Heroes come in many forms

by BloodyMarryMe

The Clan was his everything, and he thought his biggest duty in life would be to keep them safe. Then a damn tear in the sky happened and suddenly Nym's world got a lot bigger. Now he needs to protect shems and save the world, while hiding the fact that he's just making it all up as he goes. But hey, at least he has a snarky dwarf and a giant pounding machine by his side!

10. Never trust a Vint - unless he has style

Hello everyone. Yep, the new chapter is already up and this one is pretty long, so enjoy!

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CHAPTER 10

Never trust a Vint...unless he has style

"So this is Redcliffe Village," Nym gazed up at the iron gates rising on the horizon.

"It's smaller than I expected," Varric noted beside him.

They walked on the cobblestone road, leading their horses by the reins, as the wall of the Redcliffe Village finally appeared before them.

"I heard this village was attacked by the undead ten years ago, during the Blight. It suffered great devastation and losses then. A lot of people still haven't completely recovered from that time," Cassandra stated.

The roguish elf stiffened at the mention of the undead. After their excursion to the Fallow Mire, he had enough of walking corpses for a lifetime.

The Iron Bull squinted his one eye as he focused on something in the distance. "Someone's coming."

Solas noticed them too and asked in wonder, "A person?"

The group stopped on the road as they saw a woman in armor running towards them in panic. Or rather, it looked like she was running from something. "Help me! Someone help!" As she came close, they could see she wore armor of a guardsman, coming from the direction of Redcliffe Village. She stumbled on the road, practically falling at Nymrodel's feet. "Help!" There were tears in her eyes as she screamed.

Lavellan and Cassandra helped her up. They could feel the woman trembling under her armor.

"Calm down and speak, soldier! What is the matter," the Seeker demanded.

Nym expected Varric to make some comment on Cassandra's brash behavior, but he didn't. Glancing at the dwarf, he saw the man staring at something beyond, near the gates.

"D-Demons! Demons at the gates," the woman barely forced her sentence out, stuttering all the while.

Following Varric's gaze, Nym saw exactly what the guardswoman was talking about. There was a large rift right outside Redcliffe, with numerous demons spawning out of it. "Din'dhru," he whispered, his eyes wide in bewilderment. A rift simply had to appear now of all times! Even their horses could feel something unnerving nearby and became restless.

The rest of his group also noticed it, as they saw the newly-appeared demons bash at the Village gates, trying to break their way in.

"We need to kill those things. Now," Bull growled, his dark eye hardening in its gaze.

Nym nodded, "Let's go."

The Seeker held the guardswoman by the shoulders, bringing her panicked attention back to herself. "You stay here until it is safe. Mind the horses."

The woman nodded in relief, thankful to be left out of that battle. She took the reins of the horses, trying to calm the animals down as best she could.

Meanwhile, the Inquisition group charged towards the demons, all of them unsheathing their weapons.

Prying at the gate bars was a Terror demon, trying to slice at the guards on the other side, when it heard footsteps behind it. It turned its head, opening its maws filled with small, yet sharp teeth, and let out a terrifying screech. Its scream was cut off as a throwing knife came flying, piercing one of its many white eyes. The demon stumbled backwards, but soon recuperated, and bent towards the ground. It tore the Veil with its long claws like it was a thin film of paper, creating a shimmering portal beneath its feet. Then it slid in, disappearing from sight.

"It's coming," Nym warned, as he threw another knife at a nearby Shade, before taking both dual daggers into his hands.

"On it!" Right as a large Shade demon came at them, Bull jumped in the air. His sturdy axe fell down, burying itself into the demon's head with all of Bull's weight. The ground shook as the giant Qunari landed, pulling his weapon out of the demon that turned into a puddle of black goo.

Beside him, Cassandra bashed her shield into another Great Shade demon, then stepped back to create some space between them, and sliced with her sword at the monster. One slash cut into the Shade's shoulder, making the thing roar and leap at her with its clawed hands. She pulled back again and raised her shield to block the attack, then pushed at the demon with it and pierced with her sword, stabbing through the Shade's chest this time. Her rhythm never faltered as she switched between defense and offense. Cassandra's style was complete opposite of the Iron Bull's, who mostly used offense to deal with his opponents, yet each warrior was equally deadly in their own way.

Traveling past them were Bianca's arrows as Varric stayed behind and rained his vicious bolts at the incoming demons.

Nym ran up to the first Wraith, slashing it with both daggers from each side. He passed right through it as the Wraith soundlessly dispersed and returned back to the rift. He suddenly disappeared in his run, only to reappear a few meters further down the road, nearing another Wraith. He jumped in the air and mid-air, vanished again, avoiding the Wraith's blast of energy towards him. As he reappeared above the spirit, he landed on it with his two daggers piercing its translucent frame. Analyzing the battlefield, he judged he had some time and sheathed one dagger, freeing his left hand. *I can weaken the rift.* He brought his marked hand towards the fade rift and felt his mark pulse as energy swelled up inside it. With an electric sound, a connection between his palm and the rift was made.

He miscalculated. In his haste to weaken and close the fade rift, he forgot he was left open for the incoming attacks. Normal demons he could easily see coming and dodge, but Terrors were different. He learned that the hard way. Bright green light from beneath blinded him and the elf looked down to see a portal opening underneath him. He gasped, closing his left hand to break the connection with the rift and escape. He stepped back and tried to jump backwards, but something was wrong. He was sure he leaped from the ground, yet he was barely above it. He glanced at his feet and gaped in confusion when he realized his body was floating in the air. It was moving, but slowly. Everything seemed to be in slow-motion.

*W-what is the meaning of this!? How?* Nym watched in bewilderment as his own body refused to move any quicker than this. In horror, he saw the Terror demon slowly peering its horrific head from the portal beneath his feet. Just like him, it was moving in an agonizingly slow pace. *Ah, at least the Terror isn't any faster,* he mentally sighed in relief.

Yet it seemed the Creators weren't on his side today. Just as he thought that, everything around him went back to normal. He yelped, unprepared for this, and instead of dodging backwards, he fell on his back, just as the Terror jumped out of its portal.

The rogue elf let out a surprised grunt as he landed on his back, then his breath hitched when he saw the tall Terror towering over him with menace. It was unlike any other Terror demon he fought so far. This one was taller and larger in all aspects, with something like horns branching out of its head. Its dark-green scraggy skin looked thicker than that of other Terrors. By all accounts, this Terror demon appeared stronger and tougher than any he encountered before. It unhinged its long jaws, showing rows of sharp teeth, and let out an ear-piercing screech. Nym's blood froze at the sight above him as he watched the demon with wide eyes. He gulped, his heart loudly beating in his chest, and he was sure his big eyes mirrored the fright he was feeling inside. *I won't make it,* he realized, seeing the demon rise its clawed hands above him. His ears were still ringing from its loud scream. *I'm going to die!* Shutting his eyes tightly as if to deny what was happening, he awaited the demon's piercing claws.

Yet the blow never came. He opened one eye carefully, peering above him. Then both his eyes widened when he saw the scene before him; the Terror demon was engulfed in ice, its claws only inches from Nym's chest where it tried to rip his heart out. The elf shuddered, staring at the foreboding ice statue in a daze.

"Young master Nym," Solas called out in worry, right as he froze the menacing creature with his spell.

"Boss!" A rough voice came from behind the frozen demon as Bull swung his axe, slashing at the Greater Terror and slicing it in half. After blacksmith Harritt smoothed the nicks and sharpened the edges, it was in an even better condition than before. The axe went through the frozen demon like paper, splitting it in two large pieces.

Shattered chips of ice rained on Nym, but the elf couldn't look away. He never saw the Iron Bull so up-close when fighting before. He saw his bulky arms swinging the giant axe with ease, as if it's nothing but a feather, his muscles flexing at the strain when he put his strength into the swing. There was a hint of bloodlust in his stormy eye, while his metallic eyepatch glistened in the sun. The impressive horns on the Qunari reminded Nym of those ogre darkspawn he saw the pictures of when he was a child. Yet the whole scene didn't frighten him. Instead, he was in awe at the sight. It was like watching raw power being unleashed, and it left him breathless for a moment.

As the last of the frozen demon crumbled, the Qunari appeared from behind, resting the weapon on his shoulder and offering Nym his other hand.

The elf breathed in relief. *I'm saved,* he thought perhaps the Creators hadn't abandoned him, after all. By taking Bull's hand, he was easily flung up to his feet as if weightless.

"You ok, Boss," the Qunari asked nonchalantly, as if being almost sliced open by a demon was a normal day for him. Perhaps for the mercenary captain, it truly was.

