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What Pride Had Wrought.

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Matthias Lavellan made a fine Inquisitor. He was a talented archer and had a knack for long, inspirtational speeches. When Milessa Lavellan learned that her dear older brother had survived the blast at the Conclave, she was overjoyed. They were close, very close. Any memory she had of her childhood, Mat was sure to be featured in it. He was humble, kind, funny, and quite easy on the eyes. If it weren't for the 5 year age gap, the siblings would definitley pass as twins. All elves shared the same small body builds. Matthias had been a few inches taller than Milessa, but they both had inherited their mother's ash blonde curls and striking sea green irises. The brother had the tattoos of their clan, a set of swirls going over his left eye. Milessa's tattoos arched delicately under her eyes, like the naked branches of trees. Matthias was sent to the Conclave as a spy of sorts. He was meant to lurk about and find out the fate of the Mages and Templars and what it would mean for the rest of Thedas. Milessa wanted to go with him so badly, but her brother refused. He worried too much. News of the explosion caused her heart to break into a million pieces and she had locked herself away from the rest of their people. How could he just die and leave her there all alone? There weren't many others her age, and they all steered clear of her when her mage abilities surfaced. Yes, she was indeed lonely. A messenger soon found his way to their little clan and he informed them that, yes, Matthias was very alive. He was also the only suspect behind the destruction of the Conclave and the death of Divine Justinia. As a side note, he had also been named the Herald of Andraste and was the only one capable of closing the Breach. It didn't take long for Milessa to pack her things and set off to find her brother. Much had changed in that time. She was forced to take a completely different path than she was originally on. Haven had been destroyed. The people of Haven found sanctuary in a fort called Skyhold. How in the bloody hell was she supposed to make it all the way there?

Milessa was a young girl of 24 who had rarely left her clan, so of course she didn't really know what she was doing or where she was going. Redcliffe in the Hinterlands proved to be the absolute best place to rest and refocus. There were many mages dotted around the village. It made her feel welcomed and comfortable. She took the opportunity to ask questions, figure out where she was headed. A kind man had agreed to help her after she herded his fiery coated ram back to the village. He managed to scribble up a map for her to follow. With a generous thank you, she was off again.

The younger Lavellan had not expected the cold when she travelled to Skyhold. She had been cursing every elven god she knew before she stumbled onto the rather warm grass of the fort. It was glorious. All imposing and large and she knew that her brother was the man in charge here. He'd be so happy to see her, she just knew it. No time wasted, she bounced up the steps into the fortress and sea green found its match. Matthias was seated on a throne at the end of the walkway. He looked dashing in his formal wear, ash blonde curling against his temples and brushing his sharp cheekbones. That's one other thing that was different about them. Matthias was all sharp and jagged edges, a true fairytale prince, while Milessa was a simple and plain maiden in some unrelated village. How she yearned to have the confidence and attractiveness of her brother. The Inquisitor stared her down as she quickly walked up to him, cheeks aching as a result of the huge smile on her face. He didn't return it. Her heart faltered in its beating pattern.

"I thought the clan was wiped out," His words were casual, like he was making mere small talk with an old friend. Milessa's smile immediately disappeared and her eyes widened. Wiped out? Had she been travelling around like a lost hound for so long that her family had been attacked? Matthias waved a hand and he reclined back in his throne, "No matter, what's done is done, what are you doing here? How did you even get here?" Now, she was pouting. A crease formed between her brows. Was he serious right now? No hello? No 'I missed you's? Something stirred in her chest. Something like anger and betrayal. Not pleased with her silence, Mat shook his head and stood up. For a moment, she thought he'd hug her, but he simply pushed passed her and walked off to the War Room. When did he change? Why did he change? He used to be all laughter and jokes, like a typical older brother. Where had that all went? Milessa turned towards where her brother went, tears slowly trailing down her pale cheeks. It took her up until a second ago to realize his eyes were darker, hints of brown flecking the iris. It reminded her of dead grass.

"All that work you did, all that love you had, and he treated you like dirt," The deep baritone of Corypheus echoed around in her mind and she frowned. It had been a few weeks ago when she finally fled from Skyhold, unable to stand her brother's coldness any longer. She had bumped into Calpernia during this and the woman immediately brought her to the 'Elder One'. Corypheus, despite being all tall and imposing, was actually fairly pleasant to be around. He did not appreciate the little jokes and snarky remarks she made, but he did enjoy watching her grow as a mage under Calpernia's guidance. She proved to have much potential. Milessa was fully aware of the goals that they wished to reach. Once upon a time, she would have stayed with her brother, would have never agreed to such darkness, but after her brother had spun on her and called her incompetent and told her that she should have stayed put in the village, she could care less what happened to him and his Inquistion. For too long, she put up with his snide remarks about her still learning basic mage skills. Too long, she listened to him tut at her and call her pathetic when she smiled at the blonde Commander. The others noticed his behavior, but none spoke up. His response to the ambassador asking of the state of their clan was what really broke her, however; "I don't rightly care, it's nothing of importance to me."

He watched her, eyes wide. His sweet little sister stood at the left side of Corypheus while Calpernia took his right. Since when did she learn to carry herself with such pride, like the world deserved to be under her small foot? The grip on his bow tightened. He can hear Dorian say something but the words don't really register. Cassandra is shouting, Cole is sighing. Corypheus and Calpernia both turn away, leaving Milessa in the path of Matthias and his party. They had tracked the trio down to the Arbor Wilds, hoping to stop their search of the eluvians and Well of Sorrows. Mat had been confident in their victory up until the point where he had realized the mysterious third to Corypheus' plan was indeed his sister. His Milessa. Memories of the two playing in the grass flashed across his mind. Next to him, Cole tenses.

"Echoes of his words constantly belittle her, break her, kill her. She's been fighting so long, pushing it away, she's so broken. Held together in red and dark," Cole continues mumbling. Milessa directs her cold gaze to Matthias. Weren't her irises a different color? Of course they were, they shared the same hue. But then, why did her eyes remind him of cold, hard ice? He wants to speak to her, to apologize, but he can't even open his mouth and she's attacking. Her staff is whipping upwards and sending a blast of heat directly at him. He barely has time to move, the fire causing the steel of his armor to turn a slight red and sizzle. Milessa is stalking towards them, him, and she's raising her staff above her head to drive the staff blade into the ground as she strikes down. The surface below his feet shakes and splits open, flames licking at his calves and ripping a scream from his throat. She's here to kill. The Inquisitor barely has time to react when she's attacking once more, fire snaking around her small body and curling into a ball just above her head. It's large, very large, and he has a flashback to the day he buried Haven. There's a shout of his name, probably Cassandra. He hears the buzz of electricity from Dorian and the constant mumblings of Cole. Truly, however, his attention stays on his sister and he immediately regrets everything. The way he turned on her, allowed himself to be this unforgiving and ruthless force of nature towards the one person he cared for the most. His bow drops from his hand, body falling to his knees. She doesn't bat an eye, doesn't soften up. All she thinks about is how shitty he treated her. A grin tugs at her lips when he's kneeling in defeat. Shame that she isn't taking prisoners today. A flick of her wrist and the ball of flame is hurling itself towards him. There's a scream or two, then silence. Too easy. "Victory is now yours, Elder One."