Come Get To Know Me

"No! That is absolutely ridiculous!" Leliana denied angrily. "The whole notion is foolish! How can you even make that suggestion?"

"The Ash Warriors are the most renowned group of fighters in all of Ferelden!" Cullen argued. "We need seasoned warriors, not green pilgrims and farm hands leading our forces into battle."

"Plus the Ash Warriors are considered heroes by the people of Ferelden." Josephine added with her quill and clipboard in hand. "Mercenaries who only fight for just causes? It would give us a great deal of credibility with the Fereldan people."

"Relying on their past history and ignoring their current history could do more damage than good." Leliana shot back.

"I know you and their current commander have a history, Leliana. But surely you must see that the advantages to having them with us outweighs the possible risks?" Josephine reasoned with that innocent smile urging her.

"A history?" Leliana scoffed. "Josie, I saw the things that vile woman did for Loghain during the Blight. The things she helped Teyrn Mac Tir do to his own people! She knew Loghain was selling people to slavery and torturing them! Warden-Commander Aedan wanted to banish them and force them to live their lives in shame until they died from humiliation. Now you want the likes of Ser Cauthrien to join us?"

"Leliana, you know that Ash Warriors have no past." Cullen reminded. "By Fereldan law and custom, Cauthrien and her men are officially dead and their crimes expunged. And finding a worthy death is their only goal. And you said before that we cannot let grudges or mistakes from the past cloud our judgment now."

Leliana grunted in frustration and crossed her arms. What would Aedan think of this? To be counted amongst the same ranks as traitors would have made him punch something until it died, and right now she wanted to do it. Knowing Aedan, when he was forced to do something he didn't want to, he made it incredibly clear how he felt and what the other guy should be wary of. Now was the time to follow his example instead of being charming. "Very well, Josie. Send Cauthrien an invitation, if you must. But make sure that she knows, in no uncertain terms, that I will be watching. And if I so much as sniff an act of sedition or betrayal from her or her men, she'll never know she's dead until she's already greeted the Maker."

There was a frightened look of shock plastered on the other two advisors' faces. Where did Leliana learn to be so scary? "I…I will make sure Ser Cauthrien and her men receive your message, Leliana." Josephine finally confirmed after shaking herself out of shock.

Leliana strutted out of the War Room. Maker, this made her mad, but she would not show it. As the spymaster for the Inquisition she must maintain the mask of being cold and aloof. But on the inside she could feel herself burning with anger over this; she hated being so desperate that she had to call on the likes of Ser Cauthrien to aid them. The Maker teaches forgiveness and charity to those who have wronged, but that doesn't change how she felt.

Leliana dreaded to think what Aedan would do if he was here. He'd probably maim half the people in Haven just for assuming he was an Andrastian. Rajmael may have worshipped different gods, but at least he wasn't very violent with them. She wished the Chantry had such a behavior.

~XoXoXo~

After so much time spent gathering information and people, Rajmael felt it was time for them to return back to base to resupply and determine their next move. And it would behoove Rajmael to know a couple of the new people he's picked up.

Starting with The Iron Bull. The ben-hessrath agent was standing outside the gates of Haven observing them men training. Rajmael took note of how intently Bull's single eye observed the soldiers.

"You've got some good men. Cullen trains them well." Bull pointed out.

"Yes, he does. Hopefully they'll be ready to fight a real threat when the time comes for it."

"Oh, they'll be ready." Bull promised. "Nothing puts a fire in a man's belly than a cause worth fighting for. Just like in the Antaam or the Ben-Hassrath, we're taught to believe in the qun and that everything we do if for it. Of course, it helps when the end of the world is on your doorstep."

"Yeah, then everyone gets drawn into this crap whether they like it or not." Rajmael remembered as rubbed the spot where Cassandra slugged him.

"Yeah, I heard about how you were dragged in." Bull laughed. "I can't even imagine walking out of that, going up to that monstrosity, and then getting knocked around by something that terrible and living! You've gotta have a pair made of solid brass."

"I don't remember how I survived the Breach." Rajmael explained.

"I know. I was talking about Cassandra." Both of them busted out laughing, and were extremely glad the Seeker wasn't around to hear that. "But seriously, though, I heard you singlehandedly fought a Pride Demon in single combat and cut it down to size. I got to know if they were telling the truth about that."

"Yes." Rajmael smiled. "My people call such creatures Solas'heral, nightmare of pride. And I cut its arm off, then finished it off with this sword." Rajmael unsheathed his sword and offered it to Iron Bull.

Iron Bull carefully grasped the in his hand and was shocked at how light it was. It was not a greatsword like he was led to believe, but even for its size it weighed almost nothing. As he looked closer at the blade, he realized that it was made of…wood? What the shit kind of weapons do those Dalish elves use?

"Weird. I heard you were a mage. But you carry a sword?" The Bull asked as he handed the sword back to its owner. "And your magic is different, too. You carry yourself more like a warrior than a mage."

"That's because I am both." Rajmael answered proudly. "The Arcane Warriors are the personification of will made reality. My magic and my will are one."

"Yeah, that's…that's not something I'm used to." Bull answered skeptically. "I mean, I believe what you're saying, but growing up under the Qun we're taught that mages are incapable of controlling themselves."

"Yes." Rajmael said grimly. "I've heard what your people do to your mages. How you…bind and cage them like animals, and sew their lips shut. What's that word your people have for them? Serabaas? Unwanted thing, right." He could feel that thing buried inside him start stir angrily with each word.

"Hey, take it easy." Bull insisted. He could feel the anger rising in the Herald. "I don't think you've got enough experience with Qunari to actually judge how we live."

"No? Maybe not. But I do have experience with being abused simply because I was born with magic. To be hated, spat on and tortured. I do think I know what I'm talking about, Iron Bull." Rajmael seethed as he remembered every painful detail.

"Mages don't got it easy anywhere, boss. That's a fact."

