Blood of Andraste.
The words hung in Romulus's mind for the entire walk back to Winterwatch, the fortress occupied by his Disciples. That they had named themselves such was immediately strange to him. As Herald, he'd won no followers for himself, having left that task to Estella, and neither of them seemed noteworthy enough for the idea. They taught nothing, did what they could, and tried not to die, which was more than enough challenge on its own.
Anais informed them of what she could regarding the state of the Inquisition and the territories on their way. The Venatori army, and the Red Templar forces accompanying them, had vanished as swiftly as they'd come, taking their Elder One with them, the one Romulus had heard identify himself as Corypheus. He informed Anais of that much, and while the information troubled her, as it was troubling to anyone, she did not seem to know what to do with it. There was more important information to exchange.
The Inquisition survived the attack and would recover from its losses thanks to the efforts Romulus, Khari, Fiona, Meraad, and many others had made. The remaining Herald had led them north, through the Frostbacks, to a place quite nearly lost to time, and word of this Skyhold was quickly spreading. More support was rallying for the remarkable turn of events, beginning the process of replenishing those that were lost at Haven. But Anais had refused to believe that Romulus had perished, despite all evidence. The presence of the Venatori arriving in the Hinterlands had only spurred her on.
It was excellent time for supper as the gates of Winterwatch closed behind them, and rather than press Anais further with more questions, Romulus allowed the ache in his belly to still his tongue, for Khari's sake as well. Scouts had evidently been sent ahead, and a great deal of food was prepared for them. A place of honor at the long table in their great hall was set aside for Romulus, with Khari presented a seat at his right hand, Anais taking up the left. He did not complain; the smell of cooked meat was overwhelming, and he dug in.
There was chicken and ham, fresh loaves of bread and an abundance of fruits, dried or otherwise. And there was wine, and ale. Romulus made some effort to remain polite, but indeed, it seemed nothing he could do would upset these people, and so he ate to his heart's content, and his stomach's. There was little time for talk when his mouth was so full, and the various disciples almost constantly offered him more, every time his plate was allowed an open spot.
When at last he could stomach no more, and waved off the next person that tried to bring him more potatoes, they politely cleared the plate of food, and Romulus groaned in satisfaction. Anais stood, her smile rarely faltering. "Baths are prepared for the both of you, should you wish. Your guest awaits, Your Worship, but he has requested that you be given the opportunity to eat and wash before he troubles you." She gestured to a pair of those she commanded, two young women, standing in the doorway behind them. "Your disciples will show you to your quarters. When you're ready, please, meet me by the main gate." Romulus nodded, prompting Anais to take her leave. He glanced back at the waiting servants, and then at Khari, shrugging.
“Haven’t been clean in a month.” Khari’s observation was dry, followed with half a grin, and she returned the shrug. “And you sure smell like it.” She lazily waved her hand in front of her nose, her good humor obvious, and apparently more comfortable than she’d been through the course of the dinner. She’d eaten with nearly as much gusto as he had, but occasionally would throw glances over her shoulder at the servant that lingered there, only one compared to the several attending him, which might have been for the best.
“Guess I’ll see you later?”
"Yeah..." Romulus was still getting around to understanding the idea. He was to be shown to a bath. He couldn't say that had happened to him before. Even Chryseis didn't pamper him in that manner. Sometimes others among her house slaves would begin preparations for one while he attended to a task in Minrathous, but judging by the clothes these servants of his wore, they intended to bathe him themselves. That was an entirely different idea to wrap his head around.
Finally Romulus pushed his chair back and stood, reaching to give Khari a squeeze on the shoulder. "Enjoy it." He half-smiled. He had to assume they would be on the road come morning, if the Inquisition was still going as strong as Anais made it sound. They believed him dead... the sooner they understood that it was not so, the better. Both Heralds still lived, alive and unbroken. If anything, his experience since Haven had only hardened his resolve, and given him the necessary push to fully commit, damning the consequences.
The servants led him from the main hall and across the central little path that ran through Winterwatch. Everywhere they went the other disciples bowed deeply to him, some even kneeling, murmuring "blood of Andraste." He said nothing to them in return, not knowing what sort of thing was proper to say, not knowing what they expected him to say. He settled on just nodding to them, and it seemed to be enough.
He was led up the stairs of a building that could only be the main quarters for the majority of the disciples living here. Winterwatch was set up to be more of a defensible outpost than an actual fortress or castle, and so it seemed to Romulus that they were living in tighter conditions than was preferable. Still, he supposed they weren't doing much but sleeping in these rooms, spending the rest of their time outside. He was led past an open, empty room in which he could see the bath prepared for Khari, down a hall, and into the significantly larger area prepared for him. It was remarkable what they were able to do on such short notice. Unless Anais had suspected so strongly that he was alive, which was certainly possible as well.
