Dragon Age: Salvation and Redemption (emmelinejames and Tinder)

[Tinder]

The increasingly familiar ruckus of soldiers sparing beyond the wall greeted the Varric and Chuckles as they approached Haven. The Seeker had gone on ahead with the Herald to bring news of their adventures in Val Royeaux to Nightingale, Ruffles and Curly. "That's one meeting I'm gladly not a part of," said Varric.

Chuckles kept his eyes focused on the path before them, "You give them too little credit, Master Tethras."

"I have all the faith in the world in Nightingale and Ruffles," Varric replied, "It's the Seeker who worries me." They walked the final stretch in silence. Within the walls, they passed soldiers in makeshift armor and pilgrims seeking refuge. The groups mingled together and chattered in hushed tones while their eyes continually flickered up the sky. "Looks like more showed up," Varric noted as they passed deeper into the town.

"I imagine they are looking for answers," Solas said.

Varric chuckled, "Probably came for our Herald of Andraste. Words been getting around."

"Not all of it good."

Varric shrugged, "That's how it goes when you've got a story as crazy as his. Everyone's looking to poke holes in it and prove you're crazy." The sole survivor of the Conclave had created quite the stir. A Dalish who stepped out of the Fade itself backed by Andraste, if the rumors could be believed. "Could be just crazy enough to be true."

Snow blanketed the ground as the still air froze their breath. Varric tugged the edges of his jacket into place. "Maker's breath, I'll never understand why people would want to live here." Down the way, the tavern stood with smoke creeping up from the chimney. A chorus of voices carried on the wind, some pub song being sung. "You think Madame de Fer and that elf actually showed up?"

A crashing sound came from the tavern down the way, followed by a series of cackles. "I would say there is a fair chance of that," Solas replied dryly. He continued down the path toward the tiny hunts by the side of the Chantry.

"Things are starting to get interesting," Varric smirked. He turned himself toward his own tent situated just below the Chantry. He slipped inside and secured the tent flap. Couldn't be too careful with Nightingale's flock hanging around. On his table sat a stack of letter delivered during his absence. He settled onto the barrel he'd turned into a chair and began flipping through them.

The first ten were trash from the merchant's guild. Mostly the usual talk about various trade issues and inquiries about his cousin Elmand's health. It had been awhile since he'd attended a meeting. Varric dumped them all into a bucket on the side where he kept his kindling.

Beneath the boring shit he found his weekly letter from Aveline. Or rather his weekly report. She recounted Kirkwall's progress and replayed bits of local news she thought to be relevant. Seemed reconstruction had begun in Lowtown. The market and closest home were first on the list, though the alienage had also begun to receive some help. Varric smiled as he turned the page over. Sure enough, Aveline included a brief bit about Daisy. She'd taken over as a temporary leader for the elves remaining in Kirkwall. Seems her hard work would be showing some fruit soon. Aveline concluded with a brief note about herself which remained the same. Her needs were met and she was doing her best to bring order to the city without the templars or viscount. Varric set the letter. He would write her reply later.

After that came a letter the home where he had placed Bartrand. Something about finances and his brother saying some odd things after the Breach had opened. A short note from Rivani and Sunshine followed it. Despite some apprehension on Hawke's side, her sister had gone with Isabella to keep her away from the mage rebellion. Judging by the letter, Sunshine didn't mind though she asked Varric to tell her how Hawke was doing. He smiled as he set aside the paper.

Varric glanced down at the last letter waiting for him. The envelope sat unmarked with only a crudely drawn bird on the wax distinctly visible on the outside of it. He knew that mark. He ripped it open and read the letter, glancing over the words several times. "By the Ancestors," he murmured as he set down his letter. He leaned back in the chair, sipping a watered down cup of whatever sorry alcohol they'd found this far from civilization. He looked it over once more before rubbing his eyes. Hawke had a terrible sense of timing. He sighed and stood up. Whether he liked it or not, he had a job to do.

He walked out of the tent toward the Chantry, stopping near the top of the hill by Nightingale's tent. The Herald had already appeared from within Chantry, talking to some young man in unmarked armor. Must have been a new recruit. Varric hung back until the Herald started off on his way. Catching the elf's eye, he came forward to meet him, "Hey, got a minute?"

 

[emmelinejames]

It had not escaped Ailill's notice how quickly he had come to regard Haven as his home. At first, he had resented it; the village, the people, the circumstances that had brought him here. More than anything, he had hated the cold. However, with time, less time than he had ever anticipated, he had grown accustomed to all of these things, learned to accept them and eventually to like them. Except the cold, that was very much still an issue. The last few years spent in the Free Marches had him accustomed to a warmer climate. He still wasn't sure how Southerners achieved anything in these biting temperatures or why anyone would actively chose to spend any length of time in a place that seemed permanently blanketed in varying levels of snow, sacred temple or no sacred temple.

Ailill Lavellan felt a wave of relief overtake him, something that had become a familiar occurrence each time they returned from one of their increasingly insane adventures. He and Cassandra had come ahead to gather his advisors for a debriefing and even those were becoming familiar. The interior of the war room was as customary to him as his own hut. Once they had all gathered, the questions began flying in from all sides, none of which he answered until they had gone quiet again. Only then did he begin to speak, answering the questions as they came and listened as Josephine, Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana deliberated amongst themselves. There was the mage/Templar issue again. He avoided picking a side with a diplomatic skill that Josephine would have been proud of, though Cullen had frowned at him when he'd done so, and quickly moved the issue along.

