AN: Current teasing Varric nickname choice for Percy is 'Princess'

Herald of Destruction

Chapter 9

-Varric-

Varric didn't even bother turning when he heard the sharp whistle echo off the buildings and stone cliffs, there were so many people here and even a few horses so he wouldn't be surprised at hearing someone use a whistle to get attention. The Seeker shouting in confused anger at the kid though, that made him turn and tune out a local hunter complaining about lack of food and a scout grumbling about caches left by the two fighting forces. Spinning, Varric saw Percy and Cerridwen atop that Maker damned flying horse, soaring high over the crowd and going south while everyone who hadn't rode down with them gaped and gasped.

"Where is he going?!" Varric gaped as Cassandra chased for a half dozen steps before stopping as Percy disappeared from sight, Blackjack able to fly faster than they could run. Looking to where the kid had been only a moment before, he saw an elven man on his knees, looking awestruck at where Percy had flown off to.

"What did you tell him?" hearing Cassandra's 'angry Seeker' voice as she approached the kneeling man, although she honestly didn't seem to have any other voice, Varric hurried over to hopefully avoid the woman getting as grumpy as she had when questioning him back in Kirkwall.

"I begged for the Herald's aide." The man breathed, eyes remaining locked on the horizon, "My wife is dying and needs a potion with our son. Nobody else would help an elf by going to the cult in the south."

"Cult?" Varric paled, nine times out of ten cults would try to cut out your liver for a snack because they were bored.

"A group who have begun to worship the breach, believing it is a sign of the Maker taking their chosen, them, to come to their side." The man elaborated as Varric slapped a palm to his face, positive this would end up at the other one out of ten cult scenarios where they began worshipping whoever came across them. Poor kid probably didn't realize exactly he was getting in for.

"At least he has Cerridwen, Hudson, and a bloody flying horse with him Seeker." Varric comforted her, wishing Chuckles was here to do it for him.

"Yes, two teenagers, a puppy, and a horse are a perfect group to deal with who knows how many bandits, lunatics, and wild beasts they'll come across!" Cassandra rounded on him irately, the elvhen man wisely taking the opportunity to slip away, "Oh, and let's not forget the demons now!"

"I'm not saying we don't go after them." Varric gave her a sharp frown, "I'm saying they aren't alone and they're all skilled. You've seen how powerful the kid is, I have faith they'll be find by the time we get to him. Plus, he's smart enough to get on his horse and fly away if needed." He hoped. Cursing, but not arguing his point, Seeker ran off to get their horses to go after Percy, leaving Corporal Vale in charge again. Varric was proud of the Kid for not hesitating to help those in need, Maker knows Hawke would have done the same damn thing, but he didn't envy the kid's upcoming lecture courtesy of one Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast.

-Cerridwen-

Holding on tight to Perseus, Cerridwen couldn't hold back the excited rushing of her heart as they flew over the verdant green hills of the Hinterlands. "You fly like this every day?" she asked, shouting over the whipping wind to be heard. To be blessed with such a gift from the lady of the skies, Perseus was truly lucky.

"When I can." Perseus glanced over his shoulder to smile at her, his eyes gleaming mirthfully, showing the potential for as much mischief as Imhar the Clever, "My family were tied to our sea god Neptune, who formed horses from sea foam as a gift in his attempts to woo a woman so I've always worked well with them. I can even understand what they say thanks to my family magic." That was something Cerridwen remembered after a moment, Perseus having shared many things that first night as they bonded over the fire in his cabin, sharing tales of their people, their cultures, and their gods. It felt good to be in such confidences with the one chosen to heal the lady of the skies, especially as she knew that he hadn't shared many of those things with others back at Haven.

Ahead, they could see the old fort the man had mentioned rising imperiously over the hills, various people walking the ramparts while a woman stood outside the closed portcullis, her back as rigid and unyielding as the ancient oak. "Let's avoid them panicking, land outside the gate buddy." Perseus' patted Blackjack's neck as the majestic steed, a Pegasus she recalled, landed, moving from flight to canter with nary a wasted movement.

"You, I know you." The woman narrowed her eyes at Perseus' glowing palm as they approached, her friend helping Cerridwen off of Blackjack as horses and saddles were still something she was having to grow accustomed to, "I am Speaker Alias and you, you are the one they call the Herald of Andraste for what you did at Haven. But are you? The Maker has not told me." She could feel her friend's frustration at those words, knowing his disdain for being called that title, one related to a god he did not worship. Cerridwen had seen many at Haven be indignant at Perseus' lack of awe at the title bestowed upon him, but then again many of those same people had called her a faithless heathen, regardless of that fact that she worshiped her gods with just as much conviction as they did their Maker if not more.

