I bring my black stallion to a trot, pulling on the reins as we reach the stables. We had managed to locate the horse master in the Hinterlands, hidden away in his small house, hoping to stay behind doors until the Breach is closed.
Great protection a wooden door will do when the Breach tears the world apart.
The sun is setting now—we galloped most of the way back to Haven, accompanied by Scout Harding.
"Whoa," says Cassandra, slowing her horse beside mine.
Now with eight horses in total, the stables are sure to be a little smelly—let's just hope the stench of manure won't drift to my cabin.
I dismount and pat the soft black fur of my horse. He is the finest stallion I've ever seen: groomed, healthy, the biggest in the herd and certainly the strongest. The horsemaster had insisted I ride him, being dubbed Herald and all.
I hand my horse to the stable boy with a thanks and start making my way towards the Chantry—hopefully Mother Giselle has made it from the Hinterlands.
The walk through Haven is quiet, there are hardly any people out. The usual bustling merchant stalls are empty, along with the small courtyard where the people pray and chat. The only people I can see are the scouts on patrol.
Varric notices as well, "Seems like everyone's at the Tavern." He lets out a small laugh.
Cassandra doesn't seem so convinced. Her delicate black eyebrows furrow, a scowl on her face, "I wouldn't think so."
It's not until we reach the stone stairs near the Chantry that I see why the village is empty. Everyone has crowded around the doors to the Chantry. I can hear shouting and a few people push each other. Then the crowd surges backwards, leaving a large gap for me to see what exactly is going on.
A mage and a Templar face off against each other. They stare each other down, like mongrel dogs fighting for a scrap of food.
"You killed her—your kind killed the Most Holy," barks the Templar.
The mage jabs a finger at the knight, "Lies—your kind let her die."
"Shut your mouth mage," the Templar yells. And in a flash, he reaches for his sword.
I take another step forward, but a hand reaches the Templar, shoving him and the mage away from each other, "Enough." Commander Cullen's voice rings through the village.
My eyes automatically flick from him and settle on my boots.
"Knight-Captain," says the mage.
"That is not my title. Not anymore," he says. His voice is deep, soothing almost.
My eyes drift back towards his face. His brow is set in a furious expression, lips pointed downward, but his scar prominent as ever.
"We are not Templars any longer. Nor are we a different kind from someone else. We are all part of the Inquisition.
The crowd parts again as a man pushes his way through. His red and white robes all too familiar, "And what does that mean, exactly?" asks Chancellor Roderick.
More like Chancellor Pain-in-Andraste's-Ass.
He walks towards Cullen, hands clasped behind his back.
"Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?" asks Cullen. Who knew the Commander could be snarky as well as attractive.
I step closer again, trying to keep my eyes from drifting to Cullen's brown ones.
"I am curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its "Herald" will restore order as you've promised us all."
"Of course you are," Cullen mutters. He looks to the crowd, "Back to your duties, all of you."
The crowd begins to dissolve and I make my way towards Cullen, "Is everything alright?"
Cullen turns to me, and nods.
Roderick scoffs, "Here is the so-called Herald of Andraste."
"Here I am."
"In due time, Andraste will be our guide, not some dazed wanderer on a mountainside."
"I was found in a temple, not a mountainside," I snap.
Chancellor Roderick steps back as if hit in the chest, "Well I never. The Herald of Andraste foul mouthing me, a Chancellor? What will the people think?"
Cullen crosses his arms and turns to me, "Please talk some sense into the people at Val Royeaux."
"I'll… I'll try."
Cullen nods, "That's all we can ask, Herald."
The Chancellor grunts and stalks off towards the Rift he must have crawled out from.
"Herald," comes Varric's voice.
"Lydia… it's just Lydia, please."
"As you wish," he says with a smile. "We were wondering if you'd like to head to the tavern for a few drinks."
I scratch my head, "I don't really know guys, I mean, we've had a pretty big day. And we've got to travel to Val Royeaux tomorrow."
"A few drinks to help you fall asleep then?"
A smile creeps along my face, "Why not."
"Maker's breathe Varric, if you get her drunk…" begins Cassandra. "I better come along to make sure that doesn't happen."
Varric grins, "By all means Seeker. And you, Curly?"
Cullen tilts his head, "One drink surely won't hurt.
+++
I lean back in my wooden chair, a tankard of ale in my hand, watching Cullen and Varric talking at the other side of the room. A light rain patters against the wooden roof of the tavern, but I can hardly hear it over the shouts from the other patrons.