"It's a fact because institutions like the Qun and the Chantry teach people, mages or not, that magic is dangerous. That it should be feared and shoved into a corner and forgotten. And you enforce that?"

"Hey! I'm not an Arvaarad!" Iron Bull snapped. "And I feel sorry for every bastard that is because they've obviously got something wrong with them to be assigned such a duty. That wasn't me."

"Then what were you?"

"I was charged with seeking out threats to the people, not the philosophy but the people living under our philosophy. Tevinter agents, Fog Warriors…Tal-Vashoth." He said that last word with particular hate. "I hunted those kinds of people down because they were a threat. Not mages."

"Then what did you do as a ben-hassrath?" Rajmael asked as he tried to calm down, tried to bury that thing inside him. "What was life like for you as a spy?"

"Eh, constant fighting. Day in day out, nothing but a lot of blood. From both sides. I hated getting to know the men under my command because I knew that I'd lose some of them every week." Bull explained wearily. "Sometimes I'd be out on patrol looking for these farmers who went missing a few nights ago, hoping that maybe a jungle cat got to them."

"You hoped a wild animal caught them?"

"What the Tal-Vashoth do their prisoner ain't pretty. And they do it just for kicks."

"From the way I saw you kill those Tevinter mercenaries I thought you enjoyed a good fight."

"Yeah, well, there's having a good fight, killing some other asshole because he wants to kill you. And then there's tracking down which rebel group or Tevinter spy cell threw bombs into a children's dormitory. I lost a lot of good men, even friends, to the Vints, Fog Warriors and Tal-Vashoth. One morning I just woke up and couldn't find I damn good reason to do my job. So turned myself over to the re-educators."

"Why would you do that?" Rajmael asked disbelievingly. "Weren't you scared of what they would do?"

"I was scared shitless." Bull admitted. "But I knew it was my duty to let the Tamassrans fix me if they could. They knew I was burnt out and tired, so they sent me to Orlais under the guise of a mercenary to watch Orlais' activities."

"Why Orlais, just out of curiosity." Rajmael inquired.

"Well, supposedly, they're the most powerful country in the South and the leaders of the Qun want to know what's going on with them." Bull answered. "The new Arishok said to just leave Fereldan alone. That they were a country worth respecting. Personally, I think it's because he knows what the Hero of Ferelden capable of."

"There's just one last thing I'm curious about, Bull. Why tell me you're a spy? Why tell me anything at all? What could an agent of the Qun hope to gain by informing the person he's been sent to spy on?"

"I've got no secrets from people I shed blood with, boss." The Iron Bull answered honestly. "And I don't betray the trust of those who watch my back. Qunari or bas, when shit hits the fan the only people we're going to have are the ones at our back."

Nostalgia came over Rajmael as one of his fondest memories flooded back into his mind. Nethras, his adopted brother, once said that to him. Nethras taught him that in all the whole span of the world, the only ones a person could trust was family, and to a Dalish elf, his clan was his family. "Iron Bull, I think you and I are going to get along very well."

"Buy me and the boys a few drinks and we'll get along great!" The Iron Bull laughed.

~XoXoXo~

As Rajmael walked away from Iron Bull he noticed Blackwall standing by himself by the forge, staring at the sundered sky.

"Enjoying the view?" Rajmael inquired humorously.

"Wondering, actually." Blackwall answered truthfully. "Who could be so powerful to make an explosion that it could render the heavens?"

"That's what the Inquisition is trying to find out."

"And a good thing, too." Blackwall stated. "With the chaos going on all over, most people are either too scared are too selfish to do anything. It's good to see some people making a stand, even if it seems impossible. Tell me, is it true about what they say about you?"

Here we go again, Rajmael thought. "That depends, what do they say?"

"That you were guided out of the fade be Andraste herself."

Rajmael gave a sigh. "To be honest, I don't know, nor do I give a damn. I don't worship Andraste, and I highly doubt she'd waste her time on a heathen."

Blackwall shook his head in embarrasment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I guess it doesn't matter, you've got the mark and you've got the job, so long as you can close the breach and save us all, that's good enough for me."

"Most people wouldn't be so accepting of heathen elf taking up such a mantle." Rajmael pointed out. "As demonstrated by what I saw in Val Royeaux."

"Most people, especially in Val Royeaux, have never even seen an arrow come their way. Never even heard of a demon attack. But they'll stick their heads in the sand tell themselves whatever they want to hear to make sure their lives remain undisturbed. Men like us fight so people like them can keep sticking their heads in the sand instead of being put on a pike."

Rajmael's face became somewhat bitter. "Is this what the life of a Grey Warden is like? To live and die going up against horrors most people will never see or even honor?"

"Living for a cause is never easy." Blackwall answered solemnly. "But sometimes, it's the only thing that makes a life worth living."

"Is that why you became a Grey Warden? To live for a cause and give your life meaning?"

Blackwall returned the comment with a chuckle. "Yes. To be a Grey Warden means to give your entire life to the Order and their cause, and the only one you can depend on are your fellow brothers. It's infinitely better than they life I once led."

That sounded like an interesting subject, Rajmael thought. "So…where are you from, originally?"

"The Free Marches." Blackwall answered. "Spent most of my early life in Ostwick."

"Yeah, but when did you become a Grey Warden?" Rajmael asked insistently. "You fight the same way an infantry knight fights, judging from how you use your sword and shield. And it takes a special kind of man to train and inspire farmers to become skilled militia, which means at some point you were a military commander, or something close to that." Despite the fact that Blackwall's facial expression well hidden behind that curtain of facial hair, Rajmael could see his guess was pretty accurate.

"Let's just say I…impressed the right person at the right time. And I've been wearing silver and blue ever since." Blackwall returned almost regretfully. "Whatever I was before doesn't matter, I'm a Grey Warden fighting for your cause and that is the point." Blackwall said with finality.

"All right, I won't press you, your past is your own business so long as you can assist and not deter the Inquisition."

"That is my goal, Herald." The Warden promised.

