Chapter Text
My dear Ewan,
You have been the light of my life, the song in my heart, for over a year. But the world has changed, and both of us with it. How does one live through the rending of the sky, and still remain the same? I have seen oblivion through the rifts, and I fear our lives are about to end. You told me that the distance between us would be hard to bear, and I said I would never seek the arms of any but yours. I was wrong.
I have met someone in Val Royeaux. She is dark where you are fair. She fills her life with poetry, not battle. And her voice… her tongue trips so sweetly on the trills of the Orlesian language. She gives me hope that we will survive this.
I'm sorry. I will never forget you.
Aurore
Tamrah frowned at the crumpled letter in her hands. Part of her was already calculating how long it would take her to find this Aurore and slap her. Repeatedly.
Ewan was a good man, for a human. While still in Haven, Tamrah had been assigned to a small reconnaissance group. Everyone had been extremely wary that a Qunari was going. Only Ewan welcomed Tamrah and treated her with the same respect as the rest. At first, Tamrah had thought it was because they were both archers, but she soon discovered that Ewan judged a person based on their actions and not on their appearance. It also helped when she explained that she wasn't a true Qunari, but what the Qun referred to as Vashoth.
Crumpling the letter again, Tamrah walked over to the corner fireplace of the room where she discovered it. She placed more firewood on top of the metal grate and stuffed the letter in between the logs with the kindling so that no one else would find and read the depressing missive. Hopefully, whoever lighted the fire tonight would just be grateful that someone had already taken care of the logs.
She left the barracks and stepped out into the lower courtyard. The repairs to Skyhold were moving along nicely. The main hall still needed some work but the roof was fixed. The arched walkway connecting the rotunda to Commander Cullen's residence had been finished a few weeks ago, and Tamrah had felt so much better after the scaffolding was removed. She passed the main gate, catching part of a conversation about two soldiers who had gotten into a fight; one had reached for his dagger only to discover it was gone. Tamrah silently agreed that it was a good thing the blade was missing.
She continued up the stone steps along the wall to the upper courtyard. Scout Harding was in her usual spot outside the Herald's Rest when she returned to Skyhold after a mission. If she hadn't seen the dwarf walk to the barracks the other night, Tamrah would have sworn that she slept there.
"Hey, Tamrah."
"Scout Harding," she greeted.
"You can skip the 'Scout'."
"Alright, but only in Skyhold and no visiting delegates around. Maker save us if they see camaraderie amongst the troops."
"Right," Harding chuckled. "Up to anything tonight?"
"Not really," said Tamrah. "I was thinking about a quick drink."
"Ewan's inside," Harding said, "he went in not long ago."
Tamrah felt a little relieved. "Maybe I won't have to catch up too much." The two laughed and the taller woman bid the shorter one goodnight. As Tamrah entered the Herald's Rest, she considered herself lucky that she didn't have to duck through the doorway due to her lack of horns. The stubs were hidden beneath a dark blue scarf wrapped around her head and the ends were tied around the dark blond braid descending along her back.
Maryden wasn't in the tavern and Tamrah wondered if someone made good on their threat to steal the mistral's lute. Krem was sitting with the Iron Bull and a few others from the Bull's Chargers along with a male elf that she was not familiar with, though she had seen him around Skyhold. His dark brown hair was short at the top and shaved rather close along the sides of his head, a style very similar to Krem's. Golden eyes held a wisdom rarely seen in someone his age. Thin lines of vallaslin on his forehead, cheekbones, and chin dedicated to the elven goddess Mythal stood proudly on tan skin. Tamrah actually liked his vallaslin better than the Charger's Dalish elf.
Deny it all you want, sweetie, you're a mage. Tamrah ordered Antivan brandy from Cabot then walked over to the small group.
"Look out, chief," the dwarf, Rocky, spoke as she approached, "someone's going to challenge you for leadership."
"I'm not that crazy," said Tamrah. "I don't need the rest of the Ben-Hassrath trying to kill me."
"They wouldn't kill you," Bull reassured, "they'd recruit you."
"I'll pass." Tamrah's father had told her several times when he trained her as a child that she would most likely have been a Ben-Hassrath, had she been born under the Qun. "I'd rather not be considered just a resource."
A couple of the Chargers shifted uncomfortably at the less than subtle barb directed at Iron Bull, though he gave no indication of insult. Tamrah kept an eye on Skinner, though, just in case she "accidentally" threw one of her blades at Tamrah's head.
"So are you Tal-Vashoth?" the male elf spoke.
"Vashoth," Tamrah corrected, "I was born outside the Qun." She grinned at him. "Planning on joining this little group here? Fair warning, I hear the Bull's Chargers have a rough initiation."
The Chargers burst out laughing as the Iron Bull and the elf grinned. "Actually," Bull gestured to the elf, "we follow him."
