Chapter Text
Being proclaimed the Herald of Andraste had come as more than just a small shock. It had been a gods-damned shock of near epic proportions, considering the very same people, who had wished him dead and would have likely murdered him had they the chance were now groveling at his feet and falling over themselves to please him.
This does not sit well with him at all, thankfully, not everyone in Haven treats him as some long dead Shemlen woman's celestial messenger, but this does not stop them from addressing him as Herald. At least he'd heard it often enough to stop grimacing or scowling whenever they did, Leliana had chided him about that. He had finally been asked to at least pretend he didn't hate being there and his new title with every fiber of his being, and that if he did, they would try to find a way to minimize the adulation that was making him so uncomfortable.
All of Haven had been keeping busy getting the Inquisition organized for the past few weeks, while he'd spent several days moping about and keeping to himself, until he'd eventually gone to talk to people around camp. After all, if he's going to have to be around them for an indeterminate amount of time, he might as well get to know and figure out who he'll be fighting alongside of.
Now, it seems they finally have that plan they'd been going on about having, and he'd been called to the Chantry…which he'd been avoiding for as much and as long as possible.
Walking alongside her now, Meldarion glances down at his hand, odd how he had grown used to it glowing like that, he'd had to wrap it up with a blanket for several nights before it stopped bothering him enough to prevent him from going to sleep, and there had, thankfully, been no further bursts of pain.
"Does it trouble you?" The female warrior asks, and it takes him a moment to realize she'd noticed him looking down at his hand, and that she isn't in fact asking his opinion on something she'd just been talking about and he hadn't been listening to at all.
He sighs, "Honestly? I wish I didn't have it, but what bothers me more is not knowing where it came from, and why, of all people, I'm the one stuck with it."
"What's important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by." She goes on, unperturbed by his response, but not unkindly.
"I hope this means you have a plan – an actual plan." The Elf remarks as they approach the door to where he'd experienced his little…outburst, but has since been termed the War-room.
"We do." Cassandra confirms, actually allowing herself to crack a slight smile, as she pushes the door open and ushers Meldarion in ahead of her to stand before Leliana and…two other people he'd seen around Haven, but hadn't spoken or been introduced to…yet.
"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces." Cassandra indicates the only other man in the room.
"Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through." The man nods to Meldarion.
The Elf observes him as nonchalantly as he can, which is something he is surprisingly quite good at, mostly because Shemlen generally don't hold a lot of interest for him. The accent is familiar at least – Fereldan. And the way he carries himself seems fitting to his post…for now. Attractive enough to most, probably, objectively speaking. His gaze moves on to the remaining stranger in the room just as Cassandra introduces her,
"This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."
The Herald had never thought much about fashion, out in the wilderness, clothes had to be practical and serve a function usually more directly related to long-term survival. Still, he supposes there isn't anything terribly wrong with her clothes, he personally wishes they'd provided him with something else to wear though…perhaps, something a little less figure hugging, had they taken his measurements when he was unconscious? He'd procured some clothes better suited to staying alive than the silken body-glove he's currently in, from Seggrit, which he intends to change into as soon as he knows what the plan is and where to go. Having allowed his mind to unwittingly wander, he is genuinely surprised by the words the tan-skinned woman speaks next.
"Andaran Atish'an."
"You speak elven?" His eyes actually widen, and he can't quite keep the astonishment from his voice.
"You've just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid." At which, the surprise drains away quite quickly. The diplomat – Josephine – responds in an accent identifying the last of their merry band of misfits as an Antivan.
'So, we have a Nevarran, an Orlesian, a Fereldan, and now an Antivan being led by an Elf…It sounds like the beginning of one of those really bad "walked into a tavern" jokes. By the Creators, what would they pull out of their asses next? A Tevinter and a Qnari perhaps? Or a Chasind, we haven't collected one of those yet, and we do indeed seem to want to collect them all!"
Meldarion's cultured internal dialogue is interrupted by the re-introduction of Leliana.
"And of course you know Sister Leliana."
"My position here involves a degree of-" The Orlesian begins, only for Cassandra to cut in and get straight to the point, which is highly appreciated for once.
