I don't own anything but my character.
As I re-watch all the DAI scenes, I only get more frustrated with Solas. At the same time, I can't help but think of how fun it would be if the Inquisitor, with all the knowledge of the Fen'harel stuff, went back in time and fucked with him. Like cursing "Fen'harel's ballsack!" or "Wow Solas, you're quite the lone wolf huh?" Wouldn't that just be hilarious? *snickers evilly*
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At the first cry of birds in the morning, Lavellan was awake. Eyes flying open, she half expected Mirath, Deshanna's first, to come barreling into her tent with a bucket of icy water, ready to splash Lavellan awake with its contents. As usual, Mirath would fail to succeed in dowsing Lavellan with the morning bucket, as Lavellan was always able to dodge her and then trip her into the soaking wet blankets. Then Lavellan would complain to Mirath about having to dry her sheets for the (insert number here)-nth time.
But there was only silence.
Reality came crashing down on Lavellan like a rockslide, and she heaved a great sigh as she crawled out from under the blankets. Her leather jerkin creaked with the movement, familiar aches making themselves known in the morning. Stumbling over to the corner where her things lay, Lavellan began the slow process of putting on her armor, layer by layer, buckle by buckle.
Again, the familiar practice almost made her forget her current situation. She retrieved her daggers from under the blanket and pillow, replacing them onto her belt and the harness on her back. She dared not imagine what her hair looked like at the moment, as she pulled it over her shoulder and began to comb through it with her fingers. With quick and practiced movements, she pulled her hair back into a braid, entwining the strands down the back of her head and then allowing the rest to fall down her back.
Finally, she exited her tent, inhaling the morning mist that hung in the air and cast the world into a dull grey and muted all sound. There was dew on the ground and on the trees, enhancing the sharp scent of pine that seemed to energize her with each whiff. There were only two scouts on patrol at the moment, as it was still very early in the morning.
Somewhere, a horse stomped its hoof and whickered lowly. Lavellan grabbed her pack and checked over its contents, noting what needed to be replaced or replenished. She downed the last of the water in her canteen, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it out on the grass in order to get rid of that awful morning taste.
It is so much like before, and yet so different. The elleth thought to herself with uncharacteristic melancholy. She glanced at the tents around camp, noting that they all remained undisturbed. The grass in front of their flaps was un-crunched, the dew still present on the leaves.
I always told Deshanna that the Dalish wake at ungodly hours. Lavellan thought amusedly as she ambled over to one of the supplies tables and began to fill her pack. The two scouts on watch nodded to her in acknowledgment, but did not speak. The stillness of the morning seemed impenetrable.
Thank the gods, they have health potions here! She fingered the fresh poultices, although she still had several from when she had left Haven the day before. However she did spy a fresh whetstone, and snatched that up quickly and stored it in her pack. One never knew when their blade would need sharpening.
With her pack filled to an acceptable degree, she left it by the supply table and took her canteen over to a small ravine which ran next to a makeshift paddock. Roughly cut tree limbs made up the fence, which was more for show than an actual barrier. If the horses spooked, they could easily knock over the fence.
The ravine itself was just run-off from the snow that melted and flowed down from the mountains, wearing trails into the rock over time and created a drain in the cliff face. One of these trails dripped off of a rock outcrop, creating a steady trickle that Lavellan held her open canteen under. Even after she had filled her canteen, she remained there for a moment, just listening to the sound of dripping water and the shhp-shhp of horses ripping up blades of grass and nibbling on them.
Only when the sun peaked through the clouds did Lavellan decide to head back, topping her canteen and walking slowly back to the camp, pausing briefly to pat one of the horses.
When she returned, she noted that Cassandra and Solas were already up. Cassandra was standing by the supply table, speaking lowly to one of the scouts. Her pack was beside her, already replenished. Solas was sitting on a nearby rock outcrop, and looked as if he was meditating.
Lavellan approached the Seeker, the scout leaving just as she reached them.
"It is good to see that you are already up." Cassandra noted casually.
"The Dalish always did wake up at ungodly hours." Lavellan mused, repeating her earlier thoughts.
Cassandra nodded. "Not surprising. I see that you have also resupplied your things as well. Now we are just waiting for that lazy dwarf to wake up."
Right on cue, the flap to Varric's tent slipped open.
