Finally, chapter two! I'll try to get the update up in a more timely fashion next time. Hope you like it!


When Jethann woke, he was lying in a comfortable bed. He didn't open his eyes, letting himself pretend for a brief moment he was back at The Blooming Rose. But daydreams did no one a service, so he gave it up and decided it was time to get up.

The pain from his rib was gone completely, but it was replaced with a myriad of other aches. He groaned slightly when he sat up, rubbing his eyes and realizing there was a girl in the room with him.

That was about when she realized he was awake, and she dropped her box with a scared "Oh!"

"Hey there," he said, smiling. She was obviously nervous, so he was trying to put her at ease. It didn't seem to be working.

"I didn't know you were awake, I swear!" she said quickly.

"Calm down," he replied, staying still where he was. "I don't know why you're so jumpy around me. I'm just an elf, like you."

"That's wrong, isn't it, I said the wrong thing," she gushed, wringing her hands.

"Hey, hey," he said, as soothingly as he knew how. "It's okay. I've seen you before, haven't I? Weren't you serving at the Conclave before everything went to shit?"

She blinked at him in surprise. "You remember me?"

"You were the cute little serving girl who brought me some bread," he said, nodding as he remembered. "But you ran away before I had a chance to thank you."

"You…want to thank me?"

"You were kind before all these people knew who I was," said Jethann. "And besides, where am I? What are they saying about me?"

"You are back in Haven, my lord," she began.

My lord? He wasn't having that. At the look on his face her voice petered out.

"I'm a prostitute," he said. "I'm a prostitute who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm no lord."

"I beg your forgiveness and your blessing," she said, stumbling over her words. "I am but a humble servant."

"You've missed the point, I think," he sighed.

"They say you saved us," she said. "The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the past three days."

"Three days?" he said. "That's a long time to be asleep. Have you been taking care of me that whole time?"

She looked up nervously. "Adan and I have. He's the apothecary. He's not very nice to me, but he isn't nice to anyone, so it's fine."

"Thank you for making sure I didn't die in my sleep," he said. "So, everyone thinks I'm their savior?"

"I'm only saying what I heard. I didn't mean anything by it." She paused and added. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra will want to know you've awakened. She said, at once."

"Where is she?" he said, looking down at the ridiculous beige pajamas they'd put him in. He didn't have much else to wear, and they seemed warm. Not very flattering, though.

"With the Chancellor, in the Chantry. At once."

"Have a good day," he called after her. She stopped at the door and gave him a shy little smile.

He picked up the box she'd dropped. There were some herbs in there, obviously meant to treat him with. Unsure if they were important, he pocketed them and left the little house he was in.

The sun stung his eyes, and he shielded them with his hand, only to see a line of people making a path for him. What the girl had said- that everyone was talking about what he'd done at the Breach- it hadn't occurred to him what that meant.

"I'm not important," he wanted to tell all of them. "I don't matter. It was them, Cassandra and the others. I hardly did anything."

When he began to walk down the steps, he heard someone whispers, "That's him. That's the Herald of Andraste."

Those words sent a chill through him unlike any he'd ever felt. This was a joke, right? No one could possibly be looking at him and thinking he was any kind of herald of anything, let alone Andraste! The crowd continued to murmur as he walked through it, and he didn't look at any of their faces. He didn't know what to say to these people. A week earlier most of them would have been pretending he didn't exist.

"Maker be with you," someone said to him, almost reverently, and he felt his face warm up. He nodded in that general direction and hurried out of the crowd.

He was supposed to go towards the Chantry. He walked quickly, avoiding any people and doing his best not to even hear snippets of conversation, because most of them seemed to be about him. When he finally reached the big wooden doors it was with a sense of relief.

It faded quickly, however, as he heard Cassandra and Roderick arguing from inside the private rooms once he was in the Chantry. Nervously, he knocked on the door. The person who opened it was an armed Templar.

"Ah," he said. "Hello."

