The night in Haven was cold, but her bed in the chantry was still comfortable. Minaeve could see her books, her research desk, and the boxes containing the samples even while lying down. She didn't like to face the wall when she was trying to fall asleep and she was glad that she was alone. During the day ambassador Montilyet kept her company, working at her own desk, but for the night she retired to her own chamber. The ambassador was one of the few people in Haven she spoke with, but Minaeve was not keen to have her see how hard it was for her to fall asleep. She didn't know. Nobody was allowed to know the truth. Not even the tranquil knew, her own wards. She did not want anybody to know how she, a Dalish elf, wound up in a Circle tower and how it kept her up at night. When the Herald of Andraste once asked her, she told him what she told everyone who asked: her clan had her leave to reduce the number of mage, for safety's sake, and then a group of Templars rescued her from a small human village.
That was a half-truth at best. Templars did indeed find her in a small human village, close to starvation. They had rescued her from the superstitious townsfolk who wanted to kill her for being a mage. But unlike in her tale her clan did not abandon her, they did not fear having too many mages around. Her clan was dead. A group of mercenaries descended on her clan one night, no doubt seeking to hunt down poachers or something of similar pointlessness. She never learned their reason. Her clan was small and, while the fighting was fierce, they perished regardless, but she had managed to escape. The sound of the fighting she witnessed that night always came back to her when the sun was setting. The sound of swords breaking bows, blades clashing, leather bursting... The mere thought made her hairs stand up and sent shivers down her spine, turning the attempts to fall asleep a horrific ordeal for the elven woman.
She was glad that she did not have to expose this sad truth about her past to anyone. Nobody questioned her reasoning to having left her clan and thankfully there were no Dalish among the Inquisition who would know better. The tranquil whose company she preferred ever since her Circle days did not bother with such trivial things like the past. The Herald did not question her tale, neither did ambassador Montilyet nor alchemist Adan. Only that apostate Solas was of worry to her. He had asked her once about how she ended up in the service of the Inquisition and she had told him her tale. While he did not question it, she had the feeling that he had his doubts. He often looked at her with sad eyes when the two crossed paths ever since that conversation.
She reached for the glass of sun tea she kept near her bedside. The drink was recommended to her by Adan to help ease her night terrors. With a few gulps she had emptied the glass, shut her eyes again, and began to drift away...
This is the first fanfic I have written in ages and a bit of a fix-it-fic because while I love DA:I, the game has some story/lore-issues... And Minaeve's backstory is one of them. I hope you've enjoyed it.