As the sun set in the distance, a group of riders breached the hill over Haven. Those in it's company, one seeker, one Dwarven storyteller, one sassy Tevinter mage, and one very weary Dalish Elf, were barely keeping in their saddles.

The day had been eventful and exhausting.

Helped a few people in the Hinterlands, killed a bunch of Bandits, saved a bunch of villagers; all in a days work for the Herald of Andraste, the elf thought as he pushed white bangs out of his eyes.

Fenedhis, he hated that title.

Cendres Lavellan had lived a simple life for as long as he could remember. He had grown up quietly among the others of his Clan, never aspiring to anything other than taking good care of his family. Then one day, his Keeper had come to him.

There were to be peace talks among the Shems, she said.

Go and see what's going on with this whole mage rebellion business, she said.

It's an important job, but shouldn't take long, she said.

Now 3 months in and Cendres was no closer to going home than the day he'd left. And all because of a strange green mark.

With no idea what it was or how it worked, Cendres made miracles happen. He closed holes in the sky, fended off demons and had somehow managed to become the hope of salvation for all.

Yippee.

About the only good thing the elf had gotten out of the deal was the man currently riding beside him.

Dorian Pavus was a man as beautiful as he was witty. It hadn't been very long since he'd joined their ragtag group, and not everyone had been overjoyed to learn that the "Vint" would be signing on permanently.

Cendres, however, rather enjoyed the man's company. They would sit in the snow by the lake at Haven for hours, speaking of little things, something rare Cendres hung on to as the world roiled around him. He'd even begun teaching Dorian a little Elvhen. Only a little though, the mildly annoyed look on the man's face whenever Cendres used a word he did not know was ridiculously entertaining.
"Ma'samahl" was the main source of Dorian's frustration; a term of endearment Cendres had bestowed upon him, but would not tell the meaning of.

He thought it now, with a sigh, as he glanced over at the man.

The battle-worn mage was slumped over in his saddle, dozing off the evenings last battle. They'd been ambushed by a group of Templars near Radcliffe, a cruel fate after hours of wandering all over the countryside fighting demons. But hey, what's one more skirmish, can't possibly be that bad.

Cassandra had at least three broken ribs and several cuts in various places.

Varric had been cracked on the head, resulting in a nasty bump. Thank the Maker dwarves had such hard heads.

Cendres was nursing a stab wound to the thigh and a battered back.

And Dorian, Cendres' silver eyes swept over the handsome mage, Dorian had been flung across the road by an angry Templar and smashed against the rocks that littered the ground. Thankfully he'd gotten away with only a mild concussion, he hoped, and not much else.

Ghi'lan'na'in, Cendres thought as they passed through the gates of Haven, thank you for seeing us back safely.

Well, he sighed, mostly safely.

"Herald! So good to see you, if you wouldn't mind, we need to speak about the housing arrangements for all the mages we recently took in?"

Josephine was already waiting for him at the door of the keep.

"My," Cendres drawled. "Of course, Josephine, I can think of nothing else I would rather do. I feel so fresh just now after our gay little romp through the hills. Indeed, lets please discuss this further"

"Now, now, Blinky," Varric chided as he helped Dorian into the keep. "It might be fun! You might leave with a migraine to distract you from your bleeding leg! Think positive!"

"I'm positively going to hit you," Cassandra grunted as she limped in behind them.

"Oh! My lord, I am so sorry! Of course we shall see to your injuries at once! If you'll just wait in the war room."

And with that Josephine was bustling off to find a healer and make Cendres' life a living void.

"Don't work too hard, I would hate to imagine frown lines on that pretty face of yours."

Dorian waved Varric off, moving over to lean against the elf, a wry smirk dancing on his lips.

"Tossed about like a rag-doll and you still have the energy to joke, Ma'samahl?" Cendres chided, shifting to better support the mage.

"I'm resilient, what can I say?" Dorian laughed.

"Noted," Cendres smiled, passing the man off to the healers that had filed in.

"Now then, Herald," Josephine said, Cullen and Leliana appearing behind her. "Let's get you to the war room to be treated and then we can talk about the adjustments I'd-"

Josephine's sentence was cut off by a cry of surprise and a gasp from Leliana.

"Just who in the void are you and how did you get in here?!" Cullen shouted.

Cendres sighed and lifted tired silver eyes to the large wooden table in the center of the room.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

There, seated in the big middle of said table was a young Dalish girl, with features that mirrored his own. She grinned a bright smile, blue eyes shining out from under black bangs. Rather pleased with herself, his little sister was, rather pleased with herself indeed.

"Ceraes," Cendres sighed. "Do get off the table, Da'assan, your arse is right in the middle of our keep"