She had fled into the gardens. A bit of an accident – she didn't know her way around this stone fortress yet – but a happy one. She felt more comfortable here than she had in that dark stuffy hall. Even this place was crowded with shemlen though. She couldn't escape them here, they were everywhere. So she found a place in the back corner of the courtyard where the plants had grown high and hid herself there, sitting with her back pressed to the trunk of a tree.

She sat there alone for a long while before she heard the only voice in this place that she recognized. "Asheani," her brother called out. Hesitantly she turned and peered around the tree. It was easy to spot him, walking through the garden confidently, not at all bothered by the stone walls or the humans everywhere. He looked around briefly before spotting her hiding spot. "There you are," he said, breathing a sigh as he headed in her direction.

She turned away and crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. "Go away."

"I just want to talk, asa'lin," Aldaron said. When he reached her he sat down slowly on the ground beside her. She didn't look at him. "You promised you would give him a chance."

He sounded like their parents, scolding her and telling her how to behave. Aldaron had never done that before, he always used to play with her, to stand up for her. "I did," she protested. "I met him. I don't like him."

"You didn't say a word to him that wasn't an insult," Aldaron said quickly, defensive and angry. It shocked her. Aldaron had never been angry at her before. They had been apart only a year and a half, but he had changed so much. "That's not giving him a chance."

Asheani pouted. She didn't see why she had to. He was a shem and they were all the same; all pretty talk until they got tired of dealing with the 'knife ears'. They would use the first excuse they had to be rid of them. The clan hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't even set foot in their stupid city. They just wanted somewhere safe to camp until the fighting was over. Asheani pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. "I don't like it here," she said quietly. "I want to go home."

By her side Aldaron sighed softly. "I didn't like it here at first, either," he told her. "But it's not so bad once you get used to it."

"You're not scared of all the shemlen?" she asked.

Aldaron shook his head, "Not anymore. I used to be. When… When this all started they wanted to kill me. Something went wrong, so blame the first elf you can find, right? But they were scared, too, and people do stupid things when they're scared, things they wouldn't do otherwise. They're good people. Even Cassandra's not that scary when you get to know her." Asheani looked at him sideways. She didn't remember meeting a 'Cassandra'. She hadn't had time to meet much of anyone, and she wasn't certain she wanted to. She didn't want to stay here, but where else could she go? Aldaron was her only family left, which was why Mithran had brought her here. Would he stay in this cold fortress now that he didn't have to worry about her? He was a craftsman, he could easily find a new clan who would use his skills. She was just a bare-faced child. No one would want her. "Is that why you don't like Dorian?" Aldaron asked after a moment of silence. "Are you scared of him?"

How couldn't she be? A shem, and Aldaron even said he was Tevinter: the worst kind of shem. How could Aldaron fall in love with someone like that? It had to be a ploy, didn't it? An act? The man couldn't even say whether or not he loved Aldaron back.

"You don't need to be afraid of him, da'ean," Aldaron said gently. "He pretends not to be, but he's really very nice. He won't hurt you."

"What about you?" Asheani asked quietly.

"Me?" Aldaron look confused for a moment, then he actually laughed. It was the first time she'd heard him laugh since she arrived. "Da'ean, if Dorian wanted to hurt me he would have done it a long time ago."

For that, Asheani had no argument. It was probably true. For over a year Aldaron had been living in this place, surrounded by these people. Actually leading these people. Asheani had already seen him dole out orders to human servants. But how much longer until the shemlen got tired of taking orders from a knife-ear?

"Asheani," Aldaron spoke again after a long moment of silence, and his voice is soft and hesitant. "I… I really want the two of you to get along."

When she looked over at him Aldaron was staring down at his hands and she was startled by how uncertain he looked. What had happened to the brother she'd known before, who was outspoken and stubborn and always getting in trouble? The closest she had seen to the Aldaron she remembered was when he was defending that shemlen mage. He used to defend her like that. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I care about both of you," Aldaron replied easily. "You're my family."

