Chapter 3: Stories
Word of the Conclave's destruction and the opening of the breach spread like wildfire. All of Thedas reeled from the news, and to make matters worse, smaller breaches had begun to appear across the land, demons began to enter the world with impunity.
The chantry tried its best to reassure the people, but with the Divine dead, and so many of her strongest allies dead. The remaining mothers could do little to turn the tide of panic that now ran rampant among the faithful. More than a few demanded that the Templar order return to the fold, all of Thedas needed to walk in the Maker's light again if they intended to surviving this growing darkness…
Some Templars did return to Val Royeaux, the rest…did not listen.
Both Templar and mage blamed the other for the Divine's death. The war between the two intensified, but with so many of their own leaders dead the battles quickly devolved into free for alls. Mages and Templars fought each other, while attacking those they thought to be sympathizers to their rivals, or simply to steal supplies.
To many, it seemed like the end of the world. Panicked refugees fled their homes trying to escape the fighting, to escape the Templars, mages, demons, and criminals that were seeking to take advantage of the chaos. The chantry continued to plead for restraint, but it appeared that no one was listening to the voices out of Val Royeaux any longer…
But even in darkness…some hope remained.
Another story began to spread.
The Divine's closest advisors had left the chantry. They could no longer tolerate the chaos around them, or the inaction of the mothers. Ravens flew from Haven to all corners of Orlais and Ferelden, summoning the faithful to a call of arms. The Divine it seemed had left one final directive. The Conclave had been her last hope to resolve the matter of the Templars and mages peacefully…
Now…with Justinia's death, it was time for something more pro-active.
At chantries across Ferelden and Orlais notes were nailed to doors, the faithful got their first look at the Divine's final directive.
The Declaration of the Inquisition began to spread.
Cassandra Pentaghast put out a call to all who sought to see order restored in the world. They asked that anyone, Templar, mage, warrior, or rogue travel to Haven to join the cause. They would restore order and they would seal the breach, and to any of those who doubted that the breach could be sealed, came yet another story, the story of the lone survivor of the Conclave. The story of a young girl who had stepped out of the fade, guided by a mysterious woman in white, the same young girl who had risked her life to stop the expansion of the breach, touched by fate and Andraste's hand.
The Herald of Andraste had come, and her name was Anastasia Trevelyan.
The Mothers in Val Royeaux called such tales blasphemy. They accused Seeker Pentaghast and the enigmatic sister Nightingale of attempting to seize power for themselves, that this…Herald was both a puppet and a false prophet, that she had murdered the Divine and would lead the faithful only to damnation. They declared the members of the Inquisition heretics and for the faithful to deliver the Trevelyan girl to the capital for execution.
Alas, no one seemed to be listening. The mothers continued to receive updates from Roderick, Justinia's chancellor. He continued to preach the virtues of chantry rule in Haven, and the need to see the Divine's murderer punished. The people however were not listening, the soldiers that had followed Seeker Pentaghast and Lady Trevelyan into the ruins of the temple of sacred ashes had seen to that.
The ruins were the sight of a massacre, the bodies of the dead frozen in shapes of agony, the lyrium that had once run through the temple like veins had become corrupted as well, great red crystals rose from the shatter stone, causing all around them to hear singing and strange whispers.
The spirits that swirled around the breach reenacted the Divine's final moments, Justinia restrained by a shadowy figure, calling for her sacrifice, and at that moment of dark triumph, an innocent girl had entered, summoned by the Divine's plea for aid. The shadowy villain had called for her death, but even he could not stop the will of Andraste.
The soldiers that had found Trevelyan claimed to have seen a glowing woman standing in the rift that the Trevelyan girl had appeared out of; they claimed to have felt peace and love in her presence.
Many claimed that it was Andraste herself that she had decided to act for the people she had died to save so long ago.
Those soldiers had seen Ana reach out with her mark. They had seen her try to seal the breach. A pride demon had stepped through trying to prevent it, but even that powerful demon could not stand against Andraste's chosen.
Anastasia Trevelyan had not sealed the breach, but she had stabilized it, no more demons fell upon Haven.
With that one act, the girl had gone from murderer to savior. A savior that now stood with the new Inquisition.
A beacon of hope in a dark world, this was the view that Leliana, also known as Sister Nightingale, spread to all who would hear it.
The tale of her actions spread before the Inquisition. They did not even have a true army yet, and already their influence was being felt.