What followed was a strange sequence, though none of this was normal to him. He was attended to by four women; young, though none uncomfortably so, and judging by their appearances, probably hand-picked by Anais. A warm bath had been prepared in the center of the room, a touch of Romulus's fingers into it revealing that it was near perfectly heated. One of the servants offered to take his clothes from him, so that they might be washed. The others waited patiently, wordlessly, for him to enter the bath.
He found that he did not particularly desire to refuse, and undressed.
The one that departed with his clothes soon returned, but by then Romulus was clad only in skin and dirt and caked blood, which was scrubbed away after he entered the tub. He rarely shied from physical contact, especially when offered freely, and his attendants were thankfully not overly eager in their duties. They simply cleaned him thoroughly, more effectively than he could on his own, and most strangely, they seemed to take pride in the task. A haircut and shave were offered, he accepted, but only a trim. He'd actually grown somewhat fond of the beard, and slightly longer hair.
By the end of it all, the bathtub was filthy, and Romulus felt downright strange without the layer of grime and filth covering him. After he dried himself, he was given a choice of a number of fresh clothes for the night, and settled upon a white linen shirt with loose and soft breeches. The fresh socks were perhaps the best to put on, dry and warm inside his boots, which were the one item of clothing not replaced. His weapons remained with him, though most were looted save for his crossbow and supply of bolts. Still, he was not fond of being far from them.
One of the servants led him back outside and to the main gate, where Anais was already waiting for him.
Khari was there, too, looking substantially different than she had just a short time before. Her hair was loose, still dripping a bit from the ends, but clean and already beginning to curl as it dried. She’d apparently elected not to cut hers, if it had been offered, because it still stopped at the same point, just above the base of her spine. The clothes she wore were somewhat loose, but actually seemed to have been made for a woman of approximately her actual dimensions, and she picked uncomfortably at the soft blue shirt, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She still carried her sword.
When she heard his approach, though, she glanced up, then made an exaggerated show of squinting at him. “Have we met before? You remind me of this friend I have, only you look a lot less like someone put you through a cheese grater and then shoved you into a pit.”
Romulus couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face, soon blooming into a full-blown grin back at her. "I'll take that as a compliment. You don't look half bad yourself." He'd thought that from the start, though he'd never mentioned it. She was obviously not overly concerned with attempting to impress with her appearance. Looks weren't even a shred as important as skill and tenacity, for someone in her position.
"If you'll follow me, Your Worship," Anais said, bowing her head slightly. She opened the door of the right tower next to the gate, leading them inside, and they spiraled up the staircase around the wide interior of the structure. Romulus glanced out of the arrow slit windows at the Hinterlands, seeing the last glimpse of the day's fading light in the sky, and the miles of quiet woods below them. It was a very well situated place for an outpost, defensible not only for its position against the mountain wall, but also for its height relative to the land around it, enabling their guards to see any movement for miles around.
Anais opened the door at the top of the winding staircase, leading them out onto the top of the watchtower, which was covered by an angled wooden roof that looked recently refurbished. There were four chairs situated around a low-burning firepit in the center, one of them already occupied.
Romulus didn't know who he was expecting to be waiting for him, but he found the pirate, Captain Adan Borja, the man that had been following him in Redcliffe, curious about something. He smoked a pipe and sat with lazy posture, still clad in his long overcoat. He'd set down his sword in its sheath beside the chair, and looked up upon seeing the three new arrivals. Anais swept out a hand. "Captain Adan Borja, of the Northern Sword and her fleet. He tells me you've already met, in Redcliffe."
Borja stood, slowly, using both of the armrests of his chair to push himself up. "Aye, we met. You look like you've been through a lot since then." He glanced at Khari next. "Don't think I got your name, though."
She shrugged. “Don’t blame you, since this one—” she hooked a thumb in Romulus’s direction—“was in your face and our pirate was practically growling at you.” Her face broke into a smile, then, and she offered the same hand towards him. “Khari. I’ll spare you the horror of trying to pronounce the rest.”
He clasped his hand firmly with Khari's, nodding in what was perhaps approval. "Many thanks. Never was much good with names. Come, why stand when we can sit?" He stepped around the firepit, the first to sink in a chair, and Romulus soon followed suit, taking a seat directly across from him. Anais took the one to his left, leaving the one on the right for Khari. Romulus watched Borja almost without blinking, trying to determine the man's intentions before any words were spoken. Words had a way of clouding things, when they fell from the right tongues.
"Would you like to begin, Captain, or shall I?" Anais asked, but Borja deferred with a grunt and a wave of his hand, taking another puff on his pipe, the contents within flaring slightly. "Very well..." Anais did not seem altogether pleased with the man's mannerisms, and adjusted her seat to face Romulus. "There are several important pieces of information you must know. First, and the less notable of the two, is that Captain Borja here is your father."
There was a moment of complete silence, which of course Khari broke. “Less notable? Are you joking?” She looked back and forth between Romulus and the pirate, for once considerably serious herself. Perhaps it was something residual, from their conversation on the topic, but she hardly seemed happy that it had been mentioned in so offhand a manner.