"That was far too close," Nym muttered, wiping some sweat off his brow. Scanning the battlefield, he realized all of the demons were defeated. "I need to close the rift," he exclaimed in sudden realization and ran over to it, letting his mark do the work.

With an explosion, the bright rip in the air closed. He turned back to take his dual dagger from the ground. "I thought I was a goner. Thanks, you two," he spoke to Bull and Solas while cleaning and sheathing back his weapons.

"More importantly, what in the nug's ass was that!?" Varric jogged up to the group, staring at the air where the fade rift was a moment ago. Any trace of it or the demons disappeared, as if nothing ever happened.

"Everything just became slower…like trying to fight under water," the rogue elf tried to explain the best he could.

"I felt the opposite. Suddenly, while fighting, my movements became much faster…but so did the demons," Cassandra explained.

"I don't know, but hopefully, someone inside will have the answers," Nym said darkly as he stared at the iron gates of Redcliffe. He didn't like how their mission began. They barely arrived and already there were demons and inexplicable fade rifts after them. He didn't want to think this might've all been a trap, but the thought had occurred to him. It didn't make much sense, though; why would Grand Enchanter Fiona call them all the way here just to lure them into a trap? His musings were interrupted by a cheerful exclaim.

"You did it!" The guardswoman came running towards them, dragging their horses behind her. "W-who are you people?"

"We are agents of the Inquisition, here to see Grand Enchanter Fiona," the Seeker explained.

"The Inquisition!? Then…the one who closed that tear in the Veil just now…," she turned to look at the Dalish elf with pure amazement in her eyes. "The Herald of Andraste! I should've known! I…I'll let you in immediately," she stumbled over her words, too astonished by the sight of them to speak properly.

Heading towards the gates, she shouted at the guards in the village, "You there, open these gates immediately!" After a while of shuffling and shouting from the other side, the gates of Redcliffe finally opened.

As soon as they stepped inside, more confusion befell them. One of their agents ran up to them, worry and confusion in his eyes. "Your Worship," he called out. "We announced your arrival, but you should know that no one here was expecting us," he warned.

Nym blinked in surprise. "No one? Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona," he asked.

The Inquisition agent shrugged. "If she was, she hasn't told anyone."

Frowning, the elf glanced over at his group, but Cassandra and the rest looked just as puzzled.

The agent continued, "We've arranged use of the tavern 'Gull and Lantern' for the negotiations."

Just as the man was finishing his report, an elven mage ran up to them. "Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies! Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly," he explained. The elf smiled at them, "You could speak to the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

The group looked at each other again, as if having a mental conversation between themselves.

"Did he just say…Magister Alexius," Iron Bull mumbled in a low snarl. He wore a disconcerting expression on his face.

"I have a bad feeling about all this," Varric muttered beside him.

Lavellan just shook his head and followed the other elf. He had no idea what was going on anymore, but he was determined to find out.

~…..~

"Hello, agents of the Inquisition."

Former Grand Enchanter Fiona greeted them as if seeing Nymrodel and his group for the first time.

"What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

Cassandra was the first one to step forward. "Is this some kind of joke? You called us here!" As usual, she had no patience for games or trickery, and this reeked of both.

Lavellan put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "Grand Enchanter, you invited us here when we met at Val Royeaux," he explained calmly to the mage. He needed to stay composed.

Yet Fiona's confused expression only deepened. "You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."

"Well then we met your twin, because the person who invited us definitely looked like you," Varric added.

"Something isn't right here," Nym muttered, his gaze hardening in distrust. He could feel something was wrong; his ears were itching. It always happened when his instincts were warning him.

"I…don't know what to say. Now that you mention it…I feel a bit strange," the mage woman frowned. There was a puzzled expression on her face, as if she was genuinely as confused as the rest of them.

"Well it doesn't change the fact that we're here now. We can still continue the negotiations, right," Bull asked. His sharp eye was slowly scouring the room around them, careful to notice any hidden traps or enemies lying in wait.

"If the mages are willing to negotiate at all," Solas added, directing a questioning look at Fiona.

She looked troubled more than anything. "Whoever…whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. I am no longer in charge, so I cannot help you. The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium. I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

Nym gaped, as did the rest of his group. No matter how dire things were for the mages, there had to be a better way. "Pledged into service?" He spat the words in disgust. "So what, you…willingly became their slaves!?" As a Dalish, he was taught to value his freedom and pride as an elf above all. 'Never again shall we submit - a phrase that every Dalish child knew the meaning of, and the history behind it. For someone to willingly give away their freedom was incomprehensible to him.

"Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?" Cassandra was equally bewildered by Fiona's proclamation.

The others didn't respond any better to the news.

"I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter," Solas shook his head as if he was disappointed.

"This right here is why you can't trust mages," the Qunari growled, glaring at the Grand Enchanter.

Even Varric clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Andraste's ass….I'm trying to think of a single worst thing you could have done…and I've got nothing."

"I don't understand. You rebelled because you wanted your freedom from the Circle, yes? Only to give it away to Tevinter magisters," Nym asked, completely baffled.

Fiona gazed down sadly, a glint of guilt in her eyes. She shook her head, biting her lower lip in frustration. "You don't understand…All hope of peace died with Justinia. This bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no choice." Her fists clenched at her side. "We are losing this war! I had to save as many of my people as I could."

Nym scowled, his confusion turning into anger. He opened his mouth to respond when the doors of the tavern suddenly flew open. His hands instantly went for his weapons, just in case. The others of his group did the same, ready for anything.

Two more people came in, both dressed in Tevinter robes. His eyes narrowed, suspicious of the newcomers.

The older man had a smile on his face and his disposition wasn't threatening. "Welcome my friends! I apologize for not meeting with you earlier." He strode in with authority, as if he owned this entire room. A young man with short black hair wordlessly followed on his heels.

Nym relaxed a bit, seeing the man meant them no immediate harm. Yet he noticed Fiona stiffen, in contrast. Even as she introduced him, she glowered at the older man, "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

The man walked over to them, taking his time as he examined Nymrodel and his group. "The Southern mages are under my command," he started. His gaze stopped on the rogue elf and he pierced him with his eyes filled with interest, "And you are the survivor, yes?" He closely sized the elf, ignoring everyone else in the room. "The one from the fade? Interesting…"

Nym had to suppress a shiver. Something about how this man looked at him, and the way he talked - his words laced with some dark interest he couldn't quite put a finger on…it unsettled him. He swallowed hard, but kept a dubious glare on the magister. "I have to admit, I'm quite stumped by this sudden alliance. When exactly did this happen?"

The Magister's expression soften. "When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them," he explained in an overly dramatic, pained voice. Nym didn't buy it for an instant. Smiling at Fiona, the Magister continued, "It could only be by divine providence that I arrived when I did."

Even she looked skeptical of his explanation, "It was certainly…very timely."

"And now you will take these mages under your wing out of the kindness of your heart," Bull asked in a sardonic tone, glaring at the Magister.

Alexius shook his head. "Our Southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium. As they were not born citizens of Tevinter, they must work for a period of ten years before gaining full rights. As their protector, I shall oversee their work for the Imperium. For the moment, they are a considerable expense. However, after they are properly trained, they will join our legion," he explained, a sly smile widening on his lips.

Fiona gasped. "You said not all my people would be military! There are children among us! Those not suited," she argued, but was cut off by him.

"And one day I'm sure they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium…when their debts are paid," he emphasized the last part.

Nym's jaw clenched, his glare darkening. "So you just want to use them as cannon fodder in your war against the Qunari?"

"Great…more mages to bloody Seheron. That's just fucking wonderful," Bull spat out bitterly.

Snarling at the Tevinter Magister, Cassandra stepped forward. "Where is Arl Teagan in all this? He did not abandon Redcliffe when it was under siege during the Blight, he would not do so now," she demanded an answer.

"The Arl of Redcliffe and his men left the village. There were tensions growing and I did not want an incident," Gereon answered, rather vaguely.

*So he has the power to throw out the Arl out of his own lands,* Nymrodel thought with a frown. *Who is this man?* Yet there were more pressing matters to attend to. As much as this Tevinter Magister was suspicious and unwelcome, he was now the Inquisition's only chance to acquire the mages they needed for the Breach. "Fine then, Magister Alexius…Let's get straight to the point. The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach in the sky. Are you willing to help us?" He knew he should behave more diplomatically, but he couldn't erase the scowl from his face.

