Inquisitor Marina Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste
i.
Her father sends her to Ferelden. No explanations, no requests, no nothing. Just get up, get dressed, get packed, get on the road.
Marina knows why. Her older brother is stuck in the middle of the mage-Templar war and they need to do their part to keep him safe. And she does love him, as much as her body can handle, but she's from Ostwick, tired of war and confusion, very much ready to just relax and enjoy the first years of her marriage without her father kicking her out of her own house and across a continent to help out his favored child.
Yes. There are still hurt feelings involved.
ii.
Run. Run. Don't dare to stop. Fear, she's so afraid she can't breathe. Run. The spirit is in front of her, always in front and Marina runs, runs until her legs burn with acid. Don't stop. Don't stop. Do you want to die here? No, she doesn't want to die. She wants to go back to the Free Marches, she wants her husband and her parents, the large castle, the tall mountains run, girl and the murmurs of the crowds as they fill the streets below and she's so scared he's coming and he's coming right behind her, for her, for them.
There you are, the glowing figure extends a hand, almost there.
Marina reaches the peak and the shining portal. Another moment, timeless, before she's able to cross it.
And then.
Nothing.
iii.
"I didn't do a thing, Seeker."
"You just said you can't remember what happened."
"I know me. When you kill someone, you use a blade and you look into their eyes. You don't blow them up like a coward. And I would never be stupid enough to do so and stay in the bomb's range."
She understands she should have censored the second part when Cassandra glares with extra fervor.
iv.
The comments are hard not to notice. You don't belong here. You are not one of us. You are odd.
To wish Marina replies even when no one wishes her to. No, I don't, no, I'm not and yes, yes, I am. So what? You asked me to stay, all topped with the smile her father hates the most.
"Doesn't anything rattle you?" Leliana asks her in one of rare moments of curiosity.
"Badly healed joint in my left leg," the Herald answers swiftly. "Rattles like a she-dog when it's cold."
v.
Marina is not the Herald of Andraste. A Herald has to know something in order to herald anything and her complete and total lack of knowledge proves she's nothing more than Marina Trevelyan, warrior and professional busybody extraordinaire. Andraste is not incompetent enough to choose someone and not give it a clear and distinct message to transmit. This pleases her greatly.
Can you imagine the weight of being a sacred being's Herald? She's fine being a normal little human, thank you very much.
vi.
The Herald considers terribly not helping the mages. When you dig a hole that deep, you deserve to climb your way out of it.
vii.
"Aren't you afraid of the big bad Tevinter mage?" Dorian asks her randomly as they are struggling through the windy coast. Unlike Solas and Cole, both warrior and mage get bored by silence.
"I might be afraid my husband ends up thinking I go everywhere with good looking males." Marina waves absently around her. "That drives wedges on a marriage."
She's rewarded with Dorian's laughter.
"I'm more likely to pounce on him than you."
"Then I'm more likely to smack you than be afraid."
vii.
Corypheous doesn't scare her. She's lived enough to see deluded fools gunning for power and being tainted doesn't make him any less common.
viii.
Marina didn't like Haven much. A shroud of mourning enveloped the mountain, whispered through every corner where she walked. But Skyhold? Skyhold is a castle of mysteries, brimming with history in every corner, touched with magic in every stone. The Herald loves it from the first moment she crosses the threshold.
It helps that it's the first real roof over her head since she left Ostwick.
ix.
"You're telling me to muffle up. You are."
"You are a smart man, Bull. I expect you to be able to understand me quite clearly."
"I'm a Qunari, boss."
"I'm a human who's leading you into a snowy mountain. Bundle up or I'm taking Blackwall instead."
He stares at her.
She taps her foot.
He raises an eyebrow.
She gives him a look he only remembers from his years as a child.
He bundles up.
Inquisitor: 1; Mercenary: 0.
x.
The Commander is easy on the eyes. If she wasn't a married woman (happily so, mind you!), she would definitely allow her thoughts to stray.
Besides, his mage seems incredibly possessive.
xi.
The first time Sera rants her many many theories about elves, their religion or noble families, the Inquisitor tugs her ear. The second earns her a strong slap upside the head. The third… Well.
