervous nature began to emerge. Even though it wasn't evident, I could feel myself becoming more on edge, as I now knew I would have to try and evade not only House Radonis, but the prying eyes of the Inquisition. It put them at risk to know me, and it would put them in further danger socially if word were to get out about where I hailed. No one would give the organization a second thought if an elven slave was named the Herald of Andraste. And then my ticket to safety would be gone. It was only a matter of time. I clasped my clammy hands behind my back, stepping to the side and towards him another pace. What could I say, other than the truth?  I stared at him in stunned silence.  

“I… no.  You are right,” I said quietly, the silence that surrounded us suddenly feeling loud.  “I left, long ago,” I said, turning around to face the moon.  I could barely stop the look of distaste from crossing my face whenever anyone assumed my origins.  Clan Lavellan was just another place I did not want to return to, for a multitude of reasons. My nose wrinkled slightly as I cleared my throat, pushing back ugly memories. When I turned around, I frowned again, my cool fingers returning to touch my forehead where I knew my clan’s mark was. "I do not consider myself Dalish.  And no, this was not a choice I had made for myself,” I murmured, referring to my Vallaslin.  Heat stirred in my cheeks- I felt embarrassed- not because of my past, but because he was able to deduce everything so quickly, and when it came to him, I was grasping at straws.  

“I see,” Solas noted softly, walking three steps forward, now within arm’s reach.  “I did not mean to pry so deeply,” he looked me up and down, then met my gaze, though it was just as razor sharp as before.  “Forgive my curiosity. It seems I have had to apologize twice for intruding this evening.”  

My eyes narrowed in slight amusement at his remark.

“It is something we both have in common,” I offered.  Solas raised a brow.  “Curiosity,” I explained.  I at least was thankful I learned something about him amidst my blunder: this man was smart, and anyone else who didn't see it was a fool. Although from my observation, I doubted anyone would be permitted to see past his cool exterior. Interesting. But there was another side to him, I continued to ponder. There is a respect I had seen when he referenced spirits or people. Although he made his dislikes very clear only when he wanted, he also was not unkind when he did so. I took solace in that. My fingers fell slowly away and I nodded gently. 

“And, all is forgiven,” I said quietly with a shy smile, waiting as curious as a cat for his next move. "I... sometimes forget… that it is there. Sometimes," I added awkwardly. 

‘ I should have just not said anything ,’ I thought bitterly to myself, the quiet heat of embarrassment burning in my ears.  

Solas’s eyes flashed with amusement, acknowledging our common trait.  

“Though I imagine it is not as hard to forget when everyone has reminded you so often.”  He extended his arm forward, a silent question of if I would like to keep walking, which I did.  I nodded, and began walking into the thicker part of the forest.  I took a deep breath, and upon exhaling, felt as if something were lifted off my chest.  Perhaps knowing one person knew the truth- or at least, a tiny part of it- is something that could help me later.  In our silence, I regarded him curiously.  He must have sought solitude for at least one of the reasons I did.  And He did not seem to like exchanging banter, in fact, he usually moved away from Varric and Cassandra when they began to bicker.  So why was it that he wanted to engage in conversation with me?  And in the quiet comfort of the evening, I foolishly opened my mouth.  

“You don’t much like people, do you?” I asked, then I clamped my mouth shut, biting my cheek.  It wasn't judgmental, merely an observation. But now that the words left my lips, it probably sounded incredibly insensitive. The tips of my ears burned slightly in embarrassment once again. I was about to apologize, probably awkwardly, but Solas beat me to it.

Solas blinked in surprise, and then huffed a quiet laugh through a sharp exhale of breath.  

“It would be better to say I find them… trying.  But no, not really,” he said with an amused smirk.  “If one has the courage to ask so plainly, I would assume you do not either.”  

I shook my head, and his lip twitched, his smirk widening just a fraction.  

“I thought not. Most people simply live their lives without wanting to live outside their own boundaries, becoming stuck in tedious chores and preoccupied by the thoughts of others.  It is exhausting, and I find much more satisfaction from learning or dreaming,” he added, gracefully dodging a low-hanging branch.  “Of course, there are exceptions.”  

I was thankful that the night and my hair which I wore down covered the stubborn heat that continued to burn in my ears.  "Ah, yes. Sorry. I realize that came off as a bit.. insensitive," I said, crinkling my nose apologetically. "If it helps, I am the same way, most of the time," I said, carefully stepping over a large entanglement of roots in our path. I saw a streak of light out of the corner of my eye streaking behind a tree ahead. I held up my hand immediately as I whipped my head around. Without looking back, I slowly moved forward and reached out my senses. I could feel the hum of energy in the air from our conversation, both of our magical energies, the fade, and something else. Something gentle, soft.... curious. I let out a disbelieving huff. My body relaxed and excitement flared in my chest as I realized what it was. I extended out my hand in front of the tree I saw the light streak behind. 

 "Truly?" I asked aloud into the open air. "Come now, I know you're there, and I want to meet you too," I encouraged softly. A small blue ball of light that seemed to burn with no source slowly peeked out from behind the tree. It was what I had hoped- it was a wisp. A smile bloomed across my face.   

"There you are. We're not so scary now, are we?" I asked it.  The light slowly approached me, resting just above my outstretched index finger.  It paused, and I felt myself hold my breath, until it bobbed happily in front of me.  

Solas let out a quiet sigh.  

“It is drawn to you,” he remarked softly in honest surprise.  

The wisp danced seemingly cheerfully between my fingers, its energy tickling like a feather. 

"Not drawn to me, but perhaps, drawn to us both. It is a curious spirit. And I suspect, it was very  curious about us," I breathed, my lips slightly parted, watching the curious wisp with equal amounts of delight and wonder. I sighed. "But, yes, they have always been... drawn to me, in one way or another," I smiled fondly at the spirit, marveling over the fact that it was in the tangible world..   “I have never seen one outside of the Fade before.  It is amazing.”

Solas looked at me with a perplexed expression, his brows raised, then back to the wisp.  

“I have, but it has been quite some time.  It must be caused by the weakness of the Veil in the area,” he replied.  I looked at him from the side, watching him watch me while the wisp playfully weaved around my wrist.  

“Go on, say hello,” I urged, nudging him with my free elbow.  I wanted to know how comfortable he really was with spirits- was he being truthful? 

Solas’ lips twitched, regarding me, then his features softened as he focused his gaze on the wisp.  He bowed his head slowly, reaching his fingers out a safe distance.  

“Hello, little one,” he greeted quietly.  The wisp seemed pleased with his response, as it slowly traveled up my arm and right above Solas’ palm.  “It was curious about us both,” he agreed, his eyes locking with mine, a sharp expression within them I couldn’t quite place.  I looked at him, then up at the moon.  It was getting late.  I knew the wisp was curious, and I was glad to have its company. The Fade was more of my home than anything, unlike most people in the waking world, who thought it only a place of nightmares or the unknown. I nodded to the wisp, and then to Solas. 

"Come," I said, motioning back to the camp. The wisp stayed near my shoulder, bobbing up and down happily. When we reached the outskirts, I looked up at it. "You may stay as long as you like, but be careful. Varric and Cassandra aren't as friendly as Solas and I. You mustn't be frightened of them. They don't understand you like me and Solas can." The spirit moved slowly as if taking in my words. Luckily, Cassandra and Varric were in their tents- it was just us when we returned, and I sighed in partial relief. I was not particularly excited about the possible prospect of explaining a non-threatening spirit lingering around camp.  Both of us exchanged glances and nods of good night before returning to our respective tents.  As I lay down, my mind was so busy with questions and memories that I found it hard to sleep, though fatigue pulled at my muscles and settled in my bones.  The wisp seemed to sense my discomfort, and hovered gently above my chest, a warmth spreading through me that pulled my eyes shut and my mind into rest.  

The next morning, I found the wisp had gone. We cleaned up quickly, and made it to the Crossroads by mid-day, checking in with Corporal Vale and reporting what we had found before heading back to Haven.  Most of the day had been quiet, as all of us were still exhausted, despite resting the night before.  We encountered more fighting but less rifts on the way back, and I heard Varric groan with relief when Haven’s gates came into view.  

“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra breathed.  

“Yeah.  For once, I agree with the Seeker,” Varric mumbled, dragging his body up the hill tiredly.  Solas, for the first time in the last day, spoke up.  

“We shall all get some much needed rest,” he said, nodding.  

“But not before debriefing,” Cassandra shook her head and moved her steely gaze to me.  “Leliana is expecting a debrief when we return.”  Although she never said it, I could tell that she didn’t want to debrief either. 

“Do we have to?” Varric whined, now his whole body slumping exaggeratedly.  Cassandra glared at him, causing him to raise his hands up in surrender, but not without rolling his eyes.  

We reached the gates, which were opened for us when the guards spotted our arrival.  There was a soldier standing at the gates, a young man who looked as if he were so nervous, he could be quite literally shaking in his boots.  He gave Cassandra a hasty salute, then bowed quickly to me, causing me to bite my cheek.  I could barely see the corner of Solas’ lips tug upwards out of the corner of my eye- he knew I despised that.  

“Lady Seeker, Herald,” The scout greeted nervously, licking his chapped lips.  “There is a commotion at the Chantry, and your presence is requested at once,” he said, saluting and bowing again then making a hasty retreat towards the Chantry.  All of us looked at each other with the same exasperated expression. 

Chapter Text

The Riot

We ran up the winding path to find a throng of mages, Templars, and townspeople gathered around the Chantry.  They seemed to be separated by group, one side clad in robes, and the other in armor, while the stragglers clustered around the sides. 

“Ah, shit,” Varric grumbled, when he started putting the pieces together.  

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!” One Templar spat, his face drawn into a scowl as he glared at what looked like a senior mage by her red and gold robes. Three other Templars drew close as a shadow to the one yelling at the mage, sneering at her supporting group clustered on the other side.  

“Lies! Your kind let her die ,” she returned, with just as much venom in her voice, throwing a finger in his direction and causing her small body to sway. The mages behind her tensed, and I could feel the air crackling with magic, and my own bristling under my skin.  The soldier who greeted us at the gate had a right to be nervous.  The air was tense, and if someone didn’t step in, it was about to turn into an all-out fight.  Solas’ jaw tensed, clearly sensing the same thing I did, shooting me a sideways glance.  Cassandra was fixated on the altercating pair, her brows drawn, and her hand hovering cautiously above her sword.  I quickly sorted through ideas in my mind of what I could do without causing a scandal as the fabled ‘Herald of Andraste’.  Anything I did would be heavily scrutinized, and I would have to be careful about how I did it.  I barely had time to think about how to dissolve the situation, as the rest of the instance happened in a flash.  

The Templar gritted his teeth, stepping forward quickly.  “Shut your mouth, mage !” He growled, thrusting his hand towards the pommel of his sword and abruptly drawing it upwards.  I had to do something, now was the time to intervene- there was no other option- and no time to think or argue with myself on the best course of action.  I raised my hand to cast a despelling blast between them in order to protect the Mage woman.  Energy throbbed at my fingertips, racing down my arm from the enormous well of power within me, and I could feel my energy pressing into the veil.  The familiar feeling just before magic could seep into the air around us tingled in my hand, and then- 

Commander Cullen emerged from the mass of onlookers, stepping between them, right where I was about to cast.  

It took all of my willpower to stop my magic from flowing, and I let out a strangled breath as I tried to choke the spell.  My magic rippled the air slightly in front of me, but I quickly flung them to my sides.  I grimaced- I had never attempted to stop a spell before, and it felt like I tried to stop a sneeze halfway out of my nose.  Everyone in our group seemed to let out a breath of relief, Cassandra slumping and Varric sighing, while Solas still had his eyes trained on me from the side, as though trying to be inconspicuous about it.  The Templars nearby immediately straightened into attention and a salute when the Commander came into view.  

