Yeah, I decided to post this. Would've done it yesterday but I was out of the house most of the day so...
I really liked this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!
9 - Chuckles
Next day, Cassandra makes me attend a "Salon," whatever shemlen event that is, that I was invited to by a "First Enchanter Vivienne." I really don't want to go, longing for the stretch of wilds between Val Royeaux and Haven, but Cassandra insists.
"She may have contacts with the mages," is her argument.
The First Enchanter puts me on edge, not because of hostility but because of the way she holds herself. She is refined, speaks with purpose. In no way can I feel comfortable in her presence, mainly because I have the sneaking feeling that my ears will become an issue at some point. But I do not turn her down when she offers to join the Inquisition.
Needless to say, once we leave the walls of the city, I breathe the fresh air with relief.
"You did very well," Cassandra says. "We gained contact, no matter how small, with both the mages and Templars because of this."
"And two new comrades have joined our cause as well," Solas adds. It's the first time he's spoken since we met Grand Enchanter Fiona.
"Even if some are…questionable." Cassandra throws me a look and I know she speaks of Sera. I can't bring myself to blame her. She had been a bit hard to keep up with, since she had a tendency to jump back and forth between subjects with the slightest provocation. But, from what little I understood of her explanation, her "friends of Red Jenny" seemed useful. Taking down the "big people" in the name of "little people" who had no voice.
"What do you think of the First Enchanter?" I ask.
"It's good that you recruited Enchanter Vivienne into the Inquisition. She is ambitious but has always shown sense in her dealings with the Chantry." She hesitates. "My advice would be to watch her, but heed her when she speaks. That one wastes no words."
"Hm," I mumble.
Despite Cassandra's words of encouragement, everyone seems a bit subdued when we make camp that night. It doesn't quite feel like we had a victory at all, even if Cassandra keeps insisting otherwise.
The stories do not come, not even from Varric. Everyone merely eats and then sets off for bed.
My heart sinks lower and lower into my chest as the hours pass into days. I cannot stop my mind from wandering to the hopeless conversations that had taken place in Val Royeaux. No matter what Cassandra says, I failed, and everyone knows. The Chantry still denounces us. The Templars refused to talk with us. And the mages…who knows what motivations were hidden behind their contact.
The silence goes on for three nights. No one talks. No one looks me in the eye. When I sneak a glance at Varric, I catch him looking away. It makes my heart fall. Not you too, I can't help thinking.
Every night spent around the campfire in silence just confirms my fears. They think I failed. It's why they refuse to look at me. Why they refuse to talk to me.
On the fourth night, I find myself alone in the trees, letting the sorrow in my bones overtake me. I'm just far enough away that no one can hear me, something I'm grateful for. I cry for the life I've lost with my clan — I know, deep in my heart, I can never go back. I cry for all the lives lost in the last few weeks, even the shemlen.
I cry for the fact that, despite everything, I've come to care for these people that have surrounded me. Cassandra and the hidden softness behind her armor. How she loves and cares deeply. Varric and how he uses humor and tales to disperse the heaviest of tensions in the air. The charm that no one can help but fall prey to. And Solas. How his eyes light up when he talks of the Fade and his friend, Wisdom. How his words form a rhythm that hypnotizes me even when I try my best to hold myself together.
And I have failed them.
A small cough behind me lets me know I am no longer alone.
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. "Varric," I say, barely managing to keep my voice steady. "I'm sorry. I did not hear you approach."
He dismisses my comment with a wave of his hand. "You aren't exactly hard to sneak up on sometimes."
"How did you even find me?" I ask. My voice drips with more anger than I intend.
"Chuckles told me."
This makes the few tears still leaking from my eyes abruptly stop. "Solas?"
"Yeah."
"Was he spying on me, then?" I glare at him.
"I…don't think it was intentional. You know how he is. He always wanders off once we make camp. He probably heard you. Came back a few minutes after he left and said you needed a friend."
I scoff.
Varric sits next to me. "Listen, I know everything seems bad right now, but we'll get this sorted out."
I glower at him. "I failed, Varric. The Chantry still denounces us, the Templars have all but declared war on us—"
"Stop criticizing yourself. By all means, you did great. Especially for an elf who, by what I could hear you saying a few moments ago, didn't want to get all wrapped up in this human mess anyway."
