Hello everyone! This is my first Dragon Age story, so I hope I will make it an interesting one. There will be some original side-stories and OCs inside the main cannon story. Also some scenes or time-lines might not be the same as in the cannon (though mostly it is).
I'm not a native English speaker so I'm sorry for any mistakes I make, but I try to proofread each chapter.
Disclaimer: This story is rated M for blood, violence, language and some suggestive sexual themes (I'm not yet sure how sexual, but I think I'll keep it mostly censored) If there is any sexual NSFW content, you will be warned in the notes beforehand.
Also, this will eventualy have m/m romance, as the Inquisitor is male Lavellan, so there will be Iron BullxmLavellan romance.
CHAPTER 1
A Fish out of Water
Acquiring a human scout uniform was even easier than Nymrodel thought it would be. All he had to do was wait for nightfall and sneak closer to the camp where he saw clothes drying on a line of rope. Luckily, the forest surrounding the Temple proved to be excellent cover as he moved unnoticed through the woods, despite many others marching the same way as him. They all had the same destination; the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the Devine Conclave would be held to determine appropriate course of action and hopefully negotiate peace between the Templars and the Mages. The Keeper of his Clan warned these talks won't just determine the future of the Chantry or the Circles, but would affect all of Thedas, including Clan Lavellan. And so Nymrodel volunteered for the task of observing the negotiations, feeling it was a way to help his Clan.
So far luck was on his side, and being a rogue and a scout for the Clan, staying hidden in the shadows was second nature to him.
He hid behind a tree, observing the two remaining humans who weren't sleeping in their tents. They were left on guard duty, but were both unfocused and nodding off every now and then. It wasn't surprising since everyone expecting to be at the Conclave were trekking a whole day's worth to reach the top of the mountain. Soldiers marched all day in armor, while the hired men had to carry equipment and supplies with them and scouts had to rush to be in front of everyone to inform if there were any problems ahead; everyone was exhausted.
Careful to stay in the shadows, the roguish elf snuck carefully towards a set of clothes, waiting for the two guards to nod off again. He made sure not to step on any leaves or branches that could alarm the men, as he drew closer to his target. When the moment was right while the guards weren't paying attention, he grabbed the scout uniform quickly and disappeared into the darkness of the forest once more. He grinned happily at a job well done.
He examined the clothes in his arms as he walked away; they were shemlen clothing, unnecessarily thick and heavy even for a scout's light uniform, but it will have to do. If everything goes according to plan, tomorrow he will reach the Temple along with everyone else and start gathering information while staying as inconspicuous as possible. For now, everything was going smoothly and he could only hope tomorrow will be no different.
~…..~
"Wake up!"
He was roughly shaken awake, making him blink his eyes open in confusion. Two ice-blue eyes opened slowly, examining his surroundings. He heard a slamming of the doors and loud voices, but he was still too disoriented to make any sense of it. Nymrodel furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand the situation, but never got the chance as he saw a woman in front of him. She was on him before he could even pull back or defend himself, grabbing him by the collar and roughly pulling him closer to her.
"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you right now!?"
His already pale skin turned to a ghostly shade of white when he heard her question. He wanted to push her away, but realized his wrists were chained. Looking down, he could see he was still wearing the shems' uniform, but his dual daggers were missing, as were all his other weapons. Panic struck at his heart when he realized he was unarmed, defenseless and captured by these people. He was at the mercy of very angry humans, as far as he could tell from the woman yelling at him.
At first he thought this was all about him spying at the Conclave. He thought they caught him, although he couldn't actually remember being captured. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember anything after yesterday night. He stayed quiet, deciding it was the best option for now and just observed the room around him. It was a dark place, with one guard at the corner and two women in front of him. All of them were armed, so his chances of fighting through them was nil. The big one was still yelling in an accent he couldn't recognize while the redheaded one kept silent.
"The Conclave is destroyed, the Devine is dead, everyone at the peace negotiations is dead!"
Nymrodel's eyes widened in shock. *What? What is she talking about?!* He didn't have time to ask before the woman took his left hand and brought it to his face. As she did, a bright green light spread through his palm and it made a sound as if it was charged with electricity. He stiffened. Okay, now he was officially freaking out.
"Explain this," the woman demanded in a calmer tone, but equally murderous as before.
The elf stared at his own palm with wide eyes, gaping at the state of his left hand. "I…I can't." He desperately tried to think of a good explanation, tried to remember what happened to him, but he simply couldn't. He knew such an answer would likely only bring more fury upon him by the black-haired woman, but it was the truth.
"You're lying!" As expected, the woman didn't accept his explanation. She grabbed his shoulders, tightening her grip on his slender arms enough to bruise.
"Wait, Cassandra!" Finally, the redheaded woman made her move. Her accent was different from the other. Orlesian, he guessed. She grabbed the bigger woman and stopped her from hurting the prisoner, leading her a few steps away from him. "Remember, we need him."
Meanwhile, the elf still tried to make sense of the situation. "I don't understand anything! I was at the Conclave, yes, I came to observe the negotiations, but I can't remember anything else," he shook his head.
The woman Nymrodel now knew as Cassandra sighed in resignation as she calmed down.
The two walked back towards him and he stiffened, expecting another onslaught. Fortunately, it never came. Instead, it was the redhead who crouched before him now.
"What is your name?"
Crystal blue eyes looked up at her timidly. "Nym...Nymrodel." At first he answered her with the usual nickname everyone called him at the Clan, but then remembered this situation demanded something more official. Still, he left his Clan name unsaid. He couldn't risk these humans raining down their wrath on his Clan too. If he was to die here, so be it, but he wouldn't sell out his Clan no matter how much they tortured him. He needed to keep them out of this, at least.
The woman nodded. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"
Nym's eyes darted across the floor as if he would somehow find the answers there. He closed his eyes tightly in frustration, trying to remember anything. If he could appease these humans at least a little, maybe they wouldn't kill him. A few flashes came to his mind; running, spiders, a woman, then a bright light…It made no sense but it's all he could remember.
"I…remember I was running, with some...things chasing me. And then a...woman," he answered as best he could.
The woman frowned in confusion, "A woman?"
*Hey, don't ask me, I'm just as confused about it as you are,* Nym thought, but kept it to himself. He had a feeling they wouldn't appreciate the input.
Now it was Cassandra's turn to lead the other one away. "Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take him to the rift."
The redhead known as Leliana nodded and left the dark room, while Cassandra went to work on Nymrodel's chains. The small elf stiffened, knowing full well that he was hardly in the clear yet. And if he tried to run, he'd probably get killed on the spot or arise even more suspicion of himself. He had no idea what he was dealing with or how many guards were outside the door, so trying anything now would be simply foolish. Instead, he let the woman work on his chains as she released the ones on his ankles, but kept his wrists tied in rope.
"What happened," he dared a whispered question.
The woman's lips tightened in a thin line before she spoke with a troubled expression. "It would be easier to show you."
That answer couldn't be good, Nym knew it. But he was hardly prepared for what he saw outside. Despite the cloudy day, his eyes still hurt and watered when the outside light hit his face. His short snow-white hair almost glistened in the daylight. He raised his hands to shield his eyes before he got used to the light, then gazed up at the sky…and gasped. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, let alone describe it to anyone if asked. A massive whirlpool of green light mixed with debris, which looked like it swallowed a part of the sky. If there was ever a portal to the Beyond, he was sure this is what it would look like. Nym didn't know what explanation there was for it, but it couldn't be anything good. He could already imagine all the horrifying possibilities.
"We call it the 'Breach.' It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger every passing hour," Cassandra explained.
*I was wrong. It could be worse than I imagined,* the elf deadpanned in his mind.
Cassandra turned towards him as she continued, "It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion of the Conclave."
