After getting free from a life of slavery in Tevinter, and fleeing the dangers in Kirkwall, the young woman elf Siris found a strange man locked up in a underground prison underneath an elven temple. The man pretends to be what the Dalish called an "ancient god', the infamous "Fan'Harel" to be precise. And his presence releaved a third party in this adventure: Healer, a spririt in the Fade who saved siris lives and decided to teach her the delicate art of healing.
Solas, the ancient elf, claims he had an orb with him when he got lock in the prison. Its powers are so great, no one can risk to let it falls in the wrongs hands. So, Siris and Solas goes on a adventure to find this magic orb. but the man does not make the journey easy. And the red cristals -the red lyrium- makes Siris worried.
What will happen?
There was no trace of a magic orb, or red crystals for that matter. As for the elven "god", named Solas, he slowly got his strength back; however, he was not really a talkative elf. Mostly deep in thought, he would follow Siris into the woods in silence. Not that the young lady wanted to talk to him. He screwed the world up. The Veil: his doing. Elven kingdoms destroyed: his doing. And for what, vengeance other a sweetheart's murder. Know, let's not get nasty: murder is wrong. But ripping the world apart is much worst!
As they walked on a cobblestone path, Siris could not stop thinking about the Knight-Captain Cullen, back in Kirkwall. When they met, she felt like he could turn into dust on a moment notice: the use of lyrium gave him a tired look that betrayed his nightmares and chronic pain if he did not take his dose; And somewhat, Siris had the feeling the templar was pushing his luck: was he trying to stop? Was he trying to put more time in-between the drug's doses? Whatever the human was doing, it was not good for his health.
"Healer? Can you hear me?" Siris thought.
No answered.
The young elf slow down to get closer to Solas. His noticed and knew that when she was doing that, it meant she was trying to talk to the spirit.
"I hear you, Apprentice." Healer said. "What is it that troubles you?"
"Can you see what I see when I'm not around magical item or persons?"
"Yes and no. I can access your memories when you are near a mage, for example. However, you must grant me access. Is there something you wish me to see?"
"A man. Human. Templar. In Kirkwall."
Healer explained to Siris how to let it have a look at her memories. The technique was rather simple: Siris had to think clearly about the memory she wanted to show and let go on her emotion, being completely relaxed. When Healer had its look, the elf could barely feel it.
"I see. Lyrium addiction." Healer said. "A nasty one, especially for living intelligent creatures such as humans and elves."
"How would you cure him?"
"I wouldn't." Healer admitted. "This addiction is not a sickness, it can't be cured. If the addicted is willing, he must progressively stop taking lyrium, eat healthy, avoid alcohol and have regular physical and intellectual activities. What you could do as a healer would be to easy the chronic pains he or she would suffer from the withdrawal."
"So even a spirit is helpless against this…" Siris said, a bit disappointed.
"Yes, I'm afraid; especially since I'm not "here". Keep in mind that this voice you hear comes from the Fade itself." Healer said. "However, as a spirit, I embodied an aspect of the world, in my case, medicine. And that does not only mean treatments, cures and operations techniques. I am the "will" and the "curiosity" of a healer too. Even the non-mage ones. Especially them."
"So… If I studied, let's says lyrium addiction, you will learn with me?"
"Yes. And next time someone needs my knowledge, I will be able to help."
That was it. In her heart, Siris knew exactly what she had to do. She did not like the templar. Or at least, she hated them as much as she hated mages. But this addiction, this lyrium… It was bad. In some ways, Solas was responsible for its abused use. If the Veil did not exist, if the mages were still massively superior in numbers, no one would be scared of magic, and its effects. The Templar Order would have not been created! But since the Templar were there, and were suffering because of the source of their powers… The only issue was: how to get close to a templar without scaring him? Havign a link to a spirit directly from the Fade would be at best considered as an act of magic, making Siris a very weak mage. But at worst, she would be considered as possessed, a ticking bomb before exploding into an abomination. And that, was a big problem. No templars would trust her. Fortunately, having a link meant no physical changes. Healer was not here, and Siris was still Siris. If she was carefull, she could hide the source of her knowledge… At any case, not doing this was not an option. Afterall, the girl needed something to do, a long-term life goal… Looking for that blasted orb and figuring what that red thing was would put a lot of work on her hands, but if she had the opportunity to study the templars' addiction… She had to seized it!
Siris and Solas walked for days in direction of Val Royaux. They had nothing to do there, but it was better than aimlessly wander in the Emeralds Graves. On the way, Solas took upon himself to teach some basic magic to Siris… even if she could not cast spells like the average mage. Minor healing spells, ridiculously low powered anti-poison spells… And that was only possible when she was standing next to the Ancient-Elf-Yet-Living-God. In other words: none only she was not a mage, but she was a terrible student when the lesson was about practicing magic, especially when there was no magic source near her.
"You get at least the theory…" Solas often mumbled.
