For-The-Dales

Just another Dragon Age blog. I'd die for a halla. Home of the dragon age Fanfiction "The Path Forward".

[yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite]

Halamshiral in 9:39

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[vio1315]

The obsession with proving there were warrior women in history is kinda weird, honestly. Like it’s cool where it happens and their life stories tend to be really interesting, but acting like women were just worthless if none of them fought in war is high key weird to me, and it is equally weird when fiction acts this way too.

Like there is more to life than death and violence. The women artists, craftsmen, business owners, nuns, wives/mothers they’re all really interesting too. And they were worth having around. Just because they didn’t go fight in battle doesn’t make them worth any less or anything…

[greater-than-the-sword]

THANK YOU

[beggars-opera]

This is the real sentiment behind “well-behaved women rarely make history.” It wasn’t about celebrating the radicals (though we should), it was about remembering the women who didn’t buck the system enough to get written about, but were so important to the fabric of society all the same.

[for-the-dales]

That quote in particular often gets attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, but it was written by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Harvard professor who’s approach to history has been described as a tribute to "the silent work of ordinary people"—an approach that, in her words, aims to "show the interconnection between public events and private experience." That quote is from a paper she wrote about Puritan funeral rites and women’s roles in them. She wrote a book more recently (2007) that’s kind of a response to the quote being taken out of context. It talks about women who were radicals, but it also highlights women who weren’t.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Thanks for giving me a chance ❤

[evermore-fashion]

Favourite Designs: Rayane Bacha ‘Medieval Reveries’ Fall 2019 Haute Couture Collection

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 14: Cassandra

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

Cassandra followed as closely as she could behind the Herald with Blackwall at her right. The further they had ridden down the hidden path the Herald had shown them the denser the canopy had become until it became more tunnel than forest. Cassandra guessed if she could have still seen the position of the sun, it would be directly overhead. Enough light came through the cracks in the branches that she could see, but it didn’t help alleviate the Seeker’s anxiety. It felt like the trees were getting closer to her. Like she was being watched. Her hand hadn’t left the pommel of her sword for the past hour.

“Herald,” Cassandra whispered, “Are you sure this is the right way?”

The Herald chuckled lightly and Cassandra could hear the amusement in her voice, “Yes, I am. What you’re feeling is the wards. Traveling with myself and the other priests lessens them, but does not erase their influence entirely. The discomfort will pass. Besides,” she whispered this last part, the happiness unmistakable in her voice, “we’re almost there.”

Cassandra did not believe she would ever become more comfortable with magic having so much influence over her mind. She heard Sera behind her cursing under her breath behind her. One of the priests traveling with them chuckled and Sera muttered, “Prig.”

The green tunnel twisted just enough that Cassandra couldn’t tell how far they’d come or how far it was until they reached the end, but she trusted the Herald. She would not lead them into a trap.

Cassandra glanced back at their escort. The contingent of strange elven warrior priests glared at their backs. Like Cassandra their hands had not left their weapons the whole morning. Sahren had tried to ease the tension through conversation, but the ice between the two groups hadn’t thawed in the slightest.

The Herald wouldn’t lead them into a trap on purpose, but the Seeker worried the Herald had overestimated her own people. Or perhaps underestimated how much her people hated humans.

Cassandra had heard about the massacre in the Anderfels. She hadn’t questioned the reports that placed the blame on darkspawn. After all, who else would be capable of such viciousness? She remembered one of the Grey Wardens who received the report with her scrutinizing some of the details, but no one had given her much credence. They should have listened to her.

But what would have happened if they had? If they had investigated and discovered it had been Dalish elves? The perpetrators, these priests, would have been able to hide in their temple. So who would have taken the blame?

Cassandra knew the answer well enough and it made her skin crawl. An innocent clan would have been found guilty. The adults would be considered murderers and slaughtered, the children taken and put in an alienage. Word would have reached these priests, and vengeance against humans would be demanded again, furthering the violence. It was endless.

What would it take for them to stop killing each other?

Cassandra’s eyes slid to the Herald inadvertently.

Those first few days after the first attempt to close the Breach when Cassandra had begun hearing the title ‘Herald’ murmured, she assumed everyone had meant the same thing.

The Herald of Andraste.

Now, upon reflection, she considered that some of those whispers meant something else. When the human soldiers spoke to each other it was to reassure each other. She was the Herald of Andraste, sent to close the Breach and set things right. But Cassandra remembered seeing two elven servants traveling with their Lord talking about her as well. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but they had not called her ‘The Herald’.

They called her ‘A Herald’.

A Herald.

Cassandra was beginning to suspect this woman meant many different things to many different people. What would ‘setting things right’ mean to servants working for cruel lords and ladies, for children forced into alienages, and innocent Dalish elves used as a scapegoat?

She suspected it meant something different than what the soldiers, lords, and ladies thought it meant.

Cassandra had been so deep in her own thoughts she almost ran into the Herald when she had slowed her pace. They had approached a solid wall of vines the size of a keep’s main door. The elf didn’t turn her head but Cassandra heard her clearly, “We’re here.”

The Herald raised her hands high with her palms facing towards her and bowed her head. Cassandra heard her muttering something in elvish, and she was reminded of watching the Revered Mother’s pray at the Grand Cathedral. She looked over her shoulder and for the first time the other priests weren’t glaring at her back, instead most of them and also bowed their heads and lifted their hands slightly. Even Arlanan had the grace to incline his head to at least appear respectful. It was clear enough that even if they didn’t respect the Herald, they respected the god they believed she spoke for.

As the prayer continued the tension that kept the vines in place began to ease until it was little more than a curtain. The Herald concluded her prayer, lifted her head, and lowered her hands before turning back to her companions. The stress of the arduous journey and the fear of what was to come seemed entirely absent from her mind as she smiled earnestly and asked the group, “Are you ready?”

Cassandra nodded, “Where you lead Inquisitor.”

The Herald pulled aside the vines with her staff and rod through, Cassandra and Blackwall on her heels. It took Cassandra a moment to adjust to the bright light after so long in the dim green tunnel. She had to blink her eyes several times, and even then she didn’t truly believe what she saw. They had emerged into what looked to be a massive crater. She had the vague memory of a tutor calling something like this a caldera. Underneath the thick vegetation that grew all over the tall walls of the crater, Cassandra could see the blackened rock left from a volcanic eruption. The explosion must have been monstrous when it occurred to leave such an impression in its wake. The expanse looked large enough to house everyone in Val Royeaux. Below the tunnel entrance they had all just come through tiered green fields and farms surrounded the edges of a great lake in the center with a grand building complex emerging from it.

No. Floating on top of it.

Cassandra blinked several more times to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. The buildings, like the farms, were tiered. A large expanse on the bottoms seemed dedicated to smaller buildings, courtyards, and markets. From the center of the floating courtyards emerged a large, black plateau with more levels of buildings that seemed to cling to the rock. At the very top and center was a massive tiered pyramid temple made of a red stone topped by a gleaming golden structure. All of the buildings made of stone seemed to be made of that same red stone and also had gold embellishments flowing through their designs, connecting them to each other. Flowers and trees grew bountifully from all layers of the small city and flowed over onto lower tiers. Canals and waterfalls made their way from the centermost temple all the way down to the lake thousands of feet.

None of it looked like it should exist in reality. Cassandra almost wanted to turn and ask the Herald if she had somehow taken them into the Fade. It looked like something out of myth. Though, that wasn’t far off, she remembered. This city was a remnant of the ancient elves, from long before humans ever came to Thedas. The Herald’s people believed their gods had made this and now looking at it, Cassandra could understand why they would think that. It looked like it could only have been crafted with divine help.

Cassandra almost jumped when she heard Josephine’s soft voice beside her, “Amazing. How has this faded from history?”

The Herald didn’t turn when she responded, “With great care and dedication.”

Arlanan scoffed, “Yes, thousands of years of it. All of which you have just thrown away.”

The man's scorn seemed to shake the Herald out of her thoughts and she finally turned back towards her companions, “We should get moving. Scouts will have already made for Evun’taron, the priests will be waiting for us.”

The Herald had just begun urging her halla down the path leading to the lake when Arlanan spoke up, “Are you sure you don’t want to take the underground entrance, Arani? You wouldn’t want to shock your people would you? Afterall, some of the people in that city have never even seen a human. It may disturb them. Think of the children, won’t you?”

The Herald paused and turned back to Arlanan, a smile plastered on her face, “Thank you Arlanan for your concern. However,” she brought her Halla right next to his and spoke so low Cassandra had to strain to hear her, “I do not hide my actions from my people. I stand by my decisions, I think that’s what makes a strong leader. Don’t you?”

The Herald’s large smile turned into a grin as Arlanan’s face soured. He nodded, “As you wish, Raj’ha’haren.”

“Good,” The Herald turned to Cassandra and the other’s from Skyhold, “let’s not delay any further.”

As their convoy carefully worked their way down the winding path to what seemed to be the main road in and out of the city, Cassandra scanned her eyes across the verdant fields and couldn’t see a single soul. Baskets and tools lay abandoned between the rows of trees heavy with fruit. Some looked as if they had been dropped in a hurry and carefully harvested produce lay scattered on the ground. A pit began to form in her stomach and Cassandra was painfully aware of the crunching of dirt under the hooves of their mounts. However, as they drew closer to the city Cassandra could begin to hear music and she saw brightly colored banners flying above the rooftops. First she could hear the drums, but as they got closer the strings could be heard as well. As they reached the bridge to cross into the city, Cassandra could finally hear the voices. Elves lined the edges of the floating platforms and sang and cheered and waved. Small boats laden with flowers emerged from the waterways that wove between the platforms, older teens and adults rowed children close to the bridge so they could get a better look.

They were jubilant.

The priests who had escorted their party began to unhitch their aravels from their halla, but the Herald did not wait for them. She rode forward, her spine straight and her head held up high. There were what seemed to be guards keeping people from flooding the bridge. One of the boats came close enough to the bridge that the child could throw a bouquet to their party. Blackwall caught the little bundle of flowers and blushed, he waved to the little girl who squealed and fell back into her caretakers lap giggling madly. Cassandra couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. The Herald turned to smile at another passing boat and Cassandra could see the beaming smile she wore. She shone from the inside out. Her dirty travel cloak may as well have been the richest of silks for all that she appeared a queen greeting her people.

When they crossed the threshold of the city that had seemed divine and untouchable from a distance transformed into a vibrant and active community. Garlands of flowers hung between buildings and crowds lined the main street that led their convoy up and through the city. Cries of, “Raj’ha’haren! The Raj’ha’haren is home!” carried through the streets and from windows. All of the adults and older teens in the crowds had some degree of tattooing across their faces, and some extended to other parts of their bodies as well. Many of those gathered had the same markings as the Herald, though not as extensive. The crowd was a rainbow of bright clothes, all of which seemed to be loose and light weight to accommodate the hot and humid weather of the jungle. There didn’t seem to be any distinction between what the men and women wore, though Cassandra remembered the Herald explaining that her people didn’t believe in just two genders, so she supposed it wouldn’t be surprising that the clothes wouldn’t be defined by gender either. It did not seem odd for people to walk around without anything covering their chests. Cassandra glanced over her shoulder and saw that Cullen’s ears had turned red and Lelian chuckled at him.

