I've been thinking about doing some stuff in Haven and this is the first story I've come up with. Not sure where it might go from here, but one step at a time! :) The idea here is that this is right as the Inquisition begins. I kind of imagined that my Inquisitor (human dual-wielding rogue named Cara if your a first time reader) would adjust to circumstances easily, but needed a bit of a kickstart, provided here by Cassandra. Hope you enjoy it!
Maker's breath! What had she been thinking? What had she gotten herself into? Cara Trevelyan, youngest daughter of a noble family in the Free Marcher city of Ostwick, was now being called the Herald of Andraste and proclaimed a heretic by the Chantry she thought she would spend her life serving! As if that wasn't bad enough, she was poised to help lead a group of other heretics in an effort to restore peace to Thedas! Maker, what had she done?
Taking a calming breath, Cara walked out of the council's meeting room and into the main hall of the Chantry. She hadn't realized when Cassandra and Leliana had asked her to help them that they had meant in such an active fashion. She hadn't even thought of it at the time; she just agreed without consideration. It had only been one day since then and this had been their first meeting with the advisors, but Cara was struggling not to panic. After thinking on it, she had suspected that she would be kept under lock and key, only brought out to use her mark when it was needed. Now here they all were telling her that she was seen as some kind of Herald and would be spreading word of the Inquisition herself!
Walking down the hall, Cara suddenly veered right through a door that led to the dungeon below. She remembered walking out of this door with Cassandra when this mess had started and being so confused she didn't know where to begin. Now here she was, right back where she had started, and no closer to understanding than she had been. Well, maybe a few of her questions had been answered, but more had sprung up almost immediately. She didn't know why she came down here, but she needed a chance to think and somehow this seemed appropriate, not to mention it was secluded.
She stood in the middle of the room where she had woken up three days prior and sighed heavily. Leaning back against one of the poles, she slid down to the floor, trying to ignore the awkward daggers she held on her back. All she could keep thinking was "why me" and "what am I supposed to do now". Cara had no idea how long she had been sitting there when she heard footsteps on the stairs down the hall. She thought about greeting them, then about hiding, but she didn't move either way. The steps grew closer, clearly heading her way rather than going to the small library this Chantry inexplicably had in their dungeon. Cara still didn't look up.
"Herald?" Cassandra's Nevarran accent was unmistakable. "What are you doing down here?" Cara didn't answer at first. When she did, she didn't look up from her study of the center of the floor, the little spot that had been her own prison for a few days.
"Honestly? I'm trying to figure out how I got here. I'm a nobody from Ostwick who had joined the Chantry and was apparently in the wrong place at the wrong time so people deem me a divine figure's herald." Showing more sympathy than Cara expected, Cassandra slid down the post opposite her looking like she was trying to comfort the Herald.
"Leliana checked into your background. I don't think a Trevelyan can be considered a nobody from Ostwick."
"I may have a noble name, but that's about it. I was promised to the Chantry as a child," Cara said bitterly. She suddenly realized she was being unkind to this woman who had shown faith in her when there had been little reason to and looked up at her. "I'm sorry. Everything is just moving so fast and I don't know what I'm doing."
"You did agree to help us," Cassandra reminded her.
"I know. And I'll stand by that, I swear. But I guess I didn't realize I would be such a prominent figure in the Inquisition. I half expected you all to lock me up until my mark was needed. And people calling me the "Herald of Andraste"? I don't even remember what happened. How can they take such a huge leap?"
"You still don't remember?" Cara shook her head. "Besides what you told Leliana and I, what is the last thing you can remember?" Cara fixed her gaze on the stone wall behind Cassandra trying to call up any memories she may still have.
"I remember arriving at the Convlave, but to be honest, everything after that is a blur. Like jumbled pieces of a story you weren't really paying attention to in the first place. The last thing I remember is walking up a flight of stairs, but I don't remember where I was going or what I was doing. If what we heard in the Temple of Sacred Ashes was true, I apparently was walking to or near the Divine's room." She had a feeling what they had heard was true, but she wasn't sure she wanted to believe it.