~XoXoXo~

Varric saw Rajmael walking his way through the village and decided to walk alongside him, laughing about the familiarity of their situation. "So, now we have an actual member of the Ben-Hessrath traveling with, and making reports on us. An arrow-happy, nonsensical elf. A powerful mage who could make half the Orlesian nobility shit themselves. And a Grey Warden. Maker's Breath, my life's starting feel more normal now."

"Normal?" Rajmael questioned. "How in the name of all things hot and sexy could you consider this to be normal?"

"Hey, you gotta remember I used to travel with a former elven slave, a Dalish bloodmage, a lying pirate who was always looking to billow her sails, a Chantry choirboy, and a rebel Grey Warden. After a decade of hanging out with those loonies in Kirkwall, abnormal is my lifestyle."

"Ha-ha! I see your point. So, am in the newest Champion you'll write chronicles about?"

Varric put his thumb and index finger on his solid chin with a thoughtful look on his face. "Well, let's see. Have you ever stopped a Qunari invasion, or delved so far into the Deep Roads even the Wardens were shocked?"

"Well…no, not yet." Rajmael answered sheepishly. "But who's to say it won't happen?

"Then, sorry." Varric chuckled. "Besides, this world's already got a legendary Champion to look up to. You've got make your own reputation, and being called the Herald of Andraste, and slaying a Pride Demon in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes is a good start. And being Dalish is a good way to catch peoples' attention, makes them stop to think."

The fact that he's Dalish reminded Rajmael of something. "You said that Hawk's paramour was Dalish. What was she like?"

"Merrill?" Varric took a moment to fondly remember the shy, sweet girl who'd take the time to coo at snarling dogs and chase butterflies. "Merrill was a very sweet girl. About as shy and as delicate as a Daisy. I think the meanest thing I ever saw her do was make frowny faces. She was a talented mage, too. The First of her clan, in fact. But she had to leave them because her Keeper and most of her clan wouldn't accept what she was trying to do."

That was odd. "What was she trying to that she was forced to leave her own clan?"

"I don't know the full details," Varric sighed. "But she found an ancient elven artifact called an eluvian, and she tried to repair it using blood magic. I don't know if it was the eluvian or the fact she was using bloodmagic, or both, but no one in her clan was willing to accept what she was doing, so she left with Hawke. And eventually the two of them became really close."

Rajmael's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "An eluvian? A real eluvian? I've read books and studied lore about such artifacts. Varric, what happened to it?"

"Last I heard it was still hanging out in her house. Why?"

"Such a discovery could do so much for our people. How could her clan just discard that?" Rajmael couldn't believe it.

"I guess you don't have a problem with bloodmagic, then?"

"All magic is a means to an end. Using blood is no more evil than using lightning to kill a man." Rajmael explained. "I once heard of a Keeper who used bloodmagic to heal his whole clan, but at the cost of his own life. There is no such thing as good or evil magic. Only good and evil intentions."

"Wow. If only Daisy's Keeper felt that way." Varric said sadly. He decided to change the subject to something different before he was reminded too much of the really sad memory of Merrill crying. "You know, I'm actually glad the guy leading us against the Breach is a mage. Maker knows that only solution to a magical problem is probably going to be more magic."

"And I've gotta say, I'm ecstatic to be in the company of some as refined and delicate as you." Rajmael said sincerely with a little twinkle in his eye.

"Er, wow. I, uh, didn't know you felt like that." Varric said nervously. "I'm flattered, but I'm already taken."

"I was talking to Bianca, Varric." Rajmael revealed with his eyes set on the dwarf's precious crossbow. "The way she launches arrows is true poetry."

Varric clutched Bianca closely to his chest to keep the conniving elf away from her. "Whoa, now! Just be careful with that kind of talk. You can look but not touch!"

"But that'll only tempt me until I'm no longer able to resist. It's almost too much to handle."

"You've got a long pointy sword." Varric pointed out. "Go play with that."

Rajmael laughed and waved off his little joke and walked away. Varric was left alone with a concerned look on his face as he held his precious closely to his chest and whispered loving things to it, just so she remembered how much he loved her.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to finally pay the tavern a visit, it had been ages since he had a drink, and Sylaise knew he really needed one right now. He went to bar and tried to get the barkeeps attention. "Excuse me, a pint of mead, if you'd be so kind."

"Right you are, ser. I'm Flissa, your…Oh!" The woman went pale and dropped the empty mug she was holding. From her reaction you'd think a darkspawn just walked up to her. "Oh, y-you're him, aren't you? The Herald of Andraste! And you've come to shame us for how we've treated the elves. I-I pay my elves goof and proper you should know, friend of the Alienage and all."

Rajmael was getting tired of people making assumptions about him and treating the ridiculous notion that he was Andraste's Herald like it should actually mean something. "Flissa, relax. I'm not from an Alienage, I'm Dalish. And I'm not here to judge you for your sins, I'm just here for a drink."

"Oh. Well, that explains the marks on your face. I mean, one pint of mead coming up…your worship." Flisaa went and got a fresh mug and filled it full of mead, her hand still shook as she handed it to Rajmael.

Rajmael finally had a seat, lit his sylvanwood pipe and finally had long quaff of his drink. Before he relaxed any further he decided to make prayer to Sylaise and sprinkle some moss ash on the floor beneath him to invoke her favor.

"Hey, you!" Sera popped out of nowhere, almost interrupting Rajmael's prayer. "So, this is it, huh? I thought it'd be bigger." She giggled incessantly at her own words while Rajmael kept praying. "Get it? Because I said 'bigger' and you're a guy so….Oh, never mind." She finally gave up when she saw Rajmael wasn't going to stop until he finished his prayer, much to her dismay.

"And how're you doing, Sera?" Rajmael asked disinterestedly.

"Me? Oh, good, real good. Glad to see the Herald's not an arse, like I thought you'd be. Saw how talked to Flissa over there." Sera's goofy grin suddenly became a grimace. "Could be a little less elfy, though."

