I'm updating two stories in one day! I'm so proud of myself!
Disclaimer: I don't own nada
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The meeting place with the Friends of Red Jenny was on their way back to Haven, so they decided to take a quick detour.
It was nighttime when they arrived at a small Orlesian 'cottage' just outside the outskirts of Val Royeaux – or what counted as a cottage for Orlesian nobles. It was sprawling with fancy manicured gardens and ornate fountains. The walls were pure white, the walkways tiled black and white like a checker board.
But something was off.
The group was not stopped by any guards as they walked through the gates. In fact, the gates were unlocked and swaying absently in the wind. The courtyard within the walls showed obvious signs of disuse, with trash littering the corners, crates strewn haphazardly around the area.
Nydha glanced at her companions, their faces mirroring each other's suspicion as they simultaneously unsheathed their weapons and crept forward. There were two guards standing near the staircase. The elleth paused and signaled for her companions to stay where they were. She ducked into the shadows and snuck forward, her feet silent as she seemed to float forward.
Pulling up behind the man, her daggers flashed in the torchlight for only a moment, and then one was hilt deep in the man's chest while the other slashed across his neck, blood spurting. The man was barely able to gasp before he was already falling face-first to the floor.
The other guard gasped at her sudden appearance.
"The Inquisition's Herald – ack!"
A small throwing knife appeared in his throat, followed by Nydha shooting towards him and shoving it further in with the heel of her hand, before wrapping her fingers around the small metal hilt and yanking it back out. She flicked off the blood absently and placed the throwing knife back into her belt.
Nydha glanced up and caught the eye of her companions, jerking her head for them to follow her.
"Looks like they know who we are. Are they expecting us?" Varric muttered under his breath.
They continued up the stairs to the inner courtyard – only to be greeted by flying fireballs. Nydha dodged quickly, her eyes latching onto a noble-looking man wearing ridiculously tight leggings and a garish mask.
"Herald of Andraste!" The man exclaimed in a haughty tone, placing his hands on his hips and posturing with arrogance. "How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"
Um, what?
"I don't know who you are." Nydha deadpanned in a dry voice.
"You don't fool me! I'm too important for this to be an accident!" The man scoffed, positioning himself like some Orlesian sculpture. "My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"
"Guuh!"
They turned to look as one of the guards collapsed, a strange elven woman in mismatched clothing behind him and in the process of drawing her bow.
"Say 'what'!" She growled.
The nobleman narrowed his eyes. "What is the –"
Fwoop!
He took an arrow to the jugular. Nydha could not help but feel a flicker of amusement. The new elven woman relaxed and sheathed her bow, walking towards the Inquisition group.
"Ugh! Squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say "what".' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." The strange elf began to speak. "Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!" She bent down to retrieve her arrow, jerking it from the man's body with a small squelch. "So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're… Aaaaand you're an elf. Well, hope you're not too 'elfy'."
Too elfy? How much more 'elfy' can the either of us be? We're elves! Nydha snorted shamelessly, and the archer eyed her curiously.
"I mean, it's all good, innit?" The elleth shrugged. "The important thing is: you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"
Nydha snorted again. Herald thingy? At least she wasn't the only one that didn't put too much significance in the title.
"Yeah, some people think that. I don't, personally." Nydha shrugged. "So who are you? And what is this little setup for?"
"No idea. Don't know this idiot from manners." The girl quipped, and Nydha smirked just thinking about the exasperation emanating from her companions. "My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."
Judging from her disdain for all things 'elfy' and the lack of vallasalin, she wasn't talking about the Dalish.
"And who, exactly, are your people?" Nydha questioned.
"People-people." The blonde elf shrugged. Enlightening. Truly.
They both glanced up as their sensitive ears twitched, hearing the incoming footsteps of more soldiers.
"Name's Sera." The archer smirked at her as she reached for her bow, gesturing to one of the crates. "And this is cover. Get 'round it for the reinforcements. Don't worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed." She grinned maniacally and laughed heartily. "They've got no breeches!"
