The frigid Autumn wind of the early morning cut at Seyna's cheeks and whipped stray hairs into her face. It sliced easily through each painstaking layer she had bundled herself in. This was an aggressive, angry sort of cold. She was too stubborn to admit she was miserable.
Seyna was perched on the edge of a small clearing that overlooked the frozen lake. She had found this place within the first few days at Haven, when she was desperate to find some place- any place- where the others did not look upon her with fear, or worship, or skepticism, or disgust. A place where the weight of the judgment of their collective gaze did not smother her. As it turned out, finding alone time within the walls of Haven was all but impossible.
She pulled her hood over her head a bit more, trying in vain to protect herself from the intense chill. Looking to the sky, she saw dark clouds in the distance. The snow would come this afternoon in a fierce storm. Seyna sighed.
Once, seeing snowfall had brought about a feeling of childish joy and excitement, togetherness even. Her clan didn't often venture high enough in elevation to experience the snow because of the trouble it made for the aravels. But occasionally, they would take a party on foot up high enough into the foot hills near Wycomme to revel in the sight of the new snow as it came down in giant, fluffy flakes.
The snow in Haven wasn't like that at all. It pelted at them from all directions in vicious wind and seemed to be more like needles of painful frost than the soft flakes she had known until now.
She frowned, thinking of the oncoming storm. It meant needing to keep busy indoors until the weather passed. It would be too dangerous to go out for long. During the worst of the storms, the Chantry and every other building would fill with the Inquisition soldiers taking refuge from their meager tents. For her, this meant many, many more eyes to ogle her.
The leatherbound journal that Seyna had brought up with her was clamped down to her lap. It was too cold and windy to even bother trying to review notes or write anything new. It forced her to reflect on herself, as the light reflected off the bright snow around and below her.
Without something to keep her hands or mind busy, she was forced to sit here with her thoughts. This had never been her strong suit. It was much easier to keep busy and avoid the big questions that nagged at her.
"What will I say whenever they thank the Maker for my presence? For being the Herald of a Prophetess of a religion so problematic to me and my ancestors?"
"Do they all understand and accept the Exalted March?"
"Will I be put in a Circle when this over?"
"Made Tranquil?"
Tears welled in her eyes now, and Seyna pushed them away stubbornly with the heel of her hand. Crying did not help things. Crying did not answer her questions. Despairing did not harden her resolve against the storm to come.
She thought of the others in the inner circle of advisors and supporters who were present at Haven, how they each looked to her constantly- but with vastly different expressions. Some were curious, some were hopeful, some were demanding, and still more were fearful. They were not mutually exclusive.
Seyna's mind wandered to the Commander who seemed most uncomfortable of all. The ex-Anti Mage soldier and his contempt for her very existence. The pain in her gut twisted tighter, gripping her in its clutches. She could not help who she was or why she was here, but her very existence was the thing he despised. She pulled in a shuddering breath as she sobbed harder.
By the time Seyna heard the disturbance in the trees behind her, the thing was far too close for her to defend herself from it. This far from the settlement it could easily be an assassin, or a wolf, or any other number of dangers. She grabbed for her staff but knew that it was really not going to give her much of a chance if this thing wanted her dead.
"Is that you, Herald? Do not attack-" Seyna's muscles untensed. That Nevarran accent could only be Lady Cassandra. The Seeker pushed her way through the underbrush until she emerged into the clearing. Judging by the snow in her hair and significantly up her legs, Cassandra must have forged a new path through the snow drifts. "Are… Are you alright?" she asked in an uncharacteristically tentative tone.
Seyna looked up to Cassandra with eyes that were still blurry with tears that did not stop. Her mouth was pressed into a firm line while she struggled to gain control of her voice again. She knew if she spoke now, it would sound broken and weepy.
Cassandra's brows knit together in concern. She dusted the snow from her pants and boots as she approached Seyna. "You… must be freezing. It is not safe to venture out alone. Come, let us retu-" She stopped herself when Seyna's head dropped, giving herself over to the tears.
Her shoulders shuddered with heavy sobs. She buried her blotchy, tear-stained face in her arms. Cassandra stayed at her distance for several moments, seeming torn. She wavered on some decision for several moments. In the end she walked over to where the crying elf sat, hunched over her drawn-up knees.