“Night-Commander!”

“Night-Captain!”  They barked almost in unison.   

Cullen flinched, his features contorting into disgust for a fraction of a second, before letting his outstretched hands fall to his sides, furrowing his brows to mask the emotions that skittered unwillingly across his face.  

“That is not my title,” he snarled, looking between them.  “And we are not Templars any longer.  We are all part of the Inquisition!”  

The Templars stiffened further, freezing in place as if listening to a mother’s scolding.  

“And what does that mean, exactly?” 

I turned my eyes to the right towards an indignant-sounding voice, and fought the urge to roll my eyes once I saw who it was.  Chancellor Roderick sauntered out of the crowd of onlookers, pointing between us, the mages and Templars.  Cullen’s jaw clenched as he slowly turned around, making eye contact with us for a second before stopping in the Chancellor’s direction.  I could tell by the fire that burned fiercely in his amber eyes that his patience was already worn thin.  

“Back already, Chancellor?  Haven’t you already done enough?” He asked, trying not to spit his words as he tilted his head to the side in the form of a silent challenge.  

The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to slowly step forward, his beady eyes falling on the altercating groups, then back to Cullen.  

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its… ‘ Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised,” he sneered. 

Cullen’s resolve hardened, and at that moment I knew that he and I knew why he was really there.  The Chancellor wanted to start a fight at just the right moment. I began to approach the pair in order to support the Commander and hopefully embarrass Roderick, as he had it coming.   Cullen’s eyes flicked towards us, then the groups that were arguing just a moment ago.  

“Back to your duties, all of you,” he barked, leaving no room in his tone for questions.  The crowd immediately jumped, dispersing quickly as villagers scurried to avoid the Commander’s harsh and penetrating gaze.  The mages and Templars that gathered around quickly departed, the sudden abundance of space leaving plenty of the cold air to blow through our cloaks.  Cassandra’s eyes were intently trained on Cullen, while Varric, Solas and I were too busy staring down the Chancellor, who was making it very difficult for us to find reasons to keep allowing him sanctuary at Haven.  

“Mages and Templars were already at war.  Now they’re blaming her for the Divine’s death,” Cullen growled, clearly annoyed that Roderick only saw the chance to pick apart the one force that was attempting to close the distance between the two warring factions.  

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” he insisted, stepping towards Cullen despite his very obvious body language not to do so.  

“Who, you?” Cullen bristled, and I could tell it was taking all of his strength not to break his sense of decorum.  “Random Clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?” 

Varric sucked in a breath through gritted teeth with a grimace, shooting me a quick look that said “we are in for it now”.  I briefly closed my eyes and bit my cheek, moving my glance quickly away from Varric and towards the two near the Chantry doors.  Roderick’s face turned ruddy, biting down on his lip to prevent himself from sputtering very un-holy words at the Commander.  

“The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste?’ I think not,” He snorted indignantly.  My cheeks heated at his mocking response.  I knew I wasn’t any ‘Herald’ by any stretch, but his arrogance and lack of respect reminded me of pompous Tevinter nobles.  I still remember them kicking me to the sides of the walkways as I polished the stones underneath their feet. Against my better judgement, anger forced my mouth open.  

“So far, you’re the only one who has insisted we can’t work together,”  I snapped through clenched teeth.  Roderick whipped his head my way, his hood nearly flying off and his eyes narrowing. 

“We might, if your ‘Inquisition’ would recognize the Chantry’s authority ,” he replied.  Cullen’s jaw ticked, the veins in his temples subtly popping whenever he began grinding his teeth.  

“There is no authority until another Divine is chosen,” he corrected sternly, glaring at the Chancellor, who ignored it completely.  

“In due time.  Andraste will be our guide.  Not some… dazed wanderer on a mountainside,” he finished, turning his nose up in the air.  Anger roiled in my stomach.  This glorified imbecile was not only ignorant to obvious facts and logic considering recent events, but solely concerned with believing and accepting what was ‘safe’ and ‘known’.  I turned to the Commander abruptly.  

“Cullen, remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?”  I asked, my voice barely qualifying as civil, earning a cheek-bitten smirk from Solas.  Cullen’s dark eyes flickered to mine, but before he could respond, Roderick cut in.  

“Clearly, your Templar knows where to draw the line.”  

I only glared at him in response, as anything that was about to come out of my mouth would have been foul.  This man had tried to thwart every one of our efforts at every turn, and still had the gall to stay and watch the aftermath.  Roderick smirked as though he had won, turning around and marching off to gods knows where.  

‘ Probably to gaze at himself in a mirror ,’ I remarked in my head.  Cullen shook his head, watching the Chancellor go until he was out of hailing distance before turning to me.  

“He’s toothless.  There’s no point in turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.  The Chancellor is a good indicator of what to expect in Val-Royeaux, however,” he told me with a ghost of a smile tugging at the very edge of his lips. I raised a brow, then took one last pitying look in the Chancellor’s direction.  

“Then let us hope we find a solution, and not a city full of Chancellors ,” I quipped, walking to the doors and harshly pushing them open, not looking back to see if the others had followed behind me.  

The office inside the Chantry hall was quiet.  Josephine, Cassandra, Varric, Leliana, Cullen, Solas, and I stood in various positions wearing a variety of expressions throughout the room during debriefing.  We had reported everything that we saw in the Hinterlands: the fighting, the townspeople, Mother Giselle, Master Dennett, even what had just happened with that poor excuse for a Cleric outside. There was a brief pause in the room when no one spoke, everyone was processing the information that had just been given.  The smoke from the candles curled around the room in lazy wisps, and it was the only thing that made it apparent that time had not frozen.  Josephine broke the spell by speaking first.  

“Leliana says that Chantry Clerics are meeting in Val Royeaux in eight days.  All jokes aside, having the Herald address them is not a bad idea,” she said, her index finger delicately poised on the side of her jaw as she thought. 

“You can’t be serious,” Cullen snorted with a raised brow, his incredulous eyes darting from Leliana, to Josephine, then myself.  But I knew she wasn’t joking. 

Leliana frowned, her expression marred with slight disapproval.  

“And we should ignore danger to the Herald?” She half-asked, half-stated, her expression pointed towards Josephine.  

Josephine sighed, blinking once as if she were clearing away an unwanted thought, and nodded politely in my direction.  

“Let us ask her.”  

Suddenly, all eyes were on me.  That hot, itchy feeling of being seen made my spine tingle, putting me ill-at-ease.  I swallowed and drew my feet slightly closer together, pushing the feeling down and ignoring it.  I took a fraction of a second to think about their proposal, even though I was almost sure of my decision. 
If we didn’t go, we would miss out on an opportunity to make an impression, to tell people who we were and what we were really doing, and prove through good works that the Chantry had lashed out at us only out of fear.  We may be able to at least get some of the Clerics to doubt, as Mother Giselle suggested at the Crossroads. 
If we did go, there would be several risks we would be taking- that I would be taking.  I  would run the risk of being seen by countless people I used to work for in Tevinter, by old acquaintances, and there was no telling what they would do with that information.  If anyone was still working for House Radonis, which I know there were… they may very well report it to the blood ravens I know they must have sent out by now.  Not only that, if the Chantry angers the people that will inevitably be gathered by their antics, if their words reach and convince the ears of the people we are trying to help… we would have no chance of making this work, and again, the Inquisition- my only safe harbor from Tevinter- would be gone.  I swallowed again, not wanting to think about any more outcomes.   

“Mother Giselle told me that we only need to get some of them to doubt ,” I said, siding with Josephine, who shot me a small, hopeful smile from across the table.  “Besides, if we do not make an impression now of our good intentions and our progress, the Chantry will only use the lack of evidence as fuel for their fire to discredit us.”  

“It just lends credence to the idea that we should care about what the Chantry says,” Cullen disagreed, the familiar line appearing between his brows as he frowned.  

“I agree with the Commander,” Leliana stated.  “They also have the ability to turn the people who we are helping against us, if they work hard enough with their deception.”  Her bright red hair peeked out of her hood as she swung her head in Josephine’s direction.  

Leliana highlighted one of the very reasons I thought it was risky to go, and it appeared that we were at an impasse, as two of us thought we should go, and two of us thought we should not.  

Cassandra stepped forward, who was standing in between me and Varric. 

“I will go with her.  Mother Giselle said she could provide us names?  Use them,” she declared simply, looking at me and Leliana.  The Spymaster looked gobsmacked, her lips formed a thin line, and her brows furrowed heavily.  

“But why?  This is nothing but a-” 

Cassandra flung her gloved hands out open palmed to either side of her. 
“What choice do we have, Leliana?” she beseeched, her brows raised.   “Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach.  Use what influence we have, and we will see this through.”  

Leliana opened her mouth once, then shut it.  She clearly did not like the options we had, but she wasn’t openly disagreeing now either.  Josephine shot me a knowing look, quickly turning around and scribbling something onto her board.  

“I will reach out to some nobles, call in a few favors.  Maker knows we will need the support when the time comes,” she sighed, still writing.  

I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding through my nose, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I thought.  Judging from how long it took me to get to the Conclave from Tevinter, and how far the Breach was from here… I did some quick mental distancing, then blinked once I realized how much time we had. Seven days.  Six and a half, if we were lucky.  

“We need to move now if we wish to make it in time.  I suggest we meet at the gates early tomorrow morning,” I said, as all heads swiveled in my direction for the second time.  I shuffled my toes in my boots as a nervous habit.  

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Varric snorted, shifting his weight a little as he glanced up at Cassandra and Solas, undoubtedly searching their faces for their opinions.  Solas’ face remained impassive, meeting Varric’s eyes for a moment, then briefly volleying over to Cassandra and I. 

“She is correct.  It would be wise to depart no sooner than first light,” he quietly agreed. 

Cassandra nodded, her gloves creaking slightly as I saw her fidgeting with her hands that rested at her sides.  

“Then let us waste no time.  I will have the soldiers prepare the horses,” she said, taking no extra time and dismissing herself from the room.  The rest of the group followed suit, but I decided to stay behind.  I was exhausted, but if I was going to face down what remained of the upper echelons of the Chantry, I would need to learn everything that could be remotely useful.  I studied every letter, down to simple requisition orders that were on the large oak table. I looked at every scrap of paper I could find, even though there wasn’t much to read of Lelianas- I would have expected nothing less. I peered through every book that had relevant titles to Orlais and Ferleden on the shelves.  Nothing of note was found in the books, but it helped me understand a bit more of the political inner-workings and Chantry beliefs.  After what seemed like an eternity and a headache later from staring at the pages in the dimming candlelight, I sighed.  Looking around the room once more, I came to the conclusion that there was no more to be found in this room. I gave the map on the large table one last rueful glance before stepping out of the office and into the Chantry hall, finding it to be… quiet.  Well, much quieter than normal.  No scouts or servants scurrying about, only a few Sisters were praying and milling about near the walls.  Then the question dawned on me: how long had I stayed in there?  I walked the considerable distance between the large office and the door to Haven, and pushed it open.  The air was far colder, biting at my nose as soon as I had opened it, the wind billowing my dark cloak and fiery red hair behind me, and the moon was high in the sky. 

‘ It must be past midnight ,’ I thought to myself in shock. I knew I had been in there a while, but I didn't know I was in there for that long.  I quickly returned to my quarters, packed my rucksack and changed, sliding into bed. I would need all the rest I could get, considering we haven't actually had a day to rest at all since the Conclave.