"Herald, may I ask you a question?"
Cassandra's voice pulls me back into focus and I look at her, "Of course. But, why you'd want to ask a girl you found on a mountainside with a glowing green hand is beyond me."
Cassandra gives a quick laugh, "We found you in a temple—not a mountainside." I smile back, but her expression turns to stone, like usual. "Do you believe you are chosen?"
The tankard stops inches from my mouth. I place but on the table and look at the woman. I swallow before answering, "I believe so, yes."
And it is the truth—I was raised by a religious family, I was to devote my life to the Chantry, to Andraste, to the Maker. It may not have been a life I wanted, but it was the only thing keeping my grounded. I prayed to the Maker every night before bed, to ask for something more in my life. It seems as though both the Maker and Andraste heard me.
Cassandra nods, "And you believe in the Maker."
"I think the Maker had something to do with this. I mean… whatever is happening out there had to be someone's doing. Sure, the Divine's murderer had made that Breach. But what about this? The mark?" I hold my hand up. I turn away with a sigh. "I just don't know anymore."
"I believe the Maker sent you here— and I believe Andraste was guiding you," says Cassandra. "You are, after all, the only one who can close the Rifts. You are the one people call the Herald of Andraste. You are the rallying cry that will unite the people."
My eyes lock with her own dark eyes, "You really believe I can do this?"
Cassandra nods, "I was quick to judge you when you came through the Rift, but the longer I stay with you, the more I see how wrong I was to call you prisoner. I think we all believe in you."
Cheers erupt and Varric holds his empty tankard in the air.
"Ugh," mutters Cassandra. "Forget about demons, he'll die from drinking too much."
I smile and my eyes settle on Cullen, who claps Varric on the back. His sandy blonde hair is messy, but somehow it still manages to look so soft and curly.
"Go," Cassandra urges. "Go talk to him."
I whirl around to look at the woman, "Him?" A small laugh escapes my lips. "I… I… why would I want to speak to him?"
Cassandra takes a sip of her ale.
"I mean, it's not like I don't want to speak to him, but… I just… he's busy."
"Busy?"
"Yes. Busy drinking."
Cassandra glances at the Commander then back to me, "He's finished his drink."
I clear my throat, "I, ah, I'm going to head back to my cabin. Today was quite the adventure." Pushing my chair out, I stand, Cassandra doing the same.
"I'll escort you back," she says.
"Going already?" comes a voice. Varric and Cullen walk towards us.
"Go, or we'll never get out of here," whispers Cassandra. She looks at the dwarf, "Yes Varric, some of us actually need sleep."
Varric raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Cullen and I were going to have another drink, if you'd like to join us."
Cassandra looks at me for help.
I smile, "Sorry. We're tired. Beauty sleep and all."
"Ah, suit yourselves," growls Varric with a wave of his hand.
"I'll escort you back to your cabin, if you'd like," says Cullen.
I cough, "Oh no, Cassandra's already offered."
"No, you can take her," says Cassandra.
My eyes grow wide as I stare at her.
"Come on," she says, pushing me along with her.
"It's no fun drinking by myself," says Varric, reluctantly following us out of the tavern.
"I'm sure that's never stopped you before," I say with a smirk. My foot catches something and I feel myself falling yet again. My arms drop in front of me, but I'm caught before I manage to break something.
Cullen's hand is on my arm, the only thing stopping me from falling, "Maker's breath, are you alright?"
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and ease away from him, "Yes. Fine. Great actually. I just didn't see that rock."
Cullen's hand is somehow still gently on my arm. He sees me staring at it and he pulls away, clearing his throat, "Well… I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."
My eyes flick to Varric who's trying not to laugh. He grins at me, "Stumbles here is supposed to save the world."
I feel the heat creeping up my neck like angry fingers, "Maybe I'll trip into the Breach to seal it."
"If only it was that simple," says Cassandra. "But then we'd have to pull you back out of the sealed Breach."
I smile, "Solas walks the Fade in his dreams, he could just pull me out."
We say our goodnights, the two men heading back to their own chambers.
Cassandra gives me one last look.
"Maker have mercy," I mumble. I give Cassandra a look in return, "That's why I didn't want to speak to him."
"You were afraid you would trip?"
"Something like that," I say with a sigh. "I'm hopeless when it comes to attractive men."
She gives me a tight-lipped smile, "You got his attention though, isn't that something?" She turns and heads back towards her own chambers.
I let go of the breath I've been holding, the mist mingling in the cold air, "I got his attention for all the wrong reasons."