Notes

*title here *
.~::DaI: Shiri Lavellan::~
X
.~::Adaar::~.

(This is an AU)

Snow drifted from the sky, the air thick with ash, rust and smoke as cold wind bit into every inch of warm flesh it could.
Laying motionless in the blood tinged snow, a single figure watched puffs of steam blow from their mouth, taken instantly by the frozen snow littered wind.

Pain seethed her body in an unshakable grip, shaking through every piece of her body. Able to do little but look to the green highlighted sky, swirling grey storm clouds gathering around a vortex in the sky. Rocks floated like a broken pillar in the sky, leading from somewhere close, flashes of fire spitting down out of sight from the green vortex in the grey clouds.

Blinking frost from her lashes the woman croaked as rasping breath, expelling air as the feeling of overused muscles pulled and tightened.
The pain was worst in her arm, her shoulder and upper arm churning with pair so venomous it threatened to reintroduce the last meal she had eaten.

Strips of wet, crimson flesh and scorched skin flapped in the fierce wind and snow. Someone had tied a cord of fabric tightly above where the arm receded into nothing. The white bone of her arm and the fatty cartilage of her elbow joint, hanging loosely in the wind, peeked out from behind rivers of blood. 
The sleeve of her coat had been burned off, and her once-smooth skin was red and angry, boils rising where the heat had seared it, blackened where it was worse. Much of her right side seemed that way

Rolling onto her side the woman focused on her breathing, painfully cold and mingling with the nauseatingly sweet, putrid smell of blood and burning flesh.






Blinking, she rose, first rolling onto her stomach, then pushing herself up to her hands and knees. 
No, that wasn't right. Hand and knees. The blood and pain. Her arm. 
Pain erupted from her throat as she opened it,. The sight of the crater left at the bottom of her right elbow was enough to make her stomach turn inside out.--down her leg, up her flank, the side of her head. 



Adaar awoke sharply, her head spun and her stomach churned. A bitter dusty wind brushed past, carrying the rank stench of burning flesh, fire, soot, snow and blood.
The tall woman sat up, finally opening her pale blue eyes.
She sat alone in a ruin, sittings inside a large crater. Many bodies still littered the area, charred and impaled, this was the sight of great destruction.

“Hello?” Adaar’s voice echoed across the ruins, calling warily for another soul to answer. The large Qunari stood, surveying herself for any abnormally.

She remained in her armour, and her freckled skin was unharmed, aside from the many scars that covered most of her body.
Adaar rubbed her left shoulder, everything was accounted for, except her arm.
Reaching out she called the many parts of the arm. It connected to her wooden shoulder, held together by mana and lyriem.

Adaar began to walk, looking down at the metallic hand she controlled, it held the anchor, it let her close rifts and tears in the vale, boosted her magic and allowed the Qunari mage to move freely through the fade. The mark pulsed, vein like tendrils coiled around the palm, radiating the energy that had began the events that had changed the world.

The ruins seemed familiar to the Qunari as she looked up again. The charred walls, the ash ridden ground, the corpses, all seemed to recall a memory.

‘This reminds me of the temple...’ she thought to herself, remembering how the temple of sacred ashes had looked after the conclave. Curiosity caused Adaar to look up, and her blood ran cold.

Far above, was the Breach, a massive tear in reality that scarred the sky, it’s pulsating energy reaching down to the central hall of the ruined temple. Rubble circled the tear, the dark storm clouds ringed the Breach as it spat demons from the sickly green blemish in the sky.

“No! That can’t be here!” Adaar panicked, beginning her dash towards the main chamber. Preying that this wasn’t real.

—

Shiri Lavellan trudged through the snow, pulling her small frame through the hip deep blanket that covered the mountain.
She shivered, her armour didn’t keep her well insulated in this weather.

“Come! We have to hurry” Cassandra barked, Shiri forced herself to move, following the dark haired human as they sought the temples entrance.

The group consisted of four in total, Cassandra leading the group, the warrior powering through the snow. Varric, the Dwarven archer, struggled through chest deep, holding his cross bow above his head.
And Solas brought the rear, the bald Elven mage followed silently, seeming unbothered by the cold.

Shiri sighed, attempting to warm herself with her magic. She could tell the group didn’t care for her, she was a prisoner after all, and the only suspects to a mountain full of murders. She had been dragged up the mountain in hopes that the thing on her palm, could fix things, fix the sky.

After what seemed hours, the company reached the temple, the warmth from the fire and Breach melting the snow inside.

“This doesn’t look good” Varric stated, brushing the snow from his coat and shirt.

“What part? The burned sacred temple? Or the sky?” Solas quipped, his tone calm but witty.

“All of it” Varric answered grimly, his face set in furrowed concentration as he stroked his crossbow gently.
Cassandra joined Lilianna, talking in hushed tones, Shiri looked down at her mark, then walked to peer at the central hall.

