Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

31. Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye

Cassandra made herself quite cozy in her favorite spot in the entire castle: in Rajmael's arms. The two of them were laying comfortably together in Rajmael's bed. Even now with the world facing the apex of evil, and even after all the years she spent as a Seeker, Cassandra never felt more at peace than when she was with him. It seemed a little unfair that she was here feeling such a joy with him while so many others were suffering and had so little, but she couldn't help it. This is where she wanted to be, what she wanted more than anything.

Cassandra had to admit, she had more fun at the game of wicked grace than she anticipated. At first she was apprehensive to want to join, especially since it was Varric who invited her. Shortly after the game was over, Cassandra and Rajmael went to his quarters to blow off even more steam. And after several blissfully long hours of intimate passion, Cassandra found herself laying in his arms again.

Never in all her years serving the Chantry had Cassandra known such happiness. All her years in service to the Divine was in the pursuit of duty and nothing else. Anyone who takes up the sword for a cause does not do so in the hopes of finding joy. Even with the world ending around them and all the disdain he had for the Chantry, Rajmael looked passed her faults and the differences between their races and religion, and gave his heart to her. There isn't anywhere else in the world she wanted to be right now than with him. Cassandra nestled closer into Rajmael's chest and began letting herself drift off into a peaceful sleep listening to her love's gentle heartbeat. She always slept so well with his heart beneath her ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

That was not Rajmael's heartbeat. Something was hitting against the balcony door. Cassandra rose from the comfort of the bed and the warmth of her lover to see what it could possibly be. And she kept sword in hand. This castle was so high in the mountains and this room was in the tallest tower in the building. Aside from birds, nothing else should get this high up.

She wrapped a robe around herself and cautiously walked to balcony door and saw nothing. Did the wind blow something all the way up here? Cassandra opened the door and the instant the hinges started moving, something burst into the room and flew right past her. It happened so fast Cassandra didn't even see what it was, but it landed on Rajmael's desk. Cassandra could hardly believe what just intruded in here, almost scaring her to death, and was now staring at her with a pair of large, bright yellow eyes in a heart-shaped face. A barn owl, of all things. The night-bird just sat there quietly, staring at Cassandra as though it wanted something.

"Cassandra? What's wrong?" Rajmael asked rising from his bed.

"This...foul bird just flew in here and sat itself on your desk." Cassandra answered, upset that this bird interrupted her blissful sleep.

Rajmael looked at the owl sitting on his desk and toppling the carved totems of the Creators he had sitting there. A look of bewilderment came over his face as the barn owl looked right back at him. "I don't believe it...Tylluan?"

The white owl flapped its wings and shrieked in confirmation.

Cassandra sheathed her sword. "Is this owl familiar to you, Rajmael?"

"Tylluan is...is Keeper Deshana's owl. What's he doing here?" Rajmael took a closer look at the bird. "It looks like he has some kind of message." Rajmael unclasped the small message tied to Tylluan's talon and held it in his hand. "Thank you, Tylluan. You can go home now." The barn owl cried in thanks, beat it wings and created a small gust of wind as flew back out of the tower. Rajmael's eyes scanned the message that Tylluan had flown all the way from Wycome to deliver. He folded the message in his hand and a veil of pain came over his face. "Oh, no..."

"Rajmael? What's wrong?" Cassandra asked deeply concerned. "Did something happen to Eva?"

"No, Eva is safe." Rajmael answered forlornly. "No, it's...it's someone else. It's my father, he...he's dying."

The Next Morning...

Rajmael had summoned his War Council and the rest of his company also gathered in the War Room. The message he received from his Keeper deeply troubled him and decided to explain what he was going to do. This was not something he could just ignore.

"But I don't understand.." Leliana said confused. "I thought you said your father was killed when you were still a child."

"Junnarel is my step-father. He rescued me when I was condemned to burn, and adopted me into his family." Rajmael answered solemnly. "I would be dead now if it weren't for him."

"This is terrible news. Inquisitor, I...I am so sorry." Josephine spoke sincerely.

"What...what are you planning to do, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.

"I am going to head over to Wycome, and I am going to speak to Junnarel again before he dies." Rajmael stated determinedly.

A slight wave of surprise went through everyone in the room. This was quite an unexpected course of action. And not one everyone thought was a good idea.

"Forgive me, Inquisitor, but I don't think that's a good idea." Cullen contended. "With Corypheus' next plan of action unknown to us, and the Red Templars trying to gather their strength, now isn't the time to just leave the southern continent for the Free Marches."

"Darling, I am sorry about what happening to your father, I truly am, but surely you can see that it's simply foolish to just abandon your duty while so much is at stake." Vivienne insisted. "You cannot just abandon your duty over such a sentimental whim, not matter how heartbreaking."

Solas stepped forward. "You say that, Enchanter, yet everyone here in this room has beseeched the Inquisitor to aid us in our personal matters. I don't think it is anyone's place to say that his own personal interest is of any less importance."

"Dear Solas, your loyalty is touching, but your logic is misplaced." Vivienne argued. "All of us, well, most of us at least, had something to contribute with our personal requests. I am merely trying to inform our dear leader that we simply do not have the time to be going to the other half of the South for something that will not aid him in our quest to stop Corypheus. If you truly care about our mission, or our leader, you would tell him the same."

"Then by that rationale, Vivienne, you need to step down and shut the fuck up." Rajmael hissed deeply offended. "Because Junnarel has contributed more to our mission than anyone else in the Inquisition, and everyone in this world owes him! Because Corypheus would have destroyed the world a long time ago if it weren't for him!"

"What are you talking about, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked. She, everyone in the room, needed to know what he was talking about.

There was a deep intensity in the Inquisitor's eyes as he spoke. "Junnarel was the one who rescued me from the pyre when the Chantry ordered that I be burned. He owed me and parents absolutely nothing, he could left me on that stake to die and no one would have blamed him. Instead, he risked his life and the Chantry's anger to save me. If he hadn't rescued me, I wouldn't have been able to take the Anchor from Corypheus at the Conclave, and I know for a face that you would all be dead and Corypheus would have conquered the world by now. Have you had such an impact on the world?" If Rajmael's glare became any more intense, he'd burn a hole right through Vivienne. "This is the second time I've had remind you not to speak of my people with such disrespect, Vivienne. I will not warn you a third time."

Everyone, especially Vivienne, stood silent. Most of them were actually sympathetic to Rajmael's dilemma, and none of them could argue with what he just said. After everything he had done and been through, Rajmael deserved to have closure with the man who became his father.

"When do you intend to leave, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked giving in to Rajmael's reasons.

"Right now. Keeper Deshana's message said he didn't have much time."

"I'll arrange for the fastest ship in the Val Royeaux's port to take you to Wycome." Josephine informed sincerely. 'I hope you get there in time."

"Who do you intend to take with you?" Cullen inquired.

"I'll go." Cassandra spoke eagerly. "I...wouldn't want you to go through this alone."

Rajmael looked at Cassandra with a tenderness that made her blush. "I appreciate your concern, vhenan."

"I shall go as well." Solas said. "I am curious to see the man and people that raised our Inquisitor."

"Me too." Iron Bull added. "Anyone who can raise a guy like Lavellan can give my old Tamassran a run for her money."

"I haven't been to Wycome in almost two decades. I'm eager to see how much it's changed with the elves there." Blackwall spoke.

"You helped me with the issue with my father, Inquisitor. It would be terrible manners for me not to show you the same courteously." Dorian said graciously.

"It's been a while since I've been to Wycome, and I know my friend Daisy would love to hear about a city being led by elves. That would just make her year." said Varric.

"My friend Rhys saw his mother die. It hurt him so badly inside, but it helped him. Knowing how much his mother cared made him stronger." Cole said softly. "I'd like to go, too."

"Sure, I'll go. I got nothin' better to do." Sera shrugged.

Vivienne remained silent, but everyone knew she was going to come along. It would be considered scandalous if the Inquisitor took everyone else and just left her behind.

"Then we must go now." Rajmael ordered. "My father's time is short."

Much Later, On The Waking Sea to Wycome...

The ship Josephine had arranged to take them to Wycome was indeed the fastest one in port. And with the Inquisitor and his entourage onboard, that motivated the crew to work extra hard to get them to their destination even faster. Rajmael wasn't so sure that was a good thing. The closer they got to Wycome, the slower he wanted to go. He was so nervous he had smoked and refilled his pipe twelve times before they even arrived.

Rajmael refill his pipe with his favorite tobacco for the twelfth time, but his hands were shaking too much. And it wasn't because the ship was rocking on the Amaranthine Sea's choppy waters, but because Rajmael was so nervous he could barely hold his hand steady.

"Rajmael, calm down." Cassandra bade standing right next to him, noticing how on edge her lover was. "You're going to see your father, not fight a high dragon. I thought you'd be excited."

"Truth be told, vhenan, I've never been so scared before." Rajmael admitted nervously. "Fighting a high dragon right now would be preferable."

Cassandra reached over and comfortingly held his hand in hers. "It will be alright." She said assured as much as possible, comforting people was not something she was ever good at, but for Rajmael she would try. She understood knew better than most why he was so nervous to reunite with his clan and kin. His greatest fear...But they had to proceed.

"Is there anything we should know of your clan before we arrive?" Solas inquired.

"Indeed. I suppose we should make sure to make a good impression. Wouldn't want to embarrass Cassandra in front of her future in-laws." Dorian chuckled mockingly.

"Dorian. Do not. Say. Another. Word." Cassandra ordered, stiff as a lead pipe and blushing a shade of crimson that could shame a tomato.

"Wycome being ruled by elves. I never thought I'd live to see the day." Blackwall said thoughtfully. "I wonder if they'll still be throwing huge parties after this."

