Little warning here: brief mention and description of sexual abuse. This is at the very end of the chapter and there is ((((( before the break line - yeah hum...For some reasons I just realized the original way I intended to show it doesn't work and get suppressed each time I leave the doc manager so, this is ugly, but that has the merit to stay where I put it - if you want to skip this part.
On the early afternoon the next day, a servant told her the seeker was waiting for her in the Chantry.
She was already ready and did not wait to head to the building. She looked with no small amount of irritation at the soldiers outside her cottage. Now that she thought about it, she should not have let the Seeker know attempts on her life were to be expected. At least, before she let her know she was well aware of the assassins after her, this was only scouts watching her back in a more discreet way.
She discussed quickly with Cassandra before they entered the improvised war room. Ironic, a war room in a Chantry. A new face was there. Her skin tone was giving her as an Antivan and her outfit and stance as a diplomat. She was amused to see the subtle glance the named Josephine gave her. She seemed to hesitate before nodding her greetings with a cultivated smile after Cassandra introduce her.
"Andaran Atish'an." Mahariel smirked.
"You had a hard time choosing, didn't you?" Seeing in the woman's eyes she was afraid to have offended her, she waved the thought "Just messing, Ambassador. Dhea'him." The woman soothed and smiled again as the Seeker mumbled.
"One gets used to it." Leliana looked at Mahariel.
"You speak elvhen too."
"I had to do something expected at some point, didn't I? Speaking of expected things, let me guess, what would be a triumvirate without a Spymaster?" The Nightingale smiled slightly.
"Touché, once more. A pity you are already Herald, you would be an invaluable spy." Mahariel smirked.
"Subtle, but who here doubted I was one?"
She felt the gaze of Josephine on her neck as she spoke. Of course, an Antivan would recognized the typical curved lines of the Crows tattoos. She turned to her.
"Ask away, Ambassador, I could even answer." Josephine's eyes widened once more, not aware her glance had been that obvious. It would not have been for most, on her behalf.
"My apologies, Herald. The tattoo on your neck seemed familiar – "
"Of course, it does, you are Antivan. Who better than an Antivan would recognize it?" Leliana nodded, thoughtful.
"It was the Crows. I have been wondering if it was only typical of them or spread in all Antiva." Cassandra and Cullen's eyes widened. The Seeker exclaimed.
"You are a Crow?!" Mahariel crossed her arms, amused.
"A guild rarely chases its own members, Seeker. Or do you think I would have confessed being an assassin sent to the Divine Conclave that easily?" Leliana commented.
"Or at least, a guild rarely chases its current members." Mahariel smirked and gave a nod of appreciation. This little bard fight was awfully entertaining. A pity the warriors here were that eager to see that game come to an end.
"Food for thoughts, isn't it? Let's come back to the main topic which certainly was not my tattoos."
The discussion came back to the main issues, knowing how to close the Breach. That involved coming back on the endless debate of these last years in the South: The Mage-Templar War. Mahariel listened carefully, not sure what to think. When the conflict began in 9:37, she was in Orlais, but she did not wonder much about it. She had always been an apostate after all, she had no true idea of how the mages were treated in the Circles. She had simply hidden her magic when she was in the cities. However, she reached the Imperium one year later, in 9:38 and she had had a good view of what was a country ruled by mages. And she was not impressed. Somehow, she had the feeling the Dalish had the right way of handling magic. But, she has to admit, it only worked because there could not be more than three mages in a Clan. Their way could never be applied to all Thedas and, besides, one forgets too often to mention the Dalish mages born once the quota were reached. She raised an eyebrow when the topic moved to her lovely new title. She commented with no small amount of sarcasm.
"How am I the Herald of Andraste?" She rested her tattoo arm on the table to emphasize the ridicule of the thought. It did not seem to disturb the Seeker.
"People saw what you did at the Temple. How you stopped the Breach from growing. They also heard of the woman seen in the rift when we first find you. They believe, that was Andraste."
"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading – "Took over Leliana.
"Which we have not." Noticed a firm Cassandra.
"The point is everyone is talking about you."
"It is quite the title, isn't it? How do you feel about that?" Intervened Cullen. How nice of you to ask. She smiled faintly.
