I wished there had been a scene right after Solas leaves so I decided to write one myself. :) F!Mage!Adaar with a Blackwall romance.
I wasn't sure if I should rate this T or M for amputation, but considering I've read some disturbing books with mature themes in my middle school library, I think T will suit this fine. (Especially since Dragon Age series are rated M anyway; fragile-minded young'uns shouldn't be hanging around the DA fanfic section.) If you disagree with the T rating, please tell me and I can boost it up to an M.
"If I live... I'm coming to stop you," Makara seethed through jolting pain, clutching her crackling hand.
"I know."
Makara's old friend took her glowing hand, and with a simple gesture the overwhelming pain had ceased.
"Live well, while time remains."
The stunned qunari stared at her still crackling hand to Solas striding away with a strong sense of purpose in his steps.
Move! Don't let him leave! Makara commanded her body, but it would not obey. She narrowed her eyes at the elf's back, lit by newfound purpose; her purpose to oppose Solas'.
Solas stepped into the blinding light of the large eluvian. Makara let out a frustrated yell and chucked a fireball at him with what was left of her mana. The eluvian's light faded to darkness, and the fireball instead exploded on the mirrored surface, leaving nothing but a black char and the reflection of the failed Inquisitor staring back at her.
Makara fell to her hands but her blackened left arm collapsed out from underneath her, leaving the qunari collapsed on the rocky ground. She lifted her left arm again, but everything below the elbow remained unresponsive and unfeeling. Solas had removed the mark but her blackened arm was dead.
Makara let out an anguished cry that echoed down the valley.
No longer could she wield her Knight-Enchanter blade in one hand and her staff in the other. Solas had crippled the most important thing to her since the beginning of her days as a mercenary: her ability to fight.
She took a shaky breath, and stared up at the darkened eluvian in front of her. She saw the reflection of a broken qunari sprawled on the ground, her white hair falling out of her bun, her vitaar smeared from sweat, her green eyes pained and vulnerable. Yet this weak qunari was adorned in dragon hunter armor of the first Inquisitor, deep crimson and fade-touched gold that shone with the light. The qunari in the reflection did not deserve to be wearing something that radiated such power and importance. The qunari's reflection then turned to disgust, and Makara remembered this pitiful qunari was her.
I need to get out of here and tell the others, Makara thought. She struggled up onto her feet, using her staff for support as her left arm swayed uselessly from her body. Why do I feel so weak? Makara gritted her teeth as she slumped against her staff.
She turned herself around and passed the now stone Viddasala, eyeing her. Solas had petrified her without a single gesture and had done the same to the other qunari on Makara's path through the eluvians. If Makara planned to take on Solas she had to find a way to not end up as another qunari statue. She then walked through the group of petrified qunari warriors, up to the eluvian in which she had entered through, yet it still remained dark.
Makara leaned her staff against the eluvian's frame so she could free her only functional hand. The Inquisitor placed her hand on the surface of the dark eluvian. "Solas..." she hissed the name as a desperate rage bubbled inside her. Did Solas trap her here? She smacked the glass with her palm, hard. How dare he, she seethed.
Suddenly the eluvian flickered to life and Makara recoiled her hand in surprise. She grabbed her staff and without hesitation she jumped through the eluvian. With a flash of light she appeared upon a familiar place and stumbled out of the mirror. Before she could fall down strong arms grabbed a hold of her from both sides of the mirror and steadied her on her feet.
"I-Inquisitor!" both Dorian and Rainier exclaimed.
Makara steadied herself on her staff and glanced between the two men at her side. Dorian pulled his arms away while Rainier kept a worried hand hovering near her just in case. Cole stood expectantly off to the side near the hulking saarebas' body.
Makara let out a sigh of relief, marked with fatigue. "How did you know...?"
"Cole told us you were coming," Dorian answered. "What happened?"
"My lady, what about your arm?" Rainier stressed, alarmed by its blackened appearance.
Makara carefully set herself down on the ground to sit on rocky steps in front of the eluvian, Rainier hovering near. "The mark is gone. I met with Solas and he removed it, but..." Makara's voice lowered as she stared at her limp arm. "M-My arm is dead."