Nym's gaze fell to his feet as a pang of sorrow hit his chest. There were so many people at the Conclave, did all of them really die? So how come he was the only one who survived it? Numerous questions swirled inside his muddled mind, but no answers came. He frowned as one more question materialized, "Can an explosion really do all this?"
"This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world," the warrior woman explained.
As if to prove her point, an explosion was heard from the Breach and Nymrodel's left hand instantly acted up. A burning pain shot through his hand, pooling in the green scar of his palm. He screamed in sudden agony, falling to his knees in surprise.
"What…What's happening to me!?" All thoughts of staying calm flew out the window with the searing pain coming from this foreign mark.
Cassandra knelt before him as she spoke, though Nym could hardly stay focused on her as fear gripped his heart. He was trembling from both pain and panic.
"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads and it is killing you!"
From the look of the bright mark on his hand, Nym knew she wasn't lying.
As if sensing his despair, the woman continued. "Not all is lost yet! That mark may also be the key to stopping this…but there isn't much time so we must hurry."
"Hurry where?" Slowly, the elf stood back up, but the pained scowl didn't leave his young features.
"We need to close that Breach and your mark might be a key to doing that. But we must test it first. This is your only way to save yourself…and prove your innocence."
"You still think I'm the one to blame? That I did this to myself?" Nymrodel couldn't help rising his voice in frustration. He wasn't even a mage and this power obviously seemed magical. There was no possible way for him to do something like this even if he wanted to.
"Not intentionally…But someone is responsible and you are our only suspect. You might not be responsible for the explosion, but you are clearly involved…this mark on your hand proves it," she explained, much calmer than she was when interrogating him. However, that hardly helped him relax knowing he was still treated as a criminal.
The elf closed his eyes and sighed deeply before nodding, "I understand. I'll do what I can…though I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be doing."
The woman seemed pleased with his answer and nodded in understanding, "Come."
She laid a hand on his shoulder as she guided him down the path filled with people, but rather than for comfort, it was probably just to keep him in check in case he tried to run. Not that he had anywhere to go. They were deep in the cold mountains and he was surrounded by humans that thought him their enemy.
"They already decided your guilt. They need someone to blame," Cassandra started next to him.
He noticed the glares and glowers filled with malice and hate directed at him. He had to stop himself from wincing at the bloodthirst he felt from these humans. He shrunk into himself as if staying small and unnoticeable would help him disappear and avoid their prosecution.
"The people of Haven mourn Devine Justinia, our most holy. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together and now they are dead. We lash out as the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed." As Cassandra talked, they walked down the main road and out of Haven, to the vast outdoors.
Everything was covered in snow, giving the world an almost peaceful atmosphere if one didn't look up at the torn sky. Nym could see the white mist gathering around his lips with every breath, but at least the thick shemlen clothing kept him warm. The slender elf almost looked like he was a natural part of this wintry place with his milky pale skin and pure white hair. Even his eyes were the same color as the bright ice gathering on the rocks around them.
He did understand what Cassandra was trying to tell him; 'This is bigger than any of us, so for now we must work together.' It was something his Keeper would say and Nymrodel did agree. Yet he couldn't help but worry what will happen to him once this was over. When they won't need him anymore. His mind went back to the hateful stares from earlier. He doubted these humans would care about justice for one shifty 'knife-ear' as they so often called his people.
He was brought out from his thoughts when the woman suddenly pulled out a knife and stepped towards him. He had to fight the urge to step back in response. *No, if she wanted to kill me, she would have already done so,* he reasoned with his alarmed mind. It wasn't in his nature to stay still when someone was coming towards him with a knife.
As if reading his thoughts, Cassandra spoke up, "There will be a trial. I can promise no more." With that, she cut the rope tying his wrists together and put the knife away.
Nym sighed, rubbing the soreness out of his chafed wrists. Now if only he could get his hands on some weapons as well. Sadly he guessed his dual daggers were already long gone and he doubted he'd be seeing them again. Despite being Dalish, Nymrodel had always been better with blades than with a bow. Compared to the hunters of his clan he was barely average in archery, but give him a short blade and he could swiftly spar with any opponent. It was like a dance for him, where every step was another deadly strike.
"So we are going to just…close that thing?" Nym gazed up at the large rift suspiciously. That sounded too easy.
"Not yet. We must test your mark on something smaller first. Come, it is not far." Cassandra already started walking ahead, her back turned to him. Perhaps she trusted him enough now to know he wouldn't try to escape.
~…..~
Nymrodel never had much experience with demons. During travels with the Clan, they would sometimes encounter them in old ruins or ancients burial sites, but those were usually Wrights or Shades at worst. The Keeper would either cleanse the place of them or decide for the Aravels to move on, not wanting to risk any corruption or unnecessary casualties. Of course, all of the Dalish in his clan were taught by the Keeper about the danger of demons and also how to best fight them. Nym studied carefully every demon known to man and their weaknesses, but his knowledge was vastly theoretical.
That is why the demon before him was nothing like he ever encountered before. It stood before him in twice his height, with scraggy green skin and numerous dark eyes piercing him with their hollow stare. Each finger on its thin long hand was actually a claw, sharp enough to tear his flesh right off the bones. The type of this creature was called a Terror Demon and as it slowly dragged its legs towards him while letting out an ear-piercing screech, Nym felt like there was never a name more accurate for it.
However, he wasn't unarmed and defenseless as he previously was. On their way, the elf managed to get his hands on a pair of dual daggers along with some other supplies scattered next to a destroyed shipment. He even managed to find a few healing potions which both him and Cassandra distributed between themselves. At first Cassandra wanted to take his head for using weapons without her permission, but luckily the warrior saw reason and let him keep them. Good thing she did, because they've been encountering demons ever since. It seemed the closer they were to the Breach, the more demons roamed the area.
He tightened his grip around the daggers as if he could squeeze the needed courage out of them. Watching the Terror demon approach him, he wished he had some throwing knives with him as well, but he would have to make do with the two weapons in his hands. He waited before the creature was right in front of him, rising its long clawed hand into the air. Just as it swung it down, about to tear at his throat, the elf jumped into a forward roll and towards the only opening he saw; through its legs. Thankfully, the tall and thin frame of the demon gave him enough room to maneuver through. When its claws swung down, they only ripped through air, while the elf found himself safely behind the demon's back. Wasting no time, he quickly turned and slashed with both his daggers at the back of its knees. It screeched loudly, though he couldn't tell whether it was out of pain or fury. Could demons even feel pain? The thought was fleeting and he acted again, before it had the chance to turn around. He jumped on its back, stabbing the two blades into it. His weight pulled the piercing daggers down with him and the weapons ripped through the demon's slightly hunched back. Nym landed back on the ground in a crouch, watching the creature before him shriek and writhe in agony as its body slowly fell apart into fragments. It dispersed into thin air and the green flecks returned back to the fade through the open rift.
His gaze traveled across his surroundings. It wasn't just him and Cassandra anymore. They came to a clearing where more human soldiers were fighting the demons. In the middle of the chaos was a green disturbance in the air. It was smaller than the one he saw from Haven, but it still looked like someone forcefully split open reality itself.
He quickly ran over to the small rift only for a large Shade demon to cut in his way. It was bigger than any Shade he fought before and it roared as if trying to intimidate him. The elf took a deep breath and gripped his dual daggers again, but before he could act, a large fireball hit the Shade and set it on fire. It roared once more before turning into a puddle of black goo.
*A mage?!* Nym scanned around the area to see who threw that fireball, but he didn't have to look far. The man responsible already appeared before him, taking the wrist of his left hand rather forcefully.
"Quickly, you must close the rift!" The mage before him was an elf, but bare-faced and wearing strange clothing that neither fit the image of city elves nor the Dalish.
