Nethra was catching up with Varric by a firepit, when the two noticed a couple of Leliana's ravens flying overhead.
"Well, I guess they're sending word." Varric said, "Nothing like the beginning of a longass battle, am I right, Jailbird?" He grinned at the elf.
"It feels very similar to Kirkwall's beginning, doesn't it?"
"We're just missing a few people, that's all."
"You mean Hawke." Varric's lips formed a straight line.
"If I were you, I'd keep it on the down-low that you know her. You don't want to be thrown back into that prison, do you?"
Nethra shook her head.
"Yeah. Didn't think so."
The two heard hammering coming from the Chantry's door. Nethra looked up to see a blond head facing the villagers. She couldn't make out their face.
"Oh, man. This is gonna be good."
Nethra frowned at Varric's comment. What exactly did he mean by that? The person began walking down the path toward them. It was now that Nethra could make out that it was a man – built like a soldier. As he walked forward, she began to make out his face. It couldn't be…
No.
"You." She growled. She began to run straight at the man, murder in her eyes.
"Hold on there!" Nethra felt the back of her shirt tug, a pair of dwarven hands pulling her back, "I don't think it's a good idea to go on attacking the Commander of Haven's soldiers."
"Let me go, Varric! He deserves it!"
"Nethra?" His voice cut through her mind like a knife. She whipped her head around to stare at the man who separated her from her friends in Kirkwall. "I-Um…It's good to see you." His voice was much calmer than she remembered.
In fact, a lot about him was different. His hair was no longer as curly. It seemed he managed to find a way to tame it. His skin was much more pale and his body seemed to have a hunch instead of the regular Templar 'stick-up-your-ass' posture. None of these changes would turn her mind away from the burning hatred that lied within her towards that man.
"I wish I could say the same." The freckled elf spat, still struggling to rid herself from the dwarf's grip.
"Play nice, Jailbird!"
"I'm deeply sorry for the events that happened in Kirkwall." Cullen spoke in a professional manner, as if it would change her mind at all, "I can assure you that I am here merely as a war advisor, not as a Templar. Is there any way that we can begin anew? I understand if you don't want to forgive me."
She would have argued if it weren't for the lack of lyrium singing from his veins. She could feel it softly linger, but it was not nearly as strong of a song as regular Templars. Instead of arguing, she just glared.
"Just don't talk to me, and we should be fine."
"As you wish." He bowed his head solemnly, and trudged off toward his practicing soldiers.
"Well, that could've gone better." Varric huffed, letting go of the elf's shirt, "Could've gone worse, too." He grinned at Nethra, walking her back to the fire.
She was fuming. How could he act so calm? The last time she saw him, he was fighting in a war, and he knocked her out and sent her out of Kirkwall, alone and companionless. And now he shows up at Haven, acting like a 'different man'? No one changes like that in a day.
She kicked one of the fire's logs.
"Solas, do I know you from somewhere?"
The taller elf hesitated before speaking, "I do not believe so. Why do you ask?"
"I just feel like I've met you before." Nethra stated, her eyes full of wonder, "maybe you just have one of those 'familiar faces'."
Solas smiled, "Perhaps."
"So…" The freckled elf looked down at her hand, "You've studied the Fade. I know the first thing most people think of when they hear about the Fade is demons. Surely that can't be all that's there?"
The bald elf's brows perked up. He was not used to anyone wanting to know about his adventures in the Fade. "Of course not. Demons are simply spirits who have been corrupted against their purpose. Most beings in the fade are peaceful."
"Can you talk to them?"
"Of course. Many of my closest friends are spirits. They have stories to tell, they can recall events that have taken place ages and ages in the past."
Nethra looked at him with eyes of wonder. She had never heard of such a thing before.
"That's amazing!"
"I'm glad you feel that way. Not many do." He smiled at her.
"So, for instance, are you able to contact Elvhen spirits? Those who lived before the past was lost?"
Solas' face dropped. "I have not been able to as of yet. I have spoken to Elvhen spirits, but never ones old enough to recount the mysteries of the Elves. That does not mean that it is not possible, however."
There laid a silence between them. Nethra looked down at her feet, fiddling with her fingers.
"I…have dreams, sometimes." She started. Solas' gaze met hers. "Not…regular dreams, but ones where I'm not me. I'm…a halla. But not a normal halla. When I see my reflection in water, I'm glowing."
