DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Dragon Age anything.
"Talking"
'Thinking'
.*.*. ҉ .*.*.
"Lady Lavellan, on behalf of the Inquisition."
Snazzy title. Better than being called the 'Herald'. She thought as she walked into the foyer of Madame de Fer's 'country cottage' – again, displaying the Orlesian talent of gross understatements. The 'cottage' was actually a sprawling mansion, and her little 'salon' was less of an informal gathering, and more of a full-blown ball of some sort. Nydha suddenly felt underdressed in her armor and worn leather boots, compared to the guests in swathes of satin and velvet, glittering with jewels, feathers, and painted masks. Two such guests approached her almost as soon as she walked in.
"What a pleasure to meet you, my lady." A masked man greeted her. "Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome. You must be a guest of Madame de Fer?"
She nodded.
"Are you here on business?" The woman beside him asked in that annoying high pitch that court women tended to have. "I have heard the most curious of tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true!"
Nydha wished that she had a mask herself, so that she could roll her eyes at the gossip-monger without being reprimanded.
"Depends," She replied to the noble woman. "What are these tales that you speak of?"
"Surely you know!" The woman gasped. "Touched by the holy hand of Andraste herself! They say you survived the attack on the Conclave by her divine intervention! That she saved you by taking you into the sky, and returning you to earth when it was done."
Only the Orlesians would have such wild imaginations. Nydha chuckled. The story was certainly… inspired. But she had to admit, it was not far from the truth – she had survived a mysterious explosion, she had somehow been swept into the Fade, and some glowing woman had saved her life. If it had not happened to her personally, Nydha would never have believed such a story.
"Er yeah." She chuckled under her breath as she answered the masked woman. "Everything is completely true."
Why not feed the rumor mill? It will at least keep these damn nobles entertained.
The noblewoman tittered. "The Inquisition should attend more of these parties!"
A loud scoff from above had Nydha glancing up to see another fancy-dressed, masked nobleman walking down the stairs like he owned them.
"The Inquisition?" He sneered. "What a load of pig shit."
Tut, tut. Language! Nydha sighed as she eyed him, automatically gaging him as a potential threat. Who is this douche?
"Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously." The man scoffed as he came to stand in front of her, posturing like an overgrown rooster.
Oh honey, would I love to introduce you to Leliana and Cassandra and have you say that to their faces.
"Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power."
The other nobles witnessing this man's behavior seemed appalled. To treat their host's guest in such a way! Sure, the nobles were a catty bunch, but they rarely outright used such vulgar words towards another, and never in another's house!
"We have made no moves against the Chantry or the existing governments of Thedas." Nydha carefully played diplomat, fighting against the scathing comments that fought to escape her mouth. "We exist to restore order, not play petty games with politicians."
The man scoffed for the umpteenth time and attempted to intimidate her by closing the distance between them and loom over her. "I know what your 'Inquisition' truly is…"
She raised an eyebrow at him, while staring with the most bored and unimpressed expression she could muster. It did the job, as his eyes narrowed behind his mask and his lips thinned in anger.
"Tch." He glared at her. "If you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges!"
Just as Nydha thought about how much of a waste of her time that would be, she noticed those little sparkles of frost that she remembered how they would precede Solas' frost attacks.
Mage! She took a quick step back, just in time to see the man freeze as he reached for his sword. In the literal sense of the word. Ugh, frostbite.
"My dear marquis," A calm, tightly controlled female voice spoke from above. "How unkind of you to use such language in my house to my guests."
A powerful mage, Nydha noted. The woman had used a proper spell without the use of a staff, not to mention magic emanated from her in waves. From the way that the woman walked, Nydha could tell that she was more than just magically powerful – the nobles bowed their heads as she passed. This was the authority in this house. The infamous Madame de Fer.
"You know such rudeness is… intolerable." Despite the posh tone of her voice, there was no mistaking the underlying danger it exuded.
"M-Madame Vivienne!" The man stuttered, much to Nydha's amusement. "I beg your pardon."
Yes. Beg you little twat.
"You should." Lady Vivienne snapped. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?"
The mage turned to address Nydha. "My lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"
Nydha did not even bother to glance at the man in question. "He is an insignificant thing." She said, noting that Vivienne's eyes lit up gleefully at that. "Do whatever you feel is appropriate. It is your house, and I have no interest in him."
