Chapter 2: A Crown of Flowers

They wandered further, this time entering the large stone structure that resembled a large banquet hall. Part of the ceiling had caved in at the eastern corner and moonlight and stars glowed above them. Several tapestries had been torn down and some of the wooden furniture lay smashed to pieces against the stone walls. The frames where elaborate stained glass windows would have stood high above them had been shattered and pieces of broken glass were scattered about, along with leaves and dust.

"Someone's been here not too long ago," she commented, pointing to drag marks in the dust with her staff. She crouched down and inspected the wood in the large, ornate hearth, poking at it with her staff. "Maybe a week or two back, I'm guessing. Bandits, most likely."

Solas silently agreed with her, taking stock of the relatively clean tankards upon the top of the banquet table. A cask of ale was still perched at the opposite end. "It appears they left in rather a hurry."

She turned away from a wardrobe that had clearly been used as target practice by some archer with a scowl in distaste. "I wonder if they ran into trouble with more bandits? Or perhaps a scheme gone wrong? Rockslides are common in these parts. Maybe nature took care of them."

Leaving the thoughts of bandits behind, Solas crossed the room to where a throne had been toppled over and righted it, centering it back in front of the windows where it must have once supported the Keeper of the clans that lived here long ago. Now it was just a piece of forgotten furniture. He sank onto it, surveying the interior of the room before shutting his eyes and imagining what it must have been like in its prime. Where elves dressed in finery danced and sang and made merry. Where rulings were made and issues discussed and problems were laid to rest. He could smell the roasting meat and taste the sweet honey cakes from celebrations ages ago. Perhaps marriages had taken place in this very spot. Or funerals held for fallen kin. He could picture it all so clearly in his mind's eye: the songs, the dancing, the feasts, the conversations: all of the past. Somewhere in the Fade there must be memories or a spirit who remembered this place. When next he dreamt, he could visit this place and see what it once was.

He stirred from his thoughts as something touched his head and tickled his ears.

"There. Now you look the part," she praised, backing away from him wearing a satisfied smile.

Reaching up, he felt the smooth shape of leaves and delicate blossoms.

"It's a crown," she explained, still beaming at him. "I made it from one of the flowering vines coming in from the window over there. It suits you."

He could not help but return her smile; her joy was infectious. "I doubt anyone would follow my orders if I gave them while wearing a crown of flowers," he said, removing it. The flowers themselves were beautiful and gave off a gentle, pleasing fragrance similar to jasmine. Turning it over in his hands, he admired the craftsmanship, impressed by her skill at weaving the vines together with a delicate hand so as not to damage the blossoms.

"Nonsense. A man who wore a crown like that before his subjects is clearly not a man afraid of anything."

He stood then and stepped closer to her, placing the crown on top of her hair. The white petals stood out against the color of her hair and yet it suited her perfectly, accentuating her natural grace and elegance. "A crown of such craftsmanship deserves a leader worthy of its beauty."

Her lips curled into a soft smile. Stepping closer to him, she tilted her head and raised herself up to kiss him. As her eyes fluttered shut a sound like scratching reached their ears. "What is that?" she said, whipping her head around, ears straining for the source of the sound. "I think it's coming from behind there," she said, pointing to a bookcase across the room. "Look at the scuff marks. Someone's moved it recently." She pressed her ear to the wall. "Yes, it's definitely coming from there. Oh no, you don't think the bandits trapped someone in there?" But she didn't wait for his response before shoving the bookcase with all her might to reveal a door. The sound came again only this time it didn't sound like scratching. It sounded like-

Brute force sent the door flying as darkspawn burst through from the other side. Caught off guard, the bookcase fell, knocking Lavellan to the side.

Solas's barrier spell barely manifested in time to prevent her from being crushed. But then the creatures were spilling out like water from a burst dam. A huge spider scuttled towards her, snapping its pincers. "Vhenan!" he cried.

She was still scrambling to reach her staff, which lay useless across the room.