As they moved through the city Cassandra noticed that all the lower levels seemed to be markets and communal gathering places, while the buildings that lined the central mesa seemed to be more residential. The Herald greeted several people by name as they made their way up to the building complex at the top of the mesa. The path to the great red and gold temple was lined with gleaming golden statues of a woman with a strange, dragon like head. The temple towered over them, and smaller similar buildings were dispersed around the top of the mesa among abundant courtyards and shady verandas. Elves dressed in long, thin, red robes stood on the tiers of the main temple. Their garments varied in style, but all were the same crimson and all revealed much of their arms, chests and legs. Cassandra guessed it was to reveal the extensive tattooing on their bodies, the Herald had told her it was denotation of rank within their religion. Many also wore glittering gold trinkets throughout their hair and on their bodies.

In the center at the base of the stairs stood an ancient woman. Deep creases lined her russet face and mixed in with the numerous lines of black ink that flowed across it. A crown of thick white braids wrapped themselves around her head and large, warm brown eyes peered at them as the group approached. The Herald held up her hand to signal for her companions to stop, then slid gracefully off her Halla. Cassandra and the others followed her example, and attendants in crimson dresses came and took their mounts. The Herald approached the woman and a quiet settled over the crowd. She stopped in front of the woman and sunk down to both knees and lowered her head until it touched the tops of the old woman’s feet. Cassandra looked to Josephine for a hint if they needed to also kneel, but the ambassador looked around and couldn’t seem to find an answer either.

Before either could make a decision on what to do, the old woman spoke, “Welcome home lethal’lan.”

The Herald lifted her head, beaming at the woman, “Hello Elithanasha.”

This was the elves Divine. Cassandra could see it now. She was a short woman, all of the others in the courtyard towered over her, but she had a presence that could not be ignored. Her skin was old and withered, but her eyes were sharp and sliced up to study her successors' companions. She drank them in, one by one, and Cassandra fought the impulse to squirm under her calculating gaze. Finally she nodded and extended her hand down to the Herald. The Herald took it and stood as the old woman used her other hand to beckon Cassandra and the rest of the party forward. As the group moved to join the Herald, the woman ascended just a few steps up the temple. She turned back to the still quiet crowd and let her gaze slowly rake over them all.

“Today is a monumental day.” She began, “No outsider has ever breached the walls of our city in its history. And many have died to keep it his way.”

Nobody breathed.

“And yet,” She continued, “Today my Raj’ha’haren personally escorted these twelve to the steps of our most sacred sanctuary.”

Cassandra could see Cullen getting nervous out of the corner of her eye. She watched him evaluate the odds if a fight broke out and she watched the creases in his brow grow deeper.

The old woman looked back down on their small group and finally smiled, “And I am glad she did.” She flung open her arms, “Welcome!”

Josephine looked like she might have fainted from relief as the crowd erupted once more in applause and cheers. The Herald turned back to them, grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright,” she said, “time to get started.”

Elvhen Used:

Evun’taron- The name of the Temple of Mythal, literally means “The Moon’s Twin”

Arani- casual term for “my friend”

Lethal’lan- term for family like members of a clan

So, this was very late. Sorry everyone. I got a little stuck when I was getting ready to move and figured I'd be able to finish once I got all settled in my new city and job. Then the rest of 2020 happened. It's been a lot and kinda punched me in the face. I am still working on this though, don't worry. Things are about to really take off so hold onto your hats.

[daybreakx]

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 13: Ellana

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

           Ellana may have been the only person in the absurdly large company who wasn’t wriggling out of her skin with discomfort. She was nervous, she had been gone for months and surely much had changed, but she wasn’t uncomfortable.

           It couldn’t have changed that much, right?

           Sera, on the other hand, looked like she would take off into the thick woods surrounding them at any given moment never to be seen again. Ellana had to work not to smile. The only person keeping Sera from fleeing the overwhelming elfyness was Rasa, who had been paying particular attention to the other rogue recently. Unfortunately Rasa wasn’t anywhere to be seen this morning, and Ellana was pretty sure Bull only sat next to Sera so he could grab her if she darted.

           When the invitation had arrived. An awkward conversation followed.

Ellana had explained to her advisors that the chief priestess of her order had invited her to bring her new friends for a visit. Cullen was, of course, nervous about leaving Skyhold when they had only just begun setting up. However, the overwhelming need for more people and supplies allowed Ellana to win the argument that they should go.

Cassandra agreed through gritted teeth and stormed out.

           It was a good idea.

           Even if they would be the first ever shemlen to enter into the sacred Temple of Mythal.

           And most of them would rather not have that distinction.

           Everything would be fine.

           Ellana had been putting off telling the others exactly what they would meet when they arrived, but they were almost there and were likely beginning to suspect it was not a ragtag group of elves piecing together old ruins.

Everyone had come along. Ellana’s advisors had left capable seconds to take care of the business of setting up Skyhold for the month or so it would take the Herald of Andraste to go on her “holy pilgrimage”. They’d made quick work getting down the mountains and into the vast forest of the Dales, but then they’d met up with their escort.

           Ellana didn’t see Deshanna’s hand in that. No, this had Soutuelan written all over it. A display of power.  Deshanna must not have been able to keep it quiet that she had invited humans to one of the People’s holiest sites. If he was involved it would make all of this that much more difficult. It had already started to.

           Still, to send this man to “escort” her was brazen and disrespectful to her office and priesthood. She only knew the leader of this company by reputation, and she would have preferred to keep it that way. She knew them by the red outlines of their Vallaslin. The Sulema’Din. Ellana felt her stomach twist and had to fight down the bile in her throat. Any hope that the journey would be a peaceful dissipated like morning dew on a hot day.

           A company of ha’haren of Elgar’nan had met them in a clearing in the Dales, shaded by an ancient Elvhen aqueduct. If Ellana hadn’t been so annoyed, she could have admitted it was an impressive sight. They emerged from around the ruins wearing gleaming ironbark armor. The iron-like wood had currents of silver running through it’s groves and made the warriors shimmer in the afternoon sun like the creek that ran nearby. They were armed to the teeth. They looked like something out of myth.

They looked dangerous.

           Sahren was thrilled to be reunited with the other ha’haren of his order, but Ellana was slower to approach them. It was her signal alone that kept her companions from drawing their weapons. Sahren didn’t seem to realize until he was almost to his comrades that the tension was thicker than honey. Ellana scanned the faces of the ha’haren, she knew a few by name, but not many. She had no friends with them. The red paint on their faces was so dark it looked like blood, and knowing of this company’s reputation, it could have been.

           He stood in front of his company.

           The Raj’ha’haren of Elgar’nan. Arlanan.

           This was a man who had earned his name. Ellana took a slow breath and fixed a sweet smile on her face as she reached him. She placed one hand over her heart and extended the other. She had earned her spot too. She would not be intimidated by a thug.

           “Arani,” she greeted, “how good it is to finally meet you. Did the Elithanasha send you all the way here simply to meet me?”

           Arlanan smiled back at her and she saw that the rumors were true, he had filed his canines to vicious points, “Of course, Da’lath’in, we all just want you and your,” Arlanan glanced over Ellana’s shoulder and disdain dripped in his voice, “new friends to arrive safely.”

           He turned back to look at her, smiling again. Ellana bristled at the demeaning name, but bit her tongue. She wouldn’t rise to his taunts. Sahren stood nearby and his face twisted. Arlanan turned to give orders to some soldiers behind him and Ellana caught Sahren’s eye, and shook her head.

           Now was not the time to start fights, especially not with a Raj’ha’haren. It was at least a weeks journey to the temple, and Ellana didn’t need any more animosity making it worse. Especially not with this man and his lackeys. The company had brought extra Aravel’s with them to accommodate Ellana and her companions, and they made quick time across the Dales, skirted the Western Approach, and on into the Tirashan. The great forest. Ellana had spent the whole time keeping her companions and the ha’haren as separate as possible. It had been exhausting, but necessary. She knew these were not the sort of people to tolerate even a vague whiff of disrespect.

           Ellana looked up at the last star in the sky and offered up a short prayer to Mythal. They would reach the temple by late afternoon. She closed her eyes and focused on what she knew.

She knew she could no longer put off this conversation. She knew her fellow priests would be welcoming. She knew few others would be the same. She knew they could not leave the temple without the aid of her people.

She knew Mythal had chosen her for this. This is what she had saved her for, what she had delivered her to her temple for. She was going to change things.

She was a Herald.

Ellana looked around the campfire at her companions finishing their breakfast. The rest of the camp was already bustling and getting ready to head out, so the chaperones that had been taking turns watching their party were blissfully busy. Sahren was with the other ha’haren packing up and Rasa had slipped away. Ellana was worried about them. She knew Rasa had missed their brother while they’d been apart for their training. She could see the bitterness in Rasa’s face when they saw how their brother joked and flowed with the movement of the other in his order. Ellana did not care for them as a whole, but Sahren seemed to have found somewhere he was happy. Rasa had not, and was hurt that their brother had found a place of ease so far away from his twin. Rasa had spent most of the trip sulking, and Ellana didn’t have the slightest clue where they’d slipped off to this time.

           Still, there wasn’t going to be a better time.

           Ellana examined the faces of her friends. She sighed and started, “So I’m assuming you’ve picked up on the fact that this visit isn’t just a big deal for the Inquisition?”

           Cole, the strange spirit boy that had helped them at Haven, nodded solemnly. His hat flopped on his head. Josephine sat next to him, to polite to move when he had sat next to her, and shifted slightly before answering, “We have.”

           Bull set his bowl down and leaned forward, “What are we in for boss?”

           Ellana took a moment to choose her words carefully before answering, “I’ve told you that we are going to the Temple of Mythal, the last one standing as far as we know. It’s one of our holiest sites. The priests of Mythal run it, and we serve primarily as the high courts for the People. Any issue that can’t be solved by a clan’s Keeper is brought to us, and we are typically the deciding factor in how to respond to any human aggression. Of the eight priesthoods, we are typically considered to be one of the most influential. The Dalish listen to us.”

           “So you’re a priest and a judge?” Varric asked, “Wow, Seeker, you really couldn’t have picked out a better chosen one.”

           Cassandra growled, “I didn’t choose-”

           Ellana interrupted before they could get off topic, “As I was saying, we are one of the most influential orders. The other most influential order is the priesthood of Elgar’nan.”

           Cullen chimed in, “That’s the soldiers we’ve been traveling with, right?”

           Ellana nodded, “Right. We are respected for our wisdom, and they are respected for their might. They also tend to,” She paused, considering how to phrase the fact that most of them hated anyone not an elf, “err on the side of caution when it comes to... outsiders.”