"Already getting a headache to be honest. I'm no Herald of any deities, besides."
She dismissed the thought with a gesture. That was ridiculous but not her main concern. Everyone is talking about you…That's not good, not more for me than them. She knew Leliana was looking for any kind of emotion on her face. She felt a bit guilty: these people were trying to do the right thing. She respected that. And they ended up having to work with a criminal wanted in all Orlais. And, possibly in the near future, by Par Vollen. And Tevinter, if the Imperium put the pieces together. Well…Shit. Good thing they were currently in Ferelden. She will have to come up with a strategy. Quickly. The discussion had resumed and they were getting to what they needed from her. Meeting a Chantry Mother in the Hinterlands. She felt once more the glance of Josephine along her arm.
"Looking for a way to sell that as your blessed Herald, Ambassador?" Unnerving the Antivan was as easy as it was fun. Leliana rescued her friend.
"I think Josephine concerns where for your well-being. Isn't this armor too light for the weather of Wintermarch?" She took her Orlesian accent and bowed humbly.
"What an endearing genuine concern, my ladies. I shall reassure you, the weather is no trouble to me." Her face grew serious "When am I to leave to meet this Mother?"
"The sooner, the better. I will accompany you." Answered Cassandra with a sparkle of appreciation for her eagerness to act.
"I thought as much."
"My people will leave tonight to clear the path. I suggest you leave the day after tomorrow. First lights." Added Leliana. Mahariel nodded.
"Agreed."
Varric and Solas joined them for the travel to the Hinterlands. Mahariel eventually agreed to wear her other armor instead of her antaam-saar. She did not intend to wear it either way. It was her favorite spying outfit, offering the most freedom of movement and its lightness was good for discretion. However, troubles were to be expected and, unless the Qunari wearing the armor in battle, her skin was not as thick and the fabric was hardly protective.
The Seeker, Spymaster and Ambassador did not seem more pleased with her other armor, however. It was more covering – not like less was really possible – but sleeveless on the left. There were silver chains on her shoulder, covering the Qunari banner. It looked pretty much like a sturdy enchanter armor, except for that. The leather was dark red and the fabric black. Her silver gauntlets were forming claws on her fingers. Her hood was black with silver lining. She had altered the lines of the Crows tattoo – even if it was barely seeable – with dark red war-paint, making it looks like another Imperial dragon. Her vallaslin were once more hidden with war-paint but in a subtler way, a circular symbol echoing the circle of Magi one on her chin and curved lines entwined on her forehead. She still wore her dragon earring winding around her pointed ear.
On her behalf, she looked apologetic for the armor, explaining she had only the antaam-saar and this one. The spymaster pointed out she did not have to go for the whole Imperial look. Mahariel shrugged and answered that better full Imperial look than Imperial armor, Crows symbol and Qunari war-paint. Being seen as a vint was not the best thing, clearly, but it was always better to be acknowledged as something. It gave the impression to the people they knew who they were facing and it reassured them. The Spymaster had to agree with this point.
"I take it you intend to approach Mother Giselle with your Tevinter accent?"
"Slight one, likely tainted with a bit of Fereldan." Leliana nodded appreciatively.
"As would be the one of a Tevinter exile for several years." Mahariel smirked.
"How easily people would assume this person left the Imperium willingly and condemn the abuses of its countrymen, I wonder?"
They walked mostly in silence. They had no horses – one of the reasons they desperately needed to reach the Hinterlands and their horse-master – and the quick pace was hard enough without them losing their breathe with banters. The travel was to take a week and a half. They were to arrive there by the last week of Wintermarch.
On the sixth night of the travel, Solas was on last watch when he heard a twig crack nearby. He frowned. There was no wind. Remembering the mention of several assassins sent after the Herald already, he decided it was worth investigating. He stood from the rock he was sitting on and listened carefully. Except for the regular breath of the three others sleeping, there was nothing. He wandered a bit further in the woods nearby. He put a barrier around him as a precaution. He spotted a glimpse of shadow. He was about to ring the alarm to the others when the assassin came out of the shadow, blade against his throat, immobilizing his arms in his back. The man whispered in his ear.