"Wait-," Nym tried to protest, uncertain what the other was trying to do with him, but before he could, the mage lifted his marked hand towards the fade rift.
His mark made a crackling sound and so did the rift, before they both connected by a stream of pure energy. Nymrodel gasped, both afraid and astonished as he felt a strange pull of energy between himself and the portal. He gaped in awe, eyes wide as he felt his hand was connected to fade itself. The crackling noises continued until a burst came through the rift and with a small explosion of energy, it closed. "Ah!" The sudden burst hit right into Nym's palm, almost knocking him onto his backside. "What…what in the name of Fen'Harel was that," he exclaimed, staring at all the people present around him. There were a few soldiers and two new faces that didn't quite fit in with the rest; the mage elf and a dwarf.
"So it is true; you can close the rifts with that mark," the elf commented with a satisfied smile, ignoring Nym's outburst.
"Then perhaps he can close the Breach as well," Cassandra noted.
Nymrodel tried to glare at them both at the same time, "Can you please stop talking about me like I'm not even here." It felt like he was the only one without any idea what was going on and it was really starting to get frustrating. He hated feeling so out of control, even when his own life was on the line.
"Right, sorry about that." The one who spoke was the dwarf holding an unusual crossbow. Nymrodel wasn't an artisan, but even he noticed the fine craftsmanship of the weapon. "One easily forgets his manners when he's fighting demons all day," he joked. "Name's Varric Tethras. A rogue, storyteller, businessman and occasionally – unwelcome tagalong," he bowed slightly as a greeting, while winking at Cassandra. She only have him a glare in return.
"That's a lot of occupations; you must be exhaustingly busy," Nym noted with a joking smirk and the other laughed.
"What can I say, I'm a hardworking man," he answered in the same jesting manner while shrugging.
"Yes, your help has been…appreciated, Varric, but your job is done. I only brought you here to tell your story of what happened in Kirkwall to the Devine and now that is impossible." A shadow of guilt and sadness crossed her expression as she remembered Devine Justinia's untimely demise once more.
"If you haven't noticed, Seeker, we're ass-deep in demons! You need any help you can get," the dwarf responded as the two argued.
As if eager to change the subject, the mage elf spoke to break the sudden tense atmosphere. "And my name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am glad to see you yet live," he greeted. Nym rose his eyebrow in question at Solas' words.
"He means; I stopped the mark from killing you while you slept," Varric explained, seeing the young elf's puzzled look.
"You know about my mark…what it is?" Nymrodel felt a glimmer of hope rise inside his heart. Perhaps this mage knew how to get rid of it too.
"I study the fade extensively. Whatever magic opened that large rift in the sky, it also placed that mark on your hand. I theorized that your mark might be a way to close these rifts and I was correct," he explained, a hint of satisfaction in his voice that his hypothesis proved true.
On the other hand, Nym wasn't as pleased. Yes, he was glad he could help with stopping these fade rifts, but having the same magic on his hand that destroyed the Conclave just implicated him further. *Great, now I look even guiltier,* he frowned in thought. *I still don't understand why I even have this thing on me…*
"Solas came to us willingly. He volunteered to help with the Breach shortly after he appeared. He is an apostate," Cassandra explained.
"Technically all mages are apostates now, Seeker. If we do not close the Breach, we are all doomed, regardless of origin," the mage pointed out matter-of-factly.
Nymrodel nodded. "I can agree with that. That's why I want to help too. I think nobody wants this world to stay ass-deep in demons," he grinned at Varric, repeating the dwarf's previous words. He turned back to the other elf then, "Thank you for saving my life."
The man nodded in return with a smile before questioning him further. "You do not know how your mark came to be?"
The rogue elf frowned. "I don't remember. I woke up and it was just…there."
"Conveniently," Cassandra mumbled with obvious disdain.
Solas turned towards the woman. "Seeker, you should know; the power of the Breach is like none I've ever seen. I find it difficult to believe any mage has such power and your prisoner isn't even a mage."
Nym was surprised at first, but then a feeling of gratitude washed over him. Solas was standing up for him, in a sense. He was trying to exonerate him of the crimes everyone else accused him of so far. He knew the mage didn't do it without cause; it meant he truly didn't believe Nymrodel was guilty, but that was enough for him. He turned his hopeful gaze to the warrior woman who sighed in return.
"I understand," was all she said, but Nym already realized she wasn't a woman of many words. It was a miracle he even got that much out of her. Still, even if he couldn't convince her of his innocence, perhaps Solas' words could at least make her doubt his guilt.
"And what about your name," Varric started. "I could give you a nickname, but knowing your actual name would be a good start too."
"Oh, right!" With all that was happening around him, Nym realized he completely forgot to introduce himself. "My name is Nymrodel, but everyone just calls me Nym for short. It's less of a tongue-twister," he managed a small smile. Once again, he kept his Clan name to himself; just in case. These odd individuals didn't seem like bad people, but it was far too early to risk them finding out about his Clan.
"Heh, I agree," Varric chuckled. Then he lifted his heavy-looking crossbow. "And this is Bianca! Say hello, Bianca!" He talked as if the weapon was a real person, making Nym blink in wonder.
"You named your crossbow Bianca? Rather…you named your crossbow?"
"Of course! Such a beauty deserves a name, don't ya think," the dwarf questioned with a wide grin.
"Uhh…" Was Nym supposed to seriously answer that or…? His long ear twitched as it caught the soft sound coming from Cassandra when she made a disgusted noise. He could just imagine her rolling her eyes at Varric.
"Come on, we must proceed to the forward camp quickly," she called out, deciding to stop this useless chatter. They had far more important things to take care of.
The dwarf shrugged as they all followed after the Seeker, "Well, Bianca's excited."
~…..~
"Hey Varric," the other rogue whispered as their newly formed group made their way towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes – or what was left of it at least. Now that they confirmed Nym's mark could close the fade rifts, there was only one thing to do; get to the large rift there and close it. Nym didn't feel particularly confident about it, but at least he wasn't alone in this endeavor. And however dangerous it may be, even he could understand it was important to see it through. He didn't want this world to be plagued with demons any more than the rest of the group. Every time his will would falter, he would remember Clan Lavellan and it would give him strength to press on. No matter what, he needed to protect them.
The dwarf turned towards him with a questioning hum. They were a bit behind the group that had grown in members. Besides the elf mage and Cassandra, the redhead Leliana and a few of their soldiers also accompanied them to the Temple. Although he was certain Solas had no problem hearing them since he was too an elf and had sensitive hearing, in all honesty, Nym was more worried about angering Cassandra. So he kept his voice low.
"Why do you call Lady Cassandra 'Seeker'?"
"What, you don't know?" Despite the elf's obvious attempts to stay unnoticeable, the dwarf spoke in a loud voice, uncaring that the woman in question might hear. Nym flinched when he saw a few heads turning their way in interest, but Varric either didn't notice or didn't mind as he continued in his usual tone, "Because, that's what she is; A Seeker of Truth. Kind of like a Templar…Didn't she tell you anything?!" His demanding gaze pierced Cassandra's back, the voice carrying far enough for the woman to hear. "I bet they didn't even introduce themselves properly, or mention who they are, or who these soldiers are," he sighed, a bit irritated.
"He is on a need-to-know basis. The prisoner is accused of a terrible crime," Cassandra bit back, turning her head ever so slightly to acknowledge them.
Nym hated being reminded of that.
"Yet you want his help. Unless you just decided to take him out and show him the sights," Varric poked back at her.
Wanting to stop another bickering session between the two, the elf rogue interfered, "So who are they all?"
"Cassandra and Leliana are the Right and Left hand of the Devine, respectively," the dwarf explained.
Respectively or not, the Dalish had no idea what that meant. He gave the dwarf a questioning stare.
