Archive of Our Own ^beta

Assana made sure to dress and clean each nug thoroughly. She then scrubbed her hands with snow until her skin turned red and her fingers, numb. She pocketed her small dressing knife and hoisted the brace of nugs over her shoulder. Then she trudged back through the snow toward Haven.

She found Cullen still outside the gates, overseeing the soldiers training. The sun had gone down beyond the horizon – did this man ever take a break?

She dropped the heavy nugs like a sack of potatoes and blew a stray lock of hair from her forehead. No matter how tightly she braided it each day, some strands always escaped and got in the way.

“Good evening, Commander,” she said, breath misting in the frigid air as she straightened her back.

“Herald,” he replied, eyes immediately slipping toward the dead nug in her hand and narrowing warily. “I didn’t notice you head into the woods. I thought you might be resting, considering you’ll be leaving for the Hinterlands at dawn.”

“I can hardly waste daylight for that. I’d go out of shape.”

She then held out the nug without much fast. His eyes went wide.

“For your dinner. I’ve heard they go well with a hearty red.”

He took it, but his brows furrowed in something like… was that concern? His lips opened and closed twice without a single sound coming out. Assana wondered if she should call for Adan.

“Ah – thank you,” he managed at last. “That’s… generous.”

His reaction puzzled her. She was partial to roasted nug herself, but perhaps it was not a popular choice of meat in Ferelden? Even though he had mentioned having served in Kirkwall. Curious.

In any case, she did not let it discourage her and went on her way.

She found Cassandra hacking at the same training dummy as the days before.

“You've been at it all day, Cassandra,” Assana said, handing her the largest nug she’d caught. "You must be famished."

The Seeker wrinkled her nose as she took it. She did not seem thrilled.

“That was… thoughtful of you. Though I imagine a cook would have appreciated it more.”

“Nugs are easy to cook actually. You can skewer it and roast it over the fire. It won’t take long.”

“I will do my best not to burn it.”

Assana put on a smile and decided not to give up just yet. Surely Varric would appreciate a nug. She had read it was a delicacy in Orzammar.

“You know, most people would bring wine if they wanted me to like them,” Varric told her as he accepted the nug. Then his lips curled. “But hey, free dinner’s free dinner. Thanks.”

She didn’t quite know what to make of that. And then he mentioned he’d been born and raised in Kirkwall and it made sense that he didn’t consider nug a delicacy after all.

For all the books she devoured in her spare time, Assana realized she might be coming across as ignorant to these people. A savage. She scowled in distaste. No wonder Solas held the Dalish in such low regard.

She paused at the top of the stairs leading to the chantry.

Only three more nugs left. It would have been a pity to waste them.

“Oh, how… thoughtful!” Josephine blurted out, fidgeting in her chair. “I… I shall ensure our cooks make excellent use of this.”

She was smiling, but looked like a halla ready to bolt. Assana got the feeling that the one good impression she had finally made earlier in the day had somehow diminished just now.

Too late to quit. She trudged outside.

Leliana was in her tent, reading reports in flickering candlelight. She glanced up from her papers.

“Herald-”

She froze as she noticed the nug.

“What… Maker’s breath! You killed them?!”

Just as Assana was wondering if the Spymaster’s eyes could open any wider, they filled with tears too. Her heart sank.

Fenedhis, these people…

Not for the first time since she’d woken up in shackles, Assana felt like a fish out of water.

Born Dalish, raised as a hunter her whole life – her existence had revolved around feeding and protecting her clan. And books – but that had come later and had only served to estrange her from her peers.

Now, it seemed none of these things served her well enough.

She was no longer only a Dalish hunter, but the Herald of a figure she didn’t even believe in. Yet she was expected to act accordingly. It seemed it would take her longer to adjust than she had thought.

She felt lonelier than ever.

Her eyes drifted to the last nug. The one she was least eager to deliver. But she had come this far and some things were inevitable.

If Solas was surprised to find her standing on his doorstep, holding out a dead nug, he showed no sign of it.

The corners of his lips merely curled up stiffly as he took it.

“A practical gift. Many here would starve without your resourcefulness. Thank you.”

The jibe stung, but Assana had braced herself for it, in light of what she had said to him in the valley.

“It’s also a peace offering,” she said. Then she drew a deep breath. “Ir abelas, hahren. I shouldn’t have made that remark about you being allergic to halla. It was out of turn.”

He said nothing. Even his smirk faded. But the rest of his face eased into some strange expression that prompted her to continue.

“If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would like to make that right.”

After a few heartbeats, Solas sighed.

“You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never accomplish.”

Assana frowned at that, but before she could determine if this was just another barb, Solas softened his tone.

“Ir abelas… da’len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask. But for now, come in. Let us enjoy the fruit of your labor together.”

He disarmed her with a new kind of smile – warmer, softer. But it was really the promise of knowledge and company that prompted her to follow him inside.