Last chapter: Pride demon fight, Ellana stops the breach, and Amaryllis hears first word of Ellana's new title.

Short chapter, but it felt natural to end it there.
Also, hello! I do exist and I'm still working on this! lol I was doing a February writing challenge, then was also working on an original novel idea, so I'm a tad slow again, but I had to take a break from the original idea so here I am again! I missed Amaryllis.

Look forward to more updates :) and to Emil! I can't wait to see his stinky smile again.
(sorry for the format-FFN always messes it up. If you'd like the proper format, please read this on archiveofourown)

"Some of the soldiers have taken to calling her that-' the Herald of Andraste.' They claim the woman they saw in the rift behind her had been Andraste herself."

"And what do you think?"

"What do I think? I think this shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder. But if Andraste truly chose her... she must've known we'd need a miracle."

Amaryllis followed behind the two soldiers carrying Ellana, shocked into silence. Soldiers fell to one knee, crossing an arm over their chests.

"The Herald of Andraste."

Up a flight of stairs and out of the temple they walked, then down into the camp below. The people stood unmoving as if shocked into stillness by the sight of the sky now that the expansion of the breach had been stopped.

Whispering began.

"She stopped the breach."

"What does this mean?"

"Why hasn't it closed?"

"What will happen now?"

Varric was right. Shit did keep getting weirder and weirder.

On a chair beside the window, Amaryllis sat, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching the steady rise and fall of her sister's chest where she laid upon a bed. Not a dirty cot in a damp and dingy dungeon, but a bed with plush pillows and a duvet in a private cottage. Looking at the belongings strewn about-books, a lute, papers and pen atop a desk, a painting of a woman beside the fireplace-Amaryllis wondered vaguely if this was someone's home they were infringing upon.

Not that it would matter. The person had likely given it up without a second thought. Anything for the Herald of Andraste.

Amaryllis didn't like to admit it, but she didn't know much about the Chantry or its teachings. What little she did know had been said after the Templar incident years before. She wasn't sure if it had been purposeful, that she had been left in the dark, or if it just hadn't come to anyone's mind. Maybe they had expected her to learn on her own, over time. Maybe they hadn't wanted her to know. She wondered if Ellana knew, or if she had been living in the dark as much as she had.

Either way, it didn't matter. They were here now, and Ellana had been deemed Andraste's Herald, and now Amaryllis would be learning the things she hadn't known, in the hopes that she would be able to help her sister when the time came.

She turned to the copy of the Chant she had found on the desk and opened it to the first page.

Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground,

Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.

Andraste 7:12

Amaryllis awoke with a dangerously uncomfortable crick in her neck. She lifted her head from the table, where her cheek had been pressed into the Chant of Light, and stretched, quickly glancing over to Ellana. Her sister was sprawled beneath the covers, chest still rising and falling with each gentle breath.

She sat beside Ellana on the bed and allowed cerulean blue to encase her hand, running it gently over her sister's chest, her stomach, her head, her hand. The light evanesced, and with it, what little energy Amaryllis had gained from her short nap. Since they had arrived back in Haven she had barely taken a moment to rest and had instead taken it upon herself to stand guard over her sister while she slept. It wasn't that she didn't trust others. No, she knew that none of the Inquisition would dare to harm her sister, especially not the "Herald of Andraste" who held the key to closing the breach in the palm of her left hand. Amaryllis just... needed to see it for herself. She needed to be there, this time, for when Ellana opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar place.

Amaryllis wasn't sure how long she spent at Ellana's side, alternating between staring at Ellana as if she were about to vanish midair and gazing vacantly, dazedly, into the fireplace, until the cottage door opened. Solas and Adan entered, the former holding a tray of food and the latter carrying a satchel she assumed was full of potions and poultices alike. She stood, taking a moment to stretch her aching shoulders yet again.

Solas set the tray upon the desk and turned to her. The firelight danced across the skin of his bald head. Delirious, Amaryllis fought not to laugh and instead turned to look back at her sister as if she were ignoring the two.

"Cassandra thought you might be hungry," he said.

"I am, thank you."

"You have yet to rest," he stated, his tone turning sharp. Clipped. She didn't try to deny it; she knew the lack of sleep had to be blatant in the purple beneath her eyes. "Why do you choose to neglect yourself? Do you think this helps your sister in any way?"

Amaryllis said nothing.

Solas sighed audibly. "Apothecary Adan has a job to do, as do I. Eat. I will let you know when we are finished."

She stood, blinking wearily as she gazed between her sister and Adan, who had approached the side of the bed and began pulling jars out of his pack. Solas took Amaryllis's place, blocking her view of her sister. So she sat at the desk and pulled the tray closer to the edge. Grasping her spoon, she dipped it into the creamy stew. Chicken and dumplings. She blinked again. A side of potato cakes sat to the right, a buttered roll, and... no, it couldn't be.

Chocolate.

Amaryllis was tempted for a moment to return the food to whomever it had been meant for. There was no possible way that Cassandra-that anyone would have given her chocolate.

And yet, she brought the spoon to her mouth, tore into the potato cakes, and, once the bowl had been emptied, sopped up every little bit of stew she could; and though her stomach protested, full to the point of bursting, the chocolate...

It was circular and topped with a sprinkle of salt. It reminded her of the chocolates her father would buy them for Valentine's Day-the ones that came in heart-shaped boxes. She remembered the boxes, the cards, the flowers, the way her father would give all three of them a kiss on the cheek. How he would tell them he loved them. When she was too young to read he would open the card and read it to her. When she finally could read she would save it for later, to read alone, for she knew the words would make her cry, and she didn't want him to see her tears and think that he had hurt her. Thinking back now, she knew he would have known the truth. He would have pressed kisses into her hair. He would have wiped away her tears. He would have held her tightly.

She closed her eyes against the image. These thoughts were the reason she stayed busy; with an idle mind came racing thoughts, daydreams, images of memories she had kept locked away for so long, memories she had never found the strength to revisit.

"The chocolate was a gift," Solas said. Amaryllis breathed a silent sigh of relief at Solas's interruption. "From the Inquisition's Chief Ambassador. She is grateful for what you have done."

She nodded but made no move to touch it. "I'll have to thank her when I meet her."

"Finished," Adan grumbled, refilling his pack. He met her gaze and nodded. "Heard you're a healer or something like that. Heard that you helped some of the wounded, at least, up there on the mountain. Instead of sitting here, holed up with no one to talk to but an unconscious woman, why don't you come out and help. There are few around who can. You're needed."

Without waiting for an answer he stormed out. The door slammed shut behind him.

When she turned back to Solas in surprise, she found that he was smiling, albeit briefly.

"I do not think that that is an entirely bad idea," he said. "I imagine you would find it preferable to this." Taking a step toward the entrance, he paused and said "do eat the chocolate, Amaryllis, or you may risk offending our Lady Ambassador. I would advise against doing so."

When the door shut softly, and Amaryllis was alone yet again, she gently picked up the chocolate and held it between her trembling fingers. Sitting on the bed beside her sister, she rolled it between her fingertips. If she didn't put it down or eat it now, it'd melt in her fingertips. She looked between the chocolate and her sister. And popped the chocolate into her mouth before she could question the decision. The rich, gooey, honeyed taste of salted caramel coated the roof of her mouth.

It was sweet.