Thanks for reading! Additional translations at the end of the chapter.
Mahariel stopped her quick pace when she caught a glimpse of the Chancellor standing with Cullen in front of the Chantry. Great. Just great. It was the second week of Guardian and they were barely back in Haven. She had stayed with the horse-master to show him the installations. Cassandra had a head-start on her and was likely already in the Chantry. She was tired from the travel. The afternoon was already late and she had but one wish: a bath, a diner and her bed. Okay, make that three wishes. Still. She wielded her best smile and walked with determination. The man snorted and nothing but spat his sentence when he saw her.
"And here she is. The supposed Herald of the Blessed Andraste." She bowed slightly.
"Chancellor. What a lovely surprise." As expected, a sparkle of surprise took his eyes as she addressed him with a sarcasm-free voice. She had had a hard-time managing that, to be honest. He looked at her from head to toe and his face turned red.
"A blood-mage in top of it all?!" She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"You are going from one prejudice to another with an eagerness which does your organization no good, Chancellor." Her calm seemed to piss the man even more. Leliana, in a tent nearby, heard her words and intervened.
"The Herald is right, Chancellor. Your attitude is insulting us all. This woman you called heretic and blood-mage is doing more to inspire respect to the Chantry than you are."
Mahariel glanced at her with a nod of thanks. Not so pleased to be doing anything for the Chantry, but she knew the words of the Spymaster were well-intended. Leliana had joined her on her right side and Cullen moved to stand by her left. The Commander looked at the Chancellor, adamant.
"We have more important things to do than discuss with him, Herald."
"Agreed. The hole in the sky won't fix itself, would it, Chancellor?"
She let the rhetorical question floating in the air as the three of them spun on their heels to enter the Chantry. Once they were in the building, Leliana looked at her, thoughtful.
"Keep this magnanimity, Herald. You will need it in Val Royeaux."
"Is that our next move?" Leliana pointed the War Room where Josephine and Cassandra were waiting for them.
"Let's discuss it inside."
Mahariel was not the first fan of this plan. Not that she was worried about the clerics. It was more the idea of putting a foot in the capital city of the Empire in bright daylight that was making her anxious. Before they take their leave, she sent a lot of birds for people to be ready for troubles.
She didn't let her tension be acknowledged. On the outside, she smirked and said she will do it if they wanted her too.
Cassandra, Solas and Varric accompanied her once more. The seeker had a harder time than her to mask her apprehension of the meeting. She took the time to speak more with the woman on the road. As she had pointed out, Cassandra was trusting her only because her faith pushed her to. She could gain of a less hostile relationship with her. Besides, she was curious to hear her side of how she saved the Divine.
And a side benefit of speaking with Cassandra, was seeing Solas' face knocked out by the endless avalanche of words of Varric. She liked the dwarf, always fun and easy-going. And she had no doubt Solas liked him too. But the apostate was obviously not used to have such constant waves of words and Varric was not easily shut off. She had an inside memo telling her she should really read the Tale of the Champion to keep up with all this. Besides the Arishok and the Chantry blowing, she didn't know much. Wasn't such popular book in Tevinter.
She talked some more with the apostate as well. She was likely as intrigued about him as he was about her. They did not have the same methods, but he was extremely secretive and a player as well. It made their discussions quite enjoyable in a less one-sided way than with Leliana. The Spymaster was a skillful bard, but her story was in the history books, for the most part. Solas, on the other hand, was a mystery. And, unlike Cassandra, he didn't only want to know. He wanted to figure it out. As did she. That made their relationship quite particular.
They made good time to Val Royeaux, arriving before the end of the month.
Mahariel looked at the pale cobblestones, the golden doors and statues. She suppressed a sigh. Here we go. She was hiding her deep discomfort well that far. She could foresee so much ways for this to go bad. And she was sure she didn't even know half of them. Her reports had been clear about the presence of several Crows, including one in particular. An ambush was the best situation she could think of. Her hand was dancing above the hilt of her daggers.
She instantly leapt backwards when she felt a hand on her shoulder, daggers drawn and wrapped with fire. Cassandra's jaw dropped with bewilderment.
"Herald?" Mahariel winced, sheathing the blades back.