The rift was huge, bigger than the Aravels the dalish traveled in, She gulped, her hand stinging from the mark as it flared, it longed to connect with the rift, to be complete again.

“If we can close this rift, the Breach should seal” Solas explained, standing beside his fellow elf.

“Then let us not waste time” Cassandra agreed, she didn’t approve of any of this, but it had to be done, for the safety of Thedas.

—

“Now is the hour of our victory”
A disembodied voice echoed around the hall. Adaar remembered the voice, one from her darkest nightmares, the owner of the voice, she had slain years ago.

“Bring forth the sacrifice”
Shiri shivered again, not from the cold but from the unnerving chill that hung in the air.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, placing a hand on the handle of her blade.

“At a guess: the person who created the Breach” Solas responded, following as Shiri and Cassandra lead through the ruined corridors of the temple. The black stones became large shards, spiked towards the broken sky. Red crystals jutted out from the walls and stone, the red ore humming softly.

“You know this stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker” Varric asked cautiously, hearing the taunting hum sing melodiously in his mind

“I see it Varric” the Seeker response, sharing his caution.

“But what’s it doing here?” Varric asked exasperatedly, tracing the line of a thick scar on his nose with a thumb.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupting it” Solas guessed, eyeing the red ore curiously.
Varric scoffed, shuddering.

“It’s evil.” He stated firmly
“Whatever you do, don’t touch it”

“Keep the sacrifice still”
The voice was calm, echoed with a gravelly undertone. It caught the attention of the gathering parties that headed towards the temples inner sanctum.

“Someone help me!”
A second disembodied voice called out, this one, female with a thick accent. Cassandra and Lilianna looked up sharply, both women looking around in mixed hope and confusion.

“That is Divine Justina’s voice!” Cassandra called out, Solas, Varric and Shiri looked to each other, the trio not knowing the holy priestesses voice.

-

“Someone help me!”
The divine called out again, another desperate plea for aid. Adaar looked over the ledge she now stood on, peering down at the rift below. Five figures gathered below. Adaar saw Seeker Cassandra, her best friend and dearest companion, in the old armour she wore when she had just began the Inquisition. Accompanying her, Sister Lilianna followed with her unique bow drawn, the spymaster moving silently through the shadows.
Varric Tethras followed Bianca still held fondly in his arms. The storyteller followed behind a blonde figure Adaar didn’t recognise. But one other followed, one the Qunari knew all to well.

“Solas?!” Adaar spat in surprise, shocked at seeing the bald Elven mage. She’d spent the last three years hunting him, and there he stood, weak, and vulnerable.

“What’s going on here?”
Adaar was surprised, she remembered this day. And she remember she had spoken that line before, but that was not her voice.

The memory echo began, a shadowy figure formed, standing tall above another. A third figure appeared, a small elf. She had shoulder length blonde hair, and emerald eyes. Her cheeks adorned ornate tattoos, baron branches that Adaar remembered the followers of Mythral adorned.
The echo continued as Adaar ran her fingers through her short black hair, and along the stub of her broken horn.

The tal-valshoth had been through this before, she remembered being the one in the echo, remembered distantly, everything that was happening now.

“I did this already, seven years ago...” she whispered to herself, her stomach dropping, nausea washed over the Qunari as she crumbled to her knees
“This is a dream!” She reassured herself. Sounds of battle rose to the Inquisitors tipped ears, catching her attention, she pulled herself to her feet again. Summoning her staff, the mage overlooked the battle.

—

Shiri crashed violently into a pile of rubble, grunting loudly. The demon standing above her let out a mocking laughter, it’s size towered above her, its body of bones and scales contorted inhumanity.
She cursed, lifting her bloodied hand to fire a blast of magic at the terror demon, the blast hit it and it stumbled back, its long talons raking the ground. It roared, its mouth unhinged and full of glass like teeth that lined its maw in rows.

Solas cast his magic, a shield of magic rising as the demon rushes at the small dalish. Shiri brought her hand up as the demon through itself onto the shield, attacking it mercilessly.
A bolt shot through the things neck, spraying green blood across the shield, the terror turned to Varric as he emptied his clip into the things face, its corpse turning to dust and returning to the rift.

“You okay!” Varric shouted over the sounds of battle, helping Shiri to her feet,

“Yea- Yeah, I’ll be fine” she responded between ragged breaths, looking at the gaping claw wound on her leg, her left arm limp at her side. Varric smiled, offering what little comfort he could

“Don’t worry, I’m use to fighting these things, aim high” he advised, he quickly shot a glance at the pride demon that the forces focused on, it towered high above any other demon, and was by far the largest demon breed around. It stood ten or twenty times the height of a human, and its glittering purple scales made blades glance off.
“As for that” Varric sighed, reloading Bianca,
“Aim for the eyes and run”

Shiri grasped her staff, holding the familiar wood in her limp arm, blood oozing down her arm, from a deep gash somewhere on her chelidon.
She looked up at the rift, their only hope, she raised her right hand as Solas had instructed on previous rifts, she reached out, the marks tendril reached for the rift, the sting of green light tying itself to the rift.