"She is our spymaster."
He honestly wishes he could say he was taken aback by the revelation, but in truth, he really isn't, not with the way she'd carried herself when they first met. Although, Leliana is evidently less than pleased by this.
"Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra."
More than a little impatient and desperate to find out where to go from here - hopefully away from Haven for a while before he goes completely stir-crazy - Meldarion clears his throat, "Cassandra tells me you have a plan. You do have one, don't you?"
Cassandra gives him a look, but doesn't remark on it, declaring instead, "I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good."
"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help." Leliana adds, only for the commander to frown and shake his head.
"And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well."
"We need power, Commander." Cassandra cuts in firmly, "Enough magic poured into that mark–"
Only to be promptly interrupted by Cullen, "Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so–"
"Pure speculation." Leliana butts in this time, as the Elf looks on, trying to process the new information.
He supposes they needed to get the power from somewhere, he can certainly see the sense in that, but approaching the factions that had a hand in creating this mess in the first place does not sit well with him at all. If a third alternative presented itself, he'd gladly take it, but based on the debate he's hearing, that is hardly going to be the case…
"I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of." Cullen declares a little more heatedly, making it quite clear where he stands in the mage vs. templar argument.
Meldarion discreetly inches as far back as he can to create distance between himself and the proclaimed Templar. Being a mage, and an apostate no less, he too is aware of what Templars are capable of, and the less Templars are around, the better in his opinion based on his admittedly limited experience in brief encounters with them.
"Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically." Josephine interjects.
The Elf rolls his eyes and sighs, "Honestly, I wish I could say I was amazed by that, but I'm really not. They still think I'm guilty." Which is infuriating as well as it is maddening, considering, a small part of him sees the sense in their thought-process. If he'd been a stranger looking in from the outside, he wouldn't trust himself either. Just a renegade Dalish apostate with a glowing hand that randomly appeared around the same time the Conclave blew up, tearing a giant hole in the sky and a bunch of smaller holes with demons spewing out of them…Alright, he might have sealed some of those and stopped the big one from getting bigger, but there is too much uncertainty, too many questions, not enough answers…too many holes in the story as there apparently were all over the countryside!
"That is not the entirety of it any longer." The Antivan responds in a tone that promises a headache in his near future.
"Can't you simply ignore them?" Meldarion knows he's being whiny, but a lot had happened and been forced upon him in a relatively short space of time, and he'd never been particularly flexible. The chief craftsman of their clan had once remarked that if he were to liken the First to a type of wood, he'd never be used to make a bow as he'd snap the moment anyone attempted to string him and probably take an eye out in the process.
"If only that were possible." Leliana sighs.
"Some are calling you – a Dalish Elf – the 'Herald of Andraste.' That frightens the Chantry." Josephine goes on to explain patiently, "The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."
"Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt." Cassandra's lips twist in distaste at the mere mention of the name.
"It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question." Josephine goes on.
"Just how am I the 'Herald of Andraste'?" Meldarion inhales deeply to keep his temper under control, "I've certainly never said or indicated any of that, why not the Herald of the Creators? One of the Elven Gods? Some of them do happen to be female, after all!" Of course the Chantry is frightened, but the revelation that people actually believed such nonsense about him frightens him a lot more!
"People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste." Cassandra explains as though she were speaking to a small child, causing the Elf's scowl to deepen.
"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading–" Leliana adds.
"Which we have not." Cassandra adds helpfully, earning another glare from him.
'The point is, everyone is talking about you." The not-so-secret Spymaster concludes almost proudly.
"It's quite the title, isn't it? How do you feel about that?" Cullen actually has the gall to smile at him, how does he expect a Dalish Elf would feel? Proclaimed Herald to a people that had tried exterminating his people years before, and still mistreat them given the chance?
But sensing a warning frown from Cassandra and Leliana, he opts for the most diplomatic answer he can manage through slightly gritted teeth, "It's… a little unsettling, and, I'm no Herald of anything anyway. Certainly not Andraste." Meldarion responds heatedly, sounding petulant even to his own ears.
"I'm sure the Chantry would agree." Cullen smiles wryly.