"Chain him," said the angry Chancellor at once. "I want him prepared for travel to the capitol for trial."

"Disregard that. Leave us," countered Cassandra. Jethann wondered which they would do. Thankfully for him, they left.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," said the Chancellor.

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it," she replied, frowning.

"So I'm still a suspect," he said. "Haven't I convinced you that I don't have the skills to pull something like this off, even if I wanted to?"

"You absolutely are," said the Chancellor.

"No, he is not," Cassandra said. "And he wouldn't be even if he hadn't convinced us that he is no fighter."

"That's right," said Chancellor Roderick. "He's a common whore. You could find a knife-ear on the corner of any street in an Alienage and slap a mark on them, and they'd be as good as he is."

"Show some respect," said Cassandra, clenching her fists.

"That's not true at all," said Jethann, internally pleased with Cassandra's reaction. "I'm told I have very unusual coloring. Not at all usual to find someone with hair as red as mine."

"He mocks us even as we talk," said the Chancellor in irritation. "This is an insult to us all, least of all the Chantry."

"Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave," said Leliana, bringing the conversation back to its roots. "Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others- or have allies that yet live."

Jethann did not miss the look she cast the Chancellor. Neither did he.

"I am a suspect?"

"You, and many others," said Leliana. Jethann knew he would never want to get on her bad side.

"But not the prisoner."

"I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help," said Cassandra.

"So his survival? That thing on his hand? All a coincidence?"

Jethann had to admit, it seemed pretty nice of Cassandra and Leliana to just trust him like this. He probably wouldn't if he was in their position. He'd never let them know that, though.

"Providence. The Maker sent to him for help in our darkest hour."

When Cassandra said that, he turned to her in disbelief. "You think that too? I know people are saying that they- but you're reasonable, you can't honestly believe that I'm sent from the Maker."

"The Maker does as he will," said Cassandra. "It is not for me to say."

He shook his head. "That's just too much. He's basically telling the world to fuck off if he's sending me. And as much as I appreciate the idea, no one will want an elven prostitute to be their guide or whatever it is you think I am. It's…it's absurd."

He bit his lip. He was probably not helping his case to say all that, but had been nagging at him ever since that girl had called him 'my lord.'

"The Breach remains, and your mark is our only hope of closing it," said Leliana. "Whether you're chosen or not."

Jethann wondered where Varric was. He'd have a reasonable opinion on this, surely.

"This is not for you to decide," said Chancellor Roderick, beginning to turn a bit sweaty and red as he realized this was not going the way he wanted.

"You know what this is, Chancellor?" said Cassandra, motioning to a large book with what Jethann was fairly sure was the Seeker symbol on it. "A writ from the divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the breach, we will restore order, and we will do it with or without your approval."

Chancellor Roderick stormed out, but Leliana paid no heed. "This is the Divine's directive. Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos."

"We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support."

Jethann sighed. That was his fault. Cassandra saw him and sent him a questioning glance, but he looked away.

"But we have no choice: we must act now. With you at our side," finished Cassandra, looking at Jethann.

"Me?" he said. "What can I do? You saw my fighting skills. I don't have any."

"You have potential, even if you don't see it," said Cassandra, cracking a smile. "And we do need you."

"And if I decided to leave?" he said.

"Where would you go?" said Cassandra pointedly.

Jethann opened his mouth in indignation. "Don't treat me like I have no options. We all make choices whether or not to do something."

"You're right," she said. "That was uncalled for. If you wish, you can go. However, many people believe you are still guilty, and the Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us."

"We can also help you," added Leliana.

"It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you," said Cassandra.

He almost retorted angrily to that, but she was right. He couldn't pretend it hadn't. At the very least, he had this stupid mark on his hand. Had to do something about that.

"When I woke up I certainly didn't picture this outcome," he said, more quietly than he meant.

"Neither did we," said Leliana.

"Help us fix this before it's too late," said Cassandra, offering her hand. Jethann took it clumsily. Her hand was warm and calloused, rough around the edges with hard work and years of swordplay. His was soft and pale in hers, fingers still cold from the outdoors.