"Indeed. This is the first time any major city has been ruled by elves since the fall of the Dales. I am curious to know what the future politics might be." Vivienne spoke.

"I cannot speak for the others on this new city council, but if Keeper Deshana is on there, then I'd say the city is in good hands." Rajmael answered honestly. "She's led three generations of my clan well and with wisdom, and she is one of the most respected Keepers of all the clans. Deshana will take it upon herself to know every concern in the city and how to address, and if she can't she will find someone who can. She will look after the city as well as she has my clan."

"What about your step-father? Is there anything we should know about him?" Varric asked.

"Yeah. Is he as much of a badass as you are?" Iron Bull asked hopefully.

"Yes, there is something you should all know about my step-father. So listen closely." Rajmael turned to look at all his companions with a deathly seriousness in his golden eyes. "Junnarel is Nethras' father."

Everyone went silent at the mere mention of Nethras Lavellan. The Dalish radicle who, after losing his beloved wife to human hatred, led a cult of elven assassins hellbent on destroying all the humans of the south with the lost secrets of two ancient elven temples. The brother Rajmael killed to save the humans who abused his people.

"Nethras' father?" Cassandra repeated with shocked disbelief.

"Why do you think Nethras always called me 'Little Brother'?" Rajmael continued with a hint of emotion in his voice. "So when we arrive do not even think of mentioning his name, and especially don't try bringing up the Chantry with my clan. The last time my clan had any interaction with the Chantry it was when the Templars attacked us and Eva became an orphan. So perhaps appreciate why I am so nervous right now. And everyone loved Nethras and Evanura. Every member of my clan, man, woman and child, takes great pride in our heritage, and this sense of pride teaches us to be strong. So free bit of advice: mind your manners and be careful about what you say about elves. Sera, I'm mostly talking to you." All eyes turned to their residential Red Jenny, fully aware of her anti-elven attitude.

"What? Don't go lookin' at me like that! I ain't gonna say anything!" Sera denied vehemently.

"I truly hope so, Sera. Because if you go running that lip off, it's not my father you need to worry about, it's my mother, Ariva who will mess your day up." Rajmael warned. "Everyone in my clan is trained for combat out of necessity, most of us have been fighting our whole lives. So if you try causing trouble, you're going to find more than you can handle."

"What...what can you tell us about your step-parents?" Cassandra asked with curiosity and her own nervousness.

Rajmael sighed deeply with an air of respect about him. "They're the ones who have been raising Eva in my stead. Ariva, my mother, is our clan healer. She taught Evanura the Vir Atish'an, the Path of Healing. She herself is a powerful mage in her own right. And trust me, if you piss her off you'll definitely need a healer, and she's amongst the best of the clans. Keeper Deshana once said Ariva was as caring and protective as a mother bear, but infinitely more fearsome'."

"And what about your step-father?" Cassandra pressed.

Rajmael leaned against the side of the boat and stared at the water. "Junnarel was our clan's best hunter, before Nethras claimed that distinction. He taught everyone in our clan how to follow the way of the Vir Tanadhal. Next to the Keeper, he commands the most respect of our clan. And he introduced me to the Dirth'ena enasalin, the Knowledge That Leads to Victory." Rajmael said nostalgically. "After I was rescued by the Dalish and wounds had finally healed, I wanted to go back to my village where parents were killed."

"Why would you want to do something like that?" Varric asked.

"Revenge." Rajmael answered coldly. "I just witnessed my parents executions and my burns still agonized my whole being! I was young, I was angry, and I wanted blood. I wanted to use my magic to kill everyone in that whole village for what they did to me!" Rajmael took a deep, calming breath. "But Junnarel stopped me from leaving, bade me not to. Said that I would dishonor my parents by foolishly running to my death. He took to me to Keeper Deshana and handed me an ancient book, an ancient training manual of the Arcane Warriors. They told me that that was what my parents died for. For me to have the chance to learn of my heritage, to pass that knowledge on to me and know what it is to be elf. Junnarel told me that vengeance never honors sacrifice, and if I just threw my life away I would shame everything my parents believed in. I could either leave like I wanted, or I could honor my parents by learning this ancient knowledge and live a better life than they did. That night I made my decision, and devoted my life to the Dirth'ena enasalin and the rediscovery of my people's lost knowledge."

"I thought you said that it was your clan's Keeper that taught you magic?" Vivienne recalled curiously.

"Keeper Deshana showed me how to walk the steps. But it was Junnarel who showed me the path, and in so doing, I mastered myself." Rajmael answered proudly.

"Well, it looks like you'll have your long overdue family reunion sooner than you think, Inquisitor." Varric pointed. "Looks like we're here."

The ship pulled into the Wycome city harbor, and everyone disembarked off it. They saddled their mounts and rode towards the city. Rajmael felt his heart pounding like a blacksmith's hammer in his chest with every step Neirin took closer to the city. Now Rajmael did wish there was a High Dragon to kill.

Wycome wasn't the oldest or largest city in the Free Marches, but it was certainly one of the most famous. Being the northernmost city-state of the Free Marches and being just south of Antiva, Wycome was the second largest exporter of Antivan wines after Orlais. An impressive feat considering that the population of the entire city was less than a third of Val Royeaux, and it brought them much wealth and trade from the North. But that was not why Wycome was so famous. Thanks to the influences of it northern neighbors in Antiva and Rivain, Wycome was the most free of all Free Marcher states, famed for it's grand festivals and extravagant parties that could put Orlais to shame. With so much revelry and celebrations all year round that could last days or even weeks, the city had gained a wide reputation for being unruly and even debauched, with many of it's neighbors looking down on Wycome's laissez-faire attitude.

But very recently, the city's history, just like the rest of the world, took a turbulent change. The former ruler of Wycome, Duke Antoine, a corrupt Venatori collaborator, sought to infect Wycome with red lyrium and use Clan Lavellan and city's elves as a scapegoat for his crimes. When it was discovered what Duke Antoine's true nature was, a joint operation with the Inquisition's agents and Rajmael's clan, led to an uprising within the city and the duke's death. This act almost led to the destruction of the city and every elf inside when the other Marcher states learned that an elven uprising led to the overthrowing of the nobility and the death of the duke and marched on the city, but thanks to Rajmael sending Inquisition forces to protect the city, he was able to deter the other cities from attacking and able to establish peace and order back to the region.

Now Wycome was famous for being the only city in all of Thedas to be led by elves. Keeper Deshana sat on the newly formed city council led by her, the hahren of the Wycome alienage and the leader of the local trader's guild who also happened to be an elf, but they would govern over all the citizens of Wycome equally and fairly. Wycome was now the only place aside from Ostagar where the Dalish had found land to settle on and live in peace. And after everything Rajmael's clan had been through, it was well deserved.

The red lyrium that had been plaguing the city had been successfully removed, but repairs were still being made thanks to the turmoil and chaos that Wycome had suffered. Thankfully, and much to Rajmael's anxiety, he wasn't here to see the city. Clan Lavellan had set up their encampment just outside the city walls. It was strange to see the land-ships and clan's banners standing so close to a human city. Everyone dismounted their rides and made their way to the camp on foot.

As they got closer to the campsite, Rajmael was surprised to see how busy it was. Dalish and City elves both interacting as friendly neighbors, and even humans were walking around as though this were just another part of the city. It was as if all racial fears and prejudices had been sponged away. And no one seemed to notice one more tattooed elf with a bunch of outsiders accompanying him. Perhaps Rajmael's presence wouldn't cause a scene after all.

Cassandra suddenly heard light footsteps running towards them, at great speed.

"Rajmael!" A familiar voice shouted happily.

Out of nowhere, Eva jumped to her beloved step-father and hugged him around the neck with happy tears on her face. Rajmael was taken completely by surprise and almost overwhelmed by emotion. He wrapped his arms around Eva and held her closely to him, trying his hardest not to shed any tears himself.

"Everyone! Rajmael is home! He's finally home!" Eva cried joyously.

Every Dalish elf in the camp stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Eva hugging her own step-father. A wave of welcome and joy washed over all of them and they approached their prodigal son to bid him welcome. Not as the Inquisitor and not as the Herald of Andraste, but as a son and brother of Clan Lavellan returned home.

"Rajmael? Rajmael is home!"

"The Keeper will be delighted."

"Welcome home, lethallin."

"We are so proud of you, da'len."

"You've done right by our people, Rajmael."

"Surely the Creators have blessed you and all that you've done."

Their welcome was as comforting as it was sincere. Rajmael felt a sense of relieving joy well up inside and allowed himself to shed one happy tear. In all the time he had been with the Inquisition, one of Rajmael's greatest fear was that he would no longer be welcomed amongst his people again as a Dalish elf. But Clan Lavellan didn't see the Herald of Andraste or even the Inquisitor, but as a wayward son that finally returned where he belonged. And Rajmael felt his one of his greatest fears finally melt away.

"They are all alive, they are all here. And they still see and care for him like one of their own, because he is one of them." Cole whispered. "He is happy because he is home."

A pair of elves, a husband and wife, carrying a newborn baby approached their returned comrade, with bright smiles on their face. Rajmael recognized them immediately.

"Welcome home, Rajmael. The clan as missed you sorely." The husband welcomed happily.

"Your mother and father will be overjoyed." The wife added smilingly.

"Sorrin! Nehari! You two have been busy while I've been gone." Rajmael chuckled at the cooing baby in Nehari's arms.

"This is our son, Vahel. He is born just one moon ago." Nehari smiled as she gently rocked her baby in her arms.

"Has the Keeper blessed him yet?"

"We were going to have her do it this week, but now that you're here, we want you to do it." Sorrin answered.

"Me?"

"Yes." Nehari insisted with great enthusiasm. "Rajmael, our son will grow up having a real home. We can raise our son in a place where he won't have to know the same hardships or fears we did, our entire clan will. And we all owe that to you. We would be honored for you to bless our baby." Nehari gently raised her son up to Rajmael, and at the sight of the young infant smiling in his mother's hands, how could he refuse.

