Mostly safe for work, just some very strong language and violence.

The Inquisition goes to the Storm Coast! Miriel has never seen a Qunari before.

Offensive

Miriel had been excited to see the coast, she had fond memories of the sea breeze in her hair high up on the cliffs near Wycome, but this…this was nothing like those beautiful memories. The sky was a mottled grey, with only a few streaks of sunlight bursting through. Though that light only illuminated the same greyish tones in the sea and beach. The grass and trees were a rich green, the only real color to the entire landscape except for the occasional jutting pink Spindleweed sprouts. Add to all of this a steady rhythm of rain and a wind pattern that felt like it couldn't make up its mind, and you had a very terse and irritated elf.

Miriel trudged down the bank, grimacing at the feel of pebbly wet sand digging into her feet. She was used to nice, refined sand, not this rocky shite. Miriel's attentions quickly shifted from the sand to the sounds of battle emanating from further down the bank. Her ears twitched and she launched herself across the sand, barely noticing the biting sand.

Her bow was out, arrow notched by the time she reached the battle. Darkly robed Tevinters were combating a well-equipped and skilled mercenary company lead by a hulking brute of a man with…were those antlers? This must be Bull's Chargers, Miriel thought as she raised her bow and fired an arrow directly into the skull of one of the Vints. Her fellow companions quickly entered the fray, assisting the Chargers despite the company looking like they had everything under control.

Solas put up a barrier around Miriel just in time for one of the warriors to charge her, sword raised high and ready to strike. She spun out of the way and brought her bow up, firing one arrow, two, three into his body. Knowing he was dead, she turned her focus once more to the main group of Tevinters who were now down to a mage and a remarkably elusive warrior. Cassandra shield bashed the mage and the soldier Miriel had spoken to back in Haven, Cremisius, removed the mage's head. The warrior dashed around the battlefield, somehow evading arrows. Solas froze him just as the large Qunari, whom Miriel presumed to be the Iron Bull, brought down his gigantic hammer, eviscerating the poor bastard.

The Qunari let out a loud roar of triumph before turning to address his company.

"Chargers, stand down! Krem! How'd we do?" The man asked. Miriel ventured closer to make sure she was seen and she slowly began to feel rather…small.

"Why is everyone so…tall?" She murmured.

"I think it has to do with what they eat," Varric replied. Miriel nodded and shrugged, it was good as an explanation as any.

"Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead," Krem replied.

"That's what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up, then break open the casks," the leader said excitedly. Krem nodded, his formality keeping him from grinning ear to ear. As Krem walked away, Miriel strode forward.

"So you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it, here, have a seat. Drinks are coming," he smiled and Miriel returned the expression…as she looked up and up and up. He was a great hulk of a man, all grey skin with a litany of battle scars old and new. His face was equally scarred and it possessed the only hair on his body. He was so thickly muscled that his head appeared tiny, even though it was probably twice the size of hers. She wondered if all Qunari had to have thickly muscled necks to support such large antlers. Did all Qunari have antlers? If so, were the antlers always this big? Were they bigger? Smaller? Curved differently?

"That was an impressive display back there, you and your men handled them well. I hear you're looking for work?" Miriel said, still trying not to overtly stare at his antlers, or his eyepatch, or his pectoral muscles (Elgar'nan, a single one was bigger than her head!).

"I am! But not before my drink, though," he jerked his head to the side before moving towards a large log that was thankfully situated away from the majority of the bodies. He has pointed ears, like an elf….a really giant, grey, antlered elf…with an eyepatch…and no shirt…and billowy pants.

"I presume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," Bull gestured to the approaching man. The lieutenant stood tall, all formal before Miriel.

"Good to see you again. Throat cutters are done, Chief," he said.

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem."

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts one up on you Qunari, right?" Krem sassed Bull and much to the Qunari's credit, he took it in stride with an eye roll and a smirk.

"So…you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it…and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

"How much are we talking about?" The Inquisition was barely up and running, it wasn't like they had much gold to spare to begin with.

