STARRING:
Our Reluctant Female Qunari Inquisitor Who Happens to be a Mage: Herah Adaar
Her Lover, Much to the Horror of Literally Everyone Else: Sera (Part-time beekeeper, full-time Vivienne hater)
The Ever-More-Exasperated Seeker: Cassandra 'Disgusted Noise' Pentaghast
The Shadow Lurking in Every Dark Corner: Leliana, Spymaster Extraordinaire and Passionate Nug Enthusiast
The Templar, The Leader of Men, The…Awkward Fumbling Mess That Is: Cullen Rutherford
A Rustle of Extravagant Golden Sleeves and a Precious Cinnamon Roll: Josephine Montilyet
A Drifter, A Loner, An Apostate and Fashion Disaster: Solas (The Egg)
Writer of Seedy Stories and Envy of Every Smooth Chest: Varric Tethras
The Crusher of Dragon Skulls with Nothing but His Pillowy Man Bosoms: Iron Bull
An Enchanter Who Can Roast Ten Nobles in One Dignified Breath: Vivienne Madame de Fer, Official Mage to the Imperial Court
A Stoic Heart Rivalled in Stature by Only His Own Glorious Beard: Blackwall
Witty Banter and a Magnificent Moustache (The Dream Combo): Dorian Pavus
Search Underneath the Hat and You Will Find a Son and Friend: Cole
CHAPTER ONE. HOME SWEET HOME
It had taken days to get to Skyhold. Days trekking through snow drifts and across perilous peaks. Whilst Solas had seemed to embody all the grace and elegance of some kind of mountain halla (or perhaps some sort of snowy wolf, Herah couldn't quite make her mind up), the rest of the survivors from Haven had not been physically or mentally prepared for what had transpired to be a full-blown mountain expedition.
"Is there really…nowhere more accessible, Solas?" Herah had wheezed at one particularly difficult moment after Josephine had almost been lost down a ravine, "Somewhere… more sensible to base our operations?"
"Adaar," Solas had begun solemnly, as though explaining something very simple to a notoriously dim-witted child, "when we reach our destination all will become clear. The location is perfect for travelling between Orlais and Ferelden. Not to mention, it is steeped in history-"
It was at this juncture that Herah had hurriedly stopped paying attention to the elf and begun jogging away as best she could across the snow-covered ground. It was one thing having to hike through an entire mountain range unprepared, but it was quite another having to do so with a bald mage banging on about spirits, the Fade and ancient elven history as though his life depended on it.
"Tarasyl'an Te'las," Solas declared proudly, gazing around the dilapidated throne room, "the place where the sky is kept, or, more specifically, the place where the sky was held back."
"Ugh, make him stop!" Sera whined, scrabbling at her ears as though in physical pain, "He keeps saying words but they don't mean anything!"
"It is ancient elvish, as you well know Sera, and I even provided two translations to better explain the meaning-"
"Heraaahhhh!" Sera pleaded, now clawing at the qunari's leather coat in desperation.
Herah Adaar gave a long-suffering sigh and a slow blink of the eyes. She was already deeply regretting her decision to scrabble out of the ruins of Haven. She could have just accepted her fate, closed her eyes, kicked back in the snow and welcomed the sweet, sweet embrace of death. Instead, here she was surrounded by rubble in a ruined fortress which had taken days to trek to, not to mention the loss of several people's fingers to frostbite.
"Solas," Herah began slowly and with no small amount of annoyance, "why have you brought us to a crumbling old fortress in the middle of nowhere?"
Solas had never been so personally offended in all his life. "Crumbling old fortress - ?!" He spluttered, "Skyhold is a masterpiece of architecture, a place built on a site where ancient elven rituals took place-"
"He's doing it again!" Sera complained, tugging at Herah's sleeves.
"Skyhold has stood here for generations -!" Solas retorted heatedly.
"Stood is a generous term, Solas dear," Vivienne's velvety voice cut in. She was glancing around the throne room with thinly veiled distaste. "Desperately clung onto the mountainside might be a more accurate description."
"I'm going to unpack my things," Solas huffed unhappily, marching down the hall and towards an empty doorway (the door, of which, had long since fallen off its hinges).
