<aside> <img src="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/secure.notion-static.com/f21bd75c-4630-4cdd-bfd7-023d107e51b2/dao_codex.png" alt="https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/secure.notion-static.com/f21bd75c-4630-4cdd-bfd7-023d107e51b2/dao_codex.png" width="40px" /> In 9:44 Dragon, Montsimmard Circle of Magi Tower (Orlaïs) — The Day Sulevin and Elgarhel reunited, at last:

<aside> 💬 “Did you hear?”, a young Templar asked to his comrade. “The Inquisition is in Val Royeaux, again.” ”For what this time? They want to mess with Orlesian nobles once more, or is it just to free another of their ally from the gallows?”, the other joked, as they both chuckles behind their helmet. ”I think it’s more important now. Since they killed Corypheus and closed the Breach, I haven’t heard of any new… exploit from them. I heard some Fereldan are coming to the capital as well.” ”No wonder it started to smell like wet dog and shit! Ha!” he claps his heavy glove on the neck of the other recruit.

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Elgarhel stood in the middle of the greenhouse, reading more about the plants he was growing with his magic. He listened to the two recruits by obligation, as they were both speaking loud enough to distract his lecture.

<aside> 💬 “You know what’s the best part?” the tallest of the two asked, with a very unsubtle tone. ”They’re going to talk about girls, aren’t they…” Elgarhel thought, slyly looking up at the two figures from his chair. It seems they didn’t even noticed his presence. As to be expected, the Templar leaned closer to his friend’s ear and whispered, still way too loudly to be discreet: “The Inquisitor is a woman. And very pretty on top of that” ”I knew it. It’s always about girls. Ah, poor kids. You and your vows…” the elf chuckled to himself, way more discreetly. ”Oh yeah? What is she like?” the smaller recruit inquired. ”From what my sister told me, she’s a Dalish elf. At least she got these… you know, these weird markings on her face.” ”A knife-ear rulling such an army of Andrastian devots? No wonder people are scared to see a Dalish rule!” they both giggled. ”What’s her name again… Sulivan? Sule… Sulevin! Yeah, Sulevin Lavellan! Ha, can you believe it? She couldn’t sound any more like an elf than she does!” ”Maker’s breath, I wish there were more elves in this Circle, they’re so good looking and…”

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Elgarhel wasn’t listening to them anymore. Sulevin? Sulevin Lavellan? Could it be… after all this time?

His daughter?

He was trembling, letting go of the book he was reading in a loud thud. This time, much louder than the Templars fantasizing about elven women. They both looked at him, visibly startled by his presence and interruption.

<aside> 💬 “Oh! I… I’m sorry, don’t mind me. I… fell asleep. Yeah hum, I shall head back to my quarters now.” he mumbled his fake excuses and left the two young Templars to their confusion.

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In the bedroom, he took a look at one of the maps they kept, pointing out Val Royeaux and Montsimmard and noticing how close they were. Just a couple of days of travel far. Two possibilities appeared to him: one more likely than the other, but both possible, in theory. First, he could send her a letter, knowing her presence in Val Royeaux. Second, Elgar could run away, find her before the Templars find him, and join the Inquisition forced quickly enough to not endure coming back to this Circle. Of course, the first option was more secured for him, but what if she never got the letter? Or think it’s a lie? What proof could he give… Think Elgar, think!

It’s been two whole days since he had sent his letter, filled with informations about the Lavellan only another Lavellan could know. He gave her his location in the Tower, his name, everything Sulevin could link to someone she has never seen before and believed was dead. Elgarhel was running in circles, pace back and forth. Starring at his window for anything coming his way from the north. Nothing. ”Maybe I should have went there myself! I’m an idiot!” he thought, looking down at the wooden planks of the dormitory, holding his head between his hands. More nights passed, as his hope slowly faded away. But one night, a subtle, greenish light, appears over the horizon. Quickly followed by a couple horses, running at full galop toward the Circle of Magi Tower of Montsimmard. He blinked quickly a few times to see better, his eyes getting used to the darkness of the night. And that’s when he saw it: the green eye on black clothes, the heraldry of the Inquisition. She’s on her way! He felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, his body was younger, his mind quicker. Running as discreetly as he could in the middle of the rows of bed in the dorms, he almost tripped on books, dirty clothes and staves left on the ground by his pals. He walked in front of the two same Templars he heard talking the other day, both asleep on their guard duty. On his way, he was trying to imagine how she looked, remembering her mother’s green eyes when he last held her as a newborn baby. The dark, short but fluffy hair strands surrounding her face like little soft spikes… It was 24 years ago. His baby became an adult. Every step closer to the main hall, he felt his heart race with enthusiam, his thoughts invaded by mental pictures of Adaren and Sulevin the last time he got to see them…

“Sully, I’ve got something for you.” Joséphine announced herself, entering Sulevin’s bedroom in Halamshiral. Now that they’ve seen Solas - or should we say, Fen’harel, they were ready to go north and face whatever would try to destroy Thedas, again. Sulevin was holding Ollie in her only arm, still getting used to that new disability. One thing for sure, it was harder to change his diaper single handed, but her dexterity and flexibility helped a great lot. She turned back to look at her friend, holding a message. ”If it’s from Solas, I don’t want it-” ”It’s not.”, Joséphine says gently, still aware some scars are less visible than the absence of Sulevin’s left arm. She switched the document for Oliver, tucking the little baby elf to bed as Sulevin took the nearest candle to read the message.

