A Gleam In Her Eyes
"Well, let's hear it. I'm tired of waiting for someone else to get the balls to ask you," Sera said as she sat down on the other side of the large table, directly in front of Anya. They were in Skyhold's tavern, and even with the majority of their companions already gone to find trouble elsewhere, it was still bustling with activity. Loud voices filled the large building and reverberated through the walls. Waitresses milled about through the tables, laughing along with the rest of the patrons.
Anya, lost in thought, paid Sera no attention. The wine they both had been drinking had unfortunately started to take effect, even after eating the big meal that the Inquisition's cook had so readily prepared in light of their recent victory against the Wardens of Adamant Fortress. On top of that, Josephine had secured a hefty sum of gold from the dwarven capital of Orzammar, filling the Inquisition's coffers even further. We'll need to get bigger ones soon, Anya thought as a satisfied smile overtook her face. Victories on political and military fronts in the same day? 'Twas a rare occasion, and thus it was a time for celebration. A joyous aura of energy had wrapped its tendrils around Skyhold's occupants; child and adult, man and woman, soldier and cook. No one was excluded from the revelry.
Sera kicked her feet up onto the table, knocking a mug of ale over in the process, making Anya jump in her seat. Her companions would always tease her about how jumpy she was, but it wasn't wrong to be overly aware in their line of work.
Anya looked over at Sera with a smile on her face, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Iron Bull downed another mug of ale faster than she could blink.
Anya had come to respect Iron Bull greatly over the past few months. He had brought his mercenary company, the Bull's Chargers, named quite aptly, into the Inquisition's service not long ago, and had proven himself a respectable leader and loyal friend. The respect his men held for him was astounding, considering each one of the nine members came from completely different backgrounds. In all honesty, Anya didn't give a damn about how nice or awful they were to each other off the battlefield. All she cared about was the ability to follow directions and work as a team, and they did that just fine. Iron Bull's presence was just a very welcome side benefit - he was one of the most talented warriors she had ever seen.
Iron Bull, or Bull as their companions had taken to calling him for short, was always drinking, but never drunk. That may be attributed to his towering size - he is a Qunari, after all. She hadn't met many of the large, horned people in her life, but she assumed they did not enjoy drinking and revelry as much as he did. Qunari were generally a very stoic people. Bull was extremely large, even for a Qunari - Anya was little more than child-sized in comparison.
The only child of a noble family, you can imagine how her parents reacted when their daughter was born incredibly small - she never grew into a tall, graceful woman quite like her mother. Thankfully, her sister was born seven summers later and promptly filled the role of her mother's copy, satisfying the old woman for a time. Yvette was perfectly built, beautiful beyond words. The spitting image of Adela Trevelyan, their "wonderful" mother. Anya, on the other hand, was very petite, but always training in the practice yard - besting most of their soldiers, and defeating her father and potential suitors by the time she was around twenty summers. Her small size did not affect her skills in combat in the slightest.
"How am I supposed to find a suitable husband for you? Men are afraid they'll break you by hugging you at the wedding, or that you'll cut their bloody heads off," her mother would always say. Anya would scoff and walk off - she didn't want a husband, a chain. If her parents died prematurely she could damn well run the teyrnir by herself. She was the Teyrn's daughter, a fully trained warrior, not some batty old farmhand. She was a Trevelyan. Independant and strong - "willful," her father would always say. Stubborn as a ram, but wise. Cunning, yet compassionate.2
Because of her small size, whenever she and her companions were away from Skyhold, she would hunt. Bull could swing his axe around a battlefield and demolish everything in his path, but ask him to hunt anything that required stealth, and he would end up embarrassing himself. A pity, really. But, Anya had grown quite fond of the large Qunari, despite his tendency to get stuck in between trees because of his rather large horns.
