Note: Here it is. For better or worse…

Also, Rhynn and Solas: sarcasm-and-cynicism dot tumblr dot com/ post/ 131789060679

(remove the spaces and replace 'dot' with '.')

Disclaimer: I only own like three characters in this whole thing. Now two… *cringe*

And all the kids cried out,
"Please stop, you're scaring me"
I can't help this awful energy
Goddamn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?

-Control by Halsey

Chapter 36: Burn Me

"So," I begin as I go about organizing the clinic's potion stores. "Tell me, small child. What do you like to do for fun?"

The boy finishes folding another rag and places it on top of a growing pile before frowning at me. "My name is Ghilani. You know that."

He says it so maturely and with such world-weariness, I have to practically bury my head in the box in front of me to hide my smile. "I'm sorry, sonny," I make my voice sound frail. "I'm afraid my hearing's not what it used to be. Gillard, you said?"

He huffs. "No. Ghilani."

"Griffon?"

"No!"

"Gabby?"

"Ghilani!"

"Gwenifred?"

At that, he giggles. Mission accomplished.

"No, Ghillie," he emphasizes each syllable.

"Ah!" I exclaim, spinning on my hind end to face him, arms splayed wide. "Ghillie! Why didn't you say so?"

He rolls his eyes so hard, I hear the voice of my father in my head saying 'They'll get stuck that way.' "You're weird, hahren."

I grin and lean back on my hands. "This I know. So, are you going to answer my question?"

"Well…" Ghillie looks thoughtful. "I like playing pretend with my friend, Naril."

It's good to know some nice things stay constant. "I used to love doing that. What kind of stuff did you pretend?"

"Sometimes we pretended to be hunters and tried to track animals, but we weren't allowed to use a bow so we never caught anything." Ghillie's eyes light up suddenly. "Oh! Except, one time, we caught a frog and took turns hiding it. Mamae found out and made me let it go. She said wild things weren't meant to be kept as pets." He seems to realize he'd started talking about his mom and that light begins to dim.

"My brother and I liked to make mud pies!" I blurt, not wanting the first bit of excitement I've seen in weeks to disappear just yet. "We used to pretend we were cooks at our own little outdoor bistro. We'd make the fanciest mud pies you've ever seen, topped with seeds and greens from the garden. Sometimes we'd make our dad come eat at our restaurant."

Ghillie's eyes widen and he leans forward. "You made him eat mud?!"

I laugh loudly at that. "No, no. He'd pretend to eat, just like we pretended to cook."

"Your family sounds fun."

"Yeah…" I sigh and look away. "They were."

I feel a hand on my arm. When I look up, L'rij is sitting across from me, little hand patting my arm soothingly.

"Don't cry, Ree. They probably miss you a lot, too, and they will be really happy to see you when you go home."

I sniffle and rub my eyes. "Thanks, little one. Sorry about that," I stand and walk over to the counter. "Let's finish making this cake for your mom, hm? I bet she's going to love it."

L'rij bounces on her toes. "I hope so! I want her to have the best Life Day ever!"

"And she will," I give her a smile and go over to the pantry to fish out some ingredients. Just around the corner, Ameant stops me. She takes my hands and looks straight into my eyes with her own alien ones.

"Have faith that you will see your family again, sweet girl. We are nothing without hope."

Small hands pull at my own, dragging me into another adventure.

"Come on, Rhynn!" My name comes out strange on their tongues. "Come pick flowers with us for the festival!"

I glance back at Til, silently asking if that's okay. Til nods and the corners of her lips quirk. Coming from her, it's the equivalent of a laugh.

I let the children lead me to a small meadow where we begin picking an assortment of colorful wildflowers. I'm not really sure what this festival is about, but it sounds fun, so I'm looking forward to it. I sing a little as I gather. Some of the kids join in, humming in harmony. I close my eyes and turn my face to the red sun. This is the most at peace I've felt since my life went to hell.

I open my eyes and look around. The meadow is gone. In its place is a burnt out building. Only two walls remain standing, but the fire has long since gone out.