Dorian immediately kneeled down by Makara's left and gingerly lifted her left arm to inspect it. "That's preposterous, perhaps it's broken or needs a simple potion..."
Rainier hastily pulled out a spare potion, uncorked it, and brought it to her lips. "Please drink, my lady. Your arm will be okay, I swear it."
Makara waved the potion away. "It's no use. A potion cannot heal it. My arm is gone. I can no longer move it nor feel with it," she said her voice thick. "It feels as though a foreign weight is attached to my body."
Cole stepped closer, sensing her pain. "I am sorry it had to happen but it was the only way," Cole said softly.
"She's right," Dorian admitted grimly, setting down her arm. "There's nothing left alive in her arm. It is completely fried."
The lines on Rainier's face deepened. "I'll make him pay for what he's done," his deep voice shook with both sorrow and anger.
Makara bit back tears and placed a hand on Rainier's shoulder. "Thom, that isn't our primary concern right now. We need to backtrack to the Winter Palace so I can share that Solas plans to rip down the Veil and destroy this world."
"What?!" Dorian cried, recoiling.
"Maker's breath, why would he do that?" Rainier exclaimed.
Makara clutched the upper part of her dead arm. "To put it simply, he is the elven god Fen'harel and tearing down the Veil would return the world to the way it was before. I can explain in detail later."
Dorian and Rainier could not hide their shocked expressions, but remained silent, waiting for their Inquisitor's next command.
Makara's jaw tightened, then she tightened her grip around her arm, above the blackened piece of meat that clung to her. She could feel the living tissue underneath start to tingle in protest. She stared down at her boots, anxiety rising within her. She had to do this. She could not be weak. "I can't keep this piece of dead flesh attached to me on the way back. It could spread infection to what's left of me. It needs to come off here and now. Thom, ready your sword."
"Makara, please do not ask that of me!" Rainier's argued, agitated at the thought. He touched his sword's pommel, as though fearfully holding it back in its sheath.
"If you do not wish for me to get an infection, cut it off," Makara said sharply.
Dorian paled. "I don't like the plan either, Rainier, but you're the best one suited for it here. You're the only one trained with the sword."
Rainier looked desperately at Makara, his eyes pleading. "There has to be another way. We should have a professional do the job, not have it brutally hacked off by me where you risk bleeding out. Not only that, my sword is covered in enemy blood. That's another risk of infection on top of that."
"I can sterilize your sword with my fire magic," Dorian interjected. "Then I can cauterize the stump in the same way."
Blackwall tensed and glanced back and forth between the two mages, conflicted.
"Thom, I've seen you chop wood in half with one fell swing of a dull axe. I trust you most of all to do this cleanly," Makara said softly.
"Festering, oozing, dead, greedily crawling for more, hungry. I can feel it spreading. Get it off. Please, get it off," Cole mumbled.
Makara shot an accusing look at Cole, while Rainier paled.
"Alright, I'll do it," Rainier submitted.
"Thank you, Thom," Makara said, grateful. She glanced at her three companions. "Now can one of you tighten a belt above my arm? I would do it myself if I could."
Rainier immediately pulled off his belt and tightened it around Makara's upper arm for her, until it was uncomfortably tight and she could feel her arm start to numb. She then shakily stood up, once again using her staff for balance, and moved over to a flat-surfaced rock. Rainier and Dorian followed close by, with Rainier's hand now nervously touching his pommel. Makara began to sweat, feeling her stomach twisting inside of her. It had to happen; the hand was dead and a threat to her health. There was no salvaging it. She knelt down and moved her useless hand on the rock in front of her, positioned it, and then nodded to the mage and warrior.
"Sword," Dorian said.
Rainier pulled it slowly out of its sheath. It was still smeared with enemy blood, blood that was not removed by a hasty whip of the sword. Soon that blood would be replaced by Makara's. He held out his sword at arm's length towards Dorian. "Do it."