There was that tone again. The way she said that word. It made that feeling inside him stir. "You said that the first time we met. What's wrong with me being an elf? Or have you never looked in a mirror before?"

"Got no problems with elves. I just don't think they should act elfy." Sera answered glibly.

"The elves are people. That's like telling a Fereldan not to be a Fereldan. It makes no sense."

"Sure it does! Like those elves that live in the forest, or that Solas. Got their heads crammed so far up a thousand years ago they don't know what time it is. I prefer not going around barefoot and whining about what happened to a bunch of dead people."

"There's more to the traditions of our people than that, Sera." Rajmael retorted. "Our people created an entire culture that doesn't deserve to be forgotten."

"Why?" Sera snorted. "It's not like it does anyone any good, it's all just a bunch of rubbish from dead people who lost. Sorry, but I think elfy things are stupid, and people who think it actually means anything are more stupid."

"And what've you done with your life that's had any meaning to anyone other than yourself?" Rajmael asked with growing hostility.

"What's that matter? I'm fine on my own, not trying to resurrect the Dales and live like an elf. And if elves trying to live like a thousand years ago and get hurt, well, I think they had it coming, cause that's all that ever happens."

Rajmael gripped his pipe in his hand with such angry force it almost threatened to break. That thing inside him wanted to claw its way out and break Sera's neck, but he ignored it. But he wasn't going to let her insult his heritage to his face and get away with it. He took a long drag of his pipe and slowly exhaled it through his nose. "You know, it's funny, Sera. You sound exactly like the elves who murdered my parents. That was almost the same thing they said to justify their betrayal."

Sera's eyes went wide slightly with guilt. "What? No, I didn't mean…."

"I know what you meant! I grew up with self-centered shits like you!" Rajmael screamed, making the whole tavern go silent. "You're not an elf, I get it. But if you insult my culture, you're not just insulting me, you're insulting my clan and my stepdaughter. And I'll be dead before I let anyone insult Eva to my face!" The angered Herald got up from his seat and pushed his drink away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, set'lin, I need to go. Before I get too drunk and forget that I actually have a conscience. I don't want Flissa to clean up the mess I'd make out of you."

Rajmael stormed out of the tavern and slammed the door behind him, leaving Sera alone in the tavern with everyone glaring at her, and making her feel like an ass. When it finally became evident that they weren't going to stop giving her the stink-eye she decided to make her way out.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael strutted through the camp trying to walk off his anger and keep that thing inside him from coming out. He had remain calm. Followers of Dirthamen don't become homicidal on the whims of emotion, and Arcane Warriors don't stain their blades with the blood with the unworthy.

"Having problems with our residential troublemaker, dear?" Vivienne asked as she was directing some laborers to move her belongings into the Chantry.

Oh, great. Rajmael thought to himself. This bitch is all I need right now. "I think Sera got the message, Vivienne."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she did, dear. You have quiet an authoritative voice." Vivienne complimented. "It is good you let Sera know where she stood. Can't have underlings thinking they can speak smugly to their betters."

Of course an Orlesian would think that. Her arrogance was offensive. "I didn't jump down her throat simply for speaking her mind. I chewed her out because I will not let anyone insult my people to my face. I expect the same thing from anyone else."

"Of course, dear. I understand completely. Anyone who willingly agitates the powerful deserves to to know the consequences, at the very least." Vivienne spoke as a true elitist. "You're remarkably skilled, but you've never been to a Circle as far as I can tell." Vivienne observed. "Are you self-taught?"

"Hardly. I was taught by my Keeper, Istimaethoriel Deshana of Clan Lavellan." Rajmael answered proudly.

"I have heard of the magic of the Dalish elves, but its only third-hand knowledge. I notice that you mix martial fortitude with your magical capabilities. I use similar magic, myself. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Knight-Enchanters?"

It took all of Rajmael's willpower not to gag at the mere mentioning of that class. "I've…ahem, I've heard of them, yes."

"That is good to hear, darling." Vivienne chuckled haughtily. "Mages such as us should be making an example while leading our peers."

At first Rajmael wanted to gag, but now he wanted to vomit. Being compared to those Chantry suck-ups who used diluted techniques stolen from his people was sickening. And Vivienne's unwelcome familiarity with him wasn't very pleasant either. Maybe she needed to take her own advice, and learn her place.

"Vivienne, would be so kind as to walk with me?" Rajmael smiled widely at Vivienne as he offered his arm.

"I'd be delighted, dear." Vivinne graciously took his arm and the two walked to the middle of Haven just outside the Chantry, where everyone was working.

Rajmael stopped right in the middle of the camp and patted Vivienne's arm. "Now, Vivienne would be so kind as to stand right here?"

"Whatever for, darling?" Vivienne asked slightly confused.

"I think you and I need to show some of our peers, who look up to us, what we are capable of. It'd do so well for us to inspire them."

Vivienne looked around and noticed that everyone was indeed looking at them. And if there's one thing she knew from playing the Game, it was to always keep up appearances. "Very well, Herald. What do you have in mind?"

"Please, just stand right here." Rajmael insisted. Vivienne did as she was asked and Rajmael walked away from her. When he had reached six paces he planted his sword into the ground and plucked a blade of grass out from under the snow, then continued walking. When he reached twelve paces from Vivienne, with his sword far out of reach, he turned back to her. "Now, Vivienne, would please be so kind as to throw your most powerful offensive spell at me, and don't hold back."

"What?" Vivienne asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"I'm about as serious as the Breach, Vivienne." Rajmael answered dangerously. "And besides, now we've got an audience. It just wouldn't do to slink off now, would it?"

Indeed, it seemed half the village had gathered. Even in the Orlesian Court, Vivienne had seen powerful nobles have their reputations destroyed because of mouthy servants and laborers seeing something embarrassing and talking about it. "Very well, darling. But your sword is so far away. Don't think it would be wise to grab it?"