Varric continued, understanding he'd have to explain a bit further than that, "They were the Devine's unofficial agents; doing things like gathering these soldiers.
That's when Solas interjected, "Since the Templar Order abandoned the Chantry to hunt down mages, the Chantry was left without an army. They needed a replacement."
"It is more than just that," the redhead known as Leliana spoke up now. She walked alongside the Seeker, as they all headed for the Temple together.
"Yes, clearly the Devine had something in mind for them," Varric noted rather cryptically.
"Let's move on," Cassandra urged, but that only made Nym more suspicious of what he heard.
*If one is gathering an army, doesn't that usually mean they are preparing for war? Even before the Conclave, we heard rumors of the Devine starting an Exalted March because of the mage uprising. Now that they lost the Templars, perhaps they need another army to make that happen,* Nym's mind raced with thoughts as he bit his lower lip, his gaze almost burning a hole in Cassandra's back. He knew of the Exalted March from the Dalish stories of their history. It was a terrible army that once almost wiped out his entire people. The thought of it being called once more made a chill run down his spine. If that were to happen, he wanted to get away with his Clan as far as possible before the destruction it would cause reached them.
Wanting to distract himself from such bleak thoughts, he turned towards the dwarf again. "So I take it you and Cassandra know each other?"
Varric's eyes narrowed as if he just remembered something unpleasant. "You could say that…She stabbed my book," he frowned.
Nym's head tilted in confusion. *Is that some kind of euphemism?*
"I did no such thing," a defensive exclaim from somewhere in front called out.
Leliana's amused laughter followed suit.
Varric sighed in irritation. Not at the elf's questions, but at some distant memory he was reliving. "She questioned me and then dragged me here to give evidence to the Conclave," he explained.
"And now I can't get rid of him," Cassandra finished for him in an irked tone.
Leliana chuckled once more. "But he has proven quite useful so far, no?"
Cassandra only grunted in dissatisfaction as an answer.
"The reason you two weren't at the Conclave was because you were questioning Master dwarf here, yes?" Solas spoke up.
Nymrodel noticed both Leliana's and Cassandra's backs straightened at that, as they suddenly went rigid.
"Yes…," the Seeker managed to push the word out through her teeth.
"A fortunate delay then…considering it saved your lives," the mage continued in an aloof attitude.
However, it seemed the two women didn't share his opinion. The air around them suddenly tensed. The warrior woman spoke first. "There was nothing fortunate about it! Perhaps if we had been there we might have…this might all have been….," she couldn't even force herself to finish her thoughts.
"Cassandra," it was Leliana who stopped her with a gentle voice. "There is no reason to torture yourself with 'what ifs' now."
"But you feel the same way, Leliana," the Seeker countered, pain dripping from her voice.
"Yes…and I too have asked myself the same questions countless times. I will regret it for the rest of my life, not being at the Conclave…when the Most Holy needed me. But now, we must turn that pain into strength and push on…that is what she would have wanted," the Left Hand of the Devine explained, her voice just as sorrowful as Cassandra's.
"I apologize…I didn't mean to cause any pain with my words," Solas sighed.
"But it is the truth. Everyone at the Temple died. If you had been there, you would have died too and then nobody would be here now to deal with this Breach and the demons. You stepped up and organized these men and women when there was no one else to act. You had that chance only because you lived," Nym answered straightforwardly. Perhaps a bit too straightforward, but that was simply his personality. His way of thinking told him they had nothing to feel guilty about. Being one of the Dalish, he was used to thinking practically. For him Solas' words, even if too frank for their liking, were true. To Nym it made sense to want to live, to survive and fight on. They should be glad they lived.
Both Cassandra and Leliana turned to look at him and he half expected to see them glare daggers at him. Instead, their expressions told him they were taken aback by his words. Was it because he, a mere prisoner, dared to speak up? He gulped, suddenly feeling regretful. The Keeper always warned him his big mouth would get the better of him one day. *Dammit, I just got too caught up in the conversation and Varric's relaxed mood. I forgot I am in a different situation than the rest of them. Although Varric was once Cassandra's prisoner from what I can gather and he is still alive; at least that's comforting.*
While Nym was contemplating whether he should quickly apologize for his brash statements, Cassandra spoke to him, "I….you are right. Thinking of it that way is…perhaps a little comforting," she admitted softly.
Nym was left in shock, never expecting the big warrior woman could show even this small sign of gentleness.
Leliana didn't say anything, but she smiled before turning her back to them along with Cassandra.
Varric and Nymrodel were left staring at the woman's back in bewilderment.
"Well I'll be damned…," the dwarf muttered beneath his breath, one eyebrow raised.
~…..~
Saying the Temple of Sacred Ashes was a wreck wouldn't do it justice. The area looked as if Damnation itself poured onto every poor soul unfortunate enough to be here at the time. Everything was covered in cinders and soot, blackening the ground and walls of what's left of the Temple. Charred remains of the people were littered around them, some of them still bearing the terrified expressions they wore right before their deaths.
Nym stared at one of the people, unrecognizable beyond the thin, scorched form that was once a human being. The body was still on its feet, crouching and shielding their face as if the person was trying to protect themselves in their last moments. Their eyes and mouth stayed wide in shock as the person witnessed the explosion right before it swept them away as well.
The elf felt a chill rise in his heart at the sight before him. There was so much destruction here, so much death, yet he somehow managed to survive all this. Seeing the remains of the Temple now, it felt even less possible than before; no wonder nobody believed his story.
"Come, we must find a way down to the rift," Cassandra called out to him, breaking him away from the dreaded feelings and thoughts. She could see the elf became sickly pale as he watched the ruins, but such a reaction was expected. Right now, everyone felt the same. They were all in despair about what came to be at this place.
Absentmindedly, the elf stared at the glowing mark on his hand before he turned from the charred bodies and gazed at the fade rift up ahead. It was morphing and shifting like it was alive. Who knows what atrocities would come out of it once they get close.
Even so, they pushed on. Through narrow passageways that led downwards in a spiral, closer towards the ruins where the giant fade rift spread above them. Spikes of red stone grew out of the ground and walls, its red veins spreading like braches into the surroundings. The red stone glowed and crackled, corrupting even the air around it.
"This is red lyrium," Varric exclaimed in surprise. "Just like in Kirkwall, but there's even more of it here! Why would it be here, Seeker?"
When Varric lost his laid-back disposition, Nymrodel knew things were bad. Whatever this red lyrium was, it was obviously dangerous if even the dwarf feared it.
"What is this thing? I've never seen lyrium in this color before," the elf muttered, wanting to examine it more closely, only for Varric to pull him away.
"Whatever you do, don't touch it! This stuff is vile! Just being near it is enough to mess with your mind. Both Knight-Commander Meredith and my brother went insane because of it. In the end, the Knight-Commander turned into a red statue in the Kirkwall Gallows and nobody even wants to get close enough to remove it," Varric explained, all the while keeping the same disgusted expression on his face as he stared at the spikes of red stone.
"So it's corrupted lyrium…as if normal lyrium wasn't poisonous enough for most people," Nym grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the red veins traveling across the ground.
"I have no idea why it's here, but now isn't the time, Varric. We have more pressing matters," the Seeker reminded as she gazed up at the rift.
"Indeed. I believe we are here," Solas called out as they found themselves on what was left of a terrace on the upper level. Below them was a clearing, once a courtyard, now covered in ruble. Above the clearing was the rift, distorting the atmosphere around it.
"I will stay up on the terrace with the archers. We can cover you from there if something gets through," Leliana called out. She took her bow, then started positioning her men on the upper level where they would have the best view of the courtyard below.
Meanwhile, Nymrodel focused his big elven eyes on the rift. His mark crackled with power, as if calling him to use it. But something felt wrong. "This rift is….different," he stated.