I hesitantly move closer, picking my way through the rubble. And then I see it. Four little digits poking out from under a large beam, charred to the point of being nearly unrecognizable as fingers. I fall to my knees and clutch my head, unable to tear my eyes away.

Eventually, my gaze drifts. I almost can't process the next thing I see. It just looks like a mass of melted flesh. It only takes me three more heartbeats to realize it's a larger figure wrapped around a smaller one.

There are so many of them. Blackened limbs, shriveled up in agony. There's nothing left from the waist down of that one over there; I can see the spine. Skin stretched too tight over that face; empty sockets stare back at me. Bloody scratch marks on one of the standing walls; they tried to claw their way out.

It's too much. Please… I tear at my hair and scream out my misery, my horror. I don't care if there's still anyone around to hear me. Come get me. Burn me. I should have been among them, anyways.

Everything is spinning.

I ladle soup into a bowl for Ameant. She's been sick for a week now. I don't know what to do. I'd call for a doctor, but they only cater to the rich here and Ameant is a poor widow. I can't figure out what's wrong with her, either. Six years of biology training and I'm about as useful as a rock.

I place the bowl on a tray and head for the bedroom. L'rij is curled up by the fire, busy reading a small book. I smile and push open the door. L'rij coughs, deep and rattling. I freeze. No.

More spinning.

There's nothing around for miles. Just crisp white snow and a few trees. Only one thing breaks the pristine landscape: a small body, face down in a drift, an ever-widening pool of red framing him.

"Rhynn!"

I slowly become aware of hands stroking my back and arms.

"Breathe, lethallan. Yes, there you are."

My chest is so tight. I try to suck air in, but my lungs feel too small.

"Look at me, gaildahlas."

My eyes lock with calming blue ones. It helps a little.

"Breathe with me now," the voice urges and I try to comply. I can hear the quiet rush of air from between lips and try to match the tempo. In, out, in, out.

The spinning finally abates and I'm able to comprehend more. I'm kneeling on the floor. When did I get here? Josephine is kneeling with me, my hands clasped tightly in hers.

"I'll fetch you some water," she says, placing my hands on my knees and standing. Her voice sounds unusually shaky.

"Thank you, Ambassador," Solas nods at her and turns back to me. I don't think I like the way he's looking at me.

I clear my throat awkwardly. It does feel a bit dry. I'll be thankful for the water.

"Memories?" Solas asks quietly, gently. I nod once. He says nothing more, just pulls me into an embrace. The warmth is nice. When did it get so cold in here? I don't really have it in me to return the hug, though. My forehead is pressed to his throat and it starts to feel a bit stifling, so I pull back. Solas' face is unreadable.

Josephine returns, holding a cup of water. I take it, mutter a toneless, "Thank you," and gulp it down.

"What about the others?" I finally ask.

Josephine looks hesitant, eyes darting over to Solas. It makes me inexplicably angry.

"Josephine," I grit out.

Her eyes widen momentarily, but then she regains her composure, looking once again like the political woman she is. "They were found dead, as well." She sounds respectfully regretful. It makes me angrier.

"By whom?"

"We do not know yet, unfortunately," Josephine bends over and picks up her clipboard from the ground. It's laying in a puddle of ink.

A little boy in a puddle of blood.

I flinch and shake my head. "What's going to happen to the bodies?"

"Inquisition agents will return them to Clan Valen," the Ambassador replies, holding the soggy papers away from her body.

"I would like to accompany them," I state and even I can hear how flat my voice sounds.

Josephine's eyes connect with mine. "Yes, Rhynn. Of course," she promises. "In that case, you will need to leave for the Emerald Graves today."

"I'll grab my things."

"I will send word to the agents who found them," she says and then she's gone.

I move through the room robotically, collecting only the essentials and strapping on my armor. It takes me a minute to realize that Solas is also packing his bag.

"What are you doing?" Expressionless.

Solas glances up at me. "I will accompany you."

"No."

