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The wind felt both cold and dry against the exposed skin of his face, but he was starting to get used to it. At the very least, today he was wearing appropriate clothing- the warm boots were a nice protection against the snow. For a mage whose affinity was ice, he certainly didn’t enjoy the direct contact with snow for large periods of time.
Truth be told, his current location was far from ideal. He had done the best to sneak past Skyhold’s guards –which wasn’t hard, considering how overworked everyone was– and traveled a long enough distance through the mountain to find a small patch of earth that wasn’t completely covered in snow. He took a look around- maybe when spring comes, it would look a little greener. If he was lucky, he would live enough to see it.
With a heavy sigh, he brought his attention back to the small statue in front of him. It was Sylaise, made in wood, because he couldn’t get his hands into one craved out of stone. It was a rather crude version of the one in his clan; but his craving wasn’t the best and he wasn’t going to pretend he inherited any of his father’s skills. He remembered the old man in Redcliffe, maybe he could ask him about getting one made of stone. He knew the best way was simply approaching the local Clan, but the idea of showing up to their place with the Inquisition’s banner made his skin crawl.
He needed to sort his feelings out he thought, while arranging a few candles around the statue, for he now was the literal face of this organization. He felt both pride and horror of being put as the center of an organization so clearly based on human’s faith. He didn’t have much options, the mark was right there on his hand and apparently he had already been bossing people around enough for them to decide he might as well sit on the throne. But he felt it was too much and not enough at the same time.
He was important now, because the mark made him so- but he was still a mage, a dalish elf, and the nervousness wasn’t going to go away just like that. How long, until he was disposable again. How much could he do, until he was pushed away.
At the same time, he could see the opportunity. While turning the candles on with a small flick of his magic, he took note of all the changes he could make, if he set his foot hard enough while he had the power of the mark to keep them at line.
He wasn’t a herald of any human god, but he couldn’t help feel deep in his chest that maybe his gods, the Creators, had given him this chance.
And suddenly, the idea was terrifying.
He heard the footsteps before the voice came- heavy, armored and pretty recognizable.
— Inquisitor? —her voice, her accent, was such a delight to hear. But not in the middle of the mountains, let alone caught in front of an altar. He took a deep breath- time to bullshit your way out of this. He had to, he felt like he had to.
— Lady Cassandra — he turned to look at her with a dashing smile- fancy a walk around the mountain?
She groaned in response, a regular reaction so he relaxed.
—Josephine has been looking for you for what feels like hours. One scout said they saw you leave alone, carrying something. — She explained, while wrapping her arms around her body to warm herself up. Her voice was calm, and she seemed more confused than upset.
— You can’t escape Leliana’s little birds, can you? — He said with a soft laugh. He wanted to hit himself for thinking that no one was actually watching. — Just a little trip, I’m sorry it took so long. — He made a pause, and put his best smile. — Or where you still worried that I’ll run away?
His stupid smile must have hidden how real his concern was, because Cassandra rolled her eyes with amusement.
— I’ve seen you deal with snow; I have no fear of you escaping Skyhold by foot. — She said with a smile. Now they’re joking, great. He can work with that.
—I’m wounded. Ice magic is my thing, and snow is… loose ice. — that actually took a light snort out of the Seeker.
—And yet you get buried in it so easily. I can’t believe you made out of that mountain alive.
In his defense, he wasn’t used to walk around in snow. He got himself stuck a shameful amount of times during the travel to Skyhold, even when he was supposed to be the one guiding the people. At one point, Bull even suggested to carry him over his shoulders. The only explanation he had to his escape of the falling mountain before that was sheer survival desperation.
—Trust me, I agree. — He answered while grimacing at the memory. He was more resistant to cold than most, but that doesn’t mean he enjoyed wandering for hours in some snowy mountains at night.
Cassandra smiled and then looked over his shoulder, spotting the small altar with the lit candles. Elaar can feel himself wince as she rises one beautiful eyebrow in question.
— You came all the way down here for this small altar? Was this here before? — her tone seemed to indicate genuine curiosity, so Elaar took a deep breath and put his best relaxed mask on.
—I did. I made it. — He turns to arrange the flowers for the tenth time, to hide his anxiousness. He can’t help but add; — Am I getting arrested for blasphemy?
Cassandra seems to miss the edge of nervousness in his question, so she simply scoffs.
—Don’t be ridiculous, if we start with that, then more than half of the inquisition would be in prison.
He simply lets go of a small chuckle and decides to focus entirely in re-arranging the flowers. He fixes them according to size and color, making quite the lovely display. He can feel Cassandra observe him, taking only a few steps to take a better look over his shoulder. He smiles to himself, takes a ceramic plate from his bag and places it in front of the statue.
-You can ask, you know. I can’t say no to a lovely lady.
He only looks at her from the corner of the eye, and catches her tensing up as a blush colors her cheeks. It could be easily blamed in the cold, but he had noticed how easy it was to make her blush sometimes. She still remains pretty interested in what he is doing. After a little bit of fidgeting with herself, she speaks;
—Is it for one of the elven Gods? Here in the middle of the mountain?