"I'm on what?"
"Time out," Marina replies as she begins to walk away. "Eyes on the wall. Varric, you get to use her for target practice if she moves."
Sera obviously think Marina is joking. The first dagger thrown through the air shows the elf that she's clearly not. Bianca's following bolt underlines that fact in clear red ink.
Good Maker, does she forget I'm from those degenerate families she keeps ranting against? Sheesh.
xii.
The Empress is not used to being stared down, it seems. For the first time since her growth spurt, Marina is happy she is built like an oak. It's bad enough that the woman is beautiful as a porcelain doll. Being able to look down at her would make the Inquisitor feel childishly violent and place someone else on the throne.
Priorities. She has them.
xiii.
"Inquisitor?" Solas finds Marina kneeling by a tree, one hand resting against the bark as emerald leaves fall all around them. "What are you doing? Are you alright?"
When she turns to her caller, Solas can see tears sliding down slowly on her cheeks. A small laugh escapes her mouth before she rubs her face to clear the water away.
"Sorry," she says, standing up. "Couldn't help but think the end of the Dales is a horribly sad story. People are so silly, aren't they?"
xiv.
The Well whispers to her, slow songs in numerous voices. Beauty and sadness, anger and hatred, memories without beginning or end, tears, happiness, smiles, hugs, nostalgia. The closer she is, the louder she hears them and the most certain she is that this is not for her.
xv.
"Marina!"
The Inquisitor freezes by the entrance, eyes widely open, lips forming a neat little 'o', surprise all over her expression. "Howell?" The group has time to see the black haired woman smile a delighted little grin before she runs towards the main gate and the man who waits for her.
Cassandra might think she won't find her way home after the death of the monster. Howell believes there's no real reason for her home not to find her. His arms engulf her like the warmest blanket she has ever touched.
"I don't want to leave," she says, instead of an actual greeting.
His laughter rolls over his skin and into hers.
"You should convince me to stay."
That is a task that takes over thirty years to complete.
xvi.
"We are not keeping the dragon!"
"Why not?"
"It's a tainted dragon. It tried to eat us."
"We kept the Wardens."
"And, unless the financials are wrong, we have yet to feed them human flesh, Inquisitor."
The Seeker stalks away, looking incredibly ruffled for someone who will become the Divine in the following year.
"You know, I think she actually believes you when you say those things," Varric comments.
Marina's smile is on the edge of full blown laughter. "And ain't that fun?"
xvii.
The Inquisitor has hope in both the future and the people she guides. Foolishly so, her advisors mutter when they think she's not listening.
Hope is fine, she thinks. Leaving them alone for long when they undoubtedly will cause trouble is not.
xviii.
The new Circle isn't special. Marina has entered it several times during construction and it's just a tower, well furnished, well provided but simple.
What it lacks, however, is metal bars in every corner and that makes all the difference.
xix.
"Marina! You have correspondence from Ostwick."
The warrior nods distractedly, running past like all the demons of the Fade are right at her heels. A normal day, it seems. Josephine shakes her head in amusement. Marina might be older than her and act like it but sometimes, she's just like a child running behind on schedule.
"You don't address her by her title?" Lady Anaxas looked positively perplexed.
The Ambassador actually scoffs at that. "After seeing her stumbling through the halls, struggling to put her armor in the right places, you wouldn't either."
xx.
Marina sits on her bed, staring through the nearby window at the white mountains. The snow lightly falling from the skies give the touch of something new, something peaceful to the environment. It is a mirage; nothing can be completely peaceful when standing firmly in the middle of so many arguing factions.
It's hard to explain why she likes it so. To be in the eye of the hurricane, standing on her own two feet with a hand strongly grasping her sword, head raised tall and proud. Here, people trust her. Here, she is the Inquisitor and not the second daughter who married beneath her. Here, she is the Herald and Marina and a guide and friend, someone with no doubts about who and what she is.
That is so nice.
"Alright!" She claps her hands twice. "Time to go to work."
The mound of blankets by her side moves sluggishly.
"Maybe more silently, love," it grumbles.
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