"It wouldn't cost you anything personally, unless you wanna buy drinks later. You Ambassador – what's her name – Josephine? We'd go through her and get the payments set up. The gold will take care of itself. Don't worry about that. All that matters is that we're worth it." He kept saying that, and while the Chargers seemed quite capable…there were other merc bands who worked for less. Are they as good, though? That was the kicker.

"The Chargers seem like an excellent company."

"They are. But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a frontline body guard, I'm your man. What ever it is – demons, dragons? The bigger the better." He stood up and passed her, forcing her to step back and cant her head even further back.

"And there's one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

"Oh you're shitting me! You're part of the Ben-Hassrath?" Varric suddenly asked from his hanging back position. Miriel's brows furrowed in confusion.

"No…what is the…Ben-Hassrath?" She stumbled over the word and her nose wrinkled at the sound.

"It's a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies basically. Or well…we're spies. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what is happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people." Wait what?

"You're a Qunari spy, and you just…told me?" That made no sense. Weren't spies supposed to be conniving and sneaky and not giant, hulking, and admitting they are a spy? It made no sense. This is what the Keeper meant when she said the Qunari were backwards.

"Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"You still could have hidden what you are," Miriel countered, still not over the shock of him saying he is a spy. How does he sneak around with those big feet? I could hear him a mile away!

"From something called the Inquisition? I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me."

"What would you send home in these reports of yours?" What exactly made up a spy report? Today the Herald of Andraste took a shit and then didn't give a shit when someone told her she had to represent the Chantry?

"Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart." Invasion to keep the world from falling apart? How did that make any sense? An invasion would be chaos.

"Ah yes, the infallible Qunari logic – invade and subjugate the people, that will solve the problems." Solas sneered derisively. The Iron Bull looked over to where the elf stood, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest, eyes glinting harshly with judgmental annoyance. But Bull took it in stride, turning his gaze back to Miriel.

"You let me send word of what you're doing, it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone." Bull explained. Solas made no sound but his scowl remained and Miriel had to wonder why exactly it was the Qunari irritated him so.

"What's in these Ben-Hassrath reports you're offering to share?" She asked.

"Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It's a bit of everything. Alone, they're not much. But if your Spymaster is worth a damn, she'll put 'em to good use."

"She?" How much did this man already know? If he knew about Leliana…well shit, man really was a spy.

"I did a little research. Plus, I've always had a weakness for redheads." He laughed and Miriel took a deep breath. Pros, he was big and could fight, and Sylaise knew they needed manpower. He also brought along an obviously well-trained and disciplined company. There was also more information…though that was more of an exchange that led to more personal cost to the Inquisition than the Qunari since she wasn't gaining any information about the Qunari themselves while the Qunari was gaining direct information about the Inquisition. That was a major, the major, con. What if the repots didn't settle minds? What if it made them worry and restless? Was there potential for the Qunari to be unsettled by what Miriel already believed to be huge differences between the Qun and the Dalish? All she knew about the Qunari was that they mistreated their mages by cutting out their tongues and stitching their lips shut. It was disgusting and abhorrent. Especially since she herself came from a culture where being born as a mage was an honor since it meant that you were thought to have a closer bloodline to the elves of Elvhenan.

Yet Bull seemed like a decent fellow. If he was not bad…how could the Qun be bad? He is a spy! This is how he is sneaky! That actually made a bit of sense. Pretend to be good but all the while an agent for destruction? Logical.

"Could you give us a moment to decide, Iron Bull?" Miriel asked hoping that it wasn't rude to ask this of him.

"Yeah, take all the time you need," he said before walking off to join his men by the casks. Miriel signaled for her own group to gather around her.

"Okay, what does everybody think?" She asked.

"You're asking us?" Cassandra asked and Miriel nodded.

"I know next to nothing about the Qun. Varric, you seemed to be familiar with the Ben-Hassrath, what do you know?"