As soon as my head hit the softest pillow I had felt in weeks, my body fell into unconsciousness. 

When I awoke, I saw darkness. The air was wet, and warm, and I was in a small room that I recognized, a place that always made my stomach sing with fear. 

No. That couldn’t be possible, could it?

“Anora,” a man’s voice growled from the abyss, and  I stiffened. I recognized that voice. Cold terror struck into my bones, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. I stood there, hunched, frozen- hoping he wouldn't see me- hoping he would do less of what I knew he was about to do. 

“Listen to me when I am talking to you, girl!” He snarled, gripping my arm severely and wrenching me around to face him, forcing my eyes to lock with his.  He was tall, slim for most wealthy human men I had seen in their early forties. He was donned in a white hooded robe with a crimson silk scarf tucked underneath, wore a sparse but a neatly sculpted beard, and had dark brown eyes that glinted menacingly into my green ones- Jacovis Radonis. 

“You thought we wouldn't find you? After your little trick at the Conclave, hmm? He hissed through his teeth, pulling my arm further behind my back, stretching the limits of my tendons holding it in its socket. I bit my cheek to keep myself from crying out, and tasted blood.  

‘ Don’t give him any satisfaction ,’ I chanted in my head over and over.   

“Got us thinking you were dead so we wouldn’t look for you?” He grabbed me by the crown of my head with his other hand, and dragged me in front of a narrow mirror that was installed on the stone wall, and with a small wooden stool in front of it, pushing me down to sit.  He yanked down the collar of my field clothes, revealing my blood mark; a diagonal mage's staff with a crescent moon speared at the bottom, with a smaller moon at the very top facing the same direction as the first- the symbol of House Radonis. Jacovis’ eyes flicked to the mirror, and I stayed as still as possible, holding my breath, as his delighted gaze bore into me.  

“My sweet girl, we will always have you. You are ours - and don't forget,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my ear, “we still have your blood,” his lips curled into a smile, and I swallowed the rising bile in my throat while I watched my reflection blanch at the realization. He was right, they could do anything to me. Anything. And there would be nothing I could do to stop it. I sat there and watched him gaze at our reflection together, hearing water drip somewhere from within the room. 

“You have been quite naughty, Anora,” he said softly, the damp corners of the chamber seemed to kiss his words back to me.  He pulled out a small, slim crimson blade from his robe pocket, and I stiffened, it was his favorite.  The blade was infused with blood magic, to make pain burn with the feeling of fire, and its charms also made his marks far less visible to the naked eye. I tried to school my emotions, but my body started to shake, unable to stop conditioned fear from running rampant in my system. Jacovis noticed, his smile crawling wider as he glanced back at our reflection. 

“Shhhh, my dear,” he said as he traced the knife up my arm, the tip subtly catching on my skin. “If you don't hide, it will be much less painful for you.  I won't have to use this anymore on you if you come back,” his tone teased at being genuine, like smoke, curling around my senses. A small flower of hope blossomed in my chest- I wanted to believe him so badly. 

“But as of now, you have been so… naughty,” he growled, and suddenly cut into the skin of my forearm. The blood magic sent searing pain into my veins, the mark on my neck burning along with it as a pained groan slipped past my lips through gritted teeth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a smile still present on his lips, his white teeth glistening even though there was no light.  I felt something brush against my leg, and looked in the mirror to see his brown eyes full of lust, trailing the fingers that loosely held the blade to caress my inner thigh, and my stomach twisted in disgust.  Slowly and carefully, he placed the blade on the inside of my leg, and pressed down harder, harder, and pulled. Before I could attempt some measure of self control, sparks of fire seared my mark and shot down my legs, and a scream tore itself from my lips.  Jacovis hummed in approval, a small chuckle escaping through his nose as he brushed my hair back to expose my neck. 

“Please,” I begged.  “My lord, please.  Let me go,” My pleas were lost on him, his gaze was transfixed on my blood that dripped down my arm and my leg, filling in the small cracks of the stone floor with crimson liquid.   I couldn't get out.  But I had to get out .   I had to-

“Wake up!” I screamed, jolting upright in bed and tumbling to the floor.  My heart thundered in my ears, and my back collided against the cool wall of my quarters in Haven.  I sat on the floor, my body trembling as I gasped for air with ragged breaths. My hands raced to my mark, then wrenched up my long sleeve to see there was no blood, and there was no cut on either limb. I bent my head down, watching sweat from my forehead roll down my nose and onto the worn rug. It was deafeningly quiet, and suddenly, the walls that felt reassuring a moment ago began to feel as if they were closing on me like that awful chamber. I grabbed my cloak and slid on my shoes, barely making it out the door on legs as shaky as a foals’. The cold air bit viciously at my cheeks, and I was thankful for it during my aimless walk. Eventually, I had found myself leaning against the tall walls outlining Haven, staring up at the Breach- its green glow unchanged- still swirling in the sky. I let out a small breath of relief. It was there, which meant that the dream wasn't real. This was real. I was still safe… for now. I drew my cloak tighter around me, the shock had started to wear off and I was not in the warmest of clothes; not to mention that the sweats that edged my brow were now making me freeze in the brisk night air. I stayed and stared up at the sky until I was shivering, endlessly sorting through possible scenarios of what we would face at Val Royeaux.  When I was twelve, I had been sent there to learn about the court system, to speak Orlesian, and to play the Game by doing Radonis’ dirty work on and off for years.  Killing mercenaries and messengers, slipping poison into a drink or two- it was commonplace there- I only hoped I had stayed low enough for someone not to recognize me.  When I returned to my quarters, I was half-frozen, and I didn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. 

Chapter Text

11- Val Royeaux

Solas

Solas rose early, lacing up his boots meticulously as the fire crackled softly in his quarters.  Yesterday, they had returned from the Hinterlands to establish some kind of connection to strengthen the Inquisition.  Today, they would depart from Haven again to journey to Val Royeaux, in hopes to calm the remaining Chantry.  He doubted anything would come of it, religious organizations were- in his experience- not subject to change, unforgiving, and highly political.  But he had to appreciate the effort, he thought, rising steadily and grabbing his pack, swiftly throwing it over his shoulder. His fingers curled around the chilled metal of his staff, and he held up his other hand and closed it into a fist, magically suffocating the fire. In the vast region of Ferelden, they were the only ones who sought change.  Being a part of it was inspiring. Though thinking of how many complacent people there were was… a little more than disappointing.  The sun was kissing the mountain range as he met Varric by the fire in the middle of Haven, along with the three advisors, and the Herald.  His eyes briefly scanned each person, all with varying but expected looks of fatigue, determination, and an air of restlessness.  But the Herald- he stopped on her a second longer, noting dark shadows under her eyes.  Her face was drawn, her green eyes that shone like the color of the Breach stood out even more so than usual with her paler complexion, and there was something else, something he did not expect.  She looked almost as if she were… haunted.  Solas’ brows raised a fraction, and for a second, it opened back up the list of questions about the puzzling looks he had seen her wear in the short time he had known her.  The Herald’s gaze snapped to his quickly, causing him to avert his eyes nonchalantly towards Josephine, who was bundled up from head to toe.  She clearly did not like the cold. Cassandra came trudging up the hill with two horses a moment later, one lead in each hand. 

“I think you missed a layer, Josephine,” Varric remarked with a dry chuckle, motioning to her various furs with a gloved hand as if she were on display. 

Josephine’s eyes narrowed at him.
“I do not see the point in needlessly suffering the cold,” she returned sharply. Varric snorted, but was quickly silenced by a particularly incredulous glare from Cassandra.  An Inquisition soldier brought forth two more fully dressed horses, with a small insignia of an eye branded into the small leather saddlebags.  All packs and cargo were loaded onto them with care, and they mounted without further sarcastic exchanges. 

The Commander patted the Herald’s horse, who wore an inky black coat. 
“All ready?” He asked, looking up at her, and to the rest of the group in turn. 

“Ready,”  The Herald replied, nodding her head briskly.  Solas saw her toes fidget in her boots seated in the leather stirrups and felt similarly- he was ready to ride. 

“Send word as soon as you make camp,” Leliana called.  “I had Harding and a few scouts set up a station for you all to rest without having to keep watch.” 

“Thank you, Leliana,” The Herald said quietly, adjusting her bag and her staff that was holstered on her right. 

Then, without fanfare, they departed for Val Royeaux, only a day after they had returned from the Hinterlands.  They barely stopped to take rest, due to the time constraints they were under.  Solas didn’t mind, it wasn’t as if he was doing the walking.  Besides, for some reason, riding kept Varric a considerable amount quieter than usual, allowing him to think without interruption.  Halfway through the moderately easy journey north, everyone had gathered at the fire to warm themselves from the increasing colder temperatures, except the Herald who had been pacing and frowning over a letter she had received from one of the Inquisition’s crows for at least ten minutes.  Solas sat contentedly near the fire, his feet warm for the first time since the night they spent in Haven.  The cold did not bother him much, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Hey, are you gonna come over here and tell us what you’re wearing a hole in the earth over?” Varric tilted his head back, calling to the Herald.  Cassandra gave him a judgemental glance in his direction before looking over her own shoulder. 

“I, too, would like to know what it is,” she prompted, moving herself forward on the log she was perched on.  

Only then did she step forward, her eyes still scanning the paper. 
“It is a letter, from Leliana,” she began, chewing her lip as she thought- a most undesirable habit. She finally looked up and moved around the log, seating herself to the right of Solas and to the left of Varric, directly across from Cassandra.  She maneuvered with grace, drawing her long legs inward to retain the warmth that the fire gave. “She received word not long after we left, a Madame Vivienne de Fer has invited us to her salon at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain,” she read, her brows still furrowed.  Cassandra shifted in her seat, a look of surprise crossing her face. 

“I had made the suggestion to Josephine, but I did not expect her to reply so quickly, much less extend an invitation. As First Enchanter, it might cause scandal,” she explained, her eyes staring at the letter that she held. Solas looked from her, to the Herald, extending his hand towards her. 

“May I?” He asked. She looked as though she were caught off-guard, jumping slightly at the request, then quickly handing it to him, returning her eyes back to Cassandra. 

Solas looked at the letter she must have read at least three times.

Herald,

Josie called in a few favors from Orlais. First Enchanter Madame Vivienne de Fer has cordially invited you and your party of the Inquisition to her private salon at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain.  I would advise accepting, but be wary of other party-goers, especially depending on how well addressing the Chantry turns out. It will be held at noon the following day you are expected to arrive.

-L

Solas pushed a small huff of amusement through his nose. Yes, depending on how well addressing the authority-driven humans goes, they might be able to continue as an organization, he thought dryly. He rather hoped it would go well, considering he would have to re-evaluate his current plan otherwise.  He took one last look at the paper, sighed softly, and handed it wordlessly back to the Herald, who gently took it, folding it back at the creases in the way it came. 

“I say we go.  Depending on the situation with the Chantry,” she suggested softly, her fingers pinching the end of the letter absentmindedly.  

“And I say we be careful.  Weigh our options.  For all we know, this may be a political trap,” Cassandra added, slouching forward to rest an elbow on her knee.  “She is, after all, First Enchanter.”  

Varric nodded quietly, his eyes staring at the fire as his mind turned over her words.  Everyone had turned in relatively quickly after that, and the rest of the journey was uneventful- despite the increasing amount of nervous jokes from Varric.  