In the corridors of power, leaders discussed this girl and the Inquisition. Some looked with fear, others with greed, there was opportunity in chaos.
As for the herald, she remained in Haven, recovering from the explosion and the battle afterwards.
Many were asking who was she; did she truly have the Maker's favor?
Could she truly save them all?
Many had their doubts, among them a singular young woman.
Her name was Ana Trevelyan.
IOI
Varric Tethras made his way down the streets of Haven, his boots crunching in the snow. The dwarven rogue shook his head at the sights around him. The population of the little village had doubled since Sister Leliana had sent out the call for the Inquisition.
The faithful arrived with either a lot or very little, some brought carts loaded with goods to help support the cause, others came with just the clothes on their backs, eager to serve the Maker, and his bride's herald.
Varric, always the storyteller, listened closely to the new arrivals, he understood the value of information, and he was always fishing for ideas for his next book.
These new arrivals had much to say.
Have you seen her, the Herald?
Not yet, but she is here, I saw her talking to the Commander.
Do you really believe the tales?
Of course, Andraste would not leave us to suffer needlessly.
They say that our prophet plucked her right out of the world of the dead, that she carried her out of the fade.
She must be a woman of great faith to have earned Andraste's favor.
She must be. Andraste gave her the ability to close the rifts. I saw it, holy light shining in her fist.
We are blessed.
Praise Andraste.
Praise her Herald.
Varric shook his head.
Poor Ana.
He had spoken only a little with the girl since they had met on the mountain. It had been nice to speak with a fellow marcher after being around so many Orlesians and Fereldans.
She had been keeping to herself since Cassandra and Leliana had declared their holy war.
He had been meaning to speak with the seeker, despite their rather…unusual introduction, he found that she did listen when he said something.
Everyone was so interested in what the Herald of Andraste meant for the cause.
No one had asked what she thought of all this.
The dwarf frowned.
It wasn't right, Ana was just a kid. She was a child, now she was being used as a figure head for this whole damn Inquisition. The Seeker had painted a target on her chest.
Varric had spent enough time around people wanting to be martyrs. Blondie had died because he had wanted this; he wanted this chaos and destruction. He had thought it would lead to a new future for his people.
All Varric had seen come out of it, was death. The powerful had blamed Anders for what had happened, but Anders was dead, he could not be punished again. Ana however was still breathing.
It was only a matter of time before people started taking shots at the poor girl.
It wasn't fair, not to her, or to all these people who had flocked to her banner.
It wasn't fair…period.
That was why he was out here on this cold night.
He did not want to speak with the Herald of Andraste.
He wanted to speak with Ana Trevelyan.
It was not hard to find the poor girl. The looks of wonder and hushed awed whispers were better than any trail of breadcrumbs. She had retreated to her cabin for the night. Two of the faithful stood near if she needed anything.
Varric did not wait for one of them to announce him, or some other stupid shit like that.
He knocked on the door.
Here goes nothing, he thought.
IOI
Ana looked at the blank piece of parchment before her, her lips held in a tight frown, she had been sitting here for almost an hour now, trying to write this simple letter.
She was having little success; of course this letter was far from simple.
Speaking with her mother was never a simple thing.
Lady Aliza Amelia Trevelyan had no doubt heard about the Conclave by now, not to mention all the other stories that had filtered out since. The Trevelyans had always been a power in Ostwick and with their close connection to the chantry…
Ana's frown deepened.
What did her mother think now? What did she think of her daughter, the accused heretic…?
…The Herald of Andraste.
The first time she had heard that name was during the most recent war council. Lady Montilyet, the Inquisition's ambassador had been spreading that title among her noble contacts. Sister Leliana meanwhile had her agents passing Ana's tale at every tavern and inn between Denerim and Val Royeaux, how Ana had survived the Conclave explosion, and how she had sealed the rift in the temple of sacred ashes…
The two women seemed intent on making her the public face of this Inquisition that the Maker had chosen her…her to be the symbol that rallied the faithful to their cause.
The very thought of the idea made Ana pale.
Did the two women not realize how maddening this sounded?
Did they not realize who it was they were talking about?
After the war council Ana had just made it to the nearest dark alley before she had to throw up. The weight of what the Inquisition expected threatened to crush her.
Maker save me, she thought, I'm doomed.
She retreated to her cabin; she tried to ignore the looks she was receiving. The people of Haven no longer looked at her like a hated criminal. They had hope in their eyes. One or two or two of them even came up to her, asking for a blessing, her blessing. It sounded so ridiculous that she almost had not done it, but in the end she had conceded. The people here in Haven had lost so much; she did not dare take away their hope…
They all expected her to save them.