Something flickers in his eyes, but he remains unreadable besides. "Rhynn, I do not believe that is the wisest course of action – "

"You're not coming with me," I interrupt, my voice finally taking on a tone. This one leaves no room for argument.

"Very well." Solas finally stops packing, but he doesn't leave. Just stands there and watches me. It's unnerving. My skin itches and I roll my shoulders to relieve the tension. It doesn't work.

I buckle up my pack and sling it over my shoulder before heading out the door. I leave my violin propped up in the corner. I hear footsteps behind me but decide to ignore them.

They follow me all the way to Skyhold's gates. A hand on my shoulder has me whirling around, upper lip curled back.

"What?" I growl.

Solas doesn't so much as flinch. He just gazes back calmly and takes a step closer. For a moment, I'm afraid he'll try to kiss me, but he simply brushes a strand of hair off of my forehead. "Dareth shiral, lethallan." And then he turns and walks away.

I watch him for a few seconds before turning away, too. There is a horse waiting for me on the bridge, a young man holding the reigns and a map. I take them without a word, climb up, and ride off. The man's well wishes are lost to the wind.

I ride hard for days, only stopping for the horse. I don't sleep. Can't. I doze once and decide that won't be happening again. The dreams… I'm fairly certain I caught the attention of every demon in the vicinity.

I arrive at the camp marked on the map just as the sun is rising on the third day. The agents snap to attention, wary until they realize who I am. Josephine must have described me.

I dismount and one of them takes the horse. "Where are they?" I demand and another agent directs me to a row of linen-wrapped bodies laid out in the shade of a large tree. I make a beeline for the smallest one.

The wrapping looks like it was done with care. That's something at least. I put just as much care into peeling it away from the face. The sight that greets me has me reeling back and stumbling away to dry heave a few feet away.

Oh God! Ghillie!

Something strikes to life within me. Or maybe it dies and this is what's left. It burns. Rage, pure and unbridled, rises in my throat. It takes all my self-control not to go on a rampage through the camp. I want to tear, rend, scream. Spit this fire on the ones responsible and watch them burn with me.

Burn me, burn me, burn me.

I crawl back over to Ghilani. Force myself to look at him. One of his cheeks is caved in. It looks like someone tried to clean him up as best they could. A small part of me appreciates that. I reach out a shaking hand to trail my fingers over the ruined, bloated face. There are little bloodless gashes here and there, as well. His eyelids are closed. I'm ashamed of how thankful I feel for that. With how caved in that side of his face is, I doubt there's much left of the eye.

I don't unwrap him any further. I'll spare him his dignity. I lean over and press my lips to his forehead, ignoring the stench of death. I softly sing the lullaby as I wrap him back up.

"Godspeed, sweet dreams…"

I stand and turn towards the group of people who are pretending not to watch me. "Let's take them home."

There are two to a stretcher. I wave away the agent who offers to help me with Ghillie, lifting the little boy myself and cradling him in my arms. I try to ignore the smell and the slightly squishy feel of him, but it makes my stomach churn and my mind burn.

They will pay.

They will pay.

It's not even that far to the Dalish camp. They were so damn close…

A little girl is the first to spot us. Her already large eyes widen and she calls for someone. One by one, the rest of the elves turn their attention to us. A few ready weapons, but an older man signals for them to wait. I approach him.

"An'eth'ara," I greet him solemnly.

"An'daran atish'an, shemlen," he replies, tone belying the words. "What is the meaning of this?" he asks sharply.

"We are agents of the Inquisition," I explain. "A few days ago, we found six of your clan, murdered by an unknown person or group." My voice is restrained, formal.

A murmur goes through the crowd that has now gathered. One voice rises above the rest.

"You mean the ones we sent to your Inquisition to reclaim the child you held there?! How do we know it wasn't you?!"

I lock eyes with the angry woman. She is short and wiry, dark vallaslin snaking across her sharp cheekbones.

"Quiet, Isera," the older man commands, confirming my suspicions that he's the Keeper. He turns back to me and examines my face for a long minute. "You did not do it," he says quietly, but with conviction.

