He was alive. That part was nice. Maybe. Vathran stood, and heard a gasp from somewhere behind him. He turned to see an elven serving woman, who immediately started apologizing. He got out maybe two words in response before she fell to her knees. All he could do was stare.

Her words registered. He'd been unconscious for days and Cassandra wanted to see him as soon as he woke up. The woman practically scrambled out the door, leaving him alone in the room.

Slowly, he took a deep breath, then another. A nearby chest contained gear, both his and some sort of ornate armor that was... He examined it. Apparently sized for him, and placed on top so he'd see it first. He shrugged, and put it on before heading out of the building.

Everyone was staring. It wasn't the first time he'd been stared at when entering a human dwelling area, but this was... None of the looks were hostile. Some of them were even bowing as he passed. What exactly had happened in the last three days?

Finding the Chantry wasn't difficult. It was the only path open to him that didn't involve pushing his way through the crowd. He heard arguing, and stopped just outside the door. Cassandra, it seemed was now arguing on his behalf. He took one more deep breath, and opened the door.

#

Vathran looked over the camp. He'd not only joined a human organization, but apparently one dedicated to the Chantry. And he'd failed his mission. There was no sign of Quiyala or Sulana. Breaking the news to his father was not going to be easy. He took a deep breath, and walked over to Cassandra. "Where do we go from here?"

"Follow me." She gestured at the chantry.

#

"The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all."

"I didn't ask for this..." Vathran shook his head at the other elf. He may not have asked for it, but it was an opportunity. Just a decade ago, an elf had ended a Blight. If another elf could close the Breach, then maybe... "But someone has to find a way to seal this Breach."

"Spoken nobly indeed." Solas inclined his head. When Vathran narrowed his eyes, Solas shrugged. "You think I'm mocking you. This age has made people cynical." He walked a few paces, looking out over the camp. "I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams off lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

"The kind who makes the world a better place." This was an opportunity he did not intend to pass up.

"It isn't always that easy..." Solas turned towards him. "But I wish you luck." He nodded again. "I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed."

"Was that in doubt?" A chance to make things better for elves, and he'd been considering leaving?

"I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

"We still need you." Vathran looked out over the camp. "I wonder if it grates at them, needing elves? One of them an apostate." He shook his head.

"An interesting thought." Solas turned his eyes back to the Breach. "For now, let us hope either the mages or templars have the power to seal the Breach."

#

"Mother Giselle?" It had to be her, tending to the wounded.

"I am." She rose, and turned toward him. "And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

He nodded. "I'm told you asked for me." A ranking mother of the Andrastian Chantry had asked for him. It was a strange feeling.

She gestured for him to walk with her. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it." She sighed. "Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us..."

Two of his clan's best had died there. "What happened was horrible."

Vathran listened as Mother Giselle laid out what she wanted from him. Go to Val Royeaux, and at the very least, convince some to doubt. To consider the option that he was what they claimed, a messenger from the gods. And she would do all she could to help. He smiled, and looked around the makeshift refugee camp. In the meantime, there were people here in need of help.

#

"The rams should keep them fed until we can get more supplies brought in." Vathran checked the reclaimed arrows. The shaft of one was beyond repair, but the arrowhead was salvageable. He glanced at Varric. "You're not bad with that crossbow."

Varric gave the crossbow a look that was frankly, just a little disturbing. "Bianca knows her trade."

"Let's fill that soldier and let him know the location of those caches." He sighed, and turned towards Cassandra. "Do you think the Inquisition has sufficient forces to deal with those rogues?"

"I do not know." Cassandra looked around. "We lost many at Haven. It may be defending the camp is the best we can do right now."

"Alright." Vathran nodded. "Maybe it's time to head in to Val Royeaux."

#

It went both better and worse than he'd hoped. The templars put in an appearance, but turned against the Chantry. Unfortunately, he was unable to sway them into joining the Inquisition. The Lord Seeker fellow seemed to be taking this opportunity to build his own power base.

Grand Enchanter Fiona, however, seemed amiable to a conversation. She was going to want to negotiate, clearly angling to give mages an advantage. He couldn't blame her. If it was another elf who brought the mages into an alliance... Heading to Redcliffe seemed like a good idea.

And in the meantime, he'd see what Orlais's First Enchanter wanted. And whatever the red handkerchief thing was.

#

He stared at the elven woman in front of him. "And is my being elfy a problem, exactly?"

"Look, the important thing is you glow, right? You're the Herald thingy?" Sera gestured.

"Yes, fine, whatever, I glow. What is this about?" He glanced over his shoulder at the others, but they were clearly as confused as he was.

"No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners." Sera shrugged. "My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

Vathran blinked. "Elves?"

"Ha. No. People people. Name's Sera. This is cover." She pointed. "Get round it."

"What?"

Sera rolled her eyes. "For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed." She waved her bow. "They've got no breeches."

