Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
The Cheshire Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.
Alice: I don't much care where.
The Cheshire Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.
Alice: ...So long as I get somewhere.
The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
'When I give you the signal, we make a run for it.' Cassandra whispered. Her grip on the elf was vice-like, but, and her dagger was at his throat, but she could have sworn neither thing impressed him one iota.
'An exceptional plan.' He grumbled.
The torches of their pursuers were casting long, menacing shadows through the woods. Distant one moment…close, the next.
'Where, pray tell would we be running to?' he asked.
Cassandra cursed under her breath, and tightened her grip even further. 'Away from those.'
'Ah, we shall be running away on foot from a group of mages who can turn into crows?' the elf politely inquired. 'Neither strangling me or attempting to give me a close shave will change the fact that we cannot possibly outpace them.'
They were so close now that Cassandra could hear their voices – still at a distance, but if she wanted to dash, dragging at least one of the murderers with her, it would be now or never. And, she grudgingly admitted to herself, he was somewhat right; she was accustomed to running in full armour, but for as frail as the mage looked, he would be a burden.
'Alternatives?' she hissed, in his pointy ear.
'Yes. Untie my hands.'
'So you can turn into whatever scavenging bird, and fly back to your murderous flock?'
He sighed. 'I've already told you - I am not with them.' The elf all but hyphened.
'Oh, and you were just ambling though the woods, at night…'
'I am a keen observer of…'
They both froze; the blood mages were close enough to see, now, dark figures gliding through the trees. Fortunately, they were heading in the wrong direction, at least momentarily, so Cassandra had time to shift herself and her captive around the tree and out of sight, yet she knew it would be but a momentary respite. Their pursuers were spreading out, and it would only be a matter of time before they were found.
'…nature,' the elf finished.
Oh, if she had not needed him for evidence, she might have split his skull, right then and there…
Byron's death cannot be in vain.
'You will shut up, or I will…'
'Begin asking yourself somewhat intelligent questions?' the elf hissed back. 'Such as, if I were with them, why I am not shouting?'
'Dagger to throat,' she matter of factly replied.
'Was I also thinking about your dagger to my throat when the eve started? Might it also explain why I am not dressed like them, why I have no blood on my hands and why I don't even have a staff?'
Cassandra looked down at her captive, finding that he was looking up at her too; not with the gaze of a guilty man, but with the gaze of an annoyed teacher. She gritted her teeth, for he did look honest, he had indeed not shouted, and his heartbeat was steady, while her own heart was racing as if it had been trying to cross Thaedas in mere minutes. Still, what man would have feared nothing, if he'd not been convinced his allies would best her, and that the moment she set him loose…
'Untie. My. Hands. Now.' He said, even as they once more shifted along the tree. The others would surround them in but a moment, the lights of their torches allowed them but the smallest angle of darkness.
'Run,' she barked pushing him forth; unexpectedly the elf pushed back, with enough strength to knock the air out of her chest. He was much smaller than she was, especially in armour, but he clearly…
All the torchlight turned to them, and both breathed out as one.
I will die here, Cassandra thought.
'Blessed beyond!' the elf exclaimed, dropping to his knees and slipping from her grasp. 'Humans! Alright,' he said, even as she desperately tried to catch the collar of his shirt. 'You want to run? Run after me.'
And she did, driven by no more than the desire for revenge; if she would die here, she would take at least one of them with her – he darted towards the torches, just out of her sword's reach, and she followed, not caring for the fact that the light behind her grew stronger. They'd dropped their torches, setting dry leaves on fire, crows cawed above, yet she would have this one, the one who left glowing blue tracks on the forest floor. She only saw shadow and those footsteps, ahead, but she ran, feeling blood in her throat, the despair of losing, feeling as though her next step would be her last.
Cassandra stopped short, not knowing whether she'd run fifty feet or a mile.
He had stopped too, and was looking to the sky. The moonlight danced, veiled by a murder of crows, and he was staring straight at it – waiting for them to land, waiting for them to swoop from the sky, waiting to laugh.
'Cave,' the elf said. 'Left of you. Get in, do not go far…'
'You think I'll help you bury me after you've killed me? Treacherous vermin! I will run you through!'
'Suit yourself,' the elf sighed, ducking into the darkness.
