Sadness and anger coursed like fire through Lia Lavellan's veins. She should be proud, overjoyed - they had just won the day, defeated Corypheus - Thedas was saved. Because of her. Because of the Inquisition. But her love was nowhere to be found. Solas had abandoned her. They had started this journey together, and she had wanted to end it with him standing proudly at her side. It did not matter that he had rejected her, thrown her away like a piece of trash. The feelings she had for him did not simply vanish.

He had left them in the aftermath of the battle - the last she saw of him was his slim profile kneeling with the broken foci in his hands, sorrow plastered onto his delicate elven features. "I'm so sorry, Solas. I know saving the foci meant a lot to you," Lia remembered herself saying to him. The sadness came off of him like waves of magic, and it was almost too much for her to bear. She couldn't let the man she had loved feel such despair.

"We defeated Corypheus. We're safe," Lia said as she walked slowly over to him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. He didn't move. She tried to drag him away, down to the impatiently waiting crowd of friends at the end of the stairs. He turned away and rose up to his feet, the shattered fragments of the orb glittering dangerously on the ground.

"Whatever happens, Lia, know that what we had was real," he said softly.

Lia raised an eyebrow at him and turned away. How dare he, after what he did to my heart? He has no right to make me feel this way. He wanted to remove my vallaslin… if I had said yes, would I still be able to hold him in my arms? Would he still be here? Mythal, save me…

But now, two days after the battle, there was still no sign of him. Josephine had been organizing a banquet in recognition of their victory; the poor woman was frantic over the smallest things.

Being alive is enough for me. I don't give a shit about tiny cakes, Lia thought with a small frown. Every noble in Thedas would be at Skyhold's doorstep trying to lick the Inquisitor's boots, garner favors, or just have some of the Inquisition's victory rub off on them; Lia could only take so much political bullshit in one sitting. She had hoped to have Solas by her side as an anchor during the chaotic festivities, even if it was just as a comrade in arms.

Lia had recently submitted to her growing fears. She had Leliana, the Inquisition's spymaster, trying to track down Solas without success. Her best spies had been sent out, but the elf had completely vanished. Most of the troops assumed he was dead. Solas was inconsequential to the masses; just another dead knife-ear. Lia was fully prepared to commit a sizable chunk of the Inquisition's resources to finding him, but Leliana had eyes and ears everywhere; she wasn't called the Nightingale of the Imperial Court for nothing. There was no use in committing any more men; if there was information to be found, Leliana would get it first, and Lia would hear of it within seconds.

It was times like this that Lia sought shelter on the battlements, and took time to think and loosen the tight grip that always held her worries in the foreground of her thoughts. She was always alone up here, save for the occasional guard patrol. Her distress was already severe enough, and she didn't want to be in the middle of the fortress where a hundred things would happen around her all at once, rendering her unable to think. There were often days when Skyhold was bustling with activity and there was a certain energy carried in the air, like tendrils wrapping around people's minds and pulling them to various tasks - cleaning the kitchens, helping with the horses, anything to get them off of their feet and feeling useful. No one was still.

Lia used to be able to run off into the forest, away from camp and everything that was troubling her. As the Inquisitor, she no longer had that luxury, and the only thing that had been keeping her from breaking was Solas. But he had abandoned her without a second thought, precisely when she needed him most.

Before she was the Inquisitor, she was just a huntress for her clan. The best huntress by far, but just a huntress. There was nothing special about her, or her life. She was normal. Then Keeper Deshanna sent her to the Conclave, a gathering of the rebel mages and templars held by Divine Justinia V, as a spy. The goal of the gathering was to negotiate some semblance of peace between the templars and mages.

Lia often looked back at the events that led her to this accursed position as "The Herald of Andraste." She despised the title.

The shems must have gone completely mad; there was no other explanation for them giving a Dalish elf, a knife ear, such high praise... Creators, how did I get myself into this horrible mess?