Seyna heard as Cassandra approached, the crunchy snow seeming to squeak under her boots. At first, she just felt an unsteady hand patting her on the shoulder. When Cassandra was not pushed away, she drew in closer and crouched down. Her hand rubbed between Seyna's shoulders in a reassuring way. The friction brought a little warmth to Seyna, even through the many layers between them.
"Will you come… Can I, er- bring you back, Herald?" Cassandra's voice was closer now, she must have knelt. Face still buried, Seyna managed to nod. She felt herself very suddenly scooped up into Cassandra's arms. The Seeker cradled Seyna's lithe frame carefully as they made their way back down the hill. Once they were back to the main path, Cassandra stopped and readjusted Seyna's weight in her arms. She also seemed to be pausing, considering something.
"I think we should go to the cabin out here, until you are… Better." She choked on this word, as if she knew that Seyna was a long way from "Fine" and "Better" would have to do. Seyna understood what Cassandra was communicating though, as they trudged on.
The people cannot see you like this, it would raise too many questions. This understanding only made Seyna's sobs come harder now. The hopelessness grabbed somewhere in her chest and squeezed her.
She could never have a bad day now. Her demeanor and resolve would need to always appear unwavering and calm. The Herald of Andraste accepted all that was put upon her and never faltered. The Herald of Andraste would heal the sky and restore order and peace to the world. The Herald of Andraste would not struggle, this all came naturally to her. She was brought here by the Maker for this purpose, and this purpose alone.
All the lies, the impossible expectations swirled in Seyna's head. It made her dizzy.
To Cassandra's merit, she said nothing when they reached the cabin. She deposited Seyna carefully onto a cot and set herself to building a fire in the hearth right away. "Take off that cloak and your gloves, they are completely soaked through." Her voice was curt and bossy, but it was obvious that she came from a place of caring and concern.
The fire slowly grew, and when Cassandra was satisfied with it, she began to remove her own armored gloves. She set them on the hearth to thaw and dry out. When Seyna's frozen fingers fumbled at the clasp on her cloak for the fourth time, Cassandra's hands were there to help her.
Seyna suddenly felt very homesick. She thought of her closest friend who had been like an older sister for her entire life. This made her grateful for Cassandra's somewhat forceful help but painfully twisted her heart in new ways. When would she see Thea again? Would … would she see her again? It was too much. Pain flooded her every thought, distorting everything in its path.
She found herself being pulled up and over to sit next to the fire. She spent a long time on the floor there, with the same thoughts coming again and again.
"This is too much."
"I can't do this."
"How do I make it stop?"
"I will never be able to do this."
Somehow, eventually, the tears ran out.
Her unsteady breathing was coaxed back to normal with some deliberately slow breaths. Seyna's slender fingers did return to having feeling, but the first thing of course was to feel intense pain at how cold they were. They were bright red and throbbing. She held her hands in front of her, staring powerlessly as they ached intensely.
Seyna looked up to see the Seeker seated at a table nearby. They looked at one another, both struggling to find words properly suited to this moment. It occurred to the elf that she was feeling truly seen since she had first stepped out of the fade. The feeling steadied her, providing the smallest bit of comfort.
Eventually, Cassandra turned away with a slight frown. "I am sorry, you know..." It was so quiet, Seyna struggled to catch it over the sounds of the wind battering the cabin and the steady fire.
"I know." She managed to reply. Cassandra did not turn, but the way her lip trembled the tiniest bit told Seyna she'd been heard.
After a time in the quiet, Cassandra prepared to depart. She checked the sun's position in the sky through the window. "We are due to be meeting at the War Table this morning, in a quarter of an hour I'd say." Her tone was professional, but there was the slightest tone of apology to it. She wanted to give Seyna more time, but it was impossible.
The elf nodded in reply, and she turned to watch as Cassandra left. Just like that, she was alone again. Something was different, though. She wasn't as alone as before. Not really. Seyna hoped that more of the people who became her inner circle would be able to see her as she was, as something other than the Herald. Someone other than the one who came to them through the fade.
When her fingers were finally warm again and much less painful than before, she managed to pull them through her damp hair well enough to re-braid it. It was something of a meditative practice for her; the braid reminded her of home, and in a way, it protected her. It helped her preserve who she was in the face of who they all wanted her to be.
She gathered her slightly thawed cloak and gloves from the hearth and re-dressed. With renewed resolve, she smothered the fire and stepped out of the cabin. Her expression was focused and alert as she set out for the gates of Haven. The darkening clouds in the sky were slightly closer now. The storm would hit this afternoon, but they would be prepared to weather it.