"Yes, this rift hasn't opened correctly," Solas started, bringing the other elf's attention to himself. "I believe you can use your mark to open the rift completely and then close it properly. However, opening it will likely attract attention from the other side."
"That means demons! Be ready for anything," Cassandra called out, unsheathing her sword and rising her shield in preparation.
"Oh great, more demons," Nym sighed, but raised his left hand anyway. He opened his palm, focusing on the fade rift above him. Just like before, a connection appeared between his mark and the rift, but it was different this time. Instead of pulling the energy from the rift, the mark seemed to feed it power, causing the rift to open completely.
It would have been great if he could've just opened the rift and then quickly closed it without any trouble. Alas, that didn't happen. The half-summoned rift must've attracted the attention of spirits who were pushing against the Veil on the other side. As soon as Nymrodel opened the portal completely, those spirits flew through. The silent Wraiths made from the fade he could deal with. But that thing that came through with them. It was three times the size of a person both in height and girth. It looked like it had the capacity to swallow him whole, and judging by the rows of big razor-sharp teeth, it would be a very unpleasant experience.
"A Pride demon!" Cassandra celled out. "Weaken it, chip at his armor with your blows!" She was the first to throw herself into battle without hesitation, without fear. As intimidating as the big woman could be, Nym couldn't help but be impressed. He watched her take the lead, rising the morale of her men, as she slammed her shield right into the large demon's knee, making it stumble back from the sudden blow.
On the terrace, Leliana gave her troops orders, shouting for them to give supporting fire to the group fighting below. "The squad on the left, aim for the Wraiths and Shades that come through! The rest of you, aim for the Pride demon. Help distract it so the ground group can finish it off!"
Meanwhile, Nym could feel a slight rush of power coursing through him. His skin felt electrified slightly and he realized it was the elven mage, casting a protective barrier around them all. The rogue pulled out his dual daggers from the sheaths on his back and glared up at the monstrous demon. It laughed deeply as it struck at its foes, delivering devastating blows with its gigantic arms. The elf ran towards it, throwing himself to the ground and sliding the rest of the way on the stone just as the demon swung its arm. It swished above his head and he could feel the air tickle at his hair from the arm's movement. He found himself below the demon and without delay stabbed both his daggers into the side of the demon's knee. All he could do was try and slow it down, constrict its movements or bring it to its knees if he's lucky, so Cassandra could use the opportunity to strike at its head and other weak points.
Ice and lightning flew around him as Solas used his magic to support the warriors, accompanied by Varric's barrage of small but strong bolts from his crossbow. Above them, the sky was clouded by carefully shot arrows that pierced the incoming demons.
The pride demon roared loudly when Nymrodel's daggers pierced its thick skin. It whirled around, trying to hit its assailant. At the demon's sudden spin, the elf was tossed aside like a rag doll, still tightly holding onto his weapons that fell out of the demon's knee.
He looked up just in time to see the Pride demon collecting energy into its hands. It was about to hit the elf with its electrical attack. *I need to move! It will fry me if I let it hit me directly!* But Nym was lying on his back and had no time to move far enough to dodge the wide-spread power attack. His eyes widened, darting around to find a better solution then just 'trying to dodge' when a shadow appeared before him.
Nym's eyes widened when he saw Cassandra standing in front of him with her shield covering her as she took the full brunt of the attack. She stopped the electricity blast and it spread everywhere around them, except onto the pair protected by the shield.
He couldn't believe it. Until now, Cassandra showed no concern for him. She didn't even use his name, only calling him 'The prisoner' so as to keep her distance from him. Yet just now, she protected him. She saved his life.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the Seeker interrupted him with a shout, "Move!"
She didn't need to tell him twice. Hopefully if they survive this, there will be time to say his thanks later, but for now they were still in the middle of a battle. He needed to think of their current situation and stay focused.
He made a side roll, distancing himself from the Pride demon and stood up right in front of a Shade. He spun once while he rose to his feet, slashing at its chest with his right dagger, than continued his spin to avoid its claw attack before slashing it again with both blades; chest and neck this time. The shade made a gurgling noise before it turned into a puddle of black liquid.
Nym looked at his group who were desperately fighting the Pride demon while more demons kept pouring out of the rift. *This isn't enough. The rift is still too strong to close it and we can't keep fighting for much longer. The demons will swarm all over us soon,* he thought, hastily trying to think of something. He didn't understand how he could tell the rift's strength, but he simply felt it with his mark.
"Young master Nym!" Solas called out to him from nearby. "I have an idea. If you use your mark on the rift, even if you cannot close it yet, you can disrupt it and therefore weaken the demons that traveled out of it," the mage explained in a hurry, casting another spell towards the Pride demon. He managed to freeze its legs this time, giving Cassandra and Varric some time to deliver a few good blows to it. The demon's skin was so thick, it was like natural armor and it made it hard for arrows or swords to pierce through it.
Thanks to Solas' suggestion, the rogue actually felt a flicker of hope appear. He gave a relieved smile to the mage, "Evanuris lasa ma enansal, you read my mind!" He ran forward, cutting through a Wraith on his way, getting as close as he could to the rift without attracting attention of the demons. Luckily, the others were keeping the Pride demon busy, but he still had to worry about the smaller ones coming at him every so often.
"Varric," he called out to the sharpshooter who was currently drilling holes into one of the Shades. "Give me some cover while I do this."
"Sure…But do what?"
Despite having no idea what Nym was planning, Varric proceeded to keep demons away from the elf, giving him enough time to work.
He had no time to waste. Nymrodel focused on the rift and raised his hand high into the air, feeling that unnerving electrifying sensation between his fingers whenever he made a connection between the mark and the rift. He prayed to Mythal for this to work; the one known as the Protector and whose vallaslin he wore on his face to remind him every day of his duty to protect his Clan, his People, and in this moment the companions who fought by his side. He closed his eyes to focus, feeling his hand tremble from the surge of power coming out of his mark. Touching the fade like this daunted him every time, as it felt like he was almost physically connected to it, but he couldn't stop for anything now. Even as he felt the pain and heat in the palm of his marked hand, Nymrodel strengthened his resolve and continued the connection.
Perhaps Mythal heard his prayers and answered them, because the rift burst as if overcharged by the mark's power. It didn't close, but all the demons stumbled as if momentarily weakened.
"Everyone attack the Pride demon, now!" Without waiting for conformation, the roguish elf rushed towards the large monster that was currently on its knees and jumped high in the air above it. He turned face-down, spinning his body in the air and slashed with both daggers at its head. The strange horns on the Pride demon's head were sliced apart by his blades. Using his fall, the elf stabbed both weapons right at the top of the head where he guessed the armored skin was somewhat softer.
The demon roared in pain, trying to lift to its feet, but the others wouldn't have it. Varric aimed for the demon's numerous eyes and Solas froze its lower body so it couldn't stand up.
Still having his two daggers stuck in the monster's head, Nym pulled backwards with them, manipulating the demon's movements. It had no choice but to go along with the pull of its head, leaning backwards and exposing its chest. "Cassandra," Nym called out as he gave her a clear view of the demon's front side, where the armor wasn't as thick. Before, the demon was guarding itself well, making it hard to even hit that spot, but now with its arms and legs frozen, half blind and chest exposed, Cassandra had a perfect opportunity at its heart. Still, it wouldn't last long. The Pride demon was struggling, the ice already breaking slowly under its trashing and it was over whatever weakness the small explosion of the rift created. The other demons were also slowly recovering and will soon be all over them once more.
Cassandra didn't intend to wait and lose this opportunity. With a furious shout, she stabbed her long sword right into the demon's chest, using all her strength to break the tough skin and push as far as it would go. Thick black liquid poured from the opened slit and the Pride demon roared. The rumbling of its loud voice sounded like thunder that echoed throughout the Temple.
