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The cold night air bit at Ceri’s skin as she watched the stars overhead. Each constellation told a story, one she repeated to herself as she picked them out. It was rare, if not unheard of, for someone to say that the sky grounded them. And yet, there Ceri sat, using the sky and stars to keep her from losing her mind now that everyone had returned from Adamant Fortress. Since she had returned from the Fade.
There was plenty to haunt her about their siege. Leaving Stroud behind, everything that had crawled from the woodwork in the Fade, and exactly what she had learned about herself. About the anchor. It was a relief to know that, in everything that had happened, it hadn’t been Andraste that had given her the mark. Despite everything that people had tried to heap on her, it wasn’t true. She was Dalish, and the human gods had no sway over her. Still, there was a small part of her that reeled from it. This was what so much of the Inquisition’s identity had been built upon, her being Herald, being a sign from the Bride of the Maker. It gave them sway. Would it be better to give in? Just for the sake of the Inquisition? She need not believe it, but how would Andrastian feel about a Dalish elf leading their organisation?
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice said behind her, and Ceri jumped, turning to find Leliana standing a few feet away. Her spymaster was wrapped in a blanket, covering a shift and simple boots.
“No, not at all. I was simply looking at the stars. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.” Ceri gestured to the spot next to her on the battlements, and Leliana moved to join her. The pair stood in silence, each woman’s head tipped back towards the sky. The wind whipped around them, pulling their hair around their faces in loose tendrils.
“Do you see that constellation?” Ceri asked, pointing to one of the constellations above them. “I believe Andrastians call it Equinor, but the Dalish call it The Halla. We have a story about it, actually. After Fen’Harel sealed the gods away and the shemlen arrived in Thedas, there was a halla. She was beautiful and much loved by the elves that cared for her. A noble beast that often saw her rider safely in and out of battle. It was the dead of winter, and while the elves were eating well some of the nearby shemlen were struggling to keep their stores. While the shemlen were out hunting one day, they spotted the halla. She was well cared for, fat despite the winter, and the shemlen were hungry. They began to pursue the halla, chasing it through the trees. No matter how far the halla ran or how much distance she seemed to put between herself and the hunters, they would not leave her trail. Desperate to live, the halla leapt between the trees and into the sky, leaving the hunters far behind. Though she had left her people and the elves she loved so much on the ground, she still wanted to be there for them and watch over them. So, the halla climbed her way higher into the sky and became turned into stars, becoming The Halla.”
“I’d never heard that story before, I like it,” Leliana said, eyes still on the sky. There was a pause before she pointed to her own cluster of stars. “I shared this with my Persephone when we travelled together during the Blight, about Alindra and her soldier. Alinda was a fair maiden, who spurned all suitors after her hand. One day, while signing from her window in her father’s castle, her voice captured the attention of a young soldier. Entranced by her voice, the soldier found his way to her window, and when their eyes met they fell in love with one another. When she told her father, he was furious. Alindra was high born, and meant to marry someone of her station. To keep them apart, Alindra’s father trapped her in a tower and sent her soldier off to war. Within a month, the soldier had been killed in battle, leaving Alindra alone. Heartbroken, she begged the gods to free her from this cruel world. Moved by her plea, the gods lifted Alindra into their arms and made her a star, alongside the soul of her soldier who now sits on the horizon across from her. The stars between them is Alindra’s river of tears as she cries for her lost love. When she has cried enough, she will cross the river and be with her soldier again.”
“It seems these stories tend to have some kind of bittersweet ending,” Ceri said, leaning against the wall of the battlement.
“It would seem so.”
They lapsed back into silence, and Ceri turned back to her thoughts. What should come first? Her beliefs or the Inquisition? She had no doubt Josephine had a plan for how to handle these things, what they should do moving forward, but if she had to have another conversation about the importance of appearing converted, she would scream. That was the other part that chafed. Take the pretty, feral, Dalish elf and turn her into an upstanding citizen with the blessing of the Bride of the Maker. It all made her desperately, incandescently—
“How do you do it? Keep your faith in the face of all of this?” Leliana asked, shocking Ceri out of her thoughts.
“I… well,” Ceri floundered for words as she looked to Leliana, trying to push her own jumbled feelings aside. “Do you mean, in regards to being Dalish? Or in general?”
“With your beliefs, your faith in the Dalish gods. After everything that’s happened, how do you hold onto it?”
Ceri was quiet as she considered the question. It would be disingenuous to act as if she never doubted or questioned herself and her beliefs. Had she not just been doing so? Still, she had never abandoned them. She had never stopped believing in the Evanuris. Part of her knew that, despite her questions and doubts and fears, she never would.
“It’s not always easy,” she admitted, looking back towards the sky. “I question myself, my choices all the time. Still, I hold true to my belief and the beliefs of my people even when it feels hard because… they comfort me. The stories I grew up with, the ones I learned to be Keeper, they all offer me something. A lesson, a memory, a connection to the past. Even if my gods were sealed away by Fen’Harel and no longer hold sway over the world, there’s still so much the can offer us in understanding how the world works. And it gives me a way to connect with my people, the rest of the Dalish. A history that brings us all together and that we’ve tried not to let the Chantry take from us.”
They lapsed back into silence, Leliana mulling over Ceri’s answer. One patrol walked by, politely pretending their Inquisitor and spymaster weren’t standing just a few feet away in their nightclothes.
“I’ve… struggled. So much has happened, so many innocent and good people hurt or killed. How could the Maker allow such things to happen to his children? How could… how could He let such things happen?” Leliana asked, eyes moving from the sky to the floor.
“Sometimes bad things happen to good people. It’s… easy to question the gods then, to wonder why they would let these things happen. I think it’s easier to question when you’re directly involved and see the impact of these things. I can’t tell you what to believe, but I think, in the end, you just have to trust the plan the gods have. Trust that everything bad we face will eventually lead to good,” Ceri said. Leliana hummed in acknowledgement, eyes still on the floor.
The wind picked up, cutting through Ceri’s nightgown and making her shiver. Leliana glanced over to her, pausing before she opened her blanket and offered half of it to Ceri. She thanked her softly and tucked into the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with Leliana.
“Thank you, for sharing your thoughts with me,” Leliana said.
“Well, it seemed like the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me.”
Leliana smiled, eyes moving back to the stars overhead. “Do you have any other stories about the stars?”
“I do, actually. Are you familiar with the constellation Fenrir?”