A smile pride brighter than any Cassandra had seen in any of their victories beamed across Rajmael's face. For him, this was a greater honor than when Empress Celene gave him thanks. Rajmael placed his hand over the infant child, who playfully grabbed his fingers. "Vahel,Dalen tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enansal Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen. May your life be long, your fortunes many and your hardships few. Walk well in the paths our Creators left for us, and bring blessings to our people, as your parents have blessed you."

The infant Vahel laughed happily as though he knew the significance of what Rajmael's words meant. A smile beamed across Nehari's face and she gratefully kissed Rajmael's cheek. "Thank you so much, Rajmael."

"We'll make sure our son knows what you did for him." Sorrin promised.

"Rajmael, you have to come see the Keeper, she'll want to know you're back." Eva tugged Rajmael's sleeve excitedly. She grabbed her step-father's hand and pulled him, giving the older elf no choice but follow. The Inquisitor's company followed the two elves as Eva dragged Rajmael outside the camp to an open field just outside the city walls.

A trio of elves were standing before what looked like a recently ploughed field. Two were bare-faced city elves, one was obviously Dalish. One of the two city elves was an older man wearing a simple jerkin. Deep smile lines trenched his face and he had kindly eyes with rough hands that had seen much work. The other city elf was a younger man in his thirties at least. He wore a well made cotton shirt and vest with detailed embroidery; he seemed more like a clerk than a laborer. He had a concerned look on his slim face and, like Josephine, he held a quill and clipboard that seemed to never leave his grasp.

The final and oldest of all three was a Dalish woman who looked old enough to have been born in the last age. Unlike her compatriots who wore woven cotton and cloth, her clothing was made of leather and fur from hunted animals to weather the harsh conditions of nature. Despite her weather worn features and weary hands, she had aged well, like many elves. No major wrinkles along her face like many her age, and her frame was firm and strong not decrepit. The tattoos on her face had were no longer vibrant but still showed proudly on her feline face. In her hand she held a staff as old and gnarled as an oak tree with an amber crystal set at the top. And perched on the very end of her staff was the same white owl that had visited Skyhold just last night. The only odd thing about her was, unlike the other two, she wasn't looking at the field, but it was more like she gazing beyond it, as if it wasn't even there.

"Eva, who are those two?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"The older one is Legan, the hahren of the Wycome Alienage." Eva whispered into Rajmael's ear. "And the other one is Cylan, head of the Trader's Guild. They sit on the Wycome City Council with her."

All three of them were looking at the bare field as though they were inspecting it, but it was too late in the year to be planting crops. In a few weeks the season would turn and the seeds they had sown would be ruined. The old Dalish elf stood before the field and held her arms out to it, reciting ancient elven words that none her compatriots could understand, her eyes glowing the same way Rajmael's did. The two elves and most of Rajmael's companions watched in awed amazement as the seeds in the ground began to emerge from the ground right before their very eyes. As if the plants were obeying her unknown words, the seeds turned into saplings and then strong stalks that looked almost ready to harvest. What should have taken months happened in moments and soon the entire field was turned into a crop of golden wheat almost ready to be harvested.

The two city elves were so astonished by these incredible feat that they just stood there in awed silence with their jaws hanging open, and the clipboard falling out of the elf's hands. Then their dumbstruck silence turned into an amazed applaud. Never before had anyone here seen such a feat accomplished even with magic. Even Vivienne seemed impressed.

"Milady, this is truly a magnificent thing you've accomplished." Legan praised. "I don't where we would do without you and your clan."

"Indeed. After Duke Antoine tried to poison the city with that awful red lyrium, most of the crops and food stores we had were ruined. And with the increased numbers from the clan settling here, I was afraid there would be starvation." Cylan added smilingly. "You've just saved a lot of mouths from going hungry this winter."

"Be sure to have the farmers ready to tend to it." The old Dalish elf informed. "It's still needs a few weeks to fully ripen before, and it must be ready to be harvested before the season turns."

"Keeper, look whose here!" Eva called happily.

The old Dalish elf's ears perked and tilted her head towards Eva's voice. "But enough of that for now, my friends. It seems I have a guest."

The two city elves turned to bowed respectfully to the Dalish elder and made their leave. The Keeper leaned on her staff as she walked forward and held out her hand as though she were trying to feel some invisible object. And her face looked forward, but she wasn't even looking at Rajmael.

Deshana stopped right in front of her former first and placed her shaking hands on his face as though to feel see his face with her hands, with tears streaming her face. "Andar'an atish'an, da'lan. Welcome home."

Rajmael felt his own tears welling in his eyes at the sight of his teacher, and why she wasn't looking at him. Her once smoky green eyes that once shined with decades of care and experience were now milky pale and glazed over with emptiness staring blankly forward. She had been rendered blind. "Keeper Deshana, what...what happened to your eyes?"

"That's the first thing you notice? No 'Hello, Keeper. How have you been?'." The Keeper joked evasively. "During the fighting with Duke Antoine and his Venatori allies, I was blinded in the fighting while protecting some of our city elven kin. A pair of old eyes was a small price to pay for the safety of our clan. I have Tylluan to act as my eyes now." Tylluan fluttered his wings and shrieked twice at the Keeper from atop her staff. "And I see you have brought guests. So to speak."

Rajmael shook his head and regained his composure before turning towards his companions. "Indeed, Keeper. Everyone, this is Deshana Istimaethoriel Lavellan, Keeper of Clan Lavellan and my former teacher."

"I see living in the world of the shemlen has taught you to be cordial, da'len." The Keeper chuckled.

"Rajmael? Cordial? Are you talking about the same elf we know?" Varric asked disbelievingly.

"I'm not sure those words even belong in the same sentence." Iron Bull added.

"If he's cordial, then I'm an Antivan Crow." Dorian chuckled.

"Are we sure we've got the right elfy elves?' Sera whispered.

Solas chuckled lightly. "It would seem you're familiar with an entirely different Rajmael than the one we know."

"Keeper, I received your message. Where is Junnarel?" Rajmael asked urgently ignoring his companions' comments.

"He is being tended to by your mother, Rajmael. You should be able to see him soon." Keeper Deshana answered softly.

"Your message said he's dying. What's wrong with him?"

"It...it would be best to see for yourself, da'len." The Keeper's face and voice became morose. "I will not lie to you, Rajmael, I wish your reunion with our clan could have been under better circumstances. I felt you deserved to know what was happening. But was it wise for you to come here?"

"Junnarel brought me to the clan, Deshana. I should be here for when he makes the Journey." Rajmael determined.

"Creators know that you at least deserve that much." The Keeper agreed. "Your mother will come find us when she is done tending to him. I am about to begin the young ones' lessons, and it would please me greatly if you and your companions could join us. "

~XoXoXo~

Keeper Deshana and Rajmael walked the campsite with the same familiarity as a home, while everyone else tried to show respect as guests. Most of them kept quiet or let their eyes wander around the camp, as none of them, except for Varric and maybe Solas, had ever seen a Dalish camp. Solas looked upon the elves here with a dignified respect, while Vivienne looked at their host as though the Keeper were a quaint curiosity. Sera shifted and twitched uncomfortably around all this "elfy-ness". Varric was watching after Cole who curiously looked at every object the elves had around the camp. Dorian was just being Dorian. And Iron Bull was ignoring the fact that all the elves were staring at his horns, but secretly reveling in the attention he was getting.

Varric wasn't unused to being around Dalish elves. In fact, it was fair to say that he was more comfortable around them than most after spending years with Daisy and living so close to Clan Sabrae. Everyone liked to think that the Dalish elves were these wild, uninhibited savages, or that they were these romantic rebels who defying human indifference by talking to spirits and dancing naked under the moonlight. But from what Varric had seen, the Dalish were like everyone else: just people, with all the ups and downs that came with that. He definitely liked Dalish elves better than Orzammar dwarves. At least Dalish elves looked after their own, for the most part. Clan Sabrae was willing to risk the wrath of the Templars to protect Feynriel, a half-blooded apostate, yet were so deathly afraid and angry with Daisy. He didn't get it, but people are always people. Rajmael's clan seemed like the good kind of people, at least.

Iron Bull was not unused to being around elves. Most Qunari converts were originally elves, and they were often deployed as spies and intelligence gatherers. Under the Qun, they were taught that elves lived in squalor because of human ignorance and are never given the chance to contribute. What Iron Bull had seen throughout Southern Thedas only proved this belief correct. But these Dalish Elves were different. Unlike many City Elves who sat in squalor and poverty, every elf in Clan Lavellan moved with a sense of purpose. There was no idleness here. Every elf in the camp was working, everyone had a role to play, a job to do and they were doing it to the utmost of their capability whether it was crafting, repairing or training. They didn't need to be ordered or instructed, they all moved with the purpose and intention of a trained group. In this respect, it was much like a military camp that could put half the soldiers in Skyhold to shame. But everyone smiled, everyone laughed, spoke and interacted with one another as friends and family. It was almost like how he lived with the Tamassrans, yet at the same time it was not.

Blackwall's father was a carpenter. He built furniture and utilities, not fortresses or castles. It was humble work but it put bread on the table. He taught Blackwall a little bit of the trade and he would make small toys, like the little project he had back at Skyhold, to entertain his sister, but he was never truly interested in taking up the trade and was more concerned with learning how to fight than anything else. These Dalish elves put anything his father made to utter shame. Everything these elves made, their weapons, furniture, even their very tools were made of wood, and they were made with such masterful skill. Blackwall would like to see all those fancy craftsman back in Orlais try to build have as well as these people. Blackwall had to respect the Dalish. The world has almost always been against them, yet despite the odds and hardships they face everyday, they thrive. Such strength had to be admired, just like the works they make. Blackwall would dare any fancy Chevalier in Orlais to face what these people go through every day and see how far they get.

