All the Players on the Stage
After three days of relatively self-imposed solitude and observation, the stagnation that had come to be her life after her attempt to close the Breach seemed to have lifted. Thus, as she returned to her cabin, she stopped at Varric's tent, hoping to find him there.
"Varric?" she called out softly just outside the loose-hanging entrance flaps.
"Come on in," Varric's flat, almost begrudging, voice was muffled through the oiled canvas tent.
Enya pushed the heavy material aside and stepped into the small space. Inside was not much warmer than the outside, she noted, and she starred at the small openings between the ground and the edge of the tent for a moment. The only reason for the warmth was the shelter from the wind it provided. The elf looked over at Varric and widened her eyes in surprise for her sat at a table at the rear of the tent. A ramskin rug adorned the floor beneath this desk arrangement. He held a quill in one hand and the other pressed down on a hide-bound book, holding it open. There were several moments of silence before the dwarf turned around.
"Ah you. I should have known you'd come to see me," Varric commented and then at the look on her face he replied, "I'm a novelist. I write stories about brave people in desperate situations overcoming impossible odds."
"A novelist." She parroted unintentionally.
"Don't worry, it surprised me too," Varric responded easily. He stepped down from his chair and gestured, "Its cold in here. Let's go sit by the fire."
Enya followed him out to the fire. Varric held his hands toward it, warming them.
"So, how are you really? You've been bouncing from on one end of the spectrum or the other since before I met you. First, you're the most wanted person in all of Thedas, then you kept a hole in the sky from swallowing us whole and suddenly became what some would call a divine figure." The dwarf turned to her, "Not exactly what I would call an easy week."
"I just can't make it past how many lives were lost at the Conclave," she looked down for a moment, "But I'm glad that I lived. I have the chance to do something about it."
"That's the spirit. If everyone had that kind of morale around here, it would be a lot less dour of a place." Varric looked up at the Breach, "For days everyone watched every manner of horrible, terrifying and grotesque creature fall out of that thing. And you just walked up there, stuck you hand out and closed it."
Enya studied him for a moment and quipped, "You make it sound like what I did was easy. I did almost die."
"Oh I didn't mean what you did was a small task, on the contrary, I can't quite believe that you did it." He paused and then added, "If I hadn't 'a seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed that if someone told me."
They were silent for a moment and then he added, "Hard to believe anyone survived those days."
"If it was so bad, why did you stay?" Enya asked.
"When it comes right down to it, I'm not half the self-centered bastard I pretend to be." He replied casually, "World goes crazy, I'm not gonna walk away and leave everyone else to sort it out."
"A brave sentiment," Enya commented and stooped to put another log on the fire. It hissed, spitting sparks up into the air.
"Or mad," He commented, watching the sparks fly, "So, was there a reason you came to see me or did you just want to hear a lazy dwarf ramble about the state of our Thedas?"
Enya flexed her hand, looking again down at the gate and then at the dark clouds that had brought snow vanishing beyond the far mountains.
"I'm leaving tomorrow for the Hinterlands." She began stiffly, "I was hoping you would join me."
"I might consider it," Varric's words were filled with a smile, "You need to relax. We here in Haven won't bite your head off. That's what the rest of the world will be trying to do."
Enya smiled and nodded at him before rising, "I should start packing."
"I would ask a couple other people to go with you," he commented, staring up at her from his crouched position, "I've written enough novels to know how stories get started."
Enya's smiled widened, "I'll keep that in mind, Varric."
"You do that," he commented as she walked away.
Enya walked away, then paused on her way down the steps turning. She had assumed that Cassandra would be joining them. It only made sense with a mission that the Inquisition leaders were utilizing to gauge her usefulness they would want someone in a leadership position with her. Cassandra would be an excellent choice, not only with her fighting prowess, but also in the fact that she was not needed permanently for the infrastructure of the Inquisition. Now she thought of it, though, the elf wondered if she shouldn't confirm her assumption. She turned back to Varric.
"Varric?"
Varric glanced up from the piece of meat he was cooking over his fire, "Miss me already?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Enya responded before she could stop herself.
