A dream. It had been a dreadful dream, but now it was over. Nicolette stretched luxuriously beneath the covers, enjoying the softness of the mattress. She was used to sleeping on the ground or straw ticking, but this was far more comfortable than either. The Singing Maiden certainly hadn't skimped on bedding…except now she thought about it, she hadn't actually got a room there as far as she remembered. Everything slipped to black shortly after Thomas had led her into the Temple of Ashes.

Where was she? Cautiously, she opened her eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling was overhead, and she could feel under the covers that she was wearing what seemed to be a tunic and breeches rather than the nightshirt she usually wore to sleep. She raised a hand to rub her eyes, and then froze to stare at the glowing gouge crossing her palm.

It was real. Which meant she was in Haven, and she had been at the Temple of Ashes, and nearly been crushed by a Pride Demon while trying to seal the Breach -

She sat up quickly and immediately regretted it as the room spun. At first she thought her brain had broken free and was clattering against the side of her skull, then she heard a gasp and noticed that the door had opened, admitting a woman who was in the process of dropping a pile of clothes on the floor. Nicolette's clothes. At the top of the pile was the dress she had been wearing when she set off with Thomas, and the ragged remains of which Cassandra had made her abandon in exchange for armour on the way out of the Chantry. There was little sign of damage to it now; it had been expertly sewn.

"My lady! I apologise, I wasn't aware that you were awake!" The woman - an elf, Nicolette could see now her vision was clearing - flung herself on the floor. "I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing - I am but a humble servant!"

Nicolette wasn't naturally inclined towards anger, but a few things could stir her that way, and she wondered what sort of treatment the woman was used to that she was grovelling over a minor disturbance. She moved perhaps more quickly than was advisable, reaching for the woman's shoulders as she ignored the protesting chorus of aches from her body. "You don't need forgiveness. There's nothing to forgive."

This was coupled with a reassuring smile, but Nicolette wondered if she should have done differently; the woman gazed at her with tear filled eyes that were widening in almost rhapsodic wonder. "My lady is so very kind-"

Enough of that. Nicolette rose, guiding the woman to her feet. "What's your name?"

"Karletha."

"Karletha. My name's Nicolette - you don't need to call me 'my lady.' Would you mind telling me how I got here?"

"Oh! Of course." Karletha pulled herself together, although not by much. "The soldiers brought you down from the mountain, after you stopped the Breach from spreading. They say you saved us all! It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!"

That explained the knife edge of hunger that was scything its way through Nicolette's stomach. She counted backwards - three days of unconsciousness, before that a trek up the mountain, and before that even more days in which she had thrashed around in the depths of a nightmare. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten a proper meal. That was not quite taking precedent over the most important part of what Karletha was saying.

"So we didn't close the Breach?"

"No, but you stopped it from getting worse and demons aren't falling from the sky anymore." She started, apparently remembering her instructions. "Oh! I need - here, my lady, your dress. Your other possessions are over there. You should get to the Chantry - Seeker Cassandra said she would want to see you as soon as you woke up."

Personally Nicolette was fine with not encountering Cassandra's scowl any earlier than she needed to, but Karletha was already scurrying backwards towards the door. "I'll tell her you're coming. At once, she said!"

With that she was through the door and closing it behind her, but not before Nicolette heard her calling out. "Everyone! She's awake!"

That was discomforting.

Nicolette shuffled the dress beneath one arm so she could turn her hand over and inspect the wound on her palm. It didn't actually hurt anymore, but it throbbed slightly. Less like pain and more like a second heart beat. She didn't like that thought. She also attempted to think about the fact that she could apparently do magic now and her brain edged away from that as well.

On to the things she could handle right now, then. She has been changed into the nightshirt and evidently been given a bath while she was unconscious, but she still took advantage of the water and sponge on the nightstand to try and scrub away the last, rancid feelings from the climb up the mountain. The odd garments she had been wearing when she woke up were discarded in favour of the dress, which was a soft blue she found soothing. She then went to where her other possessions were, found her vielle case, and opened it.

At least there was some relief there - not only was the instrument still safe, it was unharmed. The soft wood gleamed from its last polishing and every string was still taut. She plucked each to check the tuning, and tested the strings of the bow before picking both up and playing a scale. The ritual soothed her and when she was done, she put it all back in the case and then pulled the strap over her head. There wouldn't be any need for it in the Chantry but the weight was comforting.

She was taking her sweet time. Quite probably the Seeker would be annoyed, but a small core of stubbornness told Nicolette not to care. She knew her life was going to change dramatically the moment she opened the door, and she wanted to savour the last few moments she was in control of it. She washed her face, applied kohl to her eyes and checked her dress was straight and her hair neatly bound back in its usual plait before drawing a deep breath. She let it out slowly, and then pulled the handle, stepping out quickly before she lost her nerve.

-OOO

Even with a lifetime of diplomatic patience bred into her, Josephine was itching to give Roderick a good slap. He was just so aggressively sure of his own righteousness, even though he had never had the Divine's ear in the way that Leli and Cassandra did. When the Herald had arrived, he'd gone so far as to order the templars in attendance to chain her, as though he was the one in charge. Fortunately, as he'd been willing to surrender the remaining soldiers in the valley to the demons, and Cassandra had not, the templars obeyed her orders rather than his. He stormed out and Josephine's headache receded enough for her to pay proper attention to their guest and erstwhile saviour.