She'd not let him get away, not that easily – she followed, then stopped again, because she could truly see nothing ahead; there were so many crows above that they stole all light. Some were already landing, re-gaining human shape.
Cassandra spun on herself, sword at the ready. The one's she'd so foolishly lost was well away, she reckoned, but of those now surrounding her, she would take…
None.
He grabbed her from behind, pulling her off her feet and into some corner – she could not tell whether it was a tree's hollow or, indeed, a cave, but she could definitely tell that it was some sort of hole. The elf run his bindings across her blade, freeing himself, and vanished – this time he left no tracks to follow.
She'd not fallen more than six feet, though, and she was unharmed – the veiled figures, clad in darkness and fire closed in on the hole she was in, in a small semicircle.
'What do you want to do with her?' one asked, leaning in.
She swung her sword at him, but he pulled back in plenty of time.
'One dead Seeker is enough for the night,' another responded. 'Let's just make sure they don't find this one. We can always blame them for losing the girl. If this one disappears…'
'Good thinking,' the fist one agreed. 'Let's just bury her where she stands. That's one cave she's not getting out of.'
'I'll run each and every one of you through hellfire!' Cassandra shouted. 'For the Maker!'
She jumped up, and almost made the edge, but raw, damp earth and tree roots and rocks gave in, and she slid back, scrambling, to a chorus of laughter.
'No, little fool, you will die in it. Seal the entrance.'
'There's the other exit…' someone in the darkness dared.
'If she tries it, they won't even find her armour. No one found anything of any of our men. Just seal her in.'
Her uplifted sword did nothing, just as Byron's had done nothing – fire, mud and rocks tumbled upon her; Cassandra fought, she desperately fought, batting debris to the side, and holding her shield to the flames, yet there was no pushing back, no chance. Her shield grew too hot, so she dropped it. As soon as she did, fire licked her breastplate, and, along with the damp earth, assaulted her throat, burning out and snuffing out each breath. It felt as though the entirety of Thaedas was collapsing around her, all light was gone and all hope was gone…
Don't fight when you already know you've lost, Byron had said.
She closed her eyes, and jumped back. She'd not obeyed him in life, at least she could obey him in death, thus she withdrew, for what felt like an unnatural distance. The same darkness that had pulled her in the cave was pulling her deeper within it.
The left hand side of her armour was fused to her body. There was no way back up; whomever had buried her alive had even had the irony to place her shield as the seal on the wall of solid granite that now blocked whatever hell-hole she had fallen into.
They said there was another exit, she thought, crashing to her knees, but leaning on her sword to keep herself upright. He said come in here but don't go to far in, well, if I…I am still alive.
She swallowed dirt.
As long as I am alive and I have my sword I…
I will get to Val Royaux. I will tell them what happened here, I will stand, I will stand, I will stand.
Cassandra stood, and walked forth into the unknown, her sword more crutch than weapon.
'I need to find water,' she told herself, out loud.
…water, water, water…the cave whispered back.
'And then I will find a way out!' she shouted, to overcome the pain, the loss, the failure. 'I will find it, do you hear me?'
Me, me, me…
The sound reverberated, causing even more damp earth to fall on her hair and face. Dank, foul smelling blobs of it. Then, great chunks of it. All was collapsing about her again and she could not move fast enough. The mages outside had not killed her, not yet, but her hubris just might have. She limped faster and faster, but she could not go fast enough to surpass the speed at which the cave was collapsing. She pushed on nonetheless, tears carving grooves and hills over the caked mud.
There was a shimmer behind her, something blue, but she did not stop to behold it, or wonder why it was even there. She slipped on the moss under her feet, but on she went, until the ceiling of the tunnel she was walking was made of solid rock. Dawn gilded all things from somewhere above and Cassandra knew she must have walked for hours. A small lake glittered just beneath the opening.
Hope, the light of it, the fresh air – all dashed by the thing that came out of nowhere, spinning, live rocks, swirling towards her and she held her sword high – the thing did not care, and hit her, once, twice, so many times she could not parry anymore and fell back.
'Fen'Harel enasal enaste,' was the last thing she heard, before what she thought was the sound of death.
When Cassandra awoke, the cave was dark, but for a warm, merry fire.