Just like that, he was in the Inquisition.


They'd given him food and clothes and told him to come back to the Chantry in a few hours. Jethann couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to take his time and look around any of the places he'd been to in the past two years. He'd seen some of the worst barns, stables, and inns in the Free Marches and Ferelden and was unsettled by the idea of being able to relax and explore; he'd normally spend the day soliciting and seducing, trying to earn enough to pay for his room and board.

Where to go first? He wanted to go to the fire, as the beige clothes they'd put him in weren't really very warm, but he saw a couple Chantry sisters who looked like they were discussing something important. He didn't relish the idea of going near them, so he strolled down the path, shivering slightly.

He approached a man in standing in front of some wares, planning to ask if there was a tavern nearby. He was cute enough, Jethann thought, although his nose was rather large. The blonde hair was nice if you went for the Ferelden aesthetic.

"Ah, you're awake and out of Lady Cassandra's clutches," said the man. "And I slipped that…ah…young elven lass…good coin to tell me when you came back to us."

Jethann snorted. "That's most definitely not what you were about to call her. Do you think I'm stupid?"

He coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm not used to-"

"Treating an elf like an equal?" said Jethann, raising an eyebrow. If these people wanted to call him their Herald, they'd better get used to what that meant.

"That's not what I meant at all, beg your pardon," said the man, staring somewhere past Jethann with decidedly red cheeks.

"Fine," said Jethann. "You have my pardon, for now."

"Seggrit," introduced the man. "Honored to meet you. Thank you for all you've done, and hopefully, will still do."

Jethann rubbed his left foot against his right ankle anxiously. "Yeah, I'll do my best and all that. Not really used to this sort of thing."

"I doubt anyone would be," said Seggrit.

"So you sell your wares here, is that it?" asked Jethann, leaning over and examining what looked like a warm fur-lined set of gloves. He sighed longingly and searched his pockets, realizing someone must have taken his money and put it away somewhere.

"Oh, shit," he said. "My coin's gone. I'll have to come back later."

Seggrit leaned forward slightly, lowering his tone. "You know, there's a rumor going around Haven that you're, ah, a man of the night."

Jethann looked up from his search for coin. "So you're calling me a whore behind my back, is that what you're telling me?"

Seggrit realized the trap he'd fallen into, but Jethann silenced him before he could half-ass an apology.

"It's fine," he said. "I am a prostitute, yes. I don't lie about who I am. Life's too short to stress too much about how others view you, that's what I've always said."

Seggrit gestured to the gloves. "I was thinking, since you don't have any coin on you, and you look pretty cold, we could make an exchange here. I'll give you these gloves and a whole matching outfit extra if you let me take you behind that cart over there and show you my manhood."

Jethann laughed. "You just want to show it to me, huh? You can be clear with me, honey."

"Fine then," said Seggrit. "I'll take you back there and fuck you hard, and in return you can get some warm clothes. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me," he replied, winking. Those clothes were probably worth three rides with him at his old Rose prices, but he wasn't about to let Seggrit know that.

Seggrit recruited some friend of his to watch his stand and pulled Jethann off with him, a rather harsh grip on his arm pulling him forward to the cart he'd mentioned. He didn't even hesitate as he pushed Jethann against the stone wall, making him brace his hands against the ice that coated it, back facing Seggrit.

"You certainly don't waste time, do you?"

He shivered when Seggrit unceremoniously pulled his trousers down to his knees, baring him to the cold air.

"Not trying to interrupt your fast and furious flow you've got going here," he said. "But could you get some sort of lube? Smooth this process?"

"You don't get to make the demands here," said Seggrit, smiling at him for the first time since he'd dragged Jethann behind this cart.

Ah. One of these kinds of men. Jethann spread his legs and braced himself. Seggrit was better than his word and did the bare minimum of preparation. That, and he was quick. He didn't make Jethann pretend to be aroused as he pounded him into the stone wall, Jethann's fingers turning red from cold and his cheek getting scraped against the ice.