           The strange spirit boy, Cole, spoke up, “Horrid, cruel monsters. They destroy everything in their path. Only good human is a dead one.”

           Everyone turned to stare at the boy for a moment before slowly turning back to Ellana.

           Ellana sighed, “Yes, that. Thank you Cole.”

           “You’re welcome.”

           Josephine asked, “If they hate us why are they escorting us to their holiest site?”

           “Because you were invited. ” Ellana answered.        

Vivienne examined her nails as she spoke, “A complex legal structure? A military arm?” she looked up and studied Ellana, “My dear, one could almost begin to hope we are not going to be sleeping in little wooden carts for the next few weeks?”

           Ellana looked at Solas. He was the only one she’d spoken to in depth about her home. Sahren and Rasa might have talked to the others, but she doubted it. Solas just nodded slightly. Ellana took a breath and answered the other mage, “Because you’re not. Our temples have been continuously inhabited by priests since the fall of Arlathan. Many priests are direct descendents of the original priests who ruled there. They are no village Chantry. They are small cities. They are sites of pilgrimage and commerce. We have residents that work to support the priests who still lead them. We have public baths, barracks, schools, markets, and farms.”

           Varric whistled low and Sera piped up, “That’s got to be shite. If you’re all doing so nice and pretty in your fancy elf cities, how come no one knows about you?”

           “Because the only way to find a temple is to be taken there by a priest. It’s a very old enchantment, from before the fall of our empire. Many believe these enchantments were put in place by the gods themselves to keep our people safe.”

           Josephine looked a little pale as she asked, “Inquisitor, when was the last time a priest brought a human to one of these temples?”

           Ellana answered even though she suspected Josephine knew what she would say, “You all will be the first.”

           No one spoke.

           Ellana spoke first, “So I know it goes without saying, but please everyone, best behavior.”

           Everyone except nodded except Sera, who simply muttered, “Piss.”

           Ellana continued, “You haven’t even heard the worst part.”

           Cullen buried his head in his hands and Ellana had to strain to hear him ask, “What else?”

           “My Elithanasha, Deshanna Istimaethoriel, got us the invite. But if we’re going to get the help we need, we're going to have to convince the rest of the Elithanasha, for the first time ever, to insert themselves into the rest of Thedas’s affairs. That would include convincing Elithanasha Soutuelan, the leader of the priesthood of Elgar’nan. He controls our soldiers and if he doesn’t side with us, even if he’s out voted, his priests more than likely won’t help.”

           Josephine looked like she might cry, or have a panic attack, or both. Leliana sat beside her and took her hand. The ambassador took slow and deep breaths, Ellana sympathized.

           Iron Bull let out a laugh from deep in his belly, “Great! Sounds like fun.”

           Sera leapt to her feet and shouted, “Piss! No! I ain’t doing this!”

           Bull grabbed her arm as she moved to run.

           “Calm down kid, we’ll be fine.” Bull turned from Sera to Ellana, “Besides, I have a feeling our job is mostly going to comprise of not talking and staying out of the boss’s way.”

           Ellana nodded, “Pretty much. If you’re spoken too, be polite and respectful, but other than that you’ll be given your own quarters and feel free to spend most of your time there.” She turned to where Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen sat, “I will need you though. I’ll be presenting a case to the Elithem Sul’anasha’an about why this is a good idea, and as the other leaders of the Inquisition I will need you to answer their questions and help me explain to them why this is a good idea.”

           Cullen looked a little ill but nodded, as did Josephine. Leliana turned away from her friend to Ellana and said solemnly, “We won’t let you down Inquisitor.”

           Ellana smiled and nodded, “I know.”

           She knew they would do their best.

The others began to relax, but Ellana wasn’t done, “You will be baited. Most obviously by the priests of Elgar’nan, but by others too. You can’t bite. Please avoid associating me in anyway with the Chantry, don’t preach about Andraste, don’t bring up politics, Teveniter, mages, templars, or really anything involving the ‘glory’ of human history.”

           Ellana gave pointed looks to Cassandra, Dorian, and Vivienne who each nodded in turn. Ellana sighed and leaned back a little, “Good.”

           Everything would be fine.

           They finished their meal in silence and began to clean up. Everyone was just starting to relax when Arlanan sauntered over, his wicked grin pasted firmly on his face. His teeth shone in the firelight. He looked exactly like the elvhen horror story Josephine had described during her first private conversation with Ellana.

           “Good!” He chirped, “You’re all up and ready to go. Wheels roll in half an hour.”

           He turned his focus to Ellana, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to see your home again, Da’lath’in, I know how much your Elithanasha has missed you. Though,” he said with a tone of false speculation, “with how busy you’ve been I wonder if you’ve had any time to miss her.”

           He cocked his head like he was in thought before turning on his heel and walking away. Ellana’s spine crawled and she couldn’t hold back an unprofessional grunt.

           Iron Bull stood next to her, “What an ass. You sure you don’t want me snap him in half boss?”

           Ellana nodded, “I’m sure. He’s aggravating, but he’s not our biggest problem.”

           “You shouldn’t fight him,” Cole said, suddenly appearing on Bull’s other side and Ellana swore she saw Bull jump just a little, “A name born from the screams of scared people fleeing a burning village. He had so much hate. He wanted them to suffer. He remembers the violence fondly, like a child remembering a childhood story.”

           Bull’s gaze slid from Cole slowly to Ellana. She didn’t need to turn to notice the sudden lack of movement and noise behind her.

           “It was when he was an initiate. A few Dalish hunters were killed by some humans in the Anderfels. He tracked the humans with a few other initiates back to the village they lived in. They attacked at night and butchered almost every single person in that little town. The only reason there wasn’t another exalted march on elvhen was because they were so brutal that the survivors thought they had been darkspawn. The Elithanasha of his order promised the Elithanasha of ours that he would find a way to control his overzealous new priest. That it had been a mistake born of anger. He had only wanted retribution for the lives the shemlen had stolen. The Elithanasha agreed on the condition that it would never happen again. Soutuelan made him Raj’ha’haren within a year. That was five years ago.”

           Ellana turned and everyone was staring at her in varying degrees of horror. Josephine gasped out, “He’s a murderer.”

           Ellana nodded and explained plainly, “He is. And you cannot call him that. His Elithanasha convinced many that he was in the right. That after all the violence done against the People over the years, they should learn to fear us a little more. There are still priests in high positions that agree with that school of thought, and Elithanasha Istimaethoriel has kept that inclination at bay for a long time but it is growing stronger.”

           Josephine was pale again as Ellana continued, “I really cannot overstate how careful you have to be. You will not be walking into a city of allies. This may be the most dangerous thing I’ve ever asked of any of you.”

           Blackwall spoke for the first time, “We have your back my lady, where you lead we’ll follow.”

           Ellana smiled, he was a kind man. The others wandered off and Ellana just stood and watched them disperse.

           She really hoped this would work out.

           She loved her home, and she loved her people, but she knew how important the Inquisition’s work was. She didn’t want to have to pick.

           Solas kept glancing back over her way and she had to keep herself from grinning. Now wasn’t the time for this. She couldn’t focus on the clever mage who seemed to know a great deal about everything. She had too many other more important things to focus on, like not letting this alliance fall apart before it began and keeping her people and the rest of Thedas safe from an insane blighted Magister.

           Still, she smiled just a little to herself when she was sure no one was looking. She could allow herself that. One smile. That’s all.

--------

We finally got to Ellana! This is part one of a few. We're gonna stick with her for the majority of the time at the temple. This is the big breaking point from canon y'all. Get ready. Also, sorry for being a little slow to update. It took a new decade for me to have a heart to heart with myself and I swerved from an opportunity that was gonna be a bad direction for me, but the following clean up has been a little hectic. There's a good chance updates might slow for the next month or two. I should be able to pick back up after that.

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Elvhen used

Soutuelan- the creator’s strength (name)

Sulema’Din-  To bring death/ death bringers/ Reapers

Ha’haren- casual term for priest

Raj’ha’haren- casual term for high priest

Arlanan- home of vengeance (name)

Arani- my friend, used for more casual acquaintances

Da’lath’in- little heart, describes someone emotional, wears their heart on their sleeve, or is very sympathetic to others. Normally used for children.

Elithanasha- casual term for chief priest

Elithem Sul’anasha’an- plural formal term for chief priest

Next Chapter: https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/618668311403692034/chapter-14-cassandra

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 12: Cole

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

You are drowning.

The horrors they have all witnessed pull at you like angry and desperate claws.

There are too many. Clawing up your body and around your throat.

You can’t breathe.

A little girl is crying. People are saying scary things to her and she doesn’t understand. It’s not right. She can’t find mummy. I can’t find mummy. I just need to find mummy. Mummy is brave. Mummy is soldier. Mummy’s such a good soldier she was picked to keep one of the fancy people safe. Mummy will make the scary things go away.

The girl is crying in an alcove, exhausted and alone. You hold her as she cries and sing the songs her mother sang whenever she was scared. You find her a blanket. It’s worn, but warm. She’ll be warm. You tell the kind old woman taking care of the orphans where to find her.

She lost a child. But that was the Blight. It is an old hurt. A scar rather than an open wound. She doesn’t need you.

She will give all the love she had for her son to these children.

The letter is almost here. The messenger is making his way up the mountain.

A man sits alone in the library drinking wine. The room is still dusty and broken down. But he just wants to be alone. I’m better alone. I wonder what my father will think of this? Surely word would have reached home by now. This is so important, I hope he’s proud. Foolish. Stupid. I’ll be a disappointment, as always. Damn. Should have grabbed two bottles of the red.

You take the bottle to keep it from slipping out of his fingers and shattering on the ground. He’s so drunk it’s easy to make sure he doesn’t see you.

You tell him that what he’s doing is important. He knows that in his heart, and that’s what’s most important. It’s understandable that he wants his father to be proud of him. Every child wants their parents approval. But first and foremost he needs to be confident in his own decisions. He knows himself best. And he is making the right decisions.

He is similar to Alexius, but only in the good ways. He is the best of what Alexius taught him. He won’t make the same mistakes.

The man slumps into the dingy old chair and holds his head in his hands.

Better, but not fixed.

None of this could really be fixed.

You just want to help.

Another hurt grips you and drags you from the library and through the stone halls. Too many are pulling at you. You don’t know which one has won out.

You slide past the old wolf in the rotunda. He looks you in the eye with pity as you pass.

He sees you.

And then you don’t feel his hurt anymore. You’re sad you can’t help, but a little relieved because there was so much of it.

The messenger’s halla is tired. The two of them have been riding for days, but the message is important.

You are dragged down the stairs past the Wild Card. Her fire still burns bright, but she hides it more now. She is scared. It’s all wrong. Too real. Too complicated. Too scary. Herald’s don’t tell you everything is the same and that’s that. They bring new things. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for new. Piss. Too much.

You get pulled along past the Ambitious one. She has been away too long now, with no end in sight. She wonders if the ambition is worth it. She thinks of the kind man, the only one to ever see her weep. He is alone. So is she.