Alexius laughed, "Right to business! I understand, of course." He nodded and gestured for Lavellan to follow him. They sat at a nearby table, leaving both groups aside so they could talk privately. The Magister turned over to the young man who was yet to speak, "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please." He turned back to the elf, "Pardon my manners. This is my son, Felix." The young man bowed low in the waist and Nymrodel nodded his head in a greeting. Still without uttering a single word, Felix left the room to obey his father's instructions.

"I am not surprised that you are here," the mage continued. "Closing the Breach is no small feat. There is no telling how many mages you would need for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed," the man smirked.

The rogue shrugged, his face remaining blank. "What can I say; one can hardly think small when there's a giant demon-spitting hole in the sky." His blue eyes became a bit sharper as he continued, examining the human carefully, "More importantly, are you willing to help us or not?" He wanted the man to stop dancing around and give a direct answer.

Alexius chuckled, "There would have to be-" He abruptly stopped when he saw his son limping over.

Instantly noticing something was amiss, Nym leapt to the young man's aid as the other started falling. He caught Felix by the shoulders, steadying him on his wobbly feet. "Are you alright!?"

"Felix," his father exclaimed with fright written all over his face. For the first time, his expression looked genuine. All the vagueness and slyness from earlier were gone now.

Nym blinked when he felt the young man slip a piece of paper in his hand. In the next moment, he moved away from the elf, apologizing. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive my clumsiness, my lord."

"Are you alright?" Alexius was already by his son's side, holding his shoulder just in case the other would stumble again.

"I'm alright, father," Felix reassured him, though the other didn't seem convinced.

"Come, Felix. I'll get your powders." He was already on his way before he glanced back at Nym, as if forgetting he was there for a moment. "Please excuse me friends, we will have to continue this another time," he proclaimed.

"I don't mean to trouble anyone," Felix started, but his father wouldn't listen.

Alexius turned back to Nymrodel, "I will send word to the Inquisition, so we can conclude this business at a later date."

Nym watched Alexius and his men move out, with Fiona following close behind with her head fallen. She already looked like some servant of his and they didn't even leave for Tevinter yet.

His group surrounded him, all with their own comments and opinions on the whole matter, and none of them positive. Nym made sure all the Tevinters were out of the tavern before he finally opened the piece of paper in his hand.

"What's that," Varric asked.

"Alexius' son slipped me this in secret," he explained, before reading it out loud, "Come to the Chantry. You are in danger." He looked back at his group in wonder.

Cassandra scowled, "It could be a trap."

"Or someone trying to warn us," he countered. They also suspected the Red Jenny letters were a trap, yet in the end, they gained new allies.

"I would say it doesn't hurt to check it out, but it might," Varric grumbled.

Nym smiled at him, "We'll just have to be careful then. It's the only lead we have."

"And if it's a trap, we'll just kill our way out of it," Bull added matter-of-factly. He wouldn't mind killing a couple of Vints.

The elf chuckled at the big Qunari, "See. That's the spirit."

~…..~

As soon as they entered the Chantry, a bright green light blinded them.

"You gotta be kidding me," Nym exclaimed. "Another rift!?"

In the middle of the Chantry hall, a large fade rift crackled, constantly changing shape and form through fluid motions. Demons were already spawning out of it, and they crowded around a single person in the room; a mage.

A man with tanned skin and the most ridiculous mustache Nym has ever seen, was fighting off the demons with his staff; burning Wraiths and sending blasts of energy at the demons. As the creatures encircled him, he summoned a strong blast of energy all around himself, flinging the monsters away from him. Nym had to admit the mage was doing quite well even on his own.

That is until a great roar echoed throughout the hall. A pool of lava appeared before the mage, rising high above and changing form, until finally a large Rage demon was towering over him. It roared again, growling in anger it represented.

Nymrodel reacted out of instinct, more than anything. He didn't know who this man was, or whether he was friend or foe, but he knew he couldn't take on that Rage demon by himself. But how do you fight something that is entirely made of lava and fire? Luckily, he had one idea.

"Solas, give me some of that ice magic," he grinned, unsheathing his daggers and charging at the enraged demon.

"Certainly," the elven mage called out and summoned his ice to envelop the creature. The creature didn't freeze, since its hot body melted the ice quickly, but the magic slowly started to cool it down. Soon, the demon's body changed into a charred black form, as its fires were momentarily extinguished. Its texture became like lava when it finally cools down, just in time for Nym to appear at the demon's flank, and stab both his dual daggers deep into its fiery body. He repositioned his weapons and ripped through the demon, slicing through with each blade. New hot lava spilled from the demon's wound like blood, and it roared in rage once more.

Feeling a familiar warm light around his body, he realized the mysterious mage has cast a barrier on both of them. He saw the demon attack with both arms, but the mage used his staff like a sword, casting some magic that made the crystal at the end razor sharp, then sliced at the Rage demon with it. He dodged one arm and sliced off the other. The arm fell to the ground and turned into blazing lava, spluttering at both of them. It would have scorched them if not for the magical barrier.

The rogue clicked his tongue in annoyance. Fighting with dual daggers was messy work. If he wasn't careful, he would just splash blazing lava on himself and the mage with every slash. Still, the barrier could offer some protection against it. He glanced to his side at the human mage. *Between him casting barriers and Solas using his ice to cool the lava down, we shouldn't have much problem killing this thing,* he thought. He caught movement with the corner of his eye and jumped back, right in time to dodge another attack from the Rage demon. It spat fire at them this time, burning everything in its path and leaving charred marks on the ground. As they both dodged, it hit a Shade that found itself in the way and burned it to ash, instead.

The mustached mage laughed, "This thing might even help us."

Nym grinned, but there was a nervous glint in his eyes when he saw the Rage demon roar and regenerate its missing arm. Was it just him, or did it also grow bigger? "Let's not get our hopes up too soon," he answered.

"Spoilsport," the mage chuckled.

But the elf noticed another thing. That Shade before seemed as if it was trapped and couldn't move in time. Or rather, it was too slow to move. He had a bad feeling about it; the same feeling he had while fighting in front of the Redcliffe gates. *Don't tell me it's happening again?*

He crouched low and felt heat on his neck as the demon tried to slash at him with its burning, clawed hands. He slipped behind the monster quickly, waiting for Solas to cool it down with his magic again.

At the same time he saw the blazing lava turn cold and hard again, he felt the barrier back on him. *Now,* he waited for the opportune moment. The elf's expression darkened and he repositioned his dual daggers in his hands. *I need to deal as much damage to it as I can,* he concluded, knowing it was a race against time. Solas's spell won't hold for long. With a cry, Nym started moving his body at lightning speed, slicing and piercing at the hardened body. Chips and splutters of lava fell everywhere, even on him, but the barrier kept him safe from burns. He could hear the fiery pieces sizzle against the barrier. He continued, each slash digging further into the Rage demon, until it was riddled with deep cuts. He could see some of the cuts closing with more lava and quickened his pace even more, not giving it time to regenerate. But the demon was getting smaller. Suddenly Nym realized, *It has to use its own body to fill its wounds!* The demon wasn't really regenerating, but transferring its half-liquid form to close its wounds, using up the lava. And the more lava the demon used to replace the missing parts, the smaller it became. Sometimes, it got these bursts of rage that made it grow, probably collecting more energy from the Fade, but it couldn't do it constantly. Soon, it was no larger than a human warrior.

Nym's barrier disappeared and he jumped back to avoid getting burned by the spilling lava. That's when Cassandra rushed in with her shield high up. She sliced horizontally at the demon, her sword passing through with ease, then slammed her shield in what was left of its body. The Rage demon spilled apart, its body splashing all over the ground and finally cooling down into an ashen state.

"Good," the tanned mage exclaimed. "Now help me close this, would you?" He turned his gaze to Nym, evidently already knowing who the elf was and what he was capable of.

"Gladly," the rogue sheathed back one dagger and opened his left palm towards the large rift. There were still some demons around, but he trusted his comrades to protect his flank as he worked on closing the rift. He could feel the familiar pull towards the rift and hear the sound of it brimming with power, as if it was about to overload and explode, which is exactly what happened. Pieces of the fade scattered around them and most of the demons dispersed into green mist. The others were finished off by his friends.

Feeling the familiar weakness that always hit him after closing one of those things, he rubbed his weary eyes. He realized it took him less time to close a rift now and he could weaken it more easily, but it still took a toll on his body every time.

"Fascinating," the mysterious man eyed him. But it wasn't the same sinister, piercing stare that he got from Alexius earlier. "How does that work exactly," he asked, tilting his head.

The rogue was a bit stumped. In all honesty, he wasn't sure either. Solas could probably explain it better than him.