"I'm your family," Asheani argued. "He's just some shem who's using you. And now you like him more than you like me."

"That's not true," Aldaron protested. "He's not using me at all, and I love both of you. That's why I want you to be friends. I don't want to lose either of you."

Asheani looked down at her knees again. That was exactly what she was afraid of, on top of everything else. She had lost her brother once already when he went off to spy on the humans and never came home. Then she had lost her parents and all her friends. Now Aldaron was all she had left, but he didn't need her anymore. He had his mage and his Inquisition, all the shemlen fawning over him. It was all he talked about. She couldn't help feeling bitter, jealous. Like she was being replaced. "What's so great about him anyway?" she muttered, mostly to herself. But of course Aldaron heard.

"He's…" Aldaron began, and then stopped himself. He frowned a little and stared into the distance. "It's complicated. We've been through so much together. Whenever things got… overwhelming during the war he was always there for me, even though I'm sure he had his own troubles. He doesn't like to let people in, so he pretends to be above it all, but he's really very caring. And sweet, when he wants to be. And he's…" her brother paused and looked down at his lap, cheeks tinged pink but not from the sun. "He's very pretty."

Asheani pulled a face. Pretty? Maybe for a shem. "He has hair on his face," she muttered.

Aldaron let out a soft huff of laughter. "He does," he confirmed, sounding amused. "It suits him, though. I like it." Whenever he spoke about the man Aldaron got this stupid dreamy look on his face. It had happened the night before, then again this morning on their way down to breakfast, and it was happening right now. Whatever game the man was playing her brother had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. "I asked him to have dinner with us tonight," Aldaron said again, interrupting her thoughts. "In private. I can invite Mithran also if you want."

The idea of being alone with only her brother and some human didn't make Asheani very comfortable. "Do I have to?"

"I'm not asking you to trust him right away, I just want you to give him a chance. I know you'll like him if you get to know him," Aldaron insisted. "I'll invite Mithran as well, then you won't have to be alone. We'll go find him right now. I still need to show you both around anyway."

"Do I have to stay here?" Asheani asked quietly. She didn't like this place. She didn't like how it had changed her brother. She missed her family. She wanted to go home.

Aldaron sighed softly. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know everything here is strange and different. I know you're scared. But this… This is my home now. I'm not sure I would go back to the clan even if I could. If you really don't want to stay here… We can find somewhere else for you to go. I know another clan in Orlais. Their keeper is nice. I'm certain they would take you in if I asked."

"I don't want another clan," Asheani mumbled and hugged her knees tighter. "I want our clan."

A moment later she felt Aldaron's arms wrap around her shoulders as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Me, too," he whispered against the shell of her ear, barely loud enough for her to make out the words. The tears came suddenly and in a flood. She wrapped her arms around him in turn, pressing her face into his chest and the too-soft fabric of his shirt. She'd thought that she had already shed all the tears she possibly could, but now they would not stop. Aldaron didn't say a word the whole time, just held her close and rubbed her back gently as she sobbed into his chest.

Eventually her tears dried up once more, but Asheani stayed in her brother's embrace for long moments afterward. Sitting here with him in the garden like this she could almost pretend, for a moment, that everything was back to normal. But of course it wasn't, and never would be again. It was that thought that finally had her pulling out of his embrace and wiping her eyes. Aldaron was watching her, but she couldn't meet his gaze, then all of a sudden he was getting to his feet, grabbing her hands and pulling her up as well. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

"What is it?" Asheani asked as she let him pull her across the garden.

Aldaron did not answer, but he stopped in front of a young sapling barely as tall as Asheani herself. The ground around it was well tended and marked out by a carefully placed circle of stones. On one of the stones someone had inlaid a metal plaque. Aldaron released her hand and crouched down, brushing a bit of dirt from the lettering before reading aloud, "'This tree planted in memory of Clan Lavellan and all innocents lost to war.' I don't know who ordered the plaque, but it's nice." Still crouching on the ground Aldaron turned his gaze up into the sapling's few spindly branches. "I couldn't go to Wycome to give them a proper funeral, and I couldn't plant a tree for everyone, it wasn't practical, but I had to do something for them." He stood up again and brushed dirt off his knees. "I miss them," he told Asheani quietly, "I'll probably always miss them. But I've realized that I still have people that I care about, and that care about me. So it doesn't hurt so much anymore, because even though the clan is gone I still have a family. I still have you," he said with a small smile, "And Dorian, and everyone else here. I'm not alone, and neither are you, da'ean. I'll always be here for you. And so will everyone at Skyhold if you'll let them."