Amethyst eyes widened. "Inquisitor Lavellan…?"
"My given name is Mahanon. I'm still getting used to the title," he smiled.
Maker, did she ever want to sink through the floor at that moment. Tamrah had heard that the Herald of Andraste was a Dalish elf, but she had not seen him in Haven. Or maybe she did at one point but paid him no mind. After the Inquisition arrived at Skyhold, she was in the camps outside the castle helping the soldiers and pilgrims set up tents when Lavellan had been named Inquisitor.
"Need a pry bar for your foot?" Bull asked with a smirk.
"On that note, I think I'll go embarrass myself elsewhere," said Tamrah. "I don't suppose you guys saw Ewan?"
"I saw him go upstairs," said Krem. "He looked a little down. Is everything alright?"
"I'm about to find out." Tamrah said goodnight to the Inquisitor and the Chargers then headed to the tavern's second floor. When she reached the top step, she glanced over to see that the door to Sera's room was closed. Tamrah was relieved because she didn't want the overly-hyper, arrow-shooting, can-just-about-but-barely-make-any-sense-when-talking Friend of Red Jenny making googly-eyes at her.
Tamrah turned to her right and saw Ewan sitting by himself at the table Sutherland and his friends usually occupied when they were in Skyhold. Ewan was staring down into his mug as if it would somehow give him all the answers in the world and Tamrah's heart ached a little. She walked over to the table and sat down across from him.
"Long day?"
"Been a long couple of months," Ewan said without looking up.
Better get it over with, Tamrah decided. "I found the letter. Ewan, I'm sorry."
He sighed deeply. "Guess I should have burned it."
"I set up the fireplace and stuck it in with kindling. I doubt anyone will see it."
"Thanks."
They sat quietly for a while, nursing their drinks and listening to the Chargers belting out their company's song below. It was a nice change from Maryden's singing.
"I shouldn't be surprised that I got that letter," Ewan finally spoke. "I'm not the first and I probably won't be the last. War can do that to some people, but I had hoped we would be an exception."
"It's her loss." Tamrah took a drink from her mug. "She's a fool if she thinks some Orlesian pastry is better."
"Over a Ferelden turnip?"
"I like turnips. They make a good stew."
"The vegetable or the people?"
"Both."
"I'll ask my sister to send her recipe," Ewan chuckled and finally looked up at her. "Word is that the Inquisition might be going to the Emerald Graves."
"The Emerald Graves is sacred to the Dalish, isn't it?"
"A lot of the elven warriors from the Exalted March of the Dales were buried there. There's rumor that quite a few Orlesian soldiers from both sides of the civil war are hiding in the ruins. But there are also sightings of Venatori and Red Templars in the area, too."
"Venatori, Red Templars, and elven ruins are definitely not a good combination," said Tamrah. "What are they hoping to find?"
"Anything and everything. Legend of the ancient elves and their magical empire fueled a lot of historians and explorers fascination."
"Including yours?"
"I'm not a scholar but I did like the idea of a magic kingdom when I was a boy. Don't tell any of the Chantry Sisters here. Or Seeker Pentaghast."
"You weren't the only child wondering about magic kingdoms, so my lips are sealed." Tamrah finished her drink. "Well, time to hit the sack."
"Agreed," Ewan downed the last of his brandy. Both rose from their chairs and carried the mugs with them downstairs. They returned the mugs to Cabot and the dwarven bartender nodded his thanks.
Iron Bull was all by himself; the Chargers having gone to their quarters for sleep. The Inquisitor was gone as well. No doubt for the same reason as he would be leaving in the morning for Crestwood to meet Hawke and hopefully find his Grey Warden ally. Iron Bull glanced over to Ewan and Tamrah, giving them a nod before casting his eye and grin back at the red-haired kitchen server who smiled shyly back at him. Tamrah rolled her eyes; having a feeling that the woman would be late for making breakfast in the morning.
"Think we can sleep in tomorrow if she gets with Bull tonight?" Ewan asked once they left the Herald's Rest.
"Who knows," Tamrah said, "but I certainly wouldn't mind some extra shut-eye."
They headed to the barracks; going back and forth on what supplies would be needed if they were sent to the Emerald Graves. When Tamrah opened the door, the two were greeted by the rest of their group arguing.
"Will you let me light the bloody thing already?"
"There's too much paper stuffed in there!"
"Mirgri, please just let him start the fire. It's getting chilly in here."
"I'm telling you, someone's trying to hide something!"
"What's going on?" Ewan asked.
Ithorhel, the elven mage from Starkhaven, turned to the new arrivals with an exasperated look that said he had been dealing with this longer than he wanted to. "Mirgri is convinced someone is trying to hide something because the fireplace is already set up."
"You can't tell me that it doesn't look suspicious!" the dark-skinned dwarf motioned to the logs. She narrowed her amber eyes at Ithorhel. "Unless you're the one who did it."