Cassandra had to admit that she felt incredibly out of place here, even though not all that long ago she was in the Free Marches during vain search for Hawke. Never before had she found herself surrounded by so many elves. It shamed her to realize how little she had ever given the elves much consideration as a whole; she was always too busy with her duties to the Chantry, and by extension, the mages, to ever consider anything else. The only time she had begun to see what the elves truly go through was when she began her relationship with Rajmael, and it was only then that she began to realize how truly blind she had been her whole life.

Unlike the elves she had encountered in the cities, who always seemed to be walking on egg shells and had an air of timidity about them brought upon by years of living under the indifference and abuse of human society, the Dalish elves walked with a sense of pride and dignity in their step, as though to declare that they didn't care what others thought of them. Even Keeper Deshana, blind as she was, walked with a grace and pride that many noblewomen lacked. Cassandra could now see where Rajmael's sense of pride came from, and she couldn't blame it. Every elf here was free, not subjugated to the cruelty that many elves in the city suffered every day at the hands of bigoted and ignorant humans. Every elf here was their own master, just as Thane Shartan had wanted, and they were ready to defend that. No wonder Nethras fought so hard to topple Orlais.

Cassandra shuddered and felt her thoughts turn inward at the mere memory of Nethras Lavellan, Rajmael's brother who so passionately and so viciously wanted to destroy the humans with the power he acquired within the ancient elven temples he discovered. These people refused to let their identity be stripped from them by anyone. And the one entity that tried to do that the most, that robbed Ramael of his childhood and his parents, and drove Nethras to become a genocidal fanatic was always the Chantry. Even now, Cassandra could feel some of these elves glaring hatefully at her and noticed mothers whispering to their children to stay away for what a servant of the Chantry might do to them. And after what Cassandra had seen and experienced with Rajmael, she couldn't blame them. After all, the Chantry had done very little to generate good will to anyone born outside human society. Perhaps with Rajmael leading the Inquisition and granting his clan a permanent place and political standing with Wycome, his people would finally get the recognition they deserve, and the Chantry could finally make amends as it is doing with the mages.

A small group of children gathered around the Keeper as though they were waiting for something from her. Cassandra saw Eva amongst them, her bright green eyes sparkling. After seeing the image of Evanura in the Fade, it was incredible how much Eva looked like her mother and was every bit as beautiful.

"Please, excuse me for a moment for a moment." The blind Keeper requested. "It's is time for the children's lessons."

Despite her handicap, Deshana walked over to each child waiting for her and placed a seed in their hands. Each sat down on the ground and eagerly awaited their teacher's lesson. Rajmael watched the familiar sight for the first time as a spectator and not a participant.

"In the time of Arlathan, we elves were immortal, and every member of our race possessed the gift of magic." Deshana started softly. "But when we lost our immortality, many of us lost the ability to use magic, making the gift infinitely more precious. We pass on the knowledge our ancestors left for us that we may one day resurrect a land of our own and teach our descendants these truths. Magic is not a weapon, a tool, or an instrument. Magic is life, and extension of ourselves, our will and intention, no different than your own hands or hearts. And just like our bodies, we must train our magic to be strong so that it will not wither. Do you understand, little ones?"

"Yes, Keeper." The children answered in unison.

"Very good. Now breath...focus your magic, your will on the seeds in your hands. Let your magic connect with the life force of nature." Deshana instructed mystically. "Your will, your magic, one with the seed."

The Inquisitor's companions watched in amazement as all five elven children held the seeds in their hands and made them blossom into magnificent blue roses, just like how Keeper Deshana made that wheat field grow. Each child held the same kind of blue rose that Rajmael always grew when he made his prayers.

Even in the Circle, Cassandra had never seen such a beautiful display of magic, and these children performed it so magnificently. Cassandra had never realized how different magic was with the elves, how they treat it as a gift, whereas as the Circle Mages always treated their magic as tool, a weapon, or burden. Cassandra could see now that this acceptance of what they are is what brought Dalish a sense peace that separated them from any other mage she had encountered. If only so many other mages could learn to feel the same and be better for it.

Dorian had never seen much elven magic before his time with the Inquisition. The mages of Tevinter either scoff at it as some weak power of a broken people worthy only of the lowest of slaves, or they simply ignore its existence. However, during a conversation he had with Solas about Tevinter magic techniques, Dorian was surprised to learn that some of the techniques he was using were actually elven in origin. He was surprised, but he shouldn't have been. Tevinter was built on what they stole from the elves when they conquered Arlathan, and then used the blood of elven slaves to build their vast empire. Far too many of his countrymen took that part of their history as badge of pride, how they destroyed the mighty elven people, reduced them to slaves and erased their history to show the whole world the might of the Imperium. But that's not what Dorian was feeling now. He looked at these people and saw how much they valued and cared for each other, how they looked after one another, and remembered how everyone in Tevinter, Altus, Soporati, Magister, even the slaves all conspired to over throw one another, even their own kin. And now Tevinter was a crumbling ruin of what it was, whereas the elves, beaten down as they are, continued to rely on each other and make themselves strong. If only Tevinter were capable of learning anything from the elves without enslaving them.

With their lesson complete, each child gave their flower to the Keeper and ran off laughing to go and play. Eva ran over to Rajmael and gave him the rose she had made to blossom.

"Look, Rajmael, I did it!" Eva giggled, more happy that her stepfather was there to witness what she'd done than actually doing it.

Rajmael held the rose in his hand gently and hugged Eva with deep affection. "Well done da'vhenan. Perhaps you're meant for the Vir Atish'an, just like your mother."

"But the Vir Atish'an is so boring! And Mama was a better swordfighter than a healer." Eva pouted. "I want to follow the Dirth'ena Enasalin!"

Rajmael cringed apprehensively. "Just don't let your grandmother hear you say that. The last thing I need is her yelling at me about why her granddaughter has bruises from training."

Cassandra smiled at the sight of Rajmael being so close to Eva. She had never seen him so happy. She looked at the Keeper, and despite being blind, noticed that she was smiling at the two younger elves as well. While Rajmael was reconnecting with his daughter, she decided to talk to the Keeper she had hear so much about. "So you're Keeper Deshana. Rajmael speaks of you often and quite fondly."

"Does he now? How very like him to not say it to my face." The Keeper laughed. "What does he say about me so fondly? I doubt I'll ever get a chance to hear it again."

"He's always talking about how well you have guided your clan for many years, and how no one else's magic can compare to yours." Cassandra answered honestly. "And after what I saw with the wheat field, I see he wasn't exaggerating."

"Indeed, but is it not dangerous for your clan to have so many mages?" Vivienne inquired. "I thought a Dalish clan could only have two or three at a time?"

"Yes, that is true. It has always been too dangerous to have too many mages at once for fear of attracting too much attention or being able to properly train so many. But now that we have land of our own, and now Templars to threaten us, we don't need to send our children away for fear of what could happen, or attracting unwanted attention." The Keeper explained.

"I gotta admit, that was pretty damned cool. Are you the one who taught him how to kick so much ass with that magic of his?" Iron Bull asked deeply intrigued.

"Junnarel showed him the way. I how him how to take the steps, but he walked the path on his own." Deshana answered elliptically. "And he has walked the path valiantly."

"Can, uh, can you repeat that pleased?" Varric asked.

"I swear, she just spoke exactly like Cole." Blackwall grumbled.

"She told the answer, you just need to know how to listen." Cole said earnestly.

"So you taught him, or he taught himself?" Dorian asked rather confused.

"Junnarel showed him the way. I how him how to take the steps, but he walked the path on his own." Deshana answered elliptically. "And he has walked the path valiantly."

"Can, uh, can you repeat that pleased?" Varric asked.

"I swear, she just spoke exactly like Cole." Blackwall grumbled.

"She told the answer, you just need to know how to listen." Cole said earnestly.

"So you taught him, or he taught himself?" Dorian asked rather confused.

Deshana couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "The knowledge my clan has protected is the wisdom to manipulate and harness magic both externally and internally, how to connect and channel our will with the world around us. For most of us, like me, for example, learn how to weave our magic with our surroundings, like how to make plants grow, or reconstruct objects. But mages like the Arcane Warriors, like Rajmael, learn how to focus their magic internally to increase their physically capabilities, become one with the Fade, and as you've no doubt seen, channel their power through their weapons. They do not use magic to bend to world to his will. He wields his magic to reinforce his physical abilities, using mana to drive him instead of stamina. It is a path where strength and wisdom come together to make his will into reality. This knowledge has been passed to us through our ancient training manuals we've saved, and the sword Rajmael wields, the Vir Enasalin."

"A truly...elvhen method of wielding magic, one worth preserving." Solas said with approval, a small smile on his face. "And certainly more impressive than just throwing a fireball."

"I must admit, your magic sounds most impressive, many Altus back home would sell their mothers for such lessons." Dorian added.

Vivienne nodded her head in agreement. "Indeed. The mages in the Circles could learn from such discipline."

"As Keeper to my clan, my duty is to pass this knowledge on to our young, as well as our history and stories in the hopes of restoring our people." Deshana continued.

"Great, yeah? Teaching creepy magic and complaining about a bunch of dead elfy-elves and how unfair the world is." Sera said with disrespectful indifference.

Deshana's blind eyes turned cryptically to Sera as Tylluan with a neutral look on her face. Tylluan flew off the Keeper's staff and flew over Sera, dropping an almost impressive amount of feces right on her head.

"Ewww! Flying rodent shit-bag! Ugh!" Sera cursed violently, the white owl droppings sliding down her hair and on to her face. Vivienne, Dorian, Varric , Iron Bull and even Cole couldn't help but laugh.

