Veira sat alone on the cold tile floor of the Circle, in her old-and-technically-new room given to her after she passed her first Harrowing. Drawings of Valour's sigil were placed all around her as she meditated, her pain still present. It had been a day since she returned from the Fade, and she hadn't been able to summon any spirit healing since. Not for a lack of trying, of course. She had barely eaten or slept since she returned, focusing all her energy on finding that aura again. It was by far the most difficult magic she had ever learned.
There was a knock at her door, Zevran leaning in the doorway. "May I come in?" he asked with a smile.
Veira rubbed her tired eyes. She motioned her hand to let him in. "Is something going on?"
"No, no, I just wanted to check up on you." He grinned at the litter of pages on the floor. "I see you have made progress."
Veira ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I've made none, to be honest. Can't even get one little bit of aura out."
He sat beside her. "Odd. I have never seen you struggle so much with magic."
"Well, it's this sigil. Magic always has some sort of...um catalyst, or pull to it. This "pull" is of course to the Fade so that we can create magic. Elemental and primal magic is hard to control but relatively easy to summon because it's everywhere; a part of nature. Bloodmagic is also easy because all you need is blood. Healing magic generally comes from within, by knowledge of anatomy and muscle. It's hard to explain. But spirit healing comes from a spirit. And this sigil is the...pull. But, it's realistically just a drawing. It is the connection to Valour but I can't move past the...simplicity of it, I guess."
Zevran shook his head. "That sounds like you."
She snorted and pushed him playfully, wincing at the twinge of pain at the movement. "I remember how it feels to use it. That's a step. But to use this sigil and connect...therein lies my problem."
"Hmmm," Zevran hummed for far too long, rubbing his chin. "Well. I know nothing of magic. But it sounds to me that you just need something more complicated to concentrate on. What if, instead of paper, the sigil was on your skin?"
Veira's eyes widened. "You want me to carve the sigil into my skin?"
"Wh-"
Veira had a serious look on her face. "No, no. That might actually work."
Zevran paled and waved a hand. "No! I do not mean that. You Grey Wardens and your mutilation. I meant a tattoo."
Veira blinked. "Oh."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Luckily, you are in the presence of a fairly skilled tattoo artist. I know how it is done."
She beamed at him. "You're an artist? I didn't know that!"
He just shrugged. "I am no painter."
"Zevran," Veira grinned, "since when do you downplay your talents?"
"The process is rather quite enjoyable, you know. The inking itself can be painful, but before that you will soak in a scented tub while I massage your skin to better receive the ink. I promise, I will make it fun."
Ah. Now that was an avoidable conversation, wasn't it? She wouldn't pry, but it was curious. "Alright. Let's do it."
Zevran already had the needles and some ink in his pack, if he ever needed touch-ups of his own tattoos on his travels. He grabbed the best smelling plants the Circle had in storage, leaving Veira to wonder if it was truly necessary for the process. She changed her mind when the water was ready. It smelled amazing, therefore she didn't care whether it was needed or not. Her aches and pains didn't go away, but it was nevertheless relaxing the moment she got into the tub.
After a few minutes of soaking and kisses from a certain elf, Zevran leaned into her ear. "Where would you like it?"
"On my back," Veira said, smiling, "since he will always have mine now."
After the bath and rather long massage, Veira was laid on her stomach on her bed, her jaw tightening at the pain just from her own body. Zevran hadn't even started on the tattoo yet. This was why she was doing all this in the first place. Sleeping would always be painful for her from now on, as she wouldn't be able to keep up a constant healing while she slept, but she could take that. Better that than feeling this pain at all times for the rest of her life.
As Zevran traced a finger on her back to fully plan out where the tattoo would go and how big it would be, she shivered. It would take up all of her upper back, the circle reaching the back of her shoulders and down the halfway point of her torso. The hilt of the sword would stop just below the last upper bone of her spine, right under her neck. The body of the sword would reach almost all the way down her back, hitting right where her hips began. She wanted it to essentially take over her back, to show her dedication and will to fully commit.