"No, I…" I choke on the words. "I would never harm any innocent, but especially not this little boy."

At least not on purpose.

"I see," the Keeper replies and steps aside. "Bring them in. Lay them down over there." He points to a clear spot and some of the other elves rush to aid us. I lay Ghillie down gently and remain kneeling there for a moment.

"Lani…?" a young voice, behind and to my right. I glance over my shoulder to see the same girl as before. Her blonde hair is in braided pigtails. She takes a tentative step towards the smallest wrapped body.

"Naril, come back here," a woman calls from across camp and the girl hesitates before scampering away.

Oh…

The Keeper walks over and I stand.

"You knew Ghilani." It's not a question.

"Yes," I reply, glancing back down at his body. "I helped take care of him while he was at Skyhold. He spent most of his days at the clinic with…" I trail off and don't finish.

"You may stay for the ceremony." His silver braids catch the sunlight and I stare. "I must ask that the others leave."

I raise my eyes to his and nod minutely. "Thank you."

He inclines his head and walks away. I return to the group of Inquisition agents and convey what the Keeper said. I don't really remember their responses, only that they leave without incident.

I stand on the fringes, watching the proceedings but not seeing. Soon enough, the graves are dug and the bodies laid beside them. I follow the man carrying Ghillie's body.

An older woman goes from one body to the other, anointing them and saying prayers. Prayers to gods that were nothing more than slave-owning mages. It feels wrong. I have to stop myself from yelling at the woman for daring to say such things over Ghilani. He deserves better than that.

The 'gods' may not care about you, Ghillie, but you had many other people who did. Do.

Soon after, each body is lowered carefully into its grave. I stand close to Ghillie's. The smell of freshly broken soil is enticing. Part of me wants to crawl down there with him, lay beside the small body and let the Dalish cover us. Then maybe I would know peace.

Someone starts singing softly in elvish. In time, others join in. I understand some of the words. I wonder if these people do, or if they're just repeating words passed down through generations. Does it really matter either way? The song brings me back to myself somewhat and I step back from the edge.

Each member of the clan tosses in a handful of dirt. I'm gently urged to do the same. Then the ones who dug the graves fill them in again. I watch until the end.

After the ceremony, a group of elves begin strapping on armor and picking up weapons. I approach them.

"May I come with you?"

"We are going after the ones who did this," a stocky elf states, eyeing me critically.

"I know," I reply tonelessly. "May I come with you?"

"You any good?" another asks.

"Very."

"Then lead us to where they were found."

I take them to the second marker on my map. Josephine is very good at anticipating the needs of others, it seems. The site is a secluded one, tucked away in a clearing. There's blood everywhere, soaked into the ground and splattered on the rocks.

"Mythal, guide our hands that we may bring swift justice to those responsible for this," someone behind me whispers. At least that's a prayer I can get behind. I wouldn't mind Flemeth swooping down to burn the bastards.

I step carefully into the clearing, eyes scanning the forest floor for signs. It doesn't take long to spot the bloody boot prints. One of the Dalish is already moving into the trees where the tracks lead. I follow the trained hunters but keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

We follow the trail until nightfall finds us scouting the edges of a small camp. A fire blazes at the heart of a ring of tents, but we stick to the shadows. After gathering as much information as we can, we regroup a safe distance away.

We come up with a plan and set it into motion. I wait in the darkness with two others while the rest shoot arrows into the men at non-vital but crippling points. As they drop or move to grab their weapons, we dart in and incapacitate them. It's disappointingly easy.

"Which one of you killed the little boy?" I ask loudly, sharp eyes darting from one face to the other.

"We have no idea what you're talking about, miss," one of them replies in a too-innocent voice. My eyes narrow and I descend on him. I pick up his bound hands and examine them clinically, feeling the bones of each finger. The man tries to hide it, but I can tell he's nervous. Keeping eye contact, I find a weak spot and snap the bone. I have to give the bastard props for only grunting loudly in reaction.

"Lie to me again and I'll break another one," I warn. "Now, I ask again, who dared to touch the little elven boy?" I have no idea why the elves seem to be deferring to me right now, but I don't really care.