The Resolve stands near her, decidedly resolved. His hurts are old, but you won’t be the one to help him.

She will.

Something in your stomach turns. You didn’t know your stomach could turn. Or that you had one.

The Muscle leans against the old wood watching his family train. He doesn’t like to call them that. It hurts too much to think of them like that when he knows he’ll need to leave someday. You’re being pulled quickly but you have enough time to let him know one thing.

He doesn’t have to leave them.

The Believer shimmers as she strikes the practice dummy. She wants to beat out her own insecurities, but that isn’t so easy. She is struggling to decide what she believes recently. What direction Andraste is trying to guide her in. She has more in common with the Wild Card than either would likely be comfortable with. She is meant to be a bulwark of faith, but she fears her foundation is crumbling. And she doesn’t know if she should hate the other woman for it.

You whisper past her as you’re pulled upwards. Faith isn’t a crumbling castle, it is an ocean. It is enduring and capable of change.

You burst into the air and gasp at the sunrise.

The messenger has left his halla at the base of the mountain. She can recover there while he finishes this last leg.

Two friends sit hidden in the tallest room of the furthest tower. They giggle over ale and old stories. There is so much pain between the two of them. Lost family. Lost friends.

But there is love.

They do not burn with it, but glow.

It is warm and comforting, it helps the pain.

You smile and take a moment to soak it in.

You are ripped from the happiness and pulled down into ash and smoke.

The woman’s fine clothes are stained with soot and blood.

That will be hard to get out, she thinks as another soldier is cut down in front of her, she didn’t know her name. She only knew a few of the others in her escort.

The roof of a hut near her collapses in and the fire rages as high as the pitch of the scream from within.

The woman in fine gold clothes is ushered into the Chantry as her escort runs back into the chaos to help more people. None of them will survive this.

The Ambassador’s clothes are clean now, she is spotless, but she can still see the stains. Her hands can barely hold a quill as she stares at the spot on her sleeve where the embers had landed and left holes. The holes are gone now, but she still sees them. She sweats from the heat of the fire. It’s still burning all around her.

I was useless. What good are words in the face of a dragon and its god-like master? What use am I?

You steady her hands and remove the quill, it’s dripping ink will only stain the letter she’s been working so hard on. You remind her how important this letter is. It will get the Inquisition the supplies it so desperately needs. They don’t have the people yet, but this will help to feed and heal the people already here. That’s important.

They couldn’t do this without her. A war is more than swords and battles.

Cullen may lead on the battlefield, Leliana may gather secrets, but in politics and allies you are the war chief.

She can mourn those she lost, she can fear what is coming eventually, that’s to be expected.

But these things cannot paralyze her, not when she is so desperately needed.

The woman in gold takes slow and calming breaths, and picks up the quill again.

The messenger has reached the gates.

There are so many shemlen here, and he is afraid. But there are enough refugees that no one pays him any mind.

They think he is another convert arriving to see the Herald of Andraste in person. They do not care to learn what his vallaslin mean.

That his devotion is to Ghilan’nain and his people.

He mutters a prayer for safety. This is his first important assignment, and he can’t make any mistakes.

A crowd gathers around the base of the stairs leading to the massive stone fortress. People are whispering and he doesn’t know what’s happening. He clutches his satchel closer. He only brought a small knife for cutting plants and self defense if absolutely necessary. The Elithanasha always says that the shedding of blood is the gravest of all sins, but being here among all these strangers he understands better than ever why people turn to it in fear.

He takes a breath, he is not so weak.

Two shemlen women walk down the steps, the one in gold says something to the hooded one before descending the remaining steps and approaching a blonde shemlen man towards the front of the crowd. Another shemlen woman, this one broad with dark hair, walks through the crowd.

The messenger can just barely see ear tips following her.

His heart sings in hope.

His hopes are proven to be true when the elvhen woman follows the dark haired shemlen up the stairs and he can see her more clearly.

The Raj’ha’haren of Mythal.

He wants to weep, she’s really safe.

The shemlen woman guides her up the stairs where the hooded one has revealed a sword. The Raj’ha’haren looks to the dark haired one and her brow is furrowed as she speaks to her. The dark haired one nods and continues talking.

The crowd is getting more fervent and you feel their fears and hurts abide for a moment as they all revel in the same balm.

Hope.

The Raj’ha’haren reaches out her hand and hesitates for a moment before clasping the handle of the sword. Her other hand joins the first as she lifts it.

Why would the humans give her a sword when she will never use it, the messenger wondered. She can barely lift it. He supposed it was a symbolic thing.

Her face shows some strain but she does lift the sword up in front of her. They all begin to cheer and the messenger wonders what they know that he doesn’t.

The Raj’ha’haren takes her time turning to the crowd as she gazes thoughtfully at the sword she’s holding. After a moment she raises her eyes to gaze at the crowd. The people gathered fall silent, anticipating her words.

“The Inquisition,” she begins, speaking with strength and conviction, “will stand for all of Thedas. As we face Corypheus and his army, we cannot be torn apart by old prejudice and hate. We must be an example to everyone of the strength of true unity. The strength of understanding and cooperation. I am an elf. And I am an elf that will stand between Thedas and all the horrors of the Fade if need be. Will you stand with me?”

Her final words incite cheers throughout the crowd and you are lifted with them. It’s like being back in the fade and you are floating with their aspirations.

The dark haired woman shouts over the cheers, “Have our people been told?”

The woman in gold shouts in response, “They have! And soon, the world!”

The dark haired woman calls out again, “Commander, will they follow?”

The blonde man in the crowd turns to the crowd and raises his arms and shouts, “Inquisition, will you follow?”

Cheers!

“Will you fight?”

Louder now!

“Will we triumph?”

The shouts are thunderous and the messenger has to cover his ears as the blonde man continues over the cacophony, “Your leader, your Herald,” the man pulls out his sword and points it up towards the Raj’ha’haren, “your Inquisitor!”

The Raj’ha’haren looks down at the crowd smiling serenely and allows them this moment of happiness and hope before she turns with the two shemlen woman to walk up the stairs.

The messenger allows the crowd to disperse as what just happened settles in his thoughts.

The Raj’ha’haren has been chosen to lead an army of humans. In the name of their god. The messenger’s blood runs cold.

You walk up beside him and take his hand. You remind him that she has been the Raj’ha’haren of Mythal much longer than she has been any sort of Herald of the human god. She has not changed. She was chosen for the position because of her wisdom, so she must surely have a plan. She will only ever act in a way that helps the people, and if she thinks this will help them, the messenger will trust her.

She will never turn her back on her people

You watch the messenger work his way through the human crowd. The message he carries will test that hope.

He finds the Raj’ha’haren in the main hall. She is surprised to see him, but warmth fills her to see another of her people in this cold human fortress. She misses the warm jungles of home and the crystal waters of the lake. When she embraces him, she can still smell the hibiscus in the leather, he must have been sent from her temple.

The advisors look confused but are respectful enough not to interrupt as the messenger solemnly pulls a scroll from his bag. And kneels as he presents it to the Raj’ha’haren.

The Raj’ha’haren is confused as she takes it.

The messenger tells her, “It is from the Elithem Sul’anasha, with the utmost urgency.”

A chill runs down the Raj’ha’haren’s back as she rips open the scroll with not near as much ceremony as it was presented with. She says a prayer in a heart that nothing has happened to Deshanna, she couldn’t handle that right now. She didn’t know if she ever could. She scans the letter rapidly and you see no reason to step in, there will be no hurt today.

There is fear, but nothing that the Raj’ha’haren can’t handle, she hopes.

She must simply invite her new friends home.

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Elvhen used:

Elithanasha- shorthand for chief priest

Raj’ha’haren- shorthand for high priest

Elithem Sul’anasha- formal title for chief priest

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Hoped y’all like it! Next chapter is Ellana’s and i’m so excited!

Chapter 13 (Ellana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/190320198054/chapter-13-ellana

[ao3commentoftheday]

This is always the best email in my inbox when it arrives.

Thank you to the commenters! You make my day!

[intrepidmare]

No matter the hour you get them is always great, but especially in the mornings, just when you wake up and find a notification. That makes my day. It’s like a talisman for whatever not-so-good thing that may come later that day.

[for-the-dales]

For those who haven’t read the note at the end of the most recent chapter

If you are interested I have posted the edited first two chapter! No big plot changes but I think they read better now.

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 11: Blackwall

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

       The old Warden sat on a rock staring out at the ragtag camp shivering in the snow and sharpened his sword. He had been doing this for the past hour.

       The survivors of the attack milled around the camp trying to stay busy, but no one really knew what to do one minute to the next. No one knew what to do past the next few hours either.

       It was a mess.

       The temperature was falling with the sun but Blackwall barely noticed. He knew he should be down there trying to help the others, but if he was honest with himself he didn’t know if he had really processed what had happened either.

       The Herald of Andraste, the greatest hope for saving Thedas, was dead.

        When she had burst into the Chantry carrying a wounded Flissa, Blackwall had allowed himself to hope that they would all find a way out of this mess. Her armor was scorched and she had a nasty cut on her forehead, but she was alive. He had been gathering up the children to make sure they were all accounted for when he saw Cullen approach her. Blackwall couldn’t hear what they were saying and the little dwarven girl, Felicity, was tugging on his armor and crying. Blackwall turned away from the Herald a moment to comfort the child before turning back to watch what was happening at the front of the Chantry.

       He saw Lady Lavellan’s face fall and his blood ran cold.

       It only lasted a moment before she set her face again with a look of determination. She said a few more things to Cullen before she turned and started walking towards the door again. Cullen said called after her and Blackwall ran after them. She stopped just short of the door before turning to Cullen and saying, “I’m not going to ask anyone to come with me.”

       Blackwall didn’t know what the mission was, but he was ready, “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to ask my lady. What’s the plan?”

       Lady Lavellan’s eyes softened as she looked at the grizzled old warrior, “I appreciate the offer Ser Blackwall, but you don’t have to come with me on this one.”

       Bull and Sera approached then and Bull asked, “Come where? You got a plan to get out of this mess boss?”

       Lady Lavellan’s eyes scanned the three of them sadly with a set line in her mouth before nodding, “There is a way to evacuate everyone in the Chantry.”

       “Great!” barked Sera, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

       Lady Lavellan sighed and smiled sadly, “Someone needs to buy time. It’ll very likely be a one way trip.”

       The small gathering went quiet and Cullen stared at the ground with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in a harsh line. Blackwall began to open his mouth when Sera interrupted, “I said what I said. What are we waitin' for?”

       The younger elf stood as tall as she could and put her fists on her hips, but Blackwall could see them shaking slightly. Lady Lavellan could see it too and for a moment it looked like she might cry. Bull looked over Sera’s head to Blackwall and nodded, and Blackwall nodded back.

       Suddenly Blackwall hear Sahren call out behind him, “Raj’ha’haren, what’s the plan?”