Yet, she did not have the slightest idea how to do that.
She got off the street quickly, not wishing to be subjected to anymore hero worship. She needed to be alone.
She needed to figure out what the fuck she was going to do.
Once she was safe behind a locked door, she felt at least a little better. The panic she had felt out in the street subsided to a more acceptable level.
She needed to speak with someone, but had no idea who. Who would let her be herself and not some…some…holy herald?
She had sat down, tried to compose a letter to her family. Explain to her Mother what had happened.
She wanted to explain…everything.
Mother needed to know that this was not Ana's idea. She was staying because she wanted to help, because the mark on her hand could close the rifts.
Beyond that, everything else was just posturing, and politics.
Mother would understand that she thought.
Lady Aliza knew a lot about politics.
Of course, once she had sat down, once she had parchment, quill, and ink, she found that her mind had gone blank.
How could she explain all this?
She did not understand herself.
How does one explain what had happened?
How…how could she even put it into words that made it sound less like a crazed lie…?
…or…a miracle.
Frustration burned in her gut, she almost threw the ink well against the wall.
She did not want to be Andraste's Herald!
Was she tough, organized, was she one of the true believers?
No.
She believed in the Maker, and she sang the chant at services, but she…
She was not one of the devoted. Maker's breath, she had spent the last few months trying to stay out of a chantry habit. She was the absolute last person that either the Maker or Andraste should have chosen.
There had been so many pious and righteous people at the Conclave, so many brave souls who would have happily embraced this calling.
Uncle Randolph would have been better suited for this, than her.
Yet, here she sat, while all those people remained dead.
Why had she been spared?
Why was she so special?
Why?!
She never asked for this, and she didn't want it.
Any of it!
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She…so many had died at the Conclave. She was no better than any of them!
She was nothing special.
She feared what would happen when all of Thedas realized that.
A knock at her door shook her from her musings.
She sighed, forcing her temper back down.
If this was something asking for a blessing or some other religious thing, she was not going to be pleased.
"Yes," she called out.
"It's Varric, kiddo," she heard through the door, "Mind if I come in?"
Ana wiped at her face, she did not wish for Varric to see how close she had been to tears.
Of all of her new companions, she liked the dwarf the best. She respected Solas. What he knew of magic and the fade was incredible, she had spent several of the last few nights just listening to him. Lady Cassandra shamed her with her strength, courage, and virtue. Ana just spent her days trying not to piss the warrior woman off.
Varric was…reachable. It was nice to have a fellow Marcher here in Haven, and he did not look at her like she was some… reborn savior.
Around the dwarf, she could be herself. She could be Ana.
She hurried to the door.
She needed to be just Ana right now.
IOI
The two of them sat at the small table in Ana's cabin, two cups of tea sat in front of them.
They sat in silence; Ana held the large cup with both hands, as if she could absorb the warmth.
Again Varric felt a pang of pity; the girl looked far younger in that moment than she had up on the mountain. She wore no armor and carried no weapons; just a simple silk shirt and breaches covered her form.
Ana…she wasn't what most people would call beautiful; she wasn't an Isabela or Sister Leliana. She was…cute, that was about it. Men wouldn't go to war in lust filled rages for her, but they would likely stay close, wanting to see what else this sweet little thing had to offer.
The dwarf almost laughed. Rivaini would have viewed the girl as a challenge. Someone worthy of seduction, she would be eager to try and corrupt the noble girl.
No she was not a ravishing beauty, but she had strength, he had seen that in the mountain pass, and again in the ruins of the temple of sacred ashes.
She was cute, but she was also complicated…
From her right hand still emerged a small yellow-green light, the same light that the people had been forced to get so used these last few weeks.
The breach never slept; day and night it spilled its unearthly aura down on Thedas. Even in now, in the darkest of nights the village of Haven was caught in its glow.
The dwarf frowned.
"How's the hand?" he asked her.
IOI
Ana sniffed and held it up for him to see, the small glowing crack in her palm.
She turned it to her face; she looked sadly down upon it. She had tried wearing gloves but the glow still shown through.
"It no longer hurts," she admitted with a tired sigh, "And at least it is not growing any longer."
She sat down picked up her cup again, though she made no attempt to drink.
"It is just another reminder of how messed up everything is."
The dwarf snorted.
