Notes: From here on out, just assume this part is an apology for not updating sooner.
Chapter 21: Sail Away
That night, surrounded by sleeping bodies, I find myself unable to join. I haven't slept in nearly two days; I should be exhausted. It's damp and cold down here, but that's not what keeps me awake. My mind runs circles around the events of the day. Every time I close my eyes, I see Drustanus' face… the naked fear there right before I killed him. It reminds me of another time, after Ghillie was murdered. I couldn't control myself then, either. The only one who could stop me was… him.
It happened again, Solas.
I wish, more than anything, that I could talk to him right now. He would understand. He'd know just what to say to lessen this horrible ache in my chest.
I rub at it and sigh with frustration. I glance to my left where Fenris is fast asleep. Most people look younger when they sleep, but not Fenris. He looks like he could be ready to fight in an instant. I'm the same way, I suppose, just for different reasons.
I sit up and look around. I'm not going to be sleeping any time soon, so I may as well relieve one of the people on watch.
A short while later, I've taken up post in one of the tunnels. The darkness stretching out before me fits rather well with my current mood, actually.
I hear heavy footfalls behind me and turn to look. It's Crooked Horn. I sit up straighter in surprise.
"Hey," I greet. "Can't sleep either?"
"No," he replies and sits down beside me. It's quiet for a while. "Rhynn?" he asks softly, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"Why did you save me?"
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "I couldn't just leave you behind."
He frowns. His dirty white hair flops over his eyes, obscuring them. "I tried to kill you. Twice."
I raise an eyebrow. "And I tried to kill you. What's your point?"
He looks at me, then. It's hard to tell what color his eyes are in the gloom, but they look pale. "You had no reason to trust me." Quieter, almost inaudible, "I wouldn't have trusted me."
I watch him, thoughtful. "The truth is, you remind me a lot of myself," I finally admit. "Which makes me sound a bit egotistical, but there it is."
He hums, pondering over that. "I heard you slaughtered that group at the brothel," he says bluntly. I don't flinch at the directness. His tone is matter-of-fact, not judgemental.
"I did," I confess.
"Good."
I do flinch then. "You might not be so quick to say that if you'd seen it happen…"
"Was it brutal?"
"Very."
"Good," he repeats vehemently. "Their kind deserves to suffer." He says it with a faraway look, full of old pain.
"Probably," I concede. "I just don't like myself when I get like that. It's like I'm trapped in my own head…"
"Watching as something else takes control of your body," Crooked Horn finishes and we look at each other.
"Yeah… exactly."
He understands. Suddenly, my chest doesn't feel so tight. Almost without thought, words spill from my mouth. About little Ghilani, about times before Thedas when I felt that all-consuming anger… And he listens. Just listens. I keep glancing over, expecting to find him asleep. But he's always looking back, pale eyes calm. I think I'd be a bit distressed by my uncharacteristic candor if it weren't for the overwhelming sense that he gets it. When it's his turn to talk, I know he does. We only talk about the anger, nothing more, but it's more than I've told a relative stranger in… well, ever, possibly.
When the conversation ends, we sit in comfortable silence. I don't even realize I've dozed off until Crooked Horn is gently shaking me awake.
"Oh crap!" I slur, rubbing at my eyes. "How long was I out?"
"Only a few hours," he replies. "Do not worry. I kept watch in your stead. You appeared to need the rest." He pauses, then gives me a sliver of a smile. "It will be our secret."
A few hours later, we are at the Aubericus estate gathering our things. Though we spent a long time scoping the place out to make sure it's safe, I still find myself jumping at every noise. I quickly stuff all my clothing in a bag. I almost leave my scar-covering makeup behind, but end up tossing it in as well. Just in case. I strap my violin and bow back into their case, checking to make sure my guns and journal are in there, too. At the last second, I change into the one nerdy shirt I brought to Tevinter. Then I put on Dad's jacket, grab my belongings, and go back downstairs.
Fenris is already waiting, his one small bag slung across his back. Crooked Horn leans against the wall nearby, running a rag over his dagger.
"Altan and Aurora best hurry, or I will leave without them," Fenris grouses, pacing.
"No you won't," I say with a grin, coming to a stop beside him. He rolls his eyes.
"How…" Fenris starts and I glance over at him. He's looking down at the floor. "How are you?" I stare at him in surprise. He glances up and scowls, ears turning pink. "Altan told me what happened at the brothel," he says defensively. "It sounded… not ideal."
I sigh and set my violin case down. "That's one way of putting it…" I reply bitterly.
"You did what had to be done."
"Maybe… Just to an unnecessary excess," I say. "Again."
