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10 years had passed since The Inquisitor had closed the breach that tore the sky open, causing demons to slip through the cracks and terrorise the people of Thedas. Against all odds, she had done it; she had saved the world.
But before becoming The Inquisitor, Daella Lavellan was just that – Daella. A daughter, a sister, and an amazing protector of the clan; Rook was lucky to be her sister.
When she left for the Temple of Secret Ashes 10 years ago to gather information as a spy, Rook didn’t imagine what her sister's life would become. It was supposed to be a simple spy mission, a few days, maybe less, but the temple was attacked and utterly destroyed. Her sister had survived the explosion, but at the cost of her identity.
Rook remembers the chaos that it was. She was 16 at the time, and Clan Lavellan was in shambles, not knowing what happened to Daella, worried sick for their fellow member, only for them to be visited by men who wore a symbol in their chest with pride that Rook didn’t recognise. She later found out it was The Inquisition symbol, and Clan Lavellan was to be protected by orders coming from The Herald of Andraste.
She remembers being told by a blond man with a scar on his lip that Daella was now the Herald and a member of the Chantry; Rook refused to believe his words. Daella, who loved and worshipped their Gods as a second nature. Daella, who used magic like it was air. Daella, who was dreading their mission as a spy to the temple, was put off by the simple fact that she had to be in a Chantry. Rook refused to believe his words, swearing her sister would never be a Herald of a God she did not worship. His words were only half-truths, though. Her sister had become the Herald, but not by choice, like the man seemed to otherwise be convinced of.
One day, after weeks of waiting for her sister, she came to visit. Daella looked exhausted. Rook remembers seeing her sister approach the camp with a smile, and yet it didn’t reach her eyes like it always had. She made her way to Rook, looping her arms around her neck and hugging her impossibly close. Her left hand felt warmer than her right hand somehow, but Rook didn’t care; she was only glad their sister was finally back. The reunion was short but full of love and affection. Daella looked tired, and yet she looked at Rook as the most precious thing in the world. She remembers Daella took the time to settle down and greet the rest of the clan before going back to Rook and giving her the explanation she deserved.
Daella explained how the Chantry had blown up because of a magister, who had opened the breach and therefore caused the explosion; she explained that she possessed the only thing that could close the breach for good. She had been made Herald, even though she made it clear she worshipped their Elvhan Gods, but due to political stances, she didn’t have a say in the matter.
Rook watched as her sister explained the situation with such tired eyes, but what really stuck with Rook was when Daella told her that she would not be able to come back home; she would not stay with the clan.
Anger was at the forefront of her mind at the time. Rook was convinced her sister was abandoning her to fend for herself. But under all that anger, there was fear, the fear of losing her sister to the breach and now that anchor that took root in her left hand. She remembers being consoled by Daella, reassuring her that nothing would happen to her and she would be safe with The Inquisition, and Rook believed her, of course she did. If Daella had said fish could fly, she would have believed her.
She took her leave after that, leaving a gift to the clan so they had food for at least a few weeks, courtesy of The Inquisition, and with the promise that she would write as often as she could to Rook, Daella left. She wrote to her every few weeks; they were brief and full of mystery; Daella made clear she could not speak much in those letters, so they were only short updates. Rook hated that, but it was better than having no word from her sister, so she took it.
Two years later, Rook had the chance to see their sister face-to-face again after the disbandment of The Inquisition. Daella wrote a short letter about it to keep Rook updated, but made it clear that it was not the end of it all, and their next visit was to be a short one. Something in Rook ached at how miserable and tired her sister looked when she finally arrived. Daella was armless, their left arm, where the anchor was, there prior was now gone from the elbow down. She had bags under her eyes, and her vallaslin was…gone, it just wasn’t there anymore, and Rook couldn’t fathom how it was even possible.
Fear and confusion were taking over Rook’s mind. How could she be so blind to her own sister’s suffering? The letters didn’t say anything explicitly, but maybe she should’ve looked harder, read them a million times to try and understand.