#

"Are you insane?" Vathran slung his own bow over his shoulder as soon as the last one fell. "Why didn't you take their weapons?"

"Because no breeches." Sera cackled. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."

"I'm a strange one?" He turned to face her. "Who even are you?"

"It's like this." Sera gestured wildly as she spoke. "I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me." She aimed a thumb at her chest, then shrugged. "Well, I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'Friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you." She held up her bow. "Plus arrows."

"I..." He waved a hand. "Yes, whatever. Leliana can figure this out." He pinched the bridge of his nose as she wandered off, talking about selling breeches. "Mythal ma ghilan. Let's go see what this First Enchanter wants."

#

Watching the First Enchanter verbally castrate the man who had moments ago been threatening him was rather satisfying. She turned towards him as the marquise ran out with his tail between his legs, and gestured for him to follow her. "I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

"Charmed, Lady Vivienne." He bowed as he'd seen the nobles do.

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the chateau for pleasantries." Vivienne nodded to him. "With Divine Justina dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

The Enchantress of the Imperial Court? This was... He nodded. "The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne."

"Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that."

#

Vathran went to report back, only to find Leliana's agents had already done that. "I think the mages are our best option. The Grand Enchanter was certainly friendlier than the Lord Seeker."

Neither Cassandra nor Cullen were particularly pleased by that, but Josephine and Leliana seemed happy with the decision.

He was heading out of the Chantry when Leliana caught his attention. It seemed the Grey Wardens were having difficulty of their own. And since he was on his way back toward the Hinterlands anyway...

No sooner had he exited the Chantry than he was stopped again, this time by a mercenary whose captain had apparently arranged a demonstration of sorts. He had... He gave the mercenary another look... Her mark the map for him.

#

"I should like to know if anyone here has treated you unkindly, Herald." Josephine smiled up at him. "For being an elf."

Most had been polite enough. "I can deal with a few whispers and sideways looks."

She made a disapproving noise. "I shall speak with the staff regarding such conduct." She folded her hands primly and set them on her desk. "If we're to convince the world that Andraste's Herald is an elf, the Inquisition must give you its utmost support." She sighed. "Stories of 'wild Dalish elves' have grown even more outrageous as people learn of you."

His fists clenched, and he forced them to relax. "The humans telling those tales are the first to take a knife to someone with pointed ears. My clan's defended ourselves against them more times than I can count." The memory tried to come back to him, and he forced it away ruthlessly.

Her eyes widened. "Really? I..." She shook her head. "Had no idea. I will do what I can to end the slander, Herald." She started to look down at her desk, then looked back up at him. "It may help if I know more about how you and your clan lived."

Vathran shrugged. "Getting up before dawn to fish, constantly mending wagons and tents, spending days on the hunt..." He chuckled. "I still can't believe city dwellers have food delivered straight to their doorsteps."

"Really? I never considered it extraordinary." She sat back in her chair. "Haven is so far away from home. You must miss the people of your clan."

He missed them all terribly, especially his family. Turana would likely have grown several inches by the time he saw her again. "My father is the Keeper. The leader of my clan." He looked down at his hands. "He sent me here with two others. Quiyala was the clan First, his apprentice. And Sulana was one of our best warriors. I haven't yet figured out how to tell him..." He sighed. "I should. I'm going to have to at least let him know I'm alive." He looked down. Turana would be worried about him.

"I am so sorry, Herald." She patted his hand gently.

"I do miss them, and wonder if I will see them again." He would have to go home eventually. But here, he could do more good than he could with his clan. Elven heroes were needed. "Though if I'd never left home, Josephine, I never would have met you." He gave her a small bow. "And that would be a tragedy."

"What? Really, there is more to this, Master Lavellan." She shifted some of the papers. "Whatever comes, your role as Andraste's Herald will mark your clan in history."

An advantage he could not even begin to pass up. "Elves have been swept under the rug or worse, rarely acknowledged as part of this world." He smiled. "This is our chance to be a force no one can ignore."

Her smile was warm. "History should look out. I believe you will succeed." She inclined her head gracefully. "Thank you for your time, Herald."

#

"Are you from an alienage?" Vathran fell into step with Solas.

"No."

"Then where are you from?" Vathran gave him an odd look. "What made you start studying the Fade?"

Solas shrugged. "I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic." His voice took on an odd tone, as Quiyala's so often had when she talked about magic. "But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined."

He continued talking, and Vathran found himself shaking his head. "The only reason you live your life is to be able to see more of the Fade?"

"Yes." Solas's voice was fairly blunt.

"That's no way to live."

"You train to flick a dagger or an arrow to its target. The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit." Solas shrugged.

"And you study alone?"

"Not at all." Solas waved a hand as he spoke of spirits and nonsense.

"Okay." Vathran held up a hand. "When I asked if you were with anyone, I meant other people."

"Ah. 'People,' as opposed to spirits. We are flesh and blood, so we are real."