"That is an understatement and a half," he agreed, "You seem to be handling all this well, but it can't be easy to deal with in such a short time. I mean you went from the most hated criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. That is a lot to swallow in only a few days."
Ana gave him a wry smile.
IOI
"I should probably count my blessings," the girl replied, "Chancellor Roderick won't be dragging me back to Val Royeaux anytime soon, and with everyone in the village thinking that I'm some sort of savior. He isn't going to have any help doing so, not from Haven anyway."
Varric nodded.
He had seen the chantry man walking around. He watched what the Inquisition was trying to accomplish with barely disguised disdain. He had made no attempt to hide his belief that everything that was happening here in haven was a mistake.
The chantry might send people to aid him, eventually, but with so many Templars tied up fighting the mages, it was unlikely any military support would come from that source.
"I have been meaning to ask you," he began, "Now that Cassandra is out of earshot, are you okay?"
The noble woman gave him a shy smile.
"It is sweet of you to worry master dwarf."
Varric chuckled.
"Don't read too much into it kiddo. I spent a lot of time the last few years in the company of heroes. I've seen things fall apart pretty fast and the length people go to try and put it right, but this…this is different."
He pointed out the window, the strange green glow shone brightly through the cabin's tiny window.
The dwarf sighed heavily.
"The hole in the sky, that is beyond heroes. Heroes are everywhere, I've seen that in my travels, but this…this…needs something more."
He gave her a hopeful look.
"We need a miracle."
Ana's eyes narrowed; clearly what he said had upset her.
"So you came here looking for some kind of reassurance, like everyone else?"
"I just came here to talk," he replied.
His words did little to cool her temper.
"Ever since I helped seal that rift in the temple ruins people have been looking at me like I have all the answers, or can find them. They think that Andraste is just going to reach down and save us all, or that she is going to reveal to me at the last moment some grand plan.
The noble woman peered down into her tea, staring at her reflection in its calm surface.
"I'll be honest with you master dwarf," she began, "I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know how to seal the breach or save this world. Everyone in this place looks at me like I'm some kind of holy…knowledgeable thing, but I'm just as confused and frightened as everyone else."
Varric nodded.
"Does that mean you are planning to give up then?"
"Of course not."
Does that mean you are not going to seal up anymore rifts when they appear.
"Of course not, I'll go where I'm needed. I gave my word, and…"
The dwarf smirked at her.
It only served to infuriate her further.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing."
"It is not, nothing, Varric. Tell me what is so damn amusing."
His smile widened.
"I've had a lot of dealings with nobles over the year's kiddo. Most of the ones I knew wouldn't stick their neck out for anyone but themselves…"
He reached out to her placing his hand on top of hers; there was nothing romantic in the move, merely a friend offering support to another.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"You might not be some holy hero, like everyone else is saying, but…you are a hero, people are going to be drawn to that. If you truly want to help, let people believe what they want to believe. If you give them hope, then you have already done more than what you expected, trust me."
She smiled slightly at him.
"Even if what they believe is making driving me mad?"
He chuckled again.
"Especially if it is driving you mad, or even making you mad. A symbol can be a powerful thing kiddo. Sister Leliana understands that, and so does the chantry."
He lightly patted her hand.
"Just be yourself, everything else will follow."
IOI
Ana considered his words they made sense in a way.
If the people needed her to be the herald, then perhaps that is what she should do. Even if she went into a troubled area sealing rifts and waving the Inquisition flag, that might still do much to helping their cause.
She still needed to be careful though. She needed to be herself, if she allowed all this herald shit to go to her head.
She had no intention of taking Justinia's place, and at the same time she did not want to turn into some religious fanatic, thinking that she could do whatever she wanted because Andraste favored her. She needed to stay focused and keep both feet on the ground.
"Any other advice master dwarf?"
Varric's face turned serious.
"You might want to think about running at some point though. I've written enough tragedies over the years to know how stories like yours end. Just be ready to step aside when the time comes, it will be better for you in the long run."
It was strange advice she thought, but then again Varric had seen things she had not. She had heard rumors that he had travelled with Hawke, the legendary Champion of Kirkwall.
If half of what she had heard about the champion was true…
…perhaps the dwarf's advice made sense.
"Stay me, be prepared to run…got it."
"Good," the dwarf said with a grin, "When you try to run though, make sure that Cassandra is not around, she can be a bit…tenacious trust me."
She chuckled.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good kiddo," he said, "very good indeed."