"Oh, I won't need it, Vivienne." Rajmael promised. "So, please, don't hold back. Because if you do, I'll know, and I'd be very disappointed."

"Very well, dear." The Imperial Enchantress relented despondently. "I hope you know what you're doing." She grabbed her staff and whirled it as she conjured a powerful offensive spell, she would not be responsible for the consequences. She tapped into the fade and felt its energy course through her as she channeled it through her veins and to her staff as powerful attack.

She threw a massive ball of flame with intensity of dragon fire, Vivienne could almost feel it scorch her face. It flew at Rajmael at full force, but he didn't set up any barriers or even move. He was going to be burnt to cinders.

Just as the fireball was about to consume the Herald, it was sent flying skyward where it exploded like a volcano by an ethereal blade, then as quick as lightning, the blade extended from Rajmael's hand and went flying right at Vivienne. It stopped right in front of her left eye.

Vivienne was stunned. How did he do that? Rajmael's sword was still planted in the ground. Rajmael walked up to her, the sword grew shorter with each step he took but tip was still held up in front of her face. Vivienne looked at the blade held in the Herald's hand and realized that the mysterious magical blade was actually the blade of grass clutched between his fingertips. Impossible.

Rajmael retracted the blade from Vivienne's shocked face and held the piece of grass in front of her. "This blade of grass is stronger. More in tuned with nature. And full of life. And when your rigid, stale, Circle magic cannot match the power and formidability of this little thing here, all I can say is…You. Are. Fucked." Rajmael's eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at Vivienne. "Don't ever compare your magic to mine, Vivienne. It's as insulting as it is a fucking lie."

Vivienne felt a cold rage churning inside her. She had just been showed up by an elf of all things in front of everyone in the Inquisition. She could hear that impudent Sera and that abhorrent apostate, Solas, laughing at her. "Such magic is impressive, indeed." She cringed. "But do you really think all mages have your strength of will? What will become of the Circle, I wonder? Do you foresee the Dalish taking us all under their wing?"

"Your Circles have failed. A thousand years of abuse, mistreatment and fear led to this war." Rajmael answered without looking back. "Was it truly a wonder they struck first?"

"What happened in Kirkwall was lamentable, but you can't ignore the fact that mages need a Circle to protect and train them." Vivienne argued to Rajmael's back. "Maker knows, they'll find neither on their own. Tell me, what happens to the unfortunate Dalish mage who isn't lucky enough to be first or second?"

Rajmael went stiff as a board, as he felt that thing inside him stir at that question. How dare she? "I wouldn't know. Seeing as I was originally the Fourth of my clan."

"How fortunate, but there are other mages amongst your people who have not been so lucky." Vivienne practically sneered. "For those who value survival, sentimentality is a weakness. One that my foolish brethren have ignored and used as an excuse to become terrorists."

"The opinion of a mage who wasn't even important enough to be at the Conclave, means less than nothing to me." Rajmael looked back at her with that dangerous glare in his eyes. "Don't you ever fucking speak of my people with such disrespect again, Vivienne. That's your only warning."

Rajmael left for the Chantry, leaving Vivienne angry and confounded. This ignorant elf knew nothing of the world or what needed to be done. His people deliberately isolated themselves from the rest of the world and had no idea how it truly functions. And now this wide-eyed, naïve elf possessed a power he knew nothing of, and with it he could destroy everything she has worked for. No, this Inquisition needed her. To guide it back to order and make sure that the mages and Templars both maintained their place in the world. And she would make sure that this misguided Herald was led down the right path, whether he knew it or not.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael entered the Chantry to speak with the War Council and go over what they've learned and what they must do.

"It is good you've returned, Herald." Josephine greeted whole heartedly. "We've heard about what happened with the Chantry."

"It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses, as well as the capital." Cullen griped. "It seems they're more content to wage war than perform the duty."

"At least we know now that the Chantry is no real threat to us." Rajmael reminded. "Without their military arm or a Divine to lead them, they're all but useless."

"That may be." Cassandra agreed dismally. "But the Lord-Seeker may be a threat all on his own. He is…not what I remember."

"That is true." Leliana voiced. "He has taken what's left of the Order and fortified them at Therinfall Redoubt. My scouts' reports from there have been rather strange."

"We have to look into it." Cullen urged. "Surely not all of the Order supports Lucien's madness. We may still save them yet."

"Or we could approach the rebel mages in Redcliffe." Josephine suggested. "If anyone is desperate for allies, it would be them."

"You think the mages are more untied? It could be ten times worse!" Cullen argued.

"So we should just discard them?" Josephine continued. "The mages are powerful and maybe our key to closing the Rift."

"They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate then you realize." Cassandra reminded. "Anyone of them could have been responsible for what happened at the Conclave."

"The same could be said about the Templars." Leliana pointed out. "From what I understand, they had more to lose if Justinia had her way after they broke their vows."

"First thing's first." Rajmael said authoritatively as he looked at the War Map. "We must approach either faction from a position of strength rather than desperation. If we go to them weak and begging for aid, they can demand whatever they wish from us. But if we approach them with strength and accomplishment behind us, they will know we are to be reckoned with."

"A sound strategy." Leliana agreed. "It is never wise to be the weaker party at the negotiating table."

"Agreed. Both sides respect accomplishment more than supposed promises." Cullen nodded.

"And this will also earn us some friends in the Bannorn." Josephine pointed out. "Many Ferelden lords were killed at the Conclave, leaving the region in chaos. The people and the crown will most likely support our efforts for stability."

"We will leave to depart soon." Rajmael announced. "Ready the scouts and any Inquisition forces we can spare. Then send messages out to the locals that the Inquisition is there to provide aid."

~XoXoXo~

The War Council departed to make their preparations. Rajmael saw Mother Giselle speaking with a Chanter.

"Greetings, Herald of Andraste." The Mother welcomed politely. "How fares your quest to seal the Breach?"