Asheani looked up at him with eyes still red from crying. He was so different from how she remembered; more serious, more mature. "When did you get so smart?"

Aldaron's brows shot up in surprise as he looked down at her. "Smart?" he asked, then let out a bark of slightly bitter laughter. "I'm not smart. I just know how you feel, asa'lin."

Of course he did. She wasn't the only one who had lost family. It was selfish to think she was the only one still mourning. "I'm sorry for yelling at you before," she said quietly, looking down at the ground.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Aldaron said.

Asheani bit her lip. It was so much easier to apologize to her brother. But her words had mostly been directed at his companion, and that had obviously upset him. "I'm sorry for yelling at him, too," she said eventually.

"I forgive you," Aldaron replied, then smiled a real smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Now, come on. Let's find Mithran and I'll show you around. Maybe get you some clean clothes while we're at it."


Shyhold was enormous. Asheani had known that the first time she set eyes on the fortress from the road up the mountain, but it actually seemed even bigger from inside. A maze of halls and stairs and walltops as Aldaron lead her and Mithran on a grand tour of his new home. They met more people than she could keep track of, and Aldaron said there had once been even more people here. He seemed sad when he explained that some people were already going back to the lives they'd lived before the sky exploded. Asheani had a hard time imagining any more people.

For the post part everyone was very polite; 'happy to meet you' and 'I'm terribly sorry about your family' and 'how do you like Skyhold?'. Aldaron - and even Mithran – seemed perfectly at ease chatting with anyone who came up. Asheani could barely manage one-word answers and shy smiles, staying as close to her brother as possible.

Aldaron took them to a seamstress – tailor, she was corrected. An Orlesian woman with such a thick accent that Asheani could barely understand a word she said. While she didn't enjoy being poked and prodded and measured, Asheani was looking forward to a new outfit. She had been wearing this since leaving the Free Marches and the fabrics here were so colorful and soft, unlike anything she'd seen before.

"You can pick out anything you like," Aldaron said, watching her run her hands over silk and brocade in wonder.

"Some of these must be terribly expensive," Mithran commented, frowning a little.

"Probably," Aldaron replied, but didn't sound terribly concerned. "The Inquisition already paid for it, though."

But there are so many choices Asheani doesn't even know where to begin. She'd never had much choice in what to wear before, and certainly nothing like what is available here. As though sensing her dilemma, the tailor picked up a bolt of deep green fabric and held it out to her. "You have your brother's coloring, my lady," she said in that unintelligible accent, "So perhaps we start with something familiar?"

"Y-yes," Asheani stammered. She reached out to touch the fabric offered to her, felt it slide through her fingers like water. How did they even make fabric like this? But was it really alright for her to have something this nice? Shyly, she looked back over at her brother, who had been watching her like a hawk all day, his expression unreadable. "Is it really alright?"

"Of course," Aldaron assured her, and smiled. "You like that one?" Asheani only nodded quietly. She liked most of the fabrics, honestly, and could still scarcely believe that she was being offered such fine clothes as though it was nothing. It felt like she was being spoiled, and she was unaccustomed to such attention, but she didn't dislike it.

"A very good choice," the Orlesian woman praised as she took the fabric back and set it aside. "We will have you out of these filthy rags by the morning."