"Just about the only thing the Chantry and I will ever agree on…" The unwilling Herald mutters.
"People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you're that sign." Leliana points out.
"Ha! I doubt they'd think that, if they really knew what I was like…" Meldarion scoffs self-depreciatingly.
"And to others, a symbol of everything that's gone wrong." Josephine adds, which gives him just the tiniest glimmer of hope…
"So if I wasn't with the Inquisition…" He asks offhandedly, feigning as much innocence as he dares.
"Let's be honest: They would have censured us no matter what." Cullen shakes his head, just as Cassandra adds,
"And you not being here isn't an option."
Damn! Well, it had been worth the attempt to get away and out of this mess…
"So, let me get this straight…" Meldarion steeples his fingers as he consolidates the information as they've provided it, "At the moment, the Chantry is more concerned with the fact that I am an Elf, first and foremost, the Breach doesn't worry them at all? The real threat? And the only people who are able to help us, are the very same that caused all this to happen in the first place, and they won't talk to us because of what the Chantry thinks." He takes a moment to compose himself and keep his rapidly flaring temper in check, "So what pray tell, is this supposed plan that you claim to have devised for us to move forward, because right now, all I'm hearing about are setbacks and dead ends."
"They do know that the Breach is a threat, they just don't think we can stop it." Cullen adds, although he at least seems to be aware that it isn't particularly helpful.
"The Chantry is telling everyone that you'll make it worse." Josephine concurs.
"How could it possibly get-" The Elf interrupts himself just in time, you never said or questioned how something could get any worse, because, if you did, it inevitably would, "If they think I'll just make it worse, who do they expect is going to be able to make the attempt to make it better?"
The gathered Shemlen share a look between them, before Leliana eventually volunteers to respond, although it doesn't appear to have anything to do with answering his question, "There is something you can do. A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."
Never mind the fact that he has no idea how anyone from the Chantry – said institution that had steadfastly declared themselves against him – is supposed to help in dealing with the mage and templar situation; he is uncertain as to why they seem to think it a good idea for him of all people to go meet with said Cleric, "Why would someone from the Chantry help a declared heretic?"
"I understand she is a reasonable sort. Perhaps she doesn't agree with her sisters?" The Spymaster suggests, although he can tell from the slight edge to her voice, that this isn't really a suggestion and that she will broker no further argument from him, and that he is going to damn well go whether he likes it or not.
"Reasonable, you say?" Meldarion feigns an overly polite tone, "My, my…Wouldn't that be a first?"
Leliana sighs and gives a slight shake of her head in exasperation, "You'll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."
Unperturbed by the Herald's behavior, or more likely being too polite to show much of a reaction, Cullen adds, "Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you're there."
And likely wanting to say her piece before he inevitably rushed off, Josephine hastily points out, "We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them."
"Oh, is that all?" And even Meldarion knows he's just being an insufferable ass, but can't seem to stop himself, "Are you certain you don't also want me to bring you back some loaves of bread and cheese wheels?"
Cassandra gives him a look and makes a dismissive gesture with her hand that indicates they can all stop listening to what the Elf has to say for now, "In the meantime, let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald."
"Are you sure about that? Because you damn well seem to be." He can't help but remark snarkily.
The Nevarran frowns and gestures to the others to get on with planning, while she slaps her arm to the Herald's back and leads him towards the door, leaning in close enough to hiss into his ear, "You have made it perfectly clear that you do not wish to be here, and given a choice, I'd gladly work with anyone else! But there is no other choice, you're the only one who can seal the Rifts, and without us, you are as good as dead. So, my advice to you is to stop your incessant complaining, and try speaking civilly to the people you're going to be spending a lot of time working with." And with that, she nudges him out the door, promptly shutting it behind him, while they continue their discussion without him.
Meldarion would like to scream in frustration, this felt too much like the losing arguments he had with the Keeper, who he realizes with a start, he actually misses. He had to make certain she never found out about that, she'd never let him live it down otherwise.
With nothing else to do but prepare to depart for the Hinterlands, he trudges off to change into something more serviceable and make sure they're well stocked in Elfroot, that at least, Haven has in abundance. It would also give him time to think and calm down.