Seeing Nym's hesitant expression, the mage laughed. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! It closes." He wiggled his own fingers for emphasis.

*Well, I wouldn't say it's that easy,* the elf mused. *More importantly….* He looked at the mage human carefully. "And you are…?"

"Ah!" The mage exclaimed as if only now remembering introductions were in order. "Getting ahead of myself again, I see." He gave a small bow as he smiled at the Herald, "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

"Another Tevinter," Cassandra gave him a disgruntled look, putting her shield back in place. "Be cautious with this one," she warned.

Iron Bull didn't look pleased either, "The pretty ones are always the worst."

Nym blinked and gazed up at the Qunari with one eyebrow raised in wonder. He didn't expect that to come out of his mouth.

Dorian chuckled in amusement. He hardly seemed affected by their words, "Suspicious friends you have here."

Nym shrugged, "In their defense, we've had a bit too much trouble with Tevinters recently."

"I don't doubt it," Dorian sighed, a bit more serious now. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable."

"And you are betraying him because…," Varric asked. Even he was skeptical of the man.

"Alexius was my mentor, meaning he isn't any longer," he shook his head. "Listen, you must know there's danger, that should be obvious by now. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the rebel mages right from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right," he narrowed his eyes. "To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

Solas was the first to answer, "That is fascinating, if true…and almost certainly dangerous."

"How is that even possible? I don't understand, are you telling me he…used time magic to get here after the Devine died," Nym asked in bewilderment.

The Tevinter nodded, "Exactly. The rift you closed here...It twisted time around itself; sped some things up and slowed others down," he confirmed Nym's theory from before.

"Just like the one at the gates earlier today," Varric remembered.

"Yes, and soon, there will be even more like it. They'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable and it's unrevealing the world," the mage hissed in anger.

Lavellan gulped. Demons entering the world from the Fade, a giant tear in the sky and now this – some crazy Magister practicing even crazier magic. This was the last thing they needed.

"You're asking us to simply believe you? Do you have any evidence," Cassandra intervened.

Dorian frowned, "I know what I'm talking about. I helped him develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work." He looked like he just ate something sour as he remembered helping his mentor work on such dangerous magic. The man sighed, "What I don't understand is why he is doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"Gaining new soldiers for the Tevinter war efforts against the Qunari," the Iron Bull responded. "Seems pretty plausible to me."

"That is not it," a new voice startled them all and they turned to see none other than Alexius' own son.

Dorian was the only one who didn't seem surprised by the sudden visit. "Took you long enough," he smiled at Felix. "Is he getting suspicious?"

The young man shook his head and smirked, "No. But I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day."

Now that Nym remembered, it was Felix who slipped him the note in the first place. He was expecting him to be at the Chantry, not Dorian. "You're plotting against your own father," the elf dubiously frowned. It wasn't an accusation, but it didn't make much sense either.

Felix scowled. Not at the elf, but the whole complicated situation. "My father has joined a cult, Tevinter Supremacists. They call themselves Venatori. I love my country and I love my father, but this? Time magic and rifts? What he's doing now is madness! And I can tell you one thing," he turned to face Nymrodel, "Whatever he's done, he has done it to get to you."

The elf was taken aback. "Me?! What could they possibly want with me?"

"They're obsessed with you. I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes and got out of the Fade alive," Felix explained with a shrug. He wasn't sure about it either.

"So now I'm wanted by some crazy cultists? My life just keeps getting better and better," the elf deadpanned. He was so tired and fed up with it all.

"Don't worry, Snow. They'll have to go through Bianca and me first, if they want you." Varric stepped beside his friend, rising his trusted crossbow to make a point.

He smiled at the dwarf. At least he wasn't alone in all this; that thought brought him some comfort. He looked back at Felix, "So what now? I suspect asking them to 'please leave me alone' won't work."

The Tevinters chuckled. "No. But not all is as bleak as it seems," Dorian answered. "You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step to turning things to your advantage," he explained. "I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you are ready to deal with him, I want to be there," he narrowed his eyes dangerously. The two obviously had some unfinished business with each other.

Nym thought for a while, mulling over if his idea was really a good one, then decided to throw it out there anyway, "You could join us in Haven. You'd be safe there and we can work on dealing with Alexius together," he shrugged. It seemed like the most logical course.

Dorian hummed in interest. "That is not the worst idea," he muttered. "Indeed, I believe I will join you then."

This time, not only Cassandra, but also Bull, made a disgruntled noise. Neither of them liked the idea.

The other Tevinter spoke, "I should get back to father before he notices I'm gone. He worries too easily." He turned to leave when his friend called out to him.

"Felix? Try not to get yourself killed," Dorian warned.

The young man glanced at him over his shoulder and smiled sadly, "There are worst things than dying, Dorian."

Nym watched Felix leave in silence before his thoughts were broken by a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Cassandra staring back at him. "We should return to Haven and discuss things with Leliana and the others."

He nodded, then realized he was still clutching one of his dual daggers in his hand. Relaxing, he sheathed it into the scabbard on his back.

Dorian glanced up at the large Qunari standing beside him. "It's going to be an interesting trip, no doubt."

~…..~

It was on their way out of Redcliffe that Nym first heard the whispers. He wasn't sure was it because of his elven hearing or because they sounded so familiar, but he instantly latched on to the noises and followed them. The whispers led them to an abandoned storage house, but it was locked.

"Why lock an abandoned house," Dorian asked as the group curiously followed their rogue comrade.

That is exactly what Nym wanted to find out. He knelt in front of the locked doors and took out his lock-picking kit. One more thing he was glad Ronas taught him.

"Nym, I feel the same presence behind these doors as from those peculiar shards we uncovered," Solas whispered to him. The elven mage has been studying them relentlessly ever since they found the first one in the Hinterlands. Yet they still had no idea what their purpose was.

Nym went to work on the lock. He used one pick to keep the mechanism in place and used another to move the lock. Careful not to break his lockpicks, he moved one with a steady hand. Finally he heard a click and the wooden doors opened. Glancing at his group, who waited patiently behind him, he slowly opened the doors.

The whispers that were barely audible before, became so loud and invasive that Nymrodel couldn't hear his own thoughts. He feared he would go crazy as he stepped further inside, quickly putting hands over his ears as he grimaced in pain. It was too much. The noise was overwhelming.

"What's going on," he yelled over the voices, yet he felt like his own voice was overpowered by the whispers. Then he caught on the sight in front of him and stopped dead in his tracks. Momentarily, the whispering voices were forgotten as he stared at the large cupboard before him. Except, instead of books, the wooden shelves were filled with skulls. Human skulls.

His eyes went wide as he stared at the gruesome sight before him. "What….is this," he whispered in shock.

"Nym," Solas called out and the other elf turned to see the mage staring at a large book on a stand. The book had some diagrams he couldn't decipher, and neither could he read the foreign text inside. The only thing he did recognize were the drawings of the mysterious blue shards they found and the Ocularum, a strange device made from a skull that could reveal them.

Dorian pushed forward and read from the book. So it was in Tevene, Nym realized. He could see his tanned face pale in shock, before his expression turned to anger. "The skulls…are from tranquil mages," he started dryly. "It seems the Tevinters…no, the Venatori, are using the skulls to create arcane devices called the Ocularum. With them, they can find these mystic shards. The shards are used as keys. The book says they can open a certain temple in the Forbidden Oasis," Dorian translated the notes left on the margins of the thick book.

Nym grew pale, his voice failing him. He felt sick to his stomach. "They killed the Tranquil…and are using their skulls," he asked, shaken to the core.

"I wondered what happened to the Tranquil after the mage rebellion. So many went missing…Now I understand," Cassandra commented sadly.

"Andraste's tits…," it was all Varric could think to say to such a gruesome end.

"Just one more reason to hate these Vint bastards," Bull commented darkly, in a low tone.

"Venatori," Dorian corrected him, almost snarling. "Not all of us are like that."

"Now is not the time, you two," Cassandra stopped the argument before it could start. She was not in the mood.

Nym squeezed his eyes shut, his head throbbing from the countless whispers in his head. He couldn't think, he couldn't even stand to look at those skulls, staring back at him with hollow eyes. Were those whispers the last words of every Tranquil slaughtered and used by the Venatori mages? He felt his skin crawl at the thought. He couldn't stay here any longer.

He turned around and pushed through the group, desperately trying to get some air as he stepped outside. As soon as he did, the whispers in his head softened until they were barely audible.

"You alright, Snow?" Varric went after him and put a gentle hand on his back.

