The world was quiet.
She walked the small paths through the village, taking note of the empty houses and the quaint tavern that sat unused. The clouds, heavy with rain of an oncoming storm, churned above her head threatening to spill its secrets.
Soft footsteps fell behind her as she rounded by the temple again. She looked down at the bare feet that were twins to her own, save for the small blue veins pressing against the pale skin and his slender toes.
"I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised to see you here," she said softly, looking up from the toes to the leather straps that crisscrossed across his legs. A simple piece of armor compared to the usual bronze-tinted ironbark that he wore more often.
His side smirk met her dead tone.
The dark pelt over his shoulder almost engulfed half his body, but he was muscular compared to the others, caught in the routine of the wear and tear of battle and war. A war that had been going on for almost a decade now. She hummed in mirth at the thought of how far they had come.
"You are in my sanctuary. I do believe it is only right that I greet those I am protecting."
She laughed aloud, but it was dry.
"Protect? Is that what you call it? You're no better than the ones that label themselves as gods yet are like the soil under my feet."
"That is my soil you are stepping on," he retorted and she laughed again.
"I apologize for offending the earth."
"As you should."
They had stopped walking, and with each reply, his body seemed to loom closer and closer to her own. She could feel the heat coming from the pelt, enchanted to battle the cold of the Crossroads. The hairs on the back of her neck and across her bare arms stood on end, a chill washing over her. He moved closer.
"Cold?" He asked, voice low and eyes looking at her deeply. She didn't give him an answer before smirking and turning to walk off. He mumbled after her, "Very cold indeed."
She only got a step away before his hands grasped her waist and pulled her back toward him. The silky texture of her dress slid under his fingers, bunching up easily and offering a tantalizing view of her bare ankles. The small chain around her left ankle jingled with the single charm of a tooth wrapped in elegant wires.
A single reminder that she was forever bound to him.
"Vhenan," he hummed softly to her, lips like a feather on her neck. "Wake up."
.
Valoll awoke slowly, eyes crusted over with her what-seemed-like-days of sleep. She came to from her dreams like emerging from a spring of warm water. It slid over her skin in intervals, leaving more and more open as the seconds went by until she opened her eyes to the dim light of the barely-there candles near the bedside and light shining through the single window of the home.
The Breach tinted the sky green, flowing heavy with magic that made her bones ache like a bad knee when winter cold set in. She sat up, back knotted and tight from laying still for so long. How long had she been unconscious?
No more than a night at most, but it felt so much longer. Like a millennia had passed and she was suddenly awoken into a new world.
It had been barely a week since the attack on the Conclave. A week since she last saw Shae and Odette and lost them in the long, filled halls. A week since the explosion that rocked the entire south of Thedas.
She was in Haven, a small cluster of homes and a chantry located only a few hours worth of a walk to the Temple of Scared Ashes. There had been talks since she had awoken, writs read and interpreted in ways that Valoll would never understand, but she was to help them. She was their only hope.
Her left hand lifted up to her face, the cut in her hand spilling out soft green light. It had stopped spreading, the cut barely reaching the ends of her palm. But there were small tendrils branching off, staining the veins in her arm with a tint of the magic. She never understood magic, how it moved the air around them to create something new from what seemed like nothing. But something couldn't come from nothing.
She didn't come from nowhere. She didn't just appear in that temple with nothing but the clothes on her back.
With a sigh, the hand dropped down to the bed again. She subconsciously reached for her satchel, hoping to thumb through her small notebook once again before reminding herself that it was gone.
Lost in the blast that killed thousands, including the Divine. And yet she lived. While her memories were still fuzzy of the event, she remembered running into the sanctuary at the sound of a struggle and being caught in the middle of the ritual that caused the blast. The faces were blurry, not as clear as the others she had come to meet, like she was looking through a veil of shimmering water at them.
With another sigh, Valoll propped herself up until she was sitting with a slouched back, hands limp in her lap as her fingers traced over the edges of the cut of the mark.
While it had become a habit to make marks in her notebook, simply for the reason of doing so and no other defined purpose, it was a habit she could break. Her bow was replaceable, and had been replaced by Harriet when she awoke. It took them an afternoon of testing bow strength and weights, but she found the one that felt closest to what she was comfortable with.
But the small silk pouch that held the key to her memories, was gone. Ash now, more than likely, and it frustrated Valoll to no end. Not only was she not going to find out who she was before all of this, but she had now broken her end of a bargain, something that was too unlike her for her to be comfortable with. How was she to get in contact with the woman now? Simply shout her name to the skies and hope Flemeth heard?
She laughed to herself at the thought.
Valoll began the day with a relax pop of her back. She was used to sleeping in tree roots or on the ground, not the soft downy mattress she had been given upon their initial close of the First Rift. They had closed others in the surrounding area, farmers and clerics shouting of demons as they came running from the woods. It wasn't incredibly hard to down them. Between Seeker Pentaghast, Varric with his one-of-a-kind Bianca, and the elf mage Solas, there was plenty of fighting power in her small band of warriors.