"Sorry."
"You are jumpy today, everything's alright?" Asked Varric. She scolded herself on the inside for the stupid reaction.
"I'm fine. Let's get done with it."
The scout who has been reporting, Cassandra, Varric and Solas exchanged a look as she walked, determined, towards the place. She turned right away, hiding into the shadows. Her back straightened as she realized she was clearly not supposed to do that. She hardly suppressed a tremor as she stepped into the daylight. Solas took few steps, avoiding carefully to touch her.
"Herald, do you need a moment?" She shook her head.
"I told you, I'm fine."
"You certainly don't seem so."
She frowned, scanning the area. Of course, she was not. For one reason or another, practically everyone in this place wanted her skin, and only half of them didn't know it. He discreetly drew a barrier around her.
"Better with this?"
A hint of a smile threatened her lips. Hardly, but nice try. She took a deep breath and put her best Orlesian smile on her features. I'm not giving these clerics the satisfaction of thinking I'm afraid of them. She stretched her walked towards the golden Lions and mingled into the crowd.
That didn't go that well, as the clerics instantly acknowledged Cassandra's presence. All eyes turned towards them both, Varric and Solas slightly aloof.
She kept her calm for the whole exchange. She even managed to suppress her urge to laugh with the Lord Seeker intervention. That had been rich. Well, until he turned into some kind of self-declared tyrant. Cassandra was disturbed by the man's actions to the highest point. The crowd dispersed itself when the Templars made their dramatic exit.
She finally allowed herself to take a breath. Obviously too soon. The arrow stuck between two cobblestones few inches from her. A throwing knife already in hand, her eyes tracked its path, looking for the archer on the roofs. The barrier came back at full strength right away. She heard Cassandra's sword being unsheathed. Varric chuckled.
"Wow, calm down, all of you. Look, that's a message."
Mahariel narrowed her eyes. Oh. Right. She took the paper, going through it quickly. A hint of a smile took her lips. Red Jenny. That was actually a good surprise. Back in Denerim, she had done some harmless job for them. They paid well and the backfires were assassins-free. Something she could appreciate from time to time. That was worth investigating.
It was past dark when they reached the secluded courtyard.
They took down the few guards easily and entered a second courtyard. She avoided skillfully a fireball and looked up. Her nose wrinkled with annoyance. Err…Orlesian. Again. With hands on his hips, he addressed her with smug.
"Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!" She crossed her arms with disregard, not impressed the slightest. She wielded a thick Orlesian accent.
"Am I supposed to know you? Sorry my dear, I'm afraid you are not even worth a memo in the Inquisition's report." Varric muttered a laughter and Solas' lips curved faintly behind her.
"You don't fool me! I'm too important for this to be an accident! My – Where are you going?!"
Mahariel had shrugged and turned around, decided to leave this idiot by himself. Someone who wanted to hurt her, maybe, but not worth her time. She had enough enemies as it was, she had to put some kind of hierarchy among them. That was no priority. When she did not bother to answer, she could picture him jumping up and down as he shouted.
"Don't ignore me!" Varric laughed.
"Too late for that."
The sound of a man agonizing, however, stopped her steps and she spun on her heels to face the direction of the sound. A blond-haired elf was aiming the idiot. Mahariel frowned slightly, looking at the elf face. She spoke up.
"Just say what."
"What is the – "
The arrow cut his words short. The short range made the shot particularly dirty. Mahariel rolled her eyes. Even more stupid than she thought. Not able to understand the simplest warning. The blond-hair looked at the corpse with disgust and walked towards the Herald.
"Squishy one, but you heard me, right? Just say – "She finally looked up to the Herald. Her eyes widened and she exclaimed "Andraste's tits, Mahariel?!" The white-hair shrugged and looked towards Varric, Cassandra and Solas.
"'Twould have lasted two months if I didn't tell you. Good to know." She turned back to the blond-hair and smiled faintly "Sera. Away from home, aren't you?" The named Sera seemed to still be processing.
"You are the one who glows?! The Herald thingy?! Andraste's silver spoon, Shianni would never believe that! Hard to believe you are even alive! And…Maker, you are giving me a headache." Mahariel smirked.