"One lesson I try to teach the young and ignorant, young lady: Never speak insults while you're someone else's guest. A lesson Rajmael didn't learn very well, either." Deshana chastised while Tylluan flew back on the end of her staff.

"Stupid, elfy, shitfaced, whining, shoeless, bird-loving, smells-like-halla-shit prigs! Go take your elven glory and stick it in your taint with some arrows, you elf-shitters..." Sera swore under her breath as she strutted off angrily, trying to get the bird crap out her hair and off her face. She was so distracted by the bird-shit and her own anger, that she didn't even see the angry fist flying right at her face.

The fist connected to Sera's face with a loud crack right in her jaw, with enough force and speed to make Iron Bull cringe, and Sera went down like a sack full of anvils right into the dirt. Judging from the impact of the hit, Varric guessed Sera probably had a concussion the size of an apple now. Everyone turned their eyes to the Dalish woman standing over Sera's unconscious body with a balled fist and a really pissed off look on her face.

"There's also a Fereldan saying I'm quite fond off: 'Talk shit, get hit', you flat-eared bitch." Seethed the older elven woman. She looked at the group of strangers standing with the Keeper with a look of surprise and outrage. Most of them, with the exception of the knocked out Sera, couldn't shake the feeling that there was something oddly familiar about this woman. Not just her apparent anger, it was like they had seen her bluish-black hair and piercing blue eyes before somewhere, and it made them feel threatened.

"Keeper, who are these strangers that you would so carelessly explain our clans knowledge and treasures to?" Sera's assailant demanded.

"These are our guests, and I'm sure they have honest faces." The Keeper answered innocently. "Don't they? I'm blind now, remember? So I can't really tell."

The other elven woman looked at these supposed guests with the shock and disbelief meant for visiting a freakshow. "Truly, blindness has robbed you of more than just your sight. Who could be here that you would entertain shems who bring along such a disrespectful and idiotic City Elf?"

Deshana tilted her head curiously. "Oh? I'm sorry, I suppose you haven't heard yet, have you?"

"Heard what...?" The woman's face went from outraged to shock, like she had seen a ghost as Rajmael walked back over to them holding Eva's hand. A stunned look came over the Inquisitor as he saw her, as well. "Rajmael? Is it truly you?" Ariva's hands gently caressed Rajmael's face as though to confirm that the man was truly standing before her not a conjuration of her own maternal heartache. Upon realizing that this was truly Rajmael in the flesh, Ariva hugged herself to the Inquisitor, quiet sobs racking her body. "It is you. My second son has come has come home at last..."

Rajmael and Eva hugged their only maternal figure close in an attempt to comfort her, knowing the pain she was going through right now.

"Everyone, this is my mother and our clan's healer, Ariva." Rajmael finally introduced. "I can see Sera has already met her, judging from the fact that she's taking a nap in the dirt with a fist-shaped bruise on her face and bird shit in her hair."

Now everyone realized why they felt so uneasy with this woman. Her piercing blue eyes and bluish-black tied into a tight ponytail, and that streak of viciousness that went a mile long. She was Nethras' mother. Suddenly, a lot of things about Rajmael were beginning to make sense to them.

Ariva wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to maintain her composure. She hated showing any kind of weakness in front of anyone, especially her own children. "Rajmael, what...what are you doing here? I thought you were...?"

"Keeper Deshana sent me a message about what was happening. I had to come back here." Rajmael answered. "What's wrong with Junnarel? Can you...?"

Ariva shook her head tearfully. "No. I am afraid that what he's suffering from is beyond my skill to heal. It may take a few more days or few more hours, but it will be soon. I can't...all I can do is make him comfortable." The elven healer fought the tears in her eyes as best as she could. "Rajmael...it will bring my husband immeasurable joy to see you before Falon'din calls him for the Journey."

Rajmael swallowed the burning lump of guilt in his throat. "Ariva, I...I don't know if my being here will bring any peace. The things I've seen, what I've done. I fear that it will only bring more pain, pain neither of you deserve."

Ariva cusped her hand to Rajmael's face once more and made him look her in the eye. "Rajmael, you are just as much our son as Nethras was. There is nothing you could say that will ever change that. And Junnarel would relieve of your burden in his final hours if it would bring peace to the rest of your life. Now go. See your father, and make your peace."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael did as his adopted mother bade and made his way to the lead hunter's tent. It was always easy to find because of the wooden carving of Andruil over the entry way situated above a bleached white skull of a bull wyvern that Junnarel killed in his youth. Nostalgia poured over Rajmael like rain when he realized how long it felt like since he had seen this home of his childhood and adolescent years. All the memories in this tent he shared with his adopted family, all the time, laughs and tears he had with Nethras and Evanura, the lessons his parents taught him. It was almost overwhelming to back under such circumstances.

After taking a moment to work up his courage, Rajmael finally stepped inside the home of his younger years where he was raised. It was just as he remembered it, as it had always been. The pelts, the trinkets hanging from the roof, even the smells of incense and smoke that filled the air. And laying on a bed of furs and straw was the man Rajmael had come all the way from the Frostback Mountains to see. The Inquisitor walked quietly over to him.

"Junnarel? Junnarel, I...oh, no. No..." Rajmael's feelings of nostalgia were quickly slain by grief and dread as he looked upon the once mighty hunter resting in front of him. Now he knew why the Keeper refused to tell him what had stricken Junnarel, why a healer as skilled as Ariva couldn't save. Junnarel had been poisoned by the accursed red lyrium.

~XoXoXo~

As soon as Rajmael had left to go see her husband, Ariva turned a criticizing eye to her son's companions, especially Cassandra. It was the same look Nethras gave her when he discovered the relationship between her and Rajmael.

"You, Chantry shem, come closer." Ariva demanded.

"Why?" Cassandra asked defiantly.

"I wish to know the character of the woman my foolish second son has carelessly gave his heart to." The intensity of Ariva's voice was enough to shame any military officer's. "I want to know why he would choose a Chantry servant whose sworn duty is to keep mages on their knees, no different than the Templars who stole my son Nethras and his wife Evanura from my granddaughter."

"How...how do you know about us?" Casssandra asked taken aback.

"Call it the intuition of a woman whose been married for thirty-two years." Ariva answered harshly. "And besides, my granddaughter likes to talk. A lot."

Eva inched herself behind the Keeper with a guilty blush on her face, looking at Cassandra apologetically. "Sorry, Cassandra."

"Eva, perhaps you should leave while your elders speak." Deshana suggested. Eva obeyed and left to go play with the other children.

"And just who are you to make demands of anyone, let alone an esteemed Seeker and ranking member of the Inquisition?" Vivienne scoffed.

A bolt of lightning flew from Ariva's fingertips, revealing her to be a mage, and almost nailed Vivienne right in the face. "I wasn't talking to you. Say another word to me, and I'll put you in the dirt right next to flat-ear and get one of our halla to shit in your mouth." Everyone took two steps away from Vivienne, not wanting to get in Ariva's way.

"You'll have to forgive Ariva's temper. She's sort of the mother bear of our clan, fearsome and a touch overprotective." Keeper Deshana explained sympathetically. "And given what has happened to her family, I must ask for your understanding and patience."

"Now, Seeker, come closer." Ariva demanded once more turning her attention back to the Seeker.

Cassandra sighed in defeat. She knew for a fact that if anyone from the Pentaghast Family knew that she, one of their most prominent members, was romantically involved with a Dalish elf, they would probably have an aneurism. So she wasn't surprised that Rajmael's stepmother wasn't happy to know her son was courting a Chantry Seeker, and considering what the Chantry had done to Rajmael and his family, Cassandra couldn't blame Ariva. The difference was Cassandra didn't really care for the opulent self-indulgence and indolence of her oversized and extended family, whereas Rajmael deeply cared about his family and clan. So for his sake, Cassandra would indulge Ariva.

Cassandra stood before Ariva. She stared at the ground to avoid the elf's piercing eyes.

"Look me in the eyes, young lady." Ariva demanded, Cassandra obliged. The elven healer's piercing blue eyes scanned and studied Cassandra's face. The intensity of her gaze felt like she was looking straight into Cassandra's being. Her eyes stopped and looked right into Cassandra's with a deathly serious in them. "Now, tell me honestly, because I'll know if you're lying to me: why would you, a servant of the Chantry, even think to love a Dalish elf, and a mage to boot, who has every right to hate your beloved Chantry for all the crimes its committed? Is this some tactic to lure him from his heathen ways? Or do you think that by bedding the so-called 'Herald of Andraste' that you somehow bring yourself closer to the god that abandoned you?"

"No. That isn't it at all." Cassandra denied passionately.

"Then why? What makes him so special that a human royal with her pick of all the most powerful rich humans that take up too much space as it is, would choose a penniless heathen knife-ear from the woods when the only thing elves have ever had is suffering and pain?!" Ariva pressed vehemently.

There was an intensity in the air around the Seeker of Truth and the Dalish Healer, and the others were worried that there might be a fatality between the two any second. Judging from Cassandra's balled fist and Ariva's demanding attitude, this might come to a head.

Cassandra could feel her anger starting to rise. Ever since she became a Seeker, no one, not even the Divine, made such demands of her without not being introduced to her own temper. But she relented. She would not let her temper rule her, nor would she show weakness to Rajmael's mother. "Because...he is the best man I have ever met. In all my time serving the Chantry, and all the noble suitors my uncle threw at me, I have never met a man like Rajmael. He is wise and passionate, with a sense of honor and piety that could shame most knights and priests I have met. And I never thought it possible, but he makes me laugh. Makes me joy I never knew existed. I love him because...he's the best man."