The warrior apparently thrust her sword deep enough. The Pride demon flailed its arms, almost tossing the small elf from its head as it struggled. Nym jumped off, right onto a Shade to pierce its chest and kill it before landing on its spot. Ice broke apart from the Pride demon's trashing, but it was in no state to fight any longer. It fell onto its back, pulling Cassandra with it, who was still holding onto her sword deeply thrust into the demon's chest. Now kneeling on top of the monster, she used all her strength to push her sword all the way in, causing more pained roaring and squirming.
"Now, finish it," Solas called out to Nym and the other elf nodded, rising his marked hand towards the fade rift once more. He felt he could close it properly now that the Pride demon was defeated. Hopefully it would banish the rest of the demons back into the fade as well.
"Help! Someone help me!"
Everyone froze in silence as they heard a voice that didn't belong on the battlefield; a voice of a frightened woman speaking in an Orlesian accent.
*Is this some kind of trick of the spirits!?* Nymrodel's long ears twitched in confusion as he listened on. He didn't recognize the voice, but for some reason it sounded painfully familiar.
On the other hand, the Right and Left Hands of the Devine recognized it immediately. After all, they heard it countless times when speaking to their employer and dear friend.
"Devine Justinia!?" Both Cassandra and Leliana called out in unison, their voices equally confused.
"Keep the sacrifice still!" A deep rumbling voice spoke in an icy-cold tone.
"Who…Whose voice is that," Cassandra demanded, but they were all baffled at what they were hearing.
"Why are you doing this?! You of all people!" Devine demanded an answer, but got none. The outrage and confusion was clear in her voice.
"Are these…memories? The fade is reflecting the memories of this place," Solas assumed, believing it was the only possible explanation.
Above them, the voice continued. "What's going on here!?"
Nym froze in place when he realized that voice belonged to him.
"So you were at the Conclave. You were with Devine Justinia in her final moments! What happened, what did you see?" Cassandra demanded in a shout, piercing the elf with her dark eyes.
"Even if you ask me that…," Nym trailed off softly. He simply couldn't remember, he wasn't lying about that. He couldn't even remember this scene displayed before his own eyes right now. It was like watching a theatre play or reading a book about someone else. The whole scene was completely foreign to him.
"Please, you must warn them! Run," the older woman yelled at Nymrodel.
"An intruder! Kill the elf!" That low voice roared angrily, completely devoid of any sympathy. It made Nym shudder. Someone was trying to kill him, but he couldn't remember who it was. Who was in that room with him and the Devine?
The vision was over as quickly as it begun, only leaving everyone more puzzled in its wake. Nym was uncertain what to make of it all, hesitating to make a move in case another memory started.
Solas brought him of his daze with impatience in his tone, "You must close the rift now! We cannot let more spirits seep through it!"
"R-right!" Remembering their purpose, Nymrodel opened his palm and used his mark to finish the job. With a sudden burst of energy, the rift imploded and closed. The great tear in the sky, however, did not disappear.
The solders around them cheered, celebrating their victory. Even Nymrodel cracked a relieved smile now that it was all finished. "Haha…We did it," he mumbled, feeling faint all of a sudden. With the mission over, his adrenaline slowly subsided and all strength abandoned him. Weakness and pain washed over his body and his vision blurred. He wasn't yet used to using that mark and it drained him more than he expected. "Finally…," he started, taking a step forward only to fall. He fell unconscious even before his head hit the ground.
"Nym!" The group called out to him in alarm as they saw the elf fall face-forward onto the hard stone.
~…..~
Nym groaned, his eyes painful from the attack of light. He blinked a couple of times, getting used to the new surroundings and trying to piece together what happened. One moment he was fighting a Pride demon and listening to weird visions, the next he was lying in bed.
Wait.
He sat up so fast he made himself dizzy. *Where am I? What happened? What was that vision with the Devine at the Temple?!* His mind raced in confusion as he tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Alas, it was in vain. He backtracked through his memories, replaying the last thing he remembered in his mind. He was fighting together with Lady Cassandra and the others before everything went black. He looked down, checking himself for injuries, but saw none. Even the bruises and scratches from the battle were gone, meaning the healers must've done their work on him while he slept.
"Ah!"
A startled yelp brought him out of his musings and he jumped, almost falling out of bed.
Nymrodel's gaze quickly fell on the one who produced such a high-pitched scream, only to see an elf girl staring at him with her jaw slack. A 'flat-ear,' some of the more malicious of the Dalish would call her, but Nym never liked using that slur. It was bad enough that other races bestowed offensive nicknames to elves, they shouldn't be doing it to each other as well.
"Your Worship, you are awake," she called out in surprise and dropped a wooden crate she was holding.
"My what now," Nym questioned, rising one eyebrow in bewilderment. He was never called 'worship' or 'lord' in his entire life. Creators, who would even worship him?!
As if not hearing his question, the elf continued to ramble. She fell to her knees as if in a presence of a High Lord or King of Ferelden himself.
Seeing one of his kind, probably a servant, bowing to him so low her forehead was touching the ground, Nym felt a rush of panic come over him. He waved his hands in front of him hastily, trying to get the elf off the floor.
"There's no need for that, please!"
"Oh, I-I'm sorry, Your Worship!"
Thinking he was upset with her, the woman started apologizing, and soon both of them were flushed as they apologized to each other in earnest. It looked like some kind of scene from an Orlesian comedy, with both of them flustered and overreacting.
Finally, he got the elf girl to calm down enough to talk to him normally, but now there was an awkward atmosphere between them. She looked like she couldn't get away from him soon enough, making him feel even guiltier. Did he do something wrong? Was it because he was still suspected of killing the Devine? *Yes, that must be it,* he sighed mentally.
"What is your name?" He hoped the introductions would relax her a bit.
"A-Athelle, Your Worship," the woman stuttered out the answer.
"Hello, Athelle. You can just call me Nym," he tried his best to give her a gentle smile, trying to hide the fact that he was probably just as nervous as she was. "Could you tell me where I am," he asked as polite as possible, not wanting to frighten the poor girl all over again.
"In Haven, sire. They brought you back after you sealed the rift in the sky. Lady Cassandra said to inform her at once when you awaken," the girl explained. She scrambled to her feet, one foot already out the door.
"Ah, wait!" Nym called out to her.
"At once she said," the girl exclaimed before she hastily opened the doors of the small cabin and rushed out.
Once again Nym was left alone with his thoughts, even more unsettled than before. *Well I can't blame her for not wanting to cross Lady Cassandra.* The warrior woman was a force to be reckoned with and her dark scowl was enough to intimidate anyone. But then he remembered how she saved him from the Pride demon. It must've been just in the heat of battle, but that didn't diminish the fact that she risked her life for his.
With a grunt, still feeling sore through his bones, Nym struggled to get out of bed. He put on the clean shemlen clothes they laid out for him next to the bed and shoes…ah, the constraining leather boots; his worst enemy so far. He never wore shoes this much in his entire life, but he had no choice here. The cold and harsh terrain of the Frostback Mountains was too much for his soles to handle. He was used to the soft grass in the Free Marches' plains, not snow and ice.
The rogue elf opened the doors of the cabin slowly, only to be greeted by a crowd of people right outside. They all gathered in front of his cabin, whispers and murmurs softly traveling across the mob. As soon as he opened the doors, all eyes averted towards him. They were all staring, expecting…something. Without thinking, Nym slammed the doors shut again, hiding back inside and leaning on the doors as if trying to use his slender body to keep them closed, just in case somebody tries to break in after him. He was panting, his eyes wide, and his mind already imagining the worst case scenario.