"No need to start pointing fingers so early in the morning." The dwarf griped, obviously not a morning person. He turned and ambled away from the camp, probably to relieve himself. Bianca was already strapped to his back, much to Lavellan's amusement.
I think that crossbow is actually one of his limbs. A little voice inside her head quipped.
"We have much to do." The Seeker drew her attention. "The mage-templar war has consumed much of the valley. We will have to scour the entire region to enforce order."
The elleth nodded in agreement. "We should head to the Crossroads first, however. Not only is Mother Giselle there, but it is also the center of the relief efforts for the refugees. If we can secure that area, then people will have a place to turn to as they flee the conflict."
"That was my thinking as well." Cassandra told her, sounding mildly impressed.
Lavellan glanced at the sky, noting the position of the sun. It was still cresting the mountain peaks, meaning that they still had a long day ahead of them. She bent down to pick up her pack, just a small and lightweight pouch that she kept strapped to her belt on her lower back. Anything more would hinder her movements in fighting.
"Let's get moving."
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They encountered a few mages and templars on their way to the Crossroads, but it was only when they reached the town did they realize the magnitude of the situation. Templars and mages were dueling in the road without any care towards the poor townspeople who were dodging blades and magic left and right. A few of the local men had picked up their swords and were attempting to push both sides out of town, however they were rather ineffective.
"Look there!" Cassandra pointed, and they noticed a few more professionally armored men descending into the fray. "Those are our soldiers."
Lavellan recognized the now-familiar eyeball crest upon their breastplates, and that awful orange tailoring that seemed to be popular with Inquisition soldiers for some reason.
"Well, what are we standing around here for, then?" The elleth asked rhetorically as she drew her blades.
They ran forward into the battle, Cassandra engaging an armored templar while Varric began shooting at mages, Solas casting barriers on his allies while Lavellan crept up behind a templar and sunk her dagger into the opening between his helmet and neck. The fighting was indeed chaos, the templars fighting the mages, and the Inquisition forces fighting both the mages and templars. With the Inquisition soldiers added to the equation, the templars and mages seemed torn in who to attack first, giving the Inquisition the advantage.
"Look out!" Varric warned, and Lavellan immediately dodged, hearing the crackle of ice behind her. Turning, she saw the templar behind her was frozen solid.
Without thinking, she slammed her blades into his back, shattering him. She did not bother to glance at the icy pieces of flesh and intestines that he left behind, as the mage that had sent the ice spell was attacking her now. Lavellan danced and dodged, feeling her skin prickle as the chill from the spells soared past her. Despite the fact that she had not taken any damage yet, she could not get close enough to the mage to stop them, as the barrage of spells sailing towards her kept her at bay.
"A little help here!" She gasped between pants, her stamina running out, and she had little time to pause and take a potion.
Suddenly lightning cracked through the air, darting over her head and slamming into the enemy mage, making his muscles seize up uncontrollably. Lavellan darted forward at the opening, daggers flashing as she sliced the mage's neck. Spinning around, she looked behind her and saw Solas give her a reassuring look.
A templar rogue was creeping up behind him, and without thinking, Lavellan drew one of her smaller blades and let it fly. It nearly nicked Solas' ear as it shot over the wizard's shoulder and drilled into the templar's forehead. Solas whirled around in that same moment, following the trajectory of the blade and finally noticing the man behind him – who was now very much dead.
His head swiveled around to glance at Lavellan, who sent him a wink before she darted back into the battle. Cassandra was struggling against two templar warriors, and Varric had teamed up with one of the Inquisition's archers to rain arrows down on a group of spellcasters. Lavellan ran forward and jumped into a flip, landing right behind one of the men attacking Cassandra and slitting the back of his knees. Those tendons severed, the man fell forward helplessly, and Lavellan was on him in a second, grabbing the back of his head and yanking it up to expose his neck, slitting his throat.
A shadow fell across her, and she dodged before a sword could slice her head off. Rolling forward, she leapt back up in time to see Cassandra intercept the templar behind her and bash him with her shield. The man went flying, and Lavellan darted after him faster than he could recover, tripping him while he was disoriented and making him fall forward, and in the same movement she drove her blade into the small gap between the chest plates and up into his heart. She felt his arms flail against her, before he fell limp.
Yanking her dagger out, she quickly wiped off the blood on the templar's skirt, before returning them to their sheaths. Turning around, her eyes counted each of her companions.