Solas remained silent.
"Most of the time, I'm running. I'm being hunted by someone. Does it mean anything?"
"The Fade is a place rich in history. You are a city elf, are you not? You do not have the traditional markings of the Dalish."
"Actually, I am Dalish. I was sent away before I received my Vallislin. Solas, does it mean anything?"
"I do not believe so. It is just a dream." He turned away from her. It was odd of him not to investigate. During the past few conversations between the two of them, Nethra couldn't get him to stop talking about the Fade and dreams.
"But it's always the same." Nethra muttered. Something told her that he wasn't saying what he was thinking. He stopped in his tracks, hesitating, before retiring to his small lodge. Nethra sighed. Just when she was starting to like him. She walked through the town, making sure to avoid Cullen and his soldiers. She noticed a soldier walk up to her.
"Pardon me, Herald, but Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana would like you to come to the War Room at once." The female soldier bowed her head.
"Oh. Right. I'll go there immediately." Nethra stammered. The soldier nodded and walked away.
Nethra made it to the War Table just as Leliana and Cassandra began arguing about whom the Inquisition needs to get on their side.
"Templars would be able to read the situation. They are trained to handle such things." Cassandra's stern expression stared toward Leliana.
"But mages can help with the Breach! If anyone can control that magic, it's them." Leliana argued.
As soon as her sentence finished, the room's doors opened once more to reveal the Commander, looking paler than usual.
"Cullen, have you been briefed?" Cassandra asked. He nodded his head.
"I believe you already know what my opinion is. I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of."
"Treachery and abusing those who trust them?" Nethra rolled her eyes at him, "We should be allying with the mages."
"You seriously think pouring more magic into that rift is going to help?" Cullen retorted.
"They invited us. The choice seems pretty obvious to me. I'd like to side with the ones willing to help."
"The Herald has a point." Cassandra stated firmly. "We aren't in the position to be rejecting help."
Leliana nodded. "It's settled then. The Herald will travel to Redcliffe and consult with Grand Enchanter Fiona."
Nethra nodded and left the war room almost immediately, eager to be ridded of the former Templar's presence.
"This isn't a good idea, Nethra." He followed her briskly.
"I thought I told you not to talk to me." Nethra kept her head forward, opening the chantry's doors.
"You're making a mistake."
"Well, maybe I should believe you, since you happen to be a professional at making mistakes!" She whipped her body around to face the much taller man. Her eyes were filled with fire, "Don't you dare tell me what is right or wrong, Cullen Rutherford." She pressed her finger hard into his breastplate, "I haven't forgotten. And I never will."
The citizens of Haven stopped what they were doing, staring at the altercation between the two.
"I don't expect you to." He sighed in defeat.
"Then leave me alone." She muttered, continuing down the path to her self-proclaimed room. Cullen could hear her door slam from the entrance of the Chantry.
After hours of sulking in her small cabin, a knock sounded on the door. She slowly opened it to reveal her bald friend.
"I hear you got into an argument with the Commander, my friend." He smiled.
"He's biased. Any one of those Templars could be as corrupted as the ones in Kirkwall, not to mention that they don't even want to help."
"Are we not biased as well, being mages?" The man spoke pure wisdom, and most of the time Nethra found it endearing, but right now it was pissing her off.
"The things he's done…You couldn't imagine, Solas-"
"Alas, are you the same person you were all those years ago?" He shot her a knowing look.
"No, I suppose not." She sighed. She walked into her bedroom, pouring some mead for her and her friend. "Solas, are you going to tell me why I have the dreams about the halla?"
He shook his head. "Perhaps you should refresh your knowledge on Elven lore. That would be a good place to start."
"Is venturing the Fade while you dream something that I can do? Or do I need to be trained?" The thought had come across her mind a couple times that day. If she could journey through the Fade, she may be able to figure out her dreams – or, at least, control them.
"It is a bit of both, falon." Friend. "I can find you while you are dreaming and help you with the skill, if you wish to do so."
"That would be wonderful!" She smiled graciously. "Th-there is one more thing, if I may ask."
His brow quirked. "What is it?"
"My old friend, Merrill, used to teach me Elven. Would you... be able to continue my learning? It would mean a lot to me."
He nodded solemnly, but she could tell he was pleased. "Of course. Your training shall start tonight, falon." And with that, he said his goodbye and left for the night.
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