"There will be pain, mi amour. Especially here," he touched the bone near her neck, "and here," he ran a finger down her spine, "anywhere there is bone. I will try to make it as painless as possible..."
"It's alright," Veira smiled, "I will endure."
He pressed his lips against the back of her neck affectionately and draped a blanket over her bottom and legs, not for modesty reasons but for comfort. It was chilly in the Circle. He placed his inks close to him, prepping the needle. And when he began, Veira feared she would not be able to stay still.
It took several hours to complete. She had to request breaks when the pain became too much. At the end of it, when Zevran was almost finished, Veira gritted her teeth and gripped the pillow tight, thinking of Valour and just how much she needed to ease her pains. Her chronic pains flared wickedly during the inking, the worst pain she had felt in a while. Her harried mind half convinced herself that it would never end, until Zevran finally said "it is done."
Veira immediately took a long, shaky breath, turning her head to look at him. He smiled at her and took a mirror from the vanity next to the bed, moving it up and down her so she could see it. It was...exactly as it needed to be. Then another flare of pain came, and Veira concentrated. On her back, on Valour, on the large sigil permanently in her skin. No longer did it feel distant on a piece of parchment; it was a part of her. It was her.
And there it was. The connection. The room suddenly filled with blue, her aura extending around them both, as well as the bed. It gave Veira the strength to sit up, as there was no pain left. Zevran whispered something in Antivan, staring wide eyed at her back. He kept the mirror up. As she peered at it once more, she smiled slightly. The tattoo glowed bright blue, turning the black ink into a turquoise.
Any cuts or damage done to Zevran in the Deep Roads that was in the later stages of healing disappeared immediately. He stared at the clear skin for only a moment, then turned back to her with a smile an a gleam in his eye. "The Maker can only wish that Andraste was as beautiful as you."
Veira could only laugh, both in relief and in reaction to such a cheesy line, but she still pulled him into a deep kiss that lasted long past the last duties of the Circles inhabitants.
As Veira lounged beside Zevran, making sure to stay on her stomach instead of her back, she contemplated all the things she wanted to talk to him about. She remembered half confessing to him before, though she doubted now was a good time to try again. She didn't know what he wanted. But since he wanted to stay with her regardless of their relationship, it seemed she had a lot of time to work up to it and figure it out. Plus, there were more important things to discuss. One that was painful to recall.
It was a shame that she was going to ruin his relaxed state. She tried to be as gentle as possible in going forward with it. "Zev, can we talk?"
He rubbed a sleepy eye and grinned. "Can I respond in poetry?"
"It's not...I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but. We should talk about the Deep Roads."
That certainly woke him up. His grin was gone as he sat up slowly. "Ah. I suppose I should have seen this coming. Better now than never, yes?"
Veira sat up as well, placing a hand on his arm. "Not if you don't want to."
"No, it is alright. You have been a good friend to me. You deserve to know."
"I wanted to apologize to you first," Veira said, "I never should have gotten so angry at you. It was inappropriate...and if things were different it could have made things much worse. I'm so sorry."
Zevran blinked in confusion. "Ahh, there you go again, saying things I do not know what to say in return."
He sighed. "But you need context. There is a reason why I took that job in Ferelden, and it had nothing to do with any thought of me leaving the Crows. The last mission I had...did not end well."
"You see, back in Antiva, I was cocky and arrogant. I boasted of my conquests often, both in assassination and as a lover."
Veira pushed him slightly. "You were more cocky and arrogant?"
He chuckled quietly. "Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable. One Guildmaster in particular did not hide his dislike for me, and I always sought out to show off. This was still true when I was accepted for a particularly difficult bid."
"Our mission was to kill a famous merchant. Who he was is unimportant, though he was a difficult target. I was partnered with two: Taliesin, who had been my friend and partner for many missions, and an elven lass named Rinna." He smiled slightly. "She was a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked, eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."
Veira hugged her knees. "And you fell in love."
His eyes widened at the word, but he still nodded. "She was special. I thought I had closed off my heart, but she touched something within me. It...frightened me. Crows cannot love." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "That was why...when Taliesin and I discovered that Rinna had been dealing information to the merchant I readily agreed that she had to pay the price."