When he was finished he pulled back, a smug look on his face. "Stay here," he practically ordered. "I'll get you those clothes I promised."

Jethann wiped himself with his sleeve and pulled his trousers back up, standing by himself in this dingy little forgotten place while he waited. It was several long minutes before Seggrit returned, and he seemed to get a perverse kind of joy out of how miserable and freezing Jethann was.

"Thanks, hun," he said, refusing to be cowed by the obvious superiority kick Seggrit was getting out of this. "I'll be off then."

The clothes Seggrit handed him before returning to his stall were warm and thick, perfect for the weather. It was good for moving quickly in, Jethann thought as he changed behind the cart, glad to have something that he could fight in (since it seemed he'd be doing more of that soon, whether willing to not).

Didn't look bad on him, either, he thought as he twisted his head and checked out his rear. Nice snug fit. He wanted to clean off and ditch the old pajamas they'd put him in, so he headed back towards the little house he'd woken up in.

On the way there he stopped and noticed a small inn that he'd failed to notice earlier. He must have been so dazed with everything that was happening that he'd missed it; very unlike him. He entered it, shoving the beige pajamas into an open barrel on his way in.

He took a deep breath as he was met with the aroma of boiled stew and the stench of unwashed and drunk soldiers. Not entirely pleasant, but familiar. In this new world where people treated him with respect or fear, familiar was good.

He still didn't have any coin though, so there was no point in staying. He turned to leave when he heard a woman say, "Oh, Maker, you're him! You're the Herald of Andraste."

"That's what they've been saying, yes," he replied, walking up to the counter she was standing behind. Probably the owner, judging the clothes and the fact that she wasn't being openly ogled.

"And you were sent to shame us for mistreating the elves," she said, eyes wide with fear. She was a pretty woman, with nice brown hair. Sensible clothing, too. The kind of woman who'd have served drinks at the Rose, saving herself for the one she'd loved. The servers had lived in a different world than Jethann did.

"I pay my elves good and proper, you should know. Friend of the Alienage and all, and all…" she said, trailing off. "I mean, I'm Flissa. Can I get you a drink?"

"I haven't lived in an Alienage since I was eleven years old," he said, leaning on the counter. "And you say you pay your elves good and proper huh?"

"Uh," she said. "Yes. Not like the others do. Some of the others, I mean. I'm not trying to get anyone into trouble."

"When you say good and proper, do you mean the same wages as the humans?" he asked, half curious, half annoyed. "Because where I'm from, an elf working hard labor on the docks got a third of the pay a human did for the same work, and the human didn't have to get called knife-ear and 'simple' the entire time."

She hesitated. It was enough.

"Friend of the Alienage," he said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously."

She stared at him, speechless. Her cheeks were reddening. He took pity on her and added, "No drink for me, thanks. I think I need a nap."

He needed a bath, more like. His cheek was stinging from where it had scraped against the rough wall and his legs and ass ached. He didn't know if he'd be able to get one, but he could try. As he began to leave, he thought of something.

"Flissa," he called. "Since I'm the Herald of Andraste or whatever, do you think I'd be able to find someone who could get me some supplies?"

She flinched. "There's Threnn. She's the Requisitions Officer. She can find you anything you need." Flissa described Threnn quickly, and he vaguely remembered walking past her earlier.

"Good," he said, leaving the inn. He needed makeup. His face hadn't felt so bare in a long time. Without a little concealer and the like, it would quickly become obvious that he wasn't a young man anymore. And with the rate things were going around here, he'd probably end up losing a lot of sleep and getting dark bags under his eyes, if he didn't already have them.

He took a detour from his nap to go find and talk to her. He waited awkwardly in the snow as she finished talking to some man and turned to him with an air of impatience.

"If you're here to clean, Hess can get you a bucket or a broom," she began swiftly, obviously having said it before. "Anyone calls you knife ear you come to me."

