The raven.
That icy morning, in a village she'd been told was called Haven, Elentari watched the high flight of the beast crossing the sky above her. That animal was a symbol of power, vision, and connection to the divine. Its flight was an omen, heralding imminent change, be it glory or a trial hard to overcome.
The raven represented Dirthamen, the reflection of Falon'din, the twin brothers who walked between worlds, able to travel through both the physical and the spiritual.
The mere idea that she herself seemed somehow connected to both realms made her shiver...
The Dalish elf had woken the day before only to discover that she was a prisoner of the shemlen, who believed her responsible for a massive Breach in the sky. The proof lay in the pulsing mark on her left palm, its origin unknown to them.
All she knew was that she had been sent to spy on a human Conclave, tasked with gathering information for her Clan.
Elentari knew the shemlen's world had been teetering. Apparently, the foundations of their beliefs were being shaken by an open conflict between mages and templars, and their highest religious figure, the Divine, had attempted to initiate peace talks, a "truce" of sorts between both sides.
And everything had gone wrong: the woman was dead from an explosion, and she (Elentari) was now marked with something not her own, something that could interact with the very sky… and that, they said, might even have caused the blast.
That, apparently, made her responsible for everything: the explosion, the Breach, the chaos.
She didn't understand any of it. She was overwhelmed.
All she knew was that she could do something with that green power. So, she had helped her captors and managed to seal a great rift. Now, she was no longer a prisoner, but a "necessary" ally.
Her mind was a blank before waking, an absence of answers. And that enraged her. Not knowing. Not remembering. Not having had a choice.
She looked at her hand, glowing faintly green. Rage surged. She closed her fist. Then she looked ahead. Forest. Forests were something familiar to Elentari.
She walked among the trees just outside the village gates, cloaked beneath a thick pelt the blonde shemlen among her captors had given her, while the snow buried her reinforced leather boots. She didn't want to be recognized. Word had already spread quickly that the sole survivor of the Conclave explosion was Dalish.
The vallaslin on her face made it obvious, and frankly, she felt like a stranger in these frozen lands.
They had told her she was "free," but that wasn't true. She couldn't go back to her people… because even if she did, she wasn't the same anymore. And though her heart longed to run beneath the protection of the woods, the trees, the whispering leaves, the scent of wet earth after rain, all of that was already gone. Now, it was just a memory, a yearning fading into the shadows of a responsibility she had never asked for.
And that saddened her.
- There you are, kid.
Elentari didn't flinch. Her ears had caught the footsteps in the snow a while ago. She turned slowly, face calm. The dwarf with the massive crossbow she had seen the day before leaned against a tree trunk a few meters away. He wasn't looking at her with judgment, or pity. Just curiosity. Varric, he had said his name was.
- Thought you were about to scare us all and vanish into the woods - he joked. Elentari didn't respond right away. Her gaze was still skybound, scattered thoughts drifting.
- What if I did? - she replied, voice calm but hollow. The gods knew she'd considered that scenario many times since waking up.
Varric shrugged.
- Cassandra would get grumpy. Leliana would track you down. And Solas would probably make some comment about the predictability of wandering elves... you know, Dalish like you.
Elentari grimaced.
- I'm surprised the mage didn't come himself. I've heard I've been the subject of his experiments these past days.
Varric chuckled.
- Well, I'll be honest with you, kid. He doesn't seem all that eager to talk to you.
She shouldn't care. And yet, it bothered her.
She had already sensed some disdain from the mage. She didn't understand his reasons, but it was there… and she suspected it had to do with her being Dalish. That flat-eared bastard had the nerve to look down on her, when they were the cowards, the ones who had chosen to live under shemlen rule.
- Don't worry. I didn't come to drag you back - the dwarf continued, with the calm of someone who had dealt with too many stubborn people in his life. - Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to freeze out here.
Elentari looked down at her boots, sunken in the snow. She wasn't cold. Not more than usual. It was something else making her feel frozen.
- No. - The mage showed him the pelt. - The… commander? gave me this cloak.
- Oh, Curly - Varric teased, chuckling to himself. - Either way, you don't owe me any explanations. If I were in your shoes, I'd want some fresh air too after all that.
Elentari let out a dry, humorless laugh.
- Got much experience waking up in cells, accused of crimes you don't remember?
Varric smiled.
- You'd be surprised, kid - he teased, then added. - I've got experience with folks who do.
She eyed him warily.
- You're not a soldier. Nor part of the Chantry.
- Thanks for noticing. Thought I'd managed to fool you.
- Who are you? Besides 'Varric Tethras,' I mean.
- Storyteller. Writer. And in my spare time, counselor to people who never asked for my advice. - That last bit nearly made Elentari smile, but she buried it deep. She wasn't ready to seem friendly toward people who had subjected her to Mythal knew what.
- That last one sounds annoying.
- Oh, it is - Varric winked.
Elentari couldn't help but feel like this man saw too much. Like he was reading between the lines, sensing chapters not yet written. Perhaps it was the gift of writers, to see the shades within a person's soul… to understand intentions, and know the thoughts others carried.
- Don't worry - he continued. - I'm not going to ask questions you don't want to answer. But there's something you should know.
She didn't give him the satisfaction of asking what.
He told her anyway:
- The village is calling you the Herald of Andraste.
Her stomach dropped like a stone.
No.
- They say they saw you fall from the Fade - Varric said, hands gesturing like he was telling a grand tale. - That Andraste herself sent you to save us from the Breach.
The elf closed her eyes.
A calling.
An omen.
She'd heard it a thousand times in her clan. And yet, the simple fact that it was the shemlen calling her chosen made her skin crawl.
- What do you think of that? - Varric asked.
Elentari exhaled slowly.
- I think fate has a twisted sense of humor.
Varric chuckled.
- No argument there.
She ran a hand over her face, thinking of the lines of her vallaslin.
- That won't stop them from trying to make me into something I'm not, will it?
- No - the dwarf admitted. - But it means you get to choose who you'll be to them.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
- And what if I don't want to be anything to them?
- What if you don't get to choose, kid?
Elentari cursed him a little for saying that. Because she knew it was true. In her life… choices never really felt like hers...
She drew a deep breath.
She didn't want to face more questions. She didn't want the shemlen to project their hopes, their fears, or their faith onto her. She didn't want to be a symbol. But fate had already chosen her.
The elf cast one last glance at the sky. The raven was gone.
- Let's go - she murmured, starting to walk. Varric gave her a look of approval.
- Good choice.
Elentari paused a moment. Lowered her gaze. The snow still crunched beneath her boots.
- I didn't make one.
Varric smiled.
- We're always making choices, kid. Even when we think we aren't.