The pride demon roared, stampeding towards Shiri, it’s rage detected at the elf.
From nowhere, a bright stream of green lightning and energy hit the demon in the chest, glancing off and turning to attack again, leaving its armoured scales burned to nothing, green blood oozing from the wounds. The demon swatted at the energy, it’s massive claws swiping at the lightning current, flesh sizzling when the blast hit the demon.
The light hit the demon on the chest again, squelching flesh burning away as the energy changed its direction again, to skid off the scales on its body.

The energy changed corse and barrelled towards the dalish, crashing down beside the elf in a cloud of dust and ash.

Shiri was shocked when a woman stood from where the energy had landed. The figure stood at around eight feet tall, short ink black hair blowing from the force of her landing. The stoney skinned woman’s eyes glowed a bright green, the colour matching the Breach above. Her left arm had been removed, the only part of the limb left was a wooden shoulder, engraved with an old rune.
She wore a simple binder around her chest, ebony grey skin revealed.
The figures legs were covered by a skirt of leather and cloth, flapping in the dust.
(Picture; <275>)

“Begone” the woman commanded , her voice level and firm, raising her staff towards the demon, she glared into it six magenta eyes that watched with unreadable emotions.
“BEGONE!” She ordered, swinging her staff to point at the rift, her voice raised to a shout with authoritative command.

The pride demon refused to bow to the lesser mortal, it stepped forward, letting out a thunderous roar. And then subsequently exploding. Silence fell, as did the demon, the whole of its chest now missing, it turned to fade-dust and returned to the rift. Blood soaked metal clattering to the floor seconds after. Silence filled the battlefield as demon and mortal alike stared in stock and fear, few of the demons retreated, return to whatever lay on the other side of the rift. Area now clear, Solas and Cassandra ran towards where Adaar and Shiri stood, the smaller elf staring at the Qunari in amazement, curiosity, horror and fear.

“Use your mark! Close the rift!” Solas shouted, grabbing Shiri’s wrist and pulling her towards the rift.
Adaar pushed Solas away with ease, standing between the two elves, Solas looked up at the Qunari, who stared back at him with brimming hatred.
“She needs to close the rift!” Solas warned, now shouting over the volume of the rift, thunder and battle as lesser demons slipped from the rift and clashed with Haven’s forces.

“They can’t do it alone!” Adaar responded, gesturing at the Breach
“Did you ever think this is a bit much!?” She hissed, her eyes glowing brightly due to the proximity to the rift.

“She must!” Solas argued, slamming his staff on the ground,
“If she cannot! We are doomed!”

Shiri rubbed her head as the stranger retorted quickly, towering over the Elven mages.
Her sensitive ears rang from the echoing volume of the ruins, and her right hand, that bore the mark throbbed with burning pain.

“It won’t even close fully!” The strangers voice.

“It’s our only hope! And it will work!” Solas.

“You truly think it’ll be that easy? It never is!”

Shiri ignored the argument, instead running to the Breach. She reached out, her hand stretched towards the torn sky, she could see through the tear from this angle, able to see the fade, hidden nestled in the tear.
She mentally reached out, her talented mind imaging the rift closing as the mark grasped onto the magic, leeching its energy.

Pain flooded up through the paper cut sized mark, gripping the dalish in racks of shuddering pain.
Her knees buckled, falling onto something that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Shiri’s eyes dizzily traveled up to see the stranger’s heavily scarred face, looking down with concern, panic in the bright emerald eyes, Shiri notes that the eyes shimmered with thousands of colours, each indescribable hue changing like the rift above.
The rift pulsed, zapping the last of Shiri’s energy away, leaving her falling into a pit of black haze.

—

“The Qunari ‘guessed’ the exact turnout? I don’t trust it!” Solas spat out, crossing his arms and pacing before the gathered council, consisting of Lilianna, Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine and Chancellor Rodrick.

He hadn’t trusted the strangers appearance, too conveniently timed for an accident. The woman knew what the Breach was, and that the prisoner elf wouldn’t close the Breach properly. And her eyes that stared at him with hatred of a long term bitter hatred, the hostility towards him on their first meeting.

“She happened upon a bad time, she saved miss Lavellan‘s life” Lilianna began, watching the Elven apostate pace the room.
“She took down the pride demon, that alone tell us we should stay our hands”

“Nonsense, the ox-woman clearly was associated with the explosion!” Rodrick countered, causing Lilianna to glare at him.