Varric's appreciative chuckle let her know she hadn't fouled their relationship with her candor, "Alright, what did you want?"
"Do you know where I could find, Cassandra?" She asked.
"Hmmm…" he hummed quietly, "Last I saw the Seeker, she was on her way down to the practice grounds with Commander Cullen. Haven't seen her since."
Enya nodded, "I'll try there first then. Thanks, Varric."
"Don't mention it, kid." He responded good-naturedly.
Enya did make her way all the way down the steps this time. The late-afternoon light was beginning to fade and she found herself hurrying along a partially frozen path to the gates. One of the guards pushed open the heavy wood door for her and she nodded thanks to him. He responded with a resounding "Herald" which she tried to ignore. The sound of swords and shield smashing together had died down. Several campfires burned around the encampment surrounded by soldiers eating their evening meal. Enya imagined they would stay at those fires for a good long while, returning only to their cold tents to sleep.
There remained the softest of thunking noises and it grew ever louder as she approached the camp. Beyond the soldiers, she spotted a lone figure hacking viciously at the practice dummies. So much was the case that one of them was actually missing its limbs and head. Enya walked quickly past the other soldiers, hoping to go unnoticed. The idea of more people placing their faith in her by calling her "Herald" seemed unappealing and they would if they saw and recognized her.
It wasn't difficult to understand why, even dressed in dull mercenaries garb, they recognized her. Compared to the elves in Haven she was strikingly different. Where their eyes were hazel and hair a ruddy red, typically cut short, hers were a glowing emerald green and her hair black as obsidian and long, though it was hard to tell since it was almost always pulled tightly to the back of her head. Together, those features made her as identifiable as Cullen's fur collar made him.
From this distance she could recognize Cassandra as the warrior seemingly taking out her frustrations mercilessly on an unsuspecting practice dummy. Enya approached with caution, staying well wide of Cassandra's overpowered swings.
"Everything alright?" she called out as she drew near.
The other woman jumped and lowered her sword, "You shouldn't sneak up on a person wielding a sword."
"I'll keep that in mind." Enya replied and cocked her head to the side, "So, are you alright?"
Cassandra paced away from her and then looked back, "Was this the right decision?"
Enya remained silent watching as she turned back to hitting the dummy.
"Have I turned my back on everything I once held in high regard in my life? The chantry? The Templar Order? My years as a Seeker?" She swung hard, hitting both targets in one sweep.
"They seem me as a traitor now, see us all as traitors. Will I be a madwoman, crazy for power when the historians write this chapter in the history of Thedas?"
"You had no choice," Enya's voice was filled with conviction, "The Chantry, the Templars. You heard what Leliana said, they have all turned their backs on finding a solution, content to live in a world that may someday fall apart to avoid treating with mages, whom they blame instead."
"I was like them not so long ago, as you surely recall," Cassandra dropped her sword on the ground and turned to face her, "I blamed you for what happened at the Conclave. I was so certain, so happy to have someone to blame for the death of the Divine that I never stopped to think that you might be a victim."
Enya raised her eyebrows, in surprise. It sounded like Cassandra was apologizing in her own round-about way, "It's not as though you didn't have reason to suspect me."
"I should have allowed doubt. In Val Royeux, a person is presumed innocent until proven guilty. I forgot that." Cassandra lowered her gaze for a moment, "That will not happen again." She paused and Enya felt she was taking stock of a great weight lifting form her shoulders, "Anyway, presumably you did no come down here to hear an old warrior talk. What was it you wanted?"
"Am I correct in assuming that you will be accompanying me to the Hinterlands?" she asked.
Cassandra laughed shortly and then nodded, "You are a sharp one aren't you? Yes, I'll be joining you. This, Mother Giselle would be a valuable asset in our quest to gain influence across Thedas." She picked up her sword from the ground and sheathed it with a click, "I want to be there and confirm that she is the person we hope her to." She gestured, "I wonder, have you asked anyone else to join this expedition?"
"I spoke with Varric just before I came to see you. He will be joining us." Enya watched a decidedly displeased expression cross the Seeker's features.