Ariva never took her eyes off Cassandra. But intensity and criticism that burned there melted away, and filled with comforting welcome. "He is the best of men, like his father taught him to be. Ever since Evanura died, I didn't think he would a woman in all the world for him to love the way he did her. I am pleased I was wrong." Ariva lowered her head apologetically to Cassandra. "Please, forgive my anger and harsh words, but Rajmael is the only son I have left and I needed to be sure what he feels is real."

"No apologies are necessary, milady." Cassandra said understandingly. "I too know what it means to lose family. I understand."

"Please, I would be honored if you could meet my husband. It would bring him so much happiness to meet the woman our son loves before he dies." Ariva pleaded.

"I...I would be honored to do, milady." Cassandra smiled.

"Please, call me Ariva."

~XoXoXo~

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ariva and Cassandra both walked away. Having Cassandra around was tough enough, but with Ariva, they all felt like they were walking in the presence of an angry Great Bear. For a moment, they thought someone was going to die. But somehow, Ariva's attitude shouldn't have been surprising.

"Yeah, a lot of things about the Inquisitor are starting to make sense." Varric reaffirmed.

"To actually stare down Cassandra Pentaghast and make a demand of her. I don't know if I should be impressed or scared." Blackwall commented.

"I don't think I've ever seen a woman that scary outside the Tammassrans." Iron Bull added.

"The obvious use of magic, the violent hostilities to guests her son brings home. Get her drunk on Minrathous port, and she'd be an elven replica of my mother." Dorian chuckled. "Except, my mother never took the time to hug me."

"She hurts. Thirty-two years of companionship and care, losing a son and her daughter-in-law. Now she's losing the one man who accepted her and all her faults." Cole informed insightfully. "But she is happy to know the boy she healed and took in as a son is still alive, and has found someone to love him. She is proud of the Inquisitor."

"Ughhh. Did anyone see the battering ram that hit me?" Sera groaned. She staggered to her feet, barely able to stand and probably seeing double after what that hit she took.

"I'm afraid you said the wrong thing with the wrong woman in ear shot, young lady." The Keeper answered chidingly. "And in so doing, you got knocked on your ass."

"Phbbt! No wonder no one likes you elfy elves." Sera blew off. "Bunch'a tits!"

"And now I know why both the Dalish and the shemlen think City Elves are stupid, ignorant, and vulgar. Thank you for proving us right." Deshana chastised.

"Oh, she does make a good point there, Sera, darling. You do set an awful example to others." Vivienne condescended.

"But don't worry, we already knew Orlesians are conceited snobs, too." Deshana said distastefully before turning her attention back to Sera. "Young lady, you cannot just go into to another's home and make insults at their kin, clan and culture, no matter where you go. Because no matter where you go, there's always someone who will take exception, and sometimes they'll take more than you can give."

"Tch. Whatever." Sera scoffed.

"Now, as for the rest of you please, come here. Eva told me all about you when she came back. Let me guess at who you are."

Iron Bull:

Deshana instinctively wrinkled her nose to the Qunari in front of her. "Judging from the smell of liquor, body odor, and uninhibited sex, you must be Iron Bull."

"Hey, that's kind of hurtful, you know?" Iron Bull said with faux offense.

"Being hurtful doesn't make it any less true, so maybe take a bath more often. Your enemies should see you coming because of your horns, not your stench." Deshana reached into her robes and held out a fistful of herbs. "Here, bathe with these, and I promise you'll smell like a new oxman, without the ox smell."

Iron Bull sniffed the dried herbs. "Ooh! These smell refreshing."

Dorian:

"Hmm. A vibrant red aura, mixed with shade of necromancy. You must be that Tevinter Eva told me about." Deshana said almost glumly. "Never thought I'd extend a welcome to a Magister."

"Well, if it makes it any better, I am not a magister. I just happen to be a mage from Tevinter." Dorian explained.

The Keeper chuckled jokingly. "Is that so? Well, all you shems look the same to me nowadays."

"Oh, trust me, madam, if your eyes were functioning, you wouldn't believe them if you saw me." Dorian played along. "You wouldn't find a set of teeth of cheekbones like mine in all of Thedas."

"I doubt it. I probably wouldn't be able to see through your ego." The elven mage finished.

Vivienne:

"Ah. The smell of perfume, vanity and deception. You must be that Orlesian Circle mage Eva spoke of so fondly." Deshana remembered sarcastically. "How's your nose?"

"Quite well, thank you." Vivienne spoke with her dispassionate sincerity. "And it is properly, Madam Vivienne, Official..."

"I really don't actually care!" Deshana interrupted. "Your title impresses me less than what passes for magic."

"I assure you, Circle magic is quite formidable and highly civilized. And learning in a Circle Tower is certainly more impressive than practicing in the woods." Vivienne countered.

"Practicing in the woods like an apostate, you mean." Deshana surmised. "You think with your soft hands and scented skin that you know what true magic is? And in your arrogance, you actually believe that you do. But elvhen magic, Rajmael's magic, far outstrips yours or anything in the Circle. But you know this already, don't you? Your just won't admit it."

Cole:

Deshana furrowed her brow in confusion. "What is this? I feel the aura that could only belong to a spirit, but you walk and appear human?"

"I am human, but I used to be different. A spirit who saw more, and wanted to be more." Cole answered.

"A spirit so complete with it's nature, so willing to give this world, even undeserving as it is, you made yourself mortal to help." Deshana marveled. "Even blinded as I am, I never thought I'd see such a thing."

Blackwall:

"You walk the weary but disciplined footsteps of a man trained for war, but there is pain in your steps. A burden you have carried, but have learned to let go. That is why you fight with renewed vigor." Deshana sensed about Blackwall.

"How do you...I guess I shouldn't be surprised by mages anymore." Blackwall sighed. "Yes. What you say is true. And to tell the truth, it was the Inquisitor who helped me lay my burden down. Gave me a second chance when I didn't deserve it."

"A second chance is something many want but never receive. Do not squander it should you live past your sword duty."

"Don't worry about that. Rajmael gave me my life back when I surrendered it, and I intend to make sure I do something good with it." Blackwall promised.

Varric:

"So you're the famous Keeper Deshana the Inquisitor is always talking about. Nice to finally meet you." Varric chuckled.

"And you must be the famous Varric Tethras Rajmael used to always never shut up about. Good to meet you." Deshana returned. "Eva talked up a storm about you when she returned to the clan."

"I gotta admit, your clan is a lot different than the last one I saw in Kirkwall, clan Sabrae." Varric stated. He remembered vividly what Merrill's clan was like.

"Ah, yes. Keeper Marethari's clan. They are good people, but sadly very credulous." Deshana sighed. "Marethari should have let her First walk her own path and looked after the rest of her clan, for good or ill. That is the point of growing up."

"I guess you'd know a lot about that." Varric guessed.

"I've watched over four generations of this clan, Master Tethras. I've seen good decisions with terrible outcomes and great things born out of hardship. Yes. It is something I am familiar with."

"Hey, I'm thinking about using Wycome in my next book. You mind if I base one of my character off of you?" Varric asked.

"Oh, of course you can. What better way for the elves here to finally get some good publicity.

Solas:

"Ah. I another one of the People travels with my former First." Deshana welcomed. "You are Solas, I take it?"

"I am, hahren, though I am not Dalish. I am merely an apostate that happens to be Somniari." Solas humbly clarified.

"You're name means Pride, yet you are not proud of being blessed such a powerful gift?"

"I have yet to accomplish anything worthy of being proud of." Solas admitted.

"Truly? Tell me then, since you've probably seen so much in the Fade, what do you think of Rajmael? As a lead and a mage?"

"As one who follows the Dirth'ena enasalin, from what I have seen in the Fade, he does their memory great honor. And as for his leadership...there have been very few people in all of history that have done as well as he did. The wisdom and strength by which he leads does credit to all elves." Solas confessed honestly. "And he takes great pride in being an elf."

"That is wonderful to hear. Our clan is very proud of him. I am glad to know one of the People walks with Rajmael, even if you do not consider yourself to be one."

~XoXoXo~

"Am I dreaming in the Fade? Rajmael? Mythal'enaste, is that you?" Junnarel happily asked, his voice distorted and weak from the red lyrium poisoning.

"Yes. Yes, it's me, Junnarel."

Despair and anguish filled Rajmael as he looked down at Junnarel, barely able to recognize him. Rajmael remembered a mighty hunter whose very presence commanded respect, and always stood tall amongst his fellow elves, but was always kind and wise. He wore the vallaslin that gave honor to Mythal the Great Protector, as he gave protection to his clan. The man who guided him to the path of the Dirth'ena Enasalin and raised him like a son alongside Nethras and taught them the ways of honor and combat. And Rajmael was always surprised about how much Nethras looked almost exactly like his father, save for his mother's hair and eyes.

But this was not the same Junnarel he remembered. This was not the same man that pulled Rajmael out of the flames all those years ago. He was a withered husk of a man being drained of life with that sickly red glow emanating from him thanks to the poisoning of the red lyrium.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, da'len, but what are you doing this far north? Isn't there a world that needs saving?" Junnarel chuckled in spite of the pain he was in.

"Keeper Deshana sent me a message telling me you were ill. I had to come back here." Rajmael explained.

"You should have stayed in the South where you can do the most good. As an Arcane Warrior, you should know better than to let personal feelings derail you from duty." The old hunter chided gently. "But, as the man who took the place of being your father, I am pleased to see you again once more before I make the Journey to the Beyond."

"Junnarel, what...what happened? You are one of the best hunters of all the Dalish clans. Why are you dying of this?" Rajmael begged disbelievingly.

"We elves haven't been immortal for thousands of years, my son. And even the best hunters grow old." Junnarel spoke gently. "When it was discovered that Duke Antoine supported the Venatori, I lead the hunters to sneak into the city to kill him and his cohorts before he could corrupt anymore of the city with his red lyrium and blame the elves. I chased him down to were he was growing the stuff and killed him there. But I must be getting old, I didn't count the right number of guards he had with him, and in the fight I was infected with the red lyrium. I must be old."