She did not even feel that poorly…
Not him again.
The elf from who knew know many hours before was sitting, legs outstretched, and squinting at a book, which he was turning ever which way.
'Would you consider supper before you try to kill me again?' he asked, not looking up.
She reached for her shoulder, and found it bandaged, but also surprisingly mobile and painless.
'There is a cup of healing brew on your right hand side. I'd say, take a sip. If you can stomach it, there is a good rabbit and…'
'Food?' she asked, sitting up – she looked down at herself, and found both of her breasts bound. 'You undressed me?' she shrieked.
'Nothing to be ashamed of. Most women would really love to have those twin moons,' he chuckled. 'Most men would like to bask between them. I did nothing of the sort, I just peeled your armour off, applied healing ointment, and waited for you to wake up.'
'You undressed me!'
'Yes, well, your armour was fused to your chest. Literally. We'll have to wait until…'
Cassandra picked up a small rock and threw it at his head. She was surprised she missed, but she did avenge herself in words.
'Fine. Your head looks like a man's down below, penis. Pecker!'
'I am glad to hear you say so,' the elf said. 'Would you care for food?'
She took in her surroundings, and him – and odd man, in an odd place. The place, at least, was beautiful, and upon more attentive inspection, it was no cave. It was an ancient hall that nature had reclaimed; its ceiling had collapsed, leaving them under the open sky. What she had taken for a lake was no lake either. Though its edges were dented, it was a purposefully built, circular pool, and the man had not brought her here by fortuitous accident.
His camping implements, few as they were, were neatly arranged. He'd clearly been using the place as base for his explorations for quite some time. Though what kind of man would revel in such solitude…
She was too tired to think, and, in truth, did not wish to; strange as it might have been, it was now very clear he was not one of Byron's murderers, and, as she felt famished, nothing else mattered for the moment.
'Food will be welcome.'
The man stood, and filled her a battered copper cup of whatever was brewing on his small fire. He'd said rabbit, but it tasted like so many other things beside, and she reached for a tiny bit of linen to wipe her mouth.
'They burned me from above,' Cassandra whispered. 'And from below. You saved me… How did you…'
'As I previously tried to impress upon you, I am a keen observer of nature. I knew of this cave. I knew they would not follow us in here. Don't slurp.'
'When I'm hungry I eat fast!' she shot, bringing up her dagger, and putting it under his chin, as he'd unwisely come close.
He's undressed me but not disarmed me?
She felt a tiny bit ashamed, and slackened her wrist.
'Just eat,' the man chuckled, leaving the cup un her hands.
She did. The stew was hearty, and brought warmth to her limbs. 'I thought,' she said, 'that when they melted the armour into my chest I was going to die.'
The man held her wrist and forced another bit of stew into her mouth. 'Well, I get the sensation that you don't like being wrong, but in this case, you were. You will be falling asleep in a moment, however… so eat, and…'
'I will kill them all!' she muttered.
'Can wait until morning.'
Indeed, it could; her limbs melted, there was no pain, there was just the warmth of his stew, and the strength of his arm as he laid her down.
'What was in this?' she whispered, not feeling further from death than she had felt moments before.
'Royal elfroot, rabbit, wine, felandaris, some mushrooms, more felandaris…Sleep.'
She found the moss softer than the softest mattress she had laid upon. It even seemed that her head was sinking into it, and, Cassandra thought, if this was death, she would willingly surrender to it…
'Ow!' she grumbled. She'd reached her arm out, and found a wild rose; a tiny, stubborn thing. She picked it up and beheld it.
'I know why the names of all of those herbs. What's this one for?'
The man looked up from his book, which, to Cassandra's tired an felandaris fed senses, looked askance.
'That one serves no particular purpose. It just reminded me of you.'
She propped herself up, not caring that the bandages were unravelling slightly. It was a thing of many petals, nuances…He'd brought her one that blushed from white to red; its petals danced about each other, frilly and perfumed and she breathed its perfume in…
'How did it remind you of me?' she whispered, nestling both her arm and her flower close to her chest. 'It is beautiful.'
'It is thorny,' the elf said, before she fell asleep once again.