"But, that's just it, Varric! I've failed not only the Inquisition, but my people! This could've been a great way for elves to finally get some recognition, and yet here I am, messing it all up for everyone."
He sighs. "None of us expected it to go smoothly. Cassandra has more faith in you than you realize. We all do. A few hiccups along the way don't really matter."
I say nothing.
"Come back to camp. Let's swap some stories, like old times."
I mop away the last few tears streaming down my face. "You honestly don't think I've failed?"
He laughs. "Nah. Humans are just more stubborn than you realize, especially when they don't want to admit they're wrong."
I laugh under my breath, despite myself. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."
"Forget about it."
"You always seem to know what to say to cheer me up."
"Like I said before, I have that affect on people." He helps me stand. "Come on. I think Cassandra said something about fixing your hair when you got back."
The lump in my throat has nothing to do with the leftover tears. "She never fails to surprise."
Varric nods with a chuckle.
Just as Varric said, Cassandra stands when I walk into the firelight. "Herald," she says, her voice weak with relief. "When Solas said you… Let me pull the twigs from your hair. Sit down."
I don't look at Solas as I sit, too embarrassed that he had heard me yelling at Mythal and cursing the Dread Wolf. I close my eyes and let Cassandra unravel my hair to pick out the debris. Varric does has he promised, delving into the Tale of the Champion where he had last left off.
It takes the rest of Varric's story for Cassandra to finish whatever intricate design she twists my hair into. I reach back, my fingers running over the braids and twists that tuck my hair up onto the top of my head. It feel strange, having my neck exposed to the cold wind. As I run my fingers over the back of my neck, where my hair usually hangs, I catch Solas quickly looking away when I glance at him.
"Why do you call Solas 'Chuckles,' Varric?" I ask. "I've always wondered."
Varric raises his eyebrows at me. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Obviously not," Cassandra sighs.
Varric laughs. "Because of his boundless optimism, of course."
Solas shakes his head. "It's comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you'll invent for me, Varric."
"No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?"
Solas ponders that for a moment. "When you put it like that, I must concede your point."
Varric winks at me. "And, of course, because I see how women look at him when he laughs. It's infectious."
Solas tries and fails to hide a smile.
"Even you look at him with those big, blue, puppy-dog eyes when he laughs, Herald."
I choke on the biscuit in my mouth. Heat crawls up my newly exposed neck. "I do not!"
Even Cassandra laughs along with Varric. When Solas joins in a second later, I purposely avoid looking at him. The heat has crawled up into my face, despite the teasing look Varric gives me. I frown at him anyway.
"Okay Varric, what would you call me if it wasn't 'Herald?'"
He stares at me for a moment. "Freckles."
"'Freckles?'" I squeak. I touch my face, look down at my arms. I didn't think my freckles were that obvious. My skin was just tan enough to make them near invisible.
"You know? I like it. You're Freckles from now on," Varric says.
I force myself not to look at Solas, who I can see out of the corner of my eye laughing into his hand.
"We should rest," Cassandra says, standing up. "We still have a few days of travel until we reach Haven."
Varric seemed determined, the next morning, to keep things friendly and light. Perhaps he realized that the night before had been the first time any of us had spoken to each other since leaving Val Royeaux.
"So, who do you think is the toughest: Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra?" he asks.
"I'm right here, you know," Cassandra sighs.
"That doesn't rule you out, Seeker."
"Cullen's not up for consideration?" Solas asks, voice curious.
"Curly? They just keep him around to look pretty."
I laugh. "True that," I say.
"You find him attractive, Freckles?" Varric asks.
"For a shemlen? Yes." I smile as I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "But no one holds a candle to you, Varric."
"Aw, you flatter me," he chuckles.
"Should I worry about how Bianca will handle that knowledge?"
"Always."
We all laugh.
I have avoided talking directly to Solas since Varric's comment the night before. Part of me had started to wonder just why he had said it. Had I shown some sort of interest in him that Varric had seen? Or had Varric just been trying to embarrass me? I try not to think too deeply about it and force myself to look at Solas.
"What made you start studying the Fade?" I ask. For some reason, I hadn't yet repeated this question since our last night in the Hinterlands. I'd been too enthralled with his stories about Wisdom to think of asking again.