"It bears importance in the way a hill does compared to all the mountains of Thedas," Anais stated matter-of-factly. Romulus spared her a glance, but his eyes then settled back down on Borja, who seemed disinclined to look at him anymore, focusing intently on the contents of his pipe. He didn't feel particularly surprised, was the oddest part. The physical relation was not obvious. They were not mirrors of each other, but he supposed, if he looked carefully, he could see bits of himself in the man. Or was he only seeing that now that the words had been spoken?
"You knew in Redcliffe," Rom stated, making the easy jump to the fact. "Why did you say nothing of it then?"
Borja finally looked up, wincing. "You ever have any kids?" Rom made no movement of his head or lips, believing his stare answer enough. "Kids you lost when they were too young to even remember you? Kids you thought were dead, until you found out they became slaves, and lived in misery because you couldn't protect them?" He allowed an uncomfortable silence to fall over them, his fingers anxiously rubbing over themselves. "A man lives with his shame as best he can. I wanted to see my son once. I found you, you were healthy and strong. You looked like a free man to me then. You look even more so like one to me now."
"And that was all? Why are you here now, then? Why not disappear again?"
"I found your father in Redcliffe," Anais declared softly, "sometime after you had earned the loyalty of those that now call themselves your disciples. He proved instrumental in providing support for a theory I developed about you."
Borja shook his head. "I wanted to leave the father bit out, but the lady thought there'd be no way of properly explaining without it being obvious."
"Explaining what?"
"You are the only known living descendant of the Maker's Bride, Andraste," Anais stated proudly. "That, or you are Andraste reborn in the body of a man. But I believe the former to be truth. You are the first son in the line of daughters, and the Maker and Andraste have chosen you to put this world to rights."
“Well. This isn’t awkward at all.” Khari cleared her throat, scratching the back of her head with a hand, bringing a large chunk of hair forward over her shoulder when she moved her arm back down. “I mean, I guess surviving Haven was pretty miraculous, but I thought that was our stubborn refusal to roll over and die more than anything. Woulda called in the miracle a bit sooner, if I were you.” Her tone suggested a healthy degree of skepticism, or at least some vague confusion.
Romulus appeared skeptical as well, though the words did not come as easily to him. Borja's obvious lack of reaction implied that he was on board with Anais and her theory of his divinity, if that was the right word. Was it right? Romulus had always imagined himself worthy of something greater, even if this fantasy was something he'd beaten down within his core day after day, year after year, convincing himself that he would never be anything more than a slave. Only recently had he declared that he would not return to Tevinter, that he would see the Inquisition to its conclusion, and only if he lived that long would he decide what to do afterwards. But... descended from Andraste? The first son in the line of daughters?
"The first son," he repeated, frowning, looking between them. "Then my mother, she..."
"She was born Rosamara Abeita, but died Rosamara Borja," the Captain stated, setting down the pipe finally. He folded his hands in front of his face, still resting elbows upon the arm rests of the chair. "You were born with the name Tavio, but the Vints branded you Romulus."
Tavio. It felt as foreign to him as anything else, and it was just a name. Did it matter what he was called? He did not feel compelled to abandon the name Romulus if it wasn't his. He wasn't particularly fond of it, but Rom had always come across to him well, even if only a few used it. He liked it that way. "Did she know, then? My mother. Did she know who, what she was?" He couldn't help but ask the question skeptically, still unable to swallow this.
"She never told me," Borja answered, lowering his eyes for a moment. "But I believe she knew. She was drawn to a life at sea, isolated and yet always in good company. Quiet, but filled with the best kind of noise. When you were born, she... she spoke often of how she knew you were meant for something greater. I thought every parent believed that, but... I wish I'd seen it then."
From beside him, Khari dropped her hand onto his forearm, giving it a squeeze over his sleeve, but she chose not to say anything, only remind him of her presence. Even after she relaxed her grip, she didn’t lift the limb away, but let it stay there, a silent bit of solidarity, perhaps.
He needed the touch, to help anchor him from the way his mind was spinning off in a hundred directions, overwhelmed with not only the family knowledge, the family he'd never known, that had been taken from him, but the nearly absurd revelation that he was somehow descended from a woman who had become the bride of the Maker himself.
"History is repeating itself," Anais said, unable to contain her excitement, her eyes darting to the hand on his sleeve before it shot back to his face. "A slave of Tevinter, able to escape and coming into a position of power while the world is still in the wake of a Blight. Tevinter forces hunt you, declare you their mortal enemy. Before I had not known, but you have even bonded with an elven ally, perhaps even as a lover?"
Romulus's eyes snapped to Anais, suddenly uncertain. "Ah, we're not..." He quite suddenly flushed red, and Borja raised an eyebrow in what was possibly amusement, appearing for once across his grouchy features. "We haven't... I mean, I... it's not that... well." He cut himself off, finally leveling wandering eyes at Anais. "No."
