Foreword

The Winter Palace

Lavellan-

It should have been her.

All of this was for her. The dancing, the dresses, the tiny cakes. She would have loved it all. I could see her when I closed my eyes, could almost feel the heat of her magic coursing through me. But never quite, because magic was hers. She was so good, so powerful. The Keeper said she hadn't seen such talent in all her years. I could see the lines on her face, the marks of Dirthamen. Her eyes were like mine, amber and strange, and her face was just as thin, with the same upturned nose. Her hair was different, though- it lay flat where mine was always in thick curls, and it grew so fast I accused her of using magic to make it longer more than once.

She would speak so openly with humans, and seemed genuinely interested in their stories. She'd vanish some nights, but come back before we could figure out where she'd gone. I always knew, though. Sometimes she'd forget to remove a bobby pin, or have alcohol on her breath.

"Please don't tell the Keeper!" She begged me one night after I noticed a mark of lipstick on her neck. I made her promise me something stupid, I always did. Do some inane chore, tell one of the boys I was worth their time, whatever. She was so good with everyone, so charming and easygoing and soft with every word.

I resented her for it. She couldn't have both worlds -it wasn't allowed. She couldn't be funny and powerful and social and beautiful. Our own mother once asked how it was that Ellian got everything. At least I could string a bow.

But she was gone. And I was here, in this place where she should be, with the mark that she should have, all because of a stupid argument. Because I was jealous.

"Inquisitor?" I turned, drawn from my daydreaming. "Darling, you are doing so well, but you must remember to smile!" Vivienne rested a hand on my shoulder, and I blinked to make the pictures go away.

"Of course," I did as she told me.

"Not like that. Oh, Lavellan, pretend you mean it. Good! Perfect." She smiled and offered me a glass of something. "Have you seen our dear Seeker? Leliana said someone ought to keep an eye on her, but it seems she's avoiding the party entirely."

"I think she's outside, by the front entrance."

Vivienne gave my shoulder the slightest squeeze. "Thank you, my dear. And Lavellan?" I hadn't realized until then that I wasn't making eye contact. "I know it hurts. But you are owning this night. Stay focused, darling."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right, of course. It's just- it's nothing. I have to focus." I downed the glass in one shot, then coughed as it burned down my throat. "Fenedhis- what is that?"

She chuckled. "Not something you should chug, my dear. Now go, I think the Duchess would like to speak with you."

Reeling a bit from the alcohol, I looked up to see the Grand Duchess was indeed looking in my direction. "Well, let's put your training to the test."

"You'll do wonderfully, I'm sure," Vivienne replied with a smirk.

I smiled toward the Duchess, and made my way toward her.

-excerpt from the Journal of Yvelle Lavellan

The Temple of Sacred Ashes

Varric-

I wasn't sure whether we'd met a woman or a wild animal after the explosion at the conclave. First I see Cassandra, all frustrated grunts and heavy breathing, covered in dirt but thankfully not blood. Behind her is this twig of an elf girl, darker-skinned than most elves I've met, with dark vein-y face tattoos and wild red hair. Her eyes were this amber color, piercing, angry, but also confused. Her clothes, tattered and ill-fitting, made her look even more out-of-place.

She stood back and fired arrows at the demons, showing surprising restraint and excellent technique with every shot. They might not be big on indoor plumbing, but the Dalish don't skimp on the archery.

Then Solas grabs her by the arm and boom! Just like that, the rift is closed. She looks as surprised as anyone else, but we barely have time for introductions. Her name is Yvelle. She's Dalish. She's looking for her sister. We pressed on, with Solas questioning her about being Dalish, and she responding with little more than grunts and vague threats. But still, I was admittedly intrigued -it felt like something important was happening, even if what exactly that something was hadn't been made clear.

We got to the bridge and as soon as she had a chance to speak the wild wolf girl asked where her sister was. For a moment Leliana was confused, but she must have realized something because her voice suddenly turned gentle and kind. "You mean Lady Ellian. We have not seen her since before the explosion. It is… unlikely she survived. My condolences." I know, I didn't understand it either. But Yvelle, for the first time, visibly softened.

"You… you're sure?"

"Well… not completely, but I would not hold out hope." The exchange seemed to change Cassandra's tune, but before she could say anything Yvelle turned on her with fire in her eyes.

"You still think I did this? Killed my own sister?" It was like she was physically bristling- I swear her hair actually stood on end. She mumbled something Dalish that sounded vulgar and shook her head, the mark flickering on her hand.

-excerpt from The Official Story of Inquisitor Lavellan, as Told by Those Closest to Her by Varric Tethras

The pathway wound down into what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cassandra explained that this was where we'd found Yvelle, where she walked out of the Fade. It was obvious Yvelle had no memory of this -she seemed confused when we said there was a woman behind her, and even asked how it could be that she walked out of the Fade.