Now that he was getting his senses back, he could feel his disgust turning into anger. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. "That wasn't war…They didn't die for the rebellion or Templar cause or anything…they were just senselessly slaughtered to be used as tools," he spoke though gritted teeth, trying to keep himself from yelling. "The Tranquil can't even fight back; that's what Minaeve said. And now they can't even rest in peace after death!" He could feel his nails digging into his palms as he balled his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Solas came to him. "But perhaps we can use this knowledge and go see this Temple they speak off," he suggested.

The other elf snapped his head towards him, his eyes filled with shocked repulsion, "You want to use the Ocularum and the shards? Even after knowing what they are," he asked in bewilderment.

The apostate scowled, feeling offended that Nym was staring at him with such disdain. "We cannot bring the Tranquil back…What happened to them was a tragic fate, but it is too late to do anything about it. However, we can stop the Venatori from getting their hands on whatever artifact they believe they will find in that Temple. If we don't, they could be that much stronger for it," he explained, keeping a level head despite what he just saw in that storeroom. Nym sometimes wished he could be as collected as him.

"Your mage friend is right," Dorian interfered. "We must stop these Venatori at all costs," he scrunched his nose in disgust just thinking about them.

Nym gulped painfully. The voices were leaving him now and he was slowly getting his anger back in check. "Alright, I'll talk to Leliana…maybe she could send some agents there to investigate. And scout Harding could lead a team," he started planning already, switching to his more professional self he used during War Council meetings.

"Personally, however, I would like to deal with this Alexius business first," Dorian scowled.

The rogue nodded, "Me too." Straightening up, he took a deep breath. "But from now on, if we see a Tranquil among the mages, we'll warn them of the Venatori or invite them to safety in Haven. The Inquisition should protect those who can't protect themselves," he declared.

"The Venatori couldn't have hunted down all of them. We will protect those who remain," Cassandra promised.

~…..~

"So these Venatori might be behind the Devine's death and even the tear in the sky," Cullen asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He's done nothing but frowning ever since they summoned the War Council and Nymrodel gave his report to the advisors.

It took them four days to get back to Haven on horseback, and by the time they arrived, a letter from Alexius had already reached them by a raven. It invited Lavellan personally to Redcliffe Castle, for the continuation of their negotiations. By now, however, Nymrodel and his advisors already knew it was all a trap.

"Gereon Alexius has all but taken over Redcliffe, even using the castle as his own headquarters," Josephine added, looking no happier than their Commander.

"Then we must take Redcliffe back from them." Cassandra slammed her fist on the War table. "We cannot allow Redcliffe to fall to the hands of a Magister."

Cullen clicked his tongue in frustration. "We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in or give up this nonsense and go find the Templars!" He still hadn't given up on his brethren, but the others weren't so sure about the Templars helping them.

"And leave a foreign power on our doorstep? Alexius has to be dealt with," the spymaster narrowed her eyes.

"Plus, the Templars haven't even been in contact with us. Nobody knows if they are willing to help the Inquisition….especially after what we saw of Lord Seeker Lucius," Nym sighed. He's been listening to his advisors bicker in circles for what seemed like an eternity, yet they were no closer to a solution. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming.

Cullen shook his head, "Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults." He turned to Nym, "If you go in there, you will die in the Magister's trap, and we will lose the only means of closing these rifts. I will not allow it!"

The elf scowled in irate, *Won't allow it?* He felt like he was back at the beginning when he was being treated like a prisoner, his fate decided by others. He didn't want to go back to that time, ever again. He took a deep breath to calm his raging headache - it was getting worse. "I know you are worried and the risks are great, but Leliana and Cassandra are right. We can't just leave Redcliffe in this Tevinter's hands. He already has the mages we need for the Breach and now Redcliffe Castle? Not to mention what they did to the Tranquil there…," he trailed off when he noticed his voice was rising in anger. Cassandra gave him a sympathetic look.

"Even if we could assault the Castle, it would be for naught. An "Orlesian" army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war! Our hands are tied," their ambassador stated.

"But the Magister-," The Seeker started, only to be cut off by Cullen.

"Has outplayed us!"

Nym bit his lip in thought, then shook his head. "No. There has to be another way….We don't need a whole army, we just need another entrance. Something other than the front gates. A sewer or a water line…anything." He was becoming desperate. By now, he wouldn't mind swimming through the Castle's waste, if it would bore a solution.

As if an answer to his prayers, Leliana's voice came, "There is another way in." He turned his hopeful gaze to her as she explained, "A secret passage from the Castle; an old escape route for the family. It is too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

"And if we keep the Magister's attention elsewhere for a time, they can slip right in unnoticed," Nym's face lightened up for the first time since they opened the meeting.

"A distraction! Perhaps the envoy Alexius is expecting," Josephine joined in.

Finally they were working as a team, instead of arguing among themselves.

Nym nodded, "It's risky, but Alexius doesn't have a whole army at his disposal either. All we need is to take them by surprise and break their defenses from the inside."

Sighing, Cullen shook his head, "Don't make it sound so easy."

As if on cue, the doors slammed open, and Dorian strutted in with all the authority of a nobleman, "Fortunately, you'll have help."

Everyone in the War room stared at him in wonder. The man knew how to make an entrance.

"Commander, I couldn't stop him. This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods," the soldier saluted, glancing apologetically at Cullen.

"You are the one who came back with the Herald and his group," Leliana recognized the Tevinter. Since they immediately summoned the War Council on Nym's return, they didn't have time to question their new guest who the Herald brought back from Redcliffe. All Nym said was that the mage had some insight in Alexius' plans and that he wanted to help. She hardly trusted a mage from Tevinter though, so she already sent her agents to investigate this Dorian Pavus from Minrathous.

Dorian walked in like he owned the room and smiled at Nym in a greeting, stopping beside him.

Cullen furrowed his thick eyebrows again. "Why would we trust you, a Tevinter mage?"

"And a former student of Gereon Alexius himself," Leliana added. Her agents have already uncovered a few things and informed her beforehand. Nym was always surprised at how efficiently and quickly her spies worked.

"You have little choice, I'm afraid. Your spies will never get passed Alexius' magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along," Dorian was insistent to deal with the Magister personally. "Since you don't really have a lot of options, I suggest you take the help where it is offered," he added wryly.

"He's got us there," Nym shrugged.

Cullen turned to the young elf, "The plan puts you in the most danger. We cannot in clear conscience order you to do this."

All eyes were on Nym as they awaited his answer. They didn't have to wait for long. They didn't have to order him to do anything. The elf smirked, his eyes gleaming with determination, "You already know my answer. We've come this far, no turning back now. We're going to deal with this Magister, kick his ass out of Redcliffe and get the mages to close that damn tear in the sky," he grinned dangerously. *And then hopefully all this will end and I'll be able to go back home to my Clan,* he comforted himself.

"I like your enthusiasm," Dorian chuckled.

The advisors exchanged glances, then nodded back to Lavellan. "Understood," Cullen saluted.

"Then we better get to work….we have a lot of planning to do," Leliana smirked.

~…~

As soon as he was out of the Chantry, Nymrodel stretched his arms high in the air, feeling a strain in his shoulders. They were finally done with the meeting, but he felt no more relieved because of it. There was still a burden weighing on his back, and he doubted it would go away before they finally conclude this business with the Magister. Or perhaps, his stress won't disappear as long as there is a breach in the sky.

He sighed and gazed up at the vast sky where the cloudy blue was marred with a hue of green light, reflected from the Breach. It was hard to tell the time of day when the sky always looked so distorted from the large gates into the Beyond.

"Well that went better than expected," a voice next to him brought him out of his daze. Nym glanced to his side and saw Dorian. "Now do tell, where one can have a decent bath around here?"

The elf smiled, "Follow me."

As they walked through Haven together, curious eyes of the villagers following their movement. They greeted the Herald happily, some refugees even bowing their heads while soldiers saluted him. But as soon as their gaze turned to the Tevinter mage, their expressions would change into dark scowls, piercing the man with their doubtful eyes.

Dorian sighed, ignoring the glowers aimed at him. "News really travel fast in these small towns. They already know I'm from Tevinter and hate me. I went to the smithy earlier and the blacksmith spat on the ground when he saw me."

Nym smiled sheepishly, a bead of sweat on his brow. He looked a bit guilty as if he was responsible for the people's bad treatment of the mage. "Don't let it bother you. They looked at me the same way when I first got here…some people still do. If you really want to help the Inquisition, I'm sure they will see it too."

Dorian glanced at the elf curiously, "They hated you? But you are the revered Herald of Andraste! The savior sent by the Maker himself," he exclaimed a bit too dramatically, a slight mocking undertone in his voice.

