The painful throb radiating through her temples was the first sign she was exiting the Fade. The waves of nausea washed over her, crashing against her senses as the tide threatened to pull her under. With a groan she pulled the furs further over her face, cheeks still burning from the poison charging through her veins all night like an angry Qunari.
I can 't keep doing this to myself.
The world was too bright, too sharp, too hard for her to handle. If she continued this method of coping, she'd be on death's doorstep with Dorian and Evelyn, her blood a mixture of wine and self-hatred.
This time she would not hunt out Solas to remove her self-induced pain. She deserved the pounding thunder throbbing in her temples as the soldiers broke apart their camp outside the protective walls of Rylen's tent. She needed the pain to ground her in reality.
With another groan, she rubbed away the sleep from her eyes with a delicate touch. Her behavior toward Solas in the Fade had been uncalled. He was intruding, but she'd asked for his guidance as she pushed the boundaries of her new skills. His advice worked- she saw more than she believed possible. An apology was unnecessary with her teacher, but she prepared to give him one because that is what good people do- they accept responsibility for their decisions.
Right after she finished emptying the contents of her stomach. She threw the furs off her burning skin as she scrambled off the bedroll and retched. The dirt floor kicked back clouds of dust into her face in retaliation for her unwanted gift.
After her nausea passed, she returned, head resting in her hands as she tried to connect one cohesive thought to another. Her mind reeled while balancing the weights of the Fade and the real Thedas. She had no idea what was happening. She assumed Rylen delivered her message to Cullen since the entire camp wasn't destroyed by the Commander and Spymaster searching for her.
At the memory of her outburst last night, a diminished wave of anger swept through her. Lucky for the Spymaster, her rage had quelled since last night. What had gotten into her? She had seen Leliana angry, but she'd never seen her best friend unhinged before. Fury filling her cerulean eyes.
Evelyn's betrayal threw her friend for a larger loop than expected. What else could cause her to lash out like that? The Spymaster was a different woman from the fresh-faced and eager girl who traveled glued to her hip throughout Ferelden. But the same heart beat within her chest and Idalya couldn't imagine a world where that woman would harm her.
If anyone's anger needed examination, it was hers. Maker, she pulled a dagger on her best friend. Without Cullen to stop her, what could have happened? She hadn't known the depths of anger running through her veins, until it poured free, poisoning everything around her like the Blight.
I owe a lot of apologies on the way back to Skyhold, I better get started.
She lifted herself to her feet, gasping as the room swung wildly away from her while she tried to gain a solid footing with bare limbs. Her patience was rewarded as the world slowed its contempt-filled spinning and she sighed in relief to see a small bucket placed inside the front flap of the tent for her use. After emptying her bladder, which almost required more skill than she owned, she arched her back, her vertebrate popping one at a time. Rylen's dark linen shirt fell off the sides of her narrow shoulders, while the hem caressed the top of her knees, her legs chilled from the breeze venturing through the fabric wall of the tent.
Her toes brushed against a bundle of fabric next to the door. Reaching down, she picked up her servant's dress from the day prior, large mahogany stains still damp and tacky to the touch. By reflex, she dropped the garment back to the dirt floor as images of their blood spreading across her limbs filled her vision. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stepped back to shake the visions from her mind.
She could see it, their faces and gaping mouths, their dead eyes watching her accusingly. The warm drops of their blood dripping from the tips of her fingers. Her wrists pushed against the drumming in her ears as she dropped to her knees, the stones rough against her bare skin.
The blood. It was everywhere. The floor filling with blood. The rancid smell of copper overwhelming her senses as she gasped for breath. Their faces … No. Their faces replaced with her mother, her siblings, the elves in Denerim. All those faces she'd failed.
The young girl was gone, replaced by a dark-skinned elf. White strands of hair painted crimson. Warden armor is broken and buckled as she laid motionless face down in the growing pool. A cry escaped Idalya 's lips as she stared at the dead girl. An elf no different from the rest.
The history of Thedas was built on the blood of dead elves. What made her think ten years could change anything? So much blood, it was rising quickly, threatening to drown her, as she knelt in her weakness, paralyzed to save herself.