"That is where you dream. How do you walk out of it?"

Cassandra watched her warily as she tread among the burning corpses, eyes drawn to their faces. "That's what we would like to know. But if you truly don't remember, then I suppose there is no answer yet."

I remember how Yvelle wrapped her arms around her stomach, clutched at the loose jacket she wore. The cold wind blew her hair from her face, and she shook her head slowly. "So much death… and so pointless." A few sparks flew her way and she raised her arm to shield herself. "But I do not see her here."

"Your sister?" Cassandra asked, still sounding confused.

Yvelle nodded and looked at the Seeker. "Ellian. She liked you shems, though I'll never understand why. She wanted to go to your Conclave, said it was important. I only went to protect her in case something went wrong." She sighed heavily, like there was a great weight on her chest that she struggled to lift. "This is more than what a few arrows can solve."

Panicked shouting from inside drew her back to us, and we followed her into the Temple. Green light filtered down from the breach and set everything in a sickly glow. As Leliana and Cassandra spoke, Yvelle stared up at the Breach, her wide amber eyes tinged with green. "That is a long way up…" I said, following her gaze.

I thought I heard her breath catch in her throat. "Yes… yes it is."

Cassandra turned to her then, pulled her attention away from the sky. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"I'll try, but I don't know if I can reach that, much less close it."

"No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the breach." Solas hadn't said much to her since we met. Given what we now know about him, I can't help but wonder what he was thinking at this point. Likely some combination of "I really screwed this shit up" and "I can't decide whether she's pretty, terrifying, or both." I'd lean more towards terrifying, personally, but that's just me.

As we approached the rift we heard voices echoing from the Fade. Eventually we'd know it was Corypheus speaking, but at the time we only recognized Divine Justinia. On the way down we found our first glimpse of red lyrium -evil shit, corrupts you. I'd already had more than my fair share of experience with it by that point, and just seeing it again made my stomach churn.

Then, within the echos, we heard another voice. Yvelle, clear but shaky, spoke up through the chaos. "What's going on here?" Images flashes against the rift: a glowing darkspawn magister, the Divine herself, and the shadow of a red-haired elf-girl with a bow strapped to her back.

Corypheus spoke again, in that deep, unsettling voice: "Slay the elf."

-excerpt from The Official Story of Inquisitor Lavellan, as Told by Those Closest to Her by Varric Tethras

Haven

Leliana-

The Herald was asleep for a full fourteen hours after closing the rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I was told she was an elf, and an archer, and probably very hungry considering she likely hadn't eaten since well before the explosion. Lady Josephine and I set about finding her something, anything, that would help make her more comfortable in Haven. We put out a request to the people: "If anyone has any clothes or food they can spare for the Herald, who is a small elven woman, please bring them to Sister Leliana or Josephine Montilyet in the chantry."

Even when they had so little, when their world was in turmoil and they were mourning the loss of the Divine, if not their own friends and family, the faithful gave what they could. Women brought scarves and socks and what little other clothing they could spare, and a tearful Sister even lent a pair of shoes she said were all that remained of her dearest friend. The men lent jackets, gloves, even a bow ("So she can hunt when she wakes up," he'd said gruffly as he shifted his weight and wrung his hands. "Those elves like hunting, right?").

The most surprising gift came from an elderly woman, one not affiliated with the Chantry. She said she'd lived in Haven her whole life, and had met a small elf woman before, a Grey Warden, who would go on to save the world from a Blight. She looked down at the bundle of clothes in her arms, then back up at me, her eyes pleading. "I was not kind to her. I called her cruel things, because I'd been taught by cruel people. I prayed she might come back, so that I could apologize, so I could give her something to show how grateful I am for everything she's done for us. But this… is a sign. I made these things for her in the hope that one day she could claim them, but the Herald needs them more. Even if she does not wear them, please tell her they come from the faithful."

I smiled and graciously took her gift. It was a grey-beige jumpsuit, with metal clasps and glittering decorations all over. Not the most fashionable, but it certainly looked comfortable and there was obvious effort in every stitch. I had one of the Sisters deliver it to the Herald as she slept.

It wasn't for another few hours that she finally stumbled from the cabin we'd housed her in, one arm held up to shield her from the sun. I do not know how she'd managed to find it in such a short time, but apparently someone had left an old Avvar outfit in a chest. She was wearing this hideous lump of furs that made her look about four times larger than she actually was, and still she shivered. When I finally met her, the first thing she said was an elvhen curse, and then: "I am still a suspect? Even with all those shems bowing to me outside? Do you at least have something to eat in here?"

Josephine called her "a project."

-excerpt from The Official Story of Inquisitor Lavellan, as Told by Those Closest to Her by Sister Leliana