"That must be difficult, to remember so little."
"It is. I keep thinking that if I concentrate hard enough I'll remember, but I can't seem to even find anything to concentrate on. It almost feels like erasing writing on paper. And now I'm swept up in events that I feel woefully unprepared for. I was supposed to go to the Chantry! Maker's breath, I'm not a fighter or a leader or anything else. I can't help but think that if Andraste did pick me, she chose poorly. Or the people did, one." Cara resumed her study of the floor beside her.
"Feel better?" Cara couldn't help but smile a little bit.
"Actually, yes, I do." She looked back up to her companion. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that. We barely know each other…"
"It's alright, Herald. I hadn't considered the impact this must be having on you. For what it's worth, though, I don't know if Andraste saved you or not. All I know right now is that you tried to help the Divine, if the voices in the temple were real, and you have helped us all, even at great risk to your life. You may not be a trained fighter or leader, but you have survived two incidents in the last few days that should have killed you. Yet here you are." Cassandra stood, preparing to leave. "To me that says someone has been watching over you, for whatever reason. So I suppose that just leaves one question that needs answered before anything else: what are you going to do about it, Herald?" The Seeker turned down the hallway, leaving the question hanging in the air for Cara. Before she left, though, Cara stood.
"Seeker Pentaghast!" she called. Cassandra turned around. "Thank you. And please, call me Cara." She smiled, hoping it would ease some of the tension of their conversation. Cassandra smiled back at her, nodding in acceptance.
"And you may call me Cassandra." With that she walked down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell.
Cara remained in the dungeon for a while after Cassandra left. The Seeker's words kept ringing in her ears. While standing there in the center of the room, Cara came to a couple realizations. First, she had survived the impossible twice now and she had the only means of closing a hole in the sky, insane though that sounded. Perhaps that really did mean that someone was watching out for her. And if that was true, maybe she was here for a reason. And with that, she no longer minded being called the Herald of Andraste. Her second realization was that she definitely was unprepared for what lay before her. But she also wasn't alone. Some things others could do, but she was going to have to learn how to fight. She had managed with some rudimentary skills, but that wouldn't get her very far. And she was certain there were other things people here in Haven could teach her. With a sudden blush, she realized she would also need to learn to ride a horse, having never had the need at home.
She stood taller than she ever remembered when turning to leave the dungeon, walking with her head high in a way she had never dared at home. Mother Giselle would have to wait a few more days, but Cara had decided exactly what she was going to do about her situation. She wouldn't doubt herself, she would learn what she had to, and she would do what would need to be done. If someone had to spread word of a group trying to stand against chaos, it might as well be her!
Cassandra, of course, had had her own concerns since declaring the Inquisition reborn, but she ignored them for the moment. She had found Cara in the dungeon, of all places, and their talk had been enlightening. In her own doubts, she had never considered that Cara would be completely out of place and unsure in all of this. Perhaps she would voice her own concerns to the Herald later. She feared she had been too hard on this newcomer, but she recognized a soldier that needed a spark when she saw one. Cara may not be a soldier yet, but she would have to become one.
Returning to the camps outside the gates of Haven, Cassandra pushed her conversation with Cara and her own concerns out of her mind as she chose a practice dummy and drew her sword. Some time later, though she had lost track of time and didn't know how long she had been beating the dummy with her weapon, she saw Cara emerge from Haven's gate. The woman looked different. It was subtle, but there was a determination there that nearly made her eyes shine like green fire that hadn't been there before. Cara didn't say anything, but found a dummy lying on the ground, picked it up, and walked away with it over a hill. Curious, Cassandra sheathed her sword and followed her.
She found her a distance away where she was unlikely to be noticed. Her dummy was set up and she was drawing her daggers. About that time Cassandra heard footsteps behind her, quietly approaching her hiding spot. She turned to find Commander Cullen behind her, quizzical look on his face. Cassandra motioned for him to be quiet and approach low, which he did, taking a position beside the Seeker to watch the Herald.