~*~

It was many months before, and Lia had just returned from a hunt. Whenever her clan moved camps, she loved exploring with only the trees and various wild creatures for company. She loved the quiet, the serenity that seemed to permeate through everything in a constant flow of peaceful energy. She'd spend most of her days in the forests, and would always come back with a kill so she could warrant her wanderings.

She had been gone since dawn, and had returned to the camp by nightfall when a fellow hunter named Ioros had flagged her down. He ran over to her, out of breath and hair disheveled. Lia looked at him and raised an eyebrow, letting a slightly quizzical look overtake her features. Her eyes moved up and down his person, searching for injury. "What in Andruil's name has gotten into you? Please tell me you didn't fall out of an aravel again," Lia snapped as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"There was…" he began, and Lia watched his features tense as he tried to search for the correct words. She crossed her arms, looking at the other elf with impatience glittering in her eyes.

"There was a large group of shems northeast of camp, not far. Bandits or not, they could pose a danger to the children if we aren't careful. They seem to follow your example of frolicking through the forests," he finally said with a small smirk. Lia nodded curtly, and started walking away. "I will tell the Keeper, Ioros," she said as she threw a playful glare at him over her shoulder.

"Lia! Wait a second," she heard Ioros call after her. He was behind her in seconds, grabbing her forearm and pulling her into a tight hug.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, returning the gesture.

After a much needed moment of peace and silence, Ioros pulled away and asked, "If you would prefer that I tell Keeper Deshanna instead, I'll swap guard shifts with you," he said with a reassuring smile.

Lia looked up at him and returned the smile. "Thank you for offering, but I have to deal with her eventually," she said as she placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

Ioros gave her a small smile. "If you insist on being as stubborn as a juvenile halla, then I am at least going to accompany you," he said with a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder. Lia narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. Ioros meant well, but she felt as if he babied her. They were extremely close, and he took care of her as much as she would allow. But sometimes it seemed as if she was nothing more than a delicate flower to him.

It will do no good to try and convince him otherwise, Lia thought as she groaned internally. She sighed and let her arms fall to her sides, and motioned for him to follow.

The pair walked side by side through the camp, weaving through the labyrinth of aravels. They didn't move as often as other clans, but when they did, it was hard for both Lia and Ioros to get their bearings. "Maybe we should make maps of the camp like we did as children," Lia said with a smile.

He flashed a beaming smile and clapped his hands with mock excitement. "Yes, and perhaps we will once again draw vulgar illustrations of the Creators on them and earn the wrath of hahren Velorian."

Lia rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder playfully as she responded, "Yes, because that ended very well for us… I doubt he'll ever see another illustration of Andruil that resembles yours," she giggled as they approached the Keeper's aravel.

Taking a moment to center herself and lock up her anger, Lia and Ioros walked around the corner of Keeper Deshanna's large aravel. Lia hesitated behind the corner, chewing on her lip.

Sensing that Lia wasn't going to move anytime soon without encouragement, Ioros took the lead and walked over to the older elf, sitting across from her and motioning for Lia to follow. Keeper Deshanna had hair as black as a raven's feather, and eyes as silver as the stars in the sky.

Lia bowed her head respectfully to Deshanna, forcing herself to grit out the words, "Hello, mamae," as their eyes locked in a silent battle for dominance. They were always sociable to each other on the outside, having the appearance of a regular mother-daughter relationship. One need only look a little closer to see the tension and restrained anger and disgust in each movement the two women directed at each other.

Ioros, as if noticing the hard to miss tension, coughed and began, "Keeper, there is a large group of shems not far from the camp. I thought it wise to inform you, in case the children decide to go frolicking off into the forests," he said with a bright smile. Deshanna returned the smile and inclined her head, gesturing for him to leave. "Thank you, da'len. Your information is appreciated," she paused briefly and looked over at Lia. "I must ask you to depart; I have matters to discuss with my daughter. Alone."

Lia shot a slightly panicked look at Ioros. Shit. This won't end well.

Ioros sighed and replied, "As you wish, Keeper," and walked around the corner of the aravel. Lia knew he would stay at arm's length, in case the need arose for him to intervene, which it often did. The arguments Lia had with her mother could shake the very fabric of the Fade itself.

