A/N: updated
I reworded most of this chapter because I didn't like the way it flowed and wanted to add more substance to the conversations. Almost the same content, but hopefully a better read. I apologize for the additional update notification…it wouldn't let me "replace chapter," so I had to delete the old one and upload a new one. /sigh
Thank you all for your follows and reviews! Trying to get back into writing after nothing but hardcore science is difficult and time consuming, and I appreciate your support in indulging my right brain. :)
Anguish
Iron Bull was nursing a drink and playing Wicked Grace with Dorian when a horrible female scream of rage was followed by a large SMASH of the glass of a window being forcibly shattered. He shared a brief, alarmed glance of "what the hell was that" with his lover before they both quickly followed the crowd which rushed out to the courtyard in curiosity to find the source of the commotion. He could swear multiple cats were simultaneously in heat and fighting for their lives from the awful, vicious noises that continuously erupted from somewhere outside.
He brushed past the gathered crowd to find two women brawling at the center of it – they were on the ground, screeching obscenities as they clawed at each other, striking savagely in their desperate want to harm the other. Iron Bull was amazed to find the women were elves…Arya and Sera squabbling in the dirt of Skyhold's courtyard. Both were only armed with nails and fists as they ripped at each other. He recovered after only a few astonished moments and rushed to the pair, hoping to find an opportunity to pull them apart without damaging them further.
Arya was straddling Sera, her fingers locked around the blond elf's throat as she snarled, crushing her windpipe.. Sera clawed at the hands around her neck as she gasped, somehow managing to press her feet against Arya's chest before kicking forcefully, sending the mage flying backwards to land unceremoniously in the dirt. As she ran at Arya with fingernails at the ready, Arya sat up enough to hurl a fade boulder at the advancing rogue, sending Sera hurling backwards to land on her back with a huff as she struck the ground. Both of the women managed to stagger to their feet when Iron Bull had reached Arya.
"Arya! Stop! What is the…AHHHHHH" He howled in pain as he grabbed her, his hands blistering instantly from heat – Arya's skin was hot from her rage from her intrinsic ties to magical fire. She was completely oblivious to his cry and charged at Sera.
"Dorian!" Iron Bull roared, grasping his painful, trembling hand. Dorian's eyes hardened when he saw Iron Bull kneeling on the ground, anger now encroaching upon his bewilderment at the absurd scene. He turned to the fight and threw up a barrier between the two charging women. They blew apart from the force of his magic, falling roughly onto their backs and lay still in the dirt, spluttering and coughing desperately as they tried to recover, unsure of what just happened.
"What the FUCK are you two doing? Have you gone insane?" Dorian raged as he stomped toward them, his arms widened in his outrage, fingers sparkling purple in preparation for another intervention. Arya's eyes burned as she glared at the blond elf, whose own lips curled in a derisive sneer as she glared at the Inquisitor.
Both of the women's clothes were ripped and hung haphazardly around their bodies, exposing gashes caused from fingernails or teeth, with some wounds bleeding freely from residual pieces of glass. Sera sported a black eye and her nose was bleeding freely, her neck rubbed raw from being choked, and she stood unsteady on her feet, fists clenched. Arya's face was free of gashes, but her elaborate braids had become undone, and strands of hair were plastered to her face with blood and sweat as she snarled.
Dorian turned to Arya after assuring himself Sera was not going to initiate the fight again. His angry heart softened as he met Arya's gaze – he could see the anger melt from her face as her eyes cleared. He watched as her eyes widened with dismay, realization dawning as she frantically looked at gathered crowd and the damage they had caused…her horrified expression when she glanced from Iron Bull to Sera, whose face was livid as she brought her hand up to her streaming nose, wiping even more blood onto her arms.
Arya looked at her bloodied hands, which began to tremble as she stared at them in alarm. She looked up to Dorian, tears in her eyes, astonished. Her gaze shifted to the gathered crowd again, her face flushing crimson with her shame.
