A/N: Surprise, surprise. My brain comes up with another story while sleeping off a migraine. Well, let's see what you all think of it!
All Elvhen used in this story comes from FenxShiral on AO3.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Dragon Age whatsoever. That honor goes to BioWare.
Warning: There will be hints at the result of torture and death in this chapter. This story is rated M for a reason. You have been warned.
Chapter 1- Horror and Revelations
Solas POV
The first thing I expected to happen after the magister was taken into Inquisition custody was not for the Herald, Mahannon Lavellan, to talk to King Alistair in hushed voices. Unexpected, but not surprising. What was surprising was the King's face paling before rushing off into the keep.
"Solas, with me! Cassandra, grab Vivienne and follow us!" Lavellan yells while running after the King, brown hair flowing behind him. A few soldiers, Varric, the Iron Bull and Dorian run to follow them. I hurry as well, noting that we are not going upstairs into the keep, but down into the dungeons.
"Where are we going?" I yell to the front, catching up to Varric and the Tevinter mage, Dorian.
"There's a prisoner held here that needs rescuing NOW!"Lavellan calls back to us. "She'll die within the week, and we can't allow that to happen!" We turn a corner and down another set of stairs, heading deeper into the dungeons where there are no windows, only torchlight. It is at that moment that I sense something. Something familiar.
"No," I whisper, my eyes widening as I have a feeling I know who it is we're here to rescue. I pull ahead of Varric and Dorian and sprint till I catch up to Lavellan and the King.
"I know where to go," I say to them, my eyes hardening in the mounting horror and fury that's attempting to consume me.
"How?" asks the King. "You don't know the layout."
"I don't have to," I tell them, "I can the sense the magic of where she is."
"You can sense her magic from here?" asks the Herald.
"No," I shake my head. "I can sense the magic one of her possessions is giving off." We turn another corner.
"How can you know it's from one of her items?" asks the Herald.
"How can I not? It's my magic that is in that item," I admit before pulling ahead of them into the dank dungeon.
The two men look at each other, horror dawning on their faces as they piece the tidbits of information together.
'The Venatori are fucked when Solas gets his hands on them.' is the only thought the two men have before increasing their pace to catch up to the elven apostate, not caring that they've effectively left the others far behind them.
The silence could be cut with a knife as Solas rushes into the corridor where the magic is greatest. Slowly, he walks past the cells lining the walls on either side of him, noting that these cells look to have not been used in years.
Swallowing slowly in growing dread, he doesn't notice the Herald or the King follow him soon after as his feet take him to the last cell to the right. Immediately, before he even reaches the cell door, the stench of rotting flesh hits him. That, and blood, lots of blood. It is then that he notices both men, as they audibly gag at the smell that assaults their noses.
Solas doesn't look at them as he reaches the door to look into the cell. What he sees forever sears itself into his mind as he stares in horror at what is in there.
Hanging from the rafters by her wrists is an elf, her skin as pale as death, nearly nude if it weren't for the scraps of cloth that used to be her clothes hanging onto her frame. A frame so thin from malnutrition that you can easily see her hip bones and ribs. Her body is covered in so many bruises that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, and open wounds sluggishly ooze out blood and pus; signs of infection. Her hair is a blood red color, but it's difficult to tell if it's natural or from the blood that she's covered in. He notes in despair that she is blindfolded and that she doesn't appear to have responded to their arrival, her head tilted down.
"No," he breathes out in horror, staring at the sight that confirms his worst fears. He hears the Herald retch, the King just staring, as the others finally catch up to them.
"By the Maker," Varric mutters, eyes wide as he takes in what he's seeing.
Solas turns to him. "Break the lock," he says, tone even, no emotion reflected in his voice. Varric winces but does what he says, walking up to the door and jamming a lock pick into the lock. The few minutes it takes to pick the lock are the longest minutes he's ever felt. But finally the door opens and Solas rushes past the dwarf to the elf's side, his pack dropping to the floor as he does so.