"It's a colossal pain in the ass." Rajmael answered with voice full of agitation. "Everyone is looking to profit from the chaos or run in circles about it. Now people are looking to me to hold their hand and get them through it."

"Blessed are those who stand before the wicked and do not falter." The Chanter quoted.

Mother Giselle nodded her head thankfully to the Chanter. "The task of closing the Breach is a heavy burden, but you are no longer alone in you task. Look to Andraste. While she carried the Chant, she did not do it by herself. She had generals, advisors, and though it is considered heresy to speak of, she also had the Elven war leader, Thane Shartan guiding her. Carry yourself through your task well, but never forget those who stand to aid you."

Rajmael grimaced as the disdain with which Mother Giselle mentioned Thane Shartan and spat on the ground of the Chantry. "You realize that I worship the Creators of the Elvhen, not the Maker, I hope."

"Fair enough." Giselle sighed. "But whether or not you follow the Chant of Light, Andraste was real."

"So was Thane Shartan." Rajmael interjected angrily. That was a fact most humans tried to erase.

"And both their deeds are set in fact." Mother Giselle finished. "In any event, I pray this Inquisition is less…brutal than its predecessor."

"Oh? How do you mean?"

"The First Inquisition was formed in a time when dangerous magic and dark cults swarmed the land, after the First Blight and before the foundation of the Chantry." Giselle explained. "The Inquisitors were hunters and warriors who hunted these dangerous sects down. In the time of Andraste, they came into her service, and after she was slain, they tried to spread the Chant of Light by force."

"Sounds familiar." Rajmael snorted. "Seems the Original Inquisition and the Chantry I know have a lot in common."

"But that was not how it was meant to be." Giselle argued. "When their time was over, they formed the Circles and the Templar Order. They sheathed their swords and tried to work to peace as Andraste preached. She believed in coexistence, and wanted the Chant of Light to be spread by example. We win no converts by shedding blood."

Rajmael felt his that thing inside him start to stir. Again. And it wanted out. "Well, then by that rationale, you're either a hypocrite, or a liar. As evidenced by the Exalted March on people."

A hurt look spread across Giselle's face at the mentioning of that part of history. "That is a hotly debated topic in many circles. Your people invaded Montsimmard and were ready to invade Val Royeaux. And even then it was only Orlais that sent forces against the Dales."

"And then you made a liar out of Andraste by giving the Dales to the Orlesian Empire!" Rajmael yelled. "Elves live like slaves when they should be nobles because of your precious Chantry!"

That insipid Chanter placed his arm on the angry Herald's arm as though to counsel him. "And so Rajmael in the heathen temple recanted, 'Sing only the Word, Speak only the Chant'."

It seemed at that moment everyone in Rajmael's party and War Council was in the Chantry for one reason or another. And at that very moment that thing inside Rajmael screamed to be let out. And this time, Rajmael listened to it. Rage. Rage. RAGE!

"AAAAGH!" The Chanter screamed as Rajmael snapped his arm backwards, then proceeded to smash his face in in with his fists, while everyone, especially Mother Giselle stood in shock.

"General Rajmael NEVER denounced the Creators! He never surrendered! He stayed back to fight to give the clans time to evacuate!" Rajmael's rage echoed throughout Haven. "I am proud to bear his name!"

The pissed off elf pounded the Chanter's face into the ground until his nose was flattened and his teeth was smashed out. Before he finished, he kicked the messed up Chanter in the torso and felt the shemlen's ribs break beneath his foot.

Rajmael turned his attention back to a shocked Mother Giselle and removed his robes from his upper body in front of everyone and revealed his horrific scars to all who were present. Everyone, even Cassandra, was shocked to see the damage that was done to his body. Those horrendous burns that marred his whole upper body and snaked up his neck. The depth and intensity of the burns should have killed him, but somehow he survived.

Josephine gasped in horror and painful tears actually started to well up in her eyes at the sight of the Herald's terrible wounds.

Cullen grimaced at the familiarity of such torment. He remembered what it was like to be tortured at someone else's leisure.

Leliana knew that the Chantry had never been kind to the elves, but she never knew that members of the Chantry actually went out of their way to torment someone like this. It was evil.

"THIS IS WHAT YOUR PRECIOUS CHANTRY HAS DONE!" Rajmael screamed with the force of storm. "Your Templars cut my parents' heads off right in front of me, while one of your precious Chantry Mother's ordered that I be BURNED ALIVE! I can still remember the smell of my own skin cooking! Every abuse, every Elven son murdered by Chevaliers, every elven woman raped by humans, your vile, disgusting Chantry made possible!" Rajmael was so angry there were tears in his eyes. "Your Chantry started this war! You abused the mages! You let the Templars become vicious dogs! Everything that has gone wrong, and everyone who is suffers now is because of you! Don't you EVER try to tell me what good the Chantry does! I've seen it for what it truly is!"

Rajmael finally breathed the rage out of his lungs. That thing inside him was satisfied. Rajmael finally realized that everyone was looking at him, and finally decided to cover up his scars. After he regained his composure he addressed his party members. "I want everyone ready to leave for the Hinterlands in one hour. Get your shit together, or get the fuck out." Rajmael strode out to find a place to meditate and regain his composure.

The tears in Josephine's eyes now rolled down her cheeks as she saw the Herald walk out of the Chantry. From how sarcastic and joking he was, she never would have guessed that he was the victim of such torment. How could anyone be so cruel as to do that to another living person? If her both her parents died so suddenly it would crush her, but he had to watch as his parents were murdered? Josephine's heart was truly broken for him.

Cullen knew that kind of hateful anger. He also knew what it was like to suffer and be tortured at the hands of someone else, and then hate them for it. But Rajmael suffered at the hands of the Chantry, which is supposed to be a beacon of light and hope for everyone, but he knew that had always been just a smoke screen for their political agenda. And Rajmael knew that even more.