"Mirgri, come on," Brenda put her hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. "This is getting a little ridiculous."
"I'm telling you there's something fishy about it." Mirgri went over to Ewan and Tamrah. "What do you two think?"
"Well," Tamrah started.
A flash erupted within the fireplace and Ithorhel slapped his hands together. "Now could we please quiet down and get some sleep?"
"I knew it!" Mirgri pointed an accusing finger at the mage. "You're with Tevinter!"
"I was born in Tantervale and lived at the Starkhaven Circle since I was eight. I've never been to Tevinter and I certainly don't ever want to go. Also, you can probably count on one hand how many elves are current magisters—and they rarely last that long in the Magisterium, according to Dorian. How do you explain that, you pint-sized pea-brain?"
"The fire, of course."
Ithorhel grabbed his jet black hair with a strangled cry, and for a moment, Ewan though he would pull it out.
"I'm done with her! I'm going to bed!" Ithorhel stormed up the ladder to the upper bunk and flopped gracelessly onto the mattress.
Mirgri gave Tamrah and Ewan a big smile as she went over to her bunk and lay down contently.
"What is it with elves and dwarves driving each other crazy?" Tamrah asked.
"I think it's a natural dislike for the other," said Ewan.
"I do like some elves," Mirgri spoke, "present company is still up for debate, though. The natural dislike seems more to be between elves and humans."
"Elves and humans can get along," said Brenda. "Providing certain ones stop bringing up who's superior and whose turn it is to fall." She finished braiding her mouse-brown hair and pale-grey eyes looked at Ewan. "Though I wonder how you feel about being the other human in this group."
"Or the other man," said Ithorhel.
"The jury's still out on you, Pointy," said Mirgri. "When was the last time you had your pipes cleaned?"
"Sooner than when you had your thaig raided."
Brenda groaned and covered her face.
"Images I did not need," Ewan muttered.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't entertained by this," Tamrah confessed.
"I hope you don't mind letting it go until the morning." Brenda climbed to her bunk above Mirgri.
Ewan walked over to his bunk beneath Ithorhel and sat on the mattress. He pulled off his boots and set them at the foot of the bed. Tamrah removed her scarf as she passed him and sat on her single bed, which was almost the length of the back wall.
"And to whoever was snoring last night," Ithorhel spoke, "please try to refrain."
"With your snoring, I'm surprised you don't start a tornado," said Mirgri.
"I don't snore!"
"Yes, you do," Ewan confirmed as he stretched out in his bunk.
"Sorry, Ithorhel," Tamrah settled in her bed, "but you snore like a high dragon."
"Fine, I snore," the elf mage grumbled, "how about the rest of you 'fess up something."
"I pinned a templar lieutenant's small-clothes to the dining hall door as a decoration for Winter's End," said Brenda. "She was such a bitch."
"I ate the dirt from my mum's flower garden," Mirgri said.
"Shocking," said Ithorhel.
"I was really looking for worms. They're chewy."
"Gross!" Brenda gagged as the others made disgusted noises.
"What about you, Tamrah?" Ewan asked.
"I painted my parents' toenails while they were sleeping. To this day, they still think my sisters did it." She looked at Ewan. "Your turn."
"I like floral arrangements."
Ithorhel's deep blue eyes peeked over the bunk's edge. "I had no idea."
"This bunk is the only way I'll ever be under you," said Ewan.
"Actually, he likes being under," Mirgri piped up. "Why don't you go chase the commander?"
"Does he even like anyone?" Ithorhel asked. "And why would I go for a templar?"
"Oh please," said Brenda, "as if that stopped anything from happening in the Circles."
Tamrah smirked. "Something you're not telling us?"
"Not me," Brenda held out her hand, "but I knew there was plenty of action going on. Besides, I'm a recruit. I only had templar training. I've never taken lyrium."
"Why's that?" Ewan asked.
"After Kirkwall, the Circles started to consolidate the lyrium. They kept it only for the senior templars and those who already went through their vigil."
"Same thing at my Circle but a few senior enchanters and the First Enchanter were allowed access," Ithorel said.
"Then the Rebellion started," said Mirgri. "Demand was high at the beginning on both sides."
"Until the red lyrium," said Ewan.
Silence claimed the room as the horrific days replayed in each of their minds.
"Hey, Tamrah," Ithorhel spoke, "what happened to your horns?"
"Seriously?" Ewan knocked on one of the wooden slats supporting the mattress and elf above him.
"They were bitten off by a wyvern," she answered.
"You idiot," Mirgri muttered as Brenda shot the mage a disproving glare. Ewan looked at Tamrah and she winked at him with a smirk. He smiled back, realizing that she was messing with Ithorhel.
"Goodnight, everyone," Tamrah said.