a/n- I am a terrible author for you guys. I've left you a whole two weeks (nearly) without and update and only just realized my fallacy. See, I've had this chapter just about squared away for quite a while not, but I completely forgot I hadn't actually update. Now I feel terrible so I hope you can forgive me. Anyway, I'm quite prou of this next chapter. I'm in the process of establishing just exactly WHO my Lavellan is for you guys so you can see what kind of Inquisitor she might be. Hopefully you get to see a bit of that in this chapter. You can let me know with a nice review.

Dareth Shiral

All Shiny and Safe

They boarded their ship as the sun reached its perigee and then sailed away from Val Royeux, back to the East. Enya settled again into her spot by the prow though the grey horizon held only the darkness of responsibility that loomed like a thunderhead over her. Her words that day had made little difference, though it was heartening that she did manage to garner some respect from the Mages of the Rebellion holed up in Redcliffe Castle. No doubt her future held another trip to the Hinterlands.

"Cheer up, Shiny," Varric pulled her from her musings with a gruff endearment of concern.

Her smile broke the corners of her lip from their downward dive. She watched as he settled in to lean against the rail of the boat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is that my new nickname?" she asked from her seat on the base of the bowsprit.

"Well I can't keep calling you 'kid' now that you're moving up in the world," his warm tone thawed her dour mood, "If I had kept calling you 'kid' someone would have heard and then they'd never think of you as anything more."

Enya considered the dwarf before her, her smile broadening at his thoughtful words, "I suppose, then, it is good that you've found something else to call me." She paused and then added, "Shiny?"

Varric shrugged and nodded at her hand, "I'd like to claim it was from some amazing insight, but…I'm afraid it's as simple as your mark. It gets Shiny when we get near a rift."

She lifted her hand before her and then closed her fingers around it, "Well, I'm glad it could serve as your inspiration."

A chuckle escaped Varric, "Or something like that," he grew quiet.

Enya grinned and then stared off over the rest of the boat. She spotted Cassandra perched on the steps that lead to the upper deck. The Seeker stared at the back of her hands with a tension setting her jaw in a firm line. As Enya watched, the woman rubbed her hands together, thumbs pressing into the roots of her forefingers. She felt a stab of sympathy for her companion. The sense of betrayal that other woman felt was very familiar. Her eyes travelled on to find the sailors of their ship struggled with the lines that tethered the sails. Solas watched them, leaning against the starboard rail. He had seemed less than surprised by their unsuccessful venture and she wondered how he was able to hope for their success and yet be so realistic about their presence in Thedas.

"What do you make of what happened in the square, Varric?" Enya turned to him.

The dwarf let out a long sigh, shifting from foot to foot, "People who spend most of their time talking rarely get anywhere," he paused, "And Orlais is a terrible place to make friends."

Shifting her position, she gazed down at the rail under her hands, fingers tracing the wood.

Varric's elbow collided with her side, "Andraste's breath, I said to cheer up and there you go getting all misty-eyed on me. It's not all bad, Shiny. Just don't let the small stuff get to you. That's what gets you killed."

She smiled at him, "Thanks Varric."

Enya glanced off at the distant horizon and thought she could see a glint of green tinging the sky where the emerald Fade bled through into Thedas. Haven lay below that mark she knew, but it would be a day's climb up a windy slope to get there. Anticipation leapt in her stomach and she hoped that the journey to the Inquisition camp would be just as swift as it the journey to Val Royeux. After her encounter with the Chantry, she wished for nothing more than the comforts of familiar ground.

Haven's banners flapped, snapping and cracking in the harsh mountain gale that tore up the slopes as they reached their hold. The horses on which they rode had all but given up, despite their much improved stature and build to the plow animals they'd ridden to the Hinterlands before. In snow, that in some of the passes build drifts to reach their chests, they had pushed valiantly on to bear their riders home. Enya felt the seething mass of intense guilt as they rode through these places but she knew that it would be of little help if she were to dismount and lead her steed on through the pass. They would lose not only time but very likely bodies if such a sacrifice were made. Instead, the party members drew their cloaks around them and endured until the worst of the storm had passed and they broke the white wall of snow to see their home appearing through the crystalline zephyrs.

Enya leapt from her horse, pulled the saddle from her back and handed her to a groom. She would have liked to care for her herself, but there was an order to how things were done and they would be needed at the Chantry as soon as they were able. Cassandra fell into step next to her and together they made their way through the village to the former place of worship that was the Inquisitions headquarters. Neither even bade their companions farewell, so frozen were their minds and mouths. Each took a door and pushed it inward. They shed their cloak at the door; someone collected the wind-hardened garments.