Leliana was so glad Aedan wasn't here right now. If he heard Rajmael's outburst he'd laugh his ass off right in her ear, and brag about how he was right about the Chantry for all these years. But right now, she couldn't help but feel that he was right all along. She served Dorothea in the hopes of serving the Chantry as she thought it was, but at the same time she completely ignored those who suffered under the Chantry's authority. Maker, she wished she were someone else right now.

Well, shit. Varric thought to himself. If Merrill were here she'd be crying her eyes out right now. He always knew that the elves and the Chantry had a shaky history, but he never knew that the Chantry was this belligerent to them. If there's one thing he learned, it's you never know how painful one person's story is until you push them in the wrong direction and blow up in your face. Kind of like what happened when the Qunari invaded Kirkwall.

Having spent most of his life on one battlefield or another, Blackwall had seen every manner of cruelty inflicted on an enemy. Some were justified, acting out of anger against a cruel enemy, while others where only for cruelty's sake. But that? There was no justification good enough, especially when it was done by Chantry hands. And Rajmael was only a child when they did that to him? How did he survive?

Elves tried to be elfy and that got them killed and the Herald hot burned, literally. And now his response was to act even elfy-er even after that got him badly hurt? That was really weird. Sera couldn't understand why elves had to act like elves. Why couldn't they try acting more like people? Still, real shame. She'd probably hate everybody if someone did that to her.

Well, that certainly explains everything. Vivienne wondered if Rajmael's distaste for the Chantry stemmed purely from a petty racial grudge or if his animosity was justified. Now she knew for certain. Any action he took concerning the Chantry would be clouded by his unfortunate childhood trauma, and it would certainly affect the Inquisition. What happened to him as a child was terrible, no doubt, but it shouldn't influence his present decisions. And if anything, it should have taught him the necessity of being in a Circle. Had his parents sent him there those foolish villagers and their small-minded Chantry Mother wouldn't have felt the need to burn him. Of course, she'd never say that to his face.

Damn. That elf's scary when he's pissed, Iron Bull thought to himself. He had seen how mages get treated under the Qun, and it wasn't pleasant. Some Qunari respected the sarebaas for fulfilling their role under the Qun despite the fact they must be treated as weapons, while others simply saw them as animals no different than the Tal-Vashoth. It helped that they were always warring with the Tevinter Magisters, so Ariqun always had justification on how they must treat their mages. Still, Bull was smart enough to know that not everyone deserves to be treated like pigshit just because of the way they were born. And Rajmael was an elf that he did not want to piss off, especially now.

Suffering was an all too familiar concept to the modern-day elves, both in the cities and the wilds. And almost all of that suffering they've endured was inflicted on them by human ignorance and prejudice, Solas had seen many such memories, and they were always painful. But it's different when it is your own pain, your own memories that reminds one of such lessons. Rajmael's loyalty to his clan and desire to leave the Inquisition no longer seemed as foolish or as selfish as he once thought. To have suffered such a grievous trauma and still have the willpower and desire to revive and master the ways of the Arcane Warrior, Solas believed Rajmael's personal strength and fortitude must be incredible.

Cassandra never felt guiltier in her whole life. That was why he had those scars? No wonder he wanted to go back to his clan, the world of humans and their Chantry has brought him nothing but pain and anguish. She knew that kind of raw hatred, it consumed her for half her life. It wasn't until she met Regalyan did she finally learn to let go and realized that not everything is what she perceived it to be. His pain reached out to her. Why did this hurt her more than it should? Cassandra could feel her heart breaking in her chest.

"Mother Giselle, are you all right?" Cassandra finally asked the stunned woman.

Giselle helped the badly beaten Chanter to the healers and rested herself at a nearby table. She had never been spoken to thusly. "I-I'm alright, Seeker Pentaghast. Just a little…shocked is all."

"I am truly sorry for what he said…."

"No. Do not be. I should be the one apologizing." Giselle admitted sorrowfully. "It was foolish of me to expect him to gracefully accept such ignorance and disrespect on my part."

"That still doesn't excuse such behavior."

"Doesn't it?" Giselle asked rhetorically. "The Chantry has committed many, many wrongs in the past, and the elves and the mages have always been the victims of our arrogance. Help him, Cassandra. Help him to know that the Chantry doesn't have to be the way he remembers it. This Inquisition can help it become how it was meant to be. You know better than anyone else what it's like to have what you love cruelly taken from you. Perhaps he will listen to you."

Cassandra thought that was ludicrous. She had been a loyal servant of the Chantry almost her whole life, she was a Seeker for Andraste's sake. What could she possibly say to an elf who not only worshiped different gods, but one who had a grudge against the Chantry? "I…I will try, Mother."

Cassandra left while the others prepared for their excursion to the Hinterlands. She knew there was probably only one place Rajmael would be right now.

~XoXoXo~

As Cassandra expected, Rajmael was sitting in the valley where she first found him meditating, where they first sparred. Once again she found him in a meditative state, but this time no flowers bloomed around him. Instead he sat before a burning candle, the flames burned and receded as he breathed in and out. An obvious method of trying to calm down.

"If you're looking for an apology for what I did to that Chanter, Cassandra, you can forget it." Rajmael called out. "I did the same thing you would have done if someone insulted your precious Divine."

"I see you've calmed down now." Cassandra observed. Rajmael said nothing. "What…what you said, about your scars. Was it all true?"

"No." Rajmael answered sarcastically. "I just beat the shit out of a Chanter and yelled at an old lady because I wanted to see her cry. Yes, every word of it was true."

"But I thought you were born amongst the Dalish?"

"You think the Chantry or the Qunari are the only ones who accept elven converts?" Rajmael asked sadly. "No. I was…born in a small village between Ostwick and Kirkwall. My parents did their best to keep to the old ways and secretly worshipped the Creators." A wave of sadness swirled in his golden eyes as he remembered his painful origins. "When my magic manifested, my parents tried to make contact with the Dalish because they heard about how the mages in the Kirkwall Circle were treated, and they wanted to spare me from that. Our neighbor found out and ratted us out to the local Chantry."