A huff escaped from Nydha as she reached for her blades. Oh I like her. The footsteps were louder now, and soon the soldiers were rounding the corners. Lavellan crouched and sprang at the nearest target, hearing the whoosh of Varric and Sera's arrows fly overhead while Cassandra let out a roar and charged head-on. Nydha felt her skin prickle as Solas cast a barrier around their companions, deflecting the arrows of the enemy snipers for a time.
"Why didn't you take their weapons?" Varric harrumphed.
Sera giggled. "Because no breeches!"
The fight was over in under a minute. Nydha sheathed her weapons and immediately began looting the bodies – to the continued frustration of Cassandra, exasperation from Solas, and amusement of Varric.
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Sera POV
Sera paused to study the Herald, quickly noticing the callused and scarred hands, the lack of shame in her eyes as the other elf scoured the pockets of the dead for spare coin. Huh. Sera would have thought the famed 'Herald of Andraste' would be some stuck-up warrior shooting holy fire from their arse. But this elf was a rogue, and a damn scrappy one at that. Definitely not noble-born.
She decided then that she like this Herald.
"Friends really came through with that tip." Sera stated conversationally. "No breeches!" She fell into another fit of giggles.
The Herald - Lavel? Laven? - stood up from looting the nobleman to face her. Sera did not miss the way she had slipped off every jeweled accessory on his person and then some, idly wiping the blood on her hands onto her pants without a care to the stains.
"So, Herald of Andraste," Sera addressed this strange elven woman. "You're a strange one. I'd like to join."
The Herald leaned on one leg and crossed her arms. "Why don't you explain what your group is, first."
Sera wrinkled her nose in annoyance but began to explain. "It's like this: I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. As well as all these other people, from Orlais to Kirkwall to Ferelden… you get the picture." She began to fidget under the unwavering stare of the Herald, "It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, friends, be a part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So I use them to help you. Plus arrows."
"The Inquisition already has spies… although one can never have enough." The Herald shrugged.
Sera shook her head. "Nah, it's not like that. Not quite. You've got cloaks and spy kings –like this tit," She gestured towards the dead noble, "All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some houseboy who don't know shite but knows a bad person when he sees one." Sera took a moment to sneer at the dead noble before she turned back to the Inquisition representative and attempted to appeal to her. "Look, I want to help… whatever this it is. This 'Inquisition'."
The Herald considered her offer, at the very least. The tattoos on her face glowed eerily in the low light of dusk as she studied Sera with a blank expression, making the archer shift uneasily at the sudden silence. None of the Herald's companions seemed inclined to break the quiet, watching her back respectfully. The elleth turned to face the big woman with the shield, the two having a silent conversation of raised brows and low hums before the Herald finally turned back to face Sera.
Letting out another hum, the Herald shrugged and nodded. "Well we aren't exactly in a place to pick and choose our friends right now. Welcome aboard, Sera."
"Yes!" Sera fist-pumped like some kid that got the sweet roll. "Get in good before you're too big to like! That'll keep your britches where they should be."
The Herald raised a brow at her.
"Plus extra breeches 'cause I have all these… there are merchants that buy this shite, right?" Sera asked comically.
"There are merchants for everything." The Herald told her with amusement. "Loot is loot."
Behind them, Sera heard the shield woman scoff and mutter 'rogues' under her breath like a bad name. It only made Sera cackle even more.
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Nydha internally marveled at the sense of familiarity she felt as she walked through the gates of Haven once again. More and more she was coming to see this place as – well, not quite home, but still somewhere to come back to. And she wasn't sure if she should be upset about that or not. She still did not see the humans as her people, nor did she consider the Inquisition her cause. She only worked alongside them so that they would not charge her for the Divine's death.
Oh my. Nydha realized in shock. It's only been three weeks since this chaos started.
It seemed like years since the sky had ripped open the world had fallen to its knees.
Once they arrived, Solas and Varric had disappeared to their usual haunts while Sera had cursed the cold weather and went in search of something strong and alcoholic to warm her insides. Nydha glanced at Cassandra as the Seeker accompanied her to the Chantry, and observed the Seeker's steady walk, straight back and stubborn gaze. Cassandra seemed so sure of herself all the time. Nydha envied her, just a little.