He tried to run forward when two deepstalkers leapt upon him. Sharp claws raked down his back and teeth snapped by his ears. Flinging the first one from him he summoned a coat of static electricity around himself, sending the creatures leaping at him flying back. It gave him just enough time to aim spells in defense. One deepstalker didn't get back up, but the other rebounded and leapt right back at him again. A well-aimed fireball put an end to it though.

A cry tore his attention back to his beloved in time to see bolt on lightning flash violet from the heavens, striking the spider perfectly. It shuddered and then collapsed to the ground, dead. "Vhenan," he breathed, terrified, heart in his throat for a moment until he saw her crawl out from underneath the spider, squirming in disgust: she loathed spiders. He didn't have time to help her though before another giant spider and three more deepstalkers came through the opening in the wall, running at him in full force. Leaping to the side, he dodged one and smashed the skull of another deepstalker with his staff. The spider was faster though, when all of a sudden a shower of ice shards speared into its side. He turned in time to see her throw herself in front of him, staff in hand, as a firestorm shot forth, forcing the spider to retreat back into the wall.

With one hand she conjured an ice wall that sprouted from nothing and sealed the crack with thick sheets of ice and with the other hand she lashed out with her staff, electrocuting a deepstalker that had decided to try and take a bite out of her instead. "Solas!" she cried, and he ducked just in time to avoid the deepstalker launching itself at his back. Her spell collided with it just in time above his head, sending the creature flying back to the ground, skewered by a single ice spear. The ice shattered on the ground as the creature landed, but it did not get back up. They both braced themselves, ready for more of a fight, but nothing else leapt out at them. A quick fire spell to burn the corpses finished off any remaining threat.

"Vhenan-" he turned to her, concern written all over his face. "Are you injured? For a moment I thought-"

"I know. Me too. But I'm fine. Are you-?" she began to ask, but then she covered her mouth in horror at the blood soaking his sleeve. "Solas, you're hurt!"

Looking down he realized he had not registered the severity of the wounds in the moment, but the deepstalker's claws had cut deep into his skin.

She swore in elvish, catching him as he stumbled forward, swaying from the blood loss. "Here, sit, sit. Let me see," she said, lowering him to the stone floor with care.

He sagged, but was able to keep himself upright as the adrenaline faded and the pain set in.

"Where is that bloody light!" she swore. Finding it amongst the wreckage, she scraped it off the ground and relit the candle inside. She set it down beside him and pulled out a potion from her pocket. "Drink this," she said, uncorking the bottle and pressing it into his left hand.

He obeyed, draining it all. The effect was almost instantaneous. "Vhenan," he said calmly, as she fretted over his arm, trying to peel back the sleeve to see the extent of the wounds. "Vhenan, I can-"

"Be quiet while I heal your arm?" she suggested before letting out a sigh of frustration. "It goes all the way to your shoulder. I'm sorry," she said as he winced from the pain. "I'm going to need to cut the sleeve away."

"Here. Allow me to assist," he tried to shrug off his outer vestments, but the deepstalker's claws must have torn a ligament because he couldn't move his shoulder without severe pain.

"Here, let me," she said, moving closer and quickly undoing the metal buttons.

His vision slightly blurred as her fingers carefully slid the outer leather layer off. He grimaced as it passed over his shoulder.

As it fell to the floor she swore again, looking at him in horror as her hands came away from his back bloody. Peering over his shoulder she cursed again. "They got your back too. Oh, this isn't good. Here. Drink this one too," she shoved another potion into his hand and again he obliged. "Yes, good. That will help with the blood loss. Now, I'm sorry, but seeing as your shirt is already properly ruined…" she pulled out a knife and carefully sliced down the sleeve from the neckline, exposing the wounds on his shoulder and his back.

He sagged, but luckily she caught him, resting his chin on her shoulder to support the weight of him. "Vhenan…"

But she did not hear him, too busy concentrating on her own spell as she passed her hand over his arm, healing the wounds.