The hands on her shoulders jarred her back into the reality of the tent and her magic exploded out of her chest before her vision returned. Solas' barrier absorbed the force as he knelt without flinching, clasping her wrists as he drew them apart, mumbling Elven curses under his breath.
A cry of pain escaped past her lips, the muscles in her hands clenching back into fists, but Solas' thumbs forced her closing palms open. Her hysterical and cruel laugh met her ears as she found the deep wounds she carved into the flesh of her hands trying to forcibly remove the blood that would forever stain her thin and quivering hands.
Showing his strength, he pulled the trembling Warden to him, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing to secure her as her tears fell. He was much stronger and muscular than she would have assumed from his thin frame, but he protected her from the monsters waiting in the dark. Pools of blood collected on the back of his tunic, oozing from her wounds.
The elf never hesitated, securing her against his chest as the shaking erupted over a body that sensed safety. He shushed her, a hand traveling gently over the back of her hair, a touch reminiscent of her mother's as she clenched her eyes shut and accepted his comfort.
"I don't think I can do this, Solas…" her voice so weak.
"Mala suledin nadas, Asha." The words were a song washing over her as he whispered them to the crown of her hair. She felt strength from his voice even if their meaning was beyond her comprehension. She exhaled, her chest vibrating with each shaky breath. As if reading her mind, he spoke. "It means 'we must endure'."
"I don't think I can." She admitted. That truth scared her more than facing the Archdemon again. "I can't forget their faces. Can't stop imagining what their last moments were like. They deserved so much better, Solas."
"Do not forget their faces. You must never forget them. It's what elevates us above others. Use your strength to keep pushing, keep fighting, but never let the image of what Orlais deems an acceptable loss slip far from your mind. Remember their names, their faces… their lives will not be vain, as we tear down the chains that locked them to their fate." His whispers flowed across the waves of her hair as his strength passed into her like the flow of his magic.
Her face buried in the front of his tunic, the strong scent of elfroot made her smile despite the insanity that had happened. Solas was right. She would never forget their names and faces, and she would always remember the look the disdain of Evelyn's face as she walked around their bodies like they merely impeded her passage.
Those people deserved a death many years in the future, surrounded by their families, not harvested like cattle in a slaughter. Their deaths belonged to people like her and Evelyn. How many had died by the edge of her sword? Those servants were civilians who died a soldier's death, and she swore to never forget.
Solas' grip relaxed as he waited for her response. When her movements remained stable, his arms unlocked behind her and slid down her arms to take her wrists and extend her bloodied hands out to him as he sat on his heels. Her lavender eyes focused on a point far away as his magic sweep over the areas, cooling and with care.
The mottled skin pieced itself together as the magic swept over the rest of her body shrinking the hangover she'd forgotten. The magic receded from her body back into Solas' hands, a candle extinguishing its flame as the room grew darker and ominous.
"No more hurting yourself." His tone was direct as he tended to her. "There are enough people in Thedas yearning to harm us, let's not do their work ourselves."
Worry grew in the pit of her stomach. What was wrong with her? Last night she threatened her only friends with daggers, a day later she was clawing the skin off her hands, lost in a waking memory.
Perhaps the magic that poured life back into her bones added something else. Something foul and venomous filling the gaps where a soul used to live. She didn't remember life being so painful, but as the Fade reminded her last night, there was a lot she wouldn't let herself remember.
Satisfied with his work, Solas rolled his feet under him and stood in one fluid motion, her hands falling away to her lap. He observed the pile of soiled clothing, a sour look on his face. "You need proper attire and a basin."
The mage reached out to part the hanging leather and, as she presumed, found an Inquisition soldier standing guard. Cullen's way of ensuring his own restless sleep, to know she was safe.
"Soldier?"
The man jumped in surprise as faced Solas, his cheeks blossoming into crimson at his embarrassment of being mortified by two elves. He was young, eighteen at the oldest, too young to be separated from his family fighting for the chaos that was the Inquisition. He remained standing in silence as they waited for him to respond. Following a few awkward seconds, Solas shook his head and continued.
"The Lady needs a set of women's clothes; her uniform is bloodstained, and she needs more presentable attire to return to the villa. Do you understand?"