"I know that they tend to speak in overly complicated metaphors and don't like to tell you the truth straight. If they lie, it's by omission." Varric's eyes continually shifted, trying to get a better look at the Qunari. She was unsure if it was because he was nervous around the man or just trying to make sure he got the description in his notes correct.

"So they're squirrely." She clarified.

"Basically."

"Solas, you also seem to know something about it." He had been quick to dismiss the help on the basis of the Qun. Such a strong reaction was an indication of knowledge, yes?

"You want my recommendation? Refuse. We do not need the help of the Qunari to defeat this threat, not at the potential cost." Though he didn't specific what he perceived the cost to be and he seemed ill-content to continue to speak on the matter.

"And how do we know we won't need them, Solas? And besides, it is only one Qunari." Cassandra reasoned. This was true…how much damage could one Qunari do?

"I am fairly certain the Iron Bull counts as at least three Qunari," Varric said. Miriel had to agree, the man's sheer size afford him battle maneuvering none of them would ever be capable of.

"Also, I cannot continue to be the only one taking the blows at the fore. Another front person would be very much welcome," Cassandra admitted. Miriel took a deep breath and assessed the situation once more before coming to a decision.

"Iron Bull?" she called as she walked over.

"Yeah?"

"All of your reports will have to be reviewed by Leliana, and nothing gets back without her approval. Your operations cannot interfere with ours – and if that does happen, you're out on your asses. All of you." She explained. She attempted to make her face stony and her voice harsh. She had never been in any real position of leadership before. Hunters hunted in equal pairs and while she was the most successful Hunter in the clan, she was by no means the Senior Hunter who organized them. This whole leading business, then, was new and she had no clue if she was doing it right.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!" Bull shouted happily. Several of the men raised battered mugs in a cheer, ale sloshing over the edge just before they drank deeply.

"What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes." Krem said.

"Find some way to seal them. You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic."

"Up on the hill is the main Inquisition camp, feel free to camp there, just don't get any of the on duty soldiers drunk, please," Miriel request. Bull turned to her.

"Wanting to put me to work already, Boss?"

"Please," Cassandra interjected before anyone else could say anything.

"Great! I didn't get my full workout today anyways." Bull walked over to where his maul was still resting the sand and hauled the great weapon to where he could carry it across his shoulders as they traveled the beach.

"So you're Dalish, right?" And the spying begins, Miriel thought as she skipped a little ahead of the group as Dalish Hunters do.

"Yes," she answered. Solas's reaction still plagued her. She wondered if the Qunari were cruel to elves that would make Solas so quick to be derisive of them.

"I've got a Dalish in the Chargers. Your Vallaslin kinda makes you stick out."

"Says the man with giant horns," Varric commented.

"Dalish elf. Not just Dalish. We are Dalish elves," Miriel corrected.

"Well, Dalish kinda implies the whole elf thing so-

"We are elves. We never forget, why should you?" She had whipped around, her eyes blazing with purpose as she stared at the behemoth of a man. Her Mohawk was pulled back into a pony tail today, making her eyes even more prominent in relation to the rest of her face than usual. Standing there, with jutting ears, bare feet, and her dark Vallaslin, she looked like the fierce Dalish huntress she was. And she felt damn good about it too.

"Okay, Dalish elf. I apologize if I offended," he conceded and she relaxed her stance. Her eyes returned to their natural playful light as she turned back around.

"Your ignorance is not offensive if you work to remedy it," she explained.

Hanging back from the group, Solas watched the exchange with an odd wistful expression.


They group soon ventured into a cave only to be greeted by giant skittering spiders. The fight was quick with Varric and Miriel pelting the creatures with arrows as Solas froze them and Cassandra and Bull cleaved into their bodies. Bull ended up moving around the field of battle and by the end he was standing by Miriel. His chest heaved out with his deep breathing and that just made him seem even bigger.

"Creators, you're big," she commented before realizing what she just said. Shit, was that insulting in his culture? She seriously had no idea. Much to Miriel's relief, the man just laughed and nodded.