—Yes. It’s for Sylaise, protector of the home. — He carefully reaches out to put out a few small apples from his bag— I mean, the keeper would probably kick my ass for putting her here in the middle of a frozen mountain, but I do what I can.
His tone remained upbeat as usual, but carried some hurt. Cassandra felt it, and didn’t know how to answer. She hadn’t had any conversations with him about his beliefs after their first argument ended pretty badly, only overheard him speak with other people about it. She realized that she was completely clueless about this aspect of him.
— You don’t speak about this often… You said you didn’t believe in the Maker, and I’ve never seen you pray so… —- She started to speak, but he was quick to answer before she could drag more words around.
— So you assumed I didn’t believe in anything? I did tell you back in Heaven that I believe in my Gods, didn’t I? — The reminder of their last argument made Cassandra feel defensive all of sudden. — They’re quite enough for me. But I guess I don’t speak as often about them as a regular andrastrian goes about their maker. —His voice took a small turn, it wasn’t quite the same he used to give orders, but closer to the one he used to give explanations he clearly wasn’t enjoying doing. He continued before she could complain, his tone calm but firm;
— Can’t blame me when the Chantry turned our beliefs into crimes. I’m not here to talk about religion to anyone, Creators forbid I don’t have time for that. But I do believe. — His tone was firm, and Cassandra finally realised how wrong she actually was, rendering her speachless for a moment. He continued, this time with a softer tone;
—Maybe you think that I was sent by your Maker, and I believe I was protected by Mythal. I have faith, in my own things. Maybe that is all that matters.
The silence between them grew heavier. Cassandra averted her gaze into the endless white snow. She felt conflicted. She felt like she misjudged, again. And it hurt deeply to realize it. He was a faithful man, and she was far too quick to assume he wasn’t- because the faith he possessed was placed into something else, and he had to travel through the snowy mountains only to find a place of worship, because he felt like he couldn’t do it in the very organization he was leading. She felt ashamed.
Elaar didn’t push it, turning back to continue working on the altar. He carefully placed the apples onto the ceramic plate in front of the statue. Cassandra bit her lip. How blind is she? How many things is she being shortsighted about? For someone who spoke about change, she felt the weight of her own lack of understanding. But she couldn’t remain paralyzed, she had to do something. She didn’t know what change must be done, but it had to be done. She took a deep breath;
—The Chantry saved my life. Faith saved my life. If someone tried to remove it from me, I would be crushed. You have sacrificed a lot for us, and you continue to sacrifice yourself for us. I do believe you were sent by the Maker, and because of that I think… it isn’t fair that you have to sneak around to honor your people.
Elaar turns to look back at her, surprise clearly painted on his beautiful features. He blinked a few times, but didn’t speak. Cassandra felt uneasy, still ashamed, and wanted to fidget like a child under scrutiny. But it wasn’t place for that, she needed to get her point across, so she continued while trying to keep eye contact with him.
—There is a lot that the Chantry has done wrong, there is a lot that its done wrong to your people in particular, and its current state there is no moral ground to stand from where it can judge anyone’s beliefs. —She almost needed to remind herself that there was no moral ground for judgement from her side. So much wrong has been done. She continued, albeit a bit doubtful of her choice of words —There is a lot that I don’t understand but… as long as we deny and repeat the mistakes we made, we won’t be able to change. You have been most understanding, even I admit I could never have done the same in your place.
She felt a weight lift from her tense shoulders as he smiled, and then chuckled a bit while slowly shaking his head. In that moment, her heart was filled with the intense need to understand this man, to know more of him. To see those genuine moments.
—Oh, I would love to see you being called Andruil’s Herald by a bunch of elves. That would be a show. — He jokes, his tone back to his usual warm. The right kind, the kind that felt real. She felt her cheeks warm up more than they should.
—You’re a very patient, yet infuriating man. — her comment makes him laugh even more.
—And charming! Don’t forget that. — he adds with a dashing smile and a wink.
She can’t help but grunt and roll her eyes. He was right.
There was a small pause after he stopped laughing. He looked back at her with calm;
—I appreciate it, Cassandra. I don’t wish for you to think that my faith means I’m against yours. I admire your faith, I would like to be able to stand like that, for mine. If you honestly see the mistakes of the Chantry and wish to make it better, that is noble.
She can feel herself blush again; the cold was getting to her.
—Most people would think I’m just too stubborn. — she adds, trying to look at anywhere except his face, that was turning far too handsome the more she looked at it.
—It has its charm.
She had to completely turn away to hide the blush, making him start laughing again. She starts to walk, but stops and speaks over her shoulder.
—Take your time while you can, but we should leave soon before the advisors send a search party.
With that, she continued to walk. Elaar looked at her back smiling softly, he could feel the tips of his ears warmer than before. Finally, turned back to the altar to do his prayers.
The small encounter has been filling his thoughts all week. He finds himself looking at Cassandra more often, and notices how she seems to be more interested in asking him about his habits. He can feel it doesn’t come from a place of scrutiny, he had been there before, she seems to be curious.