Josephine, clearly waiting for their returned, stepped from behind a pillar to approach them. Unlike many of the Inquisition's leaders, she was not trained in concealment. Enya could easily see upon her face an expression of relief was displayed in the release of tense muscles and the spring in her stride as she moved toward them.

"It is good to see you here and safe," she commented as all three drew to a halt.

"Safe?" Cassandra intoned.

"My agents sent word ahead to tell us what had occurred in Val Royeux, of course," Leliana and Cullen strode down the chantry toward them, coming to a stand just before them.

"I cannot believe the Templars abandoned their post in the capital," Cullen crossed his arms.

Enya noticed the lines in his face drew tight over his cheekbones and rumpled in his forehead in an expression of troubled concern.

He continued, "It is very unlike the Order to simply cast aside their oath in favor of glory."

"I thought the same," Cassandra replied, "No doubt you have heard it was the Lord Seeker who lead them."

Leliana nodded, "A curious change in character for him, from what I can recall. Something certainly worth investigating."

The downturn of her lips betrayed her true feelings on the matter though her voice remained light. Whatever made the Inquisition's Spymaster nervous was certainly worth notice, Enya realized, for it was at these words that she felt the tension in the room rise.

"I agree; he was not himself." Cassandra stared into a walk again, moving the conversation in the direction of the war room, "Our interaction, however, was no accident. He wanted us to know he was taking the Templars from Val Royeux. I can feel it."

Cullen followed, "If that is true then perhaps we have an opportunity. If Lord Seeker Lucius was grandstanding then he might find that the men that follow him lose faith in his cause. Surely many of the Templar order will see his quest as foolish."

"Well placed agents could identify these people, and inform us of those we could address," Leliana suggested.

"Or," Josephine glided skillfully into the conversation, "We could simply use the nobles in Thedas to keep an eye on his whereabouts and identify his new location for the order. The Templars have always held a place of honor in society. They will be happy to oblige the will of Orlesian nobles if we send them to their doorstep."

Enya made her way through the taller individuals as Cullen pushed open the large wooden door to the war room. She stepped through it without a seconds though and then turned as she reached the table, "I feel as though we are forgetting that the mages are also an option, if even, a far more likely asset for closing the Breach," she paused, "Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us as we left the market for the docks. She invited the Inquisition to Redliffe to meet with the rebellion."

"The leader of the Mage Rebellion approached you personally in Val Royeux?" Cullen's tone swelled with incredulity.

Leliana seemed equally offput by this bit of information, "That seems very unlike the Grand Enchanter. Fiona is not a foolish woman."

"Had I not seen it with my own eyes," Cassandra interjected, "I would find is hard to believe as well."

"She seemed quite set on our meeting," Enya argued, "Perhaps the Mages are more desperate that we yet realize. Perhaps they hope to strike up an alliance with the Inquisition before we can side with the Templars in this fight."

Josephine's face shifted into a smile of surprise, "That is not unlikely. The Mages would see us as an impartial third party at this point. It may be to our advantage to take them on."

"And they are in much greater need of support than the Templars," Leliana agreed, "An alliance with them would win us loyal allies."

Cullen held up a hand as they gathered around the table in the war room, "Now let's just give this a moment. You're not actually suggest that we give them full partnership with the Inquisition, are you Leliana?"

A sour expression crossed the spymaster's face, "That," she paused, punctuating the word, "Is exactly what I am suggesting. They are a strong ally and giving them the freedom to practice their magic as they will want is the only way to truly guarantee their loyalty."

Cullen slammed a fist down on the table, "Have you forgotten what happened in Ferelden, Kirkwall?"

His voice was strained. Enya could see a touch of panic coloring his light eyes and realized that his aversion to mages must be more than his background as a Templar.

"No one," Leliana's paused, punctuating her word, "has forgotten the Circle of Ferelden and the war will not let us forget what happened in Kirkwall, it is unfair for us to throw away the chance to give mages freedom simply because one mage might become possessed."

The slight curl of the spymaster's lip betrayed the control of her tone. Enya was never more wary of this woman though there was a part of her that doubted this would be the last time that she would feel this way in the Left Hand's presence.