"It was him!" one of the other men cries, pointing with both hands at the man with the broken finger.

I grin ferally and turn slowly to face him again. I place two fingers under his chin and apply pressure to raise his head. "Is this true, darling?" I croon dangerously.

He shakes his head to dislodge my hand but I dig my fingernails in. "No. Langlin's just trying to save his own skin."

I can see that he's expecting me to break another of his fingers. So, without warning, I kick him onto his stomach, press my foot to one of his shoulder blades, and wrench the arm back until it pops out of the socket. His scream is quite satisfying.

I haul him upright by his greasy, shoulder-length hair. "What's your answer now? Think carefully before you speak."

The man spits in my face and I shove him back into the dirt before wiping his saliva off of my cheek. He pushes himself back up and glares at me with pain-clouded eyes.

"You're not even an elf! What the fuck do you care for some knife-ear?!" he shouts, spittle flying from his chapped lips. One of the elves kicks him in his dislocated shoulder and he falls sideways, howling.

I crouch near his face. "I'll kindly ask you not to use such terms in my presence. Now answer the question."

"I already did!" he glares up at me. "No, you bitch! I didn't touch the fucking kid!"

Too bad. I would've liked to kill you slowly.

"Very good," I say condescendingly, patting him on the head. "See? That wasn't so hard." I stand and face the rest, scanning the faces once again. I circle through the campsite, stopping at each one to examine them and explain their weak points to them.

I trail my hand down one man's ribs, stopping at one of them and digging my finger in. "If I break this rib just right, I can get it to puncture your lung. Have you ever wondered what it's like to try to breathe with only one lung? I imagine it's not much fun." A bead of sweat trickles down the man's forehead and he cringes back from me.

Not him. I move on.

"It was me, you crazy cunt!" shouts one of the men I haven't gotten to yet. "And I enjoyed his every scream!"

I dart over to look him in the eyes, leaning in close. Without warning, he rears back and slams his head into my own, sending me sprawling. My vision is blurry, so I don't see him move again until he slams into me, forcing the air from my lungs. He rolls, trying to get his footing, probably to run, but I sweep my leg out to knock him down. He lands awkwardly on the hands tied behind his back and I hear something snap. Before he can move again, I pin him down, unsheathe my knife, and slice off his ear. He cries out in pain as the blood splatters across both our faces and the ear rolls to a stop a few feet away.

"Fucking bitch!" he screams, thrashing beneath me. I can see an elf moving in to help me, but I wave him off.

"Stop moving or I cut the other one off," I hiss. He stills beneath me. "What were his injuries?"

"What?" the man asks, angry and bewildered.

"Tell me what you did to him."

He grins, probably hoping to goad me into making another mistake, but the fires have turned to ice for now.

"First I broke his little legs so he couldn't run. He was a fast one, hard to catch. Didn't want him getting away again. Then I roughed him up, told him what a good-for-nothing, dirty little rabbit he was. He cried a lot. Said a lot of names. What's your name, sweetheart? Maybe one of them was yours." The smarmy grin still hasn't abated and it takes everything not to cut the lips from his face and see how well he smiles then. I stay silent, stony, so he continues. "The last thing I did was crush his pretty little elf face and watch him die slowly."

I can see the truth of it in the gleam of his eyes. Yes. This is him.

I stand slowly, towering over him. "Then it is only fitting that you receive the same, magnified ten-fold."

Quickly, almost faster than I can react, he attempts to knock me off my feet. I jump out of the way and bring my boot down hard on his thigh, putting my full weight behind it. The bone cracks loudly and he screams.

"Let's begin, shall we?" I grin at him with fire in my eyes.

For the next immeasurable amount of time, I break as many bones in his body as I can, starting with his fingers and toes. I do it methodically. I don't want to rupture any major arteries or veins. I want this to last.

By the time I snap both collar bones, he's passed in and out of consciousness a few times.

"Stop her!"

"Oh, Maker!"