What Daella explained after was heartbreaking. Daella had her arm taken by an ex-member of The Inquisition, Solas, in a way to save her life, and he did as such. She didn’t explain who Solas was, but she did promise one day she would. And that day was today.
Rook is determined to know who Solas is, who this man is that Daella talks so much and yet so little about with Varric when she's in the same room. She was always watching Daella from the shadows, wanting to help the best she can and now, 7 years after Daella had her arm taken, Rook is about to get her answers.
The two sisters stood in this room alone, Varric and Harding long gone to give them privacy. Daella had her back to Rook, making a cup of Orlain coffee that Josephine had gifted her. The tension in the room was palpable, lingering from their meeting with Varric before, but also the fact that Rook was on edge, a dust molecule away from snapping.
“You’re angry,” Daella spoke softly into the silence, sighing heavily as she finally finished with her coffee and went to sit down in a chair.
“I am,” Rook says with a tight, sarcastic smile. She shifts her weight in between her feet, uncomfortably tensing and relaxing her hands.
Daella turns her face to Rook, eyes intense and challenged in a manner; Daella has grown cold over the years, as if she had lost something dear to her. Rook didn't understand where it came from. Before The Inquisition, Daella told Rook everything. They were skin and bone, but now Rook didn’t even know her own sister's favourite food anymore.
She lifts the mug, taking a careful sip of her coffee before speaking, “What is it then?”
“Are you going to tell me who Solas actually is?” Rook finally snaps, anger piling up in their gut. She doesn’t know whom she’s angry at, maybe she's angry at Daella for shutting herself out, maybe she's angry with Solas, who's causing all of this or maybe she’s angry just because.
“You know who he is. He’s an old member of The Inquisition who has gone rogue. He’s the DreadWolf, Fen’harel, and is planning on tearing down the Veil.” Daella speaks in a calm, stoic tone, but she has this edge in her voice, a flicker in her eyes that doesn’t match her words.
“Bulshit.” She says tightly, gritting their teeth, knowing there’s more to it.
Daella slowly puts her mug down, lifting her eyes towards Rook. She shifts in the chair; she always hated those looks Daella gave her; she looked like their father when she had that look. It was bittersweet knowing she still had something of their father left.
“Solas…” Daella starts, and Rook straightens up at that. She can see her sister’s walls coming down after 7 years, “…was someone I cared deeply about. Someone I lost.”
She watches as Daella places the tips of her fingers against her cheek, reminiscing about something.
“He took my vallaslin, well, he gave me the choice to, and I let him. He took my arm to save my life. He also took something else.” Daella looks down at their mug, watching the steam coming from the coffee.
Rook doesn’t speak; she doesn’t dare to. Her sister had kept that part of her life a secret for 7 years; she will not interrupt her now.
“People know him as Fen’harel, The DreadWolf, Apostate of The Inquisition, Traitor of his people. I knew him by another name…vhenan.” This time, she looks up, and Rook's heart can be heard breaking in the room. Daella’s eyes are watery, shimmering more than normal.
“I loved him, his sharp mind and his knowledge of The Fate captivated me. I wanted to know more about our people, I wanted to learn more about why we dream, and the difference between demons and spirits. And he answered my question, he spoke softly like velvet and as sweet as honey. It didn’t take long for me to give him my heart on a silver platter.” She laughed, shaking her head slightly before taking the mug in her hand, but this time Rook watched as it shook softly.
“He took my heart and cherished it. I loved him, and maybe I am a fool because I still love him.” Daella makes no attempt to keep the tear that falls down her face; she dries it quickly and takes in a shaky breath as her eyes finally land on Rook again.
Rook’s jaw is set so tight she thinks her teeth might shatter from the pressure. She can feel the tension on her face, feel the tightness of her brows knitted together, lips in such a deep frown she can feel every wrinkle, and she hates it; Rook hates this tension on her face, it must look distraught because Daella’s face breaks down when she sees it.
Rook moves, kneeling next to her sister on the left. She stares momentarily at the wooden prosthetic before looking back at her sister's face.