“Please Chancellor, refrain from such slurs.” Lilianna began, shaking her head from under her violet hood.
“The Kossith race is one to be respected, and we do not even know if that woman is part of the Qun or not!” She continued
“So we may not be right by calling her Qunari”

“We do not know who it is, we shall call her ‘Qunari’ for now” Cassandra interrupted, waving off Lilianna’s further protests.

The council soon continued its bickering,
Solas tuned out the argument, his mind busy with other thoughts.
He excused himself and left the meeting, as he had only tagged along, hoping to get information, with no success. He padded down the halls of Haven’s chantry, descending the steps to the cellar, used as a makeshift prison.

The cell was dimly lit, shadows dancing in the dirty red firelight, sconces lit sparingly. Solas had no problem with the dark, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. A Templar stood guard in the room, his ability’s disabling any magic entering the cell of a room.
In the center of the prison, the Qunari sat silently, her short black hair shadowing her face.

Solas approached, stopping before the bars, he cleared his throat, getting her attention. She looked up, sky blue eyes meeting Solas’s gaze. He’d seen her eyes before, at the Breach they had been green, glowing brightly, now her eyes were blue and not dull.

“What do you want?” She snarled, sitting straighter, and staring at the elf defiantly.

“What is your name?” He asked, voice commanding, the Qunari stood, walking to the bars before the shackle pulled its chain, restraining her by her wrist. Her other arm but a scarred stub, no longer in its wooden shell.

“Adaar” she answered simply, placing her hand on her hip.

“Adaar?” He repeated, Solas knew Qunlat, the native language of Qunari, and in qunlat, Adaar meant ‘weapon’. He pondered how she had come across this name, names were given in the Qun, titles that represented the individual.

“I’m Valshoth, before you ask” Adaar sighed, sensing his thoughts. Solas hummed, that made more sense, Tal-Valshoth were those who didn’t follow the Qun, outcasts and criminals most often.

“Who do you work for?” Solas asked, bringing his mind back to the reason he was here.

“Myself” She responded, her tone sounding bored,

“Then why are you here?” He asked, crossing his arms

“ I don’t know, I was riding home yesterday, here today” Adaar answered in exasperation, rolling her eyes,
“I just woke up in the temple, I don’t remember what happened” she sighed rubbing her head and pacing in the small cell.

“Let me guess, you know nothing of the conclave?” Solas quipped, snorting at the clear lie

“Ari... Ebala itwa-adim, imesaar-hissra, Corypheus ash kata, ari shokraka ash kost, anaan, an-avastrasa” Adaar spoke softly in Qunlat, coded for only Solas to understand. He froze, eyes widening he took a step back, meeting the eyes of the Qunari,

‘I... watched as they all fell, as the tainted god, Corypheus brought death, I rebelled to bring peace, victory, and revenge’ had been what she said, Solas’s breath hitched, he panicked, not understanding how she would know of Corypheus, he had died at the conclave with the others, or had meant to.

“You should have known better, but you have a big ego don’t you?” Adaar scoffed, clicking her tongue as she faced the wall,
“Solas... it means pride, doesn’t it? How very fitting...”

Solas stepped forth, about to speak when the woman stopped him, raising her hand in a silent command for silence, chains jingling softly. Adaar switched her language as she sat down, her back turned. This time she spoke Elven, Adaar wasn’t as fluent, but years of practice helped her speak clearly.

“Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din, Fen'Harel” this was simple, a threat, Solas looked down, she had played his worst fear well, somehow... she knew him well too.

‘Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong.
You will die alone, Dread wolf.’

—

Shiri cleared her throat softly, catching the attention of the two conversing figure.

”Ima ar Amwell?” Shiri asked, voice barely above a whisper, her ivory eyes meeting Solas’s

“No, you aren’t, I was just leaving.” Solas answered, folding his arms behind his back, turning to face Shiri by the door.
“Don’t trust it.” Solas whispered his hazel eyes meeting the eyes of the dalish, before taking his leave, his silent footsteps retreated down the long corridor, and up the spiralling stairs. Shiri turned to face Adaar, alone in the dark prison cell.

“H-hello...” Shiri stuttered softly, approaching the bars to the cell, looking at the large grey figure sitting on the cold floor.
Many scares littered the left side of her face, one slashing across her nose, another on her eye, cheek and lips. Dark freckles splashed across her grey skin, pure black hair messily thrown behind large horns, one curled and came to a fine point, the other chipped and broken off at the base.

“Hello there” the creature responded, a gentle and caring tone in her voice, Shiri gulped as she stood, the woman standing at around eight feet tall, she walked closer to the bars, a kind smile on her dark lips.
Shiri cowered slightly, her fight or flight instinct pulling at her mind. She suppressed the fear and looked up at the woman.