"Your kind killed the most Holy!"
"Lies! Your kind let her die!"
Ah shite… She and Cassandra exchanged worried glances. A small mob was gathered outside the front doors of the shrine, a clear line drawn between the mages and their supporters, and the templars and theirs.
"Shut your mouth, mage!" The templar snarled as he reached for his sword and the mage went for his staff, only for Cullen, their dashing commander, dashing in between the two and pushing them apart.
It was all very… dashing. Nydha smothered a giggle. Sera would have liked that one.
"Enough!" Cullen snapped at both of them, sending the templars a particularly hard look given his high expectations for the Order.
"Knight-Commander!" The templars exclaimed in shock.
"That is not my title." Cullen growled. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!"
Both the templars and the mages looked properly chastised at his words. She had to give the man credit. He was a wonderful leader.
"And what does that mean, exactly?"
Ah, dickface. Figures he was behind this. Bet he played devil's advocate for both sides, inciting this mess. Nydha sneered at the man as she pushed her way through the crowd towards where the two men were facing off. The tension was so thick she thought she saw sparks between them. And not the good kind. Ew, bad mental image.
"Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you don't enough?" Cullen asked in a dry voice. It seemed he wasn't surprised at the man's presence either.
"I'm curious, Commander, as to how the Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order, as you've promised." The man sneered, looking like a well-dressed rat.
"You know, if you dislike us so much you can just leave."
The men turned at the sibilant voice, an annoyed elf walking up to stand beside them, flinty eyes turning to the Chancellor. Cassandra and Solas stepped forward at this point, dispersing the crowd as they shooed everyone off. Solas escorted the mages back to their tents with a few cajoling words, while Cassandra barked at the templars to return to the training fields.
"The Inquisition has given you food and shelter here, Roderdick. Don't you know better than to piss off your hosts?" She curled her lip at the man. "I'll gladly buy a ticket for you to leave on the next caravan, if you find this place so displeasing."
Sometimes, a person's very existence just pisses me off. Nydha thought to herself. And this man is most certainly one of them.
Roderdick seemed to flounder for words for a few seconds, just long enough for Cullen to shout, "Alright! Back to your duties, all of you!"
Perhaps it was because the templars and mages were feeling uncomfortable having acted like children in front of the Herald, perhaps it was because some people did not want to be nearby to watch the seething elf rip the Chancellor's head off, but the crowd dispersed rather quickly. It also helped to have a disapproving Seeker standing among them, her arms crossed and lips pursed, making the soldiers scramble to escape her wrathful gaze.
"The mages and templars were already at war." Cullen turned his disapproving gaze back to the Chancellor. "Now you've got them blaming each other for the Divine's death."
"Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order!" Roderdick scoffed.
Cullen snorted. "Who, you? A random cleric who was not important enough to be at the Conclave?"
Oh wow, Cullen has sass! Nydha was actually impressed. She didn't know he had it in him. It kinda turned her on. If only he wasn't prettier than me. She lamented inwardly.
"The rebel Inquisition and the so-called 'Herald of Andraste'? I think not." Roderdick sneered. Again.
Nydha interceded now. "You know, if you keep sneering and pinching your nose like that, your face will probably be stuck. Not that it would change much. You usually look constipated anyway." Then she chuckled. "But if you're so insistent, we can just sit here and twiddle our thumbs while the world is consumed by demons. I'm sure they'll elect a new Divine in a decade or two."
Roderdick look positively scandalized at her criticism of the Chantry. Nydha savored the expression.
"The Chantry had already failed before the events at the Conclave." She continued. "If they had not lost control of both the templars and the mages, there would be no war in the first place."
The Chancellor was aghast. "So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?"
"Justice?" Nydha let out a piercing bark of laughter, making both Cullen and Roderdick look at her like she was crazy. "Funny, coming from a Chantry cleric. If I didn't have the Mark you guys would have used me as a scapegoat and thrown me in jail without even a trial. After all, I'm just an elf. No one would give a damn about me."