"It is not an 'if' or a 'might' Leliana, it is a when," Cassandra spoke, "So many mages together in Haven could be a threat for the whole Inquisition. And I am not certain we have the men to handle the danger an abomination would present."

"They deserve to be given a chance," Enya broke her silence, "If everyone keeps avoiding, abusing and ostracizing mages then why shouldn't they fight back? Its no different than the attitude toward the People." She crossed her arms and stared hard at the Inquisition's leaders, "I say we at least take up Fiona's offer of a conversation; give them the chance to explain what we gain by allying with them and see how they propose we handle such situations as abominations. Then we can decide whether or not the risk is worth taking."

The room was silent for a long moment. Enya breathed slightly more heavily, for her words had fallen from her mouth in a heated rush. She was tired of the arguing, of the back and forth. Circular arguments were not going to help her mend the Breach. As was often the case, it was Cassandra who broke the silence, voice even and reasoned as ever.

"Very well. But I will not allow you to go on your own," She fixed Enya with a stern stare, "The Mages may not have such noble motives as sealing the Breach."

Enya nodded in agreement. There was always the possibility that they were being tricked, but sometimes chances had to be taken. Quiet and careful as she sometimes might be, a modicum of daring flowed through her as well, overpowering the calculations of risk that flooded her mind lie spring thaws overflowed rivers.

"That is a chance I am willing to take," she lifted her hand to look at it and then dropped it to her side. The prickling skin on her forearm betrayed the focus of every eye in the room on her movement, "We need their power to close the Breach."

The air gushed noisily from Cullen's lungs as he let out a tight sigh, "There is nothing I can say that will dissuade you from this is there?"

The harshness of her words came back to her in the defeated tone of his voice and she almost regretted the anger that had fueled them. Almost. The room's collective silence seemed enough of an answer for him. She watched as his hands came to rest on his sword in what seemed a gesture of self-comfort.

"Very well," The Inquisitions general crossed to the door, "I will gather what few Templars have joined us and make certain they are prepared. Perhaps we can train a few others…"

His final words slipped through the waning crack of the door. Enya watched a glance pass between the Inquisition's ambassador and spymaster. Their concern was audible.

Cassandra sighed as she addressed Leliana, "I will speak with him."

"That might be best," Josephine agreed.

As the Leaders of the Inquisition left the room, Enya was left with the distinct and irritating impression that she was missing a vital piece of information. She had little time to consider this for as she departed, Leliana fell into stride next to her.

"There is another matter of business I wondered if you might address," the spymaster spoke up and her unique mix of Orlesian and Ferelden show particularly prominent in the cadence of her words, "You know of the Grey Wardens, yes?"

"Only that Ferelden was saved by a Dalish Warden," Enya glanced at her, "They are trained to fight the Blights."

Leliana nodded, "Yes. I have received disturbing new of late. My scouts report to me that the Wardens have been disappearing. Of course there were few in Ferelden to begin with, the Hero of Ferelden being one of them, but the Wardens of Orlais, of the Free Marches, even Weisshaupt? They have not been seen since just before the explosion at the Conclave."

Enya fixed her under a sharp stare, "You believe there is a connection."

"I do not want to think it of such a prestigious order but," The Spymaster came to a halt at the Chantry doors, gazing out into the valley beyond Haven, "The other believe I am grasping for any explanation for the Divine's death. They may be right," she lowered her eyes for a moment and then turned back to Enya, "But we cannot dismiss every possibility.

Enya shook her head, "I do not think that it is an impossibility," she paused, "What favor did you want of me?"

"Though I said my scouts had reported little to me on Wardens, that is not entirely true. I have located one, a man by the name of Blackwall, who has been seen trying to help farmers in the Hinterlands. I would very much like for you to find and speak with him," Leliana's voice tingle with the air of one daring to hope as she continued, "Perhaps he could put my mind at ease."

"I will do what I can," Enya bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"That is all I can ask, Herald."

The Inquisition's Spymaster let out a sign as the repose of duty cast her features in quiet determination. Enya watched her as she stepped beyond the Chantry's threshold into the crisp, blizzarding mountain air. It was only later that she recalled that the bard often mentioned traveling with Sir Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden was, in fact, the woman who headed their division of intrigue.

Enya was loath to step out into the wind again. Her skin remembered all to fondly the bite of its teeth as they ascended the mountains in a desparate bid to return home before nightfall. Then, just as her toe hovered on the meeting of stone and dirt, the Antivan lilt of Josephine drew her back into the blessed warmth of the Chantry.