“You know Elvhen?” She asked sheepishly, attempting to break the ice, she was not good at making friends, she’d only known her clan, her chosen family. But she found herself far from home, in a land unknown with little hope of return.

“It was taught to me by an old friend” Adaar responded gently, placing her hand on her hips.
“I’m by no way perfect, but I understand well enough” she shrugged, her scarred shoulder unmoving.

“Do- do you think- Would you mind me asking a few questions?” The dalish stammered, she cursed herself for being so cowardly, scolding herself and mustering up her courage.

“For a sweet thing like yourself?” Shiri inhaled sharply, taken aback by the unexpected compliment,
“Ask away little elf” Adaar chuckled, sitting cross legged on the stone floor. Shiri sat, perching on her heels as she rested her hands on her knees.

“What are you?” Shiri asked finally, meeting the strangers eyes,

“What am I?” Adaar’s surprised voice answered.

“I thought you were a demon at first, but you can’t be r-right? You helped us, the others haven’t killed you either, so I must be wrong” Shiri explained, the woman chuckled, the pleasant sound soon becoming a full laugh,

“It’s normally ‘who are you?’ ‘Why are you here?’ ‘What do you want?’,
I haven’t had ‘What are you?’ Before!” she exhaled , calming her laughter.

“Sorry” Shiri muttered, looking down slightly, clenching her fists weakly, flinching at the twinge of pain the mark released at the contact.

“Don’t be” Shiri looked up, meeting those kind sky blue eyes again.
“I’m Adaar, a Tal-Vashoth of the Qunari race” she explained, the Dalish looking on in awe.
“Qunari are native to the lands of Par Vollen and Seheron, and almost all follow the ‘perfect’ religious ideology of the Qun. Humans call us ‘ox-men’ for obvious reasons” She gestured to her horns.

“What god does the Qun believe in?” She continued, sending her next question off, her fearful posture relaxing slightly.

“They don’t have a god, it’s the idea that they believe in, they believe in rank, perfection and unity, they believe the Qunari should be one, one society with one motive and one belief” Adaar explained, gesturing randomly as she spoke, the chain attached to her wrist jingling quietly. Shiri nodded, mentally taking notes as her educated mind was trained to.

“So... where are you from?” Shiri asked, Adaar leant back, propping herself with her arm. Shiri found her eyes traveling to the other arm, a stub just off the shoulder, gruesome wounds healed into messy scars, some paler scars crawling up her arm like veins or tendrils. Other scars were visible on the woman’s body, marks from claws, arrows, blades and magic blemished her leathery hide. With her left side being the worst, coated with damaged skin.

“Me? I was born in the Free-Marches, moved to Ferelden few years back” Shiri was surprised, she had also been born in the Free-Marches, her clan wandering in the country’s vast forests and deserts. “Qunari don’t normally travel this far south, I guess I’m a rare exception”

“Are you a mage? Or do all Qunari have magic?”

“I’m a mage. Magic is seen as weakness so mages aren’t common in the Qunari”

The two talked for a long time, small insignificant banter about Qunari and Adaar, they talked long into the night, separating shortly after midnight.

Shiri was intrigued by the Valshoth, she thought about the woman as she returned to the small hut that had been gifted to her as a house.

“Your words are law here, Haven believes you are their saviour, like it or not, you’re the new boss around here teeny”

Adaar had told her this as she was leaving, and some truth rang in it., when she had awoken that day, the residents of Haven had called her ‘Herald of Andraste’ and had bowed and scurried about around her. As she crawled into her bed, pulling the fresh sheets over her, Shiri decided to test that theory in the morning, after she slept of corse.

—

“Humans are so small!” Adaar complained, her boots crunching in the snow as she sat down beside Shiri. The Qunari looked much better now, her hair was wet and hung in midnight streaks, tucked neatly behind her tipped ears. She fiddled with a white shirt, that was a closer fit to a vest on the bigger woman, its buttons undone at the front. Shiri looked up and chuckled

“I think everyone’s small compared to you!” Shiri chuckled, her laugher soft and strained.

“Deevrann’s the biggest man in haven, which isn’t that big but y’know-“ Adaar interrupted herself , letting go of the shirt and placing her hands on her knees,
“And this is his shirt, more like vest honestly”

Shiri smiled, her eyes turning back over the village that stood below, the small town was nestled into the mountains, thin rows of thatch roofs led down many streets where people bustled along. Below Haven, tents could be seen, belonging to soldiers, refugees and pilgrims all gathered on the doorstep of a once silent homestead.

“Did you know Haven was ruled by a cult of dragon worshipers once?” Adaar’s voice caused Shiri to look up, the Qunari looked pensive, her bright blue eyes looking over the building as well.

“What?”