Morning came, and Cassandra squinted at the first rays of sunlight; she felt well rested, but still slightly groggy, thus the smell of warm tea was welcome. She lifted herself on her arms, frowning a little of how light and fit she felt. Whatever he'd fed her through the night had worked wonders.
The elf was still there, and still reading. He peered over the covers of his book, and gave her a small smile, making her regret her words on the previous eve – he did look strange, but not extremely…bad. Aquiline nose, wide blue eyes, square chin, tall cheekbones… Even the fact that he was perfectly bald actually suited him somewhat. In fact, the only thing that she had been half right about was that he did look exceptionally masculine; perhaps, she thought, her description had been apt, yet she might have considered choosing her words better.
'Good morning,' Cassandra greeted.
'You are well?' he asked.
'Yes, thank the Maker…'
He smirked. 'I think you should be thanking me, but we'll let that pass. Help yourself to some tea. I would join you, but I detest the stuff.'
'Nothing in this that will put me right back to sleep?' Cassandra only half joked, filling her cup.
'Not unless jasmine has sleep inducing qualities that I don't know of. I will make you some eggs after I finish this chapter. There are a few nests nearby, I shall go fetch them, if you think that you will be fine changing your bandages on your own.'
She chocked on the tea, and blushed to the tips of her ears. Right, she reminded herself, he'd seen her naked – well, half naked, at least, but the point stood.
The man grinned, as if he'd been reading her mind, and set his book aside. 'No, I am not in the habit of undressing strangers…'
'Cassandra,' she chocked out. 'Cassandra Penthaghast, of the Seeker Order.'
'Ah, a name. No longer strangers, then - is that an invitation for me to undress you again?'
'No!' she barked. 'Ugh. Men!'
'I was jesting,' he replied, smiling. 'Solas.'
'Just…Solas?' Cassandra asked. 'No clan name?'
'Do I look like one of the elvhen you call Dalish?' he shot back, arching an eyebrow.
She measured him over the rim of the dented tin cup. 'No,' she admitted, a second later. 'But you do not look like any city elf I have ever seen, either.'
'That is, perhaps because I am neither.' Solas shrugged. 'So tell me, Cassandra Penthaghast, of the Seeker Order, what were you seeking in that clearing last night? Other than some unfortunate to hit over the head, and drag into the bushes, that is.'
Cassandra bit her lower lip, hard. 'You saw what I saw,' she evasively answered; all her sense of ease had evaporated.
He nodded.
'So I did,' Solas replied, 'but simply seeing something does not bring me closer to understanding it. Your friend – and I am sorry for your loss – was probably on the holy mission of returning that unfortunate little girl to the mage prisons your Chantry calls circles. The others, I presume, were attempting to free her from that gruesome fate…'
'You are an apostate too, then.' Cassandra said, clenching her teeth.
'I prefer self-taught,' Solas smiled, thinly.
'That is why you lingered in the shadows, and did not intervene…'
'Partly,' he replied. 'The other part is that there were about forty of the other mages, and only two of you.'
'Well, apostate, you will be pleased to know that Byron was not taking that unfortunate girl, who, by the way, controls dragons, back to the Circle.' She growled. 'In fact, he was kidnapping her away from the Templars whose holy duty it is to do so. Before your fellow apostates attacked him, I thought… I thought that for some unfathomable reason, he was betraying us all…'
'By the manner in which he was killed, I do not think that he was.' The elf said, dryly.
She nodded, and gazed into the distance for a few long, silent moments.
'Why…' she whispered. 'Why save me, if you well know that it is my duty to…'
'Had I known what your precise duties were, I might have hesitated longer. But you have no power here, Seeker; in fact you are in my power. I can choose to leave you here to starve, if I so wish.'
Her pride bristled. 'You think you can do that? I've already seen that you can come and go as you please, there's nothing that…'
He chuckled. 'Lift your sword.' Solas said; the young woman frowned deeply. 'I mean it in all seriousness. Stand and lift your sword – take a lunge at me, if you like.'
Quick as lightning, Cassandra did just that; she did not reach for her sword though she merely grasped her dagger and jumped to her feet. The arrogance of the man deserved at least a scratch – who did he think he was, speaking to her as if she'd been an addled child…
He did not even move to parry, but, all of a sudden, her vision was stolen by a deluge of water, and she was deafened by a great, rumbling noise. Not magic, she thought, because she'd pushed against them with all her might and all her trained powers, and neither water storm, nor deafening noise abated. It did not matter – she knew where he was standing; once though the veil of whatever this was, she'd need no more than a heartbeat to regain her bearings.