He knows the feel that is growing inside him, it scares him. He is starting to feel attraction towards her- and there is so much to unpack about it. The conversation they shared on the mountain gave him hope, it was an improvement from the first time they spoke about his beliefs. Part of him wanted to be hopeful, life was dark around him. He wasn’t even sure he will survive long enough to care, why don’t feed this small joy? It felt warm.
He was lost in his own mind when he ended up in the gardens. It needed a lot of work to be called a proper garden yet, but the people were doing amazing with what they had.
He overheard some whispering, and turn to look at some Chantry sisters that quickly stopped and greeted him. There was a small chapel nearby, right? The garden was where most of the Chantry people gathered around, guiding their people, hopefully. Elaar greeted them back and turned around to see what had caught the attention of the sisters, and he couldn’t help but rise one of his non-existent eyebrows.
A small group of agents, all of them Dalish elves, where gathered around of what it looked like a small elven altar. How he didn’t notice them earlier was proof that his mind was wandering a bit too much. More important than that, they were arguing among them. Quite a lot. Elaar could feel the headache rise, and he took a deep breath before approaching with a calm smile.
The closer he got, the stranger the situation it turned.
—This is too big.
—It’s too small! Why the shems get to make big statues and us not!
—More important, my clan would never put these kind of flowers here.
—This is how we do it in my clan, and we are from the Free Marches like Lavellan, so suck it up.
—Okay, okay, lethallen. What is all this ruckus about? —Elaar interrupted quickly.
All of them turned around with various degrees of embarrassment, while greeting him with a few loud “Inquisitor!”. He could recognize them from around the camp, a few of them joined not long ago. An older arcane warrior nodded to start speaking first, Elaar had asked him for some guidance in training the past week. A formidable and calm man;
—Sister Nightingale asked some of our Dalish agents to set up an altar in the gardens, so our people could honor our Gods and reaffirm the Inquisition’s position of acceptance of everyone. — He looks around at the others. — The young ones have opinions.
Quickly, a chorus of “It’s too small!” and “It’s the perfect size!” started between a few young hunters. Elaar shakes his head confused, they stop yelling at each other while he leans closer to them.
—Leliana said that?
Everybody nods. One of the young hunters gets ahead and speaks excitedly;
—This area of the gardens is tended mostly by elves, so there will be no disturbance! We will protect the altar and we won’t leave any she… human cause disturbances between our people.
The older warrior nods solemnly.
—You can pray too, Inquisitor.
Elaar takes a deep breath. It was a lot to take in, but first thing first.
—Thank you, hahren. Thank you, everyone. I trust your work… Now, every clan does things slightly different; so we aren’t going to be fighting among ourselves, alright?
After a lot of talking, breaking arguments and going around, nighttime was close. Elaar decided to postpone asking Leliana about this, so far nothing screamed chaos. He stopped by the gardens; now a lovely altar was there, covered in pretty much every flower and fruit available in Skyhold. Only half a day; people were clearly delighted to have their own place of worship.
He took a small walk around, greeting the guards confirming that they where in fact elves. He felt relieved and decided to walk back to the altar to make a little prayer. He had to thank the Creators for this small joy.
After finishing, he remained on his knees looking at the candlelight in awe. The mountain fell a bit warmer today, he thought. Then, the sound of a door opening behind him makes him look around. It was Cassandra leaving the small chapel, she stops mid movement. Elaar couldn’t help but smile warmly, and he could swear she was blushing now. He felt his own cheeks color up.
Cassandra made an effort not to fidget, and walks up to where he is sitting. He follows her with this gaze, a soft smile turning a little more playful as she approaches.
—I suspect that you had some influence in this, or should I be afraid that Leliana can hear us talk in the middle of the mountains?
She averts her gaze slightly.
—I did bring up the reason of your trip. Leliana suggested the solution… she believes she can control any possible tensions. It seemed like a sensitive approach.
She wasn’t going to go into detail, about she voiced her concerns for the Inquisitor’s wellbeing and his rights to have a place to pray, while still being at loss at how avoid tensions and possible conflicts between the people. Leliana knew her well, listened to her ranting and reassured her something could be done. Change never was peaceful, but needed to be done. Admitting that she didn’t had the subtlety to think of how to bring it to life was a hard pill to swallow, but if it meant that Elaar felt more at home, she needed to look for help.
—I won’t lie, I’m concerned. But I trust Leliana. And this is lovely. — he said, looking at the offerings illuminated by the soft candlelight. Cassandra too was surprised by the calm and beautiful atmosphere.
But with that, she couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat quicken a little bit with the sight of Elaar’s profile under the warm light. He looked at peace. She wanted him to look like this always. She needed to distract herself;
—It’s… It’s normal to have so many…? — she wasn’t even sure how to ask. Elaar laughed.
—No, but every clan offers different things. It really shows how the people in Skyhold are really from all parts of Thedas, doesn’t it?
There was so much to learn, so many mistakes to face and wounds to heal. But tonight, they felt like it was possible. To nurture themselves, work for the change they wanted in the world while learning about each other.
Because more than anything, Cassandra wanted to see that warm smile every day.