The first second their boots hit the marbled cobblestone of Val Royeaux, the air seemed abuzz with energy. Cassandra and Varric took in the surroundings, the intricate statues that lined the gates of entry to the heart of the bustling city.  The Herald, however, did not.  Solas peered across the bodies of their companions to watch her, and there was a lack of awe that he would have expected someone who had not been there before to wear on her face.  Her lips should have been slightly parted, her green eyes wide and unblinking as her head craned this way and that to take in the vast explosion of art and color upon entry.  Instead, her lips were pursed, her eyes only roamed around here and there as she were checking specific areas and alleyways.  As they entered the outer city, a bell tolled in the distance, and Cassandra’s mouth hardened into a line.  

“The city still mourns,” she murmured solemnly, a touch of sadness deepening the lines around her face as her eyes became slightly unfocused from a memory taking hold. A flamboyantly dressed couple of a man and woman walked by, the female revealing perfectly straight teeth as she smiled, touching her partner’s arm while she laughed. She happened to tilt her feathered mask just so in the direction they had been walking and stopped dead in her tracks, the man she was with being jerked to a halt suddenly.  The woman gasped, her emerald green gown fluttering as her other hand that was not adjusting her mask flew to her mouth in surprise.  She  quickly changed course and ran down the cobblestone street, dragging the man behind her between her laced fingers.   The dwarf eyed the spot the woman had just been in a moment ago with raised brows.  

“Just a guess, Seeker,” he began with subtle amusement at the edge of his voice, “but I think they all know who we are.” 

“Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric,” Cassandra replied with exasperated dryness, stepping through another set of gates down a long alleyway of statues.  

Before Solas had any chance to ponder further, a human Inquisition scout wearing a green hood, field leathers, and a small iron pin with the symbol of a familiar eye scurried forth from the center of town.  The woman immediately kneeled in front of the Herald, crossing her right arm across her chest in a salute, bowing her head.  The Herald drew back, ears pinning slightly in what Solas could tell was distaste, her worn black boots sliding back on the delicately carved stone.  The rest of her body was rigid, still as the statues that surrounded them, as if she were holding herself in place. 

“My lady Herald,” she greeted reverently, waiting in a bowed position to receive further instruction.  

The Herald was frozen, her eyes slightly widened in surprise, wearing the expression she had ought to have worn just moments ago.  She did not have time to react, as Cassandra was more familiar with military and different ranked greetings.  

“You’re one of Leliana’s people.  What have you found?” 

The messenger shrank nervously.  

“The Chantry mothers are gathered in the square… but… so are a great number of templars.”

Cassandra’s jaw dropped open. 
“There are Templars here?” She asked, her brows drawing closer together.  

The scout nodded nervously.  “People seem to think the Templars will protect them from… from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market,” she explained, turning her head back towards the center of town, her brown eyes holding a sense of urgency.  

Cassandra’s face hardened.  

“Only one thing to do, then.”  

The group pressed on towards the plaza, Cassandra and the Herald leading the charge, along with the scout that walked quickly to match her long, purposeful strides.  Bright, colored fabrics littered several merchant’s stalls in rich hues of blues, purples and greens.  Varric looked every which way, seemingly interested in their wares, particularly at a weapons stall selling a variety of intricately carved arrows.  There was a rather large crowd just as the scout had described across the square, just past a large monument bearing several plaques and statues.  Cassandra eyed the crowd in confusion.  

“They wish to protect the people?  From us?” 

Solas looked over at the Herald, who seemed more irritated than worried.  

“We knew there would be some kind of reaction,” she muttered with a slight roll of her eyes.  “Protect them from the blasphemous ‘Herald of Andraste’, I’d say,” she added, then bit her cheek.  

“Surely they cannot think such a thing!” Cassandra gasped, lips slightly parted, her head quickly swiveling towards her.  

“Why not?  They wouldn’t be the only ones,” she replied, silencing the Seeker.  Cassandra’s mouth opened, then closed, as if she had been lost for words, because- she was right.  Solas stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, choosing to stay silent, although, he was intrigued.  A woman who appeared Dalish, though, he knew she was not.  Capable of intelligent conversation, although she was slightly hot-tempered, just like her flame red hair.  She was tight lipped, and did not reveal information without cause.   She had an apparent pre-existing gift with the Fade, or possibly a sensitivity- he wasn’t sure which- not only recognized, but openly communicated with a usually Fade-dwelling spirit.  And by the looks of it, she was certainly not impressed with Orlais.  

Who was she?   

Her unamused glare moved towards the crowd in question across the plaza, ignoring Cassandra’s astonishment and tightening the grip her teeth had on the inside of her cheek.  Varric’s head suddenly turned up to the Seeker.  

“Do you think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe?  To deal with us… upstairs?” He asked.  

Cassandra closed her eyes and shook her head. 
“I know Lord Seeker Lucius.  I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred.”  

“That just means we have a larger audience to convince, if anything,” The Herald interjected, sighing quickly through her nose, her nostrils flaring slightly, most likely from the tediousness of it all, and Solas didn’t blame her.    

“Perhaps,” Cassandra agreed minutely, her eyes trained on the group they were rapidly approaching.  The rest of the journey was made in silence, and the tension in the air seemed to increase two-fold with every step, until the Fade began to hum with energy, buzzing under his skin and into his bones.  They all stopped just shy of pushing their way through the crowd, when the Seeker looked over at the Inquisition scout.  

“Return to Haven.  Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed,” she ordered, though Solas could tell she was choosing her words carefully.  

“As you say, my lady,” she replied curtly, bringing her fist to her chest in a salute before abruptly turning and slinking back into the shadows from the covers of the merchant’s stalls.  Cassandra watched her go, then led the party through the crowds to press forward to the center.  

“Good people of Val-Royeaux, hear me!” A Chantrywoman called, clearly in her older years and far too comfortable in her position.  “Together, we mourn our Divine.  Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!  You wonder what will become of her murderer-” she turned around at that moment, stopping dead in her swooping movements as her dull hazel eyes widened in surprise when they fell upon the Herald.  It took her mere moments to recover, her eyes narrowed, and then she flung an arm in her direction. 
“Well… wonder no more!” She exclaimed, the crowd of Orlesian nobles gasping in shock, some even cowering from the party, separating them further from the crowd.  The Chantrywoman jumped at the opportunity, stepping forward with her hooded head held high.  

“Behold!  The so-called, ‘Herald of Andraste!’ Claiming to rise where our beloved fell.  We say this is a false prophet!” The old human woman spat, her gnarled face drawing into a scowl.  “The maker would send no elf in our hour of need!” 

The Herald bristled, and Solas could almost hear her grinding her teeth from here- though from the outside, if he hadn’t seen her react in the same way before- would not have noticed her reaction at all.  Her shoulders raised just a hair, her muscles tensing and her ears drawing back minutely, moving small tendrils of her hair that weren’t drawn back in her tight braid.  If anything, it made her look slightly more menacing- maybe that would get the woman on the raised platform to be quiet- at least, he hoped.  

“Enough!” She snapped, hushing the crowd in one fell-swoop.  “You say I am the enemy,” she said, pointing to herself, then towards the Breach, its inky green glow visible from Orlais.  “The Breach in the sky is our true enemy.  We must unite to stop it,” the Herald implored, her eyes locking onto the Chantrywoman’s, a silent plea hidden in their depths.  Murmurs and gasps whispered throughout the crowd, and the hooded Mother narrowed her eyes.

“It’s true!  The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late!” Cassandra agreed, stepping forward beside her. The air surrounding everyone seemed to shift slightly, and for just one moment, Solas almost believed that this was not all for nothing.  

Then the Chantrywoman froze, her eyes settling on something behind them that caused her to square her jaw, and curl her lips in contempt.

“It is already too late.”  

The sound of several heavy footfalls drew her attention, and the party’s, causing everyone to turn as the Chantrywoman pointed. 

“The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition’, and the people will be safe once m-” 

Another ripple of gasps skittered across the crowd as one of the Templars that filed up on the platform actually punched the Chantrywoman in passing, knocking her out cold. 

Cassandra’s eyes grew wide, Varric and Solas’ brows raised- Varric more so than he- and the Herald frowned, clearly not impressed. Solas moved his gaze between the Templars, then back to the three of them- this only continued to intrigue him.  A larger, pale human man with ashy black hair chopped roughly at shoulder length looked at the other Templar who had hit the Chantrywoman, his chocolate skin glistening in the sun from the sweat beading upon it.  

“Still yourself, she is beneath us,” the black-haired human told the other Templar, his eyes briefly passing over the Chantrywoman on the ground before casually stepping over her. 

“Not here to deal with the Inquisition after all, I take it?” Solas turned his head to see the Herald poised exactly as she was, though now one red-haired brow was raised about a half inch higher than the other.  

The black-haired man scoffed, his green eyes narrowing.  

“As if there was any reason to,” he replied, and Solas could tell there was a ghost of a smirk tugging at the edges of his cracked lips, as if he found this whole interaction amusing.  Cassandra stepped forward again, her mouth now closed and her expression determined.  

“Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative we speak with-”

“-You will not address me,” the Lord Seeker interjected abruptly, turning his head away from the Seeker and walking in front of the throng of Templars that gathered with him on the platform.  

“Lord Seeker?” Solas had lost track of how many times Cassandra’s mouth had fallen open- a rare thing, to say the least- and a true testament to what they were up against.  

Lucius then aimed his cloudy green glare at her.  “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed,” he said, an odd chill present in his voice that made goosebumps form on Solas’ arms through his tunic.  He could sense that the aura around him was not right, almost discordant with the Fade. The Lord Seeker rounded on the crowds, causing many women to stiffen, and men to cower. 
“You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who failed! You, who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect… is mine!” Lord Seeker snarled.  Everyone was silent, their heads moving from the Herald, to Lord Seeker Lucius and the crumpled Chantrywoman who had not yet come to wake.  

The Herald still wore the same stony expression, unimpressed, unsurprised, almost unbothered- but with that pinch of tension between her shoulders.  

“What we truly need, is an alliance that will seal the Breach,” she remarked lowly, quiet enough to qualify as peaceful- or very threatening.  

An amused smile tugged at the Lord Seeker’s lips. 
“Oh, the Breach is indeed a threat.  But you certainly have no power to do anything about it.”  

The Templar who had stayed behind Lucius the entire time, fidgeting nervously, stepped forward timidly to his side. 
“But, Lord Seeker, what if she really was sent by the Maker?  What if-” 

“You are called to a higher purpose!  Don’t question!” Another Templar barked, causing him to startle slightly, before turning his head back to Lucius, who had taken another step forward to stand on the very edge of the raised platform.  

“I will make the templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing,” he said, turning to the Herald and Cassandra, “ and the Inquisition… less than nothing,” he finished, turning to the other Templars suddenly. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!” He barked, and promptly led them out of the plaza without another word. 

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric grumbled, watching the Templars disappear behind buildings leading out of the city. Solas moved his gaze to Cassandra, whose mouth was now agape. 

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” She whispered, astonishment interlaced in her tone. 

The Herald moved her head in Cassandra’s direction. 

“Do you know him very well?” She asked, though he could plainly tell she was dubious of the strength of Cassandra’s former relations with him. 

It took a moment for the Seeker to respond, her eyes still transfixed on the column the last Templar had disappeared behind. 

“I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the order that do not feel as he does. Either way,” she continued, her brows drawing closer together as she thought, “we should return to Haven and inform the others.” 

The Herald frowned, and began chewing her lip once more. She turned to the side, then did something that surprised him: she knelt down, and sat next to the Chantry Mother.  It seemed to shock her as much as it did him, as she had almost jumped in surprise when the Herald sat quietly on the wooden platform next to her.  The attendees’ wide eyes quickly narrowed, lowering the hand she was using to press a cloth against the Mother’s temple, which was already starting to swell.  The Chantrywoman’s eyes narrowed towards the Herald, then to Cassandra. 