       Sahren marched up to them with Rasa as his shadow. Lady Lavellan’s face went hard as stone and she took a moment before saying in a firm voice, “We have a plan to hold off the dragon, but I need the two of you to help Commander Cullen evacuate the civilians. We’ll catch up to you.”

       Sahren nodded like the good soldier he was, but his twin scrutinized their mentor’s face. Lady Lavellan turned away before Rasa could decipher anything. Blackwall understood worrying about everyone serving under you knowing everything, he also knew she was making a mistake.

       Not that Blackwall had a leg to stand on when it came to leadership.

       Sahren turned on his heel, pulling his twin with him. Lady Lavellan nodded and said, “Right, we don’t have any time to waste.” She turned to Commander Cullen, “Are you ready to move out.”

       Cullen gave a curt nod, “Yes my lady.”

       “Good, you’d best get going. It’s best if you slip out quietly I think.”

       Blackwall saw Solas out of the corner of his eyes watching the small party intently before turning and walking away. Blackwall went to get his gear when Felicity caught his eye and smiled. Blackwall smiled back and waved before donning his sword and shield. She made a funny face at the old soldier and he crossed his eyes. The child giggled as she was dragged away by an older woman trying to corral all the children.

       Blackwall decided he was comfortable with dying today. He would be following a worthy commander for once in his life. He would be saving those children.

       He would be doing something right.

       He joined the others at the entrance of the Chantry. Bull was discussing tactics with Lay Lavellan and Sera was checking her arrows. He knew it was what she did when she was nervous. He lowered his voice further and said, “You know, I think you’ll earn a beard for this.”

       Sera looked confused for a moment before barking out a laugh, “Yeah? You gonna give me one of yours?”

       “I may,” Blackwall said seriously, “but just the one.”

       Sera laugh again as Lady Lavellan approached them asking, “Ready?”

       Sera grew quiet and bobbed her head. Lady Lavellan looked at Blackwall and he nodded sharply. The Herald nodded back at the two of them and said, “Well then. Let’s get going.”

       She pulled out her staff and Bull pulled out his massive cleaver and set his shoulder against the door.

       “Okay,” The qunari said, “I’m gonna open this door, the boss is gonna blast whatever is outside back as far as she can, then Blackwall needs to take point and keep them back while the boss and Sera get through the door. After that I’ll get the door closed which Cullen will barricade behind us. Then I’ll cover the boss’s right and Blackwall you’ll cover her left. Sera, you provide support and make sure we don’t get surprised by anything. We need to get to the trebuchet that’s still standing and hurl something big and heavy at the mountain. Everyone got that?”

       Everyone nodded. Blackwall noticed that Cassandra had gotten most of the people out of the main hall and was arguing with Cullen. They both looked up and Cullen nodded while Cassandra’s face fell in horror. Cullen must have just filled her in, he was holding Cassandra’s arm.

       Lady Lavellan commanded quickly, “Bull now.”

       Bull heaved the door open and everything began to move much faster. Fire erupted from Lady Lavellan’s staff, throwing back the few red templars patrolling past the door. Blackwall charged forward and slammed his shield into a knight that had kept his footing. He heard Lady Lavellan and Sera run out behind him and he saw vines spring from the ground and hold down a footsoldier still on the ground as an arrow struck the head of another starting to get up. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them and Blackwall could faintly hear Cassandra yelling angrily on the other side of them, but they were drowned out by the screams of the footsoldier being held down as Bull’s axe came down across his torso.

       The four of them slowly worked their way through Haven and towards the trebuchet, but the soldiers never seemed to stop coming. A group of four knights jumped over a section of crumpled wall, cutting them off. He glanced to his right and saw the grim set of Bull’s face. Lady Lavellan began to cast a barrier spell to try and give them all an edge.

       Blackwall hadn’t seen the shadow warrior coming up behind the Herald.

       Everything seemed to slow as he saw the creature bring up it’s twin blades right behind her. Blackwall wasn’t close enough to do anything and Sera hadn’t noticed it. Blackwall cried out for her to look out, but then the creature froze.

       Lady Lavellan turned quickly and was greeted by an icy blade less than an inch from her face. Then the knight furthest back in the group crumpled to the ground without warning.

       Rasa stood behind him with their bloody knives drawn and mockingly bowed to their mentor before spinning away towards the next knight. Sera and Bull jumped back in to help the rogue. Solas strolled up next to Lady Lavellan and twisting his staff in a precise movement, shattering the shadow.

       Solas smiled at the other elf, “I didn’t think you’d want them coming on their own. I convinced Sahren to go ahead to rondevu point.”

       “You convinced Sahren to do something?” Lady Lavellan asked, smiling back.

       “I can be very charming.”

       Lady Lavellan smiled at him in a way that made Blackwall feel like he was prying. He turned back to the battle and helped Rasa bring down a knight. He felt heat behind him and turned to see Lady Lavellan torching the last one while Solas kept it down with some unseen force.

       Blackwall huffed behind them, “Phew, smells like Sera’s cooking.”

       Sera held her nose, “Ugh, it does.”

       Rasa glided up to Lady Lavellan’s other side and bumped her shoulder lightly. Lady Lavellan turned to them and murmured to them so quietly Blackwall could barely hear her, “You do what I say, when I say.”

       Rasa nodded curtly.

       The party continued forward to the trebuchet. When they arrived it was blessedly clear of enemies. There was already a stone loaded into the contraption.

       There were a lot of dead soldiers around its base.

       Lady Lavellan stared at the young faces. The oldest was the furthest out, likely having led the charge to defend the trebuchet. At the base was a boy who couldn’t have been older than fourteen. His unblemished sword lay near him. His face was frozen in agony.

       Blackwall laid a hand on the Herald’s shoulder, “There’s nothing you can do for them now. But we can still help those they loved.”

       Lady Lavellan nodded and strode forward to the trebuchet and Blackwall followed. The others set up a defensive line around the perimeter in case any more templars appeared. Lady Lavellan grunted in effort as she pushed against the large wheel to turn the trebuchet. She was a strong woman, but mages rarely had cause to build physical strength.

       Blackwall whispered softly next to her, “If I may be of assistance Herald?”

       Lady Lavellan looked up at him and smiled before nodding. Blackwall took position next to her and began to turn the wheel with her. A few templar stragglers approached while they worked, but they were nothing that the others couldn’t handle. When the massive machine was finally aimed Blackwall took a step back to look at the mountain it would hit. The bright and cold snow stared down at him, and for the first time since he had walked out of the Chantry this evening Blackwall felt a little fear crawl up his spine.

       Lady Lavellan stared with him for a moment before turning to address the others, “All right, I’m going fire this and then we run. If we move fast enough we should be able to reach the Chantry and get into the hidden tunnel before the avalanche reaches us. Be ready to move. Leave anything weighing you down here if you can live without it.”

       The others nodded and began to prepare themselves. Blackwall removed his shield and placed it on the body of the young boy. Blackwall knew what the odds were of them all reaching the Chantry in time, but the Herald had a way of speaking with confidence that made it sound more likely than it really was. She believed they would make, so he would believe her.

       The Herald still stood next to him and spoke to him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear, “Blackwall, I need you to do something for me.”

       “Anything my lady.” Blackwall responded, meaning it with every bone in his body.

       “I need you to stay with Rasa, make sure they make it to the Chantry. No matter what else happens. Can you do that?”

       Blackwall studied the woman in front of him, seeing uncharacteristic fear on her face. Anyone else, Blackwall included, would have felt fear first and foremost for themselves. But not her.

       Never her.

       No, she feared for the safety of her companion, the rogue Blackwall suspected she looked at as her own child. The warrior remembered another time he saw that fear in a woman’s eyes.

       When he had been the cause.

       The boundless guilt of his past crept through him and gripped his heart like a claw. He swallowed hard and nodded, “I will protect them with my life.”

       Lady Lavellan smiled softly and looked just a little bit lighter than she had a moment before and grip on his heart loosened slightly. He would do this for her.

       Blackwall watched her walk up the platform to inspect the winch before he turned to join the others. Rasa waited impatiently furthest out, their eyes scanning the tree line for any enemies that may approach. There was still an army marching towards them.

       Blackwall coughed to announce his presence, “We should stay with the others Ser.”

       Rasa scanned the treeline one more time before turning back and nodding. Blackwall waited for them to walk past him before following. They rejoined the others where Iron Bull and Solas were discussing the best possible routes back to the Chantry while Sera nervously paced back and forth. Rasa walked far more casually than the situation warranted up to Sera and rocked back on their heels. Sera glanced at the other rogue curiously.

       Rasa leaned over to Sera and said, “Ten gold says I can beat you back to the Chantry.”

       Blackwall groaned and Sera barked out a laugh, Iron Bull scoffed and said, “Those are rookie odds. I bet forty Sera wins.”

       “Oi!” Sera shouted, “What’s my share of that?”

       “Half of course.”

       Sera shrugged, “I suppose, it’s not like your fat arse could really compete anyway.”

       “Hey, my fat ass has pulled you out plenty of tight spots.”

       Blackwall couldn’t help but grin. He glanced over at Solas and his grin fell. The oldest elf in their company didn’t smile or laugh. He hadn’t chosen to forget the real stakes.

       No one heard the roar before it was too late.

       The massive black and red beast crashed into the ground with such force Blackwall was thrown back against one of the remaining walls surrounding Haven. As soon as his vision cleared he searched for the others. Iron Bull was helping up Sera and Solas stood next to them. Rasa had fallen next to them and Blackwall ran to help them up. He glanced around and realized one of their company was missing.

       The Herald.

       His head whipped over to where the trebuchet still stood.

       On the other side of the dragon.

       Lady Lavellan caught his eye. She looked a little shaken, but uninjured. Her eyes slid from him to the elf he was holding up and her eyes widened. Blackwall couldn’t hear her over the roar of the dragon and the ringing in his ears but sudden determination in her eyes and her mouthed word made her orders clear.

       Run.

       Rasa could barely stand but tried to fall forward toward the Herald and cried out, “Mae!”

       For the briefest of moments Blackwall could see Lady Lavellan’s eyes shine and crinkle before his view was obstructed by the beast. Time seemed to slow as he came to his decision. He grabbed the rogue and tossed them over his shoulder. He looked at Iron Bull whose eye was tight as he nodded. He pulled Sera along as she yelled and spat at him. Solas didn’t look at him and just stared at the dragon. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes flitted around, his fingers tightening and loosening. It was likely only seconds had passed, but it felt like hours before Solas finally turned and followed after Iron Bull with Blackwall tailing him. Rasa was still screeching and beating at him, but their likely broken leg kept them from wriggling too much.

       Blackwall heard another voice for the briefest moment on the other side of the dragon before he was out of earshot. When the group reached the top of the hill just outside the Chantry doors they heard the trebuchet fire. Blackwall spared a moment to turn and watch the boulder hit the mountain side.

       Exactly where he and the Herald had planned for it to go.