"I...I should have been there. I could have helped. Maybe if I was protecting the clan like you and Deshana taught me to, then maybe this wouldn't have happened to you." Rajmael said with guilt.

"Or maybe if you had been here instead of the South, you wouldn't have healed the wound in the sky and the world would be destroyed. I doubt that would have benefitted anyone, especially our clan." Junnarel reasoned kindly. A weak laugh came from his lips as the thought of memory. "Oh, let me tell you boy, when some of our clan-mates heard the humans were calling you 'The Herald of Andraste' they started talking nonsense about how you abandoned our people. Deshana and I told them you'd never do such a thing. Some of them didn't listen, and ended up being patched up by Ariva right after she got done beating the snot out of them."

Rajmael couldn't help but laugh with his father, knowing that sounded exactly what Ariva would do. "Trust me, I wasn't too keen on the epithet, either. You wouldn't believe the looks on those shems' faces when they walk up to me only to find that the Herald of Andraste is a heathen elf from the woods. It was funny at first, but it just get so annoying after a while. Not to mention the Chantry..." A look of seriousness replaced the humor Rajmael felt. There was something he always wanted to ask his stepfather. "Junnarel, there's something I've always wanted to ask you. Amongst our people, we always talk how villainous the Chantry is, what and what I've seen in my travels has only proven us right. I still bare the scars of what it did to me, the Chantry stole Nethras and Evanura from us, left Eva an orphan. How can you not hate them?"

Junnarel sighed deeply and thoughtfully. He knew full well the pain of loss that Rajmael and every elf in the world knew. "I would be lying if I said that I'm not angry for what the humans did to our people and our family. But to live by hate alone is a sad and abhorrent thing that only leads to more pain. Avarice and aggression is a part of human nature. And it is in our nature to endure. The elves may no longer be immortal, but our spirit lives on in our actions and the people we leave behind, da'len. We do not honor our ancestors or our gods by being hateful. Bringing the elves down to the same level as human bigotry and cruelty would only lesson the soul of our people. I taught you and your big brother to be better than that."

Junnarel weakly motioned for Rajmael to hand him his sword. Rajmael did as he was bade, and his father held the Vir Enasalin as though it was as familiar to him as his own hands. "I taught you to wield this sword to uphold our people's honor, just as our ancestors did. The Vir Enasalin isn't just a fancy title to label this sword, but a reminder that victory without honor is meaningless. And to lower ourselves to such a shameful level would disgrace us worse than the humans ever could."

Junnarel's words only made the weight of Rajmael's burden that much heavier. "Junnarel, there's something I..."

Sunlight showed into the tent as someone walked inside. Rajmael was shocked to see it was Ariva bringing Cassandra in with a smile on her face.

"Ah, ma vhenan." Junnarel exclaimed happily. "Who is this you bring into our home?"

ariva smiled to her husband. "Vhenan, this is Cassandra. She is the woman Eva spoke of so fondly. The one Rajmael gave his heart to."

"Is she now? She's lovely! Bringing a woman home to meet your parents Rajmael? Are you planning to settle down so quickly?" Junnarel laughed.

"Please, ser. Stop. You are making me blush." Cassandra had that awkward smile on her face when she was being bashful.

"Please, come in and be welcome." Junnarel invited gregariously. "To find a woman to give his heart to even in the midst of all this chaos. My son must truly be blessed."

"I...truly hope so, ser." Cassandra blushed.

Junnarel coughed painfully and uncontrollably thanks to the red lyrium. Ariva quickly went to her husbands side and administered more medicine and water.

Remembering what he had come here for, and that Junnarel's time was short, Rajmael knew what he needed to do though he was scared to. "Junnarel, Ariva. There...there is something I must tell you. I am afraid to, but you deserve to hear it."

Both parents looked at their adopted son calmly and with care.

"Da'len, I told you that whatever you have to say, Junnarel will hear it to lessen your burden." Ariva reminded.

"Rajmael, you know you can tell us anything." Junnarel assured.

Rajmael swallowed the burning lump in his throat, and a well of guilt sprang up inside him. "I...I killed Nethras!" He finally confessed with a burning tear rolling down his cheek.

Ariva and Junnarel both sat there stunned, staring at Rajmael with shock. "W-what?"

"What are you saying, Rajmael?"

"The Templars never killed Nethras, they merely captured him. The body we found was an apostate they killed. Nethras escaped and committed to the Vir Banal'ras." Rajmael pulled out Nethras' war sickle, the bora'nan, and handed it to Junnarel. "He established a cult following of angry and wronged elves to follow his path in the name of Elgar'nan, and found the lost temple of Nehn'numinas, where all the waters of the world converge. He planned to poison the waters and start a war that would destroy the South with civil turmoil so that he and his followers could reclaim the Dales for our people. His path conflicted with mine, and so we dueled in the sight of the Creators, and in so doing I killed my brother, your son, to save the humans who oppress and abuse our people and denied the elves the chance to reclaim our kingdom."

"Oh. Oh, Nethras..." Ariva sobbed. She buried her face into her hands and wept for her son.

Junnarel stared down at the chained-sickle in his hands, tracing his finger where his son would have held it. "My son...Vir Banal'ras? This sickle was used by my father when he walked that path while I was still young. It got him, my mother and several others of our clan killed, including Deshana's brother. And what did he accomplish? Just a few more dead shems, and even more dead elves that left a hole in our clan's heart. It was why I never looked to vengeance, and it is not a path I wanted either of you to follow." Junnarel lamented bitterly. "But I cannot imagine the pain and rage he must have felt to commit to that path. Without justice, all we are left with is vengeance, and vengeance only leaves us with nothing."

"I...I know what I did cannot be forgiven. I am so sorry. To both of you." Rajmael spoke with anguish.

"If you're so sorry. Then why did you even fight Nethras to begin with?" Ariva sniffled.

"Because he didn't want to rebuild, he wanted to kill. Because, if I didn't, it would have undid everything I am trying to do to save this world. And killing so many in such a manner would have disgraced our people." Rajmael answered honestly.

"You say that his path conflicted with yours? That you fought in the sight of the Creators, and your conviction was stronger?" Junnarel inquired.

"Yes."

"I wish with all my heart that Nethras would have just come home, and he could be here now with his daughter, and this home you've granted us. But such is the way of the Vir Banal'ras. A destructive path created by a treacherous world." Junnarel wept for his son. "But you gave him the chance to redeem his disgrace by fighting in an honorable dual. And I know Nethras, misguided though it was, walked his path well and with pride."

"He did. You would have been proud to have seen him so strong, and the knowledge he recovered." Rajmael confirmed.

"Then there is nothing to forgive." Ariva assured, gently grasping her stepson's hands. "You followed your path with honor, just as he did. You both did right in you own way. We didn't want a kingdom. We wanted our son. Eva wanted her father."

"And Nethras wanted her to be free. To live as an elf without fear of persecution and hate. To never suffer as we have suffered." Rajmael remembered well his brothers justifications. "What father wouldn't want to give his daughter the world? You would have been so proud of him."

"We were always proud of our Nethras. Just as we are proud of you." Junnarel smiled.

Rajmael felt the weight of mountains being lifted off his shoulders. He was so afraid to tell them the truth, but they knew the paths they take determined the lives that would be lived. Rajmael and Nethras chose opposing roads, and they walked them well. Nethras merely chose a path of violence, and thus it ended violently.

Junnarel began coughing and hacking violently again. This time he was spitting up blood, and there was nothing Ariva could do. When his coughing subsided, he laid very still. His time was running short. Rajmael rushed to his side.

"Junnarel? Please! Please, let me take you to Skyhold. I have some of the best healers in Thedas, and my Arcanist knows more about red lyrium than anyone. Let me save you." Rajmael pleaded desperately.

"Nay. My time has come, and I am at peace with that." Junnarel whispered softly, placing his hand on Rajmael's face and looking at him one last time. "I lived a free man, and have loved and been loved by many. I had the honor and joy to watch three of the most wonderful children grow up under my roof married to the only woman good enough to have me. And I lived long enough to see my clan's dream of finding a home finally come true. I am proud of the man you became, proud of everything you have done for our people. I die...a happy man...my son." Junnarel gently laid back and went to sleep.

"Junnarel? Father? Father!" Rajmael cried in the vain hope his father could hear him.

"Dareth shiral, ma vhenan." Ariva held her husband's hand in hers, her tears falling on his face. Her soul-mate finally gone, she wept with her son.

Cassandra silently walked over to Rajmael and held him closely to her as he cried gently. Tears of her own were falling as she felt Rajmael's loss. She never knew her father, but she would like to think that he was anything like Junnarel. A true father.

~XoXoXo~

A crimson sun began to set down over many hundreds of torches that stood outside the city. A cold autumn wind blew in from the Amaranthine ocean whipped at the many who stood outside the city walls, hissing in their ears and bit into their skin. It did nothing to outstrip the pain of loss they all felt. Never before had Rajmael seen so many gather to mourn thee death of an elf. Not just his own clan, but the city elves, and even the humans of Wycome had gathered to pay their respects to Junnarel's passing.

Rajmael stood at the head of his gathering alongside his companions and his mother and daughter. Ariva held her weeping granddaughter in her arms, her own tears gently flowing down her face. Rajmael did his best to keep a strong face in front of his company and clan. As Junnarel's son, an Arcane Warrior and the Inquisitor, he could not let himself be seen as a wailing woman at his father's funeral.

Iron Bull and Blackwall both stood in respectful silence. As soldiers, they understood the importance and sanctity of mourning the loss of a comrade. And the man who raised the Inquisitor, who lived his whole life for his people, was a man most worthy of respect. And as soldiers, they would show him this respect.