“This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra,” she muttered contemptuously, her lips drawing back in a spiteful sneer.  

The Seeker set her jaw, and Solas could tell she did not take kindly to the sharp jibe.  

“We came here only seeking to speak with the Mothers.  This is not our doing, but yours,” Cassandra returned smoothly.  

“And you had no part forcing our hand?  Do not delude yourself,” she snorted.  “Now we have been shown up by our own Templars, in front of everyone, and my fellow Clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions,” she sighed, wincing as she turned her head. Her eyes lingered on the wooden planks beneath her, then slowly turned her head towards the Herald.    “Just tell me one thing.”  

One of her bright red brows raised slightly in question, though she did not speak.  

“...Do you truly believe you are the Maker’s chosen?”

Her nostrils flared as she took in a subtle but deep breath through her nose, closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back at the Mother. 

“I am someone who can help close the Breach and end this madness,” she replied softly. 

Solas blinked.  He didn’t know why he expected some religious response from her, their previous conversations told him as much.  Perhaps, for the first time in quite a while, he simply did not know what he should be expecting.  

“That is… more comforting than you might imagine,” the Mother said, the weight of her thoughts making her pause.  “I suppose it is out of our hands now.  We shall see what the Maker plans in the days to come.”  

The Herald continued to ask several questions about the Templars, the Chantry, their next steps, and even offered the Inquisition’s hand one final time- to which this time- the Mother only politely declined.  Once the crowd had dispersed, they made their way back to their established lodgings to ready themselves for Madame de Fer’s salon that afternoon.  Solas was impressed with how efficiently Josephine set up rooms and wardrobe so quickly.  After Leliana’s brief correspondence on the way to Val Royeaux, Josephine had sent word to provide rooms and dress within a matter of days.  He washed up and changed quickly, adjusting his collar in the mirror and taking in his appearance.  He was dressed in matching rich blue velvet, and wore a form-fitting vest adorned with small gold fastens, with a sweeping tailcoat overlaying it.  The coat itself had cuffed, fitted sleeves that sported subtle gold trimmings- still too flashy, in his opinion. His navy trousers blended seamlessly into his knee-high boots, which were a polished, inky black. Once he was finished, he promptly exited his room and walked down the hall, hearing a string of curses being muttered behind Cassandra’s door, causing the corners of his lips to curl into a smirk- he never thought he would see the day that the Seeker had to be laced into a dress.  Solas spent the rest of the next hour and a half on the balcony, looking out over Val Royeaux.  Stone buildings pierced the sky, Orlesian gold lined the tops of archways and windows, gleaming in the orange glow of twilight.  Solas took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand against his vest, then sighed.  This view reminded him of what should have been…what should still be.  The clatter of hooves on stone drawing near pulled him out of his thoughts.  He knew it was time to go since the carriages were arriving, and walked down to the main hallway, where Varric was already waiting.  He sported a cream linen undershirt underneath a charcoal gray vest with trousers and boots to match.  He wore an overcoat of crimson leather, which was square-cut and complemented his shorter stature, with gold designs around the lapels.  

“Looking good,” Varric said with a grin.  Solas inclined his head at him in acknowledgement, and they both stepped outside. 

They did not have to wait long before Cassandra’s loud words of protest were audible from the other side of the main doors.  When it had opened, the Seeker stepped out first, wearing a simple gown of rich blue satin.  It sported a modest neckline, though it still dipped low enough to be considered fashionable by Orlesian nobility.  The sleeves were long and fitted, stopping just above the wrist and spoke nothing of extravagance. Embroidered gold formed a delicate belt around her waist, with a shield at its center, bearing what Solas could only assume was the Penteghast insignia.  Her skits fell into a layered cut at the bottom, to reveal sharp yet feminine black boots. 

“It is not that.  I just do not see why it is necessary-” Cassandra went on, her head still turned to the person behind the door as she stepped out. 

“-And I am sure there is no reason to assume we will encounter anything of the sort at a Salon of the First Enchanter,” the Herald replied dryly, stepping out after her, allowing the footman to shut the door, whom she politely curtseyed in silent thanks before leaving. 

The darkness of the Herald’s emerald gown made her bright green eyes seem to glow in broad daylight.  Her fiery hair was swept into intricate braids that wound around her head, accentuating her long, pointed ears.  A few small wisps of hair that were purposefully pulled from the updo kissed her neck as they were blown by the soft evening breeze.  Her neckline was slightly lower, more daring, with gold embroidery that seemed to be woven in a similar pattern to her Valaslin on the edges.  Her sleeves were flared, and her bodice was tight-fitting, and Solas blinked in surprise when he saw just how small she truly was.  Her matching green overskirt flared out in contrast, not with a bustle underneath, but with dark blue tulle that seemed to shift the colors of her floor length dress when she moved.  She was taller than her normal height as well, putting her an entire head above the Seeker. 

The Herald quickly turned to the group, delicately folding her hands in front of her. 
“All ready?” She asked, her eyes drifting over everyone’s appearance, stopping on Solas for a second, just as he had done with her. 

“As ever,” Varric replied with a hefty amount of sarcasm.

“Ugh.  Let’s get this over with,” Cassandra scoffed.  All of them filed into the Carriages, and Solas hoped that at least this Salon would yield some kind of results.   

Upon arriving, the Chateau was nothing less than Solas had expected: overtly- extravagant with thick gold columns, ornate archways, painted ceilings, and pristine, smooth marble floors were present wherever one looked. Once they were announced, they were- or at least, the Herald- was bombarded with questions from pesky human nobles wearing heavily adorned masks. Their party waited patiently near her as she conversed with them gracefully, weaving elaborate tapestries of small-talk and conversation as if she had done so a million times before. Curious, he thought.  The noblewomen were simply agog, fluttering their fans and gasping at her every remark. One lady, who held a very substantial and jovial man on her arm, chattered at her excitedly in an accent as thick as velvet.  

“Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you. I can not imagine half of them are true,” she said while leaning in, a question laying hidden in her tone of voice. 

The Herald’s blush-stained lips pulled upwards in a devilishly elegant smirk. 

“Everything you’ve heard? Completely true,” she replied without hesitation. The noblewoman’s mouth dropped open in shock before she covered it with her fan, while her partner’s eyebrows rose above his mask. 

“Better and better, the Inquisition should come to more of these parties,” she gushed. Solas’ eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. This woman was, at the very least, very good at orchestrating conversation. She moved carefully yet freely, the perfect description of elven grace and elegance, and he found himself waiting for her next clever remark.  

“So, you must be the guest of Madame De Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?” The nobleman asked, his navy tailcoat swaying as he stepped forward to better brace his over-excited partner, and perhaps, to keep her from asking too many questions.  The Herald arched a well-defined brow.  

“I know very little of Duke Bastien,” she said, gently prodding for information, which the woman caught onto almost immediately.  

“He hasn’t been seen much at court lately-” she said, only to be cut off in her gossip by being interrupted by her partner, who seemed just as eager to put in his fair share.  

“-His business with the Council of Heralds often takes him away from home for long periods.  Its can’t be good for a man of his years-”

“-And, of course, there’s the civil war.  Bastien probably wishes to distance himself from the actions of his one-time son-in-law,” she chittered.  

The man nodded quickly.  “Quite right, my dear,” he agreed, smoothing his rather large mustache. “Tearing up the Dales in a foolish bid for power?  It will end in disgrace for Gaspard.  Everyone knows it,” he sniffed. 

The Herald bit her cheek, her jaw clenching ever so slightly.  She whipped out her fan Solas hadn’t seen until now, a dark serpentine green that matched her dress with gold accents on the handle, which she flicked back and forth just enough to sway the tendrils of her hair.  His comment seemed to have struck a nerve.  Solas was definitely intrigued, as he had not heard anything of the sort in the Dales, nor had he thought news of the Dales to affect her so.  She had said she was, by most accounts, not Dalish, after all.  The Herald parted her lips slightly, about to reply to the nobleman, and to his dismay, Solas actually found himself leaning in. 

“Ah- the Inquisition? Ha!  What a load of pig shit!”  An impetuous voice barked from the top of the heavy marble staircase.  The couple and the group surrounding the Herald looked up to see a man adorned in a lavish outfit with a gold mask, his hand brushing the banister breezily as he sauntered down the steps.  “Washed up Sisters and crazed Seekers?  No one can take them seriously.  Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power,” he tutted sharply. 

The Herald shot him emerald daggers, straightening as he approached.
“The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas,” she stated calmly.  

So, she was taking the diplomatic approach?  Solas thought.  He couldn’t blame her, but this man seemed to have his own hidden agenda, who threw his arms out to either side of himself dramatically. 

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace and order… with an army!” He exclaimed sarcastically.  To his surprise, the Herald’s expression remained smooth as stone.  

“We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is,” he continued, his words laced with venom, “If you were a woman of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”  The man opened his mouth to speak yet again, but before Solas could blink, he felt a sudden wave in the air, then saw the seething nobleman freeze solid before his eyes.  Everyone turned their heads again to another voice coming from behind him.  

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house…to my guests.  You know such rudeness is… intolerable,” a woman with dark ebony skin slowly descended, the one that Solas assumed, cast the spell to freeze the Marquis.  She wore all white, the contrast between her eccentric clothing and skin a shock to the senses. Her large butterfly collars lined with gold moved subtly with every step she took as she descended the stairs to the landing and towards the Herald. 

“Madame Vivienne- I humbly beg your pardon!” The Marquis managed, his voice muffled as he begged through his teeth. 

“As you should,” Vivienne remarked smoothly, only blinking impassively in his direction, turning her head towards the Herald, her large headdress catching the last of the sun’s glow through the grand windows.  “What ever am I going to do with him?  My dear, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair.  What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”  She asked her, motioning one of her perfectly manicured fingers in the Marquis’ direction, while one hand remained splayed on her chest.  The Herald lifted her chin confidently, her expression poised. 

“I think the Marquis has seen the… error of his ways,” she said cooly to the First Enchanter. 

Vivienne promptly turned to the Marquis.  “By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear.  Do be more careful with it,” she sighed, waving her hand trivially, the same wave echoing through the Fade, and unfreezing the Marquis.  He fell to his knees coughing and sputtering as large shards of ice scattered onto the floor, his hand braced the cool stone floor to maintain what remained of his dignity, and when he was able, made a hasty retreat.  Everyone watched him go, until Vivienne motioned her head towards the courtyard, and they began walking. 

“I’m delighted you could make this little gathering, I have so wanted to meet you,” she said with an excited smile.  

***

Madame de Fer, in Solas’ opinion, was a product of fear mongering mage teachers, and he found himself silently disagreeing with her on every opinion she had about magic and current politics.  The Herald held her tongue and was for the most part, unreadable during the entire affair.  The most important thing was, they had gained an ally, and a powerful one at that.  Someone who held a real foothold in Orlais- it would undoubtedly become something they would desperately need.  After settling affairs with Madame Vivenne, as soon as they walked out into the town square, all of them visibly relaxed with varying degrees of slumping, muttering and cursing under their breath. 

“Maker’s balls,” Varric laughed breathily.  “Talk about a trip to write home about,” he said with a wry grin, looking up at the Herald.  Though she did not give it away in her posture, her eyes held a similar, dark look they did before departing Haven.  She breathed out a harsh sigh of agreement, half a voiceless laugh, and half as relief that it was all over.   They were all tired, including Solas.  Once they made their way back to the front gates of the Chateau, the Herald bent to the side, dodging an arrow that flew past her head and struck the stone behind her.  Unfortunately, it seemed they were not done with the day.  