There is still no reaction from the female elf hanging there, and everyone there is holding their breath. Until, that is, Solas touches her. Then her reaction is violent. Her body jerks as she weakly raises her head up, swinging it around as if trying to see, even with the blindfold on.
"Dian!" She weakly yells out. Her body sags in exhaustion. "Tel'sal," is muttered so quietly they can barely hear it. Solas can hear Lavellan translating for those who don't understand, but pays no attention to them. He brings his hand up again to caress her face.
Stop!... Not again.
"Sathan. Sathan u'em dina," she begs, and his heart breaks at how desperate she is for respite. He brings his other hand so that he cradles her face and tries again to break through to her.
Please. Please leave me to die.
"Vhen'an," he whispers to her, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. She stills under his hands and seems to take in as deep a breath as she can.
My Heart
"Solas?" she asks, hope in her voice as tears seem to soak the makeshift blindfold.
"Vin. Eman ma." He says to her while gently untying the blindfold from her face. Unfocused eyes stare back at him, tears falling from their blue depths. Magic briefly lights up his hands before blinking out. He curses to himself.
Yes. I have you.
"Ahnas vun'in?" she asks, eyes still unfocused, but looking in his direction.
What is the day/date?
Solas pauses for a moment before answering, "Tua'sal'adahl'man or annar ualan'anan'sa." She blinks, but otherwise there is no other reaction from her.
Harvestmere of the year 9:41
Solas looks back at the others as he steps forward to support her body with his own. "Help me get her down. And where is Lady Vivienne? I cannot heal her."
King Alistair looks back to the corridor the way they came from, needing something to do to distract him from the heartbreaking scene. "I hear footsteps, so no more than a few minutes before they're here."
"What do you mean you can't heal her?" asks Varric, as Iron Bull comes forward to assist Solas.
"She's been drugged with Magebane, and I can't. She's my..." He's interrupted by the female elf.
"Isa'nas'falon," she whispers, her eyes closed, body sagging at the warmth Solas is giving off. Iron Bull and Lavellan both let out a hiss in surprise.
"That'll do it," Iron Bull grumbles as he proceeds to untie the rope bindings from her wrists connecting her to the rafters. As he does so, Solas maneuvers his hands so that he is holding her in his arms, careful of her ribs that may be injured.
"What does that mean?" asks Varric, as Dorian gets a contemplative look on his face, before his eyes widen.
"You don't mean...?" the mage asks in surprise, and Solas nods. Dorian lets out some Tevene curses as Lavellan finishes the sentence.
"She's his soul mate. The bond goes both ways. If she's been dosed with Magebane, then the effects are trickling down the bond to him, now that they're close to one another."
"Okay, that answers one question. But what's making that awful smell?" asks Varric. At that, her eyes water with more tears as she whimpers in despair.
"What's wrong, vhen'an? What happened?" asks Solas, trying to soothe her as best he can.
"..." she mumbles so quietly under her breath that no one can hear what she said.
"Speak up, vhen'an. I cannot help you if I do not know what is wrong," he urges her.
"...i'var'linem. Es'an dalem var esha'lin," comes the almost silent answer. Solas' body tenses, as does Iron Bull and Lavellan, before he carefully hands her off to Iron Bull, then looking at her face as more tears flow from her.
...was pregnant. They killed our child.
"Mahn?" he asks her, trying reign in his fury. She doesn't verbally answer him, but her eyes briefly look to a corner of the cell before she looks down at her lap.
Where?
Solas slowly stands up and walks to the corner she indicated. It is piled up with hay, and he knows that what he will find will not be easy on the stomach. With trepidation, he starts removing the hay, small clumps at a time, until a small partially decomposed body is exposed.
"By the Maker!" whispers Varric as King Alistair moves away to empty his stomach, Lavellan following suit, while Dorian has a grave expression on his face.