"How kind of you," he said dryly.

"Oh. You're him. Threnn," she said, introducing herself. She was a hard woman. Probably an ex-soldier. He'd seen quite a few of these kinds of women at the Rose, but not in the four years since then- women like her didn't pick up traveling, low-class whores like he'd become. "Inquisition quartermaster. I'm doing what I can to supply this mess."

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "How's everything going?"

"Good day. Or good as it can be with the sky ripped apart. You're part of the Inquisition now?"

"Apparently I am," he replied. "I agreed to it anyway."

She then explained how to fill requisitions. When she was done, he smiled as charmingly as he could. She glared at him suspiciously.

"So how does one end up as quartermaster for the Inquisition?"

"I served Ferelden under Teryn Loghain Mac Tir," she said, back straightening with pride and expression hardening. "Best commanding officer this world has ever seen. But when they all turned on him at Denerim, there wasn't much use for those that held that opinion. Queen Anora sent me here out of kindness."

"Loghain? I've heard of him. Didn't he-"

"I was at Ostagar," she snapped. "I know what happened."

"I was going to say 'didn't he get in trouble for selling elves as slaves'?" he replied. "I find that a much bigger deal that the outcome of some battle. He's not dead though, anyway, right?"

She looked unnerved at the mention of Mac Tir's slavery connections. "He did…it didn't seem like him," she admitted. "But he did it. And no, he's not dead. Condemned to live out the rest of his life in exile."

Jethann had heard as much, even in the Free Marches. "That's not so bad, is it?" he said, remembering that he was supposed to be nice right now. "He was always a soldier, right?"

"And now he's serving some derelict order in Orlais," she sighed. "Ferelden needs him."

Jethann bit his lip. "I'm sorry about what I said before. It must have been hard for you to serve after what happened to him. But you're still brave, you know? You're still open about respecting him, even after all these years. And you still serve even when no one agrees with you."

She almost smiled before the mask slid back into place. "You think so, huh?"

"Yeah, I do," he replied quietly, hand resting casually on the edge of the requisitions table. He thought about saying something about how beautiful she was, but that would be overdoing it. "Where were you stationed before Haven?"

"Denerim," she replied. "Why are you so interested?"

"I like knowing people," he said, flicking his eyes upwards to meet hers, their gaze locked in. "I especially like it when it's you. It must be rough, coming from Denerim to here, and so quickly. Did you leave something behind? Someone?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms. "I didn't. Why, you interested? Or is what they saying about true? You trying to see if I'm lonely enough for a ride."

"I just wanted to tell you that you're not the only one who's been forced to move, and quickly," he said, smile fading. "I wasn't talking about- I was only hoping for some sympathy. I hardly have more than the clothes on my back, so I was just thinking you might understand."

He could see Threnn soften before his eyes, the line her mouth had turned into a more pleasant expression. "What is it you need?" she asked. "You're obviously missing something."

He scuffed the ground with one of his shoes. "I used to have this makeup kit- it was stolen in Redcliffe, and I haven't really felt the same without it."

"Makeup? You mean the powder Orlesian nobles and prostitutes like to cover their face with?"

"Yeah, exactly like that," said Jethann.

She raised her eyebrows. "The rumors are true, aren't they? You are a whore."

"I am," he replied honestly. "And what I told you was true. Just because I'm an elf and a prostitute doesn't mean I can't miss something…even if it is as silly as makeup."

"I can understand that. Your accent…you're a Free Marcher, aren't you?"

Jethann wrinkled his nose at the term. "From Kirkwall, yes."

"That's a long way from here."

"It is," he agreed.

She nodded sharply. "I'll get you that makeup kit. There has to be a noble's corpse or an empty estate around here somewhere. Just give me time."

"Thank you," he said, actually touched. He felt like this woman Threnn had managed to see through his coy game and was still going to help him, and that was a rare thing. That, and he found himself actually caring about her. A little bit. Not a ton or anything.

