a/n- So, I'm trying to speed up the story just a little bit. From here on out, the ball really gets going as far as plot in the game goes. I mean, we're coming up on the main turning point for the Inquisition. However, the story will slow down again after reaching Skyhold because I want to really show interaction between the characters and give you readers an idea of the intense headcannons that exist in my head. I have lots planned out for this and for the sequel story "Halam'shivanas" which...don't read if you don't want spoilers for this story? Anyway, I'll be quiet now and let you guys read. (and review, if you would be so inclined. I always love constructive criticism.)
Walk in the Light
Dorian was a particularly capable tormentor. As they sat about the campfire, he managed to needle Cassandra and several other soldiers to the point of speechlessness with his sardonic commentary. The Seeker responded in kind, though her words failed to penetrate the self-possessed confidence that surrounded the Tevinter mage like armour. Enya sighed and smiled as she took a drink of ale from the bottle being passed around the fire. She grimaced, for it taste like nothing more than dirt, and scalded her throat on the way down. Passing it to the nearest of Leliana's scouts with an obligatory nod of gratitude, she was at least happy that the warmth of the liquid translated to the rest of her body.
The colder the nights grew, the more trepidation Enya felt, the more pressure to close the Breach, free Thedas from its oppressive presence once and allow it to worry about more mundane matters. Still, the warm glow of their campfire banished these worries from her mind. Perhaps the ale had a hand in that as well. She didn't drink much, and now she was wondering if it was even advisable for her to have taken as great a swig as she had. Her head hummed faintly, blurring the edges of her thoughts with a comforting haze. Enya decided that after her trip into the future, this was what she needed to allow the ghosts of that alternate time to fade from her memory at least for the night.
Enya focused instead on her success. The Mages were allied with Inquisition, they would help her close the Breach, the sooner the better. It would take Fiona a few days if not a week to gather her mages to sufficient order and move them to Haven, but after that. A swell of excitement filled Enya's chest. With the Breach closed, she would be free to return home, to her clan, her family or what was left of it.
She pictured them, her foolish trickster of a brother, Erassan, grinning ear to ear as he dropped from a tree to frighten her on the hunt. She never failed to reprimand him when she was around, but now she longed for his mischievous irreverence. And then there was Alshasa, the wild one, First to keeper Deshanna, replacing their mother. Enya thought of her with greater regret, for when Deshanna had chosen Enya to journey to the Conclave, Alshasa had taken it as a slight. It was a keeper's duty to preserve history after all. Her younger sister and she had always held a close relationship, though it was prone to explosive disagreement on Alshasa's part. Where Enya was calmer, more rational, Alshasa's temper flared with ease. This was echoed through her fiery magic. They had parted in silence.
She retired to her tent before the others, drawn to the relative peace it offered. Cassandra joined her not long after, weary of Dorian's drunken sarcasm. As Enya laid on her bedroll under the canopy of the tent she and Cassandra shared, she wondered whether returning to her clan was truly what she wanted. Deshanna had been adamant that she share all that she learned, and certainly there would be much to tell, but now that she had slipped beyond that boundary, forded the river, she wondered if she could ever be satisfied with shutting herself off from the world as her Clan did. Could she let the rest of the world pass by without a second glance, save for the most important events if it meant caring for her people again?
She jumped as Cassandra murmured in her sleep. Enya didn't bother to decode the jumbled speech. Dreams were private affairs after all. She lay on her back on the bed roll and felt her hand tingle, a constant reminder of who she was now. Even returning to her clan would not allow her to escape. And yet it could not be called an escape, not truly, for there was nothing she would be fleeing. Once she might have been a captive of Cassandra, but a month of fighting side by side had built a tenuous friendship, perhaps one of necessity, but all the same it was there. And Varric, he and she were tied by their unwilling introduction and she valued his humoured comments and his caring nature. Then there was Leliana, who had defended her even when it was thought she'd killed the Divine, a woman the Inquisition's spymaster clearly loved and admired. Josephine had spent countless hours tutoring her on customs, even though she had a mountain of her own diplomatic work as tall as the highest Frostbacks. Cullen, who had objected to this mission in part because of the danger to her.
Enya sighed, whispering a silent wish that the alcohol she'd consumed would have the same blissful effect it had on everyone else in their company. She could hear their leaden snores and envied their solace. Then, of course, there was Solas. She still could not describe what she thought of the bare-faced elven apostate, save that he was more intelligent and more observant than any elf she'd ever met. Most cared far too much for themselves or their clan's well-being to take in anything else in the world. Being away from her clan had brushed the wool from her eyes; on that subject, he was right. He called her lethallan. The honorific was meant for close friends and family but Enya thought he used it to keep respect between them. Despite this separation, she sensed he also meant the closeness implied.