Right before their first village, the strange duet met a market on a crossroad.
"I need proper clothing." Solas said as they got closer. "As much as I like my current clothing, it will give us away if we meet these "templars" you mentioned."
"I cannot argue with that." Siris mumbled. "I think we could also find you a walking stick. You could make it a magic staff without raising attention."
Solas looked at her, ears up, genuinely surprised.
"I did not think of that. Unexpected."
"What is unexpected?"
"Well, clearly I underestimated your intelligence."
Siris took a deep breath in, and let it out. If Time was not going to kill that man, maybe she'll have a try someday. Ever since he went to the conclusion she was definitely not a mage, he was insufferable. Underestimating her was a daily thing now and Siris learnt how to ignore it. Easy: years of slavery would teach you to let rich and powerful peoples' venom flow away. However, having to do that because of an elf… Siris admitted she felt hurt. How could an elf like her treat her as badly as a tevinter master? Hopefully, they'll find that bloody orb soon and be done with it! Solas will find a nice corner in this world where he will be able to judge whoever he wants. And Siris, she will study the effects of lyrium and made Healer's link with her worth it. But until then, she was stuck with that "this-world-is-not-good-enough-for-me" elf.
"I… I apologise." He said as they were looking the clothes for sell. "I understand how rude I've been."
"How unexpected." Siris grumble with a ironic half-smile.
"What is…?"
"Well, clearly I was unaware you had basic social skills." She said, mocking him. "Try this, I think it's your size."
"Are you mad at me?" Solas asked, genuinely shocked.
"Aren't you?" Siris answered, wanting really bad to punch him in the face.
"Of course, I am!"
"Then don't inflict on others, things you hate yourself." Siris spat out. "I don't how it worked in your time, but here, when you talk to someone, show a little respect. Especially to humans. Because now, you're nothing more but an elf. If you act like a lord, you'll be treated like garbage."
They went silent for a long moment. Solas went try some clothes. Anything suited him. The merchant had "elven socks" as h liked to call it. Boots letting the toes and heels showing.
"Here, try this." He said, giving her a long dress.
"Where does this come from?"
Siris was certain the merchant had not such dress: she looked carefully at his merchandise!
"I made it. With cloth that I bought from this shem…man. This man." Solas. "It's an apology gift. Try it on at the very least."
The young elf sighed. She took the dress and went in what was supposed to be a fitting room. The sheet used as the door barely hid anything. And after so much time spent as a free elf, Siris was not so willing to undress in from of people anymore. But a shadow appeared, and she recognised the back of Solas. He was hiding her from improper looks.
He is not all bad… She thought.
The dress was long and red. A metal pin on each shoulder would keep the cleavage acceptable; while a string of leather around her waist would be used as a belt. Looking down, Siris could almost see the tip of her toes. The dress itself looked like the ones the woman would wear during Solas' time. Mythal and other ladies were represented in such style. Perhaps it was a bit too luxurious for a nowadays elf? But it was comfortable, more practical than expected and damn right beautiful.
"I thought if we wanted to travel without raising attention, we should think our cover." Solas said other his shoulder.
Siris got out of the fitting room, gently pushing the elf out of the way.
"What do you think?" She asked.
Solas looked at her carefully, with a critical eye. He adjusted the pins, to make the cleavage less obvious. Then, he gave her sling bag and her cape.
"You look beautiful."
"I never wore anything like this." Siris admitted.
"Of course. This style is centuries old…"
"No. I meant, I never wore proper dresses." The woman said, ears down.
Solas looked at her again, his eyes betraying a certain pain. What she said revealed more about the elves life-styles than anything she could have told him before about slavery. Doing shores or being punished, were things Solas could understand, in an odd sort of way. But not wearing proper clothing? Being depraved of dignity in such manners? Especially for women who are constantly asked to hide their body.
His eyes meet the ground a brief moment.
"May I fix your hair?" He asked, his voice down with shame.
"Please do."
She sat down near the fire place where people could gather around to rest; and Solas started to work on her hair. He started by freeing them from the suede lace. With his fingers, he measured their length, made disappear the knots (with magic without a doubt). He was braiding some locks, when humans around them started to whisper.
"Look how dedicated this elf is!" One said.
"that's what I call taking care of your wife." Another added.
Siris and Solas exchanged a look. That was it! Their cover! A married couple, on pilgrimage to thank the Maker for whatever reason! As Solas took Siris' place on the bench and she had a look at his hair; the two accomplices knew it was the best way to travel without being feared by the shemlens.
"Hiding for being a mage… The world has gone mad…" Solas muttered once more.
As they paid for supplies and went on their way, Solas seemed troubled; He kept looking at the sky. As much as Siris wanted to ignore the man, she was way to curious to let this strange behaviour alone. When she asked what was wrong, he did not answer. Not immediately. He looked worried, but not entirely sure why.
"A storm is coming our way. I think whatever it might be, it will meet our path tonight. should seek for shelter." He said.