"Oh yeah, like what?" Sera called after him, "All you have is some boring book on how spirits take a shite!"
"It's got nothing to do with that!" Solas snapped back, "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand the subtleties of the transformation of waste matter in the Fade-"
"So it is about shit?" Iron Bull's voice boomed out heartily. It was of little comfort to Solas.
"I refuse to speak on this matter any further," Solas said, giving a brief bow of the head to Herah before disappearing into the atrium.
"Ah, ain't that nice," Iron Bull commented, "I think we're all 'gonna get along just fine."
From beside Vivienne, Cassandra Pentaghast gave her most exasperated "Ugh!" to date.
Herah Adaar was concerned. This was, of course, for many reasons, including the overall sense of impending doom and disaster that had permeated everything since the explosion at the Conclave. It was also, however, because she had just spotted a desk in her quarters.
"Why do I need a desk? I don't…I don't have to do…paperwork, do I?" Herah asked, whirling around to face Cassandra, who was heaving a large crate of Elfroot across the room.
Why exactly Herah went out of her way to collect so much Elfroot was utterly beyond Cassandra, especially when it regularly included putting herself in gravely dangerous situations (Cassandra would never forget the time Herah charged brazenly towards a Fade Rift, only to ignore all demons flooding her way and focus instead on gently prizing a delicate Elfroot out of the ground). However, it was not up to Cassandra to beat such a habit out of the Herald (as much as she'd like to), and so here she found herself: helping Herah drag the entirety of her Elfroot stock into her quarters.
"Well," Cassandra huffed in answer to Herah's question, "as an important figure of our Inquisition, you will be required to sign papers from time to time I should imagine." She gave the current crate of Elfroot one last shunt across the floor before seating herself on it, wiping the sweat from her brow. After a moment or two of no reply from the Herald, she glanced up to see Herah staring wistfully at the balcony.
"No jumping," Cassandra ordered with a wry smile, "Paperwork may not be as exciting as fighting demons but it is no less important."
"I haven't got a signature," Herah suddenly said, turning her head to stare at Cassandra seriously.
"I…what do you mean?"
"I've never had to sign anything before."
"But…you were a mercenary of some repute, were you not?" Cassandra asked, thoroughly bewildered, "Surely you must have signed contracts and the like?"
Herah could only offer a set of huge, fearful eyes and a solemn shake of her horned head.
This was absurd. This was unheard of. This was the same woman who survived a jaunt in the Fade, who faced Corypheus and a mountain slide head on and lived to tell the tale. She was the Herald of Andraste and here she was looking more terrified than Cassandra had ever seen her at the simple prospect of signing some paperwork.
Cassandra Pentaghast was more than a little flustered. "I….you…well it will be a necessity if we are to move forward with our operations. You will have to practice." Here, the Seeker rose to her feet and plucked a quill from the Herald's desk, offering it to the qunari with a look she hoped was encouraging. "Here."
Unfortunately, Herah did not find the look Cassandra gave her encouraging. Instead, it seemed to symbolise a world-sized level of commitment and responsibility which she'd never asked for and, quite frankly, didn't want.
"I understand your…point of view on this matter, Cassandra, and it's…appreciated," Herah replied tactfully, eyeing the quill with a disproportionate amount of distrust, "However, I have just had a vision from Andraste."
Cassandra looked at Herah.
Herah looked at Cassandra.
"…Please do not blaspheme, if it is indeed your intention to do so-" Cassandra began.
"Andraste was quite clear that I should avoid paperwork at all costs," Herah continued, with an air of confidence that was quite misplaced given the fact it was such a bold-faced lie, "Now, I've never claimed to be Andraste's Chosen but since you were so adamant about such a concept yourself, I feel it would be prudent to take heed of such a vision and-"
"How dare you use Andraste's name to try and shirk your responsibilities!" Cassandra interrupted hot-headedly, "I understand all of this is new to you and you may require some time to…adjust, but we all have to…it is expected of the Herald to…you can't just pick and choose what you wish to do!"
Tragically for Cassandra and her inherently pious nature, Herah was already making a hurried exit towards the stairs.