“The cult believed Andraste had returned in the form of a high dragon, so they worshipped her as their blessed” She continued, looking to the breach, the scar still bright in the aqua hued sky.
“The Hero of Ferelden discovered Haven after it was lost in time, and found the sacred ashes to heal Arl Eamon”

“I know of the Hero, she was of the people” Shiri breathed softly, watching the cloud of her warm breath spill from her lips
“She lives on as Keeper of the Sabrae clan” Shiri recalled meeting the great hero once, their clans meeting briefly.

“True? Is she really as scary as the stories say?” Adaar asked, attention snapping back with child like fascination.

“Depends on the story, she’s quiet, and intimidating, but not cruel” Shiri recalled,
“But that surely isn’t why your here is it?” She asked, voice dropping again as the young elf returned to her thoughts

“Right” Adaar paused for a time, an awkward silence drifting upon the pair.
“You’ll know once you choose” she said at last, Adaar lifted her prosthetic arm to rest her hand on the dalish’s back, consoling best she could.

“But how will I?” Shiri murmured, tears welling in her emerald eyes. Her knuckles went white as she clutched her pants, her bare feet hanging over the ledge Shiri and Adaar sat upon, toes numb in the cold.

“No path is going to be easy, but you have people around you that will help you, people that you can trust and relay on” Adaar opened her good hand and held it between them, palm facing up, as a warm flame snapped to life in her grasp. Shiri shuffled closer, raising her cold hands to the candle sized flame.
“Cassandra, Varric, Lilianna, Cullen, Josephine, their all there for you, and you’ll gain more friends too, friends and allies”

“What about you?” Shiri asked, closing her eyes and letting her senses reach out,
“Or Solas?”

“I’ll be here whenever you need... but I need to go home, and I don’t know how or when.” Adaar’s voice filled with uncertainty and sorrow as she spoke, face longing for something just of if reach.
“And Solas? He’s and self centred bastard, and he lacks taste, but he’ll be there for you whenever you call upon him”

“You don’t like him do you?” Shiri looked up quietly, large green eyes staring in curios contemplation.
Adaar searched for a believable reason, beyond the truth of ‘he’s the god that your people hate, and he’s only helping you because the mark, and taking it from you will risk destroying it, killing you regardlessly of it breaking’

“We have history”

Shiri nodded at this, seemingly pleased with this answer, she looked down at the mark, only Solas had managed to heal her enough that the small green paper cut sized marking didn’t kill her.

“If you ask for my advice, go with the mages” Shiri’s ears pricked up in a snap at these words,
“Cullen and Cassandra may believe that Templar’s will help more, but they block magic” the Qunari continued, her metallic hand hovering over Shiri’s marked hand, the slight humming of blue lyrim from inside the steel prosthetic. The mark of Shiri’s hand stopped aching, her hand stopped shaking and felt normal for the first time since the conclave.
“But you don’t need to block it, you need to channel the mark, use it on itself, the resistance, and the broken circles will help.”
Shiri pulled her hand away slowly, pulling it to her chest eyes scanning the Qunari as she sat up properly.

“What do you get out of it?” She asked firmly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Earlier that day, Shiri had been summoned to the war council, to discuss their next options; Mages, or Templars.
Only herself, the commander, Spymaster, Ambassador and Seeker had been there, and it was top secret until a choice was made by the Herald, namely herself.

“A way home I hope” Adaar answered calmly, glancing at the
cautious elf,
“But mainly, I want to see this stop, hopefully to rewrite destiny and fate.” Adaar stood up, stretching and rolling her shoulders.

“Rewrite?” Shiri asked, half tempted to grab the woman, to demand answers, but she didn’t.

“I want to stop the great war before it starts, I’m strong enough now, and I will win sooner this time” Adaar looked determinedly at the horizon, before speaking again, stopping Shiri from asking another question.
“There is a hidden cabin in the woods, I’ve made myself home there, I’ll be there when needed” and she was gone, a flash of white lightning zigzagging across the rooftops the only trace of where she had vanished too.

Shiri sat dazed for a time, watching the energy vanish into the distant tree line below the town. She thought upon the spontaneous comments Adaar had said, her mind desperately trying to sold one path forward, into the chaos of the unknown.

-
Whatever the next corse, the Inquisition needed influence, and this was best gained in the Hinterlands. It’s hilly wilds filled with rebel mages and renegade templars, the refugees caught in the middle of the war. The crossroads was where the bulk of refugees herded, the cramped camp was filled with tents, old buildings from before the blight stood ruined and broken, the old roofs sheltering many families beneath its rickety foundation. The paths were overgrown with weeds and flora, and people scurried around, wearing rags and old garments, commoners, farmers, elves, dwarves and nobility all living in fearful harmony in the ageing ruin.