Nym grimaced at the title and had to fight rolling his eyes at Dorian's display. "Now, they think that. When I first came here I was Cassandra's prisoner, charged for killing the Devine. Plus, I'm a Dalish elf…not really Maker-sent in most humans' eyes. You can imagine how much controversy that brought."

The Tevinter scowled, "Yes, trust me, I know all about being thought of as a stereotype. Apparently, we are all evil blood mages who sacrifice children and virgins at alters, to you people."

"Not at all. I hear you sacrifice elven slaves too," the elf responded with a snide smirk, getting some revenge for Dorian's own mocking words about him.

The mage rolled his eyes, "Who would think the Herald of Andraste would use such sarcasm."

"Indeed, who would," Nym muttered, his smirk still present. He certainly didn't care that he didn't fall into the image of Andraste's Prophet, but why would he? He didn't think himself Her herald anyway.

"So you don't believe you're chosen by the Maker?" Dorian asked carefully, eyeing the other man.

Nym snorted. He couldn't contain himself. Then his expression became more troubled as he thought about it seriously. Dorian had no idea how much he wanted an answer to that very question, that has been bothering him all this time. "I don't know…That's hard to swallow, don't you think?" He continued before waiting for an answer, "To begin with, the Dalish believe in our own gods. If I was chosen, wouldn't it be by the Creators? Why would a human god choose a Dalish elf as his representative?"

"Maybe He's trying to make a point? I hear gods do that sometimes," Dorian commented half-serious.

Nym chuckled, before shaking his head. "In the end, does it matter? The Breach is real. I don't know if it was done by gods, or magic, or something else…but faith alone won't close it. I have the mark and with it, the power to close the rifts. I don't know where it came from, but as long as it gives me the power to save this world, does anything else really matter?"

The mage hummed in thought, "That's a very practical way of thinking about it."

He shrugged. "We Dalish are all about the practical," he grinned at the mage. "Instead of sitting and idly contemplating my fate or whether I am the Chosen or not, I would rather just use this mark and fix the sky." He opened his left palm, looking at the glowing green magic on his hand. It was barely visible now, shimmering gently in a faint light. Completely different from when a rift was nearby and it would flare up as if reacting to it.

Dorian smiled as he looked at the elf beside him, "You're quite different from what I pictured. A lot less…holier-than-thou attitude than I was expecting."

"I could say the same thing about you, Tevinter. You haven't sacrificed a single servant in a blood magic ritual on our way here," Nym jokingly responded, giving the man a devilish smirk.

Dorian laughed out loud. "I like you more and more, Lavellan." Still snickering, the man continued, "You know, if you asked any mage in Tevinter whether there is use of blood magic there, they would say "Not at all!" and be convincingly offended by the notion. Of course, what we consider blood magic is different than what the Southerners abhor."

Nym raised an eyebrow, "What does that mean?"

"Using your blood or that of a willing participant; what's the harm, no? The problem is, what is allowed is not enough. It's never enough. Such mages always need more power so they go too far. That is where sacrifices come into play," he wrinkled his nose in disgust, obviously not approving of such acts either.

The young elf narrowed his eyes at him, "So what about you? How far are you willing to go?" The atmosphere around them grew tense, suddenly different than before, when they were only joking around.

Dorian noticed the cold atmosphere, but he smiled nonetheless. "You have nothing to worry from me. I don't practice blood magic of any kind; forbidden or not. Someone once told me it was a resort of the weak mind…and I believe that," his smile turned wistful, but there was a soft glint in his brown eyes. As if reminiscing on a fond memory.

Instantly the tension between them disappeared and Nym's ice-colored eyes became gentler than a second ago. He was back to his previous, laid-back self. Suddenly he stopped and looked up at the building before them, "As much as I like trading quips with you, we're here."

Dorian blinked as if stumped, and stared at the large wooden building before him. A hanging sign read 'The Singing Maiden' at the front gates. "A tavern?"

Nym opened the doors and let the scent of fresh food and gentle music wash over his senses. Since it was still midday, it wasn't as rowdy or crowded as it was during the evening. With nightfall, the Inquisition soldiers would come to have a drink after a long shift while the villagers got together after a hard day's work in the fields. The music would pick up the pace as spirits heightened, with laughter, drunken chatter and jolly mood echoing throughout the tavern. During the day, however, only a few patrons ate their meals in silence or spoke in low voices, giving off a more somber atmosphere to the place.

Dorian's expression soured as he walked inside. The tavern wasn't some old decrepit building, but it was far from what he was used to. In Minrathous, he leisured in large mansions, while attending parties of Tevinter nobles in their gilded homes. In Ferelden, the nicest thing he could say about the ambient was that it was charmingly small and rustic.

"It's not much, but Flissa has free rooms upstairs. I don't know how long you intend to stay in Haven, so it should do for now," the elf explained, walking over to the barkeep woman who gave him her usual cheerful smile, with just a hint of nervousness.

Dorian's gaze traveled around the room, looking at the clutter of tables and chairs. He realized the few humans who gathered in the tavern were all watching him carefully. He pretended not to notice, turning his attention back to Nymrodel, who was arranging his lodging with the owner. "Consequently, I got a deep craving for a strong drink as soon as I entered and saw this place," he muttered to the elf sardonically.

Nym gave him a warning glance, before a waving hand caught his eye at one of the tables. He saw Sera and Varric sitting there, grinning at him. Finishing his business with Flissa and ordering two dark ales, Nym gestured for Dorian to follow him and headed towards his two comrades. "Let me introduce you to someone…You might need that strong drink soon," he teased.

Sera smiled. "So you're all back an' ready to-, aaaand you brought the Robe," her smile fell as soon as she saw Dorian behind him.

"Excuse me, the Robe?" Dorian asked, looking rather insulated as he sat down and suspiciously watched the dark swivel Nym just put in front of him. He was sure he would see it move on its own if he only stared long enough.

"Yeah, cause yaknow, you lot all wear your curtains or somethin'," the elven girl laughed, which turned into a snort and then more laughter.

Dorian sighed, staring at the laughing girl like she just told a joke he heard about a million times already.

"That's Sera, our archer. And you already know Varric," Nym introduced them, taking a sip of his dark ale.

"How's it going, Sparkler," Varric greeted him with a smirk. Nym was impressed by how fast the dwarf thought up a nickname for their newest arrival.

"Charmed," Dorian said bleakly, taking a gulp of his drink and instantly regretting it. Some of it wet his mustache and the man grimaced.

"So you're a Vinty helping us defeat them other Vinties," Sera quirked her eyebrow in question.

"Something like that, yes," the Tevinter mage nodded.

"And you don't mind us killing your fellow citizens," Varric asked.

Dorian sighed. "They are everything that is wrong with Tevinter. Lunatic cultists obsessed with bringing back Tevinter's glory days by using blood magic and disrupting time and reality like it's not a big concern. So by all means, kill them all you want," he narrowed his eyes, annoyed by the very mention of his idiot fellow Tevinters.

Sera laughed, "You're weird."

"And I don't even know what to make of all of you," Dorian admitted.

This time it was the dwarf who laughed, "We are a diverse bunch, I'll give you that."

Nym shrugged with a smile, "But we all have the same goal. Fix the sky and bring peace back to Thedas. So as crazy as it may seem, we all work together when it counts."

"I was only planning to stick around until this whole ghastly business with Alexius is done. I'd rather not…overstay my welcome and get burned at the stake for being an evil 'Magister', or whatever you Southerners do to us down here," Dorian answered, only half-joking.

Varric snickered, "Relax, Sparkler, nobody's going to burn you. Maybe give you a few dirty looks…"

"He's right, Dorian. You are aiding the Inquisition. I'm not going to let anyone mistreat you here just because you are from Tevinter. You have my word," Nym gave him a serious look.

He gave a small smile to the elf, "How very noble of you." There was a glint of interest directed at Nym as he eyed the Dalish elf, wondering what kind of man this young elf truly was.

Sera grinned, turning her attention to Nymrodel and changing the subject, "More importantly, I hear you have an admirer in the servants' quarters. Some elven girl's been talkin' you up. Glad to see you're doin' good with the 'little people' too, yeah?"

Nym blinked, "Servant elven girl?" To be honest, he didn't know the servants that well, except a few of them that he had more contact with during his stay in Haven. He was often out on travels, and when he would finally come back, he spent most of his time at the War table or in his cottage, going through paperwork. The only one he spent more time with… *She must mean Athelle,* he concluded.