“What he said.” Khari’s words were jocular, but the expression on her face was strange, hard to identify exactly. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be embarrassment, and he’d never seen her wear it before. It appeared to be caught somewhere between consternation and bewilderment, like she found the inquiry exceedingly bizarre for some reason.
“You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you, Speaker?”
Anais laughed nervously, clapping her hands together once. "Forgive me, I overstepped. I am excited is all, as many will be when they come to see the truth. And, given all the rumors that existed regarding Andraste and Shartan... but! Enough of that. Rumors they shall remain."
"In Redcliffe," Romulus said, in Borja's direction, eager to change the subject, "you asked if I knew what these meant." He touched one of the lines tattooed upon his face. He left unsaid that he didn't know, for why should he? These things were obscure, especially in Tevinter, especially for a slave, who had no resource to ask these questions, and no one that cared to answer.
"Family markings," Borja explained. "Most know the meanings behind their own. Rosamara, though, she said she didn't know, she'd long since left her own family behind when we met, but when we had you... she wanted them passed on."
"The markings are unfamiliar to me as well," Anais cut in, "but the Captain's words do not dispute the theory. There is much that is unknown of what became of Andraste's bloodline. I had the honor of studying under Sister Galenna of the Augustan Order after her departure. Few had learned so extensively of the details of Andraste's history, and what few, hard to find facts there were regarding those that followed in her bloodline. The widely known pair is of course Vivial and Regulan, going into exile, Andraste herself concealing them for their protection."
"How did my mother die?" Romulus asked, aware that the question had been burning within him not only for a few moments, but for every year of his life separated from her. "What happened?"
Borja swallowed, obviously uncomfortable with the retelling. "We were young. I had no ship yet, no crew, only aspirations. Rosamara comes to me one day, and says we must leave, we must smuggle ourselves from the country. I tried to pry, but she would not tell me. Said it was safer for me not to know. And... because I loved her, I agreed. Called in one of the few favors I was owed, and we were smuggled out of Llomerryn by a friend of mine, man named Conrado. Few days out, we were caught in a storm... and attacked." He gazed into the fire, biting his lower lip for a moment.
"I don't know who attacked us, or how they found us. Best guess is Conrado sold us out. I was caught unarmed, took a blade to the side, fell from the ship. I should've drowned, but the storm carried me back to shore. I thought everyone was dead." His eyes came up to meet with Romulus, and the firelight gleamed inside them. "You believe that, don't you? I thought you dead, until I heard of the Herald of Andraste, one of two, a man with a marked face. Marks I'd never forget."
Romulus likely didn't need to answer that either, but he nodded, shakily. The history lined up, it was hard to refute. His being descended from Andraste was still so hard to acknowledge, but... the idea that it might be true was far easier to grasp now than it had been at the start.
"What do you think?" he asked Khari. He honestly didn't know how closely she still held to her own people's gods, if at all. She seemed more likely to be skeptical than any of those present, but he felt that might be needed at the moment. Someone to keep him grounded in this. And she'd always been there to pull him up when he'd been sinking before. She could be there now to tug on his feet, and prevent him from flying away.
Khari rubbed at the bridge of her nose with an index finger. “I think this is all a little over my head.” She shrugged, and sighed gustily. “But you know, and maybe this isn’t the smartest thing to say in present company, but…” she flicked a glance to Anais, half-smiling almost sheepishly before returning her eyes to his. “This isn’t the thing that decides who you are, Rom. Whether you’re descended from Andraste or not, whether you believe it or accept it or don’t—that’s not what’s going to make the difference.” She pursed her lips and let her eyes fall half-closed, clearly parsing her words more carefully than usual.
“You decided yourself that you were going back to the Inquisition after Haven—the fact that you were once a slave didn’t dictate that for you. This shouldn’t dictate anything, either.” The smile returned, ruefully this time. “If you’re going do something, do it as yourself, because you want to. That seems like plenty of reason to me.”
Romulus found her words to be reasonable, just what they needed to be. Others may have criticized her, an elf aspiring to be a chevalier, for just the opposite, but he had always found that she rarely had her head in the clouds. And she was right about this. He was still the same person after this conversation, only with more experiences thrown on top to better inform him of who that person was. It did not erase anything he'd done in the past, even if he wanted it to. It did not change any of it. And for the moment, it did not change his plans.
"We'll set out to rejoin the Inquisition tomorrow at first light, then." He stated, confident that Anais would accept any wish of his as an order. "There's a lot of ground to cover. And a lot the Inquisition needs to know about, not only about me." He and Khari had knowledge of the enemy that could prove valuable, to start.
"It's not something to be taken in over one night," Borja agreed. Anais nodded as well.
"Very good, then," she said. "We make for Skyhold come the morning. Come, I will show you to your quarters. You are no doubt quite exhausted. It has been a long day."
She stood, and headed for the door. Before Romulus followed suit, he made sure to place a hand over Khari's, and nod. It would be all she needed to know he was thankful.
