The moon was bright, but couldn't outdo the green haze cast by the Breach yawning across the sky. An eerie glow filtered down and played its colors on the white hair of a lone figure standing on the wooden ramparts of Haven's outer walls. Wind gently shifted the snow coating the ground.

Faydren's chest was tight. She didn't want to think about Veran. Or Darius. Or that hole in the sky. Or the mark on her hand. She dug the heels of her palms against her eyes. If only everything would just go away! If only she had died at the Circle or at the Conclave. Whose cruel joke was it for all of this to come down on possibly the one person who would rather see the world fall to pieces - if only to match how she felt. Anger battled with despair for control of her heart.

Somehow Faydren's new mark could close these rifts. It felt like her hand was ripping apart, but she could do it. Now they wanted her help to close the sky itself. It needed to be done, but why did it have to be her! If she could tear out this mark and give it to someone else, she would do it gladly. Let them execute her if they felt the need. The Seeker and that Templar Commander had certainly seemed willing enough.

But she couldn't remove it. And the sky had to be fixed one way or another. Remaking the Inquisition, huh? What could possibly go wrong... At least Cassandra was willing to accept her innocence now. A defeated sigh escaped Faydren's lips, crystallizing in the cool air.

"Hey there, Stormcloud."

Faydren cringed. The dwarf had chosen that moniker for her quickly. She couldn't deny it was fitting, but it was odd to get a nickname from someone she barely knew. Turning to look down at him, she wasn't surprised to see the crossbow still on his back. Bianca, he had called it? It seemed to be a part of him as much as the chest hair was. Of course, that was another topic entirely...

"What is it, Varric?" Her voice was flat.

"I didn't see you eat anything tonight. You might want to keep your strength up, what with needing to save the world and all that," he grinned up at her easily.

"I'm fine," was the curt response.

"As a shameless first-class liar, it behooves me to say that you are terrible at it. Catch!"

Faydren's eyes widened as something dark sailed through the air at her face. Her hands came up instinctively and she grasped at the item, fumbling a few times and nearly dropping it before gaining a solid grip. On closer examination, it was a large chunk of bread. She hadn't felt hungry, but the warm bread did smell nice...

"Um. Thank you," she mumbled.

Varric had already turned and was walking away, but he nonchalantly waved a hand in response. She felt a twinge of guilt for not being nicer but quickly shut it out. It was just so much easier to feel nothing when everyone hated her...

Varric hadn't made it very far out of view before Cullen stepped from the shadows and matched the dwarf's pace. It might have been enough to startle the rogue if he hadn't already seen Cullen lurking there on his way over. The spot wasn't exactly made for hiding, however peeking around the corner did grant full view of a certain mage.

"Leaving your post, Commander? Not afraid she'll meet up with some demons or vanish into a rift once you're not looking?" he quipped.

"It never hurts to be cautious, Varric... She did injure a guard."

"Accident."

"How do you know?"

"Solas got a friendly little zap too. You don't see him crying about it. Besides, I seem to remember seeing a certain former Templar saved by a very well-timed spell. She'd probably be dead if it weren't for the elf's barrier, y'know."

"Well. Yes, but-" Cullen turned the conversation. "Why so protective? You've only just met her."

"Call it a hunch, Curly, but I think that girl's already seen enough bad happen for one lifetime. Add recent events on top of that, and I'd say she deserves a little protecting."

"We've all seen enough bad for a lifetime," Cullen spoke quietly.

"Believe me, I know... But we've also had time to come to terms with it."

Varric sighed and stopped walking, turning to face the former Templar. The two had met in Kirkwall and, though they hadn't had much interaction, Varric knew he was a good man. He also knew that whatever scars Cullen carried, they weren't all on the outside. It was something the dwarf had always been able to read on people. And something he saw in Faydren as well.