"Mistress Lavellan?"

She turned and let the guards shut the great doors behind her as she walked back up the aisle to meet the Ambassador. The woman was holding her writing board with an ease that seemed uncanny given the unnaturalness of the object, but it was likely she had used such a tool for years.

"I was hoping I could speak with you about your heritage."

Josephine guided her toward the small at the left of the end of the Chantry. Inside was a desk, a table some books and an elf in Circle robes pouring over what might have been the canine of some large creature. Enya glanced at it for a moment, recognizing the perfect straightness as the tooth of a wyvern.

Josephine settled into her chair and turned to speak with her, "There are many people in Thedas who fear you. Those that do not believe you are the Herald, blame you…well I supposed you've already seen this first hand so there is little need for me to recount it for you," she toyed with a red-feather quill she drew from the well of black in before her, "We have not discouraged the rumors that you are the Herald of Andraste, but it has become apparent that many who are skeptical about the legend are concerned that you are…" words seemed to fail the ambassador at that moment.

Enya had little trouble understanding her silent words however, "Because I am an elf."

"That is the basics yes," the antivan lady affirmed, "I hoped that I could perhaps find out a little of your past so that I might spread the word. The other races of Thedas know so little of the Dalish it is hard for them to comprehend you beyond the stories they hear of clans."

She had not heard many stories of the Dalish from the humans but the few that she had painted pictures of blood-spattered bandits and child-eating mongrels, none of which carried any sort of truth beyond the obvious tinge of Shemlan fear. It had been weeks since she had used, or even thought, the word and she held her tongue even now. Despite her curiosity to know what tall tales had been told of her, Enya refrained.

"What would you have them know, Lady Montilyet?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

Josephine's turned her head to the side and tucked her chin just the tiniest bit toward herself in consideration of Enya. A shadow of a smile twisted her lips for a moment as though she had discovered a dangerous secret but in moments, Enya could not prove it had been there at all.

"Your clan lives near the City-State of Wycome in the Free Marches at present. Is that where you have always lived?"

Enya licked her lips and shook her head, "Once we lived in a forest at the edge of Nevarra. I was very young then, but I remember the trees had bark like paper. They smelled of some sharp spice." She shook her head, trying in vain to recall the name but it would not come to her.

"It sounds as though you miss it." Josephine's eyes carried a distinctly maternal intelligence that reminded Enya for a moment of a Keeper.

Enya inclined her head affirming the statement, "There was a human in the village nearby who lost his sheep to a wounded wolf our clan's hunters killed. The damage had been done though. The village blamed the knife-eared vagrants and attacked us in the night."

The ambassador's horrified gasp quelled the fire in Enya's voice. Bitterness was an old enemy of the Dalish, overshadowed only by their Pride. She paused, drew a breath, and continued.

"Most of us survived; Lavellan has always been a clan of strong hunters," She lowered her eyes, brow pinched and anger blazing through the emerald of her irises, "My mother died that day…and my brother," Enya drew a breath that rattled her lungs as she glanced up at Josephine, "But we survived. The Dalish always survive."

The ambassador's lips were parted the tiniest amount, as though she had not noticed that they were even open at all. There was something in the blankness of her face that reminded Enya just exactly what she said, and though regret plagued her, it was overshadowed by determined flames of pride. This was her history after all, and there was no need for her to feel ashamed for telling the truth, even if it had shocked this kind Antivan to her core.

"I…" Josephine stammered for a moment but then her years of diplomacy overcame her timidity, "I am apologize deeply for prying, Your Worship," she placed her crimson quill down on the desk, "Perhaps we can continue this another time, then?"

Enya shook her head, "No. We can finish this now. You already have me talking."

A huff exploded from the ambassador and for a moment her expression bordered on cross. She nodded in consent and picked up the feather, "Very well. After you left Nevarra, did you go to Wycome?"

"We travelled for a time."

Enya's words carried on into the afternoon as she explained the finer details of her travels to the Antivan woman. Josephine listened in rapt interest, her quill stilling after a time. Aware of her captive audience, Enya found herself embellishing the detail, going beyond simple facts. She remembered the times she'd listened to her mother's tales as a small child, running about the wood, racing the halla and described moments with the clarity of a painting, down to the simplest detail. This woman, she realized, was the only person of the Inquisition's leaders who had never accused her of treachery, never suggested she was false. For her, Enya would tell the truth.