Lia watched Ioros go, and turned back to Deshanna, only to be met with an unnerving stare. Deshanna slowly began, "Andaran'atishan, emm'asha. I do not wish to fight with you, not today."

"That's how all of our conversations begin, mamae. What is it that you want from me this time," Lia asked in a neutral tone, crossing her ankles and absently tracing a finger over the deep, purple vallaslin that carved a graceful path down her forearm.

"You know of the Conclave, da'len. It is going to affect everyone. All of Thedas will be changed with the outcome of these negotiations," Deshanna replied carefully.

Lia's neutral stare had slowly turned into a fiery glare as she realized what was about to be asked of her. She gritted her teeth and finally asked, "And why are you choosing me for this fool's errand, mamae? Why must I interact with filthy shemlen?"

Deshanna sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Because, you are the best spy we have. The other hunters hate humans, and those who do not are clumsier than a druffalo in an antique parlour," Deshanna said irritably.

It was a very true statement, but Lia wouldn't budge. "What, and I don't hate them? They're worthless. They destroy everything they touch. They killed Father," Lia hissed with anger flashing in her eyes. She got up and paced back and forth, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. "What am I supposed to do? Just stand and look like a well behaved, knife-eared servant?" Lia yelled, with enough force and bravado that half of the clan probably heard it.

Deshanna's first response was a delicately raised eyebrow and a rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the wooden table between them. After a decidedly uncomfortable moment of silence, Deshanna finally gritted her teeth and said, "You are not the only one who lost him, Lia. I understand your hatred of the shemlen; I understand more than anyone here, but I was not asking you to serve them or befriend them. I was asking you to spy, and gather information. Stick to the background, and observe. Now, I'm telling you. I am your Keeper first and your mother second, and you will follow my orders accordingly. This discussion is over."

Fury was coursing through Lia's veins like molten fire. She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her mother, their faces inches apart. "If you think you can order me, mamae, you are sorely mistaken. In order for me to follow your orders, I would have to hold some semblance of respect for you. You lost your right to respect after you left Father alone in a pool of his own blood, dying and begging for someone to end his misery," Lia hissed as she bared her teeth.

"There were only three shemlen, mamae. And you dragged me away and left Father alone, instead of fighting for him as a real mother and wife would have. You're a spineless coward. If you want the Conclave spied on, you can do it yourself. I'm not your puppet," Lia said. She was yelling loud enough to make the forests tremble, despite her efforts to remain somewhat calm. It's about time the clan knew her dirty secret.

Lia gathered her long, light brown hair into a bun and slung her bow over her shoulder. She stared at her mother with unwavering eyes and crossed her arms. Deshanna stood up swiftly and closed in on her daughter. "You're only a child. You cannot fathom the burden that it is to lead. Your feelings do not change what has to be done. I am your Keeper, and you will do as I have asked. An order has been given to you, and you will not return to me until it is completed," Deshanna snapped.

Lia gritted her teeth and let out a breath through her nose. One moment she was advancing rapidly towards her mother, arm drawn back and ready to punch; the next thing she knew, Ioros was behind her, restraining her. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back as she struggled to get free.

After a moment of pointless struggle, she finally let her hands fall to her sides. Her posture relaxed slightly, and Ioros loosened his grip. Lia let out a breath once again and said in a disturbingly calm tone, "Ma emma harel, mamae. There are no emotions stronger than hatred and anger fueled by loss." Lia turned the corner of the aravel, and proceeded to walk the border of the camp. Ioros followed her, a worried look pointed in her direction. "Please, Ioros. I just need a little while to myself, then I'll be back," she said.

"With shemlen about? No, there is no way that I'm letting you leave this camp alone," he said with a stubborn glare. Lia raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, fury flooding her thoughts once again. "You don't have to 'let me' do anything, Ioros. I am not a mindless pawn. I am going hunting, and I will return with my prize by dawn," she stated with a grim stare.