"What's going on here?" a female voice demanded in annoyance. Eyes turned to the source – Cassandra. The Seeker's aggravated expression transformed to one of shock as she stared at the scene - the two battered, bleeding elves separated by Dorian with Iron Bull kneeling on the ground, clutching his hand.
Dorian, reminded of his hurt love, took the opportunity to run to Bull, layering his hands with cool magic before taking the large Qunari's in his own, leeching the damaging heat.
"Bull…what?" Cassandra was flabbergasted, staring in amazement, not comprehending.
"Inquisitor?" she asked uncertainly when he did not respond, her eyes turning to Arya.
Sera had enough and began to shuffle angrily toward the tavern, but Cassandra interfered, grabbing the angry elf's bloody arm as she walked past.
"No…it's okay…let her go." Arya called softly. Cassandra seemed unsure, but did as Arya asked. Sera spat a thick glob of blood on the ground at Arya's feet before she stomped off without another word.
Guilt buckled Arya's shoulders forward as she tried to desperately ignore the crowd of dumbstruck faces staring at her, some with mouths open and agape.
"Come on, Arya…let's get you cleaned up." Cassandra's kind voice was shortly followed by a warm hand on Arya's shoulder. The touch snapped Arya out of her daze and she fled.
The crowd stood, staring at each other, at a loss for words.
"What the fuck just happened?" Dorian eventually asked, voicing the concern of the gathered crowd.
Cassandra's hand still remained raised from where Arya had retreated from under it. She turned to him, brows furrowed.
"I might be biased…but I think Sera's mouth finally got her into trouble we all knew was coming eventually."
Cassandra dismissed the crowd before running to the two men to confer.
Dorian knew where to find Arya, and was glad for her predictability in this matter: her sanctuary was an isolated place on top of the mage's tower. He did not want to intrude upon her privacy, but his worry for her outweighed his distaste at encroaching.
He had given her ample time to retreat to her room and be fussed over by Elsa, who he was sure would take good care of her – her brusque mothering of the Inquisitor was paradoxical to her intrinsic shyness, and he was glad Arya had such a person to keep her grounded.
The whispered conversation between Cassandra, Bull, and himself yielded no explanation. They were unsure of how to deal with the situation, and Cassandra even sought the counsel of Solas, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually they had decided to ignore the happenstance unless another incidence occurred.
It was late afternoon when he finally sought her out – the sun was just high enough in the sky so that one need not shield their eyes from the rays. Arya was curled in a ball on the parapet, arms wrapped around her knees. The keep's fluffy tabby cat sat next to her, standing sentinel for her mistress as they both stared across the keep, eyes distant. The cat turned at his approach, meowing a warning that they were no longer alone. Arya looked up in alarm at the intrusion, but relaxed when she saw him.
She smiled grimly at him in acknowledgment before resuming her stare across the keep. The cat trotted to him, winding about his legs as he approached Arya, purring loudly. He stood beside the elf who sat huddled on the stone parapet. The cat hopped up beside her and Arya petted her absently.
"Hey…sweet thing?" he asked tentatively, still unnerved by the day's event.
Her forlorn face turned to gaze at him, waiting for a verbal question. As he look at her, it took him a few moments to place why her face was alien to him. Then he gasped – her forehead was bare…the tattoos of her people gone. Was…was that even possible…?
Her eyes hardened when she saw the path of his gaze and she turned away. Dorian's embarrassment at his surprise was thankfully masked by her question.
"Is….is Sera okay?" she asked tentatively, staring.
"I imagine so. I heard some crashes and something rather imaginative curses coming from her room, so I assume that she is just venting." Arya buried her face in her knees.
"Iron Bull?" her voice was muffled.
"He's okay, too. I think he was impressed he got to witness a 'catfight', though it was rather more spectacular than that." he chuckled.