"Everyone still alive?" She called.
Cassandra's eyes lingered on the dead templar, before she looked up and met her gaze. "Indeed. You fight well, Lavellan."
The elleth nodded in thanks.
"I'm still breathing." Varric muttered as she approached them, Solas following silently behind him.
Lavellan glanced around them, noting that the villagers had begun emerging from their hiding places while the Inquisition soldiers began gathering the wounded and taking them up to a house that sat on a ledge overlooking the main road. There were several cots set up on the ledge, with people attending the injured.
I bet Mother Giselle is somewhere up there.
Lavellan glanced back at her companions and then jerked her chin in the direction of the hospice. They followed her as she ascended the stairs, immediately noticing a woman in bright red Chantry robes kneeling next to an injured Inquisition scout.
"There are mages here who can heal your wounds." She told him in a gentle voice. "Lie still."
"Don't let them touch me, Mother!" The man panicked. "Their magic –"
A healer mage standing behind the woman crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, obviously having dealt with such difficult patients before.
The cleric shook her head. "Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."
"But –"
"Hush, dear boy." The Mother scolded him. "Let him ease your suffering."
The young man reluctantly nodded and lay back on the cot, and the mage approached with glowing hands. Meanwhile, the cleric turned around, her gaze falling on Lavellan and her companions.
"Mother Giselle, I presume?" The elleth greeted her.
"I am." The kind lady smiled at her. "And you must be the one they are calling 'The Herald of Andraste'."
Oh, well this is awkward. Lavellan shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous title. She glanced at the mage standing behind the woman as he tended to the injured, and then noted how at ease this Chantry woman was despite his presence.
Lavellan cocked her head. "You are not against magic?" She inquired, genuinely curious.
"Magic is not evil." Mother Giselle spoke in a lecturing voice. "We teach that pride is evil, and it does not corrupt only mages."
'We' meaning the Chantry? I think you need to revisit what some of your peers say about magic, lady. Lavellan thought with an inward chuckle.
Mother Giselle motioned with her hand for Lavellan to follow her. The two women walked away from the hospice, speaking in hushed tones.
"I know of the Chantry's denouncement." Mother Giselle told her. "I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming Divine. But others are simply terrified – so many Chantry members died at the Conclave, many of them leaders among the clerics."
"The Chantry is without guidance." Lavellan nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. "I understand that."
The cleric sighed. "Fear makes us desperate. But hopefully not beyond reason."
Then you hope too much, messere.
"Go to Val Royeaux." Mother Giselle urged the elleth. "Convince them that you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you – give them something else to believe."
Lavellan snorted derisively in response. "You want me to appeal to them? I'm an elf, a Dalish no less. They will hate me by default."
"If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn't suggest it." Mother Giselle reassured her. "You do not need to convince all of them. You just need some of them to doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them."
Divide and conquer? Not such a nice little priestess after all, are you? The elleth thought amusedly. Your gentle tone belies your cunning. Smart woman. I can respect that.
"You are not wrong in that." Lavellan murmured, staring into the distance. "That is… that is a wise solution. Although I am surprised that you would help to undermine the authority of the Chantry."
The Chantry woman shrugged. "I don't know if you've been touched by Fate or sent to help us, but I hope." Mother Giselle told the elf. "The people listen to your rallying call. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us."
Chills ran down Lavellan's spine, and she frowned at the foreboding feeling.
"I will go to Haven once I am done here, and provide Leliana with the names of the more approachable clerics." The cleric continued as she began to walk away. "I will do whatever I can to help."
Lavellan was left standing on a ledge overlooking the main road of the village, the people meandering below her to aid the relief efforts. Glancing around for her companions, she noted that Solas had joined the healers by the hospice, Cassandra was speaking to a few of the Inquisition soldiers, and Varric was leaning against one of the houses, not-so-subtly listening in on her conversation with Mother Giselle.
The elleth approached him. "What did you think?" She asked the dwarf.
Varric shrugged as he pushed off the wall and dug his hands into the pockets of his coat. "I don't think she has any ulterior motives."
Lavellan shook her head. "No, neither do I."
"She believes that what she is doing is right." Varric continued as he and the elleth began to walk towards the Inquisition soldiers. "Let's just hope that we do not disappoint her."
"Please control your optimism." Lavellan drawled in a dry voice. They reached the Inquisition soldiers just in time to hear Cassandra order them to begin aiding in rebuilding the village.