Cara had been testing the weight of her daggers and the balance of them in her hands, in addition to the strength of her dummy. She poked the target several times gently, circling it like an inspection. She was diligent, Cassandra noted silently. Diligent and methodical. This woman was no mage, but she almost reminded Cassandra of some of the more research-oriented mages she had known. Glancing to the side she saw Cullen watching the woman with equal parts of confusion and interest. Cara then completed her examination and, seeming satisfied, started swinging her daggers more forcefully against the target. She clearly hadn't been exaggerating when she said she was no fighter, but at least she was trying.
The Herald began hitting the target harder and harder, her knuckles growing white around the hilts of her daggers. She started trying different ways to strike, rather than just the poking motion she had been doing. Then she started moving around the dummy, striking from different sides. When Cassandra could see her face, she looked almost angry like that one target was responsible for every bad thing in the world.
"Blighted mages," Cara said as she circled and attacked her foe. "Blighted Templars." Another attack. "Blighted Conclave!" She hit harder every time she named a new problem. "I'm no leader. I'm no fighter. So what do I do? Find myself a niche in the one place I need everything I was never prepared for." It wasn't pity or sorrow Cassandra heard in her voice, though it easily could have been. Beside her, Cullen watched the display with awe.
"Fine," Cara continued, "I'm the Herald of bloody Andraste! I'm a…a…fucking heretic!" The way she spat the word into the air, Cassandra had the sudden notion that Cara had never cursed like that before. "I'm the face of the only group of people with any sense still in their heads! I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know why this is happening, but damn it, someone has got to set the world right!" Her attacks and movements had rapidly sped up as she spoke and, surprisingly, became more useful, like her words were distracting her so she could act. "The Inquisition and its Herald will work if it's the last thing I do!" With her last word, she turned one final time and made a clean slice through the dummy's neck as if to emphasize her point.
Cara stood there panting for a moment, then slowly seemed to realize what she had done to the dummy. Every soldier remembered two things their entire career. One was, of course, the first time they killed a man. Second, however, is the first realization that if their practice dummy were a person, they would have killed him. Cassandra just witnessed their Herald's first of those two memories. Cara stood in shock for a moment, then sighed.
"I just pray Andraste chose wisely," Cara said before returning to her dummy. She made sure the head was solid before she made a move to strike again. She stopped before striking, though, and cocked her head to one side, studying her inanimate opponent. The Herald stepped away, returning her daggers to their sheaths, looking at the branches on a nearby tree. She tugged on a branch and it came away with a crack. Cassandra was utterly confused as to what the young woman thought she was going to do with a stick when she already had her weapons and a practice dummy. She looked to Cullen, who unhelpfully just shrugged his shoulders.
Returning to the dummy, Cara looked down the length of her branch, pulled out a dagger and trimmed it a bit. Then she picked up one of the discarded pieces and tied it across one end of the shortened branch with a piece of string she produced from a pocket. After a little trial and error, and some more string, Cassandra realized Cara was setting up makeshift sword so that she would have something to maneuver around. Methodical, determined and clever, Cassandra thought. Perhaps this will turn out for the best.
Cassandra decided to leave the Herald in peace after that, motioning for Cullen to follow. He took one last look at Cara with a great deal of respect in his gaze before following the Seeker back to camp. Cassandra briefly considered telling the Commander about her conversation with Cara, which she was pretty sure had prompted what they had just witnessed, but decided that it wasn't necessary. Cara had practically told them everything without ever meaning to.
"That woman has the makings of a great leader," Cullen observed when they were far enough away. "It's rare to find a combination of determination and adaptability like that. And they almost always make extraordinary leaders."
"It will be interesting to see what she does with it," Cassandra said. "We all had our doubts when we found her, but Cara Trevelyan just might save the world."