The other men have been shouting stuff like this for a while. I don't know why the Dalish don't just kill them.

"'S'yer name Rhynn?" the man slurs and I freeze. A weak smirk plays at his bloody lips. I think he bit his tongue or something. "Ya look like a Rhynn. He cried yer name the mos', ya know. 'S like he hoped you'd save 'im or somethin'.

Something in me snaps. I give a strangled cry and start pounding his face with my fists. His nose breaks and blood gushes out and coats my fingers. I keep swinging. Vaguely, some corner of my mind notes that the cries of the others have gotten louder. A sharp pain shoots through my hand but I ignore it, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Do you get off on hurting little kids?" I shout. "You sick fuck! He was just a little boy! He didn't do anything to you! None of them did!"

His face is a bloody mess. The bright red liquid splashes out from under each fist fall, coating my upper half. I bring both hands down onto the left side of his face, over and over. The same side he hurt Ghillie on. I feel the cheek shatter beneath my hands and the man gurgles in pain.

His eye is still intact.

I smile widely as I press my thumb into the left socket, gouging out the eye.

Strong arms wrap around my own, clamping them down to my sides and hauling me off that pathetic excuse for a human being. I thrash and scream, trying to break free.

"Let me go! He needs to die!"

"Rhynn, stop," a familiar voice commands. "He is already dead."

I'm too focused on the man, though. He's not moving but he might still be alive. I need to finish this!

The arms drag me away from the campsite. The other men are watching me with wide, terror-filled eyes. "I'll see you all in hell, fuckers!" I spit at them, still fighting to get free.

I'm dragged through the woods backwards. My kicking legs keep knocking into things, getting bruised and cut, but I barely feel it. A voice curses behind me.

"Let me go!" I demand again. "I wasn't done! He hurt Ghillie! I wasn't done yet!"

Suddenly, I am flung sideways into something wet. The cold doesn't hit me right away, but then the shock wears off and it feels like a million needles stabbing into my skin.

I surge up from the water, spluttering and gasping. I drag myself out of the stream and onto the rocky shore. My whole body is shaking as I kneel there, digging my fingers into the dirt.

Panting, I raise my head to find a familiar elf watching me with a look of deep sorrow on his handsome face.

"Solas?" I rasp. My throat feels raw and my right hand is throbbing. "What…?"

"I followed you," he replies simply, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh…" I sigh, looking back down at my hands. I flex them, letting the pain ground me in reality. Thinking of how I injured my hand has me curling in on myself. "Oh God…" Did I really do that? Bash a man's head in while he was unable to fight back?

A painful sob wrenches its way out of my chest and I press my forehead to the smooth river rocks. A hand splays gently along the back of my skull, then wraps around and guides me up from the dirt. My eyes lock with Solas' and another sob breaks free as I silently plead with him to understand.

"I know," he tells me softly and pulls me into his arms. The tears fall freely now and I sob so hard I can barely breathe. Solas doesn't tell me to calm down, doesn't say anything. He just holds me until there are no more tears to shed. Then he wipes them from my cheeks and kisses the top of my head.

Approaching footfalls have him tensing, but I remain slumped against his chest. The person comes to a stop beside us and crouches. It's one of the Dalish elves. He holds something out to me.

I take it, turning it over in my hand. It's a beautiful carving of a bird on a leather cord. Brightly colored beads adorn it. I recognize it as the necklace Ghillie kept tucked beneath his shirt at all times. He showed it to me once, told me it was his mother's.

"He would want you to have it, I think," is all the elf says before standing and disappearing into the trees where he emerged.

I slip the cord around my neck and tuck the pendant under my shirt.

Solas helps me to my feet and wraps his soothing magic around my hand, healing it quickly, then around my whole body to dry me off.

"Let's go home," I sigh wearily. Solas stares at me for a moment, but I don't know why. Then he just nods and leads me back through the forest.

Notes:

Gaildahlas: sweetheart

Dareth shiral: safe journey

An'eth'ara: Greetings

An'daran atish'an: Welcome, The place you go is a safe place