Amaryllis didn't sleep that night.
The door shut behind them and Cassandra took her post at the table, motioning toward the Commander and then the striking woman to the right who was holding a clipboard, her quill poised at the ready.
"You've met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces," the Seeker said.
"I'm pleased to see you alive and well," he said, nodding first at Ellana, then Amaryllis. "The both of you."
Ellana flashed him a small, diplomatic smile, while Amaryllis dipped her head at his acknowledgment.
"And this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."
Lady Josephine Montilyet was not as familiar to Amaryllis as the other two, but she remembered her to be the one who had sent her the truffle. And so, before the woman could answer properly, Amaryllis smiled and thanked her first.
The woman's lips twisted into an image sweeter than the chocolate itself. "You are more than welcome, Lady Amaryllis. It's a pleasure to meet you both at last."
"Amaryllis, please. I'm no lady."
"The same goes for me, in what ways I can get away with," Ellana added, ending on a grumble, her eyebrows furrowed. "I might not be able to do away with the title of Herald, but here, in this room, I want to be called by nothing but my name."
"Duly noted." A voice spoke from the shadowed corner–Leliana, who appeared before the table suddenly, as if she had only just chosen to materialize to participate in such an important moment. "Ellana. Amaryllis."
"Of course, you already know of Sister Leliana."
"My position here involves a degree of… secrecy."
"She is our spymaster," Cassandra finished for her.
"Yes… tactfully put."
Ellana smiled more genuinely, clearing her throat before murmuring pleasantries. Then, Cassandra leaned forward, placing her hands atop the table, and the meeting began.
It ended in an argument.
The Chantry had denounced Ellana as the Herald, along with the Inquisition. Heretics, they labeled them. Blasphemers. Leliana suggested approaching "rebel" mages for help. The Commander disagreed. Too much speculation on both sides, with no real solution past meeting with a cleric by the name of Mother Giselle in the hopes that she might just believe in a Dalish mage, and do what they could to make themselves known to the world as a cause worth believing in.
Amaryllis left the meeting with a lump of frustration in her throat, watching her sister's shoulders cave in on themselves as she tried to make herself smaller beneath the people's watchful gaze.
Their journey began on foot. Down through the Frostbacks, southeast toward the Hinterlands. Cold, at first, though Amaryllis had expected it to be. The journey to Haven had been just as terrible. But there had been a distinct change in not only herself, but her sister, when the snow had cleared as they descended the mountain range, allowing them to finally replace their thick-soled boots with their more familiar footwrappings.
In the evenings they made camp, lighting fires only when necessary as to not attract undue attention. At night they took turns sitting watch–Solas, Varric, Amaryllis, then Cassandra–while Ellana slept. She needed her strength more than the rest of them.
In the mornings they rose, packed their things, and quickly moved on. They ate their rations on the road. They stopped to pick herbs–anything that Amaryllis might find useful. Cassandra would stop to mark places on her map where important resources could be found. They ate their rations while they walked. Varric would tell stories. Cassandra would often scoff in disgust or roll her eyes, though Amaryllis had caught her more than enough times turning away to cover a smile or laugh or blush at something particularly outlandish. Solas would often check over the mark, sharing small, murmured conversation with her sister, while otherwise staying mostly quiet. Contemplative.
They ate their rations while they marched. Onward, onward, toward the Hinterlands. After the first day, Amaryllis no longer felt hungry, but ate anyway, knowing she needed the energy, but sorely missing something real and hot and satisfying. Something that didn't sit quite so heavily in her stomach. And while they ate, and all was silent save for their chewing, Amaryllis thought. She thought of many things–of the game, of what she remembered, but not of her sister. It was difficult to do, but not impossible. She had grown used to pretending, over the years. Pretending the past had all been a strange dream. A glimpse of her sister's grin, her mother's eyes, her father's hair–gone in a slight shake of her head. Gone the moment she looked up at the sun, allowed it to blind her momentarily, knowing it was bad for her eyes, knowing her father had once told her that same thing but in the moment it did, in the moment she blinked away the pain, the reminder was gone, and she could focus again.
Focus on the memories. Right, the memories. What did she remember of the story? What could she recall hearing or seeing past familiar faces and voices? Yet the more she thought, the more desperate she became.
Because it was nothing. Amaryllis remembered nothing.
She hadn't even gotten to say a proper goodbye to Emil. Not that she thought she deserved to–Creators, how long was she going to do this to herself? Was she really waiting for express permission to live her life?–but still. She hadn't even said goodbye. Who knew how long they would be gone for? Who knew if he would even still be there when they came back? Should she write him a letter? Should she apologize? Should she forget anything had ever happened?
Maybe that was for the better. This was war. There were far, far more important things at hand than this potential friendship. Far more important than having a friend to look forward to spending evenings with.
Yet. Still. She hadn't said a proper farewell. And yet, still, though she hadn't spoken to him since that morning, she had seen him in the distance, waving her off from the edges of the Templar encampment.
Emil deserved better.
Amaryllis fell into their shared bedroll, wanting to cry from the utter exhaustion that overwhelmed her. She hadn't slept more than a few hours each night, and it was never enough, but it couldn't matter–not now. Not out in the open like this, not while they approached roads their companions knew to be rife with danger.
Ellana turned toward her as if sensing her distress and pulled her sister close. Once Amaryllis' larger body was safely curled against Ellana's, the elf spoke.
"Stop thinking so hard and sleep," she murmured into her sister's hair.
"I wish I could," Amaryllis sighed. "Switch brains with me for a moment, won't you?"