Cold sweat started forming above his brow. "Why are they all gathered outside of my room? Perhaps today is the day I am to be judged…Am I going to be lynched? But Lady Cassandra promised me a fair trial at least," a rush of muttered words came pouring from his mouth. *Maybe I should try to make a break for it after all? But with all these people around and surrounded by nothing but mountains for miles, there's no way I'd get very far,* he mulled over his options.
A loud knock on his doors made him jump in surprise. A muffled voice came from outside, "Your worship? The Council is ready for you at the Chantry, ser! They sent me to escort you."
And with that, all Nymrodel's thoughts of escape flew out the window, along with any chances of it happening. *I'm screwed,* he deadpanned, his expression darkening with realization. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, the elf closed his eyes and steeled his resolve. "No turning back now…whatever happens, happens. May the Creators guide me," he whispered in a soft prayer before slowly separating himself from the door. With his head held high, he opened the doors, ready to face whatever may come from the other side.
He saw one of the soldiers standing in front of him while the villagers gathered around them. "It's him." Once again, the whispers started. "He closed the rift!" "He was sent by the Maker to guide us!" "The one who pulled him out of the fade was certainly Andraste then! He wears the mark as proof." "All hail the Herald of Andraste!" People spoke among themselves, bowing their heads to the unsuspecting elf.
Even the soldier in front of him kept his head low. Nym just kept staring at them in bewilderment, unsure what he was supposed to do. Nobody ever bowed down to him, especially not shemlen. Yet he didn't feel empowered by their gesture. Instead, he was simply disturbed by it all. It just felt….unnatural.
"Oh, so now they like me," the elf muttered in irony, finally understanding the situation.
"Follow me, Your Worship," the soldier called out and started guiding him down a small path covered in snow.
Nym walked slowly after the man, his gaze timidly shifting left and right, watching the villagers and soldiers. They were all gossiping about him.
He was led into a Chantry; a building he never thought he'd step foot into in his entire life. After all, what business would a Dalish elf have inside a Maker's institution? The clerics inside would consider him a savage in need of 'saving' at best.
~…..~
All the most important people dealing with the chaos that was left after the Conclave's destruction gathered in a dimly lit room inside the Chantry quarters. They stood around a large table that filled almost entirety of the room, a massive map of Thedas covering it.
When the doors opened, they were greeted by a peculiar guest, one who would be the furthest from one's mind when thinking about someone named 'Herald of Andraste.' For starters, he was a Dalish elf, the proof of it shown in the soft brownish tattoos gracing his pale features. 'Blood Writing,' as most humans called them. They started at the tip of his nose and branched out on his forehead, while more subtle lines appeared beneath his eyes, along his cheekbones. One who knew more of Dalish culture would note it was the symbol of the Great Protector Mythal, the Dalish All-mother and goddess of love. Framed by his vallaslin were two large eyes as blue as crystal-clear ice, almost sparkling from their brightness. Even so, they didn't make his gaze cold or unapproachable. Instead, there was a softness in his eyes. Complemented by his pale skin and clear eyes, was the short messy hair which was as white as snow. The elf looked rather young, his face a bit child-like or even girly with such soft features, but the air around him suggested he was far more mature than he appeared. His body was slender and lean, but hardly thin. It was well-defined for his stature, with wiry muscles rather than bulky ones. He was lithe and about as tall as Leliana, but his body was taut, obviously trained for battle; to move quickly and stealthily with ease.
"He is younger than I expected," the human man in the room commented in slight surprise.
Nym's eye twitched in irritation. He knew he appeared younger than he was, but he hated being reminded of it. The others in the Clan sometimes teased him for it, calling him 'baby-faced,' so he was rather sensitive about the subject.
"I am 21 years old and I am fully an adult," he muttered, slightly offended, but trying to pretend he wasn't sulking about it.
Cassandra cleared her throat as if to break the atmosphere and get on with the introductions. "May I present Commander Cullen, leader of our forces," she gestured at the man who previously spoke. He was large and imposing, wearing heavy armor with fur gracing its collar. He literally looked like a knight in shining armor with those blond curls.
The man chuckled at the grandstanding. "Such as they are…we lost many soldiers at the Conclave," he sighed, his smile replaced by a frown.
"And this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," Cassandra continued. The young woman was a picture of dark beauty, with tanned skin and chestnut-colored eyes. The dress she was wearing seemed a bit over-the-top with how shiny and puffy it was, but it was probably the latest fashion in Orlais. Nym was never one to follow on what was fashionable in various lands, but he wasn't one to judge either.
The woman gave him a small polite bow. "Andaran atish'an," she greeted.
He was taken aback by this. He didn't expect to hear the language of Elvhenan from shems and inside a Chantry no less. "You speak elvhen?"
The ambassador gave him a sheepish smile, "You just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid."
He smiled brightly at her. Even if it was just one phrase, she went out of her way to greet him in a language of his People. He knew she did it out of respect for him and not mockery, so he greatly appreciated the gesture…even though her accent was a little off. "Ma serannas," he thanked her respectfully. "It is comforting to hear my own language in these times." *When I'm cut off from my own People and Clan,* he continued in his mind. "It is a pleasure, Lady Montilyet," he tried to greet her as politely as possible, trying hard not to offend with any gesture or word. He even made a slight bow with his head, mirroring what she did a few moments ago.
The dark beauty looked pleased with him as she smiled back, and Nym wrote it as a 'win' in his mind.
"And you have already met Sister Leliana, of course," finally the Seeker gestured at the last person in the room. The redheaded woman Nymrodel fought alongside only hours ago.
"My position here involves a degree of-," the redhead started, spinning her words and clouding them in mystery.
Unfortunately, the mysterious feel was broken as soon as Cassandra cut her off, "She is our spymaster." As bold and upfront as always.
Nym couldn't help but feel a bit amused when he saw Leliana's disgruntled stare towards her friend and colleague. "Yes…Tactfully put Cassandra," she commented with obvious sarcasm.
"It is an honor to meet all of you. Although…I am still a bit unsure why I'm here," Nymrodel started, his gaze traveling from one person in the room to the next, looking for answers from them.
The humans looked at each other as if having a mental conversation that only he couldn't hear. Just as they were about to start their explanation, the door burst open. In came a cleric with two solders by his side. Nym remembered him as chancellor Rodrick, the one he met previously that day when they were on their way to close the Breach. Rodrick wanted to evacuate and pull back, but in the end he was overruled by Leliana and Cassandra. Nym instantly stiffened, sensing trouble. The way his luck worked lately, this had to be something involving him.
"Chain him! I want him prepared for travel to the Capital for trial immediately!" The man pointed at the elf, practically sneering at him.
Nym's gaze darted to Cassandra; after all, he was her prisoner and she also told him before that he would stand trial. Will she let him be taken away, then? His big eyes must've looked pleading because she instantly stood between him and the chancellor.
"Disregard that and return to your posts," she ordered the soldiers. Without a second thought, the men left the room. As soon as they were left alone once more, Cassandra continued, "The Breach is stable but still a threat. I will not ignore it." The two glared at each other for a whole minute.
"You walk a dangerous line Seeker. Are you willing to risk your reputation...your life for this elf? For a criminal?" Rodrick refused to back down.
Nym felt anger rise inside of him. His fists clenched as he gave the cleric a defiant stare. "This elf has a name," he spat out. "I did everything in my power to close the Breach, it almost killed me. In the vision it was clear that there was someone else who attacked the Devine. So why am I still a suspect?" He was trying to stay as collected and reasonable as possible, but he was sick of being treated like a common criminal even after doing nothing but helping these people.
"What vision? More convenient lies I say," the man barked back.
"It is true," Leliana interrupted them. "Someone the Most Holy did not expect was at the Conclave. Perhaps they died with the others…or have allies who yet live," she gave Rodrick a knowing look.
"Me? Now you're accusing me?!"
"You and many others," the redheaded spy responded.