"I'm sorry, Dorian." She said, voice thick. His face grew somber as he brought his hand up to rest on her shoulder, where he rubbed lightly in encouragement, his thumb stroking the fabric.
"Sweet thing….what's" he paused, at a loss for words. "What's going on?"
She looked at him, her eyes lost.
"Oh, just…." She stopped, her eyes clouded as they became distant, her mind formulating.
"Shit." She grimaced. Dorian barked a laugh, reminded of Varric as Arya's eyes turned away, a slight smirk on her face. Keeping his hand on her shoulder, he reached out with his other and took her chin, cupping it gently as he brought her face into view for his inspection. She resisted only at first, but surrendered and allowed him to turn her face to his.
His eyes were wondering as he assessed her, intrigue emboldening him as his fingertips moved to caress her now unmarred forehead. She remained still, her trust of and love for him enabling such intimacy. When his eyes asked the question, her eyes filled and she turned from him in shame.
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to upset you…" Dorian said, distressed, letting his hand fall.
"No…you didn't, Dorian. It's not you…It's just that…" she sighed and then sniffed greatly.
"Ugh…I shouldn't have lost my temper. Sera's always run her mouth before, but now…I just saw red. I blacked out. I didn't know what I was doing." She grimaced and Dorian saw her fingers tighten in her robes.
"So…Sera being her usual self, then?" He asked. Arya laughed bitterly.
"She crossed the line I warned her to not cross. Not that it makes what I did any better, but…" she sighed heavily again.
"You started the brawl?" Dorian was surprised. Arya bowed her head and nodded slightly.
"Care to talk about it? Or would you like me to find Solas?" He noticed the tightening of her eyes and the look of anger and sadness that flashed across her face and guessed a source of her distress.
"I take it things aren't going well."
"You could say that." She spat bitterly. "I suppose you have noticed I am now without my blood writing."
"I did notice." Dorian said quietly.
"Yea, well…that was Solas. He explained what they meant. He explained how my ancestors would mark their own people with the vallaslin, their slaves, to honor their personal god. And my people have been marking themselves likewise for generations knowing, just knowing, that we were honoring our ancestors with our devotion to our gods, but NO. NO!" her outrage upset the cat from her lap, who hopped away in her annoyance. Arya's eyes followed her fluffy friend, speaking to her directly.
"We were wrong. Of course we were. So I didn't want to be a part of it. I didn't want to perpetuate a barbaric practice even though my clan might shun me for it if I ever get to go home. So Solas removed a part of me. And then some more."
"I would have been okay with losing such a noxious part of myself, but I thought he would be there to see me through it. But it's not, so…he doesn't want to be with me anymore." Her voice was thick, her words sour.
"I'm sorry, love." He said sincerely. She nodded in response, considering her next words.
"When I went to check on Sera as I do with you all to make sure you all are okay…she mocked Abelas. She mocked my people…the Dalish. Which, you know…I am used to…." Anger clouded her face and her next words were said with venom.
"But…she mocked my now bare face. After losing my heart…I lost control."
She snorted, anger draining from her face to be replaced by grief. "The worst part is…he won't tell me why he ended it. I…I don't know what I did wrong." She sniffed and wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt.
His heart broke for her, at a loss for words. He always knew Solas was rather callous, a candid individual. He was often upset at hearing his scathing words to Bull…but this…
His hand reached up to turn her face to his again. Her eyes were shining as she met his gaze, her brows furrowed. His eyes travelled her face, taking his time admiring her glorious features before he brought her forehead to his lips in a kiss, pouring his love and support for her into the gesture. She smiled wetly when he pulled back.
"You…you are so beautiful." He said, awed.
Her face broke as she spluttered a laugh before dissolving into tears. He pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried into his robes.
He allowed her to cry out in his embrace, trying to quell the righteous anger in his heart at the elven apostate. As if she didn't have enough heartbreak with the horrors that they all faced, doubt herself already…she didn't need this. It hurt him to see her so repaid for all the good she has done.