"You can sense a storm?" Siris asked. "But there are no clouds in the sky, just infinite deep blue."
"Because there are no clouds does not mean there will not be a storm. You lived in a desert land, no? I'm sure you had to face sandstorms at some point."
"Of course." Siris replied. "But Sandstorms aren't exactly discreet. You always see then coming. And if not, the wind gives it away."
"Either way, as a mage, I'm more connected to the world than anyone else."
Few hours later, they saw the spire of a Chantry.
This first village they found had barely ten houses and three farms. A small village, one might say. But it was apparently big enough to build a small yet study chantry church. The building was strong with its stone walls. However, if Solas wanted to admire the old architecture, Siris immediately spotted the templar knights guarding the village. So, the young elf dragged her traveling companion behind a wall; discreetly enough to not be noticed.
"These are templars." She muttered.
"Armored brutes…" Solas commented as he looked to where she was pointing.
"They follow a code of honour and are very devout soldiers." Siris tried to correct. "As long as we don't represent a threat or use magic with them around, we should be okay. And when I say, "don't represent a threat", I mean do not cross them in any ways. Most of them are polite, but we are still elves in the middle of nowhere."
"I will let you do the talking, then." Solas said, worried. "I'm not sure how to deal with them."
And so, the two started the married couple act. The plan was simple: the Chantry was bound by chantry law to host any traveling faithful, whatever species they might be. Since no apostate would dare to come directly at the Chantry's door, the church was the safest building in the whole village. Add to this the coming storm Solas sensed, the stone walls were the only ones strong enough around here to protect them.
Siris took Solas hand by the fingers, loosely, as she saw many couples do when they walk together; and guided them to the chantry's door.
"Welcome to ValRosau, travellers." One of the templars, an old man, guarding the main entrance said. "Is there anything you want"?
"Good Afternoon, Sir." Siris respectfully said. "My husband and I are doing a pilgrimage to Val Royaux, we were hoping if we could find shelter in this Chantry for the night."
"Pilgrimage?" The other knight said joyfully. "Of course, come in! You wish to see the Grand Divine? I heard she is the kindest woman in whole Thedas. Go talk the Mother Elisabeth, I'm sure she'll be please to meet you."
The two templars opened the door. As the young elf respectfully thanked them for they warm welcome, imitated by the very silent Solas, they entered the chantry. It was a small place in comparison of the chantry Siris have been to. The main hall for prayers, and some alcoves for various use. A back-door lead, no doubt, to the living section of the chantry.
"I overheard the knights." A smiling Mother said, walking towards them. "It is not often we have pilgrims here, but it is sure good to have visitors! I'm Revered Mother Elisabeth, and I welcome you in this church."
"Thank you." Siris said, bowing her head a little.
The human cleric looked very old. In her red and white dress, the she had the help of a walking stick beautifully crafted. One of her eyes were closed and Healer whispered to Siris it was because of a bad illness the woman had when she was still a young girl. The Mother was a gentle soul, never hurt anyone, and was not planning to. She invited the two elves to the back door, and ask the Sisters to give them a good meal and prepare the beds.
"Separate beds, I hope you understand. This is the House of the Maker." Sister Emma said.
There were three sisters (Emma, Isabelle and Hélène), one Mother (Bérénice) and the Revered Mother Elisabeth. Emma was the youngest and perhaps the most naïve of them all. Isabelle was the cook, and Maker's Breath she was good at it! Siris rarely ate such good meal. Sister Hélène was the funniest one. During the entire meal, she read and commented with her own spices verses of the Chantry. Everybody laughed, at a point even Solas smiled! Everybody seemed to enjoy the new company, and both Siris and solas felt welcomed… until Mother Bérénice came.
She was a tall, thin and serious woman. When she entered the kitchen because of the noise, she looked at the two elves with dedain.
"They finally sent the servants I asked weeks ago." She said, making the two elves ears backing down on their head.
"Mother Bérénice, you are back." Sister Hélène said, annoyed. "May I present you Madame Siris and her husband Monsieur Solas, they are Pilgrims who arrived an hour ago."
"Revered Mother offered them shelter for the night." Sister Emma said, with a smile that wanted the mother to be happy too.
"Pilgrims? Elves?" the Mother nearly shouted. "Look at the girl! She has Dalish markings on her face! Thieves they are, at best."
"I'm not a dalish, Mother." Siris said.
"And even if she was, she would be welcome here either way."
It was Revered Mother Elisabeth, coming back from her prayers.
"It is the Maker's will to help anyone in needs, regardless of origins and believes. They asked politely if they could stay, the Templars allow them in the Chantry. They'll stay as long as they need to and we will treat them as guest. And that is my final word, Mother Bérénice."
The mother said nothing and went back to whatever activity she had. But Siris and Solas exchanged a look.
"Yes. This one will be trouble." Healer whispered to both of them.
Next chapter very soon