Roderdick narrowed his eyes. "How dare you accuse the Chantry of – "
"Of what? Doing the same thing it's always done?" Nydha sneered. "You and your kind are not holy men called to create a better world. All you care about is making yourself look important and furthering your own agenda. Half of the Chantry hierarchy is the result of political scheming, not good deeds and kind hearts."
"You are a heathen!" The Chancellor scoffed. "I do not expect you to grasp the importance of the Chantry's role in Thedas!"
"The Chantry is not doing anything to restore order, at this point." Cullen interrupted, placing a stern hand on her shoulder. "It won't protect the hundreds of people powerless against the demons coming through the Breach!"
"Ha!" Roderdick glared at the Commander. "Order will never be restored so long as this rebellion is allowed to fester."
"Then leave." Nydha ignored Cullen's hand on her shoulder, lunging forward to grab the front of Roderick's robes and gave the cleric a good shove, forcing the little rat to stumble. "No one wants you here anyway. Go, before I deliver you to your dear Maker myself."
She could see Cullen struggling not to show his approval of her words as the Chancellor walked away snarling unkind words under his breath. Roderick pushed past her companions as they returned from their crowd control duties, rudely bumping his shoulder against Solas and sneering at Cassandra as he passed by. Varric stuck his tongue out at the Chancellor's back.
The Commander then turned to her, attempting to plaster a look of disapproval on his face as he opened his mouth to scold her.
"Don't bother." Nydha waved him off, her narrowed eyes following Roderick as he walked away. "Commander, if you hear the Chancellor spreading anymore dissent among our ranks, I don't care if he is not a soldier, I want him court-marshalled like one. I will not tolerate rats dividing our men at a time like this."
Both Cullen and Cassandra blinked in surprise at her command, brows rising at the threatening tone in her voice.
"If he continues to undermine our efforts here, I will have that man labeled a traitor." Nydha's expression was deadly serious. "His words are poisoning morale, and I will not tolerate it."
With that the Herald spun to enter the Chantry, leaving the Commander and her companions behind to gawk at her back.
"I didn't imagine that, right?" Varric asked no one in particular.
Cassandra finally realized her mouth was hanging open, and snapped it shut. "I have never seen her act like that before."
They all exchanged bewildered glances.
"We – we should head inside." Cassandra cleared her throat. "We bring news from Val Royeaux."
The Seeker pushed open the doors, the Commander right behind her as they swiftly caught up to Nydha as she strode down the Chantry hall.
"It's good you've returned. We heard of your encounter." Josephine's voice cut through the Chantry as she exited her office.
Cassandra frowned at that. "You heard?" Her eyes immediately went towards the spymaster as Leliana advanced towards them from the meeting room.
"My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course." Leliana spoke casually.
"Of course." The Seeker muttered dryly under her breath. Cassandra's aversion to all things cloak and dagger never failed to amuse.
"It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital." Cullen muttered in disgust.
"At least we know how to approach each party now." Nydha replied. "Although I don't think Lord-whats-his-face gave us an invitation to negotiate."
Cassandra's expression became grave at that. "He is not the man I remember."
They began to advance together towards the war room as Leliana gave her own opinion. "True, Lord Seeker has taken the Order somewhere. But to do what? My reports have been very… odd."
"Odd?" Nydha questioned. "More odd than a hole in the sky and demons in the physical world?"
Josephine stifled a giggle behind her while Leliana huffed in amusement.
"We must look into it." Cullen said adamantly. "I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker."
Josephine spoke up. "Or the Herald could simply go meet the mages in Redcliffe instead. It is certainly the most valid option – we know that the mages are willing. The Templars are not."
"You think the mage rebellion is more united?" Cullen scoffed. "It could be ten times worse!"
Tch. Nydha rolled her eyes. Children.
"Someone just make a decision." She snapped at the advisors, Cassandra voicing her agreement beside her.
"We shouldn't discount mages." Josephine stated. "The mages may be worth the risk."
"They are more desperate than you realize." Cassandra retorted calmly, "If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…"
"The same can be said for the Templars." The diplomat pointed out.