Dorian's hand lit with fire. He ran the magical fire over the entire length of the blade. The old blood hissed and then crumbled away leaving a sterile, red-hot blade.
"That's enough," Rainier said, pulling the blade away. "Any longer and my hand will burn."
"As you wish," Dorian responded, extinguishing the fire with a simple motion. The mage glanced worriedly at Makara.
Rainier took a few slow steps towards Makara whilst holding the cooling blade, his face grim. Makara's heart began to race and she felt the cold sweat began to bead on her face. Suddenly Cole was beside her. He held onto her trembling right hand and squeezed. Dorian stood across from Makara with a long face.
"If my handsome face brings you comfort, you're welcome look at it," Dorian quipped, but his voice was strained.
Makara gulped, and nodded at Dorian. "Thom, you need to cut a little bit above the blackened area, into some living tissue, to make sure all of the dead is removed."
"I understand. Whenever you're ready, my lady," Rainier said, positioning the blade above her arm.
Makara took once last took at her left hand; the hand that had saved Thedas, the hand that wielded her Knight Enchanter blade, the hand that helped her button her shirt and tie her hair. How would she adjust to life with one hand? Would she be a helpless cripple, needing others to help her do basic tasks that mere children could do? Could she adapt? Would she be doomed to being a liability on the battlefield? She then looked up the blade Rainier held in his hands. How badly would it hurt? Surely it would be a level of pain she could not comprehend. So many questions swirled in Makara's mind, ones she wished she had the answer to. But these were things that she could not afford to think of right then.
"Do it!" Makara forced the words out of her mouth before she could change her mind, eyes locked with Dorian so she did not have to watch.
"I'm sorry." Rainier swung the blade down with all his might.
She screamed. Overwhelming pain shot up her nerves. Her eyes locked onto the scene in front of her, blood spurting, slick red rocks, and her blackened arm now truly separate from her body. Nothing remained but an unfamiliar stump, where her hand was supposed to be. Makara tried to push back, to get away from it all. Cole's hand on her back kept her in place. Rainier tossed his bloody sword aside and he and Dorian scrambled up to her.
"Hold her tightly, you two. This will hurt even more for her," Dorian said.
Rainier joined Cole and wrapped an arm the best he could around the qunari, and used the other to grip the upper part of her left arm. All of Makara's muscles were tensed, and her chest heaved with each rapid breath. "It'll be over soon, Makara. You are the strongest person that I've had the luck to meet. I know you can get through this. Take deep breaths." Makara attempted to slow down her breathing the best she could but the only thing she could focus on the was the raw pain.
Dorian's chugged a vial of lyrium and tossed the empty container behind him. His hands lit with flames once more, hotter and brighter than before. He held the inferno below her stump and the flesh sizzled and blackened. Makara let out a bloodcurdling scream, screaming past the point her throat went raw from overwhelming pain. She struggled with all her might against the two humans holding her in place to escape the pain but they would not grant her that mercy. The stench of burning meat filled in the air, and as soon as Makara breathed it in she gagged.
After what felt like an eternity of agony, Dorian pulled away his hands and extinguished the flames. "Rainier! Your potion! Now!"
Rainier whipped out the potion and held it to Makara's lips. "Drink, my lady. Please."
Makara greedily gulped down the potion, choking on it on its way down. The four of them then went silent; the three men watching her carefully while Makara panted, her eyes darting around wildly, in a daze. In a minute the potion kicked in and she could feel the painful throbbing in her stump dull, and the skin slowly starting to mend together.
"I'm sorry, Inquisitor," Dorian said. "The potion could not heal your entire wound on its own. The cauterizing was necessary to give the potion some leeway. I hope you understand." He ripped off a clean piece of his coat and tied it around Makara's stump to protect its healing process.
Rainier brushed the stray hairs away from Makara's face, her grey skin pale. "Are you okay, Makara? Please say something."
Cole pulled away, allowing Rainier to cradle the Inquisitor in his arms. "White hot pain, throbbing, overwhelming the senses. Nerves scream in agony, but I am alive. Everything feels so far away, as though a dream."
Makara mouthed a response, but no words came out.