With each day she drew stronger as well, toning her body with the long walks through the mountains and fighting demons. Her bow arm had hurt for the first few days, as there was so much time between her using her bow, but now her fingers were sore from the blisters and callouses reforming.
Once her back was clear of any knots, Valoll went about washing the sleep from her face, looking to continue the day with clear eyes. They would leave for the Hinterlands that day, searching for Mother Giselle at the Crossroads.
She shrugged on her leather coat after lacing up her tunic, pulling on the leather trousers that would keep her warm in the cold mountains, tucking the ends of her tunic under the waist, and laced up her boots. Leaning against the backboard of the bed was her new bow and quiver, as well as a plate of what looked to be breakfast on the bedside table. Valoll shook her head but picked up a piece of the buttered and jelly-smeared bread to fill her belly with.
The young elf servant that she had first met once awakening in Haven had taken it upon herself, she had been told by multiple others that she was given no orders, to watch after Valoll and make sure she was taken care of. It was a sweet notion, but Valoll felt slightly off about knowing the girl could sneak into her room without waking her up. Valoll was a light sleeper, it was the prey-paranoia in her thinking such a way, but that girl was quieter than a shadow.
Haven was cold, but not as cold as she expected. There was patches of snow on the ground and on rooftops, but she had not seen it snow during her time in the village. Her breath came out in small clouds of white, nose running red from the chill that set in her extremities. It wasn't cold, but when that wind blew down from the mountain it dropped the temperature noticeably for a few moments.
She smiled in passing to Varric, the dwarf sitting beside his fire with a pad of parchment propped up on his knee. He softly returned it, but seemed lost in his thoughts immediately after. Valoll didn't disturb his writing.
Cassandra was more than likely training the new volunteers with the Commander, if the loud grunts and clangs of metal on wood were any indication. Leliana was gathering reports from her spies and issuing orders, spreading news throughout Thedas of the Inquisition's reinstatement. From what little she understood from the writ of the Divine, Valoll gathered that the last Inquisition had broken apart centuries ago as it melded with the Chantry and formed what was now the Templars and the Seekers – Cullen and Cassandra.
The two warriors had very different views of the world, of how they should handle the oncoming battle and war between the Mages and Templars, but they also held similar views with Valoll and between themselves.
"I see the chosen of Andraste has come," a deep voice said off to her left, and Valoll had to pause for a moment. She felt the shiver of déjà vu. Looking up, Solas stood at the top of a small set of stairs carved into boulders. Valoll had already visited Adan and spoken to him about healing potions and handed off Master Tegan's notes when she happened across them while looking for the logging stand just outside Haven for Threnn. Solas had not been in his small hut during that, and now that she thought about it, she had seen very little of him during the week. They had spoken very briefly, namely for introductions, back at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and nothing more.
There was the slightest bit of mirth in his voice, and it made her lips quirk as she stepped toward him. "The blessed hero sent to save us all," he continued and it made a laugh bubble up from her belly.
"I don't see myself riding in on a shining steed anytime soon," she replied, coming to a stop a comfortable distance away.
"I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they are extinct."
"I'm sure I could find one of those famous Grey Wardens I hear so much about, somewhere near by if I needed a substitute."
His eyes flashed with a humored glint. Curious dark brown met molten copper. They both questioned themselves of why they had never spoken together before.
He turned away from her, looking out over the expanse of Haven. Another shiver caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle.
"Every great war has its heroes," he began, voice creating a story that swirling in the snow around them. "I've travelled deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields, living through the dreams of lost civilizations." His hands clasped behind his back. "Dreams of battles both famous and forgotten." He turned back to Valoll.
"What kind of ruins?" She asked, interested. Valoll remembered the many she came across, the few that some Dalish used as camps. Had they seen the same ruins?
He seemed pleased at her question. "Any building strong enough to stand the test of time has a story. Battlefields are heavy with spirit activity, they press against the Veil, weakening the barrier that separates our worlds. When I dream in such places, I see things no other living being has ever seen."
Valoll could understand the Dalish sleeping in ruins, they had probably done so for generations and had each other to watch their backs. But doing so alone? "Isn't that dangerous? Falling sleep in the middle of ancient ruins, I mean."
The mirth returned. "I do set wards, and as long as you leave out food for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live."
Valoll nodded, understanding that. She had done the same for countless nights, but even then her fear of such an enormous creature tend to make her sleeps restless.
"That's a very impressive feat, falon. Then again, I may be biased. I don't remember much of my time in the Fade, if any at all."
He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, almost as if the meaning behind her words had shocked him like lightning.
"You don't remember your dreams?"
Valoll shook her head, crossing her arms with a prickle of heat attacked the tips of her ears. He looked past her for a moment.
"Finding the remnants of a thousand-year old dream is worth more than anyone could ever trade me."
She almost thought he was gloating, but the way he said it... there was the slightest crack in his voice.