The words hung in Romulus's mind for the entire walk back to Winterwatch, the fortress occupied by his Disciples. That they had named themselves such was immediately strange to him. As Herald, he'd won no followers for himself, having left that task to Estella, and neither of them seemed noteworthy enough for the idea. They taught nothing, did what they could, and tried not to die, which was more than enough challenge on its own.
Anais informed them of what she could regarding the state of the Inquisition and the territories on their way. The Venatori army, and the Red Templar forces accompanying them, had vanished as swiftly as they'd come, taking their Elder One with them, the one Romulus had heard identify himself as Corypheus. He informed Anais of that much, and while the information troubled her, as it was troubling to anyone, she did not seem to know what to do with it. There was more important information to exchange.
The Inquisition survived the attack and would recover from its losses thanks to the efforts Romulus, Khari, Fiona, Meraad, and many others had made. The remaining Herald had led them north, through the Frostbacks, to a place quite nearly lost to time, and word of this Skyhold was quickly spreading. More support was rallying for the remarkable turn of events, beginning the process of replenishing those that were lost at Haven. But Anais had refused to believe that Romulus had perished, despite all evidence. The presence of the Venatori arriving in the Hinterlands had only spurred her on.
It was excellent time for supper as the gates of Winterwatch closed behind them, and rather than press Anais further with more questions, Romulus allowed the ache in his belly to still his tongue, for Khari's sake as well. Scouts had evidently been sent ahead, and a great deal of food was prepared for them. A place of honor at the long table in their great hall was set aside for Romulus, with Khari presented a seat at his right hand, Anais taking up the left. He did not complain; the smell of cooked meat was overwhelming, and he dug in.
There was chicken and ham, fresh loaves of bread and an abundance of fruits, dried or otherwise. And there was wine, and ale. Romulus made some effort to remain polite, but indeed, it seemed nothing he could do would upset these people, and so he ate to his heart's content, and his stomach's. There was little time for talk when his mouth was so full, and the various disciples almost constantly offered him more, every time his plate was allowed an open spot.
When at last he could stomach no more, and waved off the next person that tried to bring him more potatoes, they politely cleared the plate of food, and Romulus groaned in satisfaction. Anais stood, her smile rarely faltering. "Baths are prepared for the both of you, should you wish. Your guest awaits, Your Worship, but he has requested that you be given the opportunity to eat and wash before he troubles you." She gestured to a pair of those she commanded, two young women, standing in the doorway behind them. "Your disciples will show you to your quarters. When you're ready, please, meet me by the main gate." Romulus nodded, prompting Anais to take her leave. He glanced back at the waiting servants, and then at Khari, shrugging.
“Haven’t been clean in a month.” Khari’s observation was dry, followed with half a grin, and she returned the shrug. “And you sure smell like it.” She lazily waved her hand in front of her nose, her good humor obvious, and apparently more comfortable than she’d been through the course of the dinner. She’d eaten with nearly as much gusto as he had, but occasionally would throw glances over her shoulder at the servant that lingered there, only one compared to the several attending him, which might have been for the best.
“Guess I’ll see you later?”
"Yeah..." Romulus was still getting around to understanding the idea. He was to be shown to a bath. He couldn't say that had happened to him before. Even Chryseis didn't pamper him in that manner. Sometimes others among her house slaves would begin preparations for one while he attended to a task in Minrathous, but judging by the clothes these servants of his wore, they intended to bathe him themselves. That was an entirely different idea to wrap his head around.
Finally Romulus pushed his chair back and stood, reaching to give Khari a squeeze on the shoulder. "Enjoy it." He half-smiled. He had to assume they would be on the road come morning, if the Inquisition was still going as strong as Anais made it sound. They believed him dead... the sooner they understood that it was not so, the better. Both Heralds still lived, alive and unbroken. If anything, his experience since Haven had only hardened his resolve, and given him the necessary push to fully commit, damning the consequences.
The servants led him from the main hall and across the central little path that ran through Winterwatch. Everywhere they went the other disciples bowed deeply to him, some even kneeling, murmuring "blood of Andraste." He said nothing to them in return, not knowing what sort of thing was proper to say, not knowing what they expected him to say. He settled on just nodding to them, and it seemed to be enough.
He was led up the stairs of a building that could only be the main quarters for the majority of the disciples living here. Winterwatch was set up to be more of a defensible outpost than an actual fortress or castle, and so it seemed to Romulus that they were living in tighter conditions than was preferable. Still, he supposed they weren't doing much but sleeping in these rooms, spending the rest of their time outside. He was led past an open, empty room in which he could see the bath prepared for Khari, down a hall, and into the significantly larger area prepared for him. It was remarkable what they were able to do on such short notice. Unless Anais had suspected so strongly that he was alive, which was certainly possible as well.