"Makara!" Rainier's grip grew tighter on the qunari, strain in his voice.
Makara's remaining arm slowly lifted and cupped Rainier's face. She smiled weakly. She opened her mouth again. "That... that really hurt..."
Rainier then smiled back, relieved. "I can imagine. Don't ask me again to cut off the other one anytime soon."
"Don't ever plan to..." Makara responded. "That is not... something I want to experience again."
Rainier chuckled. "Me either."
"Thank you," Makara smiled.
"Don't worry, Inquisitor," Dorian said. "Perhaps we can get Dagna to make you a new arm, one that will be better than the old one."
Makara weakly chuckled. "Better than the old one? I hope so."
Not wanting to appear weak any longer, Makara pulled herself out of Rainier's grip and attempted to stand herself up. Rainier and Dorian immediately assisted, making sure she did not fall over. When she was steady enough on her feet they pulled away. They wordlessly understood that Makara prided herself to be independent and strong, but she was not secure in her self-confidence so she was prone to be sensitive to situations that made her seem dependent and weak.
Cole handed her staff which she gratefully took. She used it for support as she walked over to her severed arm. It was so familiar yet so foreign. Something that was a part of her for decades now nothing but a useless chunk of meat on the grass.
Cole stood beside her. "He's taking it back now," he stated.
"What?" Makara glanced at Cole then back to where her severed arm lay, only to catch the last second of it disappearing into thin air, crackling that familiar green of the anchor. Only blood remained as evidence of her arm's prior existence.
He was watching me, Makara thought, feeling anger boil up once more inside her. He stalked me as prey, waiting for me to remove the arm myself. With all his talk of destroying the world he still did not have the guts to remove the damn arm himself and save me the trouble?
Makara let out a bitter laugh. What a turn of events these few days at the Exalted Council have been. The nobles were jealous and fearful of her power. They had forgotten the great deed she had done for them all by saving their world. Now all she was to them was a threat. Even when she appeased them by playing along with their little political game, even when she saved them from the planned Qun bomb threat, they still remained ungrateful and only saw her and her Inquisition as a nuance to get rid of. She believed more than anything that the Inquisition should continue and keep the fragile state of peace that existed in Thedas after stopping Corypheus.
Then Solas crushed her confidence in her beliefs with only a few words. Solas had infiltrated the Inquisition with his own spies, and they had been tripping over Qun spies. The bomb threat had only gotten as far as it did due to the many Qun spies in the Inquisition. Now with Solas' plan, who knows what his spies could do to the organization if she were to go against him. Who knew what other spies could be in the Inquisition right then and now. Despite Leliana's impressive spymaster network, not one hostile spy had been discovered and brought forward. There was no way that the Inquisition could effectively fight against infiltration with an organization so large.
To top that all off, the mark on Makara's old hand had been Solas' responsibility. Her old friend was responsible for giving the orb to Corypheus so he could continue with his plans to tear down the Veil. Makara and everyone else at the Conclave - and Thedas - suffered for it. She fondly remembered the days she listened to Solas talk about the Fade. She learned so many interesting things. Makara also felt a bond with him as another outsider, as another apostate, while surrounded by tons of Andrastian humans. Thinking back on those once fond memories filled her with bitterness. Because of him she was given the mark. Because of him she lost her arm. If he succeeded in his plans she would only have a few years left to live.
She felt her companions' eyes on her back. She turned around to face them. All of them looked worried about her.
At least I still have these three and the others back at the Winter Palace, she thought. With their support Solas will not win.
"Inquisitor," Dorian said. "Think you will survive the trip back?"
Makara nodded. "After all I've survived these past several years, I'll live. I still have unfinished business with Solas after all. I don't plan on dying until that's taken care of."
Watch out, Solas, Makara thought, a fierce expression on her face. My arm being taken from me won't stop me from taking you down.
I really hope we can play the Inquisitor to some degree in the next game! Since the Inquisitor has such a personal stake in things against Solas I feel like the fight against him would be lessened if we played a stranger to him. Guess we'll find out years from now.
Hope you enjoyed this little fic!