"I'd rather not. I can only imagine what horrors lie beyond your thick skull."
Amaryllis laughed, cuddling deeper. "No thicker than yours."
Ellana was silent for a moment so long Amaryllis thought she had surely fallen asleep. She was almost close to drifting off herself when her sister did speak again.
"You never told me what you had been doing that night–the one you kept apologizing for." Amaryllis grimaced. "Though I've come to the conclusion it had something to do with that Templar I caught waving to you on our way out of the village."
"Well–I–he's not really a Templar, Lana, not anymore at least, and–"
Ellana chuckled. "I trust your judgment when it comes to most people, Lis, regardless of what I might think of them myself. I can say, at least, that he had a very cute smile. Please tell me something happened between the two of you."
"Why do you assume something happened?"
"Lis, you have never more than kissed another living being, and yet you are the most lustful creature I have ever met. Do you not recall drilling me for each and every detail of the second night of the Arlathvhen I spent with Clan Ethera's First?"
"Saeris," Amaryllis blurted, dissolving quickly into laughter she attempted to disguise by clearing her throat. "Right, yeah. That guy. I remember him."
"You so easily prove my point, wila."
"...if you must know…"
A pinch against her ribcage caused Amaryllis to squawk, failing quickly in her attempt to roll away from Ellana as she threw her leg over her sister's, trapping Amaryllis within her embrace.
"It's not that I must know, it's that I know that you're dying to share but are too busy worrying about our current predicament to do so on your own!"
Her smile fell as she worried at her bottom lip. Of course, Ellana knew. Amaryllis wanted to cry–tears gathered far too quickly in her eyes for her to deny it–so she allowed herself a swift, pathetic sniffle before she finally acquiesced. "We met because I healed him."
"What's his name?"
"Emil."
"What color are his eyes?"
"A bright green."
"How big was his cock?"
The question didn't phase her, really–it was expected, yet still, she choked on a bark of a laugh, thumping her head against Ellana's shoulder. "...the perfect size, I think."
"Amaryllis." It had been so very long since her sister had spoken her name fully. She pulled back to gaze into her sister's eyes, finding them dancing with mirth. "Tell me everything."
And so she did.
The war had spread more quickly than they had realized. They met Scout Harding–a dwarven woman very obviously dedicated to the Inquisition's cause–on the way but were only able to stop for a brief introduction. Mother Giselle, the wounded, and the refugees were all trapped at the Crossroads.
Harding placed her faith in the Herald. So did her people. So did the rest of the Inquisition.
Faced with what was to come, Amaryllis watched Ellana slowly deflate yet again, until she had curled so far inward that Amaryllis thought she might turn into a pill bug and disappear beneath a rock. For all the confidence her sister had always held, for the way she had squared her shoulders and puffed her chest, knowing that the clan would one day look up to her–
This was different. The weight of the world was upon her shoulders. And she would crumble beneath it.
Amaryllis took to her side, slid her hand into her sister's, and when she looked up, face pallid, Amaryllis squeezed their palms together, never breaking eye contact.
You are strong. You are brilliant. You are good enough. You were meant for this. And you will save the world.
Slowly, Ellana lifted her head and squeezed back.
Turning toward their party, she released Amaryllis' hand, took hold of her staff, and spoke with confidence unmatched.
"Quickly. We've no time to lose."
"We're approaching the Crossroads–Mother Giselle cannot be far."
Bodies littered the path before them. With each step, Amaryllis' feet sunk deeper into pools of their spilled blood. For once she wished she were wearing shoes.
Swiftly they rounded a corner, only to watch a soldier of the Inquisition fall to their knees before them, clutching the arrow protruding from their chest. Amaryllis darted forward, catching them before they fell–and though she shook with fear, her fingers were steady as they closed around the stem of the arrow, gently pulling it from their chest as her other hand conjured a healing spell. Bright blue light caressed their open wound, and Amaryllis watched with bated breath as the flesh closed, leaving nothing but the pink of a fresh scar behind.
The soldier clasped her arm briefly, flashing her a deeply grateful smile–and then they were reaching for their daggers upon the ground, rushing back into the fray.
"Mythal ama em'an," spilled from Ellana's lips like a curse. Before them Templars and mages fought, falling beneath the other's assault. "This is madness."
"Hold!" Cassandra cried, rushing forward with her shield bared. "We are not apostates!
But the Templars did not seem to care.
Solas turned to the mages, lifting a placating hand in their direction as if attempting to communicate that they meant no harm. "We are not Templars–we mean you no harm!"
Yet they, too, did not seem to hear. Templars drove forward, impaling anyone in their path. Mages cast their spells, uncaring of who or what lay before them. Inquisition soldiers fell.
Amaryllis moved before she could truly think, a barrier spell spilling from the tines of her staff, encasing the soldier she had just healed–a little too late. Screaming, they clawed at their armor as they were engulfed in flame, falling to the ground in a squirming heap.
"Stop. Stop! Stop!"
And yet… the people did not yield. Instead, they turned, and finally taking sight of their group, charged to strike them, too.
Slamming her foot into the mud, Amaryllis called forth a blizzard and encased the rebel Templars in ice.
It was after the rebels had fallen that the remaining soldiers erected the evidence of their victory–and the proof of their protection. The watchful eye of the Inquisition.
Amaryllis did not stay to see their banner fly.
A/N: Yet again, screw FFN for having terrible formatting that just DOES NOT WORK no matter what I do to try and make it work... my apologies for how off the formatting is, and how strange the story beats come across because of it. Again, this is better read on ao3. I'm just a slut for crossposting LOL