"Yeah! The Qun doesn't breed us small."

"The Qun is your…god?"

"Uh, no. Qunari have no god or gods. The Qun is…" he grunted or sighed, Miriel couldn't tell, "it is a set of sacred, or something like that, rules and ways to live your life. The Qunari abide by those rules and refer to it when living their lives." Bull explained

"So it's like a religious text without having a god? That is…certainly different," Miriel tried to wrap her head around it but it was just…a completely foreign concept. How does one have religion without a deity? How does a culture transfer its rules of spiritual guidance without the spiritual guide? It made no sense.

"Herald, is this the first member of the Qunari you have met?" Solas asked and Miriel blushed.

"Is it that obvious?" She asked, lips tilting into a rueful smile.

"Yeah, I knew right away. It's okay though, we're not exactly common down south."

"I have heard of the Qunari but never thought I would actually meet one…may I ask you a question?" She was so curious about his antlers. What were they for? Could they feel?

"Sure." He shrugged, his weapon bobbing comically with the gesture.

"Your antlers…do they all grow like that? Do they feel? Do the women have them? Do you bang them on doors and ceilings a lot?" She asked and he laughed.

"Okay, for one, we call them horns, not antlers," he answered and she blushed. "Second…no, different people grow horns differently. And not all Qunari have them. No, they don't feel. Women can have them, yeah. And all the damn time," he answered.

"How do your people put on shirts?" Solas asked from the rear.

"We don't usually. It's pretty hot where we come from. But I can get into anything with a loose collar, just gotta ease one horn through and then angle it up. There's a term for getting caught unprepared that translates to 'running around with clothing stuck on your horns'."

"Colorful." Solas replied as they exited the cave. It was the early afternoon, Miriel thought, though it was difficult to tell since all of the light was consistently diffused through the clouds. As they stepped back onto the beach, the hairs on Miriel's neck stood on end and her stomach churned. Ears twitching and hands gripping her bow, she listened and she looked.

"We're being watched, or we're about to be attacked," she said low. Bull didn't change his posture…much, but she saw his hand tighten around the haft of his weapon, ready to swing it into action if need be. Casandra not so subtly unsheathed her sword and raised her shield. Varric cocked Bianca and Solas drew up a barrier around them all as they walked down the bank. Miriel's eyes darted between the cliffs and the beach, uneasiness filling her as she saw there was no cover whatsoever for them, but a multitude of hiding places for those who wished to prey upon them.

It she were with the clan, even with this many hunters…they would turn back and they would inform everyone to stay clear of this region. The desire to run and escape this place was undeniable and she felt her legs somewhat unwilling to venture forth with the rest of her companions.

"We should turn back, find a different route," she whispered, longing for the cover up on the cliffs.

"This was part of the patrol of the other soldiers, tracing their steps is how we find them," Cassandra said, advancing her position.

"We are sitting ducks out here," Miriel murmured.

"I agree with the Herald. We have no defensive position, no other means of defending ourselves from ambush other than our weapons while our opponents have the advantage of the land and their weapons. It is a recipe for a disaster," Solas supported Miriel and she nodded her thanks.

Bull suddenly held his hand up, indicating the need for silence as he scanned the area, listening intently. Miriel gazed up the cliff and saw movement, a bright flash of blue among the green along with the telltale glint of a weapon. Without even thinking she let loose an arrow. A scream echoed from the cliff just as men and women burst forth from behind rocks, down from the cliffs and from further down the beach. There must have been at least forty of them, all charging with weapons raised high. Their shouts bounced off the cliffs and Bull roared in response, loosing his weapon to spin a deadly arc, crushing enemies in a single sweep.

As many men Cassandra shield bashed and cut, as many as Varric and Miriel punctured or Solas froze and Bull raged against, there was an unending tide of them and soon the group was being pushed back into the cave.