Solas smiles at me, shifting slightly with his horse on the incline. "Well, Freckles—"
I scowl at him.
"I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined." His eyes soften, as they always do when he talks of the Fade. "I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome."
I look up at Cassandra, slightly surprised he speaks so openly with her near. "Did spirits try to tempt you?" I ask.
"No more than a brightly colored fruit is deliberately tempting you to eat it. I learned how to defend myself from more aggressive spirits and how to interact safely with the rest. I learned how to control my dreams with full consciousness. There was so much I wanted to explore."
The word "dreamer" comes to me suddenly. My Keeper had not talked much of them, nor their capabilities in the Fade. But this seems to be exactly what Solas is. It makes me suddenly envious. "I gather you didn't spend your entire life dreaming."
He sighs. "No, eventually I was unable to find new areas in the Fade."
This surprises me. His insights about the Fade seem to do that quite a lot, honestly. "Why?"
"Two reasons. First, the Fade reflects the world around it. Unless I traveled, I would never find anything new. Second, the Fade reflects and is limited by our imaginations. To find interesting areas, one must be interesting."
"Is this why you joined the Inquisition?"
"I joined the Inquisition because we were all in terrible danger. If our enemies destroyed the world, I would have nowhere to lay my head while dreaming of the Fade."
For some reason, this doesn't settle well in my stomach. He wants to save the world merely so he can keep dreaming? "Ah."
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Herald, that is why I joined. Not why I stayed."
The way his eyes hold mine makes my stomach flip. "Herald?" I repeat back. "Not Freckles?"
He smirks. "Fine. Shall I call you Freckles as well?"
"I—I mean, if you want. It's not the worst name in the world."
Cassandra interrupts then. "I've wondered: how did you know to approach us, Solas? The Breach opened, we were scrambling and barely had time to think…and there you were."
"I went to see the Breach for myself. I did not know you would be there."
"You must not have been far away."
"I was not. I'd come to hear of the Conclave, but did not want to get close."
"Hmm. Lucky for us, then."
Without him, surely I would have died.
"Well, Solas, I wish you luck," I say. "In finding peace to dream of the Fade."
He studies me for a moment. "Thank you. In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade."
"How so?"
"You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I."
I frown. "'Indomitable focus?'" Was my focus that unshakeable?
"Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated, not even when you were practicing your wards. I imagine that the sight would be…fascinating."
There is a great silence after that. I'm too busy trying to think of what he meant by the comment to notice.
Varric suddenly whistles. "Well shit, Chuckles. That was fairly…provocative."
Solas's words suddenly settle in my stomach in a different way. My neck grows hot again and I curse Cassandra under my breath for exposing it.
Varric laughs at me. "Look at our little Herald! She can flirt without batting an eye but Maker forbid someone else does. She can't take it!"
Solas seems a bit caught off guard as well, the tips of his ears pinker than before. "I had not—"
"I'm going to have to write that one down for one of the romances I'm working on," Varric interrupts. "Dominating an indomitable focus. Makes my chest feel all warm and fuzzy."
"Are you sure it isn't the chest hair?" Solas jabs.
"It's always the chest hair," Varric says, his fingers trailing through the tufts poking out of his vest.
And just like that, we're all laughing. I try not to dwell on what Solas had said. My neck is too exposed to keep those thoughts hidden.
Around the campfire that night, Solas is more open about the Fade despite Cassandra's presence. Her eyes show her concern but she doesn't interrupt. It is only when he goes quiet that she speaks.
"You say you've witnessed past events in the Fade, Solas—or the memories of them. But the Fade distorts reality. Surely it cannot offer a true reflection of what occurred."
"Are your own memories any different? The truth is never precise, regardless of where you are."
She goes quiet then, presumably lost in thought. She does not tell more stories about her past and I can't help but think that his words have cut her deep.
I am surprised at the relief I feel when we reach Haven. I'm not looking forward to updating everyone on what happened in Val Royeaux, but it's a necessity I cannot avoid.
Varric goes to his campfire, settling down and inclining his head as I pass. Solas seems to avoid making eye contact with me as he sets down the path toward his cabin. Cassandra nods at me, motioning for me to follow her.
"Might as well get this over with," I mutter under my breath.