"Where is she?"
Solas' nose wrinkled with irritation against himself. He should have sensed him and he should be able to petrify him even in this posture. But he was so weak since he awaked, he failed at the first and couldn't proceed the second. Fenedhis lasa. He remained perfectly silent, knowing his barrier will protect him either way. The deep antivan accent resumed with an arrogant snort
"Your silence gives you away, elf. You know who I am talking about."
"I do not. She is vague as an indication." 'Twas no lie, he had only a very strong hunch. He did not know for sure. The voice seemed almost impressed.
"Who would have think, People protecting her still exist. I thought you elves had abandoned such lost cause long ago. Commendable, I guess. Stupid, but commendable." Solas frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You are an elf, you know what your kind think of her. Now, tell me where she is before I cut your throat."
Solas could feel his barrier weakening. He better found a way out quickly. He was about to try something when his barrier suddenly come back to full strength.
Mahariel considered the situation in a second. She cast a barrier on Solas and went back in stealth. She sent a blade perfectly aimed on the assassin's hand to disarm him. She rushed to attack the Crow from the rear. She cut the tendon of his ankle, her sharpened dagger penetrating the leather of its boots without difficulty. As he fell on his knees, Solas spun to face him as he took a step back. The assassin tried a useless attempt to drive a blade in Mahariel's leg right in front of him but the blade bounced on the metal of her boots. She squatted behind him, holding him in the same position he had been holding Solas few seconds before. He spoke with disdain.
"So, it was true. You are back in Ferelden."
"A pity you will not be able to share this with the Guildmaster."
She cut his throat without further words. She stood and examined Solas' throat with relief.
"Are you alright?"
"I am. I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Herald." She shook her head with a scowl.
"He was here for me. You should not have been the one facing this threat. Why the hell did you go aloof from the camp?!"
"I heard a suspicious sound I considered worth investigating. I was correct." She crossed her arms.
"Yes, because being correct would have been such a consolation if he had killed you because no one was able to hear." He raised an eyebrow, annoyed.
"If he had found me in the camp, he would not have stopped to ask, considering he would have seen you and simply cut your throat without anyone having time to intervene." She snorted.
"If one could kill me so easily I would be dead by now. What did he tell you?" Still annoyed by her reaction and over-confidence, he decided to go for her own game.
"You wish you knew, don't you?" She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. I guess what matter is we are alive, he is dead."
She ignored him and squatted to loot the corpse and take back the blade she had thrown to disarm the man. She found a contract on a minor noble in his pocket. Nothing very interesting except for a little post-scriptum at the end of the description. She went through it quickly, familiar enough with the cipher. She wasn't surprised the slightest by the content. She rolled her eyes. One cannot be wanted for treason if they never were part of the Crows, you know? Stupid Antivans, could at least use the proper words. She was, however, reassured by one thing. Val Chevin. The last location they have is more than three years old. Good.
She suppressed a sigh. The Inquisition had probably found similar contracts on the corpses of might not know the cipher used as well as her, but the Nightingale will eventually break it at some point. She moved from the trees back towards the camp, not giving more attention to the mage. If he wanted to risk his life, not her issue after all. Still, she was pissed. Not her issue, but her fault in this particular situation. He could risk a deathblow as he wanted for a cause he chose to defend, but not as some collateral damage of the Crows vendetta against her.
Solas frowned deeper when she left without nor letting him see what she found nor a word. Rude. But that was even more interesting. She had not been rude to anyone yet. Unnerving, definitely, but not rude. This was the first time in two weeks she did the slightest mistake in her perfect mastery of the Game. Something displeased her enough to provoke that. The assassin himself? The letter? Himself taking the risk of stepping away? She did seem pretty irritated about that, indeed. What was she thinking? He was perfectly able of taking care of himself, he did not need her to protect him. He took offense of her low consideration of his skills. What an ungrateful arrogant brat.
If the walk had been mostly silent until now, the palpable tension between the elves did not improve it. Even Varric was thinking twice before beginning to relate a tale. On the eighth night and as they were only two days away from their destination, Mahariel took the first watch after dinner. Solas and Cassandra were already sleeping in their bedrolls when the dwarf approached the elf as she was sharpening some daggers nearby.