Much to Nydha's surprise, Cullen acceded to the accusation. "True enough." He said. "Right now, I am not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely."
They all seemed to agree on that.
"In the meantime, we should consider other options." Josephine added, motioning for the group to enter the war room. Cullen and Cassandra immediately followed her, but before Nydha could walk away, Leliana stopped her.
"There is one other matter." The spymaster said lowly.
Well shit. Aren't there enough matters? No more matters! Nydha sighed as she turned to face Leliana.
"Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished."
Hm, yes, she remembered hearing such whispers. Leliana actually looked worried – an expression that no one wanted to see. When the immovable redhead was worried, something big was happening.
"I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared." Leliana shook her head. "Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea that they're involved in all this, but the timing is…"
"Suspicious." Nydha supplied.
Leliana nodded.
Nydha hummed but her expression remained neutral. "I don't see how that is connected to the Breach, but given how crazy things have been, I doubt it would surprise me if it was."
"My agents in the Hinterlands have heard news of a Grey Warden by the name Blackwall." Leliana informed her. "If you have the opportunity, seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."
Mind at ease? What – oh. Nydha often forgot that Leliana fought beside the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. It was hard to match the legend to a real person.
"You must be very worried if you are making this personal." Nydha said softly.
Leliana nodded. "It is. The Warden and I were very close. Her disappearance makes me uneasy."
Worry flashed in her eyes before it was hidden behind her professionalism. Nydha understood the agony of not knowing, and nodded to the redhead.
"I will look into it." She replied, noting the relief evident on Leliana's face. "But I cannot promise anything."
"As long as we try." Leliana murmured as she turned and lead them towards the war room, holding the door open for the elf behind her.
Nydha thanked her softly as she strode into the room, her eyes drawn to the map on the table, Cullen, Josephine, and Cassandra waiting patiently for them.
"First order of business," Nydha spoke, missing the way Josephine and Leliana exchanged amused glances at her authoritative tone. "Josephine, do you know the Orlesian First Enchanter Vivienne?"
The Antivan's brows shot up. "Madame de Fer. A formidable woman, both feared and respected. What of her?"
"Guess who was personally invited to attend her salon." Cassandra chuckled, and Josephine's eyes nearly bulged as she stared at Nydha .
"You –you –oh my!" She sputtered, but instead of being pleased, she seemed to panic. "This is bad! You don't know court etiquette or the names of anyone in attendance – dear Andraste! What will you wear? I don't even know what the styles are for this month!"
The elf turned to Cassandra and mouthed in disbelief, 'This month?'
"Calm yourself, Lady Montilyet." Leliana chuckled. "I assure, as long as the Herald shows up in armor, the nobles will be too dazzled to judge her too harshly." The redhead turned to the elf. "Although be sure to clean off the blood beforehand."
"I'll keep that in mind." Nydha murmured, turning back to their diplomat. "Josephine, I was wondering if there was anything of importance that I should know before I meet with the Madame."
Josephine hummed as she wracked her mental library on nobility, counts, and dignitaries. "Well, as you may guess, she is very powerful both in magic and in influence. She is the first to hold the position of Imperial Enchanter and actually use it as a political office – beforehand, the position was little more than a court jester. Everyone in the Orlesian court knows the Madame de Fer, or 'the lady of iron'. She has the ear of Empress Celene herself, and from what I hear, is quite familiar with the empress. Many have described her as a force of nature – when she speaks she expects to be obeyed, and few dare not to."
Nydha nodded. "An impressive resume." She murmured.
"When do you expect to meet her?" Josephine inquired.
"The salon is scheduled for next weekend." Nydha answered, pulling out the message and handing it to the Antivan. "That gives me just enough time to take the weekend off and then travel back to Val Royeaux."
"So busy." Leliana hummed, seemingly pleased with the turn of events.
"Well I don't see anyone else with the balls to run all over the continent and do this shit." Nydha grumbled as she crossed her arms, her language making their poor commander blush.
"Not to mention she specifically asked for you." Leliana pointed out. "It would be rude to send anyone else."