The Madame hummed in amusement, a predatory smile curling on her lips. She was like a snake curling up to strike, practically licking her lips as she turned back to the marquis and taking his chin in hand. The tongue lashing that she gave the poor man had him quaking in his tights, wielding her tongue as effectively as a blade. Nydha would be lying if she said that she was not impressed, if a little intimidated herself. After the marquis ran out of the mansion with his tail between his legs, Lady Vivienne caught Nydha's eyes and motioned for her to follow.
"That was cruel." Nydha chuckled as they exited the main foyer. "I'm sure the poor man would rather have been slain than endure such mockery. And to insult his doublet? Ruthless."
She could see Vivienne's lips curl into a coy smirk as the mage led her out onto one of the patios overlooking the gardens, leaving the din of the party behind them.
"Allow me to introduce myself," The regal woman spoke as she came to a stop in front of an open-air window. "I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."
Nydha bowed her head politely. "Impressive titles, Madame."
Vivienne's mask did not hide the surprise that flitted across her face. She hummed thoughtfully. "You are not as untrained as your appearance suggests, Lady Lavellan."
"Things are not always as they seem." The elf winked back at the mage.
Vivienne tittered. "How darling."
Nydha shrugged, but gave no further comment, and so the Madame continued.
"I wanted to meet you face to face. It is important to consider one's options carefully." She spoke with a haughty air that seemed to come naturally to her. "You claim that the Inquisition seeks to restore order, yes? The Chantry is in shambles, and no one else is stepping up to quell the chaos. As leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel that it is only right to lend my assistance to your cause."
"An Orlesian lending aid so freely?" Nydha hummed lightly with a small smile. "No one would ever believe it. What is in it for you, my lady?"
"The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos," Vivienne said seriously, although her expression remained polite and friendly. "The chance to meet my enemy, to decide my fate. I won't wait quietly for destruction."
"A noble statement." Nydha murmured, keeping her expression neutral. "I've always been one to run away from my problems, personally. Recent events, however, have limited my options."
Vivienne eyed the Mark with a combination of scholarly curiosity and wariness. "I imagine so."
"Well then," Nydha glanced over the enchantress once more, "You are certainly powerful, and more than capable. And I will not lie – the Inquisition needs all of the support it can get. The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Madame de Fer."
Nydha gave her a Cheshire grin, probably confident that she would be accepted from the very beginning.
"Great things are beginning, my dear." The enchantress told her. "I can promise you that."
.*. *. ҉ .*.*.
After speaking with Madame Vivienne, Nydha was left to enjoy the rest of the party. Cassandra was the only companion to accompany her this time, Varric citing some bullshit excuse about being allergic to nobles and Solas pulling the apostate card. Nydha didn't even bother asking Sera to come. But despite her own aversions to politics, Cassandra had been born into the hierarchy, and thus knew how to navigate the Game. The Seeker had gone off to speak with several people she had recognized at the party, using her family name to garner some potential allies for Josephine to cultivate.
Feeling like some freak show with her vallaslin, pointed ears, and glowing hand, Nydha opted to blend into the shadows, watching the nobles at a safe distance. Despite the scandal from earlier, no one seemed to notice the missing Herald. Most likely, they thought she was still speaking with Vivienne in some secluded part of the estate.
Her dark leathers helped her disappear into the darker corners of the chateau, the elf exiting the main rooms and opting to linger in the gardens where there were less eyes, ears, and rumor mongering. Vivienne had done well for herself; Duke Ghislain had granted her a beautiful estate. The gardens were well-tended and quiet, the winding pathways and tall vine-covered walls guaranteed privacy for those who would retreat into its depths.
"Psst!"
She spun around and had the servant pressed up against a grate before he even got the chance to breathe, a blade snug against his jugular.
"Wait, wait!" An old elven servant yelped, holding up his hands.
Nydha eyed him warily. He was shorter than her, thin and weary, his face lightly lined with wrinkles, lips dry, eyes dark blue, ears twitching nervously under a mop of graying hair. His hands were calloused, stained with dirt, a man of manual labor, not an indoor servant. Her eyes swept down his body, relieved to see no sign of a hidden weapon.
What is he doing here? She wondered, and then it dawned on her. Nydha narrowed her eyes and pressed her blade firmly against his neck, her other hand pinning his shoulder to the wall.