"I read Nightingale's report on Stormcloud. She lived in one of the calmest Circles in Thedas since age seven. According to all records, she was a model apprentice aside from some harmless pranks. Did you read the reports on the fall of Ostwick's Circle?"

"Yes," Cullen's face was grim.

"Then you know it was a slaughter that night. Trevelyan was listed among the presumed dead. Nobody is quite sure how she got out at all. You and I – hell, most everyone here – we chose how we wanted to live our lives. Everything we've run into was a result of that decision. So where was her choice?"

Cullen remained silent, eyes on the ground. Varric shook his head and rubbed his brow.

"Sorry, Curly. It's been a rough time for everyone. Didn't mean to bite your head off. Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"I was going to ask your thoughts on the matter. But it seems you already answered," Cullen's mouth curved into a lopsided grin. "There is one other thing though... 'Stormcloud'?"

"With a mood that grim and grey? How could I not. Plus, I know you've seen the lightning."

"Indeed," he chuckled and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Get some rest, Varric. We're not out of the woods yet."

"You could use some sleep yourself."

"I'll get around to it."

"Is everyone around here a bad liar?" Varric scoffed playfully and left.

Cullen paused for a moment before turning to look at the ramparts once more. Faydren still stood there, her back to him as she gazed somewhere outside the wall. After his talk with Varric, the woman looked less like a possible threat and more just... alone.

The next day, Cullen shifted his weight from one foot to another as he stood with Leliana and Josephine at the war table. He was all but pacing in place. Cassandra was bringing Faydren in to meet them all officially now that she'd agreed to join the Inquisition. Considering how their first meeting went, he was feeling more than a little anxious. What should he say? He couldn't erase the first impression he had given... but perhaps a fresh start now would soften it?

Varric and Cassandra were right. The woman more than deserved their trust after how much she'd risked that day. Not only did she save him with no thought for her own safety, she'd also nearly died trying to close the rift. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Leliana and Josephine met eyes questioningly, but chose not to pry.

The door swung open and Cullen straightened his posture immediately as the Seeker walked in with Faydren at her side. The pale scar across her face stood out against otherwise flawless dark olive skin. Piercing grey eyes landed on each member of the group for a moment before focusing on Cassandra.

"You've met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces," Cassandra began.

The gaze he received was cold and wary. Of course she decided to start with him... Cullen did his best to appear amiable and even smiled somewhat as he spoke.

"It was only for a moment on the field. I'm pleased you survived."

The look on Faydren's face went from politely neutral to pure shock as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He felt a pang of guilt at seeing such a strong reaction to his simple statement. Had she really thought he hated her so much?

The mage swiftly recovered, but her reaction did not go unnoticed by the astute ladies on either side of him as they both quirked an eyebrow in his direction. They were no doubt going to ask him about this later. Cullen cringed inwardly. Maker preserve him... The rest of the introductions proceeded normally before they dove into the heart of the matter – who to approach for assistance in closing the Breach.

Leliana wanted mages. Cullen thought Templars would be far more suitable and trustworthy. He had been one himself after all. Upon mentioning this, he was surprised to see no reaction from Faydren. The Commander had expected fear or concern, possibly hatred. She didn't even bat an eyelash. Had she been told?

The argument was interrupted as Josephine reminded them that who they chose didn't matter for the moment. They would be unable to recruit help from either group until they were legitimized. More discussion ensued on how to remedy the situation (Faydren was less than pleased with her new title as the 'Herald of Andraste'). Finally it was decided that the Herald would seek out a Revered Mother in the Hinterlands who was sympathetic to their cause. While there, she should look for other ways to improve their reputation among the people. Faydren didn't express much confidence in the plan, but at least she seemed willing to try.

The Herald of Andraste? They couldn't be serious. Not only was she a mage, she was also far from a pious Andrastian. It was difficult to feel any special love for the Chantry when it taught everyone to fear you. Faydren had overlooked that in the past, choosing to focus on its finer points. With things as they were now, it was hard to be so forgiving.