"Maker forbid I am rude to a fucking courtier." Nydha muttered under her breath, but Leliana heard her and nudged her reproachfully.
Josephine practically groaned at that. "Oh, please do not!" She begged. "We cannot afford to make an enemy out of Lady Vivienne!" Josephine looked faint.
"Relax." Nydha sighed. "I'll behave. Promise."
The Antivan did not look convinced and began to mutter about setting Nydha up with some etiquette training.
"If that is all, I am long overdue for a pint." Nydha
clapped her hands as she glanced at each of her advisors to see if they had anything else to say ("A pint? A pint?!" Josephine moaned. "Ladies do not go for a pint!").
Ah, good, no objections then.
With that, the elf bid the advisors adieu and spun on her heel, her mind occupied by the thought of a warm fire and piss-poor ale.
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Sera POV
Haven's tavern was neither the best nor the worst place Sera had ever been for a drink. It was clean, that was more than she could say for most taverns. The alcohol was more moonshine, and the most refined drink that they had was low-quality wine, not that Sera even drank anything that cost more than a silver. But the atmosphere was friendly, jovial on good days, with a large hearth warming the entire room and a nice bard singing away in the corner with her lute. The bar maid was polite, although Sera couldn't help but snicker when she saw the star-struck look on everyone's face when the Herald walked in.
Seeing the Herald without armor on was… well, it jarred Sera a bit. Lavellan looked so… normal. Ignoring the Mark, of course. She wore clean breeches and a worn tunic, snow boots, and a heavy coat. With her Mark hidden by her gloves, the Herald could have passed for any normal elf. Sera almost didn't see her walk in. Ironically, it wasn't her glowing hand that helped Sera identify Lavellan, but the long black braid that swung like a pendulum behind her as she walked.
The other elf slinked through the crowd like oil through water, seemingly averse to touching people as she carefully maneuvered her body through the throngs of people so that she didn't bump anyone. Her shoulders were hunched in a coat that was just a tad too bid, making herself small, and attempting to hide her face in the scarf that wrapped around her neck. Anywhere else in Thedas, it would be easy for someone to overlook her.
Sera had to admit, she was good. Any rogue would be jealous of her sneaking skills. But here in Haven, people quickly recognized her no matter how she tried to hide. An excited murmur rippled through the room as the Herald made her way over to Sera's table.
"Sera." The Herald greeted her in a soft, low voice, taking a seat across from her little table in the tavern corner.
"Wha's up?" Sera pulled over an empty chair and used it as a footrest, nonchalantly taking a swig of ale.
"Just welcoming you to Haven. What do you think of the place?" The Herald motioned to the barmaid to bring her something, then focused back on Sera. She seemed to fit right in with the humans and the village, and all other things civilization. Nothing like Sera would expect from a Dalish fresh out of the forest.
"This is it?" Sera waved at their surroundings. "It's fine, yeah. It's just… thought it'd be bigger." Then she giggled as her dirty thoughts kicked in. "That would have been hilarious if you were a man, right?" She sighed. "Waste of a good joke."
Lavellan's lips twitched upwards and she nodded in agreement.
"Anyway," Sera continued as the barmaid swept by and deposited a pint in front of the Herald, "Stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than this. Need things back to normal for coin to be flowing again. Another reason why the Templars and mages need to be sat down."
"You make them sound like two children squabbling over a pastry." The Herald sighed. "If only it were that easy."
"But that's the point, right?" Sera scowled as the Herald took a drink of ale. "There's a fuckin' hole in the sky and they still wanna punch each other!"
"That's exactly what I've been saying!" Lavellan exclaimed in exasperation.
Sera nodded. "The shites are too busy to look up where the real questions are."
The Herald snorted. "It's too early in the evening to go into philosophy." She drawled as she took a long gulp of ale.
"Yeah, yeah, whatev." Sera leaned closer to the Herald over the table. "First things first, though. I help you – march, march, arrow, kick – then people stop being stupid, and everything starts making sense again. Sound good to you, all-touched Lady Herald?"