From Elgarhel Lavellan.

**She let the paper fall to the ground. ”He claimed to be your father, is that….?” ”Yes. Yes it’s him.” Sulevin answered in a low whisper, so faint Joséphine barely heard it from across the room. Sulevin bowed to take the paper in her hands, capture every lines, every words, every curves to see if she could recognize it. The way he wrote “E” was very unique and recognizable. A dalish symbol mixed with Sylaise curvy snakes. As much as Sulevin was scared it was a trap - or another Fen’harel spy, she was now sure it wasn’t. That same “E” was in a couple books Deshanna kept for her training, when she was still expected to manifest magic and become First to the Keeper in place of her father.
”Léli, take the rest of our close troops to the north. I have to go see this for myself. I’ll join you there.” ”This is out of question Sully, you know we cannot count on our troops for now. We cannot let Fen’harel agents infiltrate our ranks any further-” ”Then test them, try to find the agents, dismiss the ones you don’t trust and go to the Imperium. I’ll let Cullen take care of the rest of the troops who remained in Skyhold, and Léliana must be informed of our plans. The Chantry could help.”

On her way to Montsimmard with some trusted allies — Varric Tethras, Sera and Thom, all the certainty she had to meet her father slowly faded. The closer the got to the south, the most impossible it seemed. Yet again, she was riding Ashlynn, or at least, her spirit. A two meters tall ghostly wolf form of her late comrade, who was she to judge the possible from the impossible? Seeing her closest friends around her made her forgot this minute of doubt.

<aside> 💬 “Hey Inky, if we truly get to see your dad, how are you going to introduce us to him?” Sera teased her best friend. ”As my new clan, probably (Chuckles).” Sulevin’s joked. ”Ah yes, an elf, a dwarf and a human…” Varric started, interrupted by Sully. ”It sounds like the beginning of a joke.” ”It would, if we were around a table at a Tavern. Playing Wicked Grace, of course.” Varric added, in his signature provoking tone. ”Seems about right, talking from experience?” Thom retorted.

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As they talked, the tower grow closer and closer, only a couple hours away now. ”Ir vhenas, Ara ma'athlan vhenas, Elgar” (”I’m home, I’ll call you home, father” in the sense “I’m coming back home to you, father”)

Now at the door of the Tower in the middle of the night, she talked to the Templars, showing the Inquisition heraldry and some paper Léliana made her as the new Divine to let get in. As soon as the big door opened, she saw a elven man. Bearing Sylaise vallaslin on his left eye, glowing green in the dim lit. It’s him.

It’s her.

They paused a second, as the Templars acknowledged the mage elf’s presence, who was hiding behind a pillar. As they were about to take him back to his quarters, Sulevin stopped him.

<aside> 💬 “No, wait!…” she walked closer, holding Oliver face closer to her shoulders. “You have more white hair than I do.” he joked. ”And you’re a lot shorter than I imagined you.” she added. And the next second, they held each other in a hug, taking care of not squeezing the baby between them. ”Is that…” ”Your grandson, Ollie” ”Ollie…” he smiled, looking at the young sleepy child, then her again. Capturing every details of her face, her eyes, her nose … ”He looks so much like you” he said, as the last memories of Sulevin being hold by Adaren slowly merged with this new vision of Sulevin holding Oliver. She simply smiled as an answer, and went for a second hug. This time, he realized. ”But? Your arm? What happened?” he said, is hand resting on her shoulder with a worried face, marking his face with tiny wrinkles. ”A long story for another night. We have a lot to catch up first.”

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Varric always had a soft spot for family reunions and drama, he was holding back a tear. Sera was laughing at how long it took Elgarhel to notice her missing arm. And Thom was happy to see his loyal friend meeting a ghost of her past.

They all spent the rest of the night chatting about the Emerald Graves, the Arbor Wilds of his childhood, of Thevardis, his nephew, Adaren and… the sad fate of the Clan.

But between all these tears shed, a lot of them were happy ones. Good memories, funny moments that marked their stories. Reminding Sully again why she was called Sulevin: She wasn’t only Purpose. She was Resolve, she was Ambition, she was Dream.

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