"What is it with Chuckles, Grey? Since we left the forest, I have the impression you are going to snap at each other throats." Her face unreadable and tone neutral, she answered.
"Nothing more than a slight disagreement." He snorted.
"How did you end up having a disagreement without exchanging a word?" Her nose wrinkled slightly. Right, they did not mention the assassin. She smirked instantly and answered with mischief.
"Elven telepathy."
"Right, avoid the topic." She sighed, tired.
"Fine. I did not mention it because Cassandra is stressed enough as she is. Another assassin came two nights ago, during his watch. Solas moved aside the camp when he heard a sound and it drew the attention of the assassin who ambushed him. I awaked meanwhile, we killed him. End of the story." Varric processed her words with wide-opened eyes. She was dealing quite well with people trying to kill her. He shook his head.
"Alright, well, didn't expect that. Don't explain why you are pissed at each other."
"I am pissed because he should not have taken the risk of moving aside if he was suspecting someone was lurking. It was ill-considered. He was lucky the assassin did not find the camp yet and wanted to question him. I don't know why he is, but I suspect he thinks I'm ungrateful and I underestimate his skills. I don't. I'm aware he is a very capable mage, but the Crows are no joke. They can take you before you even know they are here."
"Well, it was only one man, at the end."
"It was only one, but it could have been ten." She paused and her hand reached the covered tattoo of the guild on her neck. "The Crows want me, 'tis not to fulfill a contract anymore. There is only one way-out to it. It is to flee, which is out of question for now. So, they are going to have me, eventually. But that's the point: they will have me. No one else." Her face had grown grim. He looked at her sadly, processing the half-confession.
"What did you do to them, Grey?" She shook her head, her eyes sad and lost in the emptiness as her hand was still brushing the emplacement of the tattoo on her neck.
"Mystery for another day." She snorted "Look like the friendly-dwarf is a strategy who works better than I suspected for the investigation duty. You will have to make me drunk to hear anything else, mark my words."
"Fair enough. You should make peace with Chuckles, however. From what I gathered, you are pissed because he protected you and he is pissed because you are pissed." She smirked, looking back at him.
"Wonder of wonder, if you were highly irritated by the actions of some overconfident ungrateful rude person, would you be eager to risk your life on her behalf?" His eyes widened with disbelief.
"You wanted him pissed at you. Well…Shit. You tricked Chuckles." He bowed slightly "I'm impressed Grey, you are a true master." She kept her smirk without commenting. He shook his head "Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed but I still think this is stupid and you should make peace. Question, what makes you think I won't tell him?" She laughed.
"You want me to make peace and this very piece of information will irritate him even more. No one like to be played." Especially not a player kept she unsaid. "It would serve my purpose more than yours to let him know." She glanced towards Solas as she finished and suppressed a frown. Varric raised a brow.
"Not that certain, Grey. Maybe at first, but if he thinks about it twice, he would realize this is your own way of protecting people. Because this is what you do: you push people away to protect them." She smirked again.
"You assume quickly you know me, Master Tethras." He gave a lopsided smile.
"I guess we shall see that." She nodded.
"Meravas." He raised a finger.
"I know at least that for sure: you are no Qunari."
"And why that, if I may ask?" He smiled, satisfied.
"Your friend. He called you Basalit-an. Respected foreigner." If she was displeased by his declaration, she did not let it show and simply commented.
"Your best friend dueled the Arishok. A privilege only a Basali-an could have. Well done. It appears you finally are the best of you all at this game." He laughed.
"Truth be told, I had to put my nose in my own book to figure that out. I knew I heard the word before but could not recall what it meant. On this little victory of mine, goodnight Grey."
"Goodnight Varric." She waited a handful of seconds for the dwarf to go away to glance once more to Solas and speak lower "I repeat, awful habit. Anyway, nydha lethallin."
Hopefully, his back was turned to her and she did not witness his startled expression when she addressed him directly. He did not mean to eavesdrop, but the dwarf came to her before he was asleep and, considering he had been the first topic, he had been interested. For how long had she known he was listening? More interesting, how the hell did she know? He was not sure anymore how to interpret the first part of their discussion, considering. Probably exactly her purpose with these few words.