The Seeker turned to face them. "We have much to do." She told them. "The town is desperately low on supplies. I have spoken with several of the men – they need food, blankets, medicine."
Lavellan heaved another sigh. Great, more things for my to-do list. I didn't realize saving the world meant I would be assigned chores non-stop.
"They have also warned us to watch our backs on the King's Road." Cassandra pointed north beyond the ridge. "That is where the in-fighting is worst. Mages and templars have both made camp somewhere within the vicinity of that area. If we take those out, we can at least secure some measure of peace in the region."
"Then we'll start by wiping out both camps." Lavellan decided. The elf glanced at the sky and noted the position of the sun; it was near noon. "But first, let's grab some lunch."
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They rest of the day was spent in a blur. After filling their stomachs, Lavellan and her companions headed out for the King's Road. A person couldn't even take five steps without running into mage-templar conflict. It seemed like every time they defeated one group, another would arrive. Eventually, after looting several of the bodies (much to Cassandra's disapproval) Lavellan found a note that revealed the location of the mage camp.
The rebel mages had begun calling the area 'Witch-Wood', to which Lavellan and Varric were highly amused. At least the mages got points for creativity. Although as they approached the area, Lavellan wondered how the templars could miss the obvious signs of magic – frozen ponds, despite it being a hot day, random icicles hanging from tree limbs, glowing wisps of magic bobbing in the shadows. It all just screamed 'secret mage headquarters this way!'. Really, did these mages not know anything about subtly?
After taking out several of the magicians on watch, Lavellan approached the entrance to the super-secret-but-not-so-secret lair of the mages. Except when she went to step into the cave, something slammed into her.
Whump!
Lavellan fell backwards onto her butt, her head snapping up to stare in bewilderment at the empty tunnel. "What the…?"
"Tis a barrier." Solas murmured behind her.
Lavellan heard the sound of a dwarf snickering behind her, and turned to shoot Varric a dirty look. She got back on her feet and hesitantly pushed her hands forward, her fingers coming into contact with an invisible and hard surface. With her fingers touching the barrier, Lavellan could see the barely-perceptible film of magic that stretched across the entire surface of the cave's entrance. Ripples of light pulsed from where her fingers pressed against the barrier.
"If you would allow me…" Solas stepped forward, leveling his staff at the invisible wall. The elleth quickly darted out of his way, just as the apostate sent forth a ball of magic. It collided with the barrier, the magic erupting with sparks before the barrier seemed to burst apart.
Solas seemed immensely pleased with himself. "After you." He motioned her forward. Ass.
Lavellan walked forward with wary eyes, wondering if anyone had heard the barrier explode. She unsheathed her daggers and stepped into the cave, sneaking forward to scout how many mages were in the camp.
There were less than expected, only ten mages lingered within the large cave, a few of them asleep. Lavellan slipped into one of the tents and slit the throats of two of the mages that were slumbering within. She poked her head out of the tent flap and noticed that her companions were waiting quietly in the shadows of the cave entrance, still unnoticed by the mages. She caught Varric's eyes and motioned for him to take aim at one of the mages, while she snuck up behind another one.
Lavellan leapt out of the shadows and brought her daggers down on the mage, just as Varric fired his bolt into the next one.
The cave erupted into chaos as the rebel mages snatched up their weapons and began fighting back. Cassandra's training meant that she easily deflected their magical bolts of lightning and fire with her shield, Lavellan dodging flying icicles, while Solas cast protective wards over his companions.
"Die!" A mage yelled from the back of the cave, and Lavellan turned just in time to see him summon up a wall of flame.
Holy shit! She let out a gasp as she scrambled away from the growing flames, which were crawling closer and closer to her position.
"Hey twinkle-fingers!" She yelled over her shoulder at Solas. "Over here!"
The apostate turned his attention towards the flames. His hands began to glow blue, frost flaky off of his skin as he swept his arms in an arc, a blast of cold air and bright magic shooting forward. A wall of ice rose up to counteract the flames, the heat melting the ice into water which then soaked the ground and put out the fire.
As the flames died out, the rebel mage behind the attack attempted to run, but a well-placed bolt flew past Lavellan and sank into his neck. Blood spurted forth as the mage collapsed onto the ground. The elf turned around to face her dwarven companion, Varric smirking at his work.