What followed was a strange sequence, though none of this was normal to him. He was attended to by four women; young, though none uncomfortably so, and judging by their appearances, probably hand-picked by Anais. A warm bath had been prepared in the center of the room, a touch of Romulus's fingers into it revealing that it was near perfectly heated. One of the servants offered to take his clothes from him, so that they might be washed. The others waited patiently, wordlessly, for him to enter the bath.
He found that he did not particularly desire to refuse, and undressed.
The one that departed with his clothes soon returned, but by then Romulus was clad only in skin and dirt and caked blood, which was scrubbed away after he entered the tub. He rarely shied from physical contact, especially when offered freely, and his attendants were thankfully not overly eager in their duties. They simply cleaned him thoroughly, more effectively than he could on his own, and most strangely, they seemed to take pride in the task. A haircut and shave were offered, he accepted, but only a trim. He'd actually grown somewhat fond of the beard, and slightly longer hair.
By the end of it all, the bathtub was filthy, and Romulus felt downright strange without the layer of grime and filth covering him. After he dried himself, he was given a choice of a number of fresh clothes for the night, and settled upon a white linen shirt with loose and soft breeches. The fresh socks were perhaps the best to put on, dry and warm inside his boots, which were the one item of clothing not replaced. His weapons remained with him, though most were looted save for his crossbow and supply of bolts. Still, he was not fond of being far from them.
One of the servants led him back outside and to the main gate, where Anais was already waiting for him.
Khari was there, too, looking substantially different than she had just a short time before. Her hair was loose, still dripping a bit from the ends, but clean and already beginning to curl as it dried. She’d apparently elected not to cut hers, if it had been offered, because it still stopped at the same point, just above the base of her spine. The clothes she wore were somewhat loose, but actually seemed to have been made for a woman of approximately her actual dimensions, and she picked uncomfortably at the soft blue shirt, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She still carried her sword.
When she heard his approach, though, she glanced up, then made an exaggerated show of squinting at him. “Have we met before? You remind me of this friend I have, only you look a lot less like someone put you through a cheese grater and then shoved you into a pit.”
Romulus couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face, soon blooming into a full-blown grin back at her. "I'll take that as a compliment. You don't look half bad yourself." He'd thought that from the start, though he'd never mentioned it. She was obviously not overly concerned with attempting to impress with her appearance. Looks weren't even a shred as important as skill and tenacity, for someone in her position.
"If you'll follow me, Your Worship," Anais said, bowing her head slightly. She opened the door of the right tower next to the gate, leading them inside, and they spiraled up the staircase around the wide interior of the structure. Romulus glanced out of the arrow slit windows at the Hinterlands, seeing the last glimpse of the day's fading light in the sky, and the miles of quiet woods below them. It was a very well situated place for an outpost, defensible not only for its position against the mountain wall, but also for its height relative to the land around it, enabling their guards to see any movement for miles around.
Anais opened the door at the top of the winding staircase, leading them out onto the top of the watchtower, which was covered by an angled wooden roof that looked recently refurbished. There were four chairs situated around a low-burning firepit in the center, one of them already occupied.
Romulus didn't know who he was expecting to be waiting for him, but he found the pirate, Captain Adan Borja, the man that had been following him in Redcliffe, curious about something. He smoked a pipe and sat with lazy posture, still clad in his long overcoat. He'd set down his sword in its sheath beside the chair, and looked up upon seeing the three new arrivals. Anais swept out a hand. "Captain Adan Borja, of the Northern Sword and her fleet. He tells me you've already met, in Redcliffe."
Borja stood, slowly, using both of the armrests of his chair to push himself up. "Aye, we met. You look like you've been through a lot since then." He glanced at Khari next. "Don't think I got your name, though."
She shrugged. “Don’t blame you, since this one—” she hooked a thumb in Romulus’s direction—“was in your face and our pirate was practically growling at you.” Her face broke into a smile, then, and she offered the same hand towards him. “Khari. I’ll spare you the horror of trying to pronounce the rest.”
He clasped his hand firmly with Khari's, nodding in what was perhaps approval. "Many thanks. Never was much good with names. Come, why stand when we can sit?" He stepped around the firepit, the first to sink in a chair, and Romulus soon followed suit, taking a seat directly across from him. Anais took the one to his left, leaving the one on the right for Khari. Romulus watched Borja almost without blinking, trying to determine the man's intentions before any words were spoken. Words had a way of clouding things, when they fell from the right tongues.
"Would you like to begin, Captain, or shall I?" Anais asked, but Borja deferred with a grunt and a wave of his hand, taking another puff on his pipe, the contents within flaring slightly. "Very well..." Anais did not seem altogether pleased with the man's mannerisms, and adjusted her seat to face Romulus. "There are several important pieces of information you must know. First, and the less notable of the two, is that Captain Borja here is your father."
There was a moment of complete silence, which of course Khari broke. “Less notable? Are you joking?” She looked back and forth between Romulus and the pirate, for once considerably serious herself. Perhaps it was something residual, from their conversation on the topic, but she hardly seemed happy that it had been mentioned in so offhand a manner.
