A/N: It feels good to be posting something again! Anyway, with the release of Inquisition, I was able to muster up the will to write something nice and long again. I'm hoping to cover the entirety of Inquisition.
As far as Inquisitor, there's three: Aubrie Trevelyan, Ava Lavellan, and Seda Adaar. This first chapter is just a short little prologue to introduce all three of them, and hopefully give a bit of insight into them and their motives.
Ch. 2 will come very soon, and after that I should have chapters out once or twice a week. Thanks for reading!
One. Two. Three. Four.
Aubrie counted the skips in her head, watching the smooth stone glide over the water half a dozen times before sinking beneath the surface. It had been – what? 30 years? – since she'd last skipped rocks, just a young girl at her family's summer retreat in the mountains.
Then, there hadn't been any mages. No rebellions, no fighting to stay alive. Just Aubrie, her family, and an abundance of comforts.
Thumb gliding over the last stone, Aubrie scoffed and tossed it into the water, glaring as it sank with a satisfying plop. None of that mattered. She'd come out here to get away, to figure out her next plan. Getting caught up with the rebel mages hadn't been her first choice, and leading them certainly hadn't been either. But for whatever reason, the refugees from the Ostwick Circle had looked to her, and now the entire weight of the conclave rested on Aubrie's shoulders.
The mages claimed that Aubrie could convince the Chantry to reconsider their treatment of the mages, to fix the mess the rebellion had started. That wasn't what Aubrie wanted, though; Aubrie wanted to re-secure her position as senior enchanter, maybe negotiate a promotion to first enchanter, and go back to a status quo that left her in charge.
Wrapping her coat tighter around her, Aubrie trudged back up through the snow towards Haven. There were bound to still be bickering clerics and mothers right where she'd left them, but it wouldn't do her any good to stay away too long and arouse suspicion. Already, she had Templars shadowing her; she couldn't imagine the inconvenience of having them openly following her.
Of course, it wouldn't matter, unless she could come up with a convincing argument in the time it would take her to walk back to the temple.
Ava watched curiously as the Chantry clerics argued amongst themselves. She'd never taken much of an interest in the Chantry, but now that she was here, in the middle of one of the biggest gatherings of the Age, she couldn't help but eavesdrop.
Of course, that's what the Keeper had sent her to do.
These clerics weren't discussing anything important, though; the group nearest her was debating a possible interpretation of the Chant – a verse from something called Threnodies, apparently – and a group to her right was contemplating, in understandably hushed tones, the impact of allowing men to rise further in the Chantry.
The real negotiations had fallen apart a few hours earlier, after one of the Qunari bodyguards at the door had threatened to set a man on fire, and very nearly had. The Qunari had been immediately admonished – first for abandoning her post, then for the threat, and then a few concerned Chantry mothers had expressed their concern about a mage being allowed to run unchecked throughout such a sensitive meeting.
Ava laughed to herself, wondering if the Chantry officials knew just how many people were running unchecked. The rebel mages at the conclave were relatively few, but a large camp waited just a few miles away, tucked out of sight by the mountains and forest. The Qunari mage was there for reasons other than business, as well; although when Ava had spoken to her, she'd said nothing more than I'm personally invested in this conclave.
Then, off course, there was Ava. The Keeper had sent her because she could disappear, and disappear is exactly what Ava had done upon reaching Haven. She'd only been seen twice in the past week, and both times had claimed she was with a clan traveling near Haven and had only stopped by for a merchant. The shemlen were surprisingly eager to believe that the Dalish were hilariously unaware of world events.
Their opinions didn't matter, though; if some sort of agreement wasn't reached in the next few days, Ava would have to leave, at least long enough to send word back to the Keeper with an update.
Stifling a long groan, Ava settled back and prepared to sit through another several hours of pointless arguing.
"Imekari."
Seda nearly flinched; she didn't know much Qunlat, but that was a word she was familiar with.
Child. She was impatient, unthinking, acting out of place.
But she wouldn't give her captain – a Qunari who'd taken the name Rubin when he'd turned from the Qun – the satisfaction of knowing he'd hit a nerve. Threatening the cleric had been childish on Seda's part, and she knew it, but there was only so much humiliation she could take.
The whispering had been terrible, chantry men and women gossiping behind her back about her claws and her horns, mocking the sharpened gold tips she kept on her horns and the dull red vitaar that marked her face. Most mercenaries didn't give a rat's ass about appearances, but Seda was an exception; she wanted to look like a threat. It made people take her seriously, made them focus on her size or her claws rather than the herb pouch at her waist or the staff on her back.
The whispering had been bearable. The gaping, the slack-jawed stares that were openly directed at her – that was the worst. Seda wouldn't lose any sleep over the fact that she'd snapped.
"Say what you want," she grimaced. "It doesn't matter. I quit. You can have my share." With nothing more to say, Seda stormed past Rubin and out of the chantry, not certain where she was going but knowing she wanted to get away.
Seda made it to the edge of the lake before she noticed she was being followed. Fingers already bristling with magic, she turned back to the thin strip of forest between her and Haven. "What do you want?"
An elf – the same elf she'd spoken to briefly that morning – appeared out of the forest, a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. Giving an innocent whistle, she shrugged and offered, "I don't want anything. Except a bit of excitement, I suppose. You've been in there all week. You know how dull it is."
Not allowing the flames running along her fingers to dissipate, Seda demanded, "What's your name?"
"Ava. Of clan Lavellan. We're from up north, in the Free Marches. That's where your company is from, too, right?"
She gave no more than a non-committal grunt.
"I thought they did terrible, unspeakable things to mages under the Qun?" Ava took a few steps towards Seda, eyes alight with curiosity.
"They chain you," Seda growled, torn between needing some time alone and not minding the presence of Ava. "They take away your horns, your voice, any autonomy you have. You become a weapon. A living, breathing weapon. And you're expected to thank them for it." Crossing her arms, she peered down at Ava, who'd plopped down onto the snow. "I'm not part of the Qun. I never have been, and never will be."
Ava held up her hands defensively. "Fine by me. I'm not really Dalish." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Well, I am. My mother was, sort of, and my father was a Circle mage, but I… I was raised by my clan. It's complicated."
"If you say you are Dalish, then you are. You create your own identity, you aren't born into it."
"Well, I've got the vallaslin," Ava grinned, pointing to the thin blue markings on her face, "so no matter what I say, I'm stuck with the Dalish now."
Seda almost argued that Ava was missing her point, but decided to indulge her own curiosity instead. "Vallaslin," she echoed, the word foreign on her tongue. "Is it really… blood?"
"Is the paint on your face really poison?" Ava shot back playfully.
For the first time in far too long, Seda found herself smiling. "Do the Dalish really let deer determine where the go?"
"Halla," Ava corrected. "Do Qunari—"
Her next words were cut off by a deafening explosion.