"I need to get going," he added, yawning. Now for that nap.


Sadly, the elven apostate from earlier was standing between him and the bed where he could rest his head. Jethann was sick of the cold and the confusion and just wanted to sleep. He still stopped to talk when Solas waved him down, however, and smiled with an ease and practice few had.

"The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all." Solas sounded a little more than skeptical when he said it, but he was smiling.

"Oh, that sounds fun," said Jethann. "Do I get some sort of reward at the end if I do my job right?"

"History tells us that those who looks for a reward rarely find one," said Solas.

"Oooh, thought-provoking," he replied. "But not entirely true."

Solas turned away from him, walking several steps away with a thoughtful look in his eyes. Jethann wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, exactly.

"I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of 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."

"Hopefully a living one," he said, laughing slightly even though as insides churned at the whole business.

"That would be preferable, I imagine," said Solas. He paused and added, "I will stay then. At least until the Breach has been closed."

Jethann couldn't imagine how anything he'd said had led to that conclusion, but fine. "Were you planning to leave?"

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

"Cassandra doesn't seem like a woman who'd go back on her word," Jethann said truthfully.

"Thank you. I appreciate the thought. For now let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to close the Breach."

Solas closed his mouth and nodded to Jethann, obviously done talking, but Jethann had more questions. He'd known a few apostate mages; not many, but a couple. Solas was also an elf who'd lived his life outside a city- he wanted to know about that as well.

"I have more to say," he said, loudly enough to pull Solas out of whatever train of thought he'd entered into.

"Closing the Breach is our primary goal," he said, blinking a few times as he refocused on Jethann. "But I hope we might also discover what was used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the Conclave proves that much."

"I don't know anything about that," admitted Jethann. "I can't personally see what use it would have, except maybe destroying it."

He rubbed the mark on his hand against his pants leg, as though he could scrape it off and get rid of this responsibility.

Solas frowned, obviously annoyed. "It is important, but I would not advise destroying it until we know more about it."

"Okay," said Jethann, who honestly didn't care. "Fine. You take care of that then. I was actually thinking of asking you what you know about elves."

"Oh?" said Solas. "Are you not an elf as well? Don't you have opinions to share?"

"I don't know much about elves," he said. "I've lived among humans most of my life."

"That much is obvious," said Solas disdainfully.

Jethann gritted his teeth in annoyance. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That you know nothing of the customs of your people," said Solas. "Even the mangled versions the Dalish elves claim are true."

"What's your problem with Dalish elves?" he asked, stung. He'd always admired them, from what little he knew of them. Many city elves did.

"They are children, acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times."

"And you know so much better? That's what happens when you lose your entire country and are forced to hide in forests to keep your culture," said Jethann defensively.

"I have walked the Fade," said Solas. "I have seen how incorrect their interpretations are."

"They're trying," said Jethann.

Solas sighed. "I expect too much of them, of course."

Jethann failed to see why the Dalish needed to live up to this one mage's opinion of them, but he wasn't going to say anything. He'd learned long ago that sometimes you just let things go.

"What do you know about us, then?" he asked. "Elves who live in cities."

"The culture in alienages or among the slaves of Tevinter is like any of the impoverished and powerless. They cling to memories of a better past and practice a few rituals to distinguish themselves from humans."

"Can't argue with you there," said Jethann, because agreeing was easier than defending the pride of a people he'd been long distanced from.

"And you?" said Solas. "You said you've been living among humans for a long time. I assume you don't even do that much?"

Here was that attitude again, the same one Solas had given him when they'd been on their way to the Breach before. Jethann rolled his eyes. "Oh, excuse me if I'm not as much as an elf as you think I should be. If I suffer the same slurs and bullshit as other elves, then I am one. The pointed ears agree with me."

He waved his fingers in goodbye and walked to the door of the house in front of it, fairly sure it was the house where he'd woken up. He opened the door and discovered it wasn't.

"Oops, sorry," he said after he'd poked his head in.