Adaar lead the small company through the crowded encampment, refugees of all types fearfully scurrying away at the sight of the giant. Shiri shyed away from he heavy gases that landed upon her as she hid in the Qunari’s shadow.

“Relax Lucky, I don’t think they’re looking at you” Varric offered, jogging to catch up with the two leaders, Shiri was about to speak when she bumped into Adaar, the woman having had stopped.
The contact brought a bright blush to the elf’s face, realising what part of her friend she had collided with.

“Mother Giselle is just up a head” Adaar said quietly, clearing her throat softly.

“R-right” Shiri stammered, looking to an old hut that was half rebuilt with a tent, many priests and Inquisition scouts milling around the main hospice.

“There are mages here that can heal your wound” the voice caught Shiri’s ears, the speaker having a thick Orlesian accent.
“Lie still” the priestess offered, her dark hands visible from beneath her white and red robes.

“Don’t-... let them touch me mother” a Ferelden soldier hissed, his voice pained, he lay in a simple cot, blood covering most of his torso and side.
“Their magic is-“ the soldier was interrupted by the revered mother, who nodded calmly when a mage approached, their old robes amuck with blood and dirt.

“Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil then your blade” she countered, standing and slowing the mage to take her place beside the wounded man.

“But-“

“Hush dear boy, and allow them to ease your suffering” Giselle cooed, watching the mage start healing the soldier form a short distance.

“Mother Giselle?” Shiri asked, holding her new staff close in her hands as she approached the hospice, the priestess turned at her name, raising her dark eyebrows in interest as the dalish stood before her.

“I am, and you must be who they are calling the Herald of Andraste” Giselle answered politely, Boeing to the elf who bowed back immediately.

“I am, not through any choice of mine though”

“We seldom have any choice over our fate, or others” the wise priestess cooed, her soft and gentle tone relaxing something deep inside Shiri.
“I don’t mean to presume the Makers intentions” the mother preempted,
“But I did not invite you here to debate”

“Then why did you call us here?” Shiri asked, her long ears pricking at the sound of a child wailing nearby.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement” Giselle began, gesturing for Shiri to follow as she began to walk the dirt path out of the crowded medical centre.
“And I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you, some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances at becoming the new Devine!” The pair left the area, walking instead to a quiet area that overlooked the camp below.
“But some of them are simply terrified, so many good people senselessly taken from us.”

“But don’t you stand with the rest of the Chantry?” Shiri asked, her keen eye sight making out Adaar and the others, separated from the rest of the refugees. The priestess looked out over the refugee camp, her dark eyes set tiredly on the mess of people.

“With no Devine, each member is left to their own consciousnesses. And mine is telling me this” Giselle folded her arms over her ornate robes, the white cloth mantle led with red and embroidered with a golden sun upon her chest.
“Go to them, give the remaining clerics reason to believe you are not the demon hey make you out to be”
“They have only heard frightful tales of you, give them something else to believe”
Shiri thought for a time, watching the camp below, so many people forced to leave their homes, to live in poverty and death.

“You want me to appeal to them?” Shiri asked, turning to the elder

“If I thought you incapable, I wouldn’t have suggested it”

“Will they even listen?” The elf asked, lifting her marked hand to her ear, fiddling with the tip nervously. She was an elf, the Elven populous of Thedas weren’t well respected, and although as common as humans, they were seen as lesser, lower beings.

“Think about it this way then” Mother Giselle offered, raising her own hand and pinching her fingers together.
“You needn’t convince them all, you just need some to doubt” two of her fingers slacked, peeling away from the others
“Their power is in their unified voices. Take that from them and you have the time you need” Giselle clenched her fist as she lowered it back behind her, regaining her regal posture.

“Thank you Mother Giselle, it’s good of you to do this” Shiri thanked, smiling at the woman beside her, who returned the smile fondly

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate, or if you’ve been sent to help us, but I hope.” The mother paused, contemplating her next words.
“Hope is what we need, They people will listen to your rallying call like they listen to no other”
The pair began walking back to the main square, where traders and merchants bartered their goods.
“You could build the Inquisition into a force that could deliver us, or destroy us”
Shiri shuddered at the thought, noticing her friends approach. Cassandra, Varric, And Solas joined Shiri as Mother Giselle bid her farewell.

“I will go to Haven, and offer my services there, it isn’t much, but I shall do whatever I can”
—
Adaar split off from the main group as Shiri went to meet with mother Giselle, heading through the war torn crossroads on foot. She found the mages encampment, burrowed in a large cave, ice shards covering the path, making entry difficult.

“I am an apostate as well!” She called at the top of her lungs, holding the silver staff she bore above her head. The apostates that lurked witching the shrubbery held their attack, watching as the mage walked through the ice tundra maze.
“I come from the Free Marches, and come news for your grand enchanter Fiona!”