"So the mark on his hand, his involvement at the Conclave…all a coincidence," Rodrick asked sardonically.
"Providence. Perhaps Maker sent him in our darkest hour to guide us," Cassandra countered.
Nym stepped back. "Wait a second. What are you saying now!? I am not some chosen prophet of the Maker." He shook his head strongly, wanting to deny all of it.
Cassandra stepped towards him, almost pushing Rodrick away in the process. "You saw the people outside. They call you the Herald of Andraste. They believe you were chosen by Andraste to save us from the Breach…to fix this world."
A rush of words came out of Cassandra's mouth, but Nym could hardly hear any of it. He was in complete state of shock; confused and dazed. It was getting hard to breathe.
"Blasphemy!" The chancellor's sudden shout brought the elf back to reality.
"It is true that the Chantry has denounced us and all of these claims…they are calling you a false prophet," Josephine interjected with a troubled expression.
"I don't want to be a prophet, false or true!" Nym wouldn't have any of it.
A sudden thud made him jump and he realized Cassandra had slammed a thick book down onto the table. It bore a mark of the Chantry; a symbol of the sun. "You all know what this is; a writ of the Devine, granting us authority to act! As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn!" She walked towards the chancellor making him pull back in fear, "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible and we will restore order. With or without your approval!"
Nym could see the man was left speechless, intimidated by Cassandra and with nothing left to say that would sway her determination. Shaking his head, he gave one more dirty look to Nym which the elf returned before leaving the room and slamming the doors behind him.
"So it has begun," Cullen broke the silence as he gazed down at the thick book.
Leliana nodded. "This is the Devine's Directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos."
Josephine sighed, "But we are far from ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."
"Yet we have no choice. We must act now, with you at our side," she turned towards Nymrodel. "You have already become a symbol whether you like it or not."
The elf's lips tightened in a thin line as he thought. "I don't know about all this speech of Andraste and the Maker…but I don't want this Breach in the sky any more than you do."
"Then help us, before it is too late." Cassandra offered him her hand.
Nym stared at it for a while before he made his decision. "I don't know anything about divine providence or whatnot. To be honest, I don't really think it was the Maker who sent me here. But I want to help and hopefully that is enough. Not just for my sake, but for my Clan as well. If I leave now, the Chantry or others who still think I'm guilty might follow and attack…I would be putting my Clan in danger then, so I can't return. Besides, if I turn my back on the world, I wouldn't be able to face the Keeper and the rest of them," he smiled faintly. With that, he took Cassandra's hand into his and they shook hands with a firm grip.
He will need to write to the Keeper and tell her of everything that happened. That thought brought a whole new set of worries, *Oh damn, she must be either furious or crazy with concern right now! Knowing her, it's probably both. I need to contact her and the Clan…perhaps Lady Montilyet could help with that.*
As if he voiced his worries out loud, the ambassador spoke, "It is a pleasure to have you with us, Master Lavellan."
"Thank-," he started when he suddenly stopped and went rigid. "Wait, how do you know my Clan name? I never told you from which Clan I hail," he eyed her suspiciously.
"Actually, a letter came to us by raven while you were resting," she admitted with a smile. After rummaging through her papers, she finally found one small thin parchment and handed it to the elf.
Even before reading its contents, he recognized the handwriting instantly. "It's from Keeper Desha! Um, I mean, Keeper Istimaethoriel," he corrected, trying to sound more formal and less as an excited child. Yet he simply couldn't hide his glee since he got news of his Clan.
"It seems they are worried we are keeping you here as a prisoner," Josephine stated. "Perhaps you could write them back so they know you are here of your own free will. We can send one of our elven runners if that would make your clan more comfortable," she suggested.
Nym was hardly listening to her as he read through the letter. Ironically, if he was asked if he were a prisoner here only an hour ago he would probably say yes, but now things have changed. He truly decided to stay here at Haven. He needed to remind himself of the great tear in the sky to motivate himself into staying, because reading the Keeper's letter made him more homesick than he realized.
Nymrodel always loved exploring new things and places. He was curious since birth, the elders of the clan always said that of him. He lived for adventures, but he loved his Clan as well. Adventures were all good and exciting, but there was also something comforting in the knowledge that at the end of the day he could return back to his Clan. Sit around a warm fire with the ones he called family and listen to Keeper Desha's stories. Ever since his immediate family died in his early years, his Clan was everything he had. It was home.
Realizing he was completely involved in his own thoughts, he quickly pulled himself back to reality. "Of course, Lady Montilyet, I'll write a letter and give it back to you. Perhaps your people could send some supplies back to the Clan…as a sign of good faith," he proposed.
"That is an excellent idea. I will see to the arrangements," Josephine smiled.
"Perhaps this would be a good time for Master Lavellan to rest and gather his thoughts, then. We can proceed with the war council once the preparations for establishing the Inquisition are complete," Cullen suggested.
"You know, calling me Nym is just fine," the elf smiled nervously. All this titles like 'ser,' 'master' or 'herald' were starting to make him anxious.
"Master Nym, then," Josephine suggested. Only Leliana, her old time friend, noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes as Josephine purposely, yet discretely teased him.
Nym almost choked on air. "That's not quite what I meant…," he started but felt too defeated to argue further.
~…..~
"So I hear you're some big shot of Andraste now. Be sure you don't forget the little people on your rise to the top," Varric joked as he joined him. Nym was just heading back towards his cabin when the dwarf intercepted him.
For a second, as he gazed down at the dwarf, Nym wondered whether the 'little people' part was an intentional, yet cheesy joke or not. He sighed, "You know what they say; the higher you climb, the further you fall. So I'd rather stay right here on the ground," he gave his new friend a toothy grin.
"Smart man," the dwarf smirked.
They walked together through Haven and Nym tried his best to ignore all the stares directed his way. They were different than before, when the villagers of Haven watched him follow Cassandra as a prisoner. At that time most of them wanted to execute him on the spot, yet now he could see those same people watching him as if he was a walking miracle. Oh, how easily a person's heart can change.
"So tell me…now that we're alone and Cassandra is out of earshot; How are you holding up?" Varric continued, "You go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."
Nym was taken by surprise by his question. It's true, he had been through a lot lately, yet Varric was the only one who actually asked him how he was doing through all of this. Since all this started, nobody asked him what he wanted or how he was handling everything. He knew such thoughts were childish since they all had more important problems to address, but he still greatly appreciated that Varric took the time to show concern. He felt grateful to the man, for this small kindness the other showed him. He opened his mouth to respond, only for a loud rumbling sound to cut him off. The elf flushed bright red, feeling hot from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach sounded loud enough for even passersby to hear. That's when Nym realized he hadn't eaten anything since before the Conclave. Until now, so much happened that he couldn't even think about food, but now that his adrenaline has faded, his body was loudly protesting such careless treatment.
Varric laughed loudly, even more amused by the flushed expression Nymrodel showed. "I didn't think you'd answer me with your stomach." His laughter finally died out to small chuckles. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before he led the elf to the Haven's Tavern called the Singing Maiden. "Come on Snow, let's get you fed."
"Snow?" Nym questioned as he followed after the dwarf. He would follow just about anyone right now if they promised him food. He was starving.
"Yeah, cause you're all white. I bet if we tossed you here in the snow, you'd blend right in. We wouldn't even be able to find you," the dwarf teased him light-heartedly.
"That…could be pretty useful actually," the elf tilted his head in thought. "Good for camouflage," he joked.
The two chatted cheerfully on their way to the Tavern.
Glossary:
Evanuris lasa ma enansal - Creators bless you! (literally; Creators give you blessing)
Andaran atish'an - Enter this place in peace. A formal elven greeting.
Ma serannas – My thanks/Thank you.
Thank you all for reading! See you in the next chapter!