Her dagger splintered against rock, and she was flung aside like a rag doll. The elf's shimmering barrier caught her before she could be truly injured, however, and, in it's gentle yet inescapable webbing, Cassandra looked up.
The cave monster from the night before was upon her again, a twenty foot pillar of sharpened, spinning rocks – a thing that needed no eyes to see, no ears to hear…And one of its limbs, that probably weighed as much as she did, was hovering menacingly above her. Another, sharper one, was an inch from her throat.
'Maker's Breath!' she whispered. 'What is…'
Behind the creature, the elf stood, and clenched his hands behind his back.
'That is a Varteral,' he said. 'In Elvhen, a guardian of that which remains. In plain terms, the reason why the mages last night did not dare come in here. It cannot be killed, or defeated,' he followed, as the monster withdrew towards its resting place in the pool, with heavy, lumbering steps. 'It can only be deactivated, and even that, only by one of the people. It will blunt any sword, and even fire spells will only cause it to temporarily stand down. Even scattered, it will rebuild itself in time.'
'The people?' Cassandra whispered, in a daze.
'Elvhen. Elvhen like me, who remember the language that was spoken when it was created. It does not eat, it does not sleep, and it is no mere trinket of the Children of the Stone, to be dismantled by removing screw and sprocket.'
The way in which the monster slowly sunk in its clear pool was mesmerizing, and the elf gently freed her of his web, by a wave of his fingers.
'In other words, Seeker, without me to pacify it, you cannot leave this place. But I can, and I presently shall…'
'To leave me to die?' she breathed, helplessly clenching the hilt of her dagger. 'After…you saved my life, you'd just…'
He frowned.
'To fetch the eggs I promised, and to award you privacy in bathing, and changing your bandages. Your shirt should be dry by now.'
'Can I bathe, with that…Vateral…in there?'
'Varteral,' he corrected, 'and, yes. It will not stir unless you attempt to leave the same way I shall. Or unless you step on his stones, as it were,' Solas grinned.
'You must let me leave,' Cassandra said. Of course, since her mouth was half full, it sounded more like ahm ma er mum eeve.
He frowned in disapproval, so she hastily swallowed – egg, and some herbs, rock salt from somewhere. Very good food; the Seekers' cantina could have used someone like this elf.
'You must let me leave,' she repeated.
'Of course I shall. Whenever you are ready to go.'
'You amaze me.' Cassandra said, setting her small wooden plate down in the moss. 'You must understand that it is my sworn duty to chase apostates, such as yourself…'
'I believe you have learned enough to weigh that sacred duty against sending all your brethren down here to die,' Solas shrugged. 'Only to find nothing – after you leave, I shall leave too. The thing I was here to find, the thing that the Vate'eraal was meant to protect is no longer here.'
She weighed the next bite on her fork.
'Someone stole it?'
'Or simply took it. I am not the only one of my kind, someone else could have controlled the guardian.'
'So you were not lurking in the bushes, waiting to be hit over the head, after all?'
'I do not cherish being hit over the head, no,' Solas responded, calmly. 'I shall nonetheless let you go as soon as you wish to leave – you are not my prisoner, and you know that any and all attempts at following me will only result in further loss to you and yours.'
'I don't want to follow you,' she whispered. 'By what was said last night, I can only gather that whomever those mages wanted to blame the Seeker Order for the kidnapping of the girl. The sooner I surface, and clear our name, the sooner…'
'Forgive me if I interject,' Solas said, 'but does it not strike you that you are eh, fifteen –'
'Twenty two!'
'And your political power rests on…'
Crap.
'…your skill with a sword and the virginal purity…'
'I am not a virgin!'
'Of course not, Cassandra. Of course you are not. I did see your breasts, after all.'
She threw the well cooked egg, the wooden plate and the rusty fork aside, and jumped to her feet.
'Screw you, I'm just going to…'
'We've not arrived at that point in our budding enmity.' Solas said. 'Think. I have indeed saved your life, and while your gratitude is underwhelming, I should not like you to die so soon after. You will return to Val Royaux with nothing but your word, and the word of an order disgraced – I foresee heads rolling. You will need proof that you did not take the child.'