"Happy to see you are well too. Care to tell me what's this about?" Sera shrugged.
"No idea. I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."
"So, Red Jenny, hum?"
"Yay. Should discuss later. Reinforcements comin'. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed." She giggled "They got no breeches."
It seemed to be the cue of the said reinforcements since they arrived. Mahariel reached for her daggers, enflaming them with a gesture. She felt the protective magic falling on the five of them. She glanced appreciatively at Solas. Good thing he could summon a large barrier, she could keep her mana pool for what it was best at. She extended her sustained flaming weapon spell to Cassandra's sword. The five mercenaries fell easily. Sera giggled a bit more about her no-breeches strategy – the well-found of taking foe's breeches but not their weapons remaining a mystery – before she resumed.
"So, Herald of Andraste, hum?" Mahariel shrugged.
"Not my idea, you know." Sera snorted.
"Of course, 'tsnot. Too elfy for that." She looked at her from head to toe, noticing her actually not so elfy appearance "What with the vint-thingy?" Mahariel glared at her, indicating they were not alone with a glance. Sera resumed quickly, taking the hint, even if subtlety was not her main quality. "I mean, elfy, birdy, vinty, one never knows with you, innit? Oh, dragon tattoo! Nice! Er…Anyway, I'd like to join."
Mahariel suppressed a sigh. Sera had many talents, but she would make such poor spy. A wonder how she survived in Val Royeaux. She nodded.
"Okay." Sera beamed.
"Yes! I knew you could not have changed that much! Get in good before you're too big to like. That'll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches because I have all these… You have merchants who buys that pish, yeah? Got to worth something. Anyway…Ah, this will be grand! I can stay with you, right?" Mahariel nodded.
"Of course. This is already dark and we have a room for the night and extra bedrolls." Varric took a step.
"Welcome Buttercup. So, there is a story here, from where do you know Grey?"
"From where does anyone know her you mean. Girl has a reputation – "
"We crossed paths years ago." Interrupted she with another glare. Sera tilted her head.
"End of story?" Mahariel suppressed a sigh again. That will not be easy.
"That is the end of the story."
"Yeah. Right."
"There is certainly a where." Pointed out Solas. Sera just looked at Mahariel, considering she might as well keep her mouth shut before saying something stupid. Mahariel looked at the mage.
"A city in the South."
"This is rather vague." She smirked.
"More than a small village in the North, I wonder?" Solas' nose wrinkled.
"Point taken." Varric glanced from one to the other, not sure how exactly she just shut his mouth. He looked at Cassandra.
"Has someone think to keep scores between them? I wonder how much she has ahead of him." Mahariel looked at her adversary with a nod of appreciation as she commented.
"Don't assume too much Varric. 'Tis more of a tight game than you think."
Solas smirked, appreciative of her fairness. True enough his points had not been made in front of an audience. Varric glanced once more from one to another, with a peculiar smile the elves did not quite place. Sera sighed with annoyance.
"Arrrh, elves."
Mahariel smiled faintly while the other looked at the girl questioningly. Should be interesting enough.
Mahariel sneaked out the chamber they had in the city. It was awfully crowded with the five of them and, on the top of it, both Sera and Varric snorted. Loudly. She jumped nimbly from the balcony and landed silently in the deserted street. The fact that the Crows didn't make a move of the whole day was only making her nervous. That they didn't out her in the middle of the marketplace, she could understand. That was between her and them, and they were pissed enough not to want the imperial guard to steal their kill. She actually hesitated. She finally bit her bottom lip. No. No back-up. Not for what she intended. If they didn't attack…She had to give a try to negotiations.
The city of Val Royeaux never slept. The streets were always enlightened, courtesy of the loyal mages. As any rich city, night was the part of the day when the most interesting things happened. The streets appeared deserted, but shadows were everywhere. The moonbeams were reflecting on the gildings sometimes revealing a foot or the end of a cape. That was the Val Royeaux she knew and was comfortable in. The Val Royeaux of the bards.
Mahariel was wearing a cape with a hood on top of her antaam-saar. She had wear her other armor for the day, the rest being in her pack. She had thick black leather gloves covering efficiently her mark. With that and the hood, any distinctive signs were hidden. Except for her bright blue-green lagoon eyes. If anything, she was quite sure it was what had driven the previous assassins. She had always been careful with her white-hair but she couldn't do a lot about her eyes.