“What in the- an arrow with a message?” Cassandra managed, her head whipping towards the Herald, then to the stone column. 

 She wasted no time replying to the Seeker, marching up to the large gray structure, and pulling a note off of a red-feathered arrow, her eyes scanning the note quickly.

“What’s it say?” Varric asked, staring at the note as if trying to read what it said through the back side.  

The Herald frowned, and passed the note to Varric. 
“Huh,” he remarked while reading. 

Cassandra scowled.  “Let me see,” she nudged Varric, leaning over him until he moved his hand holding the note to the side for her to read.  He eventually handed it to her, and she stared at it, mirroring The Herald and Varric’s expression.  Solas stepped forward, his curiosity preparing to claw its way out. 

“May I?”  He asked, gently extending his hand towards the Seeker.  She handed him the scrap of parchment, which was inscribed with red ink in a sloppy print:  

People say you’re special.  I want to help, and I can bring everyone.  There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you.  Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and ‘round the cafe, and maybe you’ll meet him first.  Bring swords. 

-Friends of Red Jenny

Solas felt his own brow furrow. 

“So, guess the night’s still young, huh?” Varric asked before he had a chance to form even half a thought. 

“It appears so, Varric,”  the Herald sighed, exasperation present in her voice.  Solas looked up and caught her eye, her expression mirrored in his.  She shot him a knowing look, so quick that if he wasn’t looking, he wouldn’t have seen it before they began searching for clues for another hour. 

It turned out, Solas was wrong- there was someone he could dislike more than Madame De Fer.  A short, choppy-haired elf who called herself Sera insisted on joining the Inquisition, and from either exhaustion or lack of sense, the Herald allowed her a meeting at Haven. After three hours of scavenging for nonsensical clues, killing a nobleman who was a pompous ass, and meeting that elf woman, everyone had returned to their lodgings in Orlais.  All of them went to their separate chambers to bathe, and turned in quickly to depart the next day back to Haven.  That morning, no one said a word, not even Varric. While they walked out of the city, Solas sighed, he was glad to be leaving this place.  

“Herald, if I might have a moment of your time?” A voice asked from behind them. They all stopped and slowly turned to see an elven woman clad in circle robes approached them, stopping them in their tracks.  Cassandra’s and the Herald’s eyes widened.  

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?”  The Seeker asked.  Solas recognized her once she had spoken her name.  

“Leader of the Mage rebellion,” Solas breathed.

Chapter Text

13-The Fade

“Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” Solas asked, his head tilted slightly to the side.  I had no idea there was a ‘mage rebellion’- such a thing would never be allowed to exist in Tevinter.  How was it possible in a region so vast, that mages had such little power?  I had riddled that poor, wounded Chantry Mother on the platform as discreetly as I could with questions, but that did not yield as many answers as I needed- much less wanted.  In order to mask my origins, I couldn’t ask what I needed to know- I had to act like I had some sort of general grasp on Ferelden politics- which would have been far easier if I had simply played Dalish.  But I was far too resentful for that.  Fiona’s voice interrupted my thoughts. 

“I heard of this little gathering, and hoped that you might be here. I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.  If it’s help with the Breach you seek, then perhaps you should look among your fellow mages,” she suggested.  My eyes narrowed just a fraction, and I voiced the question in my head aloud. 

“I’m surprised that the leader of the mages wasn’t at the Conclave.” 

Cassandra looked my way, then towards Fiona, nodding her head.
“Yes.  You were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death,” she commented, and I could tell she was suspicious. 

Fiona listened silently, politely dipping her head, her short black hair falling across her forehead. 
“As did the Lord Seeker, you’ll note.  Both of us sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap.  I won’t pretend I am not glad to live.  I lost many dear friends that day.  It disgusts me to think that the Templars will get away with it,” she nearly spat, her lips curling downward as if tasting sour wine.  When she looked up, her eyes held a steely resolve. “ I am hoping you won’t let them.”

“So you think the Templars are responsible for what happened at the Conclave?” I pressed.  This woman may have been genuine, but there was always more than one side to every story. 

Cassandra breathed out a sigh and shook her head.  

“Why wouldn’t she?” 

Fiona nodded her head in agreement, adjusting her long thick blue robe. 

“Lucius hardly seems broken up over his losses, if he’s concerned about them at all,” she answered, her hands motioning wildly towards the center of town where they stood minutes ago.  “You think he wouldn’t happily kill the Divine to turn people against us?  So, yes. I think he did it.  More than I think you did it, at any rate,” she said, her eyes darkening.  I could tell she was trying to convince me to take in the mages.  But why? 
The white fur lining on her sleeves caught the weak rays of the golden sun.  “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe,” she offered, her gaze now intently fixed on me.  “Come meet with the mages- an alliance could help us both, after all.  I hope to see you there.  Au revoir, Lady Herald.”  All of us watched her go in silence, her retreating form growing smaller, leaving more room for the light of the dying day to cast a yellow-gold on the too familiar stones near the gates.  

“Come, let us return to Haven,” Cassandra’s voice cut thick through the silence.  

Once we had returned to Haven, none of us cared much about de-briefing.  Everyone, including myself, immediately retired.  My cabin was mostly comfortable, but ever since the nightmare before leaving Val Royeaux, I found myself unable to sleep there. After changing and bathing, although exhausted, my nerves were on fire and I ended up poking around the village for several hours.  I had come across a larger cabin on the outskirts of Haven, half-buried in snow and away from the gates down a winding dirt path.  I ventured inside, and opened the doors to be greeted by a large, once welcoming space.  Within it held a small preparation area with a table and three chairs clustered beside it, and a large living section with a sizable, well-made fireplace on the back wall that had a small, worn rug at the foot of it. With the walls farther apart and the ceiling taller- though a bit drafty- it made it a little easier to breathe.  I scurried back to my quarters, and snatched a blanket, a book, and my traveling bedroll, only to run back with them towards the large Cabin.  I got a few strange looks from a trio of passing Inquisition scouts, including one from Commander Cullen, who was with them, holding a piece of parchment.  His breath fogged in the cold air, and his liquid amber gaze met mine.  His eyes were tired, his face shadowed, but he said nothing to me as I passed, only moving his head slightly in a small nod of respect.  I loaded the fireplaces with logs from Threnn’s wood pile near the Chantry- hoping she wouldn’t miss it.  Flames came roaring to life, logs eagerly ablaze as I magically lit the fire.  A set of candles that were nearly at their ends sat on the table, so I moved them to the mantle, putting fire to their wicks, and tucked myself neatly into my bedroll.  I had no idea whose home this really was, but it didn’t look used enough for anyone to care. The thoughts of the journey began to press against the walls of my mind, and I finally allowed myself to dissect the series of events that had occurred in Val Royeaux.  The Chantry was outright refusing help from the Inquisition, their final stance of us was that we were a heretical movement that had no place among their lofty world of politics. It would only make it that much harder to gain support, which is why I had been adamant about not turning down help unless it was absolutely necessary.  I was surprised to see the Templars turning on their sister counterpart as they did, and there was something.. odd about the whole interaction- besides an official Templar punching the daylight out of a Chantry Mother, no less. Something in his energy felt… cold, or wrong.  The look in his eyes when he stared me down across the town square was not unsettling for the right reasons, but I couldn’t figure out why.  All I know is that it made my scalp prickle and sent a chill down my spine. 

‘At least some good came from it all’, I thought to myself. 

Apart from the Templars and Cassandra’s obvious shock and dismay towards Seeker Lucius, Madame de Fer and the Friends of Red Jenny were interested in helping the Inquisition- possibly along with Fiona- whose timing was remarkably… convenient.  I could tell that she was hiding something from the way she spoke, giving away just enough without revealing too much.  Making an enticing offer that was more or less spontaneous. Most of all, I was thankful that I hadn’t seen anyone that recognized me.  My eyes kept darting to every alleyway, every familiar shop, just to be sure.  Maybe the fact that I was the ‘Herald of Andraste’ kept everyone’s eyes down.  I don’t quite remember when I had stopped thinking it through. I must have drifted into sleep, falling past the call of the Fade, or any of the incessant nightmares that swarmed my mind when I closed my eyes.  I woke up just a bit before the sun, and went back to my quarters, changing again into my field gear and warmer clothes.  Cassandra was pounding on my door minutes later, apparently one night of uninterrupted sleep had restored her to her full level of brashness.  

After a few heated discussions through several pairs of bleary eyes, I had forced us to travel again to the Hinterlands after a brief respite.  I met with Vivienne and Sera the day before leaving, much to Solas’ obvious disapproval.  When I walked into the tavern with the blonde elf, I saw him leaving the Chantry with a satchel and his staff.  He turned, caught my eye, and upon seeing who I was with, narrowed his own into slits and promptly turned in the other direction.  I internally rolled my eyes when it happened- I didn’t care who thought who were socially acceptable supporters of the Inquisition- they were supporters, and that was all that mattered, all that we could afford.  All that I could afford. Leliana had her eyes and ears out for contacts in every part of Ferelden, even in the most remote of places I would never have thought to expect.  In the Hinterlands within a particularly rural valley near a lake, lived a recluse soldier.  A Warden Blackwall, a scruffy man with eyes as blue as the sky on a cloudless day, had caught the Spymaster’s attention by nearly eliminating all banditry in a small portion of the southwest.  Upon us asking, he was willing- eager even- to join our cause.  He had a kind demeanor, but I knew better than to see only what was on the surface.  A man willing to sign up too quickly for a risky cause always had shadows.  He had agreed to meet us at Haven as we left him to wrap up his business, and we set out to return, by way of closing a few rifts and checking on the security of Dennett’s farmlands.  We made camp quickly when evening arrived due to the incoming winter, pitching our tents and settling in a relatively peaceful area with mountains and hills surrounding us on all sides. Varric was in the middle of talking to Cassandra when I finally started paying attention to the conversation.  

“I’m just saying, it was weird.  Has everyone gone mad?  A Templar punched a Chantry Mother in the face,” He emphasized, whipping out a rag to polish Bianca.  

“Varric-”  Cassandra started, only to be cut off by his ravings.  

“Half of them- who am I kidding- all of them are idiots- Chantry and all that political crap.  But aren’t they supposed to be working together on this?”  He asked.  Cassandra sighed, flicking out her bedroll with a flourish and beginning to flatten it.   

“I agree, it was not like him to allow his men to act in such a manner, nor was it like him to talk in such a manner. I-” 

Varric held up a hand, shaking his head. 
“Not only that.  There was something about him.  Made my hair stand on end.”  

I reached into my bag, but my ears were now perked, this conversation had mirrored my thoughts the last few days.  Solas did not move an inch, but his eyes flicked up to Varric as well.  

“Mine too,” I murmured.  All of them looked my way for a second, as I did not usually talk much.  Varric pointed in my direction, as if I were living proof.

“See?  Exactly.  And Fiona, that ‘grand enchanter’, appearing when we were leaving?  That timing was weird.  And I don’t know about you, but I think she was definitely hiding something.”  

“It was interesting that Lord Seeker and Fiona were there,” Cassandra concurred, her brows knitting together in thought.  

“And had conveniently sent advisors in their stead to the Conclave,” Solas interjected, his eyes studying on a book he held in his hands.  I squinted at the cover, and narrowed my eyes.  He had stolen one of my books again.  When did he do that?  