"Bring me my pack," Solas says, tone heavy with grief. Varric fetches it before handing it to him. Eyes locked on the small corpse of the infant, his right hand digs through his pack before leaving it, in his grasp a small embroidered blanket. Lavellan lets out a short gasp at the sight of the blanket.
"Solas... Is that what I think it is?" he asks quietly, sorrow on his face.
"Yes," he responds as he methodically lays out the blanket on the floor before carefully lifting the corpse and placing it in the center, taking note that it was a girl. Then, with slow fingers, begins to wrap the blanket around it before tying it closed with a cord. "It is an esalath'dialathe. It is presented to the falon'saota on the day of marriage. To be used for the first-born child." His voice wavers as tears start to gather in his eyes. He applies a couple of runes, to preserve the body as it is until it's burial.
courtship blanket... bondmate.
With gentle hands, he lifts the wrapped-up body of his daughter into his arms, when Cassandra and Lady Vivienne make their appearance.
"What is going... on here?" Cassandra's voice starts off strong but tapers off when she sees the sight of the cell. Of the tortured, half-conscious elf held in Iron Bull's arms. And especially of the small wrapped body held in Solas'.
"By Andraste, tell me that isn't...? Her question trails off, eyes still locked on the object in Solas' arms.
"It is," Solas mournfully says. "Her child... and mine." His grip tightens slightly on the wrapped corpse of his asha'lan.
daughter
Cassandra gags as Lady Vivienne makes her way to the Qunari, and the elf held in his arms.
"Now let's see here..." Vivienne mutters to herself as she places a hand on the elf's forehead, pouring healing magic into her body for a moment, before stepping back. "Well, that won't do."
"What's wrong, Vivienne?" asks Cassandra, taking her eyes off Solas to look at the Enchanter.
Vivienne purses her lips. "I can't finish healing her until she's replenished the blood she's lost. Purging the infection from her wounds will include more bleeding. But, with the number of wounds she has, this will mean a significant amount of blood loss. More than she currently has."
At those words, almost everyone there blanches. Everyone, but Solas.
Handling the bundle so he's holding it with one arm, he digs into his pack again before presenting the Enchanter a bottle.
"And what is this?" she asks him, arching one of her fine eyebrows at him.
"It's a blood replenisher. It should replenish enough that she won't die when you purge the infection from her body." Solas says, placing the bottle into her waiting hand.
"How did you make that?" Lavellan blurts out. "That potion was lost with the fall of..."
Solas cuts him off, "The fall of Arlathan and, subsequently, Elvhenan. I know." He gives the Herald a slightly watery smirk, taking his eyes off his nas'falon.
"Then how do you know of it?" asks Varric, the question that is in everyone's mind.
"Solas?" the injured elf asks, and he looks at her half-lidded eyes. They stare for a long moment, seemingly having a silent conversation, before she nods and he exhales a sigh before giving her a slight grin. He then looks at the assembled group.
"I will explain more in depth when she is healed and we are out of here. But the simplified version is that Vhen'an and I are not from this Age."
Dian. Tel'sal - Stop. Not again.
Sathan. Vara u'em dina.- Please. Leave me alone to die.
Vhen'an - My heart
Eman ma - I have you
Ahnas vun'in? - What is [the] day/date?
Tua'sal'adahl'man - Harvestmere (lit. Time of the tree's renewal)
Tua'sal'adahl'man or annar ualan'anan'sa - Harvestmere of [the] year 9:41
isa'nas'falon - His soulmate.
i'var'linem - was pregnant
es'an dalem var esha'lin - they killed our child
Mahn? - Where?
esalath'dialathe - courtship blanket
falon'saota - wife, husband, bond mate
asha'lan - daughter
A/N: Please don't kill me! (pops head up from behind a barrier) The death here is fundamental for the plot in this story! It won't always be this dark! Anonymous readers won't be allowed to review. So, rate and review to let me know what you think! Whitewolf3190 signing off! (ducks back behind barrier)