'I cannot prove that I have not done something,' Cassandra grumbled.
'Which might lead someone older and wiser to the conclusion that you might need some proof of a conspiracy against your order before you do return to Val Royaux.'
'Well, I am not going to get that by sitting here, am I? I must go forth! Open the path…Oh, wait, Solas of no clan,' she said, narrowing her eyes. 'You are delaying me because there's something else you would like to tell me, isn't there?'
'Other than ask you, why, if you liked my eggs, you so cruelly tossed them aside?'
'I am never going to live the undressing part down, am I?' she sighed.
'It is you, not I that seeks innuendo everywhere,' the elf responded. 'I was merely remarking upon the pointless sacrifice of harmless birds, and at the fact that you do reinforce the feeling that humans cannot be grateful for what they are given or clean up after themselves. No, Seeker, I am slightly delaying you because if I were you, I would ask myself a few questions before departing.'
'Like…'
'Such as, if your friend took the girl from the Templars, how would the blood mages know where to find them both? This is not exactly the Imperial Highway – they knew precisely where he was heading, and the path he would take.'
Cassandra blinked, twice, forgetting all about the eggs.
'Val Royaux is a mere half hour's ride away. How did forty or more mages know that your friend had the girl, and assembled in that short a time?' Solas patiently repeated.
'Hah. Blood mages. Dragons – ergo, Tevinter. And, Tevinter speaking stones.' Cassandra proclaimed.
'Did my pointy ears deceive me, or were those mages not speaking Tevene?' he mercilessly returned. 'To me, they were speaking the common tongue, with Orlesian and Ferelden accents. No touch of Tevene. Not a single one of them cried Manaveris Dracona or some such nonsense. None of them had a blood slave, and more importantly, they were seeking the means to enslave a dragon, not worship it. No, they were not Tevinter mages.'
'But only Tevinter Magisters master speaking stones,' Cassandra said, softly.
The elf scoffed. 'No. The people mastered such things long before they did. The elvhen…'
'I understood what you meant by people, this time around.'
She slowly sat down, and somewhat apologetically collected her wooden bowl from the moss; hoping he would not notice her, she started to hunt the fork with her foot as well.
'You were looking for an ancient speaking stone. Something that belonged to the elves, a long time ago,' she slowly said. 'The thing that your stone guardian was meant to protect.'
He nodded.
'But your guardian only lets elves through.' Cassandra reasoned. 'These mages were all human, and all afraid of it. Someone else, someone like you, must have been down here before. You think that my enemies speak via these stones, too.'
'Yes.' Solas said. 'Still, the mages last night did mention that they had sent men down here. Perhaps one of them made away with my prize, leaving the others to their fate. I cannot know.'
'You still want your speaking stone back.'
'Just as much as you want your honour restored.'
'Ugh, can you talk plainly?' Cassandra grunted. 'Because that sounded like you wanted me to help you recover your artefact, and I don't have time…'
'I was actually saying that you need me to help you find your evidence, if our reasoning is correct.'
This time, she was truly taken aback. 'How would you do that?'
'The speaking stones,' he explained, crossing his legs, 'see each other all the time. Unlike in Tevinter, where humans have learned to protect their communication from each other, I highly doubt your enemies have mastered the artefacts of my people to the same extent. It would be very fortunate if we were both after the exact same stone, but even if we are not, if we find one, we will find all the others, and thus, the man – or woman – who set you up last night.'
'Your reasoning is fair,' Cassandra said, still sorrowfully shaking her head. 'But while I can pretend we've never met, I cannot work with an apostate.'
'Let me guess, your righteous sword will attack me on its own?' he smirked.
'No,' she frowned. 'You're right, someone did wish to harm the Seekers, and you are right, I cannot charge into Val Royaux on my own, not knowing who I shall be facing. If I let you help me…'
'…if we help each other…'
'…if we help each other,' she sighed, 'I will not be able to hide the fact that I have worked with you. No one will believe that a twenty-something, hot-headed fighter somehow mastered elven artefacts. Whatever good you will do for the Seekers, whatever kindness you have already shown me, we will have to take you to a circle. Not doing so would cast even longer shadows on our reputation, and I… I've already lost someone I regarded as a father and a mentor. I cannot lose my order, too.'