Anya chuckled at the memory and looked over at Solas, a very wise, if not pretentious, elf who had been with them from the start, as if to ask, "Do you know what she's talking about?" and he shook his head in answer. Anya ran her fingers through her long red hair as she turned to look at Sera once more. "What is it you have to ask? Out with it." Sera answered promptly, but her response sent a chill down Anya's spine. The elven woman's eyes were alight with curiosity and youthful excitement. Anya remembered a time when her own eyes were filled with such a light. "Let's hear about the scars, the ones on your neck and your face. We've all seen them, but no one has the balls to ask! There has to be a story behind them!" Sera exclaimed as she threw her hands up in the air dramatically. "Did you kill a dragon? Lose a duel? Spit it out."
Bull shot Sera a warning look, which she promptly ignored - Solas immediately tensed. Even with the tavern still full of celebratory cheers and music, an uncomfortable silence hung around their table like a thick fog. Anya took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. She finally said, "A political rival of my father's stayed at our estate one night, ten summers ago. I got it by trying to protect my sister and niece." Sera sighed, clearly not satisfied with the simple response she was given. It seemed that Anya's response had raised more complicated questions for the young elf instead of the simple answers she had sought.
Anya's face went blank as she stared down at her glass of wine, now completely empty. "Sera, perhaps this topic is not one that Anya enjoys discussing," Solas said in a warning tone. Bull nodded slightly, clenching his fists tightly under the table. Solas put a calming hand on his shoulder. They both stared at Sera hard enough to make her flinch, but sadly not hard enough for her to rethink her questioning. Anya sighed, "If I don't tell her now she'll just keep asking. Won't you, Sera?" She turned to the young elf, and Sera smiled and nodded proudly, kicking her feet back up on the table as if she'd just won a game of Wicked Grace.
Sera and Solas could not be more different if they tried. Both were elves, but the older of the two was focused on only one thing - lost elven history, his head always stuck in the past. He believed in elven deities. Sera on the other hand, was just out of her teenage years and had the ego to go with it. She was more human than elf, and followed the Maker and the Chantry - much like most of the humans in Thedas. She ignored anything that challenged her belief, to the extent of hypocrisy and the irritation of her fellow companions. The young woman was stubborn - once she got onto a topic, there was no getting her off of it.
Bull watched Anya carefully as she touched her scar absently. It was a habit of hers that he had quickly noticed. She would always say it was an ugly thing, and tried to cover it up to the best of her ability. Bull just thought it added to her charm - it ran from the right corner of her lip, back across her jaw and down her neck. Anya called the barkeep over to refill her glass of wine, and began slowly, "The man that was visiting my father was a bastard, plain and simple. He always had his eyes on my sister, Yvette. They were the eyes of a cat stalking its prey. Hungry, always looking for weakness. My father never seemed to notice, or just didn't care - I never found out which. It was probably the latter." Sera's eyes were filled with excitement and curiosity, and she hung on to every word that came out of Anya's mouth.
Anya tapped her fingers against the wooden table in a steady rhythm and continued. "One night he and my father had been debating over something - land claims, I believe. The things old men preoccupy themselves with never cease to bore me. But, their debate had run very late into the night. I always roamed the halls of the estate when I couldn't sleep, which was often. I played card games with the guards on duty, snuck them food from the kitchen in the late hours of the night. They would always smile in slight confusion, but it was a smile nonetheless. My father never said anything about it, but I think he knew. He would always smile to himself in the mornings when I told him I slept well through the night."
Anya took a large drink of wine, earning her a worried look from Bull. This was a story she did not enjoy telling, and he could see it in her eyes. The human was good at concealing her emotions behind a mask of humor, but it wasn't hard to read the small tells that she couldn't hide. Anya called the barkeep over and asked for a bottle of Antivan brandy, the strongest they had. Bull would probably have to carry her to her quarters by the end of all this.
Anya slowly continued, taking a small sip of the brandy and grimacing. "I checked on my mother, asleep in her room, probably dreaming of marrying me off to some rich noble in Orlais. The woman was always playing matchmaker," she said, with a small laugh and an unconvincing smirk plastered on her face. "I then continued to my sister's room, but noticed there were no guards about. The shifts were clear, no guards ever shirked their duties - they knew the consequences. Something was wrong."
The youthful curiosity in Sera's eyes had been replaced with something far more deadly - fear. Fear meant losing control. Fear brought too many emotions. Anya knew for a fact that Sera hated fear, hated when things weren't simple and easy to digest. The young elf grew increasingly uncomfortable, drawing her knees up to her chest, as Anya proceeded to tell the tale.
Anya observed the young woman's actions through a mask of unshed tears, barely retaining her composure. It wouldn't do for the Inquisitor to break down in the tavern like some lowly commoner. If her mother got wind of it, she'd march right into the fortress and drag Anya straight to her room by the ear, and lecture her about it well into the next age. No guard, templar, mage, or dragon could stop that woman when there was a lesson to be learned in the delicate art of etiquette. Anya clung desperately to her composure, but it was like clinging to a rock in a rushing river. She was slowly losing grip, and she knew it. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Anya took a moment to calm herself as best she could and resumed, "I continued cautiously down the hall, making a side run to grab a sword from one of the many weapon racks locked in the armory. I then hurried down the hall when I heard my sister scream," Anya said as she took a large drink of the brandy. "I ran to her room as fast as I could, and found my father's… 'business associate'," she growled in a disgusted tone, wrinkling her nose slightly as she did when she was uncomfortable or angry.
"He was on top of my sister and my niece was cowering in the corner, her now blood-stained teddy bear clutched to her chest. I could tell my sister was severely injured. The bed and floor were covered in blood, and she was barely breathing." Anya gritted her teeth and continued. "When he saw that I had entered, he jumped off of her and tackled me onto the floor, drawing a dagger from his belt and slicing it down my face in a foolish attempt to incapacitate me. Any chance at life he had left disappeared at that moment. I had dropped my sword as I fell, and I spit in his face as his features contorted into a horrible look of rage. I felt the blade rip through my skin a second time, barely missing the major vein in my neck. I clawed at him with my nails desperately, my only thought being that I had to protect my niece at any cost. I didn't know whether my sister still lived or if she had gone to find peace at the Maker's side." Anya paused briefly, her eyes glassy and filled with grief, face filled with anguish and disgust. "I didn't want to know what he had done to her. All I could hear was my niece crying helplessly in the corner while this… filth was on top of me."
Anya sat completely rigid and drew a shaky breath, tears streaming down her face. Her inner battle for retaining the composure she so desperately needed was lost. Bull wanted to go over and pull the small woman close and tell her it was going to be okay - but he knew she needed to finish this story without interruption. She was already too deep into her memories for him to protect her, for anyone to protect her. He gave Sera a pointed look and drew a calming breath.
Sera had guilt plastered all over her face, her large brown eyes filled with tears that she angrily wiped away. Bull took no small pleasure in seeing her realize the impact of her questioning. Anya wiped some of the tears from her face with a shaking hand. "Just as he was about to end it, I glimpsed my sister on the bed, not breathing; I thought of my niece, losing both of the women that she idolized and cherished. I would not allow that to happen. I stopped feeling the cold silverite blade on my neck, ready to slice at the slightest movement. All I could feel was the primal need to survive, and protect a child who could not yet protect herself." Anya paused briefly, staring at Sera with expressionless, but tear-filled eyes. The elven woman was looking at her in shock, tears streaming down both of their faces.
"Just as I was thinking of something, anything to do to get him off of me - a guard that I assume had heard the screaming broke down the door and gave me the opportunity to strike. My father's 'business partner' lie dead on the floor, my sister motionless on the bed. I ran to my niece and held her to me - I didn't care about my face, about the torn flesh and the blood. She, however, was horrified - I must have looked quite the mess. I held onto her anyways, held her until my parents were summoned to the room. I gave her to my mother and looked at her with sorrow in my eyes - I hadn't been fast enough. It was my fault. If I had been there a minute sooner my sister would still be alive. My niece would still have her mother.
"We found the guards who were supposed to be on duty dead in the courtyard. Two of them had families, children. The third was practically a saint, and I had known him since childhood. He was one of the servants' sons, and a dear friend. Three good men butchered over land claims. Five children left without fathers," Anya said in a voice breaking under the weight of guilt and grief.
Anya put her forehead down on the table and raked her fingers angrily through her hair. "The large wound on my neck was bandaged and taken care of, and healed rather well over time. It was extremely lucky that I hadn't died on the spot. My mother suggested having a healer remove the scar, to keep up appearances for the family. I said no. At that time, the scar was a mark of my failure to my sister that I felt the need to keep out of self-punishment. Now, 'tis just a painful reminder. My sister was dead, my niece permanently scarred. She didn't understand why Mommy wasn't ever going to come back." Anya's face shattered into grief once more as she took a shaky breath and clenched her fists. Sera had her head on her knees, crying like a small child who had lost her favorite toy.
Anya stood up shakily and turned to the elven woman. Sera looked at Anya with tears in her eyes, silently pleading for her to say something - anything, but she did not. Sera finally managed to say, "I-I'm sorry... I didn't know…" Anya glared at the elf and snapped at her. "No, you didn't. And you didn't have any right to." Sera looked at Anya with a bewildered look on her face. "I'm sorry," she said again. "No, you're not. You're just trying to convince yourself that none of your actions have consequences," Anya said as a venomous glare overtook her face and revealed her unmistakable fury. With fire in her eyes, Anya slowly closed the distance between her and the elf, until she finally got down on eye level and hissed, "I have news for you, Sera. Your actions and the things you say do affect others, and every misstep you make reaches my ears. Don't think I'm ignorant to all of the trouble you cause under the pretense of 'helping the little people.' Be careful, or you'll earn an order to take leave of this fortress. Permanently."
Anya turned quickly on her heel, and said to Bull with as calm of a tone she could manage, "I believe I may be drunk. Would you mind helping me to my room?" Bull looked at her with a pained look on his face and helped her out of the tavern, shooting a glare back at Sera as they left. To say the look on the elf's face was one of shock, would be an understatement. Sera was rarely speechless, but Anya's anger had left her without a thing to say. Bull gladly noticed Solas staring down the young elf, beginning to talk to her sternly with an angry tone. She wouldn't listen to the older elf - she never listened to anyone but herself. However, it was still comforting to see her being chastised.
Bull held Anya tightly to his chest and picked her up in his arms. "I can walk by myself, Bull. I am not a child." Bull smirked down at her and sighed - Skyhold was huge, with many steps and cracks in the stone. She did not need a head injury on top of everything else. She was already clumsy enough when sober. They finally reached the stairs up to her chambers, and Bull set her down gently to walk up on her own - her pride would only allow for a small amount of help. He stared down at her, looking at the small woman with a sad expression, regretful he couldn't protect her from the emotional pain she had suffered.
As if noticing the weight of his gaze, Anya turned around and looked at him with dull, hopeless eyes. Tired eyes. Bull loved a great many of her qualities, but her eyes were a step above all the rest. They always gleamed with laughter and happiness; they lifted your spirit just by glancing in your direction. To see them lifeless was very strange and unsettling. "Maybe Sera will mind her own damn business now. That child has no idea how ugly life can be," she said with a small frown.
He helped her up the stairs and sat down on the couch as he watched her walk over to a bookshelf he had never noticed. It was small, and rather oddly placed in a distant corner of the room. She retrieved something small and came to sit beside him. "Our family had a portrait made each year. Yvette would always get so excited and buy my niece a new dress to wear. They both loved the whole ordeal - I used to think it was useless. Now I can't describe how happy I am that my mother forced me out of my armor once in a while."
She paused for a few moments and looked out the window, lost in thought and memory. She turned to him with a small smile, the gleam in her eyes reignited and burning like a wildfire. "Once this war is won and everything is over, I hope to go back to my niece. I will be there for her. No matter what I have to do to make it happen, I will be there," she said. Bull was amazed at how quickly she had come back to life.
He had asked her once why she was so stubborn and fought so hard - now he knew. No force in the world could stop a woman with a child to protect and return to. She held the portrait gently and looked at it with a sad smile. He watched as she slept peacefully once again and thought of what the future would hold. Anya would see her niece again, and Bull would make sure of it. As long as he was breathing, that wonderful gleam would stay in her eyes.