Self-consciously, Asheani looked down at what she was wearing now. Filthy rags? Yes, the simple tunic and leggings had certainly seen better days, but they weren't rags. Although… She glanced over at her brother. His clothes had been cut in an approximation of Dalish style, but they were the same fine fabrics offered to her, immaculately tailored and decorated with polished silver fastenings. In comparison her own wardrobe was little better than rags, wasn't it? But this was all she had, all she had ever had. Mithran's clothes were scarcely nicer, and Aldaron had dressed like this when he lived with the clan. Everyone here had such nice things, though, even the soldiers. How had it taken her so long to notice the difference? All the people she had met so far, what must they think of her? What did she look like to them?

"Something wrong?" Aldaron asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Asheani looked up at him and shook her head. "No," she lied, hoping he wouldn't see through it. "I'm fine."

Whether or not he believed her, Aldaron let the subject drop and turned his attention to Mithran instead. The craftsman, however, shook his head. "I've been making my own clothing for most of my life, I don't see why I should stop now," he said.

"Are you sure?" Aldaron asked. He looked concerned, maybe even a little hurt.

"It's a very generous offer lethallin," Mithran assured him. "But I have no need for such finery. I'll see to my own needs."

"Oh." For a moment Aldaron's face crumpled, and then it went emotionless. "Alright. I'll show you the undercroft, then. You can use the tools there."

So they were off again, winding their way through the fortress and back to the main hall. The dwarf – Varric – was still sitting at the table where they had eaten breakfast, though it was now covered in papers and books. He glanced up as they passed and when he noticed Asheani staring offered a smile and a wave that she returned shyly. In hindsight now she felt ashamed of her outburst that morning. Aldaron was right; she hadn't been fair, jumping straight to anger and suspicion when no one here had given her reason to dislike them. If anything, the people of Skyhold had been exceptionally welcoming. She should be thanking them. Only everything was so different from what she had expected, so different from what she was used to.

It did not take long for Mithran to make friends in the undercroft. Only moments after meeting the human blacksmith and dwarven enchanter, Mithran was hunched over a table with them discussing the finer points of working with ironbark. The three didn't even notice when Aldaron and Asheani eventually slipped back out into the hall. At least one of them was enjoying themselves here, Asheani thought bitterly, but it was still one more person who liked this place more than they liked her.


The elven woman in the tavern actually screamed when she saw the siblings together. "She's like a miniature you!" she exclaimed, "Well, not very miniature. An' without the tree," she amended, gesturing vaguely toward Aldaron's face.

"It's not a tree," Aldaron sighed with the resignation of someone who had made the same argument a hundred times. "Asheani this is Sera," he said politely, "And this is-,"

"I know who she is, yeah? Everyone does," Sera replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"Everyone?" Aldaron asked in surprise. Asheani was equally shocked, and somewhat frightened.

"Well sure," Sera shrugged, "Word gets 'round fast here, an' it's not every day the Inquisitor's family comes back from the dead. 'S good, though. Everyone's real happy. You deserve a bit of good after everything."

Aldaron flushed and smiled a tiny bit. "Thanks," he mumbled, and then quickly composed himself. "I was just showing her around, introducing her to people. And I… uh… I wondered if you might have something she could wear? Just so this can be cleaned, and until the tailor's done."

"You wanna borrow my clothes?" she sounded as surprised as Asheani felt.

"Just for a day or two," Aldaron assured. "She doesn't have anything else. You're the only one who might be small enough. Please. You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind?" Sera seemed absolutely flabbergasted, but also excited. "'Course I don't mind. It'll be fun, yeah? My clothes're better than whatever than fancy-pants tailor's gonna stick you in. Right then, better get started. Come on," she grinned wide and eager as she grabbed Asheani by both arms and pulled the elven girl into her room. Then she looked Aldaron straight in the face and said, "No boys allowed," before shutting the door on him.

Even through the door Asheani could hear her brother's surprised "What?"

"You heard me!" Sera called back. "Go climb a tree or somethin'."

There was no reply from Aldaron for a moment, and then a resigned, "Please no plaid. We're having dinner with Dorian."