Cloaking them with magic was as temporary as rudimentary. The only spell she ever found to do it was putting a magical layer on top of her eyes. Disturbing side effect being the filter it put on her vision. She was seeing the world in black and white when they appeared grey, in shades of orange when amber, etc. Not convenient at all. She was only using this trick when she ran into agents without her cape and hood to hide her identity, like she did after the rift in the Hinterlands. One way or another, their width was shouting elven.
She knew the streets, the alcoves where she could hide if the guards were coming nearby. She chuckled on the inside. Some things are not forgotten. She hid in the lover's alcove near the dock before taking the stairs to go up. She looked up for the window and frowned. Open. She used the vines to climb and sneaked inside the room. Her eyes widened in front of the empty room. Oh shit.
She had no time to move when the rope began to press against her throat, choking her. The man clicked his tongue.
"So predictable, da'len." She mumbled, despite the pressure.
"Don't call me that." He pressed stronger.
"Oh yeah…Herald is it now?" He chuckled without mirth. "I'm impressed. You have been many things, but the blessed Herald of Andraste? Did not see that one coming."
She wanted to answer but the air was too far from her lungs and her head was spinning. Her cry of pain died in her throat when he turned violently her wrist and broke it. He loosened the rope and kicked her on the knees. She landed on her four limbs, face red, tears filling her eyes as she coughed. The man turned around and grabbed a sword he pointed at her chin to make her look up. The Antivan elf's face was slightly wrinkled, his dark hair turning grey on his temples. On most of his face was the symbol of the Crows – the mask – inked. He spat on the tiles next to her and kneeled, forcing the hood away from her hair and features. He sunk his blade deep in her thigh. Her jaw gritted but she did not give him the pleasure of yelling. Instead, she raised her blurry eyes to him, keeping her voice firm.
"I came here to talk, Venicio." He shook his head with loathe.
"Too late for that. Lin'sul'lin." He waited before adding in a snort "Ashalan." He brushed the blade where her Crows' tattoo was. He pushed a bit the edge to draw blood.
They both started when the blade froze. A barrier fell around her. She did not question it and gave a head-butt which exploded the sword. She slid back and took a knife in her right hand, the one still working. She sent it in his shoulder fiercely. She turned around to see Solas on the balcony, preparing an icicle to throw in the Crow's throat.
"SOLAS, NO!"
With a gesture, she dissolved the icicle and, with the next one, froze the assassin's feet and hands to prevent any further attempts. Solas looked at her, bewildered, as her torso collapsed on the ground. He rushed to her side, seeing the marks around her neck and the blood around her. The Crow laughed bitterly.
"I see you found yourself another man-pet. Why am I not surprised? Harellan sa nu'vin, harellan uth." Solas frowned and looked back at Mahariel. There was nothing but sadness in her eyes. She sighed and looked at the mage.
"Solas…Can you…Leave us a moment?"
"Are you insane?! You need medical attention and this man was about to kill you!" The Crow snorted.
"Go ahead, kill me. I have nothing to tell this little bitch. If you were wise, you would not either."
Solas' hand formed a fist. Why was he so angry about someone insulting her, he did not know. Still, he doesn't want anything more than crushing this man and forcing apologies out of his mouth. Not necessarily in that order. Mahariel looked at Solas pleadingly, but he was not close to leave her side. She really did not want him to hear it. She didn't want anyone to hear any of this. She sighed and turned to Venicio.
"I'm not here to give you some vain apologies. I'm here to make a deal with the Crows." He snorted.
"That should be interesting. What make you think we care about whatever you have to say?" Her head was still spinning and she was closed to pass out.
"I will give you what you want."
"Meaning?"
"Me." Solas spun to her, eyes wide, but she ignored him and resumed. "You saw the Breach. If I die before closing it for real, the world will be swallowed. Let me do that, don't attack the Inquisition, don't attack anyone. If you do so, once it is done, I shall surrender."
The man paused a bit. A cruel grin took his lips.