There was kindness in his gaze. 'You must be truly lonely,' he noted.
'Yes,' Cassandra tonelessly said. 'I am. And people of your sort have taken…'
'People of my sort?' he coldly asked. 'Elvhen?'
'No-no,' she rushed to respond, understanding that she had unwillingly injured him, though how, she did not know, 'blood mages…'
'I'm not a blood mage,' Solas said. 'Not all apostates are blood mages, Seeker.'
She did not truly hear him.
'Blood mages have killed my brother. Now, they have taken Byron. I…'
His light touch on her wrist caused her to look up in near fright. It was as though she had been talking in a dream.
'I am not a blood mage, Cassandra Penthaghast.' Solas repeated. 'But, I understand.'
He stood from her side, straightened and smiled.
'You will need to leave before I do, I'll open your path. I've also taken the liberty of…'
'You're certainly good with taking liberties,' she muttered.
'And you are very good at speaking out of turn,' Solas replied, sternly. 'You have a pack ready – some fresh shirts, a replacement for the dagger you destroyed, and enough supplies to last you a few days, if you are frugal. There is nothing that I could do for your armour, I am sorry.'
She smiled, despite herself. 'When did you have time to do all that?'
'Let us just say I was not particularly comfortable sleeping next to a mage hunter,' the elf shrugged. 'I knew you could not leave so…That should reassure you that I did not spend the night staring at your twin moons…'
'Ugh! Tell me that was not innuendo!' Cassandra angrily said.
'I am a man and have eyes,' he laughed. 'And I do imagine your chest looks much better healed then when first and last I saw it – yet, worry not! I am more into, eh…Shall we say, other curves? Placed lower on the female body.'
Her mouth hung ajar.
'Did you just say you don't like my arse?'
'Did you just say you cared whether I do or do not?' he shot back.
'You're insufferable!' Cassandra exploded, darting to her feet. 'I am happy we won't be travelling together – where's my pack? I will be glad to see the back of you. And that's not bloody innuendo, stop laughing! Maker!' she shouted, grabbing the small satchel he'd pointed to, and slinging it over her shoulder. 'Let me out of here.'
'As the lady Cassandra Filomena Nicoleta Florentina…'
'I'm going to punch you! Where, in the Maker's name, did you learn that?'
'Book I was reading, last night. The one that you thought I was twisting every which way?' Solas responded, still chuckling. 'Nevarran royal bloodlines are complex. I told you I don't undress strangers - your friend called your name, long before you hit me over the head.'
And, just like that, the light mood and the anger were gone; they both sensed it – the elf's eyes clouded with sorrow, so much so that Cassandra could have sworn they'd changed colour.
'I apologise,' he said. 'That was…inattentive of me. Come.'
She followed him to the stone wall, dragging her feet through the moss, and waiting until he'd fully turned around to wipe her tears off.
'Fen'Harel enasal enaste,' Solas said, and the well knitted rocks, as well as the curtain of vines that hid them slid aside, opening the passage. He, too, stepped aside.
'Fare you well, Cassandra,' he said – and she felt sorry to leave him behind, without…
'What do those words mean?' she asked, lingering between the dreamy cave, with its crystal clear pool and its deadly guardian, and the grassy, sunny hills that unwound before her.
'Something very few remember,' Solas said.
He stepped back, she stepped forth, and when it did occur to her that the man did deserve at least a thank you, there was nothing behind her but a stone wall – the face of a cliff. And he was gone, and…
She had no idea where she was.
'Waaait!' she shouted, at the rock. 'Solas, you can still hear me, come on! I know you're on the other side of that wall!'
'Yes.'
Cassandra could do naught but imagine he was rolling his eyes.
'Where should I be heading?'
'That greatly depends on where you are going.'
'No kidding!'
'…jesting…'
'Where should I be heading?'
'My way or every other which way. My way is a shortcut.'
And here we go :) Don't worry about Solas, he's only going to grow more in-character as this progresses. For the moment, I think he's just pushing Cassie's buttons because, well, she is funny. Thank you for reading and commenting,
Cheers,
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