Lia turned around quickly on her heel and passed the border of the camp, quickly weaving into the forest and around the trees, swift and graceful. Catlike. She was no longer simply herself, she was a predator.

She found her prey quickly, clustered together. There were very few; she had been expecting a large group, from what Ioros had said. If she pounced too quickly, they would scatter like frightened rabbits. Lia found higher ground that overlooked the group, giving her a bird's eye view of every movement.

These shemlen are well armed; they are not mere travellers, Lia thought as she saw the telltale glint of weapons. Swords, hatchets, spears, flails, bows, and a few others she could not identify.

Lia smiled as a lone scout broke off from the group, and slowly drew her bow. Fools. Do they not know Dalish reside in these forests?

As she was about to let her arrow fly, she spotted something peculiar. A young girl, with pointed ears and big, round eyes. She appeared to be no more than sixteen, at the most. She doesn't have vallaslin… is she a city elf? Did they take her from another clan?

Lia's heart started beating faster as she looked the girl up and down. From this distance, she could barely make out the intricate pattern of cuts and bruises that were scattered over her diminutive form.

Lia felt bile rise up into her throat, and she gritted her teeth. These men had beaten this defenseless girl into submission. Who knows what else they had done to her. And all of it was probably done for the simple fact that she was an elf. I have to get her out. I can't leave her here. I won't be like my mother.

Lia moved her sight to the lone scout once more, taking a breath and letting the arrow fly. She lived for the moment when her prey realized it was helpless, and when the fear materialized into its wide eyes, before burning out as life seeped away.

She smiled at her handiwork and observed the camp. No one even noticed… and a perfect headshot, too. Father would be proud. She smirked and looked for a perch that was closer to the camp. She could not pick them off from this distance without risk of harming the girl.

She put her bow over her shoulder and drew her daggers, prowling towards the cluster of shemlen. A footstep caught her attention, and she turned around, only to be met with a dagger inches away from her face.

"Ar tu na'lin emma mi," she hissed as she looked her attacker in the eye, and a murderous gleam looked back at her. Lia gave him a wide smile and bared her teeth, sidestepping and evading effortlessly, blending into shadow. The human followed her lead, both predators poising to strike.

She saw movement in a cluster of thorns, and revealed herself. Turning, he blocked her daggers with his own. Metal clashed against metal, and their blades gleamed brightly in the moonlight.

Lia started falling into the rhythm of combat once more; it had been ages since she had fought a real opponent. He struck, she dodged. Back and forth, they danced. His daggers slicing her face, a strike to the knee. A fatal blow evaded by her lithe form, her daggers slashing against his back. There was little room to move in the small clearing, but her human foe was unaccustomed to the ways of the forest. I can use this to my advantage, I hope...

One, two, three.

They circled each other, and suddenly he dove to strike. A silverite blade against her neck. A kick to his groin, and a quick leap to the side. She rolled behind him, and stabbed under his shoulderblade. She smirked as he screamed in agony.

One.

They continued to dance, equally matched. Both were predators determined to catch their prey.

One, two, three.

She felt a dagger slice into her leg, and adrenaline was flowing through her veins like a rushing river. Time seemed to slow, and a silverite blade grazed her neck once more. She rolled back, and melted into shadow. He was met with rapid, poisoned strikes to his sides.

Two.

Retreating into a defensive position, he left a trail of crimson in his wake. She pursued her prey and grinned. The look of death in his eyes distracted her, the look of defeat that she lived for.

One, two, th-

She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. Her blood dripped to the ground as she wavered briefly. She spun and kicked his dagger out of his hand. He quickly turned to retrieve it and she pinned him against a tree, blade against his neck.

Eye to eye once more, the murderous gleam had not faded. She leaned closer and whispered, "Ma halam." In response, he laughed in her face. "Worthless knife-ear. You and the rest of the savages that you call a clan will be dead by dawn," he growled.

Three.

The blade sliced across his neck, and the life faded from his eyes as a wicked gleam overtook her own. She sheathed her daggers and continued towards the camp. He knew that I was here. How? Something's wrong. I need to get this girl out as quickly as possible and warn the clan.