"I can't control or explain the way Andraste works, I can only voice her messages!" Herah called over her shoulder, "I am but a vessel, a mouthpiece-"
"ADAAR, COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!" Cassandra demanded.
"I MUST GO, CASSANDRA," Herah replied as her horns disappeared from view, "ANDRASTE GUIDES ME TO THE TAVERN!"
"You know, I've always hated paperwork," Varric said thoughtfully, reminiscing over his illustrious career as he set another tankard of ale down before his drinking companions, "Writing stories can be difficult enough, but putting quill to parchment for some boring reply to a publisher? That's a real tragedy."
Herah gave a pitiful, all-suffering sob in reply and began drowning her sorrows immediately.
Dorian watched the display with an amused grin. "Cheer up chum, at least they haven't got you practicing Orlesian dances yet."
Herah froze mid-gulp, eyes fixating on the mage beside her in pure, unadulterated horror.
"Another necessity, I'm afraid," Dorian explained, "especially at Grand Balls, it distracts from all the murderous plots being hatched."
It was at this point that Herah Adaar let out what could only be described as a grief-stricken wail and let her head slam defeatedly onto the table.
Three ominous figures were lurking in the atrium doorway. Solas had felt their presence long before their shadows were cast across the floor, but he had so far managed to ignore them, due to other pressing matters at hand such as unpacking a collection of runes he was particularly fond of. Cole had been a great help, taking each rune and patting it softly before gently placing them side by side in a display case he had managed to salvage from one of the towers.
Sadly, however, the figures appeared to be getting itchy feet and had started edging ever closer through the doorway. There was no way around it, then. Solas would have to face them. Here. Now.
The elf turned around and placed his hands on his desk, staring his foes squarely in the face. "Do you seek my assistance in some trivial matter?"
Blackwall stepped forwards, Iron Bull and Sera peering over his shoulders.
"Yes, actually," the bearded man replied, "We've been discussing spirits and the suchlike and we have a question."
Solas glared at the trio before him.
The trio stared back (Sera's eyes in particular were full of menacing mischief).
"Don't you dare-" Solas began.
"Do spirits really shit?" Blackwall finished.
Solas raised a hand as magical energy crackled into life.
"And of course, darling, we will require the finest cutlery."
"Yes, I couldn't agree more-"
"Tapestries and banners of such beauty they will stop ambassadors in their tracks-"
"I will add it to the list-"
"We want to inspire nobles," Vivienne continued, monitoring every item which Josephine hurriedly scribbled onto a list of such length it was now trailing behind them as they journeyed down the throne room, "We must enchant royalty and command respect-"
A sudden shriek, half-terror half-laughter, erupted from the atrium before Sera came catapulting into vision, quickly followed by Iron Bull, Blackwall and a barrage of ice spikes which smashed into the wall opposite. Sera promptly fell over her own feet in her hurry and was deftly swung onto the shoulders of Iron Bull who roared something about "SHIT'S STILL SHIT EVEN IF IT'S IN THE FADE", before Blackwall gave a loud guffaw and the three disappeared merrily out of the main door and towards the tavern.
A moment of silence as dust gently fell from the rafters above. Vivienne gracefully raised a hand to brush it from her shoulders.
"The enormity of such a task, however, must not be underestimated," The enchanter finished delicately, "Especially whilst we continue to house such cretins."
The quill swirled across the parchment again and again, interrupted only by the occasional groan of torture from the qunari wielding it. Herah had been forced into 'signature practice' in her quarters by Cassandra, in a very unwilling and bitter manner, and had worked through no less than three rolls of parchment in the past hour. Scrawling her name again and again and again in the same unnecessarily elaborate manner.
Josephine, who had been called in by Cassandra as reinforcements, gave the odd comforting word of encouragement and gentle pat on the back to the Herald who was, unfortunately and unarguably, really rather drunk after her escapades in the tavern.
"How do you make the loops look like letters…" Herah mumbled unhappily, "Why must we play God…"
"The trick is actually to make the letters look like loops," Josephine offered helpfully with a reassuring smile to boot.
Herah stared at her in agony, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Oh, honestly," Cassandra huffed, arms folded across her chest, "I've never seen such a fuss. And to think we are going to declare you our Inquisitor tomorrow."