"You're one of Briala's people." She accused the elf.
"Y-yes..." The man nodded slowly, careful of the sharp knife on his neck.
Nydha felt her stomach drop. Crap. "How did she know about me?"
The spy stiffened, and then shook his head. "She doesn't, I swear!"
"Then why are you here?" She demanded.
"I'm not here on Briala's orders!" The servant told her, his expression suddenly nervous. "I - I recognized you."
Recognized me? Shit. It was not like her to leave loose ends. How had she missed this one? Nydha glanced around the gardens, making sure they were alone. She could kill him now. No one would have to know. But she couldn't help but be curious.
"How do you know me?" She asked the servant, not once letting up the grip she had on her knife.
"Eight years ago." The elf gulped, his neck scraping the edge of her blade as it bobbed. "The Mantillon mission."
Nydha tilted her head and studied the man again, this time imagining him younger, his hair darker, his body more muscled. Yes, she vaguely remembered the man. They had not interacted, however, save for obeying orders.
"Briala has been looking for you ever since you disappeared." The servant continued. "She wanted to offer you sanctuary."
You mean she wanted to recruit me. The elleth felt her eyebrows rise. "It has been almost a decade. I am surprised anyone would recognize me."
"Well, the vallaslin was a good cover." His eyes flickered across her face. "I almost doubted my instincts for a moment there. A little hard to forget a northern elf, though."
Her skin color always gave her away. She almost rolled her eyes at that. She wasn't the only northern elf in the south, but they were still rare.
"So, the Herald of Andraste?" The spy raised his brows. "Title like that gets some attention. Won't be long until your old master finds you."
She was well aware.
"Briala could help you. We have contacts -"
"The Inquisition already has spies." She interrupted him.
"But do they know who you are?" The elf questioned her. "Who you were before you went to the Dalish?"
Her silence was answer enough.
He smirked now, eyes glinting, teeth flashing in the shadows. "Briala knows. We could help you keep things hush-hush. Your own people never have to know -"
"I know better than to trust my dirty secrets with an Orlesian." The elf sneered at him. Attempting to blackmail her now? Fool. She had played the Game before, and this was nothing compared to the stakes she had once gambled with.
She thought about letting the spy go, but then it occurred to her: Could she afford to let Briala know she was still alive? He would doubtless report to her the moment she allowed him to leave. Briala was one of the biggest players in the Game. If she knew, others would soon follow. Whispers would spread, and eventually the one chasing her would catch her scent once again.
He is disposable. She reminded herself, thinking of the countless servants across Orlais who ultimately answered to Briala. The spymaster would simply send another to infiltrate Vivienne's staff. We were all disposable.
Suddenly the air seemed to still, the servant freezing as the woman before him seemed to transform into a completely different person. Every part of her body seemed to sharpen, her eyes glinting and expression hardening as her demeanor changed into that of an apex predator. He shivered as he made eye contact, the world around them melting away as he recognized the woman that he had met eight years ago, a little older, a little wiser, and still just as deadly.
"Apologies." She murmured, and the man gasped as he felt the blade sink into his neck. It was a swift cut, merciful by her standards really, and she cradled his head as he gasped for air and his body went limp. Her expression was dispassionate as she guided the servant's body down to the floor and laid him gently on his back. "But I can't let you leave here alive."
She left the body in the gardens and quietly slipped into the servants' quarters, avoiding the servants as she used the unseen passageways to emerge in another section of the party entirely. No one would know that she had been in the garden that night. Not that it would bother the nobles, servants were mere pawns in the Game. Not even Briala would think twice about it.
Regardless, Lavellan quickly found Cassandra and bid the party adieu. She couldn't leave Orlais fast enough.
.*. *. ҉ .*.*.
After Nydha returned to Haven, she was once again swept away by the advisors to attend to – in her opinion – rather dull and unnecessary tasks. She was asked to overlook the financial accounts of the Inquisition, decide where to send aid, place support, and what to invest in. Nydha thought that her decisions were rather simple and obvious – first invest their money in stocking medical supplies, then sending reinforcements into the Hinterlands, therefore clearing trade between the Frostbacks and the valley. But according to Josephine, they needed her say-so to make such requests 'official'.