Enya bit her lip and sat cross-legged brushing aside the bear-skin that served as a shield against the cold of the waning autumn night. Cassandra didn't move as she hitched the bear-skin blanket around her shoulders and slipped out into the moonlight night. Enya settled on the crest of a hill under a tall tree. Gazing up, her head against the trunk of the tree, she peered at its barren branches silhouetted against the silver orb that hung in the sky.
Mythal made the moon, keeper Deshanna had told her once when she was a child, she gathered the last of the sun's light from the surface of the water and placed it in the sky so that the Elvhen would have light when the sun went away. Enya smiled as the cool white light bathed her face and fell asleep there against the tree when the brush of the moon's rays finally hushed her turbulent thoughts.
The Inquisition horses slipped on the path, their hooves filled with snow that had melted and then stuck to their ragged soles. A gust dusted them with the damp brittle needles of the mountain pines, their trunks bent under the weight of newfallen powder. Enya dismounted as they reached the stable and hesitated before releasing the tired mare into the stable boy's care. He was capable, but it still felt wrong to hand the duty to another.
Master Harrit argued loudly with one of his apprentices over the length of time one must quench a blade for it to be properly tempered. A loud crash sounded as he struck the afformentioned blade against the anvil on which it had been hammered. The blade snapped with a dreadful twang. The stench of hot oil wafted over on a hiss as the other apprentice quenched the blade he had been forging.
Haven was as busy as ever, once inside the gates. Seggritt negotiated prices with Minaeve's tranquil assistant. A Chantry sister called out a verse from the Chant of light. Maryden's, the bard sang a song in the tavern and though the words were lost, its melody drifted out with the golden hearth light through the windows. A soldier sitting on log next to Varric's tent complained to his comrade of a hangover.
Enya sympathized. She had taken more than that one drink at the fire in her haste to wash away the memories from the future that was no more. Though she doubted her pain was in any way close to his, given the puce tinge of his cheeks, she still regretted the decision.
Leliana all but rushed to their side as she and Cassandra approached the Chantry.
"Well?" she asked, "I understand that the Inquisition has new allies."
Enya smirked, "News travels fast."
"For those who know where to listen," A light smile cracked Leliana's pout, "I will send a runner to Cullen. He took a contingent down to patrol the Temple of Sacred Ashes this morning. He should be back soon."
Enya acknowledged with a nod. Leliana walked with them toward the Chantry. The spymaster gestured to a scout that leaned against one of the building's great buttresses. Cassandra's face was inscrutable, an expression Enya had taken to mean that she was dealing with a difficult decision. The Seeker took notice of her attention as they waited for Leliana to return.
"You cannot decide what you think of our alliance," Enya supplied, meeting Cassandra's gaze.
"No." Cassandra's hand fell on the hilt of her longsword, "I do not trust the mages, Herald. But it is better they are our allies than our enemies." She paused, her lip falling into a decisive line, "Even so, I have difficulty looking beyond the foolishness of this arrangement."
Enya sighed and flexed her hands, looking out to the snow-capped peaks of the Frostbacks as though they might offer her guidance.
"I can understand your concern Cassandra, but not every mage is a blood mage," Enya supplied.
"Of that I am aware," Cassandra replied, "But it is hard to relinquish old judgements when recent history supports them. I still believe we should have conscripted them?"
Enya opened her mouth to reply but Leliana's returned ended the conversation. The three entered through the Chantry's great doors. Warmth and the smell of burning incense assaulted Enya as she entered the tiny nave. Josephine greeted them before they even reached her office.
"Leliana, the Comtess of Val Fermin is complaining of…" that Antivan ambassador trailed off and fixed them with a delicate smile, "You have returned! I trust Redcliffe proved successful?"
Enya nodded, "The mages will help us with the Breach."
Josephine's smile glowed at this news.
Cullen arrived only moments later. A cloud of concern followed him. He strode up the Chantry, long strides closing the distance with greater haste than Enya would have thought possible in his armour.
"You're back from Redcliffe, then?"
Enya recounted their tale, though she left the details of the future herself and Dorian had experienced vague, for she had no real desire to relive them. When she announced the alliance she had negotiated with the mages, she watched Josephine and Cullen's expressions shift. For Josephine, stress tightened her shoulders and weighed down the corners of her lips, which she pursed in thought. A flush of fear filled Cullen's eyes, only to be replaced in an instant with tight-lipped determination.