Her sister’s face breaks, like ice cracking, but in a way where it’s so cold it immediately reforms but the cracks don’t leave. Daella shakes her head softly, as if trying to stop something from happening. Rook doesn’t speak; she just hugs her sister; it's awkward from this angle. Rook is on her knees while Daella is sitting on the chair, her arms go around her sister’s waist and pull her close, her face is buried on her side near her stomach. It reminds Rook of when she would hug her sister when she was tiny; it's familiar.
Eventually, Daella places her wooden hand over her sister's head as the other comes to caress Rook’s hair in comfort. Rook moves away and looks up at their sister and sees distraught in her face, she has never seen that in her sister’s face; Rook doesn’t know how to describe the pain Daella looks like she’s in right now. It’s like her heart has been ripped out, and yet she feels it.
The anger and rage in Rook become stronger. It takes place at the bottom of her heart, moving swiftly and fast towards its centre, fogging and consuming everything in its wake. She hates to see the pain her sister is going through, hates seeing the damage that this man has done to her. Daella, the strong and carefree woman she once was now is this cold, hardened and broken woman known as The Inquisitor. Nothing else.
Gods are supposed to protect us. The thought comes sharply into her mind, the hate that comes with it taking over her mind, and she doesn’t deny it. Rook welcomes it. He is no god.
“Let me go with Varric and Harding.” Rook hides that anger, the rage for this man she has never met, from her sister, knowing she’ll deny her of it.
“Absolutely not.” The answer is immediately firm.
“I can help. You know I can help them.” Rook pushes, standing up and moving away from Daella, putting some distance between them.
Daella stands from her place, moving slowly and calculating. Rook’s sister shifts her gaze mechanically, like it’s a theatre play, practised. The powerful woman that the South of Thedas fears takes the front.
“I will not risk your life for this mission.”
“And yet, you’ll risk Varric and Harding?” Low blow, Rook knows that. She knows the guilt Daella feels in sending the two most trusted people she has to the middle of this search mission. Regret fills her gut, but she pulls it down, determined to get through to her sister.
“They know how to handle themselves.” Daella doesn’t back away, but Rook watches a flicker of pain cross her eyes.
“And I don’t?!” Rook’s voice rises slightly, on the verge of breaking.
“That’s NOT what I said. Do not put words into my mouth.” The sharpness in Daella’s voice is ice cold, and yet it's low like a whisper; it cuts through any smart remarks Rook had in store.
The silence that follows is deafening, and both women take in the tension in the room. Rook contained anger in her heart, holding it and hiding it the best she can and Daella, with clear worry and anger, but there’s something here. It's a pride for her sister.
“Let. Me. Help.” Those words are ripped out of Rook’s chest as if it pained her to do so, and maybe it does. She wishes she didn’t need to beg her sister to be useful; she didn’t need to prove herself to her sister. She should be enough.
“You know I can, you know I’m capable. You can’t keep me away from it.”
“I will not have you die because of me!”
Rook doesn’t think she has ever heard Daella’s voice be this loud. Daella, the kindest soul you’ll ever meet, never shouts or screams at people; she talks in soft tones and caresses, voice sweet as honey. This, this sharpness, coldness, and authoritative voice is something Rook hasn't heard directed at her.
She hates it.
“I will not lose you. I will not lose the only family I have left.” Daella breaks, the strong and fierce expression immediately crumbling down into something pitiful.
Rook takes a step forward, her mind and body urging her to go to her sister, to comfort her like all those times before where Daella has comforted her, but she stops; she needs to put her foot down.
“If I were to lose you, I would surely lose myself.” Daella’s words come out soft in the midst of her anguish, as if her own body knows the meaning of those words even when her mind is in shambles. And how they were true.
“You won’t lose me. I’ll always be here. I’ll always come back to you.” Rook whispers back, the truth leaving her lips easily.
“Don’t lie to me.” Daella’s tone is lighter, teasing, but there’s an edge to it.
“I would never lie to you.”