A cold wave of dread ran through Veira. The way his voice cracked ever so slightly, how his eyes were so distant, she knew in her heart before he had even said it that Rinna hadn't betrayed them at all.
"Rinna begged me not to. On her knees...with tears in her eyes...she told me she loved me and had not betrayed the Crows. I told her that I didn't care, and would do the same even if she hadn't been a traitor."
Veira shook her head, tears of her own starting to water. "But that wasn't true."
His voice was so heavy it broke her heart. "I convinced myself it was."
"I watched Taliesin cut her throat, and she stared up at me as she bled out. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. But...when we finished the mission...we found the merchant's true source of information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."
"I...wanted to tell the Crows of our mistake. Taliesin convinced me not to. He said it would be a waste. So, we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt." His face turned to an angry snarl. "We needn't have bothered. The Crows already knew. The Guildmaster who disliked me told me so to my face. He said that my time was coming, too."
Veira wiped at her eyes. "I can't imagine how that must have felt."
"I felt empty. I felt as if I was nothing. It felt as if she had been nothing. You once asked me what I wanted, why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at the fabled Grey Wardens, beg for my life, and die just as she did."
Veira gripped his arm, not tightly. She couldn't stop her hand from shaking. "Do you still want to die?"
He paused for a moment, making Veira's heart sink, but then he shook his head. "No. No...I want to live. I have had a taste of life again, and I...find myself wanting more. But even so...those thoughts do not go away so simply. In the Deep Roads I felt...if I could die saving a life, saving you, then that would be worthy. Worthy for someone like me."
"Being alive is more worthy," Veira smiled, hugging him tightly.
"You and I both know we cannot make promises, in times like these."
"No," she shook her head, placing a hand on where she was hit by that ogre, "we can't. But we can fight."
Dear Alistair,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am doing alright, however the healing did not go as planned. The time spent returning to Orzammar made it so my bones healed wrong, and so I was still in a lot of pain after the healing.
Of course, right?
I have found a magical solution. I have become a Spirit Healer, much like Wynne. I have to use it continuously on myself to keep the pain at bay, and it is a tiring thing. I'm attempting to get used to it and control it better, which takes practice and time. If I were to give you a timeline of when I'm to return, I truly cannot say. The latest I will stay is a month. I know that is a long time. But I ask for your patience, my friend. Currently, I glow when I use it.
Not great for stealth purposes.
But I know I'll be able to control that with practice. My promise to return will be fulfilled.
Please, let me know what is happening with you. How is Orzammar? What's the status of the army? Do you see any possible improvements for the Casteless?
We are almost there, Alistair. We are so close.
Sincerely, Veira
Dear Veira,
Just when you think healing magic is an instant cure-all. I'm sorry it didn't work out. You never get a break, do you?
A month is a long time, but I get it. We can't expect you to walk for miles and fight a war right after such a big change. There is still a lot of stuff to do here, organizing, planning. Stuff that the Grey Wardens should know about.
But that's the good part. The bad part? I crowned Bhelen. I did what you asked and saw for myself what Dust Town was like. And it was...horrible. That word isn't strong enough. So, I chose the candidate that seemed like the most likely to change that. But as soon as he was crowned, he called for Harrowmont's execution!
There was nothing I could do. As I understand it, his whole house is going to be in exile because of Bhelen. [this part is crossed out but somewhat legible] I don't know much...but I know that kings shouldn't just kill their opponents like that! They need to be given a chance! That's not a king I would want to be.
The army is getting ready. A lot of the different houses are forging weapons and armour for them. I managed to convince Kardol to join us as well, so we will have the Legion of the Dead on the surface to help! I guess that's another good part.
Bhelen's also working on opening up Orzammar for more trade with the surface. So I guess Ferelden will have to get used to a bigger dwarven influence for the next generation at least. I just hope that Bhelen doesn't do more harm than good.