Her cries subsided after a while and she sniffed before heaving a great, defeated sigh. He chuckled, knowing that sigh was one of determined resignation. He kissed the top of her head.
"Does this mean you're ready for bed?" he felt her smirk.
"I guess. It's better than seeing anyone else today." She rubbed her eyes. "Gotta start the day fresh tomorrow. Gotta keep going…Gods know the damage control I will have to face for my public outburst. Joy…"
Dorian hugged her close to him.
"I'm here for you, my friend." Dorian said simply.
"I know, Dorian. Thank you."
Dorian's confrontation with Solas was ugly. He had managed to catch the apostate as he made his way back to his pagoda, water cup in his hand. He had closed the door to the Great Hall and angrily approached the mage before he began his righteous tirade, throwing dreadful, accusing words at the elf.
Solas's face hardened instantly as the human ranted, a cold mask descending as he listened for only a moment before turning away without a word.
"How could you do that to her?" Dorian fumed, chasing after Solas, grabbing his arm and roughly turning the elf to face him.
"How can you hurt her so? Don't you care for her? Did you ever care for her or were you just using her for you own gains? How dare you…" Solas's eyes blazed and he turned from Dorian yet again.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" The human roared, grabbing Solas's arm again. To his immense surprise, Solas threw Dorian away from him with such force that he crashed into the lantern that hung on the pagoda's wall. Before he could recover, Solas had advanced upon him, pinning him against the wall with an arm that shook with rage, lifting Dorian's feet clear from the floor in an astonishing display of strength. Solas's eyes burned with cold fury, his face hardening into a cruel mask as he snarled at the human, his teeth bared. Dorian clutched desperately at Solas's arm as he gagged, his air supply cut off.
Despite his vehemence, Solas's voice was a deadly whisper.
"You, Tevinter, have no idea of what you speak." The words were so cold that they drew in the very heat from the air, and Dorian found himself shivering against his will. He was afraid, held captive in the shadow of Solas's fury, overwhelmed by commanding, dangerously powerful magic. He could only cower under the force of Solas's gaze and strength as he struggled to free himself, growing weaker with each moment.
"So curb your ignorant tongue, lest I curb it for you!" Solas spat, his eyes menacing as they bored in Dorian's. Dorian stared back angrily for as long as he could before he felt his will weaken. He dropped his eyes in submission, ceasing the effort to free himself in his defeat. Solas released him then with another snarl and whirled as he stomped off, leaving Dorian to drop to the ground and cough, gasping as his air supply was suddenly returned.
"Then why?" Dorian croaked out as he regained his breath, almost pleading. "Solas…please" the elf halted at the tone, his shoulders stiff. "Solas…she's my friend. I love her. I don't want to see her hurt. Why…." His words were cut off by furious coughing.
He could see Solas considering from the way his shoulders began to relax. He turned slowly to face Dorian, his face unreadable save for his upturned and pursed eyebrows, the only feature that betrayed his despair. His steely blue eyes met Dorian's, who shivered involuntarily at the power he saw behind in them, but also...the profound hurt.
"I love her more than you can possibly conceive…." He said quietly. "More than…more than I ever thought was possible." Dorian was astonished to see tears forming in the Solas's eyes, who turned away before continuing.
"It is why I must not allow her any closer." The words were soft, seemingly uttered more as a reassurance than an explanation. Solas shook himself and his eyes became cold as he returned his gaze to Dorian.
"That is all the 'why' you shall ever know, for you lack the ability to understand." He growled.
"You do not know me, nor what I must do. What I have sacrificed. Do not presume to judge me, Tevinter. And do not ever speak to me about her again."
He left Skyhold without another word to anyone.