"That is a great risk, Herald. At the best of times, mages are vulnerable to possession and these are not those. There will be abominations and we must be prepared."
"I don't want them to feel like the Inquisition is just another Circle, Cullen," Enya argued.
His hand swung down, emphasizing his words as he spoke them, "This is not a matter for debate. We have too few Templars here to deal with this threat."
Josephine stepped shook gestured toward the ground, shaking her hand, "We must appear a united force Cullen. Rescinding the offer of an alliance would make the Inquisition seem incompetent at best, duplicitous at worst."
Cullen let out a growl and rounded on Enya, "What were you thinking, offering the mages freedom? Their actions at Redcliffe alone prove that they cannot be trusted."
"They deserve a chance to prove that they are not what everyone thinks them to be, Cullen. Conscription would not allow that. They would be seen as nothing more than powerful pawns to the rest of Thedas. I won't stand for that." Enya lifted her chin, her nostrils flared.
He turned to Cassandra, "And you? I know you have seen first-hand the damage blood mages and abominations can do. And with the Veil torn open? How could you let this happen?"
The accusation shocked Enya, but her impulse to defend the Seeker proved unnecessary.
"I may not agree with the terms of the Herald's arrangement," Cassandra met Enya's gaze, "but I support it," she turned back to Cullen, "Closing the Breach is the Herald's first priority and we required the mages' power to accomplish this task. Though there may be risk, the Herald has acquired their aid. Giving them freedom within the Inquisition gives them reason to be grateful."
From the shadows, in corner of the Chantry, Dorian's voice chimed in, "Ah, the voice of pragmatism speaks. And I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."
His interruption drew all attention to him. With a smirk, he waved toward them, "Oh don't stop on my account. Please. Continue."
Josephine's scornful eyes lingered on Dorian as Cassandra turned back to them.
"Closing the Breach is all that matters." The Seeker stated with finality.
Enya nodded, "We've seen the damage the Breach can cause. Alexius will not be the only person to try to profit from its presence. The longer it is open, the more this world will feel its effects. We should gather our forces and head to the Temple the moment Fiona and the rebel mages arrive."
"Agreed," Josephine nodded, her expression of distaste replaced by the clear lines of purpose,
"This future you saw, the assassination of Empress Celene, a demon army…" Leliana turned to Enya.
"I know no more than what I've already said," Even now, she could see the agony sunken eyes of the other Leliana juxtaposed over the spymaster's thoughtful face, "But if these events never come to pass, it could be that the Elder One will be that much more crippled."
"Sounds like something a crazed Tevinter cult would do." Dorian interjected, "Orlais falls. The Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone."
For a man who was not entirely included in this conversation, Dorian seemed unphased by the group's worn expressions. Silence fell, broken by the raising of Cullen's hands.
"Let us fight one battle at a time," he implored, "This is hardly the place for planning military action. We should take this to the war room." He fixed Enya with an inviting gaze then, and odd contrast to his previous mood, "You should join us, Herald. Without your mark, none of this would mean anything."
If she had expected such an invitation, Cullen was not the person she would have anticipated offering it. Given his anger at her decisions previously, it seemed almost unthinkable that he would acknowledge her value.
Hoping she was successful in concealing her surprise, Enya inclined her head to him, "Thank you, Cullen. It would be an honour."
"Seeing as I've not been invited, I think it would be imprudent for me to attend," Dorian quipped, "But I would like the chance to see this fabled Breach up close, if you'll allow."
Enya quirked her eyebrow, "You're staying, then?"
Dorian's voice was so serious, she almost believed him when he replied, "Didn't I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little bits."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Josephine raise a finger to her mouth as she bit back a giggle.
Enya straightened, "I would think the Inquisition too idealistic an order for you."
"And what is wrong with a little idealism?" he asked, though now he really did grow serious, "No one knows better the dangers we face that you and I, Herald. If I can help the Inquisition prevent that world from ever happening, then I will gladly commit my talents to its service."
She gave him a soft smile, "Then the Inquisition welcomes your aid, Dorian."
"Good! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm rather tired. All that trekking up mountains, you know."
They waited until the Chantry doors closed behind him before continuing.
"If you need me, I will be in the war room, making preparations for our march to the summit. We cannot afford surprises." Cullen gave them all a half-bow and set off.
"He is right. Our advantage is too tenuous to risk. If this Elder One were to realize what we plan, we might lose the only chance we have," Leliana bowed to them as well, "I must coordinate with my men." She too bowed to them and departed.