"It bears importance in the way a hill does compared to all the mountains of Thedas," Anais stated matter-of-factly. Romulus spared her a glance, but his eyes then settled back down on Borja, who seemed disinclined to look at him anymore, focusing intently on the contents of his pipe. He didn't feel particularly surprised, was the oddest part. The physical relation was not obvious. They were not mirrors of each other, but he supposed, if he looked carefully, he could see bits of himself in the man. Or was he only seeing that now that the words had been spoken?
"You knew in Redcliffe," Rom stated, making the easy jump to the fact. "Why did you say nothing of it then?"
Borja finally looked up, wincing. "You ever have any kids?" Rom made no movement of his head or lips, believing his stare answer enough. "Kids you lost when they were too young to even remember you? Kids you thought were dead, until you found out they became slaves, and lived in misery because you couldn't protect them?" He allowed an uncomfortable silence to fall over them, his fingers anxiously rubbing over themselves. "A man lives with his shame as best he can. I wanted to see my son once. I found you, you were healthy and strong. You looked like a free man to me then. You look even more so like one to me now."
"And that was all? Why are you here now, then? Why not disappear again?"
"I found your father in Redcliffe," Anais declared softly, "sometime after you had earned the loyalty of those that now call themselves your disciples. He proved instrumental in providing support for a theory I developed about you."
Borja shook his head. "I wanted to leave the father bit out, but the lady thought there'd be no way of properly explaining without it being obvious."
"Explaining what?"
"You are the only known living descendant of the Maker's Bride, Andraste," Anais stated proudly. "That, or you are Andraste reborn in the body of a man. But I believe the former to be truth. You are the first son in the line of daughters, and the Maker and Andraste have chosen you to put this world to rights."
“Well. This isn’t awkward at all.” Khari cleared her throat, scratching the back of her head with a hand, bringing a large chunk of hair forward over her shoulder when she moved her arm back down. “I mean, I guess surviving Haven was pretty miraculous, but I thought that was our stubborn refusal to roll over and die more than anything. Woulda called in the miracle a bit sooner, if I were you.” Her tone suggested a healthy degree of skepticism, or at least some vague confusion.
Romulus appeared skeptical as well, though the words did not come as easily to him. Borja's obvious lack of reaction implied that he was on board with Anais and her theory of his divinity, if that was the right word. Was it right? Romulus had always imagined himself worthy of something greater, even if this fantasy was something he'd beaten down within his core day after day, year after year, convincing himself that he would never be anything more than a slave. Only recently had he declared that he would not return to Tevinter, that he would see the Inquisition to its conclusion, and only if he lived that long would he decide what to do afterwards. But... descended from Andraste? The first son in the line of daughters?
"The first son," he repeated, frowning, looking between them. "Then my mother, she..."
"She was born Rosamara Abeita, but died Rosamara Borja," the Captain stated, setting down the pipe finally. He folded his hands in front of his face, still resting elbows upon the arm rests of the chair. "You were born with the name Tavio, but the Vints branded you Romulus."
Tavio. It felt as foreign to him as anything else, and it was just a name. Did it matter what he was called? He did not feel compelled to abandon the name Romulus if it wasn't his. He wasn't particularly fond of it, but Rom had always come across to him well, even if only a few used it. He liked it that way. "Did she know, then? My mother. Did she know who, what she was?" He couldn't help but ask the question skeptically, still unable to swallow this.
"She never told me," Borja answered, lowering his eyes for a moment. "But I believe she knew. She was drawn to a life at sea, isolated and yet always in good company. Quiet, but filled with the best kind of noise. When you were born, she... she spoke often of how she knew you were meant for something greater. I thought every parent believed that, but... I wish I'd seen it then."
From beside him, Khari dropped her hand onto his forearm, giving it a squeeze over his sleeve, but she chose not to say anything, only remind him of her presence. Even after she relaxed her grip, she didn’t lift the limb away, but let it stay there, a silent bit of solidarity, perhaps.
He needed the touch, to help anchor him from the way his mind was spinning off in a hundred directions, overwhelmed with not only the family knowledge, the family he'd never known, that had been taken from him, but the nearly absurd revelation that he was somehow descended from a woman who had become the bride of the Maker himself.
"History is repeating itself," Anais said, unable to contain her excitement, her eyes darting to the hand on his sleeve before it shot back to his face. "A slave of Tevinter, able to escape and coming into a position of power while the world is still in the wake of a Blight. Tevinter forces hunt you, declare you their mortal enemy. Before I had not known, but you have even bonded with an elven ally, perhaps even as a lover?"
Romulus's eyes snapped to Anais, suddenly uncertain. "Ah, we're not..." He quite suddenly flushed red, and Borja raised an eyebrow in what was possibly amusement, appearing for once across his grouchy features. "We haven't... I mean, I... it's not that... well." He cut himself off, finally leveling wandering eyes at Anais. "No."