"I am curious to see what kind dream this war will leave behind, what kind of hero you will be in the coming years."
Hopefully a good one, she thought, but the way he looked at her told her she had said it aloud. He didn't mention it.
"I will stay then, at least until the Breach is closed."
Valoll felt a frown. "Was that ever in doubt?"
He looks to her with pursed lips. "I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a Mage Rebellion." Valoll felt the heat on her ears trickle to her neck and cheeks. Of course, you idiot. "Cassandra has been accommodating, but I'm sure you can understand my caution now."
"Cassandra will help keep you in favorable light. She owes you that much, as well as I." She shifted from one foot to the other. "I would like us to become friends, Solas. You can trust me."
He said nothing, his face almost expressionless as he searched her, looked for a tell of a lie or for a secret motive, but instead he found sincerity, something he hadn't seen in a very long time.
"You continue to surprise me, Valoll."
She smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." With a parting nod, she walked away, rounding toward the chantry. There she found the Left and Right Hands of the Divine talking quietly to one another. Cassandra was bristling with what seemed to be anger, but Leliana had a calm and cool expression. At the sight of Valoll walking up, Leliana cut the conversation and Cassandra seemed to bow up even more.
"Herald. Josephine was looking for you. She is in her office, if you will go speak to her. When you are done, come find Cassandra or I and we will get you on the road to the Crossroads."
Valoll nodded and changed her course yet again. The two Hands went back to their quiet arguing, one a fist and the other relaxed but ready to reach for a poison laced dagger.
Inside the chantry, a few clerics were huddled behind a column to fight the cold, their heads together as they whispered prayers. Valoll stepped past them silently, careful not to pull attention to herself, and then she stepped into the side office that was shared by the Ambassador and the Demon Researcher.
"My lady! I was looking for you earlier. I had a few questions to ask."
The elf nodded and took a seat in front of Josephine's desk, readying herself for the many unanswered questions she knew she would be asked.
"We don't know much about you, as I'm well aware you know. You told Seeker Pentaghast that you awoke a year ago with no memory." Valoll nodded in confirmation. Josephine continued. "Many nobles who are interested in supporting us find this strange and are uneasy at your unknown identity. They wish to put a name to a face, and cannot do so."
"What are you suggesting, Miss Montilyet?"
"Please, do call me Josephine."
"Only if you call me Valoll."
The ambassador seemed to tense but nodded, returning to the topic at hand.
"Is there any clan you know of that would welcome you as one of their own? I'm certain you've come across a few who would help give you a stable, ah, home clan, I believe is the word."
Valoll shook her head but paused. There was one... "The Lavellans," she said, almost too soft to even hear herself. Josephine leaned forward, quill ready. "The Lavellans. A clan in the northern part of the Arbor Wilds. I stayed with them for some months, not too long ago. They moved further west, but they shouldn't be too hard to find again."
"I will send a messenger right away. Is there anything you would like me to put in for you?"
Valoll stilled, head searching for the words. "'Thank you'," she said, and Josephine nodded, hand already spelling out a letter to the clan. "Is that all you needed?"
Josephine wrote a few more words before pausing. "Are you being treated well here in Haven?" Valoll raised a brow in question at what she meant. Josephine chose her words carefully. "Has anyone, ah... called you 'knife-ear'? Treated you unfairly? Mistaken you for a servant?"
Valoll had to cover her mouth so not to laugh too loudly. Josephine seemed flush.
"Josephine, please. I'm certain no one could mistake me for a servant." She help up her left hand. The green glow washed over her tan face, turning her brown eyes a strange mixture of green and gold.
"I am just looking out for you, Valoll."
She snickered again at the way Josephine said her name. Standing, Valoll leaned forward to speak softly. "You can call me, Val. Save you a bit of the trouble."
Josephine almost looked relieved, nodding. The two said their farewells and the elf went looking for the Hands of the Divine. They had moved away from in front of Leliana's tent, the spymaster nowhere to be seen, but Valoll could see the top of Cassandra's head in front of Varric's camp fire, the dwarf speaking animatedly, his broad hands moving around as he pulled some bullshit story out of his ass and the Seeker wasn't taking any of it.
Valoll walked to them, taking her time, and by the time she returned, Cassandra had opened her mouth to yell at the nonsense that spilled from his lips, but Varric interrupted her.
"Firefly! Ready to get this show on the road?"
Valoll paused. "Firefly?"
"Yeah, you know, the glowing hand thing." He motioned to his own left hand, and she raised her own to look at it. The mark, while it left no physical mark other than the permanent glow, did tingle at the thought. She left out a a loud exhale of air and lowered it back to her side. "So, uh, let's get moving. No time like the present."
"Should I go get Solas?"
"No need. I am here."
Vallol looked over her shoulder at the other elf, and she smiled to herself at the sight of him. He had a relaxing presence. She repositioned her bow across her chest and did a double check of her arrows in her quiver. She had her new satchel hanging at her side, a bedroll resting on the small of her back.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?"