The title also made her more than a little uncomfortable. Walking around Haven, she gathered reactions varying from suspicion and doubt to awe and worship. Eyes were on her everywhere, waiting for either some earth-shattering mistake or a world-saving miracle. Faydren toyed with the idea of making a break for it, but she knew it wouldn't do any good now. Not to mention the guilt.

"So should I start calling you 'Herald' now?"

Faydren rubbed her eyes and sighed as she rotated to greet the familiar voice. Somehow she had ended up back on the ramparts. It was away from the stares at least.

"If you refuse to call me by my real name, I think I'd at least prefer the previous one you were using."

"Alright then, Stormcloud," Varric grinned cheekily. "Seems we have ourselves a mission. Going to the Hinterlands?"

"So it appears."

"You never know - it could be fun."

"Right. And I'm sure nobody will try to kill us while we're there," Faydren responded drily.

"I wouldn't go that far," the dwarf chuckled. "Did you enjoy discussing with our fearless leaders?"

"'Enjoy' is an interesting word choice. Informative I suppose," she looked thoughtful. "None of them seem to hate me anymore at least."

"Well that's a good start! Now we just need to get the Chantry on your side and you'll be unstoppable."

"You're not helping…"

The four companions walked quickly but cautiously through the mountainous countryside of the Hinterlands. Cassandra and Solas walked in front discussing various philosophical topics while Faydren lagged behind and Varric kept pace with her.

"You know, I'm not sure if our group could get any more conspicuous," the dwarf mused.

"What do you mean?" Faydren's eyes had been glued to the ground, but she raised them to look at him now.

"Well, there's the Seeker – a woman in full battle armor and one of the most intimidating people I know; Chuckles – a bald elf apostate who looks a bit like a vagabond; yours truly - a beardless dwarf with a gorgeous repeating crossbow name Bianca; and you, Stormcloud. You're certainly not the most generic human I've ever seen."

"We do tend to stick out a bit," Faydren nodded in agreement with his summation.

No sooner was this observation spoken than an arrow hissed past her face and Cassandra shouted for them to get down. She blinked once before swiftly dropping to a crouch, staff at the ready. A blue aura popped into place around each of them as Solas cast a barrier. Varric slung Bianca off his back easily and loosed a bolt in the direction of the archer. It struck him dead-on and the man dropped to the ground.

No other attacks came, but the group was wary as they crested the last hill on the path to the Crossroads. They came to a halt, taking in the scene before them. It looked like a battlefield. Ice spiked up from the ground while fire licked at the grass. Arrows practically carpeted the area, and bodies lay interspersed among the carnage.

"What has happened here?" Solas breathed.

"It's a war zone…" Varric mumbled.

"Looks like apostates," Cassandra's voice was tight.

"And Templars…" Varric kicked over the archer who had attacked them. The emblem on his chest was clear.

"But- why would the Templars attack us?" This clearly bothered the Seeker. Solas and Faydren looked at each other.

"Let us continue, Seeker. We must reach Mother Giselle," the elf spoke softly.

"Of course," Cassandra quickly refocused. They had a mission after all.

They ran into a few more altercations on their way to the Revered Mother's reported location. Both mages and Templars attacked indiscriminately, and it swiftly became clear they had no intention of listening to reason. With innocent people getting hurt in the conflict, there was no time to deal with them peacefully. The four cut a bloody swath through the battle lines – fire and lightning, blade and crossbow. Eventually their interference forced a temporary retreat among the warring factions.

By the time the Herald's entourage reached the refugee camp they were covered in sweat and dirt and completely exhausted. People looked at them with fear as they passed, unsure if they were about to be driven out again. This fear was allayed as a shout went up from a young man jumping down from a makeshift watchtower.

"They pushed them back! The Inquisition pushed the mages and Templars back!"