She hadn't really got a good glimpse of her before. The Herald had been unconscious for the duration of that time and was usually surrounded either by guards or healers. Josephine, grieving for the Divine, had thrown herself into the logistics of providing for soldiers and refugees, and had not had the time or inclination to attempt a prolonged look.

Despite being obviously discomfited by the greeting she'd been given, the Herald carried herself with an easy grace. She was a tall woman, and her colouring suggested Rivaini blood. Her eyes were astonishing, large and amber, and there was something delicate about her jawline. There were small creases at the corner of her mouth that suggested she smiled a lot. When she reached up to push an errant lock of hair off her face, she had the long, capable looking hands of a born musician.

She was also the most likely candidate still for the Divine's murder, so Josephine tucked those thoughts firmly away behind a civil veneer as they were introduced. When she called her 'Herald', the other woman flinched.

"I'd rather not be called that, if it is well with you," she murmured. Her accent was largely Orlesian but tinged with something else. "My name's Nicolette."

Josephine smiled a little. "I would be concerned if you did want to embrace the title. It's quite a one to live up to-"

"And one we need to take advantage of," Cassandra interrupted, with her usual tact. "We've lost the support of the Chantry. If people think she was ordained by Andraste to save us from this chaos, we might win enough people to our banner that it won't matter."

"Far better that we encourage those more reasonable voices of the Chantry to turn the tides in our direction." Leli's voice was quiet, sure but colourless. Josephine shot her a worried look. Her friend had become ever more serious since becoming the Divine's left hand, and all the life seemed to have left her in the last few days. "Otherwise they could accuse us of trying to raise a cult. I suggest we approach Mother Giselle at the first opportunity."

"She's in the Hinterlands, and I don't see what one priestess who has already upset numerous people can do to change their minds." Cullen could be as blunt as Cassandra. He was shifting his weight, alternating between glowering at the war table and, after an initial glance, pointedly not looking at Nicolette.

"Mother Giselle causes upset, but she is revered and will be listened to."

"We may need the Chantry eventually, but right now we need soldiers, we need supplies. People are far more likely to volunteer themselves if they think the Maker's hand is in this."

"It's not." Nicolette had folded her arms. Josephine could see tension in her jaw. "If it was, he would have chosen someone better suited."

"Are you saying it wasn't Andraste you saw in the Fade?" Leliana had stepped closer to the table, opening up a little even as Nicolette was shutting down.

"I never claimed it was. I saw a woman reach out for me, and then I woke up in your dungeons." Nicolette's voice was sharp as glass. "I am not your Herald."

Cassandra snorted. "Like it or not, you are. If you go off alone, the Chantry will find you, and-"

Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose. Working with the Seeker was sometimes like trying to do a delicate wood engraving and then have somebody come along and smash a chisel into it. "Cassandra. This is not the way."

Nicolette turned her gaze in her direction, one eyebrow lifting. "What tune will you sing to make me dance, then?"

Josephine had read Leliana's brief, and she hadn't missed that of all her possessions, Nicolette had come in carrying her vielle case. This was not a person given to combat, nor inclined to stay in one place for long. She needed compelling reasons to remain that didn't involve threats.

"Not a tune. An offer." She tapped her fingers on the edge of the board. "You are a fledgling at magic. Out in the world you are at risk, yes; but here we have Solas, who can teach you to control it."

Nicolette didn't respond beyond tilting her head in a gesture for Josephine to continue, but her jaw seemed less tight.

"As Cassandra attempted to communicate, we can also offer you protection. If you left, it would be hard for the Chantry to find a single woman in the countryside, but it would thread every visit to civilisation with danger.

"And finally - less of an offer, and more of an appeal. Your scar can close rifts. If you ally with us, we can use our resources to track down these rifts and get you to their location faster than you can do on your own. By doing so you would be sure to save many lives."

Nicolette's expression had shifted; she didn't appear hostile now, but she was definitely concerned. "I'm not a hero. I just tell stories about them."

"Well, you're in a story now." Surprisingly, Leliana had stepped forward. There was more life in her eyes than Josephine had seen in a while. "And you can bring it to a happy conclusion. Join the Inquisition, help us, and we will help you."

There was a long pause. "After this is over, will I be free to go?"

There was a big if in there, but they all tactfully knew not to acknowledge it. Cullen cleared his throat. "On our honour, you will be allowed to leave us once you have assisted in closing the Breach."

Nicolette was looking down at the map on the war table, gaze flitting across the figures placed around it. She had an expressive face and Josephine read worry, fear, resentment and reluctance flit across her features before they settled into something more steadfast, and she reached out to touch the marker placed on the Hinterlands.

"You said this Mother Giselle would be of use to us in legitimising this…organisation, yes?"

Josephine felt rather than saw the relieved exhales coming from the other occupants of the room even as her own escaped her. "The Inquisition, correct."

Nicolette's head snapped up. "The Inquisition?"

"Named after the Inquisitions of old, before we had the templar order," Cassandra explained.

To Josephine's surprise, Nicolette started to laugh. There was a wobbly edge to it. "Well, as far as reassuring names go, I would advise against it. But I suppose it will look good in the history books. Assuming there are any, after all this. I hate fighting and think I'll be killed in the first five minutes, but…I can't walk away from this."

"And so it is," Cassandra concluded, clearly not above a little touch of the dramatic herself. "The Inquisition is reborn."

Nicolette pursed her lips, casting a side long look at Josephine. There was a gallows amusement to it. Josephine had to glance down quickly at her board before she started smiling back, in case Cassandra thought she was being laughed at.

"I suppose it is. I'll try to see it outlive its first year."