       The snow began to slide down the slope and the sight spurred him to move again. Solas had opened the doors and slammed them shut as soon as Blackwall and Iron Bull had gotten the other elves through. The rest of the journey to catch up with the rest of the Inquisition was silent. Blackwall still had to carry Rasa but the rogue had gone startling silent. Sera had screamed and yelled for a while before she too seemed to run out of energy.

       They were all alone to grapple with what they had done.

       Blackwall had to grapple with what he had done.

       He had left Andraste’s Herald to die.

       He had abandoned her.

       He looked down at Rasa in his arms and tried to remember that she had asked him to keep them safe. He had just been keeping his promise.

       That didn’t make the guilt’s vice grip on his heart loosen.

       Now he sat on a rock overlooking the camp, as useless as he had been when the dragon showed up. He should have given Rasa to Iron Bull and gone to defend her. As time passed and the panic settled he had more time to think of everything he should have done. Every other better path he could have taken.

       How many great people’s deaths would he be responsible for before his own end.

       Blackwall buried his head in his head in his head and let himself sob for the first time in a long time. He thought this time would be different. She had been everything a leader should be. Kind, brave, clever, and wise. Too many had one of those traits, and too few had all. She had put her faith in him and he had found her deserving of his. She could have accomplished great things, changed the world.

       And he had let her die.

       Suddenly there were shouts from the camp below. Blackwall looked up and saw a group run up to a few people emerging from the gap in the mountain they had made their camp against. Blackwall squinted to see and saw it was Commander Cullen and Seeker Pentaghast, and the commander seemed to be carrying something.

       Someone.

The person’s hand rested on their stomach and Blackwall's heart seized when he saw the slightest flicker of green from it.

       Blackwall fell to his news and clasped his hands.

       “Blessed Andraste, I know I have not been as faithful as I should, but if you allow your Herald to live I swear to you I will follow wherever she leads. The coldest of mountains to the most blight ridden deserts. Only death will take me from her side. I will be her counsel and her guard. You have my oath in this.”

       Blackwall paused and whispered the last part of his prayer, “Please just let her live, let her finish her work.”

Elvhen used

Mae- shortened term for mother

Hey everyone! Thanks for being patient. I was traveling for the holidays and didn't have time to finish this chapter up until yesterday. Also anyone who was excited to read the beginning of my edits (I know I was), the first two chapters have gone through edits. They aren't major plot edits, I just think they read better now. Big thank you to my editor, my brother, who works full time and is still working through this fic slowly and being very supportive. Next chapter is our last companion chapter (Cole) and then we get to Ellana! I'm really excited y'all.

Next Chapter (Cole): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/190134990889/chapter-12-cole

[valtsv]

ignoring canon because i simply do not vibe with it

[infinityuserboxes]

[simonghostrileys]

Incredibly fucking slow at it 🤧

[slagginbitch]

i fixed it

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 10: Dorian

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

          Dorian was spinning and fell onto his knees into what he sincerely hoped was water. He lifted his head up limply and briefly took in the sight of dank stone walls around him before his head flew forward again and he was puking. His head hadn’t stopped throbbing and all he could think about was how disjointed he felt.  He faintly heard someone saying his name, but couldn’t yet comprehend it. He felt a hand rub his back as he finished divesting himself of his breakfast. The hand on his back was joined by another who pulled him into a light, oddly positioned hug. He realized it was odd because they were both on their knees. He looked up at the person holding him and realized it was Lavellan.

           Of course it was. She had been standing right next to him when-

           Dorian’s head whipped back to their surroundings and realized they were still in Redcliffe Castle, but something was very wrong. He looked back up at Lavellan and though she’d been helping her, she looked like she was feeling rather off as well. She too was studying their surroundings. She whispered, “Dorian, where are we?”

           Dorian squinted as he tried to focus and remember exactly what had happened. They had been talking to Alexius in the throne room, revealed their plan, and then he-

           He had tried to use the amulet on them.

           The amulet that altered time.

           Dorian’s whole body went stiff as the realization of what happened fully dawned on him. Lavellan looked concerned and turned his face to look up at her, “Dorian, you’re pale, what’s wrong?”

           “The question my friend is where,” Dorian croaked, “It’s when.”

           Dorian stared at Lavellan’s face as she processed this. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes flitted around, slowly her face fell, and her mouth opened slightly. She looked like she was grasping for exactly the right thing to say.

           “Fuck.”

           Dorian, despite everything, laughed, “Precisely.”

           The two froze when they heard the distinctive sound of metal armor echoing through the hallway that led away from their small room. The two mages pulled themselves to their feet. Lavellan pulled her staff from her back and Dorian picked his up from where he had dropped it when he landed.  Two Venatori agents rounded the corner of the hallway and seemed jumped slightly.

           “Blood of the Elder One!” One cried.

           They charged into the room, but Dorian and Lavellan were prepared. Dorian reached into the mind of the agent charging at him and made him see his worst fears, which slowed the man long enough for Dorian to craft a fire spell powerful enough to engulf the agent. As the agent screamed Dorian turned to Lavellan just in time to see he raise her staff and see the ground rise up around the agent approaching her. The man was engulfed by the dirt and stone and sucked down into it as Lavellan lowered her staff with a sharp crack. The man Dorian had been fighting collapsed into the shallow water around them and the room went quiet.

           “Neat trick.” Dorian complimented.

           “Thank you.” Lavellan responded, “So, you’re the expert in this magic. Do you have any ideas of how to fix this?”

           Dorian nodded, “I’m ruminating on a particularly lovely idea, but the conditions will have to be just right. I suggest we start with answering the previous question of ‘when are we’ first.”

           Lavellan nodded back at Dorian, “Agreed. Shall we? No time to waste.”

           “Hah.” Dorian said dryly before leading the way out of the room.

           Stealth was essential. Dorian and Lavellan moved through the dark halls like shadows, there way lit only by the eerie glow of the red lyrium.  Dorian felt a migraine growing at the back of his skull, and he had a feeling the lyrium was the cause. It felt like his worst hangover. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lavellan’s brow furrowed and her mouth set in a thin line, so he was fairly sure he wasn’t alone in his pain. The pair carefully worked their way through the maze of stone tunnels, quickly and quietly wiping out any resistance they encountered until they descended into a deep dungeon. The air was still and the two almost turned around and abandoned it as a dead end Lavellan stopped dead in her tracks. Dorian saw her ear twitch back behind her and her face fall.

           The elven woman moved as though each part of her body had to take a moment to remember how to work properly. Slowly she turned back to face the cell at the end of the row. Dorian didn’t think she was breathing. He inched closer to her and whispered, “What is it? What do you hear in there?”

           Dorian held his staff at the ready, but Lavellan dropped hers as she edged closer to the cell. Dorian picked up the abandoned weapon and followed her. His eyes could barely make out the small ball of a person in the corner of the cell. He could hear words come from the person, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He squinted to try and see who it was. Lavellan didn’t have to.

           “Sera?” Her voice cracked.

           The head whipped up and dirty blonde hair flew around the elf’s face and Dorian could see that the Herald was right. The young woman’s big blue eyes widened and she scurried on her hands and feet further into the corner.

           “No no no. You can’t be here. You’re dead and they don’t come back.”

           Dorian’s heart sunk at the horror on the poor girls face. He remembered their journey to Haven together. She hadn’t stopped picking at him and getting on his last nerve. She was loud, blunt, and told the dirtiest jokes. He had actually rather like her, not that he could let her know that. The girl huddled in the corner in front him wasn’t any of those things and Dorian could feel his heart break a little.

           Lavellan quickly unlocked the cell and opened the door, but she didn’t step inside. Instead she knelt down a little away from the exit and held out her hand.

           “Sera,” she said softly, “I’m here. I didn’t die. Alexius used… very strange magic to send me forward in time. For me it feels like I saw you only an hour ago.”

           Sera didn’t move but she didn’t say anything either, so Lavellan continued, “I don’t know exactly what happened, and I need your help to figure it out. Dorian and I think we can fix what happened and go back to when the spell was cast. Make it so none of whatever happened here ever took place.”

           “He killed you, that what happened,” Sera’s voice was small when she finally spoke, “And then the Elder One strolled in and made everything shite.”

           The girl looked like she was going to cry, “I ran out of arrows. When you went away I ran out of arrows trying to make them pay,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “but it didn’t matter. Didn’t stop anything.”

           Dorian tried to sound gentle when he asked, “Sera this is important. When was that? How long ago did we disappear?”

           Sera looked up, as if noticing him for the first time, “You died a year ago.”

           Maker, they’d been gone a year.

           Lavellan’s face froze. Her mouth opened but her eyes just kept flitting around. Finally they closed and he could hear her mumbling prayers to her gods. Sera stared at her while she prayed. The younger elf’s face hardened and finally rose to her feet.

           “I’m gonna need a bow.”

           “I just killed an archer up those stairs.” Dorian supplied.

           Sera nodded at him before strolling past the pair. When she walked past him he felt a little nauseous as he felt the red lyrium radiating from her. He could see it glowing under the skin in her neck where blood veins should have been. Lavellan stared at the young woman, still on the floor. Dorian leaned down and gently took her elbow. She startled and whipped her head around to stare at him. Her eyes were still lost for a moment before she spoke. Her voice sounded so defeated as her mouth spat out, “I failed.”

           Dorian was suddenly struck with guilt. She hadn’t failed. He had. This had been his plan. Certainly she and the other leaders of the inquisition had figured out how to get in to the castle, but he had been the one certain that he could stop Alexius when the time came. Every awful thing that followed was a direct result of his arrogance. He was no better than his father, assuming he could do no wrong.

           Dorian shook himself out of his thoughts. It wasn’t helpful.

           He reached out too Lavellan again and helped her up, “Come now, we haven’t failed yet. We can still stop all of this from happening.”

           Lavellan nodded and whispered to herself, “There is no where you can go where Mythal will not stand with you.”

           It sounded like something she had recited to herself many times, but Dorian knew they didn’t have time to have a casual conversation about her religion. He’d have to wait until after the next time they performed theoretically impossible magic for all that. The pair followed Sera out the door and up the stairs. The younger elf took the lead and told them that she had an idea of where the Venatori had taken Cassandra. He watched her as she tested the feel of the bow string in her fingers again. He saw her flinch when she pulled it to full draw. He didn’t know the full effects of the red lyrium on a living person yet, but Dorian didn’t imagine they were pleasant.

           The trio moved through the halls quickly. Sera was almost continuously muttering to herself and kept glancing back at Lavellan, as if to assure herself that the other elf was still there. Lavellan sidled up to Sera and said nothing as she extended her hand slightly so it barely brushed Sera’s hand. Sera took the invitation and clung to Lavellan’s hand with her own. Neither woman looked at each other. Dorian checked behind them to make sure no one was following. He felt like he was intruding. He looked forward again when he heard Sera sniffle. She was still staring forward as they walked, but he saw Lavellan squeeze her hand. Sera walked slightly closer to the older elf.