"Is there anyone these days who isn't talking highly about the Herald of Andraste," Varric exclaimed in a laugh.

"Popular with the nobles and the servants, huh? Well aren't you just beloved all around," Dorian teased with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Nym sighed in exasperation. "I just try to treat everyone equally, that's all. I didn't do anything special."

"And he's modest too! Stop it or you'll make the rest of us look bad," Dorian chuckled.

"No wonder that elven girl fell for him, huh," his dwarven friend grinned, continuing the teasing.

"An' she was cute too," Sera added, a bit too loud. "I'd sure have a go with 'er!" They were starting to attract attention from the other patrons, curious to hear what all the fuss was about.

Nym felt his long ears heat up in embarrassment.

"Wha! lookit, his ears've gone all red," the girl archer shouted with a grin.

"Stooop," he whined, covering his ears and making the others only laugh harder at his flustered state.

~…~

Two pints later Nym finally managed to escape his comrades and their ruthless teasing. It was already getting dark outside, and the cold pinched at his uncovered skin. As he walked on the snowy path, he could see mist forming on his breath, and shivered. The only thing warming him more than usual was the alcohol in his bloodstream, making him just a little bit tipsy.

He decided to go check on the stables, to see if the horses and his one Hart were warm enough. *It seems tonight will be even colder than usual,* he concluded, blowing hot breath into his hands to warm them. He was certain Horsemaster Dennet would take good care of their chargers, but it was never bad to make sure, just in case.

He jogged down the path and entered the stables. It was warmer there, making Nym relax a little. The strong scent of horses whiffed at him as soon as he entered, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. He walked over to the Hart and smiled.

Putting one hand on the Hart's snout, he petted the gentle animal. "How are you feeling, Shara?" Shara was a male Red Hart, with silken mane of reddish-brown color and a wide white line on its snout, traveling all the way to its belly. The animal was gentle, but lively, its loud neigh often echoing throughout Haven's camp. Nym named the young male Shara, which was short for 'Sharahnain,' due to its cheerful nature.

The Hart happily rubbed its snout against the elf's hand, making a few low grunts in response. Nym could feel the warmth against his hand and smiled. He took a woolen cover that was laid on a beam and draped it over Shara's back to give him additional warmth for the night. The elf smiled and whispered to the sleepy animal, "You'll be alright, falon. This cold is nothing for you, with such thick mane. I'm jealous," he snickered.

He was interrupted by the sound of blows coming from the training grounds. "Don't tell me Cassandra or Cullen are still out there, practicing," he murmured out loud. Curious, he peeked out of the stables and watched through the darkness to see who was still training at this hour. His eyes blinked in surprise when he saw a giant frame swinging a large weapon against the training dummies. Such a form could only belong to one person; the only Qunari of the Inquisition, the Iron Bull.

"On nydha," Nym said a quick goodbye to Shara, petting him gently one last time, and stepped out in the cold, shivering at the sudden loss of heat. Instead of his home, he headed down to the training area, watching the Qunari wield his giant axe like it was made form paper. The man was surprisingly agile for his big frame, especially considering he wore a brace on his left ankle. He swung downwards, bringing the axe onto the dummy's head, then sidestepped as if dodging a flank attack and swung the axe from below, ending another imaginary enemy with a diagonal strike. The dummies made wrecking sounds every time they were hit, shaking wildly, but didn't break. He obviously wasn't using the same amount of strength he used when cleaving through heavy armor of his opponents, or there would be nothing left of Haven's training equipment. As if Cassandra and Cullen weren't making sure of that already.

The sight reminded Nym of the time in front of Redcliffe's gates, when he saw the giant Qunari shatter the frozen Greater Terror, as if he was cutting through glass. He remembered the sharp, focused stare in his eye – there was something wild and untamed in that bloodlust-filled gaze. It was completely different from how Nym fought. The elf's every move was calculated and controlled, so he could switch between offense and defense in an instant, if need be. On the other hand, Bull fought as if his sole purpose was to destroy every enemy in his path, but there was also a cleverness to it. He didn't just jump into the fray like a mindless killing machine, even if that was how it looked like to an untrained eye. But anyone who had combat experience could see there was tactic in Bull's movement. Even now while he exercised, Nym could see the man was swinging his weapon with skill and purpose, instead of just mindlessly slashing the air in hopes of hitting something.

Bull stopped, panting from the hard exercise. Even in this wintry weather, the man wasn't wearing a shirt, but only his usual harness. Nym still wasn't sure what that thing was supposed to bind; for holding the axe strapped to the back, was his best guess. He let the weapon fall to his side, taking a deep breath to even out his rushed breathing. Sweat glistened on his grey skin and his muscles flexed as he stretched out his hands a few times to let the strain out of them.

Then he smirked, noticing the other's presence even though he was standing at his blind side. "Enjoying the show, Boss," he called out, questioning him teasingly.

Nym jumped, caught off guard as he was still deep in his thoughts about Bull's reaver skills. Realizing he was caught staring, he quickly opened his mouth to explain…when Bull's words finally sunk in. He flushed, and this time it wasn't from the alcohol. Not only his ears, but even his cheeks were red now. "W-what?!" He all but squeaked, quickly waving his hands in front of him as if to dismiss Bull's claims. "N-no, I was just looking. I mean, I wasn't looking at you. I just thought your fighting style was interesting so I-," the poor elf rambled on, unable to stop himself.

Bull bellowed in laughter at the fretting elf, "Relax. I'm just messing with ya, Boss."

Nym's ear twitched in embarrassment. At least he forgot all about the cold for a moment. Of course, as soon as he remembered, he shuddered and put his slender arms around his body to warm up. "Why are you training at this hour, when it's freezing outside? And shirtless, nonetheless," he tilted his head in question.

The Qunari chuckled, "Just letting out some steam. I didn't hit anything but practice dummies since we fought those demons. Well, except Krem, during drills," he added with a grin.

Now it was Nym's turn to chuckle, "You'll get your chance soon enough, since we're going after Magister Alexius. And fighting Vints, no less; your specialty," he smirked.

Shaking his head, the Qunari strolled over to a short stone wall where he laid out some of his things. He leaned his axe on the wall, then took a washcloth and wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Why am I not surprised that whenever some shit is going down, Vints end up being involved."

Nym sat on the wall, looking up at the giant man. "I'm surprised you get along so well with Krem considering your 'high' opinion on Tevinters."

"Why's that?"

Nym raised an eyebrow curiously, "Because he's a Vint?" Didn't Bull see the contrast in that?

On his surprise, Bull just laughed. "Nah. He's not a Vint, he's just Krem. I can get worked up about a group or a nation just fine, but people…It's too much work to hate them one by one. Krem is a good soldier and a better second-in-command. The troops need someone to complain to when I'm being a hard-ass. He's good for that. Speaking of which, the Inquisition troops have good form. Cullen trained them good. But I noticed you have a problem in the hierarchy; you've got no leader. No Inquisitor."

He hummed in thought. "We all work together; Leliana as the spymaster, Cullen commands the troops, Josephine takes care of diplomacy and I seal the fade rifts. Plus, Cassandra is here to bring order with an iron fist when need-be. The Inquisition has worked just fine with everyone's combined efforts so far," he explained.

"That might work for now, while all you need is damage control. Reaction – a group can handle that. But once you seal the Breach, it's going to be time to make decisions. Someone's gonna have to step up," the Qunari retorted.

Nymrodel felt uneasiness wash over him. "After we seal the Breach? The rebel mages and Templars have stopped fighting, haven't they? And I'm only here because I can seal rifts, in the first place. Once the sky is mended, my work here is done. I'm going back to my Clan," he shrugged, scowling. Once demons stop pouring out of the sky, it stops being his problem; at least that was the conviction he held so far.

The larger man snorted, "You really think it's gonna be that easy? Just seal the Breach and go home?" Bull didn't look convinced. He shook his head in amusement, and suddenly Nym felt naïve for ever thinking that. But then the Qunari shrugged, "Bah, who knows! Maybe you seal the Breach, the Chantry gets off their ass, and all the Inquisition's soldiers go home and get fat. And you get to go home too."

Lavellan pursed his lips, "You think?"

"It could happen. It won't, but it could," the other man shrugged again.

Feeling frustrated, he clicked his tongue, and drew his knees to his chest to try and keep his body warmth, while he pondered on Bull's words. He looked at his left palm, gazing at his faintly glowing mark. "I can only seal rifts, that's all. After the Breach is closed, I will fulfill any duty I have towards the Inquisition and be free to return to my Clan…that's what I thought so far, at least. This is a human organization to begin with, I have no reason to stay after the Breach is closed," he frowned, then glanced at Bull, "What about you? Once the Breach is closed, are you planning to stick with the Inquisition?"