"Fall back!" Miriel cried, but it wasn't until Iron Bull grunted and turned that they all began to run through the cave, back down the beach and fled into the foliage of the nearby cliffs. They practically threw themselves up the rocks and bush, seeking a place to hide from the horde of very angry men.

"There!" Miriel pointed to a small area where the leaves and bushes would hide even Bull from the onslaught. They dashed into the cover and stayed there for several minutes, breathing heavily as they listened for the sound of following footsteps. When she was sure they were safe from the marauders, Miriel sighed.

"Fen'Harel's balls, that was close." She muttered. Solas whipped his head to her but she was already standing up to walk away.


Walking the beach was no longer an option, there were simply to many of them and not enough of Miriel and her crew to lead an assault through the soggy sand. So the intrepid group took to the cliffs. Had Miriel wanted to traverse the cliffs before? Really? Because it was not going smoothly to say the least.

"I hate….this….fucking….terrain!" Miriel growled as she tried to scale another piece of slick rock and failed…again.

"Da'len, I am sure there is an easier way, perhaps a path-"

"No. I am a Dalish hunter, I can climb any damn thing I want. And there could be more of them along a path." She argued stubbornly.

"C'mon, Boss, we can take 'em." Iron Bull goaded.

"Might I suggest a nice pair of climbing boots, Herald?" Cassandra offered, which only garnered the confused stares of both elves.

"Shoes?" Miriel asked.

"It's not even snowing." Solas commented. Cassandra gave an exasperated sigh.

"I don't even know why I bother." The seeker muttered as Miriel resumed her efforts to climb the cliff, to no avail.

"By the Dread Wolf's hairy arse, fucking rocks! UGH!" She huffed angrily.

"Excuse me?!" Solas said instinctively. He had restrained himself, just barely, before but the suddenness and the blatant incorrectness of the statement had caught him off guard.

"You know, Fen'Harel, Dread Wolf, scary piece of shite just like the FUCKING ROCKS. And this FUCKING rain! And those fucking bandits!" She bemoaned the area. Solas opted to ignore her comments about himself, it wasn't her fault that the Dalish were ignorant of the past.

"I am familiar with him, yes." He said dryly.

"Well, then I am using his name to curse, and maybe scare these rocks into fucking submission." She slipped again. "DREAD WOLF'S BALLS!" Solas's mouth at this point was just a singular terse line while he watched the Herald to continue struggle against the rocks.

"Oh Dread Wolf take you! Fucking rocks!" Ah, more Dalish curses. Lovely. Truly, where would he be without hearing such wonderful oaths born or ignorance and denial of history?

"Fine, we take a path…but we're going to get ambushed again." She turned from the rocks and slipped down the incline, landing none too gracefully on her rear end at the bottom. She was muttering more curses to herself, Solas was sure, and she was most likely a fuming angry mess at the moment, but watching her slide down and like that was probably the funniest thing he had seen since…since he had woken up. With a small smile and a shake of his head, he followed the troop through the woods and up a Cliffside path.


It was dark by the time they found the Inquisition soldiers. They were all dead, murdered by the Blades of Hessarian then left in the crumbling hut that was most likely the sight of their torture. It was a messy sight, blood everywhere, faces twisted in screams of anguish. Their bodies mangled and bloody were left out as a deadly warning to the inquisition.

Miriel had grimaced at the sight but had closed all of the soldiers' eyes, whispering elven words to them, calling Falon'Din to usher them well to the land of the dead.

"They were Andrastian, how do…how do you perform funerals in your religion, Cassandra?" Miriel asked softly, her voice emanating a quiet rage.

"These men were Ferelden, they burn their dead," Cassandra answered, walking around to observe the carnage.

"Looks like our boys were murdered by a group calling themselves the 'Blades of Hessarian.'" Bull sighed as he looked at papers on a nearby table. Cassandra's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Hessarian was the magister who killed Andraste as she was burned. The Blade of Hessarian represents mercy," Cassandra thought out loud. Miriel finally stood and shook her head.