As for the Casteless, it's probably too soon to see any change yet. I know he wants to make his...m-lady-friend his legitimate wife. Whether he can or not...I mean he seems to be pretty tyrant-like so he probably will be able to do it. Ugh. Just writing that made me shiver.
Hope to see you soon, Alistair
Veira folded Alistair's letter with a sigh and tossed it roughly to the side. She sat cross-legged on her bed, about to start a session of meditation, but the letter proved to be a distraction. She rubbed her temples. Even if she didn't support him, she did not hate Harrowmont. She never spoke to him. But an execution? His entire house in exile? That was going too far. And if he could go too far already, only weeks into his crowning...Maker, they may have made a mistake.
But the army was getting ready. And they had the Legion of the Dead on their side. That alone was enough to calm her nerves. For now.
She sighed again, getting up off the bed and out the door. She glowed a deep blue, mostly concentrated around her feet, though it was still like looking at a beacon that no one could miss. It was getting better, slowly, as before she used to glow from head to toe. She also needed to practice using Spirit Healing while moving. It tired her out so easily. Honestly, it would tire her out for the rest of her life. But there was no reason to believe she couldn't train herself to last longer.
It was around suppertime, so she assumed her companions were in the mess hall enjoying a meal they hadn't cooked themselves. Save for one, obviously. But she wasn't hungry. She wandered through the halls of the Circle, noting how much damage had been fixed, and how much hadn't. Unsurprisingly, and Veira approved of this, the most attention had been concentrated on getting the library back in order. It still wasn't complete, but it did start to look like what it once was; a marvel of knowledge that had captivated her so as a child, and as an adult.
She leaned against the cold wall when her breathing became strained. She hid it quite well, but the complete change in the way that she herself...worked was overwhelming. She had predictions, calculations, notes even, of day to day things she never had to think about. How many steps she could take before it was too much. She counted those. She had days where it was just easier to not use magic and let the constant pain run through her, as there were some days where she woke up and the pain was not unbearable. She couldn't cast as many spells as she used to, so she had to make every spell count.
And that there was always a feeling of a presence. It was not an uncomfortable presence, as Valour did not care what she did so long as it was not against his virtue. But it was still hard to get used to being watched in your most private moments.
Just as she regained some of her stamina, Irving rounded the corner of the hall. "Ah! I was just looking for you. I have something for you."
Veira gave him a surprised chuckle, still not fully recovered. "May I lean on you, then?"
"After all the times you let me lean on you, how could I say no?"
He extended an arm like a gentleman would to his ballroom partner, and she held on tight. He lead her to his office, letting her sit on the chair at his desk. He rummaged through his large cabinet at the back of his office, bringing out a long, beautiful silver staff, the end made out of fine crystal. It took her breath away, feeling the magical power radiating from it as he placed it on the desk in front of her.
"This is..." she gasped.
"A very old, very powerful staff. Made from dragonbone. It has been here for a long time, and I hate to admit it has been gathering dust. It is the finest staff you will find, however. And I want you to have it. Your staff was broken in the Deep Roads, yes?"
"I-yes, but, this doesn't even compare-"
Irving smiled. "As it shouldn't. A staff should match the power of the mage, no? This one suits the you of today." He placed a finger over his mouth and whispered. "Also, it makes a fantastic walking stick."
Veira beamed. "You did not."
Irving shrugged innocently, then he changed back into a more serious posture. "I hope this staff carries you for a long time. And please...please don't think of this as a ploy to earn your forgiveness either. I can accept that you may never forgive me for keeping Tilla's fate a secret from you. So long as this staff helps you succeed and live...that is enough for me."
Veira swallowed a lump in her throat. "I...what you did was terrible Irving. I don't know how I forgot her so quickly, but...I deserved to know. But I know you did it because you cared about me. I know that." Her thoughts went to Sten briefly, and chuckled. "And I've forgiven worse, to be honest. You are my teacher and friend, Irving. And I...I think of you most days when I think of the word 'father.'"
He hugged her tight, even with her sitting down and him having to lean down just to catch her shoulders. She wanted to protest, remind him of his back problems, but instead she found herself hugging him back just as fiercely, fighting back the tears that already fell from his face.