Varric was getting more jumpy by the minute.  I pulled my other book out of my bag, the one Solas hadn’t stolen- yet.  It was a book I had recently acquired in Val Royeaux: Triumphs and Conquests: an Orlesian History.  

“Convenient?  I’d say it was a little more than that.  All of them, supposed to be dead, now in the same place at the same time… smells like a story.”  

Cassandra rolled her eyes, clearly drawing the line. 
“Varric…” She started incredulously.  

“What?  Even a blind nug could see that,” Varric pressed on.  Cassandra and Varric argued semantics, while I watched them for a few minutes longer, but becoming increasingly distracted, no longer so focused on the conversation, but more on my new book.  

“Orlesian text… in Orlesian?”  Solas asked from directly behind me.  I jumped, and whipped around, my wide green eyes meeting his. I hadn't seen him move.

“Oh- um, yes,” I said quickly, then mentally slapped myself.  

You’re doing great, I told myself with an internal eye roll. 

Solas peered over my shoulder, continuing to scan the text.  “And you can read Orlesian?” He asked, his tone more along the lines of curious rather than dry.  I wasn’t going to be able to hide that from him- he was probably going to nick it anyways.  I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a small, sheepish smile.  

“Not Dalish, remember?”  I asked quietly.  His lips twitched, then a small smirk tugged up the corners of his lips. 

“Not Dalish,” he repeated in nearly a whisper with a small nod of his head, as if he were promising to keep it a secret.  Something in his eyes gleamed, from intrigue or silent humor, I wasn’t sure.  He walked on towards his tent silently, not bothering to excuse himself.  Making sure I wouldn't be missed,  I took my book and clambered up a rock three times my height to read flat on my back, facing the sky, with the text held straight up at arm’s length.  I had gotten through half of the seventh chapter by the time Varric and Cassandra retired, and somewhere between the eighth and ninth, had drifted off to sleep in the cool evening.  

I woke up in the fade, the world spinning just a bit as I sat upright, to be greeted by a darker sky.  The dreamscape resembled the valley we had taken to camp in, and the barren tree branches seemed to dance in the air with the breeze.  Stars glittered in the sky above, a vast sea of dotted white light that was ten times more luminous than the one I had fallen asleep under.  I left my book, which lay there by my side, and hopped down the rock.  I began walking, exploring, as I had done so many times before the Conclave.  I hadn’t visited the fade at all for weeks, and I missed it.  The familiar thrum of magic sang in my bones, and pulled me forward with ease.  I  ventured towards a small cavern carved into one of the mountains nearby, ducking under the foliage to avoid a face-full of branches.  I thought the inside would be small, but it seemed to stretch on endlessly into the darkness.  I found that when I entered, I could stand comfortably, and moved aside quickly as two playful spirits skittered through the cave and out from where I came.  The cave itself seemed to hum, and I felt myself drawn into the long, dark tunnel.  I began to walk, ever so curious, dodging a few protruding rocks, stepping over uneven ground. A blue glowing light shone in the distance, similar to the mage lights that lie illuminated in the cavern where I found the phylactery in the waking world. This light, however, the closer I got, seemed to be moving towards me.  It was casting light in a smaller, more condensed area, and as I approached, I realized that it wasn’t a mage light at all.  I stopped at the threshold into a smaller part of the cavern, and a blue wisp darted out from inside, flying around me, then bobbing up and down in front of me almost excitedly.  The energy felt… curious, content, and oddly familiar.

“Wait a minute… are you the same wisp Solas and I met in the forest?” I asked quietly, my eyes narrowing.  It pulsed brightly, settling just above my outstretched hand, almost in confirmation.  A smile broke out over my face, my worldly reservations forgotten. 

“I knew it.  It’s nice to see you again. What have you been up to?” I asked, laughing softly in delight as it touched my nose lightly, its energy tickling my face.  Suddenly, it broke away, and flew off down into the smaller part of the cavern.  I followed it quickly, peeking in to see it bobbing up and down, as if it wanted me to follow it. My brow furrowed. 

“Hold on,” I insisted, ducking and bending over to make sure I didn’t hit my head as I crossed the threshold.  It pulsed faintly in reply, flickering quickly as if impatient. Once I had safely entered, it took off once more. I had to move fast to catch up to it, my bare feet echoing off the stone as I ran down the tunnel that became more and more treacherous as I went.  I yipped in surprise when my foot caught under a branch that spread across the floor, throwing my hands out in front of me, waiting for the fall- only for them to hit the cold stone wall at the end of the tunnel.  I opened my eyes that I had squeezed shut, and found a small opening near the bottom, which the wisp drifted out of. Getting down on my hands and knees, I crawled through the small hole, but was on the other side made me gasp in surprise. I looked up-  I  knew I was no longer in the Hinterlands in an instant.  Long, lush green grass swallowed my fingertips- and the smell of rain and moss filled my nostrils.  I was now in a small clearing surrounded by trees that stretched towards the sky, taller than any building I had ever seen.  I climbed to my feet rather ungracefully, dusting off the fine sediment that was still on my hands from the cavern wall and spun in a circle to look around.  The sky was a deep, dark blue, almost purple, with the moon full and bright hanging overhead. Handfuls of wisps gathered in clusters like I had never witnessed near the tops of the trees, and an odd mist hung in the air like little clouds, the moonlight casting an iridescent glow onto them. The entire forest felt like it was alive, and the fade thrummed loudly in my ears. The air was powerful, magical.  I walked forward, unsure where the wisp went, but curious about where I was.  The leaves of the trees I pushed through to leave the clearing caressed my face, feeling like fingers wearing velvet gloves. As I walked, I began to hear voices, whispers, and I swore I could hear something that sounded like singing carried on the breeze.  I decided after climbing a steep hill, to scale a tree for a better vantage point.  The tree was cool from the night air, its bark smooth and almost pleasing to touch, and its branches were long and full of leaves, unlike the ones that lay barren from the cold weather in the Hinterlands. I looked out and sighed, there were endless trees dotting the horizon, full of mountains and rolling hills that seemed to stretch on endlessly in beautiful colors of vibrant golds, reds and greens.  I peered through the patches of mist, and spotted a figure; tall, lean, with a familiar looking staff. 

Solas?

He wandered through the forest below, his hand brushing against the tree next to me, trailing his fingers along the smooth bark.  My heart stuttered, and the fade shuddered slightly around me, echoing emotions in ways no one could ever properly explain.  I felt guilty, as I now knew I was intruding- I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. 

But I couldn’t turn away.  Not when I could finally learn more about him, more about this place that was more beautiful than the Emerald Graves.  

Your curiosity is dangerous, my sweet.  A voice echoed in my mind, but I ignored it.  For the first time, I wasn’t afraid to be curious- no one would be here to lash me for it.  

I followed him, the trees so close that I could walk or jump to the next heavy limb.  The fade seemed to extend the branches, indulging my curiosity, and a breeze would occasionally move aside intruding brush that would have hindered my path. I could see two spirits encased in a golden light up ahead, no doubt what he was following.  He stopped where the trees began to thin, watching them move, and listening to the whispers that seemed to echo into the night.  The words that reached my ears were not intelligible, except for the fact that they were in elven.  I strained harder to listen, and bent over the next strong branch to try and get a closer look.  The spirits faded away like a memory before I was able to make them out or sense them properly, and I breathed out a small sigh of frustration.  Solas’ shoulders dropped as if he, too, had sighed, and gazed out into the small clearing nearby, an unreadable expression crossing his face. I tried to straighten my stance in order to climb towards the next limb, but pressing my weight over the bough made my feet shift just enough for me to slip.  I caught myself, but it made a loud, scraping noise, and caused a small branch to fall from the tree onto the ground behind him.  

Shit.  

My eyes widened, and I froze, my blood thundering in my ears once more.  

Solas turned around, now sensing my unease in the air, almost as if he could smell it.  

“Who is there?” He called out, his voice calm and unafraid.  I didn’t answer, instead I waited, hoping that if I stilled myself enough, he would not investigate any further.  The sudden fear of being caught now permeated my mind, affecting my senses.

Solas stepped forward towards the tree I was up in, and unease washed over me.  

“I know you’re there,” he said quietly, and I could feel the familiar pull of his magic, his sense reaching into the air. It hummed strongly here, and the air suddenly felt wanting, waiting, expecting.  Then, out of fear, I did a stupid thing:

 I ran.  

I hopped down the branches, sliding down as best I could, and falling the rest of the way- my stomach pitching until I broke my fall with a roll onto the ground.  I took off into the woods in a sprint, retracing my path in an attempt to go back the way I came.  

The mist parted for me as I ran through patches of it, the ground shimmering lightly where my feet landed, bleeding fear.  Solas didn’t call after me, but I heard him run, his footsteps fast and sure on the forest floor. It seemed to warp to his will, every time I thought I lost him, I could hear his breath almost in my ear the next moment- until I slipped, falling down that steep, steep hill I had climbed.  I tumbled down, rolling to a stop in a heap, but once I hit the earth, I didn’t stop moving- I was almost there.  I saw a shadow on my right, and dove further into the forest where the trees were thicker, and hid behind one to catch my breath.  I pulled the mists around me with my magic, hoping that it would help camouflage my presence.  The forest was still, and I could hear his breaths and mine mingling.  He was fast- impossibly so.  The air was thick with his anticipation, and my heart galloped in my chest.  What would he do if he caught me?  It almost felt as if I were being… hunted.  I felt guilty, and I cursed in my head, wishing I hadn’t come, hadn’t stayed, even though I had no idea what I was walking into at first.  I swallowed, trying to even my breathing to stop it from being so loud, but it was nearly impossible.  Then, I heard him speak.  He was close.  

I heard a rustle of fabric, then saw soft lights, wisps, slowly travel across the forest floor that illuminated the roots.  I pulled the thick mists as tightly as I could around me, hiding.  

“Strange,” I thought I heard him whisper.  I could hear him turn in my direction, and I could feel my energy, my magic humming just beneath my fingers.  

“I know you are there.  Show yourself,” he demanded quietly. I heard a rustle again, and I dared to peek out from behind the tree.  I saw him almost in front of the very one I hid behind.  He had turned his head, the wisps’ light illuminating his sharp features, almost sharper than in the waking world. Now was my chance.  I bolted out from behind the tree and ran faster, and faster, trying to make it towards the clearing.  I dodged and weaved around the trees, confusing anyone smart enough to track, pulling the mist with me, using my magic to cause my energy to stick a little longer than it should.  

“Stop!”  I heard his voice, more distant now.  Good-  I could see the trees start to clear, and hope bloomed in my chest.  

My fear was white hot.  The emotions rolled off of me more easily in the fade, and the feeling of being hunted, the fear of the unknown clouded my senses.  The next thing I knew, I felt something grab hold of my arm, causing me to stumble.  I cried out, my green eyes, wide and afraid, met his. Afraid that I would be punished.  

His eyes were blue, just like they were on the other side of the veil, though here, they held flecks of a deeper purple that made him look otherworldly.  

Once he saw me, he froze, and the forest seemed to quiet, the feeling of anticipation, of prowling, slowly fading. He wore a completely shocked expression. 

“You-” He started, but I didn’t give him the chance. 

“Wake up,” I whispered, my voice a trembling whisper.  The next blink, I bolted upright, nearly launching myself off the rock I had fallen asleep on. The color, the magic, the feeling of power being pulled away from my consciousness when I awakened was jarring, almost like being submerged in icy cold water. I snatched up my book, ran through camp, which was thankfully quiet, dove into my bedroll, and waited.  I clutched the book to my chest, as if it would give me some sense of security.  I could hear a flap of a tent rustle, along with soft footsteps.  I saw a shadow outside my tent approach, and I held my breath.  It paused, then retreated, and I let out the air trapped in my lungs shakily in relief.  