           The two didn’t let go of each other until Sera opened a heavy wooden door, saying, “Right, Cassandra should be through here.”

           The group emerged into a dungeon nearly identical to the one they had found Sera in. Dorian didn’t need Lavellan’s elven hearing this time to here their companions voice. She was singing hymns. Loudly. And off key. Sera barked out a laugh and Dorian couldn’t help but giggle. Lavellan shot them both dirty looks but he couldn’t help it. They hadn’t been able to unclench a single muscle for over an hour and they were in a horrifying situation, sometime you just had to laugh when you could.

           The singing stopped and Cassandra called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

           Lavellan approached the cell first with Sera and Dorian close on her heels. Cassandra’s eyes widened as she took in the group. Sera spoke up before Lavellan could, “Come on Cassandra, we’re getting out of here and stopping the bad guys. Just like old times.”

           Sera took the keys from Lavellan and quickly unlocked the cell. Before anyone could move, Cassandra burst out of the cell and grabbed Lavellan by her throat and pushed her across the room until she had her off her the floor and slammed up against the opposite wall.

           “You! You did this!” Cassandra bellowed.

           Dorian and Sera jumped to pull the warrior off Lavellan. Even in her weakened state it took both of them to hold her back from the elf. Lavellan dropped to the ground and gasped for breath.

           “What the fuck was that?” Dorian demanded.

           “He wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for her people!”

           “Cassandra what the shite are you on about?” Sera asked.

           Finally the two were able to push Cassandra away from Lavellan and stood between her and the infuriated Seeker. Cassandra was panting and glaring daggers at Lavellan.

           “We found out after you were taken in the Hinterlands.” Cassandra said to Sera.

           “Found out what?”

           “The Elder One. He found her heathen temples.”

           Lavellan whipped her head up to stare at Cassandra and gasped out, “He what? How?”

           Cassandra let out a wry laugh, “Hah, now you care. We don’t know. But we do know only those who believe in your heathen gods can find them, which means your people must have taken him there. That’s where he found the weapons.”

           Lavellan stared at Cassandra and finally blurted out, “I’m sorry Cassandra but what the fuck are you talking about?”

           “I’m talking about the magical weapons your people gave The Elder One. Once he had them none of our armies could stand against him. He swiped his hand and the ground swallowed them whole. He sent his army of demons to wipe out anyone who survived the initial onslaught, and when he assassinated the Empress any semblance of resistance was completely wiped out. We never stood a chance. And now here you stand, amazingly alive. When we discovered where he had gotten his weapons, I didn’t believe those who said that it was you had betrayed us, but now I can see no alternative. It was you all along. You and your people’s hatred of humans drove you to destroy the world. Are you happy now? Will you rule the ashes?”

           “Cassandra,” Dorian stepped in, “Alexius sent us forward in time. To us it’s only been around an hour since we confronted him in the throne room.”

           It was Cassandra’s turn to look confused, “What?”

           Lavellan held her fingers to her temples as she stared at a spot on floor in front of Cassandra. Finally she looked up at the Seeker.

           “Cassandra,” she began, “do you really think if the elvhen had a secret warehouse of extremely powerful magical weapons that the Exalted March on the Dales would have ever happened?”

           “Well-”

           “Also,” Lavellan continued, holding up her hand, “it’s wards that keep our temples safe from shemlen. Very old and very powerful wards, but still just magical wards. If this ‘Elder One’ is as powerful as you say, it is entirely plausible that he could bypass them.”

           Cassandra went quiet. However, Lavellan seemed to realize the implication of what she had just said.

           “Mythal protect me, he might be able to bypass the wards.”

           Lavellan walked away from the others to the far wall and slid down it and whispered again, “He might be able to bypass the wards.”

           Cassandra lowered her guard slightly, “You claim there are no weapons in your temples, then why did he emerge from them with them?”

           Lavellan tilted her head to look up Cassandra and shook her head slightly, “I have no idea. I am the second highest ranking member of my order and I have never heard of any such items. Why do you assume they came from us?”

           “We had our best scouts following his army. They couldn’t get too close but they saw his army stroll into your sacred temples. At the next battle with our armies he unveiled them. He stopped no where else in between.”

           “What of the people in the temples.”

           Cassandra paused, for the first time looking sympathetic towards Lavellan, “There were no survivors, we assumed he had betrayed them. Just as he had so many others. He… he burned the temple of Mythal. He locked the priests inside.”

           The Herald of Andraste allowed the moisture that had been gathering in her eyes to finally run freely down her face and onto the stone floor of that awful dungeon. Dorian brushed past Cassandra and knelt down next to her.

           “Remember, we are going to fix this. None of this has to happen. We can stop all of it. We’ll protect your people and everyone else.”

           “He knows where they are Dorian. We don’t have weapons. We have one order that is something of a military, but nothing that could contend with him. We’re not like Orlais or Ferelden. We don’t have anyone coming to save us. We have no allies.”

           “They have you. They have the Inquisition. We’ll keep them safe.”

           Cassandra approached slowly, “You truly don’t know of any weapons that your people posses?”

           “No.”

           Cassandra hesitated before she kneeled down on the other side of Lavellan, “I apologize. You say you have a plan to stop all of this from ever happening?”

           Lavellan nodded and Dorian said, “Yes. We need to get the amulet that Alexius used to send us forward in time. I believe that I can use it to send us back.”

           Cassandra nodded and held out her hand to Lavellan. The elf stared at the hand a moment before taking it. Cassandra pulled her up and put her hand on the elf’s shoulder, “Then I will help you see it done.”

           Lavellan wiped at her face and righted herself before nodding, “Thank you Cassandra.”

           “Right,” Sera called from behind them, “we’re all good then? We going or what?”

           Cassandra nodded and took the lead, striding with more strength than Dorian believed she really had left. Like Sera, Cassandra’s veins glowed an unnatural red and it had begun seeping into the blood vessels in her eyes and made them glow slightly.

           The effect was unsettling.

           Sera trotted after Cassandra, showing her where they had killed a warrior back the way they’d come so she could arm herself. Dorian was about to follow them out when he realized Lavellan wasn’t right behind him. He turned and saw her looking into the cell Cassandra had been kept in. Her eyes were wide and sad and her mouth was tight. Her hands were shaking slightly and her ears were twitching wildly.  She looked like she might cry again. Then she closed her eyes.

           First her eyebrows lowered and then her mouth relaxed. The wrinkles slowly eased away in her temples. Her hands slowed until they stopped. Finally her ears jerked less and less until they two had stilled. She wasn’t moving. She took only slow and deliberate breaths until even her breathing was almost imperceptible. The whole thing made Dorian’s skin itch.

           It was like watching someone’s last moments before death.

           Then she opened her eyes and the Herald of Andraste turned back to him with determination in her eyes.

           “Let’s finish this.” She said coolly as she brushed past him.

           Dorian didn’t say anything as he followed her out.

           The four made their way through the rest of the dungeon and towards the surface. Dorian had been feeling off since they arrived, and at first he wrote it off as a side effect of the spell or maybe the red lyrium, but now he wasn’t sure. It felt like there was something crawling under his skin, but not necessarily in a bad way. It was a strange feeling.

           When Cassandra threw the door to the courtyard open, Dorian began to get a firmer idea of where the feeling came from.

           The sky was ripped apart. A hazy green spread in every direction and there were floating chunks of castle and mountain as high up as Dorian could see. Much closer, maybe only a few miles up and away, was the Black City. It’s spires curved high into the sky and it shone like onyx and looked just as sharp and dangerous. Next to him Lavellan squinted when she saw it.

           Lavellan murmured, “It looks different outside the fade.”

           Cassandra nodded, “It showed up after The Elder One ripped open the Breach.”

           “Why is it so close to Redcliffe?” Dorian asked.

           “It moves. It emerged in Tevinter, but now it travels with The Elder One.”

           It took a moment for that information to sink in, but then Dorian’s blood ran cold.

           Lavellan seemed to be thinking along the same lines, “We need to hurry.”

           With a renewed sense of urgency the group fought their way through the hordes of demons and Venatori that inhabited the castle. The Fade flowed more freely in this future, and Dorian could feel it so much more vividly every time he cast a spell. It felt less like translating common in his head and more like breathing. He suspected Lavellan felt the same after she lifted her staff and entire section of floor rose under a Venatori warrior and slammed him into the ceiling, crushing him. She took a moment afterwards to collect herself. Dorian could understand that. The feeling of that much magic flowing through him almost felt unnatural and-

           Then she did it again to another warrior. A rogue leapt at her and the next moment the man was burning.

           With the entry hall cleared, Dorian joined his companions walking towards the imposing door to where Alexius would be waiting. For the first time Dorian felt the implications of what was about to happen. They were going to very likely march into that throne room, kill Alexius, and reverse the spell that sent them forward in time. Oddly, it wasn’t the possibly impossible magic that unnerved him the most.

           Alexius had been a better father to Dorian than his real father ever had been. He had been kind and sympathetic. Pushed him to do his best, but never derided him when he failed. The only time Dorian had ever seen him truly upset with him was during that last argument they had before Dorian left for good. All of the ways that things could have been different if Dorian hadn’t been so young and stupid flashed through his head. If he hadn’t been so callous and arrogant, maybe none of this would have happened.

           Dorian didn’t notice he had stopped until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to its owner and saw that Lavellan’s stony expression had softened.

           “Are you ready?” She asked quietly.

           She reminded him a bit of Livia, Alexius’s wife. She had been kind too. Ruthless, clever, and ambitious; but kind. She once took care of Dorian when was young and he had pushed himself to hard and made himself sick. He had a fever so high that he had become delirious. She had sung to him while she cast a spell to cool him down. When she died Dorian had chided Alexius for being so distraught, for allowing it to distract him from his work.

           Dorian nodded.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay again. I'm working on edits of each of the chapters. It's slow work and I'm going to upload all the edited chapters at once. I'll post something on the tumblr page for this fanfic when I do that and I'll also put it in the chapter notes for the next chapter I publish after I finish them. We're getting real close to Ellana's first chapter. I'm real excited about that one.

Next Chapter (Blackwall): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/190069815504/chapter-11-blackwall

[osointricate]

This person gets it

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

me having a new idea for a relatively short fic:

[loxxxlay]

I love this, and I gotta confess that my timeline has a bit more of a s2 vibe:

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

you’re so right, that’s much more accurate

[apathbacktoyou]

my posting schedule:

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 9: Iron Bull

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

A/N: This chapter contains a reference to self-harm and mutilation. It’s about halfway through the paragraph where Iron Bull makes observations about Ellana having been a slave. You can skip to the end of that paragraph without missing anything important.

         The Iron Bull pitied the poor horse under him as he rode through the Hinterlands. They’d found a work horse big enough to haul his big ass around, but the beast obviously wasn’t used to being ridden. Iron Bull sympathized; long rides were the worst part of any job. It was boring. It did however give him an opportunity to study his new companions. He had volunteered to bring up the rear, Sera rode in front of him, and then the mage, Vivienne, rode next to the boss up front. Those two were so far the most entertaining part of this trip.  They’d spent the whole morning giving each other extremely specific gardening advice, and a child would have been able to figure out that they weren’t talking about gardening. They were so damn pleasant about it too.