Murmurs of relief and gratitude filled the air around them as the refugees moved closer, smiling and bowing their heads. Faydren was extremely uncomfortable, unsure how to respond. The others thankfully had no trouble and they were soon brought before the Revered Mother. Before approaching her, their escort stopped and raised his hand.

"Mother Giselle wished to speak to the Herald alone."

Faydren's eyes looked to Cassandra questioningly. The Seeker gave a reluctant nod. This was clearly not to her liking, but it was best to comply. The Herald walked on alone. Without Cassandra there, Faydren was certain the Chantry mother would immediately see her for what she was – just a random mage who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her jaw tightened. At least it would be over quickly.

While they waited for the Herald to return, the others found other matters to attend to. Cassandra found one of Leliana's scouts and discussed defenses and patrols to be put in place around the Crossroads. Solas searched around the area for herbs and useful items to help the healers. Varric attempted to raise spirits by telling exciting tales to a large group of children – the parents seemed equally as interested.

The three had only just reassembled when their fourth's shock of white hair was spotted moving toward them. Seeing Faydren's face as she rejoined them, the companions were not hopeful. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were down. She slowed to a stop in front of them.

"I take it things did not go well," the Seeker's voice held thinly-veiled disappointment.

"Actually… she wants to help. She's meeting us back in Haven once her work is done here," Faydren looked up. She hadn't been distressed – she was confused.

"But that is excellent!" Solas replied warmly.

"Mission accomplished, Stormcloud," Varric grinned.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Faydren visibly relaxed somewhat. "Although…"

"What is it, Herald?" Cassandra ignored Faydren's look in response to the title.

"Is there… anything we can do here? I'm sure it would help the Inquisition's reputation. You said to do that too."

Though the words sounded self-serving, it was obvious to those watching that it was merely an attempt to mask the mage's desire to do something for the people hurting all around them. She knew what it was like to wake up and suddenly have no place to call home.

"I'm sure we can come up with something," Varric hid a smile and walked in the direction of a hunter standing over a cooking pot. "Let's ask around."

It was a couple of days before they returned to Haven. The motley group was exhausted but seemed pleased. The refugees were doing much better now, and they had even recruited some new agents. Inquisition forces had setup near the Crossroads and kept close watch for any trouble.

Faydren was practically asleep while walking. Of the party, she was the least accustomed to long journeys - but she had refused to ask for any extra breaks. The group had split up to rest, but Cassandra just sent a message asking to meet her in the War Room. Already on edge, the scene unfolding in front of the Chantry did nothing for her peace of mind.

Mages and Templars that had been taking refuge in Haven since the explosion were getting antsy. Some accusations were thrown and things were about to come to blows. Faydren reached for her staff warily. Hadn't she seen enough of this in the Hinterlands? Before anything drastic could happen, Cullen stepped between the two groups. The man certainly had an air of authority about him. He diffused the situation and the crowd began to move on.

Soon it was just Cullen and Chancellor Roderick speaking in heated tones while Faydren stood by cautiously. The Chancellor had already made his attitude toward her very clear. She had no issue returning the favor. Her static aura crackled slightly when the cleric came near, and her gaze was dark. He eased himself further away from her.

The conversation ended and Cullen turned to her with a tired half-smile. His change in attitude still surprised her, but it was not unwelcome. Without the scowl of distrust, he was actually quite good-looking. That realization was… unexpected.

"Maker willing, the walls will still be standing when you get back," the Commander joked.

"Get back?" Faydren's eyes narrowed. "From where?"

"Val Royeaux," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Faydren gave him a blank look.

"Oh. Then you haven't spoken to Lady Cassandra yet. We should go in," Cullen paused. "Actually, I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"You didn't seem surprised when I said I used to be a Templar. Did Cassandra tell you?"

"No," for a moment Cullen thought he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You act like one."

Faydren walked past him and into the Chantry. He hastily followed, not quite sure if her words were a compliment or not...