TRIGGER WARNINGS: Implied Past Suicide Attempt


Skinner stared at Dalish in front of her, watching closely as she watered down the broth even more. She looked back questioning. Skinner nodded.

"They'll be nothing left of the broth if I water it down anymore." Dalish grumbled.

"She has to keep it down." Skinner hissed and leaned back as Dalish continued until she signaled. The broth was less broth and more stock flavored water that the girl would have to sip every two hours. Slowly they'd thicken over the first few days until she could take actual broth and then eventually solids. But that was a long way from now. For right now, they just needed to get something in her. She was fading fast after the soldiers nearly sent her into shock by giving her too much food.

Now they had to work doubly fast with the healers. Start off small and work their way up to normal food while getting them moving. A process Skinner was too familiar. Dalish didn't want to know why. Though she could guess, given the tight look Skinner had that only made an appearance when she thought of the alienage and what the nobles used to do to the elves.

Dalish had never thought shems would treat their own like this. But then again it wasn't a shem who ordered this. She looked up toward the platform atop the stairs overlooking the courtyard.

The Inquisitor hovered ahead, looking down into the courtyard at the makeshift infirmary, aware of the return of their guest. A guest that had been conveniently left behind during the escape of Haven.

Quelling a shiver, Dalish turned away as the Nightingale strolled up behind the Inquisitor, calling the elf's attention and drawing them away toward the War Room, or so she guessed.

Dalish never expected an elf to turn human levels of cruelty onto humans. Long ago she would have thought it appropriate but now. Now being privy to the horrors of its effect... the damage and scarring left behind - mentally and physically - she didn't wish it on anyone. Which brought up another matter entirely, the Chief.

The Iron Bull had left the chargers at the infirmary, called away by one look from the Nightingale at their return. Initially she thought it was a secret meeting to be had, until Dalish spotted the Commander strolling after them and the Inquisitor as they drew into the Keep. A meeting that the chargers wouldn't be privy too, well except for Krem.

Krem was speaking with the soldiers, far away from the infirmary about where the items they salvaged from Haven should go. Many of the soldiers just did as he told, after nearly killing the girl by trying to feed her. Leave it to the Shems to further complicate the girl.

"Dalish, she's awake. Bring the broth." Stitches called from the tent closest to the fire. She carried it in, Skinner following after her.

With a wooden spoon Dalish tried to feed her but the broth dribbled out. "Come on." Dalish muttered beneath her breath.

Skinner grabbed the spoon from here. "Like this." She trickled a few drops into the girl's parched mouth and angled her head back so it would slid down her throat. Her grip far more gentle than Dalish had ever seen.

The travel from Haven to Skyhold had been harsh on the girl. They had given her nothing but hot tea and broth, the latter of which had been too much for her malnourished and shrunken stomach. They didn't know how long she'd been without a proper meal but from the look of the Chantry's dungeon remains where they found her, it had been several months.

Grim had been the one to find her. Whilst tracking bloody footprints, he'd come upon the remains of the Haven Chantry, buried in snow, debris, stones, and downed trees. It was precarious to venture further but the footprints led there, further into the Chantry and down where an injured wolf lay, half torn up.

That was all Grim had been able to signal about before he led Krem and the others there, where the scene of empty boxes, barrels, and the smell of months old frozen excrement were beginning to melt. Signs of someone living there led them to the passageway they had escaped from almost three months ago. Amidst the remains of boxes, dried deep mushroom, and the remains of several rats was a pale waif of a girl bundled in blankets, and every scrap of cloth and stuffed with crumpled papers.

They thought her dead until she gave one shuddering breath.

Stitches hadn't been with them, but a meager field cleric used to patching up battle wounds not treating long term starvation, sores, and malnourishment. They almost killed her out of mercy until Grim found the book. Her journal.

Over one hundred ninety entries. At first they were detailed introspective accounts of her first few days after the avalanche. She detailed her efforts to find an escape route, and then the amount of food left behind. She kept track of her stores and how long she estimated they would last her. Faint hope that maybe she would last for the Charger's eventual return to Haven.

Though how she knew they would return was puzzling.

There were entries in between where she doubted they would return given what the Inquisitor had done to her. Kept calling the Inquisitor a red hawk. But those doubts were squashed with almost fervently written "They will come. They will come. I will make sure of it" in a different script.

Several entries after that, there were splotches of dark brown-red liquid as though splashed. A scribbled "I'm sorry." was all that was written and then several blank pages. Then the entries began again.