           In Viv’s own words, it was delightful.

           There was one thing that did bother The Iron Bull though. It was obvious that the boss was clearly a very skilled mage with a lot of knowledge about some high concept stuff, and as far as he knew, the Dalish didn’t teach that kind of magic. Dalish had always said her clan almost exclusively focused on useful, day-to-day sort of magic. He doubted that included detailed discussions of the origin of spirit magic or the specifics of how exactly a possession works. The boss had some advanced training. He’d never come across a clan that had that kind of training.  She was definitely Dalish though. Really, really Dalish. She spoke more elvhen than anyone he’d ever met, even scholars. Then there were the vallaslin.  He’d never seen a Dalish elf with that extensive tattooing. There were a few too many oddities about the new boss for The Iron Bull to feel completely comfortable around her.  Though to be fair to her, there were very few people he really let his guard down around.

           The Iron Bull looked up when he realized both of the women at the front of their party were looking at him, studying him. It made him a little nervous. Like he’d pissed off his Tama or something. Finally they looked back at each other and Vivienne said, “Perhaps not that level of pruning, but it doesn’t negate my previous point of…”

           The Iron Bull breathed when he realized they weren’t really talking about him. He rubbed the back of his neck. There were a lot of mages in the Inquisition, and he knew his people’s policy on mages was probably going to come up at some point. Fortunately, it hadn’t yet. He’d never really encountered a lot of Sareebas on Par Vollen.  When he got to Saheron he’d fought alongside them and their Arvaraad, but usually just for the duration of a fight or interrogation. Afterwards they’d be herded back to where they were kept. They had kind of creeped him out. He’d felt bad for them, they were born with a shit lot, but some people just were. They were what they were.

           But then he’d think about someone sewing Dalish’s mouth shut.

           The Iron Bull didn’t like to think about that for long.

           He looked back up at the boss. There was a lot about her that was weird, other than her magic. Her halla for one thing. It was fucking huge. Big enough to carry him. He’d never seen one that big at any of the Clans, and Dalish had treated it weird too. All she’d said was that it was special. She’d touched its intricately carved horns then, and he’d never seen her so amazed before. The boss didn’t wear the same robes as other mages either. They were obviously made by the Dalish, but the quality was a whole lot better than any he’d ever said. Krem had talked to some of Josephine’s people and found out that she was from some special Dalish temple, and she was some kind of priest. He hadn’t ever heard of the Dalish keeping active temples before. The boss didn’t come across as a liar, which meant it was probably the truth. The Iron Bull could feel the Ben-Hassrath inside him waking up and being very, very uncomfortable that there were whole groups of Dalish that the Qunari had never even heard of.

           What bothered him the most was that he heard that the other two elves that had followed the Inquisitor to Haven were also priests, and one of them didn’t have any vallaslin. That made him very uncomfortable.

           The Iron Bull had been working on drafts of progress reports to send back home for a week. If there was a secret group of Dalish that didn’t have vallaslin, Dalish that were essentially the Ben-Hassrath of their people if rumors were to be believed, he had to consider that there were some in Par Vollen. But he didn’t have enough information about them yet. Half-true information was worse that no information. The Iron Bull didn’t want to be responsible for a mass culling of Viddathari, particularly if it turned out it hadn’t even been necessary in the first place. He didn’t include the tattoo-less Dalish in his report home.

           Sera groaned loudly, “Are we there yet? My arse hurts!”

           Vivienne scoffed and the boss said, “We should be at the forward camp in under an hour. From there we’ll walk.”

           Sera threw back her head, “Ugh! More trees and bugs and shite!”

           “After we talk to this Warden we’ll head to Redcliffe.” The boss said, trying to mollify the other elf.

           “Yeah!” Sera responded, jerking her head back up, “Where we’re gonna go talk to a bunch of crazy mages who ran away from their Circles!”

           The boss sighed and Vivienne shot Sera a dirty look, but turned to the boss and said, “I really can’t believe I’m saying this but Sera has a point-”

           “Don’t agree with me, I don’t like it.”

           “Fiona and her malcontents aren’t to be trusted. They’ll break their word to us the moment we attempt to establish some semblance of order upon them.”

           The boss sighed, “Maybe, but that’s why we’re going to talk to them. I don’t know Fiona, but I’d like to give her the chance to make her case to us. They may prove to be wonderful allies. You said yourself Lady Vivienne that one of the biggest issues with the break was the timing. Maybe we can help the rebel mages patch up some of the problems that came from such a quick and brutal separation from their traditional role.”

           The boss and Vivienne continued to argue, and The Iron Bull settled back into his saddle. This time Sera was offering the occasional comment, much to the annoyance of Viv. It wouldn’t matter though; nothing those two could say would change the boss’s mind. Wherever she had been trained in magic, The Iron Bull knew where she had been before. He wouldn’t wish slavery on his worst enemy.

           It was in the little things. She always ate her fill at every meal, and while she was a natural caretaker, she was still often first in line. Deprivation has a tendency to make even the most compassionate people selfish. She never took more than her share, but she never took less either. She kept very few personal items, but the few baubles she did carry that meant something to her she always carried. Every time she left her hut or tent, they were tucked into little pockets in her clothing. They’d been bathing in a creek once and The Iron Bull had noticed even then she hadn’t taken off the talisman she wore around her neck. She didn’t trust anything she left anywhere alone to be there when she came back. He also saw the scar then too. It was less noticeable than it likely had been before she’d gotten her tattoos, but it was still there at the top of her left thigh. It was a brand. It had been marred by more cuts overtop, likely self-inflicted after her escape, but he could still see parts of the design beneath. It had healed well, and The Iron Bull suspected magic had been used to help it blend in so well, but it was there. The advanced healing made it harder for him to place exactly how old it was, but The Iron Bull would guess that it occurred when she was a young girl. The other tells gave the same indication. It doesn’t matter how old someone gets, the shit that happens when they’re young stays with them.

           The rebel mages in Redcliffe had fought to escape their cages. The boss would never turn her back on them; no matter what lip service she gave Viv. No matter the danger helping them posed. The Iron Bull was going to have to get used to working with a lot of mages.

------------

           Fucking mages. Redcliffe had been a shit show. He’d laughed it off at the time, but all the mages under the control of an insane Tevinter magister fucking around with incredibly dangerous magic was one of the worst outcomes that could have happened. At least they weren’t all abominations. Yet.

           At least there was more muscle with the group now. Blackwall seemed to be a decent sort, and he did a good job of distracting Sera from her growing panic at the mage situation. He put up a gruff front, but he was a softie. And a liar, but everyone was about something, and so far The Iron Bull didn’t pick up any signs he was the dangerous sort of liar. He’d tell Red if he decided otherwise. Still, he’d keep his eye on him.

           Then there was the pretty Vint mage they’d met in Redcliffe. Too clever for his own damn good, The Iron Bull could already tell. At least the boss seemed just as uncomfortable around him as The Iron Bull, and he could be sure she’d be keeping a very wary eye on him. She’d been on edge since the moment she found out the Vints were there. The Iron Bull had watched her when she sat across the table from the magister. The boss was normally completely in control of her body language and expression, but he didn’t think she really breathed the entire time she sat there. Her face had stayed blank and her spine stayed straight. She did a good job masking her fear, but The Iron Bull saw it, and he was reasonably sure Alexius saw it too. That would make things difficult going forward. At least by the time they met the pretty Vint she had moved on from fear to anger. The Iron Bull half expected her to rip apart the Vint like she had the demons, but she’d kept her cool and he’d promised his help.

           They were riding back to Haven now, this time Blackwall took the lead with Viv and the boss hung back by The Iron Bull. She was quiet, and anyone else might say she looked contemplative, like a leader going over the day’s events and planning for tomorrow. But The Iron Bull could see what it really was hanging on her shoulders, stress. An old stress. He remembered when Gatt came to serve with him on Seheron. Gatt had already done a lot work to work through his past, and The Iron Bull really thought he had been ready to face the Vints without his anger getting in the way. He was proven very wrong the first time they came across a Vint camp holding slaves. Gatt had gotten his hand on the Vint ‘managing’ the slaves, and The Iron Bull didn’t think the Vint’s mother would have recognized the poor bastard after Gatt was done. Gatt fought him on it, but The Iron Bull sent him back home after that. He still didn’t know if Gatt would ever really get past what happened to him when he was young.

           He watched the boss now and realized that, while she put up a good front, she hadn’t move past it either. The Iron Bull was certain that the only thing she was thinking about with her blank face and stiff back was what she had experienced in Tevinter. He didn’t think anyone really moved on from something like that, you just learn how to live with it better.

           “Bull.”

           The boss’s voice pulled The Iron Bull from his thoughts, “Yeah boss, what’s up?”

           “Would you do me a favor?”

           She wasn’t looking at him, instead staring over the top of her Halla’s head, “Depends on the favor boss.”

           She opened her mouth but hesitated a moment before speaking, “When we get back to Haven I am going to meet with the others about how best to handle the situation in Redcliffe. It will almost certainly involve me returning to Redcliffe while it is still occupied by a Tevinter magister and his people. Agreed?”

           “Yeah, almost definitely. You want me to come with you? Watch your back?”

           “No. I want you to go to Crestwood with the Chargers to help clean up undead and reassert order in the region.”

           “Okay,” The Iron Bull hesitated, “what’s the catch?”

           “I need you take Sahren and Rasa with you. I will tell them that I want them to learn more about how the humans live and how to work with non-elvhen. Rasa already has plenty of experience on that front, but they will assume I am sending them to keep and eye on Sahren. You will need to leave quickly, before they catch wind of whatever plan sends me back to Redcliffe. They can’t know about it until it’s resolved, one way or another. Sahren will do what I tell him. Rasa will too but they’ll ask more questions.”

           “Are you sure lying to them is the best solution here?”

           The boss paused a moment, “The Qun doesn’t allow you to raise children, does it Bull?”

           “No boss. But I’ve mentored younger kids before.”

           The boss nodded, “Did you care about them?”

           The Iron Bull thought about Gatt, about how when he first met the elf The Iron Bull could toss him with one hand, “Yeah boss.”

           The boss turned to him, “Is it wrong to not want to put them at risk? To not expose them to even the chance of-”

           The boss stopped talking, but he could see the end of the sentence in her eyes. She looked forward again after that.

           “They’ll be pissed.”

           “Better than enslaved.”

           “The rest of us can keep you all safe, not to mention those two can look after themselves.”

           “I know they can, and I know you’ll do your best, but I can’t risk it.”

           The Iron Bull could hear she was resolute. He knew this was a terrible idea, but she wouldn’t change her mind.

           “Sure thing boss.”

           “Thanks Bull.”

Chapter 10 (Dorian): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/189537555854/chapter-10-dorian