He could feel the skin stitching itself back together as he breathed in the soft woodfire and embrium scent of her hair. Whether it was the sweet scent or the numbing agents in the potion that calmed him, he wasn't certain, but welcomed the sensation all the same. "Vhenan," he breathed against her neck.

"I've got you. Don't worry, Solas."

"I am not worried, vhenan. I am with you." He rested against her shoulder, thankful. Her hands wrapped around his back, hovering over his skin, sending a tingle of electricity up his spine as she continued with her healing spell. The intoxicating scent of her hair soothed him as the pain slowly faded away.

"There. I think it's healed well. Drink one more of these for blood loss though," she pressed another potion bottle into his hand.

Reluctantly pulling himself away from the comfort of her embrace, he swallowed the potion and instantly felt new warmth flood through his fingertips.

"How do you feel?" she asked gently, taking the empty bottle from him and setting it down beside her.

His vision came back to him and in the light of the lantern he noticed the blood all over her own clothes. "Vhenan, your shirt-"

She looked down at herself, confused, then shook her head. "It's only a shirt. I'm afraid yours is worse," she grimaced.

It was true, for as he looked down at himself and inspected his hands he noted the sticky coating of blood that had soaked into the cloth and covered his skin. It was bizarre for him though. He was not used to being exposed like this. "There's no saving it now," he said, carefully slipping it over his head and peeling it away. It stuck a little, but once it was gone he felt better. He glanced up from his body to see her quickly glance away. For a moment he considered calling her out for her lingering gaze, but decided against it. She turned away and took off her outer layer, wiping her bloody hands off on it as best she could.

"I think we'll both need a wash, but maybe you should rest for a little longer. You lost quite a bit of blood. Best not to rush until you're fully healed."

"I feel much better now. Thank you, vhenan."

Her smile faltered and she turned to bring the lantern closer. She paused, holding the lantern and staring at it with a curious expression. "Solas, do you know what this is?"

"A lantern," he replied, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the obvious answer.

"Yes, but no. It's more than that. Here, look." She twisted the top and rotated the shutter. Against the wall curious shapes glowed from the light: a fish, a mage, a duck, and other symbols. "It's a story lantern. I haven't seen one since I was a child. I wonder which story… Ah! Yes, I know this one."

Charmed by her delight, he asked, "What is the story?"

"It probably has a few different names, but my parents referred to it as The Wish of the Fish. Would you like to hear it?"

He smiled at her. "Most certainly."

She grinned back, twisting the lantern to the beginning. "Give me a minute to remember the details. Ah, yes. Our story begins in a small little pond. In this small little pond there lived a little fish who lived with his clan." The wall lit up with several fish. In the flickering candlelight the fish danced and shimmered as if they were swimming. "The little fish was tired of being a little fish because he spent most of his day swimming away from the bigger fish. One day the little fish met a mage who was fishing at the pond." A figure with pointed ears and a staff illuminated the wall. "The mage accidentally catches him on his fishing line and upon seeing that the little fish was too small, removed him from the hook to throw him back. 'Wait!' cries the little fish. 'Don't throw me back into the pond.' When the mage asks him why not the little fish says 'I don't like it in there. I'm a little fish and I always have to be afraid of the bigger fish trying to eat me!'"

Solas couldn't help but smile as she mimicked the childish voice.

"'But you've got it better than most. If you were a big fish I would have taken you home to be my dinner.' This frightened the poor little fish, but he gathered his courage and said, 'That's just as bad! I don't want to be a fish in a pond. Please, oh great and powerful mage, won't you turn me into some other animal so I don't have to live this life anymore?' Well the mage took pity on the little fish and turned him into a duck.'"

"A duck?" Solas asked, bemused.

"Yes, or a swan. I've heard it both ways. But in this version it's a duck." She twisted the shutter to reveal the silhouette of a duck. "At first the little fish was so happy to be a duck. He stretched his wings and flew up high into the sky. