A/N: Hello! A quick note before we go further.
One, Raven Sinead is wonderful and continues to act as my beta and Chief Idea Bouncer. But Mischieftess, too, has done some seriously good idea bouncing for me, including the utterly ridiculous parody variety. They are both good people.
Two, I am having entirely too much fun with this so far. Starting a story is always good fun. Hopefully that can sustain me when things get rough.
Three, if you're interested in seeing what Damian Hawke looks like, I posted a picture of how I imagine her on my facebook page that you can go check out if you like.
I think that's it. I hope you enjoy!
Skyhold
Zanneth was many things. She was a Dalish elf away from her clan. She was an orphan raised by her grandmother, her clan's Keeper. She was called Herald of Andraste by some. She was the Inquisitor, a title she accepted, though she truly hated being called "your Worship" by those she knew best, and only tolerated it when she absolute need be.
The last six months had reshaped her in many ways. Her physique was now a hybrid between a hunter and a warrior, her muscles larger than they had been, with a small layer of fat covering everything. Given how much of her time with the Inquisition had been spent losing and trying to regain weight, this was very much a good thing, and difficult to obtain, given her inability to ingest wheat or milk. The Inquisition, too, had turned her hair white, thanks to the mark upon her hand. Her time here had also given her the scarring on her right cheek, courtesy of a prejudice-based attack from a soldier who was no longer part of this world.
Most dramatic, however, was the change to her visage, thanks to her rescue after the razing of Haven. Her vallaslin were obscured on her forehead and the bridge of her nose, and above her scarred right cheek, her pointed ear was no more. Frostbite had necessitated the removal of its tip, and now it ended in a straight line, blunt but clean, just above the inner shell. It had hurt a great deal, but the Inquisitor had been drunker than she'd ever been in her life for the procedure, and then had the most skilled healer in the land close the wound without scarring. She was not yet accustomed to it, but she had accepted it. She was lucky to be alive, and she knew it.
None of this was on her mind at the moment, however. Instead, she was concentrating on the sheet of parchment in front of her.
"'Dearest Zanneth,'" she read out loud, recognizing her name. She looked up. "This is my grandmother's handwriting?"
"Presumably, yes." Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the last two Divines and Seeker of Truth, lay naked next to her, buried in the blankets and furs that kept them warm. Her arm rested comfortably over the small of Zanneth's back. "Would she dictate to someone?"
"Perhaps Relarian… but as he's not available to her…"
"Yes," Cassandra said, her arm tightening around Zanneth's waist momentarily. "Come, let us focus on this, yes?"
Zanneth smiled, nodding, turning back to the parchment. She made her way slowly through the letter, but she managed nearly every word. Then Cassandra took it from her, reading it at normal speed so they would get the full meaning.
"Dearest Zanneth,
It gladdens my heart to read your words. I wish I could see this place you found as safe harbor in the mountains. An old elvhen fortress? Magic residing within it, making the land fertile even so high, even in such cold? It sounds a wonder. I do wish I could see it.
It also gladdens my heart to hear that you survived yet more potentially-fatal trials. It is unfair that you should bear such a burden, and that you should suffer so much. But such is often the fate of those placed within the eye of the swirling hurricane. And make no mistake, da'len. You are indeed at the center of what is promising to be a mighty hurricane, and the calmest place in the chaos is you. But that does not mean there is no chaos. Remember this, my sweet granddaughter. And remember that I am fiercely proud of you.
The clan does well. The hunt was good, and we have enough to see us through until spring. The climate is milder further north. We follow the herds into what the humans call Nevarra. This is where your paramour hails from, yes? I will tell you of it in my next letter. I am sure it is verdant and fertile. The animals would not wish to go to a place that is not.
Keep me informed of your goings-on, as you are able. And if you have need of me, just let me know. It is not entirely unheard of for a Keeper to venture from her clan when the need is great enough.
Dareth shirall, da'len."
Cassandra looked up from the letter. "I told you she would not take issue with our involvement."
"Yes, well. If I had not heard of such things, then it would follow that neither would she," Zanneth said, feeling her face still hot and red from her grandmother's mention of Cassandra as her lover, despite having read over it herself. It was difficult to glean meaning from the words when she stumbled over them so.
There was so much in that sentence she could not read. What was her grandmother's tone? What was her face saying? If they were faced with each other, would her hand be on Zanneth? Or would she be cold and stiff, placing distance between them?
"You doubt her acceptance, don't you?" Cassandra's hand traveled to up Zanneth's cheek, gently insisting the elf look at her. "What do you fear, emma lath?"
Zanneth's heart melted just a little bit at the term of endearment, spoken in the language of the People. Cassandra was only now gaining assurance in her usage of such terms, at Zanneth's gentle encouragement. Sweet cinnamon eyes stared back at the elf from under dark, brooding brows. They did not brood now, however. They spoke only concern.
"I do not know. She is all I have left. Her approval is… perhaps it is childish, but it is important to me."
Strong arms wrapped around her. The letter lay forgotten for a moment on the pillow as Zanneth surrendered herself to her lover's embrace. "It is not childish, Zanneth," she said, speaking into the elf's shaggy white hair. "I forget what it is like. It has been many years since I had family to receive approval from. But I remember how important it was to me that Most Holy looked with approval upon my plans and actions. Perhaps it is not quite the same, but… I can see why it would be important."
"Creators, you are comforting me, and it is you that has no reason to understand!" Zanneth exclaimed, almost forcibly switching their places. Cassandra let her, and in a moment they settled, the warrior's head resting upon the elf's breast. They stayed that way, for some time, the elf petting the human's dark hair, even shorter than her own. Zanneth even dozed. But a gentle rapping upon the door got her attention before she was truly asleep.
"Yes?" she called, rousing Cassandra, whose hearing was not as good as her own, despite having lost half her ear.
"Wuzzat?" the warrior asked sleepily.
"Someone is at the door, Cassandra." She pushed the warrior off, moving to pull her clothes on. Mere weeks before, Cassandra would have been mortified to have Zanneth answer the door, for these were the Seeker's quarters, not the Inquisitor's, and to have it so publicly known that they were lovers was not something Cassandra was accustomed to. But keeping a secret here was like trying to herd cats; they had stopped trying by now. In addition, the eyes that followed them were only happy, none of them malicious or teasing, and so the both of them had relaxed, at least within the walls of Skyhold. Now, it was well-known around the castle that the Herald could be found in the Seeker's rooms, for they both detested the grandiose nature of the Inquisitor's quarters.
Finishing with her clothes, Zanneth opened the door a crack, finding a boy, soon to be a man, dressed in the uniform of Josephine's messengers. "Yes?" she said.
"Begging your pardon, your Worship." His voice cracked, but he managed to keep his composure. Zanneth tried desperately not to smile. She did not think he would see it as anything other than teasing. "Someone came in the night for an audience with you. Lady Montilyet asked me to come wake you early."
"All right," Zanneth said, knitting her brows. "I will be there in five minutes. I hope she can wait that long?"
"Aye, your Worship. She will be in her office with the Ladies Amell and your guest."
Zanneth nodded, shutting the door.
"An audience with the Herald? This person came in the night?" Cassandra let the blankets fall away, reaching for her trousers, in a heap at the foot of the bed.
"Must be an important guest," was all Zanneth said. She let her eyes feast upon the sight of her naked lover. Muscular legs, a solid middle, large breasts that hung like satin petals as she bent double. Her arms were swathed in large muscles, able to dominate in battle with a long sword in each hand. Those arms also sent Zanneth to the moon every time they lifted the small elf. If Cassandra was in the right mood, Zanneth's feet were not allowed to touch the ground between the door and the bed.
Zanneth's shiver was not only from the open window. Cassandra's room was above the smithy, whose fires never went out. The chill through the open window was usually welcome with the heat from their forge rising to invade this room. In the light of the moon coming in through that window, her lover looked exceptionally delicious.
"If you are quite done staring, let us be away," Cassandra huffed, now dressed. Zanneth grinned. The Seeker pretended impatience with Zanneth's desire, but the elf knew the human's ardor matched her own. It was amusing, to say the least, to watch the warrior grapple with the passion of new love, and with the impatience for such things bred by seeing many summers and many romances in others.
Still grinning, Zanneth followed Cassandra out of the building, invigorated by the cold slap of air on her cheeks.
Solona couldn't sleep. She'd tried to lie there and just fake it, but every little move she made, she feared she would wake Leliana. So she finally extricated herself from her lover's limbs, petted the former bard's red hair for a moment, pulled on her clothing, and left their shared quarters.
Walking along the parapets was becoming a tiresome habit. She hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep in a night since they came to Skyhold. She had memorized every hall, every room, every flight of stairs, and exactly how long it took to walk the perimeter of the battlements. She had even run the perimeter, more than once.
Tonight, instead of pacing the parapets, Solona chose to meditate. There was a tower, empty and demolished at the moment, where she was hoping to conduct lessons and fill it with books, so much more than the small library above the Atrium. She couldn't do anything about it now, though, so she merely climbed the ladders to its top, went out on the roof, and perched herself with a view of the path to Skyhold.
Accessing the Fade here, in the cold and the calm and the quiet, was simple. Or, it would be, if her mind could reach that same level of quiet. But it could not. Every time she closed her eyes, the noise was deafening. Images accosted her, of her time in captivity. Now that she knew it had been Corypheus who ordered her capture, the memories were starting to unlock. Or perhaps it was merely her imagination filling in the blanks. She saw his horrible face, the severity and anger in his malevolent gaze. It was so pure, so unadulterated – no person's hate was ever so pure. Always, people's emotions were more complicated than that.
But Corypheus looked at her much how she might look upon a hated pest. His gaze joined his voice, grinding against her soul and making her teeth clench. The lash came, the pain flashed over her skin, and no amount of calming thoughts could quiet the pain and the fear that spread through her, originating with an icy-cold grip on her heart. It seemed a physical sensation when she woke, and when she visited the Fade in her dreams, she was there again, that infernal device filling her head with noise, interrogated and lashed until he left her, of no use to him as she did not bear the taint.
She had been left to Alexius to do with as he would.. How did you survive the taint?! Knowing why Alexius tortured her did nothing to drive the experience from her mind. He wished to cleanse his son of the taint, to save him. And he would do this to her in order to find the "cure." If he had known Fiona had once been a Grey Warden, would he have done the same with her?
She could forgive Dorian his part in it all. He had acted out of love, but even that was not powerful enough to supersede his conscience. As soon as the truth had been revealed to him, he had worked tirelessly to ensure Solona's escape, and to foil the Elder One's plans. He had been merely a pawn. Alexius had been, as well, but a pawn with his own agenda.
An agenda that, even months after his death, was slowly driving Solona mad.
Taking a deep breath, the arcane warrior tried again to center herself. Murmuring, concentrating on the feeling of the vibration of her voice reverberating in her chest, Solona reached out, pulling aside the fabric of the Veil and drawing power from the Fade. It spilled over her into her body, invigorating her immediately. Time suspended, and she saw the Fade overlay the world around her. Stepping into the Fade was so simple for her.
She took that step. Perhaps walking the Fade with a conscious mind would help her sort through some of the nightmares that had been plaguing her?
She opened her eyes again, standing in the raw Fade. The landscape around her shifted, undulating, seeming so small one moment, and the next dwarfing the mage. She knew it for an illusion; her mind, so used to images, was trying to make sense of a place that did not work like the world of her physical self. Thinking changed the landscape.
She thought of Skyhold, and the forms around her began to change.
The first thing she saw was Haven. She saw herself and the Herald of Andraste walking away from the Chantry. Solona gulped. She was not sure she wished to see this. She knew what happened. So she changed her focus to the others, to the hundreds of forms swarming through the village, grabbing every blanket, stitch of clothing, piece of food, and weapon they could carry. She descended to their level, standing in a sea of activity while the others moved at breakneck speed. She walked calmly through it, watching time speed through the events of Haven.
The landscape changed. The Inquisition was in the mountain camp, outside Haven. The Herald and the Hero had been found. Solona saw herself naked in Leliana's embrace, suffering from hypothermia. Then the Herald was being named Inquisitor. The Inquisition moved through the mountains, its Inquisitor and the strange, bald, elven mage at its front. A human Inquisition led by elves. What a sight.
The castle loomed in the distance: their salvation. They did not know it in the vision, but Solona remembered it well, and her memories shaped the reflection she beheld. The castle was preserved by magic: the straw in the beds was not rotten, the food in the cellars was plentiful and still quite fresh, and the land was fertile and not frozen. The gardens were full of well-tended crops, but not a single soul could be found inside the grounds of Skyhold.
A joyful noise was made unto the Maker, this place declared Holy by many. Solona saw the conception of many babes in the celebration and affirmation of life through the winter. Solona would be very busy as a midwife come autumn.
The thought made her smile.
"I did not expect to find this in the Fade when I ventured here this night."
Solona turned, so very surprised to find another conscious mind in the Fade with her. She saw Solas, the elven mage who had kept to himself in Haven, standing at her side.
"I did not expect to find another wanderer of the Fade," she said, knitting her brows. "How is it you come here?"
"Relax, Warrior. I am not another as you. You possess a truly singular gift." The elf smiled, somewhere between a smirk and a grin, before turning and looking upon the scene Solona has been observing, watching as Skyhold was settled and its grateful new inhabitants began the necessary repairs. "I have learned the lucid dream. And as mages are pulled to the Fade more often than others when they dream, I am lucid in my dreams here."
Solona nodded. "It is interesting you see what I see."
"We are in the same place, and we both remember these things. The Fade is acting as I expect it to. It would pick up these similar thoughts of ours."
Solona looked out upon the vista. She saw herself pacing her room, then exploring the dungeons, visiting her patients in the night, and harvesting from the gardens as the dawn came upon Skyhold.
"You have been restless," the man finally said. He just barely came up to Solona's nose.
"Aye. I do not sleep well here, it seems."
"Such is often the case for those who suffer trauma," Solas said, turning once more to face her. "Often the nightmares take some time to find the sufferer. Continued activity holds the demons at bay, but once peace is found, the mind knows none of that peace."
"It is as you say. I have not known one night of peaceful sleep since coming here."
"Is it images that plague you?"
Solona shook her head. "Images, sounds, physical pain…"
"The echoes of your traumas, yes." His bald head bobbed in a nod. "As it is for many."
"I have known others tortured, traumatized. They sleep well." Solona watched as an image of Leliana, body cut open and lying on a cot in Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim, flashed before them. There was no keeping such images from Solas – the Fade was not a place secrets were kept.
"I will say nothing, Warrior. Merely looking upon the spymaster makes it clear she has seen much. I am unsurprised." He turned from the image, facing Solona again. "Your traumas are different. She saw physical pain. Her body was abused. But her mind was allowed to retreat, and thus remain whole. Yours, however…. It has been sundered. Or they tried. It attempts to repair itself, but the body is so much more pliable than the mind, especially for you. For your mind directs your body."
Solona frowned. "Are you saying that when I journey to the Fade, I try to heal as my body does in the physical world?"
He smiled. "I see you are as clever as the Warriors have ever been! So strange you are not of the People… Yes, your mind attempts to heal itself as your body is so easily able to do. But you won't let it. You awaken, forcibly rend yourself from the Fade, before any progress has been made."
"How do you know so much?"
"You make such a splash in the Fade, Warrior," he said with a shrug. "I see its ripples each time I venture here."
"You are very strange," Solona responded, frowning. "You say nothing, reach out to no one, and yet know so much."
"I have many important relationships." Suddenly the landscape changed, the raw Fade showing once more. "But they are not of the physical world." Several presences made themselves known where none had been before.
Solona started, eyes riveted on one of these spirits. "Valor?!"
"Warrior!" the spirit shouted, its deep voice booming within and without. "Another challenge?" It lifted its mighty sword above its head, but did not try to strike her.
Solona turned to see Solas's smirk. "I see you have met before?" he said.
"Valor showed me how to access the curtain of the Veil. It was the first time I came here as an arcane warrior." Solona turned her eyes upon the armored figure. Then her eyes traveled to several others, these nebulous, vaguely human-shaped, but with no visible details. "You commune with spirits?"
"I speak with them, yes. They are my good friends. The mundane is… well, mundane, after spending my dreams with these personalities."
"So you draw your wisdom from your friends," Solona breathed, understanding dawning.
"Something like that. Perhaps one day I will reveal all of my person, but that is enough to explain for now, yes?"
"So you can help me?"
He smiled again. "Ah, that cleverness! Yes, I can help you. At least, I hope I can."
"And how can I repay you for such?"
"It will be enough to know the ancient Order persists. Yours is an existence that is unique, almost lost. Your very body is a door through to the Fade. But your troubled mind makes the Fade uneasy, the spirits restless. I fear for them, as I fear for you. I would see all of your agitation eased."
Solona nodded. She knew he spoke truth, for there was no hiding emotion here, in this place of raw feeling.
"Come meditate with me in the Atrium when you have the time," Solas continued, nodding to his spirit friends. "You can take me here with you, outside of sleep. For now, however, someone approaches you on the battlements."
Solona opened her eyes, and there, with the Fade and the physical world existing in one place, was Leliana, frozen in time, her aura bright and blue eyes brighter. Stepping back into the physical world, Solona felt time move forward again, and watched as Leliana continued walking to Solona's side.
"Meditating?" she asked.
Solona nodded. {Yes,} she signed with her hands, before pushing herself to her feet. She was sore, stiff, and bloody freezing. She must have sat here for hours, clad only in hose, shirt, and boots. {I couldn't sleep.}
Leliana nodded, handing her a cloak. "You haven't slept well since we came here."
{Yes. But I have a feeling… it may improve moving forward.} She did not yet wish to tell Leliana of Solas's offer of help. She wished to see what that help might look like first.
"Someone arrived at Skyhold while you were in the Fade." Blue eyes caught hold of her own. "Your cousin, the Champion of Kirkwall."
"Damian is here?!" Solona had not seen the elder Hawke in years, but they had written often once she had learned the Hawke family had settled in Kirkwall after the Blight. She had even recruited Bethany to the Grey Wardens after the younger Hawke had been tainted in their Deep Roads expedition. Bethany had stayed with the Ferelden Order even when Solona had fled, leaving Amaranthine under the care of Oghren.
Leliana nodded. "Yes. Apparently you and Varric invited her for an audience with the Inquisitor?" she said, a single brow lifting.
Solona's face flushed. "Yes, we… well, she and he fought Corypheus together. Bethany told me thus. That is now our foe. He told me he knew where she was, so I told him to invite her. We agreed not to tell Cassandra…"
"A wise choice," the Left Hand said, her smirk threatening to spill over into outright laughter. "She is going to kill him. You know this, yes?"
"Yes. Come. Let us go keep that from happening."
They made their way from the ladder, heading for Josephine's office.