Val Royeaux had been another shocking first experience for him. He had been to human cities before and frequented Wycome as a trader for his clan, but Val Royeaux had been something else. As had the reception they'd received once they arrived. Nothing had been normal since he'd fallen out of the hole in the sky and been proclaimed some sort of prophet for a god he'd never given much thought to. Which was weird to begin with, but his life had only continued to get weirder.

Ailill's head was spinning as he left the war room, the first to leave as he always was, the only time he was eager to get back out into the cold. Before he could draw his first breath of fresh air, he was approached by a man in unmarked armour, who he indulged firstly because he thought the other man was rather nice to look at, but who turned out to have a decent proposal that particularly caught his interest. As much as he would have liked to continue looking at the man, he saw Varric approach and excused himself from the conversation with an assurance to investigate the man's proposal as soon as he could. Though he wasn't much of a warrior himself, he knew that any recruits or soldiers they could get would be welcome.

Varric had been the first person at Haven he'd grown in any way close to but there was something incredibly disarming about the dwarf that had drawn him in. He trusted Varric; he had been Ailill's guide to the human world and told him tales of heroes and recent history, tales he enjoyed the way a child might enjoy a bedtime story. There were few opportunities for relaxation or entertainment when the fate of the world rested on a weird light in your hand, but lucky for him, the dwarf liked to talk and he liked to listen.

Varric's request had Ailill tipping his head in curiosity. He wasn't sure Varric had ever asked him for anything. "Of course" he said with a smile. "What do you need?"

 

[Tinder]

Varric did a quick scan of the yard, "Maybe we could discuss somewhere more private." The last thing he needed was the Seeker marching out and overhearing him. He like his head where it was. He motioned for Ailill to follow him. After they had gone what he considered a safe distance, Varric began, "A friend of mine contacted me recently with an offer for you." He paused as they passed by a group of soldiers. Nightingale had people running all over Haven. Varric had managed to identify some of them, but new faces joined the ranks every day. Keeping his secrets safe here had become more challenging than avoiding the merchant's guild had been in Kirkwall. Having passed the men, he continued, "Apparently word's been getting around about us. She wants to offer her services to the Inquisition."

They arrived outside his tent. Varric stood by the fire to warm himself. "She's currently out on the Storm Coast attending to some personal business. She'd come to Haven herself, but…she wants to meet you first." Varric sighed; each word sounded like another log being added to his pyre. "That's about all I can tell you for. It's a complicated issue, unfortunately."

 

[emmelinejames]

Ailill watched Varric's wariness, following the dwarf's gaze across their surroundings, a grin forming on his face. "You never ask for anything" he remarked, following Varric until he deemed it safe to continue. He raised his eyebrows at Varric's opening claim about his friend's offer. Varric had a lot of notable friends so the line was more attention grabbing than it would be coming from any of his other companions He nodded along as Varric spoke. "I could always use another ally."

The fire that always burned by Varric's tent was a welcome relief from the prevailing cold of Haven. He watched the flames as Varric continued to speak, his mind racing considering the offer being made. He trusted his companion, trusted his judgment, but could he trust someone unknown and unnamed? After a moment, he nodded. "Okay, I'll meet her." What did he have to lose? He would have a small team with him should the meeting go south, and if not, it seemed like the Inquisition would gain from it. "I can meet her on the Storm Coast if that is what she would prefer, provided she is still there in the time it takes us to get that far north. It's not the first time that location has been mentioned to me today." He glanced upwards for a moment. It wasn't too late in the day to leave now, but after the journey from Val Royeaux and the meeting he'd just walked out of, he was rather eager for his bed, or any bed at this stage. "We can leave in the morning. This seems like quite a... delicate matter, I'll let you decide who we bring and who we tell."

 

[Tinder]

Varric waved away Ailill's offer. "Don't worry about it. Tell whoever you'd like. It's not like it'll stay a secret for very long." He turned back toward his tent. He had letters to write, gear to pack, and a will to sign. "I'll see you in the morning then. Off on another adventure."

He stepped into his tent and returned to his desk where the letter remained. He examined the familiar script before he reached up to rub his forehead. A sense of impending doom settled over him, almost as bad as the glowing hole in the sky. He sighed and sat down to begin his work.

******​

In the early light of the following day, Ailill, Cassandra, and Varric began the long journey to the Storm Coast. It took them several days traveling along a section of what had been the Imperial highway. They passed by refuges but didn't run into too much trouble. The Herald's glowing hand tended to spook the highwaymen. Little happened apart from the occasional conversation usually followed by extended periods of silence. Varric tried to suggest a game or two as they walked, but Cassandra shut down each attempt.

"I spy--" he began.

"No," Cassandra groaned.

Varric looked up at the human with a contained grin, "Come now, Seeker. It's a long walk. Why not have some fun?"

"There is no need to be so childish, Varric," she replied as she shot him a glare.

"Alright." He held his hands up in surrender. "You probably would be any good at this game anyhow."

They arrived at the Inquisition camp midmorning. Pigeon grey clouds covered the sky and twisted high in the air with the cold wind that blew off the sea. A steady rain accompanied it to create a truly miserable experience for the group. Varric grunted as he trudged along behind his companions. "Fantastic. More bad weather. How do these people live here?"

Cassandra glanced back with an amused smirk. "Probably by wearing proper shirts."

Varric scoffed, "I could never deprive the world of my gift. Children would weep."

"Ugh," Cassandra rolled her eyes.

As they approached, Scout Harding came forward to greet them, "Your Worship! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast." She attempted a smile as she looked up at Ailill. "I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts here have been delayed."