A sound from nearby has me glancing over at Crooked Horn. He has resheathed his dagger and is watching me. He nods and I return it. I think about the conversation we had this morning. It occurs to me that I've had multiple people express concern for my wellbeing over the past two days. Altan and Magnus, Crooked Horn and Fenris… All showing something almost like… affection?
It is affection, you asshat.
Something warm blooms in my chest. Objectively, I knew they gave a damn about me, but I've always been an idiot when it comes to relationships of any kind. Even before the years of isolation, horror, and insanity. Realizing I have even more people who care about me is a bit of a shock. A nice one.
I look at Fenris again and give him a playful jostle. "Thanks for asking, though." He just shrugs, but the corner of his lip twitches.
Altan and Aurora join us shortly and we're off once again. Isabela and her ship await.
What awaits us on the docks is something I should have foreseen. We had almost reached the ship. I can see the gangplank about twenty feet away. But then someone in dark robes steps into my line of sight.
"Going somewhere?" A deep, smooth voice rolls out from under the hood. My hand goes for my dagger and I glance around. Somehow - magic, probably - a group of robed figures has us surrounded. I look back at the man who spoke. He pushes back the hood and the face beneath is familiar. Just yesterday, I wiped that same smarmy smirk off another man's face and I would bet money that the man before me is Drustanus' father. "You know who I am, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."
Mages surround us; Isabela is nowhere in sight. To my right, Fenris' tattoos begin to glow. On my other side, Crooked Horn already has his daggers unsheathed.
"My name is Cyril Drustanus. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." Well, shit. He doesn't simper the way his son did, I'll give him that. He almost sounds sincere, actually.
"Mm, ditto," I reply tersely, eyes darting to and fro. I cannot see a way out of this, not without using my powers.
"You can have no doubt as to why I am here," Cyril continues.
"Actually, I can," I bite out, busy trying to find a way out of this. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"Come now. You don't seem like a simpleton." When I just keep staring him down, he smiles. "You killed my son? I doubt you've forgotten."
"He was holding a friend of mine hostage," I reply.
"You are a dangerous individual… Rhynn, wasn't it? Palaemon took the necessary precautions."
I narrow my eyes. "Your son knew my name, too. Why is that?"
Cyril laughs coldly. "You don't know?"
I channel Alan Rickman when I drawl, "Obviously."
"There's a book about you, Rhynn Torpin," he says with vindictive humor.
A frisson of shock bolts down my spine, making it rigid. I stare blankly, mind racing. "I'm sorry, what?" I gasp. It's not that I didn't know that, I just didn't think people here would have read it. Or be so interested...
"By one Varric Tethras."
"Fasta vas, dwarf," Fenris hisses under his breath.
"Okay... Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll be going." My voice is a bit too high, but hopefully he won't notice.
"I do mind, though. You murdered my only son. I cannot abide." Cyril Drustanus' hands begin to glow as he reaches for his staff.
"I had no choice!" I insist, panic starting to nip at my heels.
"If what they say about you is true, you did have a choice. You did not need to end his life." His eyes are so cold… I know he has every intention of killing us all, just as I know he won't get the chance. I don't want to do this, though. Not again.
"Please, just take your people and leave. I don't want to kill you too." How many more slaughters before I lose my mind again?
But Cyril Drustanus answers with a bolt of fire.
I raise my hand and the fire stops in mid-air. While the others gasp, Cyril gives a lupine smile. Despite my abilities, I feel like nothing more than a hare about to get its neck snapped.
The next few moments are a blur as fighting breaks out between our two groups. We are desperately outnumbered. Altan quickly casts a shield and starts flinging spells. Crooked Horn hurls his dagger and it plants itself between the eyes of a mage just as he's about to cast. Fenris bolts forward at an impossible speed, phasing right through another mage. She crumples to the ground.
As much as I don't want to, I need to end this like I did at the Archon's Hat. I focus and it's like a rubber band pulling taut. The world goes quiet.
I step forward, dagger at the ready… and Cyril moves to meet me.
I stagger back, gawking at him. "What- how did- what the fuck?!" Everything around is starts moving again in the wake of my shock.
"I will cherish the look on your face until the day I die," he whispers sadistically. "You thought you were untouchable, didn't you? How arrogant. You are not the only one capable of time magic."
I recover quickly, pushing down the panic. "Well, duh," I counter sarcastically. "That was one of the main plot points of Inquisition."
He falters for only a second, then glares. "Are you ready to die, Rhynn Torpin?"
I laugh in his face while shifting my grip on my weapon. "Good luck with that."