“What he said.” Khari’s words were jocular, but the expression on her face was strange, hard to identify exactly. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be embarrassment, and he’d never seen her wear it before. It appeared to be caught somewhere between consternation and bewilderment, like she found the inquiry exceedingly bizarre for some reason.
“You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you, Speaker?”
Anais laughed nervously, clapping her hands together once. "Forgive me, I overstepped. I am excited is all, as many will be when they come to see the truth. And, given all the rumors that existed regarding Andraste and Shartan... but! Enough of that. Rumors they shall remain."
"In Redcliffe," Romulus said, in Borja's direction, eager to change the subject, "you asked if I knew what these meant." He touched one of the lines tattooed upon his face. He left unsaid that he didn't know, for why should he? These things were obscure, especially in Tevinter, especially for a slave, who had no resource to ask these questions, and no one that cared to answer.
"Family markings," Borja explained. "Most know the meanings behind their own. Rosamara, though, she said she didn't know, she'd long since left her own family behind when we met, but when we had you... she wanted them passed on."
"The markings are unfamiliar to me as well," Anais cut in, "but the Captain's words do not dispute the theory. There is much that is unknown of what became of Andraste's bloodline. I had the honor of studying under Sister Galenna of the Augustan Order after her departure. Few had learned so extensively of the details of Andraste's history, and what few, hard to find facts there were regarding those that followed in her bloodline. The widely known pair is of course Vivial and Regulan, going into exile, Andraste herself concealing them for their protection."
"How did my mother die?" Romulus asked, aware that the question had been burning within him not only for a few moments, but for every year of his life separated from her. "What happened?"
Borja swallowed, obviously uncomfortable with the retelling. "We were young. I had no ship yet, no crew, only aspirations. Rosamara comes to me one day, and says we must leave, we must smuggle ourselves from the country. I tried to pry, but she would not tell me. Said it was safer for me not to know. And... because I loved her, I agreed. Called in one of the few favors I was owed, and we were smuggled out of Llomerryn by a friend of mine, man named Conrado. Few days out, we were caught in a storm... and attacked." He gazed into the fire, biting his lower lip for a moment.
"I don't know who attacked us, or how they found us. Best guess is Conrado sold us out. I was caught unarmed, took a blade to the side, fell from the ship. I should've drowned, but the storm carried me back to shore. I thought everyone was dead." His eyes came up to meet with Romulus, and the firelight gleamed inside them. "You believe that, don't you? I thought you dead, until I heard of the Herald of Andraste, one of two, a man with a marked face. Marks I'd never forget."
Romulus likely didn't need to answer that either, but he nodded, shakily. The history lined up, it was hard to refute. His being descended from Andraste was still so hard to acknowledge, but... the idea that it might be true was far easier to grasp now than it had been at the start.
"What do you think?" he asked Khari. He honestly didn't know how closely she still held to her own people's gods, if at all. She seemed more likely to be skeptical than any of those present, but he felt that might be needed at the moment. Someone to keep him grounded in this. And she'd always been there to pull him up when he'd been sinking before. She could be there now to tug on his feet, and prevent him from flying away.
Khari rubbed at the bridge of her nose with an index finger. “I think this is all a little over my head.” She shrugged, and sighed gustily. “But you know, and maybe this isn’t the smartest thing to say in present company, but…” she flicked a glance to Anais, half-smiling almost sheepishly before returning her eyes to his. “This isn’t the thing that decides who you are, Rom. Whether you’re descended from Andraste or not, whether you believe it or accept it or don’t—that’s not what’s going to make the difference.” She pursed her lips and let her eyes fall half-closed, clearly parsing her words more carefully than usual.
“You decided yourself that you were going back to the Inquisition after Haven—the fact that you were once a slave didn’t dictate that for you. This shouldn’t dictate anything, either.” The smile returned, ruefully this time. “If you’re going do something, do it as yourself, because you want to. That seems like plenty of reason to me.”
Romulus found her words to be reasonable, just what they needed to be. Others may have criticized her, an elf aspiring to be a chevalier, for just the opposite, but he had always found that she rarely had her head in the clouds. And she was right about this. He was still the same person after this conversation, only with more experiences thrown on top to better inform him of who that person was. It did not erase anything he'd done in the past, even if he wanted it to. It did not change any of it. And for the moment, it did not change his plans.
"We'll set out to rejoin the Inquisition tomorrow at first light, then." He stated, confident that Anais would accept any wish of his as an order. "There's a lot of ground to cover. And a lot the Inquisition needs to know about, not only about me." He and Khari had knowledge of the enemy that could prove valuable, to start.
"It's not something to be taken in over one night," Borja agreed. Anais nodded as well.
"Very good, then," she said. "We make for Skyhold come the morning. Come, I will show you to your quarters. You are no doubt quite exhausted. It has been a long day."
She stood, and headed for the door. Before Romulus followed suit, he made sure to place a hand over Khari's, and nod. It would be all she needed to know he was thankful.