“She ain’t here!” A voice called from beside the Qunari, she smirked, then turned to the speaker as a scrawny mage stepped forth.

“Then who runs this collective?” She asked innocently, the mage shaking his head

“None of your concern”

“I have information about the and the rifts in the area, and where the demons will next be headed!” This got the rebel’s moving, they emerged from hiding, worried chatter overlapping. They led the Qunari to their base, the large cavern, where the mages gathered around, taking the staff from the new mage.

“I hear you have news about the demons?”



—
The sun was setting over the western horizon sending golden rays across the Hinterlands. Adaar mounted the small hill, the Inquisition campsite coming into sight, scouts, soldiers, and several refugee families milled around calmly. The Qunari limped the small distance to the camp, many eyes turned to look in horror and fear at the giant mage that hobbled through.
Adaar knew the stares well, and pressed on, her boots leaving bloody footprints in her wake. A medic ran over, carrying an assortment of bandages and healing supplies.

“No need, I’m fine” she dismissed, slumping down behind her tent.

“But mistress! You’re badly injured” the medic countered, noting the blood soaked mage sitting before them. Adaar’s face was set in quiet contemplation, as she gripped her side, a broken sword lodged into her hip. The Qunari also bore burns from an assortment of magic, fire, lightning and frost.

“I’m alright, go brew me some tea if you really want to be useful” she huffed, tossing a small leather pouch to the medic, who frowned, placed their kit before the Qunari and walked off grumbling.

Shiri noted the medics grumbles as she passed the campfire, having had just arrived from aiding the refugees at the crossroads.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, standing above the elf. The medic looked up, standing with a fresh pot of tea and several small cups,

“Mistress Adaar won’t listen to me, she is badly injured and yet dismissed me” the medic complained, bowing to the herald.

“Is she okay? Where is she?” Shiri asked frantically, looking around for the hard to miss mage.

“She seems to have been caught in the crossfire of the Templars and the Mages, and she is behind her tent” the medic explained, Shiri took two cups and the medic poured them silently, the herald thanked them, and went to find her friend. With two cups in her hands, Shiri rounded behind the tent herself, Cassandra and Adaar shared, and froze in surprise and fear.

The mage was covered in blood, her armour was burnt and battered, her face was set in firm concentration as she picked metallic shards from her ribs, a broken spear driven through her shoulder, each end snapped brutally off.

“Mythral’s mercy! Are you okay?! What happened? How long have you been like this!? Why did you dismiss-“

“Calm down, I’m okay, really!” Adaar laughed, plucking another sword shard from her exposed side, and flicking it into the small pile that sat before her. Shiri sat beside the Qunari, offering the mug of tea to her friend.

“You don’t look fine” she muttered grimly, trying to decide if she was terrified or amazed by the giants strength.
“What even happened to you?” She asked, tilting her head and watching Adaar downed the mug swiftly, the cup looking smaller in her large clawed hand.

“The crossroads are a dangerous place right now, there is a war and they don’t care who gets hurt” Adaar explained, gripping the broken spearshaft in her hand.
“But that shouldn’t be a problem for anyone now” she continued, ripping the stick from her shoulder violently.
Shiri crawled over and placed her hands on either side of the wound, pulsing healing magic through the missing flesh.

“You talked them down?” The herald asked, her body leaning awkwardly over Adaar’s.

“No, negotiating failed remember? The conclave was our chance at ending this war peacefully.” the mage answered, her metallic left hand rejoining into place. The Qunari places both hands gently on Shiri’s waist, and moved so she could be more comfortable.
The two women looked into each others eyes for a long time, Shiri noted the pain hidden deep within those bright sapphire eyes. Adaar held the pain of a veteran in her eyes, years of fighting and death, pain and suffering, but her smile was one of a kind, caring, maternal figure.
In Shiri’s eyes, Adaar saw a caring woman, a mage who had only freshly been thrown into the darker parts of the world. A carefree bliss and joy in the sparkling emerald eyes.

“What happened then?” Shiri dares to ask, takin her hands of the healed shoulder.

“I killed them” Shiri was shocked to say the least, she’d always thought Mages were dangerous, but Qunari mages seemed to be a whole new level.

“By yourself?”

“I fight high dragons!” Adaar boasted, flexing her arm to show her rather large mussels, at least on her flesh arm.
“Templars and Mages are easy!”
Shiri giggled, reaching for the bandages as Adaar keeled over in pain at her wounded side,

“If you fight dragons? How’d you get these wounds?” Shiri countered, using her magic to speed the healing process as she wrapped the shoulder.

“Number my dear, numbers” Shiri blushed, she’d only known Adaar for a few weeks now, like the rest of the Inquisition, but she had found herself quite fond of her new friends, and Adaar in particular.