There were two scripts, two sets of handwriting and yet only one person was found.

It was the soldiers who questioned whether putting her out of her misery was better. Skinner stopped all discussion on that. Grim followed suit with a grunt. The two of them became the girl's — who they still didn't know her name — protectors. On the journey to Skyhold they combed through the book, to find anything more about her but the entries grew shorter, the script erratic and the styles melded until the second set was the most prominent.

There was more brownish red splotches along the edges and the script took on the same tone, as though they ran out of ink.

Krem confiscated the book when Grim spent a whole evening punching a tree inconsolable.

At Skyhold's forward camp, the girl woke up enough to speak. Iron Bull met up with them after returning from Crestwood with the Inquisitor.

Dalish will always remember the scream. The pleading sobbing no's from the girl. She hadn't been able to move, too weak then but she made an effort — too much of an effort. Her arm broke, and her throat became raw and she spat blood, choking on it. Dalish had to cast a sleep spell on her.

Now she was unconscious and Bull was nowhere near. Dalish prepared another watered down broth, this time a bit thicker and some hot tea.

"When was the last time she went." Skinner asked Stitches. Her voice even. Not angry, not sad - just numb.

"Not yet." Stitches was mixing a special poultice for the sores on the girl's back and legs. Once those healed, it may be easier for her to move. Help her build up her strength so she can walk again. Anything to ease the pain she was in. "There's a bed pan beneath her cot."

"Hmm." Skinner nodded as she trickled more broth down. Every few hours someone had to feed her. Either broth or hot tea. At least for the first few days, increasing the thickness and meat content and sugar. The healers had their own patients, amputees and those injured in battle. This was different. The girl required constant care for at least a month and then a watcher to ensure there was no drastic measures taken by her hand.

"Dalish, give her a wash down when Skinner is done." Stitches ordered. "Her injuries need to be cleaned before the poultice can be put on and bandaged."

"I will help." Skinner stated, arms folded as she set the bowl on the workspace. Her tone indicating there would be no fighting, not that anyone would. She fetched water.

"Skinner," Dalish prodded her when she wouldn't answer as they stripped the bandages off the girl's arms.

"Hm?"

"Are you…" Dalish looked down at the girl, who slumbered while they carefully removed her clothes. "You've been quiet. Is it because of her?"

"Yes." Skinner's reply was quick, terse but her hands remained gentle as they worked the makeshift cast off the girl. At Dalish's continued stare, Skinner sighed. "The nobles in the alienage often withheld merchants from selling to us. Sometimes, we would go weeks without more than one meal. It resulted in some of our elders sacrificing their meals to the young."

"Did it get this bad?" Dalish swallowed.

Skinner stared at the grey taut skin, mottled and splotched with bruises as they revealed her hands. Jagged scars of scratches covered across her arm. They turned her arms and the dark deep red scar down her inner forearm had them both still.

Skinner remained silent.

"She doesn't want you to see."

Dalish and Skinner jumped at the perched brown clothed figure on the barrel in the corner of the tent. His large hat covered his face but he looked up. Glistening blue eyes with wet tracks down his cheeks, matting his blonde hair in clumps.

"Who are you!" Skinner grit her teeth, dagger already flashing as she stepped in front of the cot to hide the girl.

"I-" He choked on words as the girl stirred in the cot, shivering. "I'm Cole." He huffed, strained as he wiped at his eyes wetting the shredded ends of his sleeves. "She doesn't want you to see, she's sorry. She made a mistake. She doesn't want anyone to see." He pointed to her arms, shaking as more tears tracked down his cheeks and dribbled to his dirt covered shirt.

"I know you. You're the Spirit the Inquisitor recruited." Dalish held her hand out to push Skinner back, but she needn't have as the other elf was covering the girl, ignoring Cole.

Cole blinked, causing droplets to fall off as he leaned forward. The tears disappeared mid-air, their purpose of expression void. "Yes." He sighed, disappearing from his perch and then popping next to Dalish. Dalish had to hold her magic back as she hissed at him, wary of his presence.

"So the Inquisitor trusts you?" Skinner grit. If the Inquisitor trusted him and ordered the girl's treatment...

"I didn't know. I didn't know." Cole's pleading was warbled between held back sobs as he sniffed and leant over the blanket, staring at the girl. "Her name is Cosette."

"You can hear her?" Skinner looked up.

"Yes."