I lay there, the hum of the fade still stronger in my ears. I knew I couldn't go back to sleep, not tonight. He would look for me, and he would find me. The next morning, I emerged from my tent, book in hand. Cassandra and Varric were already awake, packing their belongings into their bags. As I approached, Varric took one look at me and let out a low whistle. 

“Shit, kid. You look like you fought grizzlies instead of sleeping,” he said with a small huff of laughter, then he looked a little closer, sobering a little.. “You alright?” He asked, his voice now tinged with concern.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him, clearly disapproving of his very apparent, willful ignorance of social propriety. 

I held up my book, shaking it slightly. 

“No, just reading too late, I'm afraid,” I said with a shrug. 

Just then, Solas emerged from his tent, his field robes crisp and fastened, as per usual. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t dare meet his gaze, and I felt my cheeks heat ever so slightly. 

I was embarrassed not only because I intruded, I was embarrassed that he caught me, especially at the moment when I was so… vulnerable. 

Varric shook his head.  “Late night reading will do that to you.  One minute, you’re just relaxing, the next minute you’re fighting to stay awake to get to the next plot twist,” he said, peering over at the title of my book, then making a slightly disgusted expression.
“Or maybe just trying to stay awake, period.  Orlesian text?  Really?” He asked incredulously, to which I just shrugged.  

“I like history.  Helps me know things,” I replied simply, tucking into my bag.  

Cassandra put her bag down to begin saddling her horse, rolling her eyes at Varric. 

“History is a fine subject.  Perhaps if you were more well-read, you would be able to write with more accuracy and tact,” she retorted. 

A look of dramatic shock crossed his face, his mouth hanging open. 
“Did you all hear that?” He asked, sticking a thumb in Cassandra’s direction.  

“Yes,” Solas and I replied in an equally dry tone, both of us not even bothering to look up.  

The rest of the day was spent traveling back to Haven after ensuring all was secure with Dennet’s lands.  Unfortunately, there was more apostate activity in places we had previously cleared, and the Inquisition scouts were having trouble keeping a foothold.  We swept through the area, teaming up with the soldiers and community to eliminate the threats, which ended up delaying us two extra days due to more rifts forming from excess magic straining the veil.  In one of the last outposts we had cleared, we ended up finding several caches inside of a large cave the rebel mages had holed up in.  Sorting through the valuables, most of the soldiers were sent out to deliver and disperse heavy bags full of materials to townspeople nearby on the farm and at the Crossroads.  

“Why did they have so much stuff?” Varric asked, eyeing at a tall stack of books.  

“Who knows.  Perhaps some were attempting to truly live away from the circles, and didn’t want any involvement in the war,” Cassandra replied, cautiously picking up a staff, pinching it with her thumb and index finger as if it were blighted- or about to catch on fire- and propped it against the rocky wall.  

“Huh. Yeah, that’s wishful thinking.  Anyone who lives in a cave isn’t up to anything good.  Especially when said cave is filled with apostates, Seeker,” Varric huffed dryly.  Solas was busying himself with taking valuable potions he had found lined up on a small table, organizing them by type.  “Seeker, if you were a runaway mage who wanted nothing to do with war, would you stay in a cave full of bloodthirsty and vengeful apostates?”  He asked incredulously.  The Seeker scowled, and folded her arms. 

“Varric- that’s completely insensiti-” Cassandra started, but paused when she saw my expression.

I was on the east wall of the cave when I felt it.  A pulling sensation and a tingling in my hand that held the mark.  I frowned, and stopped sorting through the collection of cloaks, poisons and smaller items I was focusing on.  I rose to my feet, and walked towards the hum of something that felt like magic.  

“What is it?”  Cassandra asked, her voice echoing inside of the now mostly empty cavern.  I didn’t answer, instead, I walked forward to the back wall towards a burlap sack that lay mostly hidden beneath a tattered blue cloak. My knees scraped the uneven earth as I knelt down and pulled open the tie at the top.  I reached inside, and it didn't take long for my fingers to meet something smooth and cool.  Pulling it out into the open, I hear the shuffle of footsteps of everyone gathering behind me to look over my shoulder.  It was a box: wooden and simple, not adorned with any carvings or designs, and it had no lock.  

“Are you going to tell us how you knew that would be over here, hiding in plain sight? Or…” Varric trailed, but Cassandra held up a hand, effectively silencing him, while her eyes were transfixed on the box. Everyone was silent. I could practically hear Solas holding his breath, and suddenly, the air became thick with tension.  I opened the box, and inside, lay a small carved statue out of white marble.

Varric held out his arms forward cautiously, his palms facing away from him. 
“Okay, whatever you do, just don’t-” 

My fingers grazed the cool stone, and immediately, I could feel power from my mark being pulled into the small figure in a flash of green light.  The statue seemed to shimmer faintly, and the buzz in the air that was present the entire time we had been here had disappeared instantly. 
Everyone, including me, flinched in surprise.  None of us moved for a few seconds, only our breathing filling the silence, watching the green glow around the statue slowly fade.

“... touch it,” Varric finished dryly, as if proving his point.  I held it up to examine it more closely, and I could feel Solas almost bending over me trying to get a better look.  I pushed a silent sigh through my nose, wordlessly handing it to him by flicking it behind my shoulder, which he instantly took.  

“Every time,” Varric sighed, shaking his head, then grew serious.  “Everyone alright?” He asked, turning around to see if all of us were still standing and in one piece, and not magically cursed.

I nodded quietly.  “A bit shocked, but not worse for wear.  It felt like it was drawing power from my mark.”  I shook my hand for good measure, mostly to try and free the pins and needles that felt like they were stuck in it.  

“It seems to have stabilized the veil somewhat,” Solas breathed, pausing, before tilting his head and turning the statue over gently in his hands.  “I recognize this.  This is an elven artifact.  I have not come across one in such good condition,” Solas breathed.  

I turned towards him, now intensely curious.  

“It is ancient magic, used to focus power- though time has erased their exact purpose,” he added, his fingers brushing along the cool stone.  His eyes drifted towards my marked hand that still faintly buzzed with energy, as if he could sense it too. 

“Fascinating,” he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself, or maybe to me. I looked over at him at the sound of his voice and our eyes locked, the first time since the fade.  They seemed to shine with curiosity and intrigue, his gaze penetrating.  I blinked quickly and averted my eyes down towards the statue once more.

I proceeded to put the artifact in my bag, which gained an immediate negative response. 

“Waaait, wait, you’re taking that with us?” Varric asked with a small nervous laugh.  

“Are you sure that is wise?” Cassandra asked, her inflection rising as her tone became increasingly more worried.  “Couldn’t it be dangerous?”  

I shook my head.  “It doesn’t feel threatening.  Besides, if there were apostates who hid this away, there’s likely a reason for it.  Better it be in our hands for now,” I replied, flipping my satchel shut and fastening the brass clasp.  

“As long as we aren’t carrying a ticking time bomb back to Haven,” Varric grumbled, rising to his feet, his boots scraping on the gravelly floor.  

I gave him a sideways glance.  “You already had to cart me back to Haven once, I won’t have you do it again,” I teased, referring to me instead of the marbled statue.  

Varric stopped, and blinked in surprise.  The next moment, he barked a laugh that echoed loudly in the cave.  

“Wow, a joke from the nearly silent Herald of Andraste?  Watch out, Seeker, we’ll be exchanging lines before you know it,” he said, throwing a wink my way.  I shook my head and bit my cheek, hiding my smile, as to not give him any more ammunition.  

Cassandra glared at me, her sharp gaze traveling between me and Varric.  

“One of you is more than enough,” she replied curtly.  

Varric smirked, raising his eyebrows and walking out of the cave’s mouth.  

“Come on, I've had enough of creepy, dark caves. I need a bath.  And a drink,” he called to us from over his shoulder. 

***

We arrived at Haven the next day, and all of us, once again, retired to our own respective corners of the village. Varric went straight into the tavern, I saw Solas disappear with books down a small dirt path, Cassandra went into the training yard to bark at recruits on the way to the Commander's tent, and I went to the Chantry to check in with Leliana and Josephine. A soldier who was wearing different armor than all of the scouts stood there, looking rather lost. I supposed I was as good of a person to help as any, so I approached him.

His kind, searching eyes immediately caught mine, and he stepped towards me, bending his head respectfully.

"Excuse me. I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I'm having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me,” he explained politely, shifting his stance, the metal parts of his armor catching the sunlight as he moved.  

I stepped forward, adjusting my pack. 
“Who are you, soldier?” I asked plainly.  

“Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers.  Mercenary company.  We work mostly out of Orlais and Nevarra,” he answered.  

“What’s the message?”  I stepped a little closer, the sound of hammers hitting steel in the smithy making it harder to hear. 

He leaned in, as if he, too, was having similar difficulty, speaking louder.  

“We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge.  If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work,” he offered.  

My heart caught in my throat. Everything seemed to get a lot quieter, even the snowflakes that now started to fall in Haven seemed to slow in their descent. Tevinter mercenaries, on the storm coast?  Why?  And why would they think that the Inquisition would want information on Tevinter?  My brain started thinking of ridiculous and impossible scenarios, all of which would be at the epicenter and cause of.  Iron Bull… I knew that name.  It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.  I had somehow heard his name being thrown around before.  Anything I felt I swallowed and pushed down, throwing all of my emotions in a box and sealing it up tightly in my mind.  I asked the only question that would give me the information I was looking for.  

“Why did your commander send us this information?”  

“Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition.  He thinks you’re doing good work,” he answered simply.  I had to stop myself from narrowing my eyes.  Surely, there had to be another reason than that.  But there was no way in hells I wouldn’t meet him.  I put on a small smile, and stuck out my hand towards him. 

“I look forward to meeting this Iron Bull.”  

The soldier nodded, taking my hand firmly and shaking it. 

“We’re the best you’ll find.  Come to the Storm Coast and you can see us in action,” he said, turned around, and walked down the main path out of Haven.  A moment later, Josephine exited the Chantry doors, her eyes immediately finding mine before she realized I was watching something.  She walked towards me, bent forward slightly, and saw the soldier who I was just talking to walk down the steps near the merchant’s stalls.  

“Herald,” she greeted, still watching.  “Who was that?”  

I turned towards her, noticing her heavy fur coat.  She must really hate the cold.  

My brow arched inquisitively.  

“He didn’t come to see any of you inside the Chantry?  He said he was part of the Bull’s Chargers, interested in helping the Inquisition,” I answered, chewing my lip, turning my head back toward the gates.  

Josephine shook her head, her eyes becoming distant in thought. 

“No,” she replied. A few beats of silence passed between us before I heard her coat rustle. 
“Herald, go and rest.  You have not stopped moving since you awoke after the Conclave,” she insisted.  I looked over at her, her steel gray eyes were soft and kind.  I knew she was right.  If I didn’t sleep, I at least needed some kind of mental reprieve.  

A sigh escaped my lips. 
“I will if you do,” I offered weakly in return, to which she only smiled and shook her head.  Her hand touched my arm for a moment, a small wordless gesture of reassurance as she passed by me, walking towards the training grounds.  I decided that I would head back to the cabin again.  I knew that being there would help me feel far enough away from people that wanted my attention.  I took my book, and carefully stepped over the icy patches of earth that had started to form due to the chilly weather that permeated the mountains.  I cracked my book open, attempting to find where I had placed my bookmark, mindlessly opening the door.  A blast of warm air hit my face, and I looked up quickly, my eyes going wide.