"If I might have a word, Herald." Josephine shook her head toward her office.
"Of course, Ambassador," Enya fell into step next to her as they moved down the Chantry, "What was that you mentioned to Leliana earlier?"
"Hmmm? Oh! An Orlesian comtess we thought might be sympathetic to the Inquisition's cause responded to our missive as though it were a threat. She's started spreading rumors among the Orlesian court." Josephine smiled as she explained.
Enya's mouth fell open at her nonchalance, "You call that nothing?"
Josephine waved her hand, "The Comtess of Val Fermin's whispers are nothing compared to those spread by the Chantry."
Enya's heart sunk, "Then nothing I've done has made a difference."
"Oh no, Herald. Quite the contrary," Josephine set a few of the paper that rested on her writing board down into the pile on her desk. "The initial opposition the Grand Clerics had toward you has abated. The more you've done in Ferelden, settling the Hinterlands, disintegrating the mage and Templar strongholds have earned you credit and allowed those that doubt to see you for who you truly are." The ambassador paced, "But, the people need their Chantry to stand united in support or against you. Instead, the remaining clerics quarrel with each other, and the People of Thedas search for a new place to turn in the absence of faith."
In the times when disaster struck Enya's clan, she found herself praying to the Creators for their guidance. Even though she knew they would not answer, had been locked away by the Dread Wolf in his desire for power, she had found comfort in the act.
"Don't they see that they are needed?" she asked.
Josephine shook her head, "If they do, then they are ignorant or incompetent and do not believe that to be true. Instead, the fail to see that the turmoil they experienced at the Divine's death is felt by the rest of Thedas. And without the Chantry…" the ambassador trailed off.
"Surely, there is something to which the people can turn."
"Little but the Chantry unites Orlais, Ferelden, Nevarra, Antivan, even Rivain. If its influence is lost then Thedas will soon follow."
Enya stared at her hands, "I can see how a shared faith could make negotiations between strangers easier. At least then you know your ideals presumably align."
"You sound as if you know this from experience, Herald," Josephine intoned.
Enya withdrew the silvery ironbark carving of a woman with dragon's wings. Her fingers ran across the intricate ridges, polished by ages past of fingers smoothing across its surface. Mythal, the goddess whose Vallaslin she wore upon her face. She showed the little talisman to Josephine.
"I am Dalish, Amabassador, we believe in the Creators," Enya slipped the figure back under her armor and looked up, "I follow the way of the hunter, the Vir Tanadhal."
Josephine's cheeks tinged with color as she explained.
"I apologize, Herald. As I have said before, I have had little occasion to interact with your people. It is easy to forget that you are not Andrastian when so many city elves are."
Enya allowed this comment to pass by without remark. It was plain to see that Josephine was not used to making such mistakes. To press the issue would be nothing short of cruel and the Antivan noble had only ever been kind kind.
"Long has common faith held Thedas united, but now, the Chantry's inaction requires to the world to look beyond itself, to find new avenues through which bonds might be formed."
Josephine paced across the cobbled floor before Enya, the passion in her words intensified by her steps.
"It sounds as though you wish the Inquisition to be one of those avenues, Ambassador Montilyet," Enya replied, amused.
Josephine's genuine smile revealed a row of very straight, white teeth at her remark, "I am not certain it is something we can avoid." She paused and pulled a piece of paper from the bottom of the pile on her board, "To that matter, the Clerics have asked if you believe yourself to be the chosen of Andraste."
She sighed and shook her head, "I don't claim to be the chosen of anyone. Circumstance and not divine intervention are responsible for my survival of the Breach."
A shadow filled Josephine's eyes at her reply. Enya was aware the Ambassador believed she truly was Andraste's Herald but faith was not something with which she was inclined to play. Fate had already dealt her a difficult hand, she thought and an ironic pulse of pain from her mark surged up her arm in a wave.
"Nobly spoken, Herald, although I cannot be certain the Grand Clerics will accept such a modest reply." Josephine settled behind her desk, "Thank you for speaking with me, Herald. As usual, you remind me that I cannot always rely on my knowledge of Thedas politics and the Orlesian Game to predict the actions of one person."
Enya rose from where she was sitting on the bench and bowed her head to Josephine, "You give yourself too little credit, Lady Montilyet. No one else here could perform the tasks you do."
Josephine smiled, a sliver of her white teeth showing. Enya detected a gentle blush on her amber cheeks, "Perhaps you are right, but it is no matter. Walk in the Maker's light, Herald."