"Stop talking to it." Dalish warned Skinner. "It's a demon."

"Just like you're not a mage?" Skinner snapped back.

"No. I'm Cole." Cole spoke up at the same time. Both elves looked at him, unnerved.

"If he can help us learn more about her?" Skinner looked at Cole for confirmation. "Why not?"

"I don't trust him." Dalish muttered as Cole stepped around the bed. Her hand up, sparking a fire. It flared wildly and she yelped as it burned through her aura and singed her hand.

"Dalish!" Skinner jumped and grabbed her hand.

"It's just a burn."

"But how, you never lose control."

"I know." Dalish glared at Cole but he was now hovering over Cosette, fingers reaching out to trail just over the raised scars of her forearm. "Hey."

"Forget." He muttered once.

"Step away."

"Forget," It was twice now.

Dalish moved around, ignoring her pain and reached out to arcane push Cole but he looked up into her eyes.

"Forget," thrice like a mantra and the veil shimmered. Dalish remained rooted in spot.

"What did you do?" Skinner wary, tried to poke Dalish to get her to react.

"I made her forget me."

"Why?"

"She thinks I'm a demon, like the first of her clan."

"Are you?"

"I used to be."

"Used to be?" Skinner shifted, daggers heavy in her palm.

"I'm not anymore. If I do… If I hurt people again, they'll stop me."

"You hurt Dalish."

"I tried to help."

"You made her forget."

"Only me. And…" Cole looked down. "You understood. She didn't. She wanted to tell."

"What?"

"The scars. Shame, weak, forgive. Forgive me. It hurt so much." Cole knelt close to Cosette again. His eyes closed and he opened himself and looked. The veil howled, the fade tinted and blended with color. The world was vibrant and bright. A wispy veil pulled at Cosette, drawing her closer to the fade but parts of her clung to this side. Jagged writhing screams punctuated and stretched the veil. Seams unstitched and it gaped and gaped into a void.

"Guilt?" Skinner asked. Cole nodded. "I won't tell anyone." She meant it.

"Don't let anyone see."

He was gone, whether he'd truly been there, Skinner wouldn't know for sure. But she understood. Her fingers traced the faint faded markings of her own scars. Starvation had been common in the alienage, but captured and starved on purpose by the Nobles - was something else.

When Dalish snapped back, she had her warm the water again, but she warned to be careful with her magic. There was something off around Cosette.


Cole hadn't gone far. He was still there, watching - hovering. He couldn't tear himself away from her. For every breath that wracked her chest, was a sob for him. Tears manifesting as he felt her pain for her. She had no tears available to shed but it hurt for her to not express it and so it pained him. It curled inside of him and festered until he sobbed, eyes red rimmed as they reset her bone and poultice and bandages once again covered her.

He remained longer than he should have. Yet if he should want to leave her side, he would only hear her. Her pain, her suffering was loud, drowning all others out - even his own.

His breath stuttered at the thought. Eyes shut, head ducked - he pressed his palms against his chest, heaving. He could have saved her. He could have saved her. Left behind. Waking alone in the dark — scared, isolated, alone — alone. Alone. Forgotten. Starved. Dead.

Cole breathed sharp. "NO!" He cried and stumbled away. He wasn't the same. He wasn't. He thought she would... He sobbed as she breathed. He couldn't — couldn't.

He did this, he could have stopped this.

"Cole." The bright spot stepped to him as he crouched against the stone walls of the Skyhold. "Are you okay?" The Inquisitor knelt. Cole had to stop seeing to see them.

"It hurts. She hurts." He muttered.

"Who?" Ellana asked and he pointed toward the tent. "Oh…" Her shoulders slumped but she stepped closer. "How is she?"

Cole whimpered but he opened and looked. Only he gasped, back straight as the light cleared and the Inquisitor was no longer bright as the gaping veil swallowed it up. He could see - could hear and-

"You." Cole's mouth gaped open.

"Me?"

"You...don't care." He muttered. "You did this to her. You don't care about her, about people." He leapt to his feet and advanced. His friends ached wanting to weep.

"Cole. The Inquisition has done some things that might look-"

"NO!" Cole shouted. "You. Don't. Care About. People!" His anger flared and for a moment, he almost reacted. Almost let his friends weep and sob like he wanted to. Instead, he stepped back. "Forget."

"Cole I-" Ellana tried but a second later she didn't know what she was saying.


REVIEWS:

adelphe24: Thank you! I'm trying really hard to write him just right.