They had exhausted Nydha with their tireless arguing: Leliana insisted that the majority of their finances go to secure supplies, while Cullen argued for updated armor and weaponry for their men; Josephine nagged her about opening communication with the Orlesians, while Cassandra was constantly reminding Nydha that they had things to do and a world to save and why was she still playing diplomat with the advisors?
Nydha was about ready to snap!
She heaved a sigh as she finally was allowed to leave the meeting room, walking briskly down the main hall of the chantry without looking like she was running away. Nydha passed a niche where she noticed their latest ally, Vivienne, lighting a candle and praying.
"My Lady." Nydha spoke softly as she walked up behind the mage.
Vivienne tensed, obviously startled at her arrival. The woman turned around and swept her gaze over Nydha , pursing her lips. "Oh. I didn't hear you approach." Vivienne murmured, although the elf could not tell whether or not the enchanter was displeased at her sudden appearance.
"I met an elven mage, earlier." The mage continued. "Solas, I believe he was called. I admit I was surprised. I did not expect to find mages among the Inquisition."
"Believe it or not, but Solas volunteered to join the Inquisition." Nydha told her. "And from what I've heard, he practically ordered them to let him in."
"And why were you at the Divine Conclave?" Vivienne queried.
"Are you asking why the Dalish would be interested in Chantry business?" The elleth asked with a quaint smile, "Or why I would be personally concerned with the Conclave?"
"The Conclave was everyone's business, whether they would admit it or not." Vivienne scoffed. "The war between mages and templars has spread through the lands regardless of borders, race, or affiliation."
Nydha nodded at that. "Precisely why the Dalish bothered to pay it any attention."
"So you were a spy?" The mage gleaned, eyes studying the elleth with a calculating glint.
Nydha chuckled. "I prefer the term 'uninvited guest'."
Vivienne smirked at that. "That must not have gone over well with some."
"Leliana and Cassandra were none too pleased to hear that when they first met me." Nydha conceded to her, smirking.
"So then why did you stay?" Vivienne asked.
The rogue shrugged. "A number of reasons, aside from the glowing green problem of course. This conflict would eventually have spread to the Dalish, not to mention that the Templars are hunting our Keepers and their apprentices. I would have had to fight regardless. At least this way I have access to better information, and I can keep an eye on the human kingdoms."
"Prudent, aren't you?"
"I try."
Vivienne took a moment to study her before the mage sighed and glanced down at the candles, a thoughtful look in her eye. "Justinia's death has shattered the balance of power in Thedas. If it is not restored quickly, countless lives will be lost. Mages, templars, innocent people of all kinds now look to the Inquisition to decide their fate."
Gee, no pressure. Nydha thought.
"Then you are here for the same reason as me – to have a hand in deciding that fate." Nydha murmured, glancing at the mage staff that was leaning against the wall nearby.
"For almost a thousand years, the world believed it was in the hands of the Maker." Vivienne looked pointedly at Nydha's Mark. "And now many believe you are the agent of His will. Whatever the truth is, that belief gives you power."
"Power?" Nydha sighed and reached up to rub her temples. "Such power is something I fear. Not just in myself, but in anyone."
"'Tis true." The mage dipped her head, her tone indicating she was please with Nydha's caution. "Hm, but I'm afraid I have stolen enough of your time, my dear. Don't let me keep you."
Nydha nodded and turned to leave. "Until next time, Lady Vivienne."
The elf exited the prayer niche and returned to the main hall of the chantry, a frown etched on her face. She was getting a headache from all the 'chosen one' speeches that people kept giving her, and she really just wanted alcohol at this point. When she reached the exit, Nydha practically threw the doors to the chantry open and walked out into the freezing air. A blast of cold air hit her face, biting her nose and the tips of her ears, while her boots crunched the snow underfoot. The chantry doors were pushed closed by the guards behind her.
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted her thoughts of freedom.
"Excuse me?"
She turned to look towards her right, noting the young man in armor. When she had walked by him, she had merely thought him to be another Inquisition soldier. But now that she studied his armor, it was not one of their uniforms.
Shame on me. Nydha thought with mild displeasure. I should be more aware of my surroundings.
"What?" She snapped in a short tone.
The young man looked a little startled at her attitude, but quickly composed himself in a professional manner. "I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I am having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me."