The man cleared his throat, his eyes as wide as saucers, and replied in a crisp Ferelden accent that made Idalya smile. "Yes, Ser, I have a sister." He turned on his heels and skidded away, his armor shuffling.
Both elves quirked their heads in unison at the man's strange statement. Shaking it off, she went about stretching her dehydrated and sore muscles regretting last night's actions as each limb pushed back in retaliation.
"You need to talk to someone." Idalya looked up and Solas' piercing sapphire eyes looked more tired than she had ever seen. "Whether the Spymaster, myself or someone else, you need to talk about what's going on. Keeping everything inside will destroy you. You have so many people around you, stop acting like you have to wage your battles alone, Asha." There was a clear irritation in his voice as he looked at the drying pools of her blood that had collected on the dirt floor.
"Asking for help is difficult." She pulled her hands back into Rylen's crimson shirt in growing discomfort. "I don't know what I'm feeling." Her head shook as she thought over the complications she caused the Inquisition just leaving Skyhold for one mission. "I'm part of the Inquisition, their goals are mine, and yet I've never felt so alone in my life."
"That I understand." He watched her carefully, her words surprising him, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "Then we shall stand-alone- together."
Small shuffling footsteps approached the tent and a distinctly Orlesian voice called out. "Lady Mahariel, I have what you have requested."
Solas threw back the leather flap unveiling the Chantry sister Idalya had the misfortune of yelling at with her last hangover. A deep ruby flush spread high across her cheekbones at once again having to face the sister in not her greatest moment.
Draped across the sister's arms, she had a tunic and leather breeches and a small pack wrapped in linen. Solas reached out for the clothes and the Chantry sister moved back as she tried to look over his shoulder to see Idalya hidden within the tent.
"Pardon me, I was told the Lady needed garments." She spoke, her discomfort obvious.
"Yes, I am the one who requested her things." He said frankly before he reached again and once again the Chantry sister stepped away her black curls bouncing around her face with the movement.
"It is not appropriate it, Ser… if I could speak to the Lady for a moment?"
With a silent curse, Solas moved faster than the indignant woman and grabbed the bundle out of her hands as she protested.
"Ser, you should not…" Solas opened the linen wrap flippantly to find an assortment of rolled linen strips, the guard's strange comments about having a sister now making sense. His eyebrows raised before in unison before settling over his brow as he glared at the now mortified Chantry sister.
"I am her physician," his words were slow and Idalya covered her mouth with the back of a bloodstained hand to keep her laughter from echoing out of the tent. The sister opened her mouth to object, but Solas cut off before words could exit her throat. "Void take all of you heretics!" He let the flap fall on the woman's face as he scoffed. Thinking better of it, he opened the flap again at the woman who was still standing frozen in disbelief. "Humans: you ruin everything." As the flap closed for the last time, a snort escaped Idalya and Solas turned his eyes on her sharply, his mana swirling in his pupils.
"You find this to be entertaining?" He asked, a hint of rage floating on the surface of his words.
A light laugh exited her chest and shoulders which felt good after her experience earlier. "Let's say this isn't my first run-in with that particular sister. Thank goodness my end goals don't include standing at the side of the Maker because I am not doing well." A smile made its way to her lips which calmed his magic as his eyes returned to their color of the cloudless sky.
"I'll leave you to get dressed, the Commander has the rest of the Inquisition packed and is waiting for you to rise." He handed the bundle of clothes and sanitary products of confusion as he turned to exit the tent, Idalya stopped him.
"Solas?" He paused, his narrow back pointed towards her, her bloodstains still evident across the back of his loose tunic. "Thank you… for everything. Not just today but I'm sorry about how I behaved last night." He nodded, the use of words unnecessary for two people who traveled dreams together. "That's one awkward apology out of the way. Fifty more to go." She chuckled in discomfort. "Is Ser Barris nearby?"
At the Templar's name, the mage stiffed, his chin lowering toward his chest. "That's why I came here."
Idalya was confused as she waited for the elf to speak as the silence stretched out her confusion branched to much darker emotions.
"What's happened, Solas?" Her heart paused in her chest as the muscle threatened to break under the pressure.
Solas sighed.
"I'm sorry, Asha. Ser Barris is gone."