Grace Trevelyan rubbed her temples as she leaned back in the chair of her cabin.
Herald of Andraste they were calling her now, the Chantry was calling her a heretic and her father was calling her home.
She could not go home though and, deep in his heart, Erik Trevelyan knew that.
Even if Grace hadn't pledged to help Cassandra and the fledging Inquisition restore peace and seal the Breach, Grace wouldn't have been able to leave, not when she held the only thing possible of sealing the Rifts.
Cassandra may have been nice enough to ask for her help, but Grace knew she really didn't have a choice when it came to her staying or not.
She would be a part of this Inquisition until all things were said and done and there was nothing anyone could do about it—something that no doubt irked her father.
It didn't help matters that Grace was apparently now one of the leaders of the Inquisition—only by the virtue of the glowing magic on her hand—and its figurehead at that.
That just opened her up to assassins, she thought grimly, though she wasn't sure if the Chantry would openly employ an assassin to take out the heretic.
Then again, Grace knew the reputation of Lelianna. Sister Nightingale was impossible to mistake with those who knew her and Grace knew of her. The Bard of the Chantry, the Divine's shadow master.
Assassins would probably come from the Chantry though Grace was certain that she'd probably never know how close they came with Lelianna's spies about, ready and waiting to take down threats to their Herald.
Grace bit back a sigh and returned to reading the reports written on both the mages and Templars—reports meant to help her decide which to ally with—and Grace wasn't sure how it came down to her choice of who they were going to ally with.
Grace Trevelyan had made interesting friends since becoming the famed Herald of Andraste, Varric thought as he sipped his nightly ale.
An elven apostate that was going to be sticking around and spent far too much time in the Fade to make Varric feel all that comfortable. Varric didn't know what to think about Solas, the fact he showed up and was able to save Grace's life like he did, well that didn't sit well with Varric.
It was great that he was able to save Grace's life, Varric liked the noble woman and was glad that he got to call her friend, but Solas' timing, his knowledge, well, Varric was a writer and if he wrote this story he'd make Solas somehow apart of what happened at the Conclave.
Sure, this was real life and not one of his stories, but Varric found real life often followed the same lines as a story did. So yeah, he wouldn't be trusting Solas all that much.
Then there was Sera, an elf so unelf-like that Varric would have thought she was ashamed of being an elf if she didn't so brazenly show off her ears with her choppy haircut—something he thought she had done herself.
Sera was also startlingly young; she had been a child during the Blight after all. And it showed in the way she spoke, the way she saw the world and the group she had joined before the Inquisition—thing that made her clash with the older and often more serious companions that Grace had picked up.
Though it seemed both their new Warden friend and Qunari friends seemed to like her. The Adaar siblings often pulled the elf over when they were relaxing in the evenings—Sera's fear of magic never seemed to extend to Asalsa—and dealt her into whatever game they were playing.
The Iron Bull seemed to like her and Varric had already overheard numerous somewhat strange attacks he thought they could do together.
And the Warden Blackwall treated Sera like a little sister or even a daughter, something that had surprised Varric when he first saw them together as he had assumed that Blackwall was rather serious—which he was, but he also had a sense of humour that he could share with her.
The Iron Bull was different than what Varric had expected from the large Qunari, especially considering he was still part of the Qun. He drank, he swore, he joked and slept around, and actually deeply cared about his Chargers. It also wasn't an arse to the Adaar siblings—who Varric quickly befriended and somehow wasn't surprised to found out that they knew the Companions—as they weren't born within the Qun and thus not Tal-Vosth which he didn't like and had spent years killing.
Varric actually liked the guy, something he wasn't expecting after Kirkwall and dealing with crazy Qun-following Qunari—he still had nightmares of the Qunari mage silently setting himself on fire because it was against the Qun for him to be free, that had deeply shocked him because the only Qunari mage he knew before him had been Saya and she seemed to enjoy her freedom from the Qun and her people.
Warden Blackwall was different from the Wardens that Varric had met in the past—and no, he didn't really count Faren as a Warden as in his mind Faren was a Companion—and seemed to have strong morals and an honour code—which made him smell a story as there was always a reason behind such things.
Then there was Vivienne, Madame de Fer. The Lady of Iron scared Varric in a different way to both Aveline and Kiara.
Aveline was a highly dedicated woman, dedicated to her the law and her job, dedicated to Kirkwall, dedicated to her husband and friends—it never ceased to amaze Varric that she actually worked with Smugglers for a time before she joined the Guard. She was loyal and honourable, and worked far too much.
Kiara was dangerous, she was the type of woman who could kill you with little thought or effort if you became a threat to her or those she held dear. She walked around with enough blades to arm a small army, knew too many secrets and things for one woman and Varric was pretty sure she could see the future.