Sera looked down at Asheani and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Shove off!" They waited a moment in silence to see if Aldaron would say anything more, but were greeted only by silence. "Alright, then," Sera grinned. She let go of Asheani's arms and turned around. The room was a mess of colors and fabrics, pillows littering the floor and knickknacks covering every available surface, but Sera went straight for a trunk pushed up against the wall. Pulling it open revealed another mess of colors and fabric, apparently all clothes.

Sera wasn't quite as small as Asheani (who was perfectly average for her age, thank you, she was still growing) and her clothes were still too large. But with belts and a bit of quick sewing they cobbled together an outfit that fit. The whole time Sera chatted endlessly about everything and nothing. Asheani could barely get a word in edgewise, and the other elf's train of thought was difficult to follow at times. But even though Sera was clearly not Dalish, something about her made Asheani feel a little less homesick. Maybe because she wasn't full of empty platitudes and condolences like everyone else. She treated Asheani like an old friend, laughing and joking. Like things used to be with Aldaron.

"Sera, can I ask you something?" Asheani asked shyly. Dressed now, she sat down on the window seat and pulled her feet up onto the cushions.

"Sure," Sera replied. She had an armful of clothes, which she dumped unceremoniously back into the chest before joining Asheani by the window. "What's on?"

"You've been here a long time, right?" the girl asked.

"Since the beginning," Sera answered, "Well, almost the beginning. Missed the sky exploding and raining demons, but you won't find me complaining about that. Real glad I missed that part, actually."

"And you're close with my brother? You're friends?"

"Sure, guess so," Sera shrugged. "I mean I like him. He's fun when he's not being all serious Inquistor-y tryin' to look good for all the foreign nobs. And when he's not being too elfy."

Too elfy? Asheani wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't matter right now. "He's different from how I remember. And everyone keeps acting like Al's been through horrible things, but they only want to tell stories about fancy parties and dragons and stuff. No one will tell me what happened."

The smile faded off Sera's face for the first time since Asheani had met her. "Not really our place to tell, yeah? Lotta stuff happened. Weird stuff, bad stuff, some good stuff too, I guess. You wanna know about it, you ask him. I'll tell you this, though. He used to be no fun at all, kept to himself and didn't even smile or nothing. Still does it sometimes, but he's better now the war's over, and since Dorian."

Asheani frowned. That's what she was afraid of hearing. She could ask Aldaron, but would he give her an honest answer? Or would he sugar coat the truth to keep her from worrying? She was already worrying, though, that would only make it worse. "Can I ask you something else, then?"

"Sure, you can ask me anything," Sera assured her.

"What do you think of Dorian?"

"Dorian?" Sera asked in surprise. "He's alright, I guess. Bit stuck up sometimes, but he means well. This 'cause he's shagging your brother? Oh!" she stopped suddenly, "I shouldn't've said that. How old are you?"

"I'm thirteen," Asheani said defensively. She wasn't a little kid. She knew about… that. That didn't mean she wanted to think about it, though. Especially not with her brother involved.

"Sure you don't wanna hear about that, then. I don't even wanna hear about that," Sera pulled a disgusted face briefly before continuing on. "But they're proper in love, they are. Disgusting, really. Always making moony eyes at each other when they think no one's looking. You seen 'em, yeah?"

Asheani shook her head. "I only met him at breakfast. They didn't seem like that. But whenever Al talks about him he makes this stupid face like…" she frowned, unable really to describe why the expression bothered her so much.

"Like he's just seen the most amazing thing in the world?" Sera offered.

"Yes, like that," Asheani agreed. That was exactly what it looked like. And maybe that's why it bothered her. She still didn't understand what was so great about some fancy human mage.

"Gross, innit?" Sera said sympathetically. Asheani could only nod in agreement. "Don't think they even realize. Suppose they're happy, though, and that's what matters. Ugh," she groaned suddenly, annoyed, "Now you got me being all mushy, too. Gotta talk about something else. You wanna go make cookies?"

"What are cookies?" Asheani asked curiously.

Sera's eyes went wide, "What're-?" she stammered. "Shite, now we gotta make 'em. Come on."