"Search the place." Lavellan commanded her companions.
Cassandra was already checking each of the bodies for clues about mage movements, or magical and cursed objects. Such things were dangerous if left in the open. Varric, ever the rogue, immediately began to sack the personal contents that the mages had left behind, unlocking chests and rummaging through pockets. Lavellan glanced up at the approach of her fellow elf. When Solas locked eyes with her, he raised an eyebrow at her imperiously.
"Twinkle-fingers?" He asked dryly.
Lavellan snickered. "Appropriate, no?"
"My name is Solas." The elf told her in a rather unamused voice. "I would prefer it if you would address me as such."
"Tough luck then." Lavellan shrugged, walking away to loot through the cave. "Thanks for the save, by the way!"
Solas grumbled unhappily behind her. Honestly, he was so easy to rile up. She simply could not help herself.
After clearing out the mage camp, Lavellan and her companions headed back to the Crossroads, restocking on healing potions before they set out to hunt down the templar camp. They found it with relative ease, as it was not nearly as inconspicuous as the mage camp had been. Personally, it was easier for Lavellan to fight against Templars than mages. As a rogue, she specialized in slipping around bulky armor and slipping her blades between the cracks in the metal plating. Mages were harder to fight, with all their unpredictable spells and wards.
The templar camp was easily taken out, with only a few broken ribs for Lavellan and a black eye for Cassandra. Varric and Solas, the lucky bastards, were long-range fighters, and did not have to worry about such injuries.
With both the templars and the mages dealt with, the Kings Road was relatively safe now. Crossing the broken bridge across the ravine next to the templar camp, Lavellan and her companions found themselves on Master Dennet's farms. There was a large and empty field nearby that was a perfect place to set up camp, according to Cassandra.
However before they could set up camp, they needed to speak to the horse master. They found Master Dennet and his wife up at the main house. His wife greeted them first, tending to the garden beside their house. After being invited inside the house, Lavellan and Cassandra met with Dennet.
He agreed to aid the Inquisition, however he had a few terms that had to be met first. Obviously, moving a large herd of fine horses was a dangerous task. Each horse was worth their weight in gold, and if even one was lost, it would cost a fortune. Any stray mage, templar, or bandit would kill to acquire a horse of such breeding. If the Inquisition was going to buy Master Dennet's horses, they needed a secure passage for the horses to be transferred from the Hinterlands to the Frostbacks. That meant not only clearing the mage-templar conflict as much as possible, but also taking care of any bandits along the path of travel, as well as supplying a troop of soldiers large enough to protect the herd. In the meantime, however, Master Dennet provided a horse for Lavellan to use, free of charge – a sign of goodwill, and a promise of business.
Thanking the horse master for his time, Lavellan and Cassandra bid him farewell. During their conversation with Master Dennet, Solas and Varric had been outside, watching for any mage or templars that might try to attack the farm.
"What did he say?" Varric asked them when they exited the main house.
Lavellan sighed. "We still have a lot of work to do."
"We must secure the Hinterlands entirely before it will be safe enough to have the horses transported back to our headquarters." Cassandra informed the dwarf and apostate. "But at least we gained an ally on this day."
I don't know how much help Mother Giselle will be. Lavellan frowned. I'm not even sure of how much sway she holds within the Chantry.
Glancing at the sky, she noticed that the sun was setting.
"We better return to camp." Lavellan told her companions. "We still have much to do before we can return to Haven. Hopefully with horses for a cavalry."
They turned away from the farmhouse and began to walk away from Dennet's farm. They trekked another hour back to their first camp, on the hill above Redcliffe village. When they returned, Cassandra met with Scout Harding to mark the spots on their maps where they had found good camping spots. In the morning, while Lavellan and her companions were securing the Hinterlands, Harding and her people would head out to the designated areas and establish proper camps there.
This time, Lavellan was the first one to turn in for the night. She crawled into her tent, just wanting to avoid all the people around her. The whole 'Herald' shit was still strange to her, and she had noticed several of the Inquisition's scouts eyeing her with awe – and that made her extremely uncomfortable.
Lying on her back, staring up at the top of her tent, Lavellan gave a low groan and rubbed her forehead.
Why am I even here? She thought, turning on her side and staring at the unfamiliar armor, the unfamiliar daggers, and the unfamiliar tent. She couldn't help but feel like Fate had made a terrible mistake.
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