Vivienne though, Vivienne was ambitious and ambitious people were always the most dangerous in Varric's opinion. It was ambition that made Vivienne ally with the Inquisition, to restore peace and the Circles so she could finally become Grand Enchanter, it was ambition to have a hand in history that lend her to the Inquisitions side.
It was a good thing that Vivienne seemed to like Grace and that Grace was making sure to become friends with Vivienne as Vivienne could easily turn into a powerful enemy. It was best to have her on their side.
Banal'ras hissed as he gingerly attempted to walk with the aid of his healer, Asalsa.
The Qunari was his 'main' healer and came to talk with him often, making them tentative friends.
The rumble had jarred his spine, left bruises and cuts, and crushed his left leg which was the injury that ended his career as a Hunter—even with the brace that the Blacksmith had knocked up for him.
He made too much noise now, every prey and shem would hear him coming. He'd have to take up a craft or something to be of use to the Clan, Banal'ras knew, but he'd think about that when he returned to the Clan—which wouldn't be for a while.
Banal'ras had decided to stay with the Inquisition for the time-being and the Spymaster, Lelianna—friend of both Elion and Ellana and a member of their new Clan, according to the rumours—had already decided he'd be her assistant.
The red-head elf by her side—Vala Tabris, she introduced with a smile, a member of Elion and Ellana's new mixed up Clan—had simply smiled as her lover informed the bedridden elf of his new duties mere moments after he told Asalsa that he had decided to stay with the Inquisition.
Frankly, Banal'ras didn't know if she simply assumed he was staying or actually somehow knew he was staying when Lelianna told him of all she expected from him as her assistant.
"You're doing well," Asalsa told him, breaking him from his thoughts, as she kept pace with each limping step he made.
"He looks like a baby animal learning to walk again," her brother bluntly stated from where he was walking behind them.
Ataash really wasn't Banal'ras' favourite though he was around almost as much as Asalsa considering he was his younger sister's unofficial bodyguard while their older sister was off dealing with the leaders of the Inquisition.
"Ataash," she hissed back at him, a scowl on her face and Banal'ras didn't have to look back to know he would just shrug and smirk at his sister, not even the least bit sorry for his blunt words.
Banal'ras just ignored him as he got used to walking again.
Kiara had known fear before, had known true terror as she stared down at the Archdemon and wanted to run far away for the first time in decades.
Fear was an old friend to her, it was fear that cooled her heated blood in each fight she had fought and kept her alive that much longer.
It was fear that made her bring her family close and keep out of things, to leave it to the heroes and such to do their duty without her watching over them.
It would be terror that drew her out of hiding and to the heroes as she pledged her loyalty to them.
It would be rage, a rage that had never been fully doused, the rage even Morrigan and Kieran's love could not calm, that would keep her there.
The rage that Hydra invoked, that Logan honed, that she had sharpened. It was the rage that ran through her viens like fire, it was the rage that made Ellana glad that Kiara wasn't a mage, it was the rage that made demons run from her.
It was the rage that made her capable of massacres, of slaughtering her enemies without a thought. It was the rage that made her so dangerous, made so many wary of her.
It was for Edmund that Grace finally settled on to the Mages, she was confident that the Inquisition and herself could deal with Alexius' trap for her. So she went to the meeting with Varric and Vivienne, Lelianna and her men as well as Dorian entered secretly.
She was confident up until the moment she and Dorian was hit by a strange teleporting magic, until she saw the red lyrium bursting out of Grand Enchanter Fiona's skin as she told the tale of the end of the world, until she saw Vivienne's glowing red eyes and the glimmer of red shining through Varric's skin, until she saw Lelianna pale, drawn and corrupted skin.
It was then that Grace knew she had chosen wrong, it was then that Grace knew she couldn't offer the mages a full alliance like she had first planned.
Not now, not now she knew how close they came to the end of the world because of their actions, because of Fiona's foolish alliance with Alexius and Tevinter.
She hoped that Edmund would forgive her for her decision, for once again shackling the mages.
"Andraste's ass!" Varric exclaimed, sounding angry for the first time that she had known him and breaking her away from the argument between Lelianna and Dorian. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know, enjoying Alexius' hospitality," a dry female voice remarked and Grace spun towards the door.
A tall woman stood there, thin and wane, red lyrium visible through her pale skin and dark spots of corruption. She stood in prisoner's garbs, wielding two blades—stolen most likely, like Varric's, Vivienne's and later Lelianna's weapons were.
"Kiara," Lelianna breathed and Kiara's glowing eyes glanced at the Spy-master for but a moment before settling on Grace with a look that sent a chill down her spine.
"So I'm guessing you're the Herald of Andraste?" she asked. "Let's hope you don't fuck the world up with another chance, shall we?"
And that was how Grace Trevelyan, Lady Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste and soon to be Inquisitor, meet Kiara Cadash, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, Knight of Ferelden, Wife of the Empress' Court Occult Advisor and Leader of Companions.