Despite her obvious objection to his company, Cassandra replied, "He is a good fighter and that crossbow he uses is a better weapon than most I've encountered."
"He has a unique perspective on the world," the elf commented.
"Oh, you mean his fanciful tales? Yes, he certainly manages to create his own version of the facts." The warrior quipped.
They passed Cullen and Cassandra exchanged a curt nod with him. They ascended the steps to the open gates and passed through. Enya turned as the path diverged up the stone stairs to the next level. Cassandra's voice stopped her.
"You should ask Solas to join us."
Enya looked back at her questioningly. It wasn't as though she didn't like Solas it was simply that she was surprised Cassandra would be the one to suggest bringing him along. The woman did not exactly see eye to eye with apostates, even their elven rift advisor.
"He is a talented fighter and his insights are invaluable. After all, we might find ourselves in need of his expertise should we run into any more rifts." Cassandra added as an afterthought, "And in the right situation, I cannot say that a mage is not useful."
"I will speak with him then," the elf responded.
"You'll find him by the apothecary, Herald," Cassandra advised as she left.
Enya slipped into her cottage and pulled a thick wool cloak from a shoeing nail hammered into the door frame. She divested herself of her sword and flung the grey fabric about her shoulders before setting out across the camp. Adan had been grateful, in his own way, for her thanks regarding her recovery but she had not truly spoken to Solas regarding the same thing. In truth, beyond a respectful nod as they past each other during the day, they had scarcely spoken at all. From what she had gathered from the many conversations she had overheard in the tavern, it was not just her that he had not spoken with but everyone. It seemed he spent most of his time by himself, a trait she understood.
There had been a time where all she had done was climb and run through the trees. To some elves, killing had come naturally, a basic skill to survive but not so for her. She scouted out their prey from above in the high branches of the trees in the forests of the free marches. Her keen observational skills and ability to move silently enough to spot an august ram or nug without scarring it away had been the reason Clan Lavellan sent her to the Conclave in the first place.
As she approached his area of camp, she spotted him standing at the upper end of the stairs, eyes fixed on a point just beyond Haven in the valley below. He wore only a pair of green leggings and a tunic, and she wondered how in Thedas he was not chilled to the bone. It was warmer in the Free Marches, much warmer, but she still couldn't see how he could possibly stand the biting wind that blew through Haven.
Enya had nearly reached the stairs up to the terraced level of three houses when her movement finally caught his attention. He smiled slightly at her, lowering his crossed arms.
"The Andraste's chosen, they call you. You are the hero sent to save us all," he commented, his tone daring, questioning and perhaps the faintest bit mocking.
"A hero, I have hope to be, but I am not what they claim I am," She replied defensively.
"Spoken with a most noble intention," he responded tilting his head slightly to one side.
She stared at him hard trying to gauge what he meant by his words. They seemed harsh, harsher than she deserved but she wondered whether or not he meant them as such. Enya crossed her arms over her chest pointedly.
"I meant that, truly, not in jest," Solas amended, "You have been made skeptical by the events of your time. But your hope…" he trailed off and then walked past her to stand by the stone wall that surrounded this section of Haven.
Enya's gaze followed him, even as he turned away from her and she wondered whether their conversation was over before it had even begun.
"I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefield to see the dreams of lost civilizations." He drew a breath and she moved to join him, compelled by his words to come closer, like a child is drawn by the allure of the storyteller, "I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous…and forgotten." He lowered his eyes from the mountain view.
"In my travels I have seen many heroes. I feel I am compelled to wonder what kind you will be," Solas fixed her under his grey gaze.
Returning his stare with an equally strong one of her own she replied, "The kind of hero that remembers that victory is not hers alone. One that remembers that anyone could have fallen into her fate if they had moved at the right moment," she paused, "or heard the right plea."
The corner of his mouth quirked into a half smile at her answer. He lifted his eyes from hers to glance back out at the mountains.
"You have a very honourable spirit," he remarked.
They stood in silence for a moment and Enya drew her cloak closer to her. The pale orange hues of the suns weak rays still shown over the high peaks but only just.