"I don't think anything will ever make sense again." Lavellan pointed out dryly. "And don't call me that. I hate that title. My name is fucking Nydha Lavellan and people need to learn to fucking use it."
"Nee-dah La-vel-lan?" Sera wrinkled her nose. Sounds like 'la-la-la'. Stupid elvish shite all sing-song-y. "I think calling you Herald is easier."
The other elf glared at her. "Don't make me kick you."
Sera laughed at that. "I like you. You got spirit, yeah." She gave Lavellan a conspiratorial look as she lowered her voice. "You're not really Dalish… are you? I mean, yeah, ya got the face paint goin' on, but you act… well, you seem more like a city elf to me."
The Herald looked amused now, and simply raised her eyebrow as if to say, oh?
"Especially the way you scrapped with some of those guards at that noble's place. I know the 'devil's snap-around' when I see it." Sera leaned back and crossed her arms smugly. "That was street fightin' right there. You don't learn that out in the forest. I know a street rat when I see one."
There was a tense silence that followed that. The Herald – Lavellan – kept her expression eerily blank, her lids half-lowered as they stared at her without emotion, only calculation. Sera felt her hairs stand on end, and fidgeted under the predatory gaze. Her finger began to tap the rim of her mug, only increasing Sera's tension. A slow smile began to stretch across Lavellan's face, bitter and brittle, and Sera half expected to see fangs poking out from under her teeth in some mockery of the predator she so resembled at the moment.
"You have a good eye." Lavellan murmured slowly, her voice sliding down Sera's spine like a drop of chilled water. "No one else has noticed. Although Varric did comment on my lock-picking skills once."
"An ex-thief then?" Sera spoke, her tone higher than she'd like.
Lavellan sniffed. "'Tis no such thing. Once a thief, always a thief. 'Can't wash off sticky fingers', as they say." The elf shook her head. "But no, I am not exactly that either."
Sera attempted to shake off the chill that had crept over her and channel the reckless bravery she was known for. "Then what are you?"
"Everyone has their facets." Lavellan murmured. "But you are correct in your assumptions. I have no memory of my parents. I grew up living in the sewer, stealing bread from the market and running from the city guards. I barely had a rag large enough to cover all my little private bits, and my only skill was cutting purses and fitting into small hidey-holes."
"How did you end up with the elfy people then?" Sera pointed at the markings on her face, their meaning lost to her. They were kinda cool-looking though. She had not noticed before, but Lavellan's tattoos were rather sparse. Just a few swirls along her forehead like a crown upon her brow, sweeping down her temples to trail off along her cheekbones, and a small bit of markings on her chin just below her bottom lip. Most Dalish had more obnoxious markings all over their faces, making their allegiances quite clear to anyone who happened to glance at them, shouting to the world 'woohoo look at me, I'm an elf, feel sorry for me, la-la-la'.
"They took me in." Lavellan shrugged. Her fingers went to her face and absently traced the markings there.
"Didn't think they liked outsiders. Especially dirty shem-elves." Sera spat.
Lavellan had relaxed now, leaning back in her seat and shrugging. "I suppose it helped that I saved some of their children from Tevinter slavers. By that time I was rather skilled in fighting off those bastards. Slavers always go for the homeless city elves first."
Sera's mouth flattened into a grim line as she remembered similar experiences in Denerim. "Yeah, got that right." She growled, taking a large gulp of alcohol.
"I was also on the run at that point, so Keeper Deshanna offered me a place in the clan. And with the gratitude of many parents, I was welcomed." Lavellan sipped from her drink. "Doesn't mean things were easy for me. Assimilation's a bitch. Especially the constant camping. I'm a city girl at heart." She chuckled self-deprecatingly.
Sera leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. "So this ain't your first adventure, aye?"
"Neither is it yours, I'll wager." Lavellan nodded.
Sera shrugged with a Cheshire grin. "Ya got secrets, girlie." She tapped the side of her nose. "Then again, we all do, so I won't pry. And don't worry about the others – this will be our little secret."
"At least until Varric figures it out." Lavellan chuckled in response.