"Nothing about this says 'mercy'. Bull, is there anything that says where these Blades of Hessarian are?" Her voice had taken on a razor sharp seriousness.

"Further along the beach, at least a five hour hike with this weather." Bull rubbed his face, as he peered at the map, looking for an alternate route. Cassandra joined Bull at the table, leafing through documents.

"Look here, it appears we can challenge their leader," she handed the document over to Miriel, who read it quickly and shook her head.

"Where are we going to get a deepstalker hide for this amulet?" Miriel asked, she didn't even fully understand what a deepstalker was. All that she knew was that it was clearly a creature that lived in these parts, but she had never seen or much less killed one.

"And why wouldn't we give them the same kind of mercy they gave our soldiers?" Bull asked, his tone grim. Solas awaited Miriel's answer, wondering what she thought of the matter.

"As much as I want payback…if we can show them a better way, we can gain more control over this area, ensuring that they do not deliver such mercy upon anyone else." She answered softly. Solas did not show any outward emotion, but internally found her wisdom refreshing. She sighed and stretched her back.

"Let's build the funeral pyres then find a place to set up camp, we can decide what we want to do about the Blades of Hessarian in the morning." With that plan in place, they gathered enough wood (mostly thanks to Bull who was big and strong enough to pull branches down) to build a pyre for the bodies. Cassandra presided over the event, whispering kind words that Miriel hoped the soldiers' souls appreciated as they were ushered to their Maker's side. Miriel wished their journeys well and hoped their Maker welcomed them.

After the fire died down, Bull led the group to a small grove he had seen earlier that wasn't too far. The grove was small though and only had room for two tents and a fire. Cassandra, Varric, and Miriel took one tent while Bull and Solas took the other. Solas offered to take first watch, as he usually did, so as to dream as uninterrupted as possible later in the night. They ate their meal in quiet, either too tired to talk or the disturbing image of the butchered bodies of their soldiers burning too hot in their minds to make polite conversation.

Miriel retired to her shared tent after eating, feeling the exhaustion of the day. Sleep however, was elusive with Cassandra's surprisingly loud snoring. Apparently the woman had become congested from all the humidity. If they had been in her clan, Miriel would have gently propped the woman's head up with a small pillow to help her breathe and alleviate the snoring, but Cassandra was very not Dalish and they were all very clearly away from clan Lavellan. Miriel tossed, turned, and tried to sleep, but alas she could not. With a silent, but still equally exasperated harrumph, she left the tent.

The mugginess outside was not nearly as bad as it was during the day, and the chirping of insects in the dark provided some semblance of familiarity. The fire illuminated Solas's face in an odd warm glow. His eyes seemed to be deeper in his skull, surrounded by shadows while his cheeks appeared shallow. He held a book in his hands, probably something related to the Fade or spirits or whatever else he liked to research. So as not to startled him, Miriel strode calmly and quietly to sit next to him. Despite her silent stride, Solas didn't seem surprised when she sat down next to him.

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly, still reading.

"Cassandra's snoring is preventing it, yes." Miriel yawned and stretched her neck, wincing at the muscle strain still present there. "Fucking rocks today, my entire body is one giant muscle strain." She rubbed her neck, but then realized her feet were probably the worst of it. She reached down and slowly began to massage her cramping feet. She winced again, tomorrow is going to hurt.

Solas's eyes, as usual, moved sideways to watch Miriel. The firelight was kind to her form, and her movements were graceful as ever, even in her evident exhaustion. He watched her try to ease the knots out of her muscles, taking in her winces of pain. As he watched her, he found himself wondering when he had switched from watching the Anchor to simply watching her. He had been so concerned on how she could potentially affect the Anchor, potentially abusing the power she literally held in the palm in her hand. But as they traveled together, as he watched her make decisions and speak about her beliefs…how was a Dalish girl with one of the foulest mouths he had heard outside of a tavern full of mercenaries was also one of the wisest and most conscientious and kind people he had met in the modern age?