Dorian could not imagine what the Inquisitor must be feeling right now. His relationship with his own father had been strained ever since his father betrayed his trust, and he didn't know how he would feel if his father died so suddenly. But seeing Rajmael's face and how he and his mother shared in this loss made Dorian wish he was closer to his own parents.

The hardest thing for Varric having friends was having to share in their loss. He remembered the look on Hawke's face at Leandra's funeral. The pained look he had on his face at the sight of what the bastard Quentin did to her. Rajmael had that same look right now, trying to cover up that cauldron of loss, anger and pain inside with a strong face. You didn't need to be a hero to love your parents, but Andraste's ass, did heroes feel the most loss.

Pain, sorrow, loss, anger and tears. Cole could feel that everyone here was an ocean of al the same feelings. Junnarel was such an important person to all these people that they felt the same thing together. Cole wished he still had the power to take all this hurt away. But it was important. They would all remember Junnarel, even if it was painful. But the pain would go away someday, and they would always remember the man who helped them.

Sera stood in the background, knowing full well no one here would probably want to see her, especially Ariva. She thought the elfy elves and they stupid elfy ways was still stupid and pointless. But you didn't need to be an elf to feel bad when you lose someone. And that Junnarel guy was a big someone to all these people. Being quiet was probably the best thing right now.

Vivienne was standing the furthest from the Inquisitor and his mother. She doubted her presence near either of them would be welcome. She had to admit, though, for everyone in the city of Wycome to come out in this cold to pay respect to this one elf was impressive. Vivienne would be a fool to not show a modicum of respect herself. After all, the Inquisitor claimed his formidability to the man who raised him. And that was an accomplishment onto itself.

Solas remained quiet, watching as these elves mourn their loss together. Once again, he had been proven wrong about the Dalish, his assertions about them bringing him shame. Not all that long ago, he believed so firmly that the Dalish were foolish, naïve children, who knew less than nothing about what they preached. But he was wrong. They valued one another, saw each brother and sister as precious, and the respect they had for the memories of the ancient ways. And Junnarel had such profound effect on so many. Now Solas knew why Rajmael was the man that he was. His people taught him to be that way.

Cassandra had heard how the Dalish plant a tree over their dead instead of cremating them, and she thought it was a beautiful sentiment. Life growing from death, something to remember their loved ones. Cassandra held Rajmael's hand in hers, knowing how much he, and sweet little Eva must be hurting inside. She was glad to be here with him, to share in his loss just as much as his victories. Now she truly beyond a reason of a doubt why Rajmael didn't want to join the Inquisition. So that Eva would not have to feel anymore of this loss and pain than already has. Rajmael wanted to be a father to her as Junnarel was to him. And Cassandra wished with all her heart that she had grown up with a father like that.

Deshana finished planting Junnarel's Vhenadahl Tree over his body with the aid of her magic and Tylluan. She stood tall and strong before the procession, just as he old friend would have, and spoke in that clear and strong voice of hers. "Thank you all for coming. It does Junnarel proud to see so many come to pay him respect. I have watched four generation of Clan Lavellan walk and grow. And in all those years, I can say without boasting, that Junnarel was amongst the best of them. He was more than just a great hunter, but great father, husband and teacher. Which is why I feel more pride than sorrow, to see how Junnarel's life had effected so many. Now the Creators have called him to our ancestors in the beyond, but we plant this vhenadal tree over him that we might forever remember and honor what he taught us and who he left behind." Deshana turned her blind eyes to Rajmael and beckoned him forward. "I would now like to call Junnarel's younger son, Rajmael. Many of you know him as the Inquisitor, but before that he was, and still is, a son of Clan Lavellan. And Junnarel would want him to say the words."

Rajmael walked out and stood before the gathering of so many. He remembered the words so well. It was something he had trained for his whole life, but not ones he was happy to say. "Hahren'en melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin. Elder your time is come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day. Dareth shiral."

"Dareth Shiral." The entire city echoed.

"Goodbye...Father." Rajmael approached his comrades, no longer letting himself being held by pain and sorrow. "Thank you all for coming, and letting me say my farewells. It means more than I can say. Now we must return to Skyhold. Our duty is not yet done."

"No!" Eva cried. She ran to Rajmael and hugged his waist with painful tears streaking her face. "Rajmael, please. Please don't go! This is your home. You belong with us, you belong with me! I don't to lose you, too."

Rajmael held Eva to him closely. It broke his heart to see her cry, and knew how much pain she was in. Eva had already lost her mother and father, and now her grandfather. Now the only father-figure she had left, and loved so dearly was leaving as soon as he came back. "I wish I could, Eva. I wish it with all my heart. But I must go. I have sworn to carry out a duty, and I must complete it to keep you safe, to keep this world safe. Be strong, da'vhenan, just as your father and grandfather was."

"Please. Please, come home." Eva begged.

"That is why I must fight. So that I can come home." Rajmael looked into Eva's big green eyes one more time. "And when I come back, I will do my best to be as good a father as Nethras and Junnarel was."

Cassandra felt her heart aching again for Rajmael. These were his people, and this was his home. This was everything he ever cared about, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for taking him from it when she declared the Inquisition reborn. Cassandra felt someone tap on her shoulder and turned to find Ariva, looking at her pleadingly.

"Please. Keep my son alive, and bring him back safely. He is all Eva has left in this world." Ariva beseeched gently.

"I...I will do everything I can, Ariva." Cassandra promised.

Ariva's hand gently held Cassandra's face, and looked at her with motherly softness. "Now I see why he loves you. You have so much of Evanura's spirit in you. A truly wonderful thing."

Solas watched the others from a short distance away, ready to leave this behind him. How he wished to not be so familiar with tragedy. He felt a presence standing behind him. "Is there something else you wish to speak of, Keeper?"

"There are many who think of blindness as a handicap, but the body makes up for what it loses with what it has left, especially magic. I now see the world with more clarity and distinction than most people dream of. It grants me an insight into the truth of people's character." The Keeper told with an iron sternness in her voice. "Which is how I know that you lied to me, and have lied to Rajmael."

"Excuse me?" Solas asked indignantly. It was a good thing they were out of earshot of the others.

"No, I will not excuse you." Deshana's face became hard and unforgiving. "The Fade doesn't linger on you, it practically radiates from you. There is something beyond ancient lingering with you, something you are hiding. And anyone who has Rajmael's trust, but will not trust him in return is nothing more than a cunning deceiver, and not to be trusted at all."

"If you truly believe this yourself, why not tell Rajmael? He is standing right there, and I'm sure he'd appreciate you informing my dishonesty." Solas inquired blithely.

"Perhaps I would rather you grow a spine and do it yourself, instead of hiding like a coward." Deshana dared. "So let me offer you this warning: if you want to make an enemy of Rajmael, you are certainly going down the right path. And I think you know better than I do, that Rajmael is an enemy no one wants to have."

"You are right in saying that that is not something I would ever want, but we never have a say in the outcomes of the paths we walk." Solas replied stoically. "Perhaps, when this is over, he will understand why I have done what I have done. But I am glad to know that people like you have guided him. There has never been another like him."

"I have given you my warning. Do with it what you will. But apostate or not, you are more than what you say you are. And if you make Rajmael your enemy, you never know a peaceful sleep ever again." The Keeper turned her back on Solas and walked back to her clan. As she walked away, Solas could feel the sting of her words biting into the back of his mind.

~XoXoXo~

The boat taking them out of Wycome left port, and Rajmael never took his eyes of the city his people had found a home in. This was the second time he had to leave his home and Eva behind, and it was even harder than the first because now his family lost another member.

"I am so sorry about your father, my love." Cassandra spoke, grasping his hand once more. "I wish I could have known him better. My father died when I was still very young, and I barely remember him. I...I would like to think he was like Junnarel."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, ma vhenan." Rajmael assured peacefully. "Everything I am, my family taught me to be. And parents are not supposed to outlive their children. I, I do not want to live a day longer than Eva does."

"Then let us finish Corypheus and make sure no harm will ever come to her." Cassandra bade hopefully.

"Hey, Inquisitor! I think you should see this." Varric pointed over to the cliff on the portside.

Rajmael looked to the top of the cliff and saw Eva looking down on their vessel with his entire clan riding behind her, all of them mounted on their hallas. Every member of Clan Lavellan, even the Keeper, took their bows and fired a volley of arrows that exploded like a thousand glimmering stars of every color over the ship. Rajmael waved to all of them, never taking his eyes of Eva, and felt his anguish melt away. He had returned with a heavy heart, but left with his clan's strength and blessings and felt his spirit revitalize. He would fulfill his mission, and he would do it with the might of Clan Lavellan with him in every footstep.

Language Codex:

Andaran atish'an: Elven greeting, roughly translates as "I dwell in this safe place."

Dareth Shiral: Elven farewell, translates as "Safe Journey."

Da'vhenan: An elven term of affection, translates as "Little Heart."

Ma Vhenan: Elven endearment. Roughly translated, "My Heart."

Da'len: Elven term for a child or someone younger. Literally translates as "Little one."

Bora'nan: Elven sickle-shaped weapon, translates as "Flying Vengeance."

Vir Enasalin: Elven, literally translates as "Path of Victory."

Dirth'ena Enasalin: Elven, translates as "Knowledge That Leads to Victory."

Dalen tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enansal Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen: Elven blessing. Roughly translated, "Child of joy, I grant you the blessings of Mythal, Sylaise, and Dirthamen.

Author's Note:

Okay! I've finally completed this chapter.

And I did it the right way this time, too.

Please, review and tell me what you think, I'm eager to know if I met my goal with this chapter.

Dragon age is the property of the BioWare Gaming Company.

This story was written for the enjoyment of the Dragon Age enthusiasts and the author.

I claim and own absolutely NOTHING!