"Look who's back from the dead. Again," said a man with robes and a beard.

"Do we know each other?" said Jethann. It was entirely possible. He'd known a lot of people.

"You were passed out last time we talked. Not particularly coherent. I patched you up after you stumbled out of Maker-knows-where, though, so you're welcome."

"Ah," said Jethann. "Thank you, then. I'm off for a nap."

He shut the door and headed to the house next to that one, glad to see the bed he'd woken up in. He searched the table next to it and found his coin, which he tucked under his pillow before taking a needed rest.


He had less than an hour of sleep before he was shaken awake by an irate Cassandra.

"You're stunning when you're angry," he said dryly, trying to pry her fist off his new shirt.

"What were you thinking?" she snarled.

"About what? You're going to have to be more specific."

She made an annoyed grunt and let go of his shirt, shoving him back against the wall as she did so. "Come with me," she practically barked. "I'm taking you to Josephine."

"Who's Josephine?" he said. "A temptress you mean to seduce me with?"

She snorted. "Isn't that your job?"

"No man is perfect," he said, winking.

She didn't even give him time to pull his coat on as she dragged him out the door and into the cold air, pushing him forward until they reached the Haven Chantry. Instead of the big room at the back she guided him ever-so-gently into a room on the side, where a woman sat at a desk, running a dark-skinned hand through black hair.

"You're sure she's not a temptress?" said Jethann. "She's quite beautiful."

She was, with impeccably curled hair and thick eyelashes framing dark brown eyes. She was also sighing and rifling through papers with annoyance. When she saw Jethann, she gave him a pained smile.

"This is Josephine Montilyet," said Cassandra. "She's our ambassador, and the one who's going to have to deal with the mess you've started."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," he said, rubbing his arm where she'd grabbed him. "Can you explain what's going on?"

"You've been here three days and you've already slept with someone?" she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"Give me some credit," he said. "I was asleep for those three days. It was more like two hours."

Josephine looked like she was going to laugh or cry, Jethann couldn't tell which. He looked from one stressed face to the other.

"Why is that such a big deal?" he asked nervously, eyes suddenly finding Josephine's wooden desk very interesting. That, or the stone walls. There was another woman in the room, an elf in robes. She seemed almost as uncomfortable as Jethann was.

"He really doesn't get it," said Cassandra angrily.

"The man you…had relations with," said the ambassador, her lovely voice accentuated with a rich Antivan accent. "Seggrit, I believe? He is going around telling everyone he can find that he has been with the Herald of Andraste. We were already having difficult quelling the rumors of your past and this only makes it…much worse."

"So you're upset that the people are going around calling me a common whore?" he asked.

Cassandra and Josephine exchanged a look. "Well, yes," said Josephine.

"I am," he said. "Sorry that it doesn't look good for you, but I don't hide it. And I didn't see you offering me new clothes."

"You didn't ask," said Cassandra icily.

He rubbed his arm uncomfortably. "What do you want me to say? I'm not used to people doing anything for me, especially for free."

There was silence in the room. Jethann felt very small.

"Did I mess things up that badly?" he asked. "I had no idea he was going to do this. I don't know how to be part of something like this."

"Stay out of the way," said Cassandra. "We'll tell you when we need you to do something. Until then, just stay out of the damn way."

She strode out, armored shoulder brushing him aside with disdain. He stood there uncomfortably, embarrassed and angry.

Josephine coughed slightly, looking up from her paperwork. "Would you like me to make you some tea?" she said delicately. The woman wearing robes relaxed, returning to her own work.

"No thanks," said Jethann.

She tapped a perfect nail on the desk. "Can I ask you a couple questions, Jethann? Those rumors abound, and while I by no means wish to force you to feel badly, I do want to stop them best I can. Learning a little more about you might help."

"Sure," he said, approaching her desk slightly. "What do you want to know? My past isn't very interesting."

She smiled, showing dimpled cheeks. "Everyone's past is interesting if told in the right way," she replied. "Your indiscretion with your sleeping partners, that's a recent thing, yes? You've only now fallen on hard times?"