His bare feet unknowingly carried him to the small elven shrine at the outskirts of Skyhold, far removed from any human interference. His skin tickled with ancient magic as he breached the wards surrounding the place, feeling the familiar magic as it kissed his skin. He examined the grass between his toes as he walked, sighing with pleasure when the terrain morphed into moss covered marble, for the polished floor had long since been overgrown. He paused in attempt to enjoy the springy cushion of the plants against his soles.
The shrine was a small, eight sided gazebo that was rimmed on each face with a statue of an elven god, save for the entrance, which was open to the woods. Each statue was flanked by marble pillars, which were now cracked with age, weathered by the elements and copious plant life. Ivy wound its way around each column to burst through the roof, its vines now thick as branches in places. The statues themselves would only be recognizable to those who knew what each idol represented.
As his feet crossed the threshold, his heart lurched in his chest as he felt the faint, yet familiar aura of Arya that now lingered with the ancient wards, intermixed from when she added her own protection to the shrine.
He had brought her here after they had first reached Skyhold, hoping to please her with a place to worship. He had been surprised by her dismissal of the idea of prayer, and even more surprised in how she paradoxically paid respects to each of the gods in turn, including his own likeness of the howling wolf.
It was hard to keep from staring at her when she bent to kiss the wolf's head and murmur a traditional phrase of respect, petting it as thought it were real animal.
His feet carried him to the stone statue of Mythal.
"Aneth'ara, falon." He greeted it, running his fingertips across the worn stone lovingly.
He found it no strange coincidence that Mythal was her patron god. It had even unnerved him when he began to understand her unique power.
If she only knew…
He found he had fallen to his knees before the dragon idol, despair encroaching upon his heart with the thought of her, its ugly claws hungry and consuming. He felt his eyes burn. He shook himself before he bowed low, touching his forehead to the mossy earth in respect before he sat back on his heels, his mind brooding.
He was so close…so close to revealing himself to her. So close to giving up all he had promised himself he would achieve…all that he would set right from his own, stupid, prideful mistakes. So close to confessing everything…
All for her. For his consummate want and love for this mortal that challenged him in a way he never thought possible. For his joy at sharing his private life with her. For piquing his interest, for being…for being good. Righteous. A protector.
But…he couldn't. He had come so far…so much still depended on him. He needed to set things right.
But he had to tell her something as to why he brought her out that far into the secluded grove of Crestwood, a reason…and the only one his frantic brain could conjure was the truth in the error of a beloved tradition of her people.
And she was so beautiful without those cruel marks, even if they were Mythal's. It made her emerald eyes shine even brighter in the light of the clearing. So wise, so beautiful.
And his. His mate for the taking.
But as he pulled away from her sweet, wanting lips, he knew he had to leave them for good that instant lest she consume him utterly.
It was the hardest thing he ever had to do.
He pulled a small mirror from his pocket and conjured her image in it, cradling the trinket in his hands as though it were a tiny child. He usually hated the idea of scrying, feeling it an invasion of privacy, but he could no longer help himself.
She sat on her bed, eyes distant as her hands sewed a rip in a bloody shirt. As he watched her, heart hurting, she set down the cloth and stared out onto her balcony, eyes wet. She stared for a long time before she sighed deeply and resumed her work.
It took all of his willpower to not hurl the mirror in anger. In self hatred.
Even more than ever, he wished he could undo his mistake, rather than just make up for it….that he hadn't been so prideful. He needed his focus back, and he would have it soon. Then all would be made better. And she could be his.
"Ir solas." He spat the words, loathing, face contorted in a snarl. He brought the mirror to his face again, and watched her, his heart in a vice.
"Vhenan, ir abelas…" he told her softly, stroking the small trinket.
"Ar lath ma."
He buried his face in his hands and wept in deserving misery.
I was SO ANGRY at Sera for laughing at Abelas and when you return without your vallaslin. What a bitch. I wanted a "punch Sera" option right then.
Fen'Harel is rather wolfy when he rages, yes? :D