"Cassandra!" Josephine squealed, staring accusingly at the Seeker beside her.
A deadpan expression from the warrior, save for a slight twitch in her right eyebrow. "…How troublesome."
Herah stared up at the two of them with wide eyes. She might still be drunk, but she wasn't completely devoid of all sense. "Inquisitor?! Josephine, explain-"
"You know, I think that concludes our practice for today," Josephine replied, hurriedly tidying away the parchment and making a hasty retreat with Cassandra, "Sleep well, Inquisitor-I MEAN HERALD!"
"Yes, you have a big day-A NORMAL DAY, A NORMAL DAY TOMORROW," Cassandra added, as the two promptly vanished down the stairs.
They should have expected it really. Herah was terribly hungover, with vast dark rings under her eyes, and had vomited at least four times before being forced outside to face the growing crowd. The people of Skyhold had been promised a speech from their newly appointed Inquisitor, and they were going to have it for better or worse.
Stood atop the steps leading to the throne room, Leliana presented Herah with the ceremonial sword uncertainly. Cassandra cleared her throat uncomfortably as she watched Herah suddenly wretch, only managing to pull herself together at the last moment.
The crowd below waited with bated breath.
"The Inquisition requires a leader," Cassandra began cautiously, "The one who has already been leading it."
A slight pause. The Seeker almost couldn't bring herself to say it.
"You."
Herah Adaar gave a tortured groan.
"All of these people have their lives because of you," Cassandra prompted awkwardly, "they will follow."
"They can follow me to the Void," Herah responded, thankfully quiet enough that only Cassandra and Leliana could hear, "because that's where this hangover is taking me."
"I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling," Cassandra continued valiantly, ushering Herah towards the sword, "But I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you will lead, that must be yours to decide."
The moment had arrived. Herah stood before Leliana's outstretched arms disinterestedly. She hadn't even noticed the sword, such was the state of her. The Spymaster and Seeker exchanged concerned glances. Leliana wiggled the sword to capture Herah's attention.
"Take it," Leliana hissed under her breath, "or I'll run it through you myself."
With an exasperated sigh that spanned the ages, Herah reluctantly took the sword from Leliana's grip and turned to face the crowd. She was unhappy to see Cullen and Josephine's admiring looks from below. They would be very disappointed.
"Thank you…Cassandra…Leliana," Herah began shakily, summoning all her willpower not to projectile vomit across the courtyard, "I would firstly like to thank my parents, who rejected the Qun and thus damned me to a life of shunning from every race, and who haven't responded to a single letter I've sent them since joining the Valos-kas and now the Inquisition. This leads me to believe they are most likely dead, which is fine, but I would like some closure on the matter."
A brief pause, another wretch. Cassandra and Leliana felt as though they were watching a wagon crash, unable to prevent the disaster but simultaneously unable to pry their eyes away from the carnage as it unfolded.
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Cassandra and Leliana," Herah continued, "my greatest friends and advisors, who clapped me in irons as soon as they looked at me. I don't know whether it was a qunari thing or a mage thing, but I'm still bitter as the Void-"
"You fell out of the Fade after the Conclave exploded-" Leliana hissed heatedly.
Herah, however, took no notice. "Now…it may have come to some of your attention…that my hand glows green. This is nothing to be worried about and is, in fact, a good source of light for night time reading."
"Maker's breath-" Cassandra muttered under her breath.
"In conclusion…" Herah continued, now swaying gently from side to side, "I am honoured to take up the mantle of Inquisitor since somebody," here she stared pointedly at Cassandra for a few moments, "swerved very hard. I now believe this to be a good thing, as I'm really…quite desperate to seek revenge on…Corphy…Corp…Carp…"
"CORYPHY-TIT!" Sera's voice echoed out from the distance.
"On Coryphy-tit," Herah corrected accordingly, "after he came for us out of nowhere. But we will take back what is ours!" Another slight pause. A few blinks from Herah. "Except we can't…because Haven got crushed…by a mountain slide…that we created ourselves…"
A few discontented murmurs in the crowd.
"…Whose…Whose idea was that again?" Herah asked, turning to look at Cassandra and Leliana for a few brief seconds before swiftly fainting on the spot.