"I don't know anything about the Maker, about Andraste, or this Herald business." Percy grit out, likely working to reign in his temper even if only to appease the warrior woman, Seeker Pentaghast "All I know is that I can clothes the rifts with this mark. But that doesn't matter, I came here to find someone named Hyndel, his mother is sick and needs a potion he makes so she doesn't die!"

"This bastion is only for the faithful." The woman held her head high, "But you may prove yourself and your place in service to the Maker in the eyes of all those here. Inside our keep is a Rift, show that it will bend to your will, the will of the Maker. Show me the power you wield."

"Raaargh!" Perseus' patience had run out, "Fine! I'll seal your damn rift. Cerridwen, get the potion while I do that so we can get it back as soon as possible." The woman, Speaker Alias, was already gesturing for the thick wooden portcullis to be raised but the gate was clearly moving too slow for Perseus. Cerridwen saw his blade, the sword Vigilance that was apparently quite famed in Ferelden, be drawn from its scabbard with a flash as he gave two cuts through the aged and weakened wood, finishing it off with a sturdy kick that shattered the worn timbers apart, stalking through and towards the familiar glow of a rift like Hakkon Wintersbreath himself.

Moving quickly, Cerridwen moved through the various cultists who were gaping in awe at the shattered gate that, even if it was old and begging to fail, was still destroyed by a single man too young to even grow his first beard. Finding a group of elves, Cerridwen rushed over, "Hyndel, I need to find the one named Hyndel!" she ignored the sounds of Perseus' battle cried from where the rifts were, and the sounds of demons screeching. He trusted her to find the potion and believed he could handle the rift. She would place her faith in him in return.

"I am Hyndel, what may I do for you?" the somewhat portly elf asked her, glancing curiously over to where the sound of Perseus slaughtering demons was coming from.

"Hyndel, it's your mother! She can't breathe and your father sent me and Perseus for a potion." Ceridwen's tone made sure to convey the seriousness of the matter although given the man's paling visage he understood well enough on his own.

"What?!" the man grasped her shoulders, eyes wide with fear "She was fine when I left! She hasn't had the breathing trouble in…Maker damn it, that doesn't matter! Come with me!" Hyndel ran inside the nearest building with his fellow elves as he began gathering ingredients in what looked like a small potion laboratory, the other robed elves helping him as he directed. "Here." The potion was thrust into her hands, the speed of its creation showing the experience of its creator, "Hurry!"

"I will!" Cerridwen shouted over her shoulder, clutching the bottle close as she ran to where Perseus was fighting, wanting to see if she could help. It was evidently not needed as Perseus carved through the demons and shades, most being weak spirits and terror demons whose frail bodies couldn't stand up to the blows of their opponent. The emerald ropes that lashed out from Perseus' mark were beautiful to see, something she had yet to witness, and they took her breath away. The emerald ropes shoot forward, piercing into the rift as their glow grew brighter, deepening the shadows on his face as Perseus scowled, eyes narrowed in concentration as he forced his will upon this injury to the Lady and made it close. Perseus didn't wait to admire his work as the rift closed, spinning around to run back over to Cerridwen and an eagerly waiting Blackjack.

"Maker's tears, I was a fool to have doubted you." Speaker Anias breathed in awe as Perseus climbed into the saddle, pulling Cerridwen with him, "It is clear that you speak for the Maker's will. How many we serve you?"

"I aide the Inquisition." Perseus' face was hard, but he saw the opportunity and chose not to waste it "Your assistance would also aide it greatly! Help the refugees, gather information, and spread word of the Inquisition! The breach is not a blessing or message of the Maker, it is an attack on all life! Done by hands in this world! The Inquisition's war is against the breach and those who would use its power to destroy." With a crack of his reigns, Perseus urged Blackjack skyward, heading back to the crossroads, Potion safely in hand.

"Perseus, you invoked the name of the Chantry's Maker, why? I thought you held no faith towards Andraste and her Maker" Cerridwen asked as they flew over the land.

"I don't know anything about their Maker, but these people believed in him." Perseus shrugged, "And all I did was tell them that the Breach wasn't a blessing from their god to be worshiped. It isn't my fault if they read more into it than that. And call me Percy, please. I prefer my friends call me by that name." smiling at Perseus, Percy, considering her a friend too, Cerridwen held on tight as they flew back, potion in hand and newfound allies at their back.