"I've been a prostitute since I was fourteen," he said. "But yeah, I guess you could say I've been on harder times recently."

Her mouth opened in shock. "Since you were fourteen? You must be joking!"

He laughed at her incredulity. "No, sorry, I wish I were. I didn't have a lot of options as a kid on the streets."

"You were an orphan? How sad!" She somehow managed to look even more stricken.

"If that's what you want to tell people, go ahead," he said.

She nodded slowly. "I think I can make that work. A tragic orphan, earning his living from such a young age, seven or eight years passing before divine intervention rose him to a high power."

"You think I'm twenty-one? That's quite a compliment," he said, more pleased than he wanted to let on.

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you much older than that?"

"Oh, definitely not," he replied. "Maybe twenty-two."

She smiled. "I've heard that kind of answer before, usually from the mouth of widows at Orlesian balls."

"I can't tell whether that's a good thing or not," he said.

She shrugged. "I think you know."

He sighed, smile fading. "As much as I love the friendly banter, I'm dying for a bath. Any idea where I can get one around here?"

"I can have one drawn up for you, if you like," she said. "Do you use normal soap?"

What kind of question was that? "What kind of soap do you think I use?" he asked, voice edged with annoyance. "Whore soap?"

She colored red. "No, of course not. I'd heard elves sometimes have their own-"

"If we have our own soap," he said, "It's made of the dregs of yours. So I'll have normal soap, thank you."

"I'll draw you up a bath in your room as soon as possible," she said, cheeks flushed.

He left then, turning his heel with more dignity than he felt like he had in that moment. He'd messed things up for the Inquisition, to no one's surprise. Cassandra hated him and he had no idea how to do anything anyone wanted him to do. He felt bad for being rude to Josephine, who'd only been trying to help.

He was in this kind of mood the entire way out of the Chantry and back into the cold, finding a place to sit on a ledge, where he swung his legs and tried not to think about anything at all.

"How're you doing? I can ask now that you're out of Cassandra's clutches."

It was Varric. Jethann unconsciously slid his mask back into place, looking up at him and smiling.

"I'm fine," he said. "A little overwhelmed. Didn't expect to see you here, of all places. Small world, huh?"

Varric clambered down to join him, grunting slightly. "Must be getting old. How do you young things do it?"

"You know I was at the Rose longer than you had a room at The Hanged Man, right?" he said. "Maker. People seem determined to make me feel good about my age and like shit about everything else."

Varric's smirk didn't budge, but his eyes softened slightly. "I saw Cassandra storming out of the Chantry."

"And I bet you heard all about Seggrit, too," he said, looking down. "I miss Kirkwall."

"I do too," Varric said, reaching a hand out to clap Jethann on the knee. "I only left because I was dragged out. What made you leave?"

"I lost my job," he said. "Lusine let all the elves go to cut costs after the explosion."

"Sorry to hear that. I bet Lusine's sorry too. You and Serendipity were two of her best earners."

"What am I doing here, Varric?" he asked. "Stuck a thousand miles from home, getting told I'm a savior and a murderer in the same day. That's some bullshit."

"A lot of good people died at that Conclave," said Varric. "But you lived."

"I don't remember," he said. "I know I went in there to service someone…but I don't remember the rest. Cassandra should just cut my hand off and throw me to the wolves. She probably wants to."

"Ouch," said Varric. His hand was still on Jethann's knee, strong and calloused, so different from Jethann's. It was comforting. "I would think you'd be opposed to that."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I want. Part of me wonders if I shouldn't just…give in, and do what they say. What if, against all odds, I am what they're looking for?"

"It'll be quite a story," said Varric.

"I hope it has a happy ending," he said.

"I'll do everything I can to make sure it does," Varric said, standing. "You're a good guy, Jethann."

"Yeah," said Jethann, eyes unfocused, staring at the snow as Varric walked away. "We'll see."