"What do you mean, you have seen ancient civilizations?" she inquired.
"Memories are echoed in the fade by the spirits who were present at great events. Any building that has withstood the tests of time or any place that has seen great bloodshed is rife with them," he replied, "Despite what the Circles would have the world believe, there are spirits whose intentions are no more malicious than your own. They wish only to pass the burden of their wisdom onto other souls."
Enya stared at him, "Then… you enter the Fade?" her voice peaked with surprise.
"Yes. I visit such places, and I dream," he replied, "I go deep into the Fade where there lie secrets and memories no one has dared strive to see."
She raised an eyebrow, "That isn't dangerous?"
"I am safe in the Fade. I have spent years honing my understanding of the Beyond; I can gauge the danger of a spirit when I meet it. I can tell its intentions." Solas turn to her and the corner of his mouth lifted, "You were asking of my sleeping in the ruins."
Enya nodded recognizing the familiar reflex of defending ones beliefs and talents.
"I am rather adept at providing myself with magical wards, and it is easy to appease the creatures that dwell in such places." Again, he smiled almost imperceptibly.
"To go so deep into the Fade… It is an amazing skill." She admired.
"Fadedreaming may not be the most sought after course for a mages. After all, you cannot truly share with others the depth of the memories you have witnessed," her paused, "but the satisfaction of touching on a memory that has long since been forgotten by our world…I would not trade it."
The elven warrior imagined the thrill of running across a piece of lost knowledge and gaining new truths, "If I had your abilities, I would not either."
"Very well," he responded as though affirming something she had yet to ask, "I will aid your Inquisition."
"You were thinking of leaving?" Enya replied, shocked by this revelation. He had seemed to have so much conviction regarding the closure of the Breach.
He stepped back from the wall, walking back along the side of his house before explaining, "I am an elven apostate surrounded by former Templars and members of the Chantry." He paused, "They have been most accommodating thus far, but I cannot trust that their hospitality will hold."
"Well, if they intend to use your offer of help against you they will have me to contend with," Enya reassured.
"And what would that look like? How would you stop them?" Solas' full attention was focused on her now. A flash of relief and perhaps gratefulness filled his expression before it became stoically curious again.
She responded immediately without any thought, "However I had to."
He was silent for a moment, pensive and then a small smile crept onto his face, "You have my gratitude." The elven mage thanked her and then queried, "It seemed you had a purpose for this talk. Was I wrong?"
Enya shook her head, "No. You were not," she paused, "Tomorrow I am leaving for the Hinterlands."
"And you want me to accompany you."
It was not a question but she nodded nevertheless.
"Then I shall be ready." Solas agreed, "I assume we leave at first light?"
"You assume correctly," Enya affirmed, "We won't be on foot so you needn't concern yourself with a light load if you do not wish to."
"I would not burden a horse with more than I would carry myself," the elven mage walked toward the door to his house, "I haven't enough possessions for my back to be heavy regardless," he paused, a hand on his door, "We will speak more in the future, Lavellan, but for now, I think the darkness of the night should be our sign to close our eyes."
Enya looked around herself and realized he was right. They had talked until the last rays of twilight vanished.
"Until tomorrow, Solas," she said in farewell.
He nodded to her and then slipped into his home. Enya made her way down the two flights of stone steps toward her own, taking the long way behind the tavern. A stout Mabari stood by the door. She gave it a pat on the head as she passed it and continued on noting that, with the exception of drunken singing from the tavern, the drunks voices had overtaken the bard's, the camp was silent. Fires burned low and the snow glistened with a mirrored sheen in the moonlight.
She stepped into her home a placed a few of her possessions into a leather pack that someone had left for her. Enya's eyes drifted over the lute in the corner and she stopped for a moment to wonder if she even remembered how to play before putting that notion aside. She did not have the time to spend playing an instrument. There were a long few days of travelling ahead. There would be no sleeping on a feather mattress then. She unfastened her boots and lifted her heavy mercenary shirt from her shoulders before climbing into the soft bed in the corner.