I arc the blade toward his throat at the same time as he sends an ice spike toward my eye. Neither of us manages to land the blow. A blast of magic sends us flying apart.
"Enough!" A voice booms. From my position sprawled on the ground, I see fine black boots first. The dark blue robes on top are just as nice. The facial hair is impeccably trimmed. It's a face I've seen only once before, but it left an impression nonetheless.
"Hello, Octavius," I greet with a grin. "Finally made up your mind? Took you long enough."
One perfect eyebrow lifts condescendingly, but he doesn't look away from Cyril.
"This is beneath you, Cyril," Octavius sneers. Cyril stands and dusts himself off with as much dignity as he can.
I sit up and a hand is proffered to me. I look up into the face of Dorian and smile wider.
"Comfy?" he jokes. I take his hand and he pulls me up. "Sorry I'm late. I had to call on some friends." He jerks his head and I look behind him at the new group. A stately woman with short, blond hair stands at the fore. Behind her is a significant number of people who seem like they might be magisters. I look past them and blink in shock. I recognize a number of the slaves that I saved from the arena, teeth bared and weapons drawn. A few nod at me. Numbly, I nod back.
"Cyril Drustanus," Dorian says, turning away from me to look down his nose at the man. "I think you will find that you are no longer in the majority, in this fight or in the Magisterium. I suggest surrendering peacefully. I would like to make it home in time for supper." He sounds utterly bored and I can feel my smile returning.
With a burning glare, Cyril lays down his staff and surrenders. The remaining mages of his group follow suit. A cheer goes up amongst the former slaves as Dorian's allies begin detaining Cyril and his cohorts. Dorian throws me a self-satisfied smile and I give him a grateful one in return.
"How did you know?" I ask him.
"Your saucy little pirate friend barged in on a very important meeting, saying something about how Hawke was going to murder her if the elf dies," Dorian replies in a highly amused tone.
"I'm just glad we got here in time," Isabela says, emerging from the crowd. "You're lucky I hadn't left yet." She walks over and slings an arm around Fenris' shoulders. He shrugs her off, but she just puts it back. She winks at me. "You've been busy," she observes, gesturing at the group of freed slaves.
I shrug and rub my forearm. "Thanks for getting backup," I say awkwardly.
"You're welcome, gorgeous. Now, I have been on land for much too long."
"A whole three days," Fenris mocks. She pinches him hard and he glares at her.
"I don't know about the rest of you," she continues, "but I'm ready to leave this Maker-forsaken place in my wake."
It takes some time to load everyone on the ship and ready it to sail back to Kirkwall. A portion of the freed slaves elect to go with us, but most decide to stay in Tevinter and help the Ferrymen. Before they leave, the whole group surround Fenris and me and thank us profusely. They give Crooked Horn a wide berth, though.
"When I saw you standing across from me in the arena, I almost laughed," one burly guy says to me. "Then I blinked and it was over. Never thought I'd thank someone for stabbing me!" he chuckles. A murmur of agreement ripples through the group.
After a bit, a couple of Ferrymen approach and escort most of the group back down into the tunnels. I watch them go with a bittersweet feeling.
"Things are going to change," Dorian says with conviction, stepping up next to me. "Tevinter is going to change. I will make it so."
"Not to sound cheesy as hell, but if anyone can do it, it's you." I grin and turn to him.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and gives them a squeeze. "Not to sound equally as trite, but I could not have done it without you."
"This is nauseating," Fenris grumbles and moves to leave, but Dorian stops him.
"The same goes to you, my friend," he says and extends a hand. There's a long pause before Fenris clasps Dorian's forearm.
"Do right by these people," he says simply and lets go, walking away to board the ship.
"Damn…" I sigh. "Really wish I'd had a camera for that."
Dorian, used to my strange quips, just laughs. "Yes, I feel as though I've been blessed," he jokes.
"Best of luck, Dorian," I say sincerely.
"To you, as well," he replies. I pat him on the shoulder and follow Fenris.
Altan, Aurora, and Crooked Horn are already waiting for us and we soon set sail.
The journey back is a calm one. I spend a lot of time talking with Crooked Horn. I tell him more about my travels and he gives me snippets of his own story in return. When I don't feel like talking, I sit quietly with Fenris. I ask Altan and Aurora about their plans and they tell me they want to stick with me for now.
Dinners are raucous affairs, filled with wine and celebration. I play my violin and people sing and dance. It's a pleasant distraction and I enjoy it while it lasts.
Notes: I know less than nothing about Tevinter politics, so... yeah. That said, this chapter concludes the Tevinter part of this story. Where are we off to next?