Rook doesn’t think she has spoken truer words than she had right this instant. Rook felt lighter speaking them; the words were lodged in her chest painfully till now, and Daella has opened the gates to it. Daella and Rook were the same, two sides of the same coin; one could not live without the other, they would not allow it. They were raised Dalish, raised as travellers of Thedas, storytellers and hunters. If Daella said to climb, Rook showed up with a robe - if Rook said to light a fire, Daella showed up with gallons of oil. They understood one another in ways only they could; they were vines always reaching and intertwining with one another, they were poison from the same thorn.
Daella's eyes land on Rook again, but this time they’re analysing, searching for her sister. Rook doesn’t know what she searches for, and Daella lets nothing show.
“I need people who Solas don’t know, so he’s caught by surprise.”
Rook tenses up, already preparing herself to convince her sister, but Daella puts her hand up, stopping Rook from speaking.
“But, I’ve kept you a secret the whole time. The only people who know of your existence are Cullen, Harding and Varric. I’ve made sure of it.” The words come out of Daella’s mouth as it pains her to do so. Daella might want to keep Rook safe, but she can’t deny the truth.
“You can’t keep me caged while you’re out saving the world again. I can help you.” Rook takes a step forward slowly, like Daella is an animal about to bolt.
“I can share the burden of responsibility with you.” This is not the first time Rook has told this to her sister, but this time it feels like Daella will listen
“This burden is mine to carry, sister.” Daella smiles sadly at Rook; there’s gratitude in her eyes, but so much undeniable pain.
Rook closes her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat painfully. She doesn’t know if it’s anger or sadness, but it’s something painful within Rook that has always been there, lurking and waiting to come out.
“Daella, I won’t stand here as the world crumbles around us. I will help with or without your blessing.” Rook never defied her sister; their souls were intertwined in ways they couldn’t understand. They would argue, fight and sail away from one another, but they would always find a common ground to lie on. That is who they are as people.
Daella sits down on the chair, sighing heavily like the world is on her shoulders, and in a way, they are. She runs a hand roughly over her face, momentarily stopping by her cheek, tracing ink that once resided there.
“If something happens to you-“ Daella cuts herself off, closing her eyes painfully, face crumbling into something hard to watch.
Rook doesn’t dare to speak, not now. She knows her sister, when she’s making a decision, she starts speaking the pros and cons out loud, calming herself down in the process.
Daella speaks, voice trembling, but she does not open her eyes, “Do you genuinely wish to risk yourself for this?”
“Yes,” Rook speaks with no hesitation, staring at her sister with hope.
Daella nods, opens her eyes and stares at Rook with seriousness, “Varric will be with you at all times, and so will Harding. They’ll make sure you’re okay-“
A massive smile comes over Rook’s face, and she moves. She loops her arms around her sister’s neck, bending down and squeezing her hard.
“Thank you. I won’t disappoint you.” Rook’s voice is only a whisper, trembling with emotion.
Daella hugs Rook back, her right hand squeezing her so hard it could bruise, “You can’t and will never disappoint me.”
Rook lets go of Daella, holding her sister’s face in between her hands. She grins, a small laugh escaping her, and she rubs her thumbs over her cheeks.
“I love you, sister,” Daella speaks softly, staring up at Rook.
Daella is a person who’s full of love, but never speaks those words out loud. Daella loves quietly, in a way where she would change an entire system for that person and expect nothing in return. She’s like their mother in that way, loving from the shadows and actions but never speaking it out loud.
So those moments are rare, the moments where Daella speaks about her love.
“I love you, sister,” Rook answers with a laugh, stepping away from her sister with a grin.
“I’ll go find Varric and Harding to explain my new role in all of this,” She grins, looking at Daella with nothing but love.
Daella sighs heavily but nods towards her sister once, nodding towards the door.
Rook leaves the room soon after, skipping on their step like a child who has just been given a new toy. Having a chance to help her sister and lifting the burden that comes with responsibility is something Rook has always wanted to help her with.
And now she finally has the chance to.