"Exactly." Vathran nodded.

"Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and his wit?"

"They're not defined by their bodies, but they do have bodies." Vathran shook his head again. "You need one to be a person."

"A demon possessing a corpse has a body." Solas raised an eyebrow.

"A living body."

"A demon possesses a living mage to become an abomination."

"They didn't make that body. They just took it over."

"Technically your mother created your body, with some help from your father, one assumes."

Vathran glared. The man was nearly as bad as Quiyala had been. "You've thought about this."

"On occasion, yes." Solas shrugged.

He sighed, and searched for another topic. "I'd be interested in your opinions on elven culture."

"I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture." Solas looked him over, his eyes lingering on the vallaslin. "You are Dalish, are you not?"

"Yes, I am." Vathran's eyes narrowed. "The Dalish are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people."

"Our people. You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more..." Solas shook his head. "But the Dalish have forgotten that. Among other things."

"Oh, but you know the truth, right?"

"While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not."

"Fen'Harel ma ghilana. Fine. You think we're terrible. What about the alienages full of elves who aren't Dalish?" He waved a hand at where Sera was talking to Varric. "Why not take your knowledge to them?"

"Why? What would it benefit some poor man in a Fereldan alienage to learn that his ancestors strode the land like gods?" Solas clasped his hands behind his back. "It would only make him bitter, or inspire him to take a foolish risk and get himself killed."

"You've decided his reaction for him." Vathran folded his arms.

"Perhaps I have." Solas sighed. "If you have questions and believe the answers will help, ask."

"I find I'm no longer interested in the opinions of some..." Vathran waved a hand dismissively. "Seth'lin who can't even tell the difference between a spirit and a person." He started walking again, uncertain of when exactly they'd stopped. He didn't bother to look to see if Solas kept following.

#

Vathran walked back over to Cassandra, and then glanced over his shoulder at the mercenary company. "I'm not sure how to put this, but..." He gave her an apologetic look. "I just recruited a member of the Ben'Hassrath."

"You..." Cassandra blinked. "Did what?"

"Well, would you rather him..." Vathran raised an eyebrow. "Or someone who isn't willing to share information?" He shrugged. "I think the fact that they care enough to 'infiltrate' our ranks is actually a good sign. It means we are more than can be safely ignored."

"True." Cassandra nodded. "And Leliana may be able to make use of him."

"My thoughts exactly." He took a deep breath. "Alright, let's go see if we can find those missing soldiers."

#

He looked around the remains of the camp. Despite his hopes at settling the matter peacefully, the 'Blades of Hessarian' had fought to the death. All because he hadn't gone hunting deepstalkers to make some kind of amulet. "What a waste." He sighed. "At least the area will be safer for our soldiers now."

#

An attempt to speak with Sera left him with nearly as big a headache as the attempt to speak with Solas. He made a mental note to ask Leliana to lock up the wine cellar when Sera was around. Hopefully, she'd sober up. Vathran glanced over his shoulder. She had to be drunk. The alternative was she'd been dropped on her head. Repeatedly.

#

"Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"

And meeting up with a Warden ended in them being attacked by bandits. Vathran was starting to think the Inquisition needed to change its sigil to a giant target. The man knew nothing. But he was willing to fight, and in Ferelden, being a Warden counted for a great deal indeed. "The Inquisition is happy to have you, Warden Blackwall."

#

He watched the soldiers practicing. Many were ex-templars, like their leader. Some were clearly veterans of other fighting. And some had to be shown which end of a sword to hold. The part he liked is that there was no small number of elves among them. Elves among the runners as well, not just among the servants. It raised a possibility.

Vathran started back into the Chantry only to have Josephine stop him. "My Lord Herald, we received a message from your clan." She bit her lip. "It seems they are concerned we are holding you prisoner."

"Ah." Vathran nodded. "I was hoping the letter I sent would reach them before..." He sighed. "We will need to get that clarified soon. I was thinking..." He went silent.

"My lord?"

"I was wondering if I should send for Turana."

"Turana?" Josephine raised an eyebrow. "Your wife?"

"My wife died a few years ago." Vathran closed his eyes against the memory, then reopened them to see Josephine giving him a concerned look. "Turana is my daughter. My father has been caring for her, but..." He looked back at the camp. "This place seems safe enough for a young elf." He gave Josephine a small bow. "Thanks in no small part to your efforts."

Josephine gave him a delighted smile. "Oh, of course. I can arrange for an envoy as soon as you wish."

"Thank you, Josephine."

#

Solas didn't like Iron Bull. Or Vivienne. Which, in Vathran's opinion, said good things about their characters. He fell into step next to Vivienne, and inquired about the mage circles and the Grand Enchanter. Any information could be helpful. Vivienne was willing enough to speak, and her opinion of the Grand Enchanter seemed low indeed.

There was a rift in front of the gate to Redcliffe.