After several moments, he abandoned all pretense of trying to read his book and turned towards her. "Why do you hide your wisdom?" He asked softly. She raised her head and gave him a perplexed look before answering him in an equally soft tone.

"I don't hide it, people just refuse to see it, usually because of some physical attributes – ears, tattoos, breasts. Take your pick. Nobody expects me, a female Dalish hunter with extensive tattoos, to have an ounce of wisdom, so when I speak and do things wisely, they think it's a fluke. When people finally realize it's not a fluke…well, they're still shocked because they are still allowing such superficial shit interfere with how they perceive me." Her words sunk into him as he realized that she was kindly telling him that he had allowed to be misled by her appearance.

Her gold eyes were sharp in the firelight, and Solas found himself smiling. She was right, he had assumed she would need an exceptional amount of guidance because of her Dalish heritage, because surely a Dalish could never show a degree of the wisdom once possessed by his people. But here she sat, confident and wise enough to know that she was chronically underestimated. It was the downfall of her enemies, both on the battlefield, and in diplomacy.

"I suppose I could swear less, but honestly, I just like doing it. I mean, 'fuck' just sounds so right. And 'balls', 'balls' is a great one." She grinned at him, mirth dancing with the firelight in her eyes. He found himself wanting to roll his eyes in response, so wise, yet so vulgar. But he played along, finding himself wanting to engage in this ruse with her less and less, dangerous.

"I prefer 'ass' myself," he decided to indulge her. He was not particularly fond of using such language, but he figured that this would help bolster his ruse and distance 'Solas' from Fen'Harel. At his words she grinned mischievously as she arched a brow.

"I bet you do," she teased suggestively. His brow furrowed in confusion before he realized what he said.

"Oh now, that is not what I meant, and you know it," he defended but she just batted her long lashes at him feigning innocence.

"Do I know? I am, after all, a simple little Dalish girl," Miriel smiled slyly and Solas had resist smiling himself at her antics.

"If that is so, then I am a quaint herbalist," he replied and her smile grew dark.

"They'll never see us coming, then." He found himself returning her smirk. No, da'len, they never see me coming.

After that they fell into a companionable silence, with him reading his book and she working out her sore muscles. He would occasionally chance a glance over at her, watching as she leaned against the log, legs stretched out. She was seemingly done with stretching and was watching the stars, long lashes casting dramatic shadows against her cheeks. She appeared golden in the light with her warm tanned skin, long blonde hair, and bright eyes.

It was close to the end of Solas's watch when he heard a faint snort come from the other end of the log. He looked over to see a sound asleep Miriel. She was in a semi-sitting position on the ground, slumped over the log with her head resting on crossed arms. Mouth slack and hair draping over her arms, Miriel was hardly a sleeping vision as she snorted again and then wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. Solas shook his head and went back to his book, waiting for Bull to take over his watch.


Morning brought aches, pains, and more annoying rain. Miriel had been awake for some time, taking the last watch, when the others began emerging from their tents. Bull and Varric looked haggard, as if they had gotten no rest, while Solas and Cassandra appeared to be having difficulty shaking off sleep. If Solas had hair it would have been sticking every which way, just like Cassandra's. Miriel had them sit around the fire, handing them cooked eggs, gathered berries, and dried meats they had packed with them for breakfast. As they ate, they planned what they were going to do about the Blades of Hessarian.

"If there is a chance at getting through this with minimal bloodshed, I say we take it." Miriel said as she bit into her jerky.

"There is a cave to the north of the previous camp, I bet there are deepstalkers there, and we can probably cut down walking time if we walk on the beach instead of the Cliffside," Bull offered, his own mouth full of egg and jerky.

"The beach provides little cover, we would be open to attack once again," Solas countered.

"We need to make better time than yesterday, that is for certain," Miriel explained. Solas shook his head but Cassandra scowled.

"The longer we take, the chance for more Inquisition soldiers to be taken grows, we need speed, Solas." Miriel nodded in agreement with Cassandra.