He had still in mind the sentence of the Crow as well. People protecting her still exist. I thought you elves had abandoned such lost cause long ago…You know what your kind think of her. If there was one thing he thought clear about her, it was her will to protect her people. So, not the elves? Or…Damn, he could already know for sure if these people were the elves if only he had asked a translation of her Qunlat.
But no, he had looked at her with disdain, falling for her play, asking if she was from the Qun. Odd Varric did not share this conclusion earlier by the way…Well, the dwarf seemed to like the white-hair, he might not be eager to spill her secrets. He had a hard time piecing the things together. For what he had gathered over the previous years, recent elves would not share their language with any stranger. So, she had been part of the Dalish at least long enough for them to share it and grant her vallaslin. A theory suddenly popped in his head: the Dalish had some sort of quota with mages. Yes, it could as well be that. She was born among the People but left her Clan because of too-much mages…But stayed long enough to have vallaslin? Her magic could have been late discovered. It would explain her hunter training.
He was still irritated at her, maybe even more because of his eavesdropping. Maybe it was why he had this pervert need of cracking her secrets. Being outplayed had never been something he was used to, and he definitely did not think he would find such adversary in this broken world. But, he had to admit the dwarf was not wrong and his clairvoyance had quickly soothed a bit his irritation. Her pride – because she did have a lot of it – will never let her confess it, but he had the feeling Varric had a point. And, it would make sense, considering the form of nobility he had already observed in her. He reluctantly had to admit he was intrigued yet again.
((((((((
He waited for the end of her shift and looked for her in the Fade. He was not exactly passed the insufferable arrogant brat thing and had decided to find answers by himself. He popped in the middle of a memory.
They were in a little house whose inside looked Orlesian. She grunted on the ground, looking up to the brown-hair elf with loathe. She spat on his feet.
"You'll have to do better than that."
"You are not going, Mahariel."
She jumped on her feet, voice ominous.
"I'm going wherever I judge proper to go. You cannot stop me!"
He shoved her against the wall roughly, blocking her hands above her head.
"Can't I? Seems like you are out of idea." She hissed between gritted teeth.
"Not quite."
She pushed him away with her legs. He fell heavily on the ground with a grunt. He jumped on his feet just as nimbly as she did before. She glanced towards the dagger on her belt. She hesitated too long. He came back on her, once more immobilizing her hands. He held her tight to prevent her to do that again. Cornering her against the wall again, he spoke, voice low and menacing.
"If you go, you are finished. If I'm not protecting you, who will?"
She frowned, looking for a way out. His hand slipped under her trousers. She straightened, her eyes widened with a mix of fear, disbelief, and deep disappointment.
"Don't touch me."
He pressed his hand between her thighs. Her eyes welled up. He smirked deviously.
"C'mon, wouldn't you miss me?" Her voice broke as she screamed.
"Let me go!" The door slammed behind them. A younger elf appeared.
"What's going –" The man turned to look at him and interrupted.
"Get. Out. This is none of your business!" The younger elf considered the scene, looking at Mahariel's features and the hand of the other elf. He turned red with anger and charged the man. He shoved him away easily with one hand. But it was enough for Mahariel. She gave a fierce head-butt and slid away from his grasp. The man growled, already jumping back on her. The other elf cried out.
"El'las'in!"
He sent a dagger as he spoke. Mahariel caught it. The man had no time to change his path. He fell on the blade, impaled. Blood splurted on her. Her eyes widened with awe.
The memory vanished around him. He remained ajar. That was not what he was looking for. He swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly bad for seeing this. Whatever this was, this had been way too personal and empty from the pieces of information he sought. His teeth were gritted and his hand forming a fist. He had the ominous need to kill an already dead man.
He stayed away from Mahariel for whole other reasons during the next days. The vision shook his perception of the white-hair. The Fade translated feelings in energy, and he felt something break in her, whenever that happened. Not that he cared that much about how her feelings had been hurt, but seeing how low the People had fallen was painful.
Dhea'him: good afternoon
Nydha: Good night