"I would have accepted until yesterday, Ashalan. A pity I heard the most interesting thing earlier in a secluded courtyard. Oh, not much, barely a word. A name to be exact. So, no, I will do better. I will kill you now and, then, I will use this name to find the ones you pretend to pro – "
Mahariel gave a defeated nod to Solas. The mage's icicle went through the man's neck. It was a clean, painless death. She closed her eyes, a tear escaping them. Solas was looking at her. He was somewhere between lack of understanding, deep want to scold her and sudden need to comfort her. Her thoughts became even more blurry. She was about to speak when a violent cough chocked her. She looked down at her thigh and whispered with wide eyes.
"Poison."
Solas wielded his healing magic without results. Whatever poison had been used, it would need more than that. He forced himself to keep his calm in front of the passed-out Herald. He should have known she could only be running into troubles. She had been on edge ever since they stepped into the city. Her forehead was burning and the bleeding of her leg, not happy enough with not stopping, was turning dark. His magic could slow the effects but not more.
"Dammit, what the hell?!" He spun towards Sera behind him. Did she follow him or, like him, the Herald? No, not the Herald, she was untraceable, only the magic of the mark allowed him to find her. Why did Sera follow him – No, it was not the time to think about this. He looked at her.
"Assassin. He poisoned her. Go grab Varric and Cassandra. Now." The blond elf frowned and shook her head.
"No, better bringin' her there."
"I cannot climb down the balcony with her in the arms."
"'tswhy we're two, innit?"
He scowled but listened to her proposition. Considering she had nothing broken, Sera could drop her from the balcony – which was not too high, hopefully – for him to catch her. He agreed just a bit reluctantly. She was a light-weight, should not be too hard to proceed. And they had no time to lose.
Oran was looking at the scene with gritted teeth. Fuck. Why didn't she call for reinforcements before going to see him of all people?! He was worried, but he could do even less than these people. His eyes widened as Sera let Mahariel fell of the guardrail. He put a hand on his own mouth to mutter the yell threatening to cross his lips. Who does THAT?! Dammit, where did she find such bunch of idiots?! He was ready to intervene, few inches away from Solas. He contained himself as the apostate caught her. Okay, idiots, but not incompetent. Well then, better clean the room before anyone else does.
Solas suppressed a sigh of relief as he caught her. He resumed his healing magic right away, a sparkle of worry in his eyes. Sweat was dropping from her forehead. He stroked her hair behind her ear. Sera jumped from the balcony.
"Okay, Elfy, hand her back." He raised a brow at her. He quickly shook his head and broke into a quick jog.
"We have no time for this." Sera frowned but followed quickly.
They nothing but slammed the door, awaking Varric and Cassandra with a start. Both were about to yell at them when their eyes met the Herald and widened with fear. The sum-up was even quicker from Sera, repeating the two main words. Cassandra looked at Solas with distress.
"Can't you heal her?!"
"I'm afraid my magic won't suffice. I can slow it but not annul it." Varric intervened.
"How long?"
"Not enough to make it to Haven. It would take one week at the best."
"What about two days of hard ride? Can she do it?" The mage frowned.
"Where do you want to take her?"
"Ghislain. She got an invitation there from the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, remember?"
"That's a long-shot. We don't know what she wants with the Herald." Cassandra looked at them both, firm.
"Varric is right. A long shot, but the only one. No one here will help her."
No one dared say something else. When the Seeker began with Varric is right, it was meaningful enough.
They left right away the room. As they went for the horses, they sent Sera to clean the room in which the assassin was, to see if she could find what poison had been used. They run into some of Leliana's scouts – alarmed by the sudden rush – and Cassandra barked a bunch of orders. Clean the path until Ghislain and inform Leliana being the main point.
Cassandra and Solas fought some minutes about how to settle Mahariel on the horse. Cassandra, guilty as she felt, unwilling to let the woman on the horse of anyone but her. Solas trying to reason her, considering he was the one slowing the poison and, hereby, the one needing to stay the closest. And he could fight even with her settled in front of him. The warrior could not. Cassandra finally admitted herself defeated.
Lin'sul'lin: blood for blood
Ashalan: daughter
Harellan nu'vin, harellan uth: (roughly) trickster/traitor one day, trickster/traitor always.