"And then what?"

"The Templars barged into our home and dragged us out in front of the Chantry where the local Mother was waiting for us. When they discovered the totems my parents kept to honor our gods, she ordered the Templars to execute my parents for forsaking the Maker, and that I was to be burned at the stake because my magic was tainted by their heathen ways. I was only ten years old. And just as they were about to light the fire I made prayer to Mythal, and when they actually lit the pyre, Mythal answered."

"What happened?"

"My parents were able to make contact with the Lavellan Clan, and their hunters were able to subdue the Templars while Keeper Deshana saved me. But by the time they got to me, my body was already on fire and I was badly burned. I was in a coma for a month while the Keeper and Healer worked tirelessly to save me."

"Do they…do they still hurt?" Cassandra asked remorsefully. "Your burns?"

"Sometimes I wake up feeling the pain of my body being on fire. But the worst part was…it was another elf that turned us in." Rajmael's face was painted with a mix of sadness and confusion. "Even to this day I can't fathom elves turning on and despising other elves, when we should be working together. After that I devoted my life to the study of the ancient ways and honoring the Creators. And I chose to walk the ways of Dirthamen, so that knowledge might purge ignorance."

"You…you didn't want revenge?"

"No. Vengeance would not have helped my people. It would only take from us, and give us nothing." Rajmael answered sadly but truthfully. "Only by walking the path of Dirthamen will I be able to find the ancient knowledge of our ancestors and make my people great again."

"You're a better person than I am, Rajmael." Cassandra admitted bitterly. "My parents died when I was very young, my older brother Antony and I were placed in the care of our uncle, but I was mostly raised by my brother. He was a dragon hunter, he represented everything a Pentaghast could be. I idolized him, we used to talk about how we would be dragon hunters together."

"What happened to him?" Rajmael asked apprehensively.

"A cult of bloodmages wanted Antony to retrieve dragon's blood for them to use in their rituals. He refused, then they invaded my family's home and killed him right in front of me."

"That must have been horrible. I'm sorry for your loss."

"It was the end of my whole world." Cassandra remembered. "I begged the Chantry to let me become a Templar, but they sent me to the Seekers instead. I joined because I wanted to hunt mages, track down apostates and pretend that they were the ones who killed my brother. It took me many years to realize I was wrong. Killing for hatred's sake is not the Maker's work." A chocked sob escaped from Cassandra's lips. "You are better than I because despite what happened to you, what has continued to happen to you, you still think of your people. It is…an admirable quality."

"Are you trying to flatter me now?" Rajmael smiled.

Cassandra choked back a laugh. Not too long ago he was doing the same thing to her. "We aren't all like the…people who did that to you. The Chantry is more than that."

"The Chantry's spent seven hundred years denying the existence of Thane Shartan and telling a lie about one of my people's greatest heroes, Cassandra." Rajmael stated angrily. "You'll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

"And I don't blame you. The Chantry has not represented the Maker's will as it should have." Cassandra admitted dourly. "Perhaps we need the perspective of one of the people we abused to move forward. Perhaps the Maker truly did send you to show us the error of our ways."

"Cassandra, you know I don't believe in the Maker." Rajmael reminded. He exhaled slowly and fully regained himself. "I won't do this for the Chantry, it isn't my problem. I'm doing this so people can continue to live without demons appearing on their doorsteps to eat them. If the Chantry decides to learn by the Inquisition's example, then that's their doing." Rajmael extended his hand out to Cassandra.

"That is all I ask." Cassandra grabbed The Herald's and pulled him up from the ground.

Rajmael didn't realize how strong Cassandra actually was when she effortlessly pulled him off his feet and right in front of her. They were so close his scarred, bare chest was almost touching her armored breasts.

Cassandra merely intended to pull him back to his feet, she didn't mean to bring him so close to her. He was so close she could actually feel his warm breath on her face. Instinctively, and without thinking, she traced her bare hand along the scars of his chest, and felt their waxy texture beneath her fingertips. Rajmael gently grabbed her hand and squeezed it tenderly in his grip. Cassandra's earthy brown eyes met his liquid golden ones, and neither one of them were able, nor did they want to look away. Rajmael's hand reached caringly reached for her face, and Cassandra welcomed it when….

"'Scuse me? Herald, ahem, Seeker?" Varric called sheepishly.

Cassandra turned red as a tomato and grunted in anger, while Rajmael sighed uncomfortably. "What is it, Varric!?" Cassandra growled.

"We're, uh, we're ready to go when you are." Varric aswered as he eyed the two inquisitively. "Was I interrupting something?"

"No!" Cassandra denied with purple ears.

"Yes." Rajmael answered truthfully. Cassandra gave him an angry scowl to change his answer. "Well, no. Not anymore."

"Well, you just let us now when you're ready, and well get going." Varric finished as he walked away. "Wow, and here I thought shit like this only happened in one of my stories. I gotta remember this part."

Rajmael scratched his head casually while Cassandra stood there stiff as a tree with an embarrassed look painted all over her face. "Well, I…I'm glad we had this talk." Cassandra finally said trying to ignore their little moment. "I will see you later. At the stables. Before we leave." Cassandra strutted off after Varric trying to forget what just happened.

Rajmael tilted his head and watched Cassandra's ass in motion as she walked away. No matter how much he looked at that heart-shaped region, he never got tired of it. But now was not the time for possibly ill-fated infatuations, nor was it time for him to feel sorry for himself and his unfortunate past. Now was the time for action. Rebel mages and rogue templars were tearing up the Hinterlands, and he was to lead the Inquisition's forces in stabilizing the area.

Author's Note:

Okay, so this was more of a filler chapter, so sorry there wasn't much action. There's going to be a lot more blood and guts going on in the next chapter, I swear. Please review and give me your honest opinion.

And just in case it needs to be said: Dragon Age and all it's characters, concepts and lore are the property of the BioWare gaming company. I own/claim nothing.