"We walk the beach, and," Miriel pulled her pack over to her, reaching in and pulling out a pair of odd leather booties, "these will help if we are forced into the Cliffside again." Much to Solas's shock, Miriel began to pull on the booties.

"Finally she sees wisdom," Cassandra commented dryly. Miriel stood up and shuffled her feet, trying to get used to the odd feeling of shoes. She had worn them infrequently while with the clan, only putting them on during the colder months. It was hardly cold on the Storm Coast, but she recognized the indefinite need for the uncomfortable shoes.

"Are they not uncomfortable?" Solas asked and Miriel nodded.

"Yes, and I will probably have blisters later, but we need to deal with these Blades of Hessarian as soon as possible. Comfort and pride will only delay and endanger us," she stated plainly. Bull nodded approvingly and then they began their trek through the Storm Coast once more.

With the aid of the booties, they made good time. They reached the caverns holding the deepstalkers and slew the disturbing creatures quickly and without ceremony. Miriel skinned the buggers in record time, harvesting and drying the skin to patch into the necklace. The group killed about twenty more of the Blades before reaching their dank smelling camp full of barking dogs and shifty looking people. Miriel displayed the Crest to the guards at the gate who just gaped at her.

"It's the Herald of Andraste! Come to challenge the leader?"

"No one has succeeded before."

"Do you think she'll win?"

"I bet you a sovereign that the boss'll win. Just you watch."

"I pray that Andraste guides us right."

The humans eyed her with suspicion and she smiled at the scrutiny. Just like when she was with the clan. At the far end of the compound sat the leader of the Blades of Hessarian. A large unwashed human clothed in patchwork leathers sat on a chair made of animal bones, wood, and poorly tanned leathers. Shameful work, Miriel thought as she approached the man who appeared to be picking something out his teeth. Ew.

"I presume you are the leader of the Blades of Hessarian?" Miriel asked. She managed to keep her voice steely and cold even while she wanted to retch from the smells emanating from the sties in the compound.

"And you're the pansy Inquisition. You dare challenge me?" He demanded and this time Miriel actually flinched. Not because the man was imposing or anywhere close to being intimidating but because by the Creators, his breath. Ugh, dragons' breath smelled better.

"You will regret coming here, Herald!" The man cried and began to charge. Solas brought up a barrier while Miriel jumped out of the way. Bull countered the man's sword, forcing it to the ground. Before Cassandra could bring down the killing blow, Miriel flicked a dagger to the man's skull. The oaf slumped to the ground, the life already absent from his eyes. Cassandra looked up to Miriel, her mouth a firm unhappy line.

"I had everything under control," the seeker said and Miriel nodded.

"Yes, and I helped."

"You stole her kill, Boss. Not cool," Bull shook his head and Miriel's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"She had him and you just threw a dagger and took that special moment away from her. You stole her kill," Bull explained.

"Oh…sorry?" Miriel offered, shrugging her arms with hands out as a 'oops' gesture. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, it's done." The woman huffed and Miriel shrugged before turning to the shocked looking Blades of Hessarian.

"You actually beat him!"

"Told you she would!"

"You owe me a sovereign."

"Shut up! Let the Herald speak!"

"Herald of Andraste, we now serve you and your Inquisition. We may command our forces however you see fit," the lieutenant, or at least she presumed he was the lieutenant, said. He bowed low and averted his eyes from hers. The other Blades also bowed…sort of. The people were clearly uncivilized to the point where they didn't even know how to properly bow, just sort of awkwardly lean forward, shaking a bit.

"Wait, so you're seriously okay with me just killing your former boss and swearing allegiance to me?" Miriel asked, confounded.

"The man was a bastard."

"Yeah, a real grade A dickhead."

"Total twat."

"Good riddance!"

"This is our way, Herald. We are your blade now," the lieutenant continued as the crowd began to grow. Miriel looked at them all and sighed.

"Shems are fucking weird," she muttered as she was lead off to discuss the best assault options for closing the nearby Rifts.


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