Nydha eyed his uniform, noting that it was well-made and individualized. He was no mere courier, there was no official emblem of any group that Josephine was currently negotiating with, so he was not a foot soldier. He stance, however, told Nydha that this person was military-trained, perhaps a defector who wished to join the Inquisition? No, a defector would never be in possession of armor like that. A hired sword of some sort? Odd that one would seek out the Inquisition though.
"State your business." Nydha spoke as she crossed her arms.
The man hesitated. "I think it would be better if I spoke to someone in charge."
"Haven is a very distrusting lot. I'm surprised you were even let through the gates, wearing unfamiliar armor like you are." Nydha drawled. She would have Cullen lecture the gate guards later. "There is a reason that no one has shown you to our leaders yet. What is your business here?"
"I am Cremisius Aclassi with the Bull's Chargers Mercenary Company. We mostly work out of Orlais and Nevarra." The man said, squaring his shoulders.
Ugh… Tevinter… She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. "And what do mercenaries want with the Inquisition?"
"We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast." Cremisius told her. "My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If your commander would like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work."
Nydha raised an eyebrow at that. Mercenaries looking to fight for the Inquisition? I do not believe that Josephine mentioned putting out a job offer. Why would they want to fight for a so-called 'holy war'?
"I will relay this information to my superiors." Nydha responded finally.
The man looked like he was about to protest, but Nydha was already walking away.
Mercenaries, huh? She mused as she walked to the outskirts of Haven towards the small house that she had made her own ever since waking up in this mess.
Well, mercenaries would certainly provide better aid than their half-trained farm boys. The Inquisition soldiers were all novices at the moment, hardly capable of holding their own in a fight. First they needed to be trained in weaponry and how to move in armor, then proper combat forms, and finally, how to fight in a unit, to make their army one cohesive machine. Hiring mercenaries could buy their men time to train, while the Inquisition was still young. If their numbers continued growing as they were, eventually the Inquisition would have enough soldiers to send the more experienced men into the field while beginners received proper training in Haven.
It was a useful premise, but the Inquisition was sorely lacking in funds at the moment. They could barely afford the combination of food, medicine, and materials as it was! Even though Josephine had been successful in a few mercantile endeavors, it would take time before such investments paid off. Of course, they could always use credit, but owing a debt to a mercenary company was unwise to say the least.
The elleth bit her lip as she clasped her hands behind her back, idly nodding at the people that passed her in the streets. Soldiers saluted – which was still a strange occurrence to her – and villagers waved or bowed their heads reverently. She noted Varric haggling with one of the merchants, and glanced Sera through a window as the elf drank from a bottle.
Strange how life appears normal, and yet nothing is the same. Nydha thought as she reached the door to her cabin.
When she entered, she kicked off her snow-covered boots and hung her coat by the fireplace to dry. That was another thing that was strange for her – a constantly roaring fireplace. Back when she lived with the clan, firewood in the winter was of vital importance, and was strictly regulated. To leave a fire burning all day was not only pointless, but simply wasteful. However, now that she was 'all touched Lady Herald', as Sera so eloquently put it, a servant was always checking up on her quarters to tend to her fire, clean the room, and sweep the floors. The sudden lack of chores was bewildering to Nydha .
After holding out her hands above the fireplace, rubbing them to get feeling back into her fingers, Lavellan finally turned to the table that sat opposite from her bed. Her one personal luxury had been ordering a large map of Thedas, similar to the one that was used in the war room, and had it spread out on the large table.
Sitting on top of it was an inkwell, several quills, and a notepad upon which she wrote her 'to-do' list. If only the list was as simple as they had been in the past – groceries, supplies, delivering a note for a friend. Nowadays, the list was comprised of far more important tasks (as if saving the world was not enough!).
After jotting down a quick memo about seeing this 'Iron Bull' at the Storm Coast, Lavellan closed the shutters of her windows and stripped off her armor. She quickly checked over her equipment for any nicks or scratches, and after deeming it whole, changed into a pair of clean leggings and a large shirt (her lack of a proper nightgown seemed to horrify her maid, much to her amusement).
Nydha collapsed into bed with a sigh. And tomorrow, we'll go explore the Storm Coast. Allll the way up north.
Ugh, she could feel the saddle bruises already.
Unpopular Opinion: Vivienne is way better than Elsa. (I love Frozen but I love Viv even more lol)
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