Now it was the Qunari's turn to hum in thought, "Who knows. Maybe if the pay's good and they'll have a need for a mercenary company. But remember, the main reason I joined was because the Ben-Hassrath ordered me to investigate this weird-ass fade magic and help close the Breach, if possible. Once that's done, I guess my work here will be finished too…if I don't get new orders."

That's when Nym remembered. "Right, the whole Ben-Hassrath spy thing. To be honest, with you leading the Chargers like a real mercenary captain, it's really easy to forget you are actually working for the Qunari."

Bull chuckled, "That's the point."

"How does one become…Ben-Hassrath exactly?" Nym was getting so engrossed in the conversation, he even forgot about the cold weather. "You explained to me before about Qunari and your society, but you never told me how you ended up a Ben-Hassrath spy in Orlais?"

"You have a lot of questions. You writin' a book," the man asked suspiciously. His Ben-Hassrath side was rearing its head.

"What can I say, I'm inquisitive by nature," he joked while shrugging. "But in all seriousness, I think it's important to know your comrades - the people who have your back on the battlefield. You said it yourself before; 'I want to know what my guys are drinking and who they're sleeping with'," Nym explained, repeating Bull's words. "Although, I don't really need that much detail," he gave a sheepish smile. "I just think you need to get to know someone before you can trust them. Especially if they fight every day beside you. Besides, I never met a Qunari before you," he admitted, and felt a bit silly now that he said that out loud. He felt inexperienced; like he had been completely closed-off from the world until leaving his Clan, which was pretty much the case.

"Alright, I see your point," the man admitted. "It's pretty simple really. I was good at knocking things down since I was a kid. They had me pegged for military work early on. When my Tamassran learned I could hit stuff and lie, they started training me for the Ben-Hassrath. At first, they sent me to Seheron because they needed someone who could hunt down problems." Bull frowned, a deep crease appearing on his forehead. He was remembering something unpleasant, no doubt. "That whole island was a sack of cats. Incursions from Tevinter, Tal-Vashoth, and native rebels – Fog Warriors - fighting both sides. And in the middle, me, trying to wrangle the rebels and restore order."

"Sounds like a picnic," Nym commented sarcastically, but there was a scowl on his face. He could imagine the chaos just from Bull's words.

"Heh, you could say that. It went as well as you'd imagine. I hunted down a lot of rebels, lost a lot of friends to the Vints, or the Fog Warriors, or the Tal-Vashoth. One day I woke up and couldn't think of a damned good reason to continue doing my job. I thought about letting some enemy kill me, but I didn't want to give those bastards the satisfaction. So I turned myself over to the Reeducators."

Nym's eyes widened. Bull talked about the Reeducators before; how they changed people's minds through what was practically torture. He couldn't believe that someone would go to them willingly. He wondered how broken Bull must've felt to do that, and couldn't even imagine the loud, strong warrior he knew, in such a state. "That must've taken a lot of courage…to go to them even though you know what they do," he whispered.

"What they do is they fix you. I wanted them to fix me."

It sounded so strange to the Dalish elf. Like the Qunari were some kind of tools that needed to be repaired when they lost efficiency.

Bull continued, "The Ben-Hassrath ordered me to go to Orlais, ostensibly as a Tal-Vashoth, and work undercover. That's how I ended up here."

"And are you…happy here," the elf asked cautiously. He felt like they were entering a rather private sphere for Bull and didn't want to overstep any line.

"Are you kidding," Bull asked through a laugh. "I get to fight, drink and eat orlesian food, which I particularly like, and every now and then write to the Ben-Hassrath about it. Plus, you guys here have redheads…mmmm, redheads," the man smiled, his eye gleaming with some fond image in his mind.

Shaking his head, Nym chuckled. "Sounds like you have it better here than back home under the Qun."

The man snorted, "What, three meals a day and free sex whenever I need it?" He laughed. "I came out here for the challenge, Boss. Figured I'd rough it with you savages," he teased.

Lavellan laughed and rolled his eyes, "Us, savages? You must be talking about the shems," he grinned.

"Oh, right. Dalish and Skinner use that word for the humans sometimes, too."

"Yeah, it means-," he started, then stopped, his mind rewinding a little. "Wait, did you say something about free sex?!"

The Qunari burst in laughter again, watching the elf's shocked expression. "Right, well you know…the Qunari build up a lot of stress during their jobs. There is a beastly part of us, but the Qun keeps it under control. Without it, Qunari turn savage…like the Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Sex is just another good way to release all that pent up energy. Like…seeing a healer," he explained the best he could. "It's not a big deal like it is here." Eyeing Lavellan, he could see the elf was thinking about his words. He gave him a sudden slap on the back, while smirking. "You could use that too, Boss. Considering how much stress you work up being the Herald all day," he said with a knowing look.

Nym almost chocked at the sudden hit on his back. The tips of his ears reddened again as he blushed, "T-that's alright, I'm fine! Besides, I'd rather…d-do it with someone I c-care about," he stammered, barely getting the sentence out, burning with embarrassment all the while. He wasn't usually bashful, but he never really discussed his sex life, or lack thereof, so openly with anyone before.

Bull chuckled and gave Nym another slap, on his shoulders this time. It was far too amusing riling this guy up and watching him squirm. Bull and the Chargers often did the same to each other, teasing or messing with one another, or just giving each other a hard time. But it was all in good fun and it actually brought them all closer together. Ultimately, it was good for morale. So Bull didn't mean anything bad by it, as he did the same to Nym. Lavellan didn't appear to be truly angry about the teasing, either.

The elf just gave an exasperated sigh and looked up. It was proper night now, darkness and silence all around them. The sky here in the Frostback Mountains was so clear, it was riddled with numerous shining stars, too many to count. But even now, there was a green hue in the sky, coming from the Breach. A constant reminder of the danger looming over their heads, quite literally.

He hummed in thought, "The way you always talk about the Qun, it all sounds so different than here…it's hard to imagine. It's difficult to picture living with no personal freedoms and with your life so predetermined by others, but… you said everyone is equal under the Qun. Nobody is less worthy just because they are different. There are no shems and knife-ears…I can respect that," he mused. "Maybe our society can learn something from the Qunari too."

The Iron Bull grunted, raising an amused eyebrow. Usually, the Southerners hated Qunari and the Qun on principle. It was rare that someone took the time to think of its positives. He appreciated that. "You thinking of converting?" He gave him a teasing smirk as he asked.

Nym laughed, "No way. I don't think I'd do well under the Qun to be honest. Besides…a Dalish elf, the Herald of Andraste and a Viddathari? That's a bit too much of a special snowflake, don't you think," he gave him a sheepish smile.

Bull laughed too, "You got a point there." A loud sneeze interrupted their conversation and he saw the little elf sniff. "Yeah, we really need to get you inside before you freeze to death out here, Boss." He placed his large hand on Nym's narrow back and rubbed it gently, trying to keep him warm.

Nym stiffened under the touch for a moment, his heart painfully skipping a beat. It was only for a second before he relaxed into it, but even when Bull pulled back, he could still feel heat radiating from the place where he was touched. Nym wasn't sure what made him jump like that, but he simply wrote it off as surprise. Bull's touch didn't feel uncomfortable, though.

"Right," he agreed and sneezed again, as if making Iron Bull's point. He was shivering now, with his hands trembling, yet he was so focused on the conversation, he didn't even notice before. He hopped from the small wall, stretching and instantly regretting it as it only made him feel colder. *I'll have to draw myself a hot bath before I catch a cold,* he thought, already looking forward to it. He glanced back at the Qunari who was picking up his possessions. "You get some rest too. We're traveling for Redcliffe again tomorrow."

As he turned to leave, the Qunari called out from behind him, "It was nice talking to you, Boss." Nym gave him a wide smile, then jogged back to his home, already imagining that hot bath.

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Glossary:

Sharahnain - happy little thing. From the words: sha (happy) + rahn (thing) + ain (diminutive suffix meaning a child version, or childlike, or a cute something)

Falon - friend

On nydha – Good night

Din'dhru – No way (as in; exclamation of disbelief)

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I always have a problem writing Sera's way of speech. "A bit wonky, but still understandable," would be my explanation. I also worry about keeping the OCs in character…hopefully I'm succeeding? :') I'm trying to write a realistic progress of Bull's and Nym's relationship as they slowly become closer. From comrades in arms, to friends to something more. ;) That's why I'm keeping it slow.

Thank you all for reading!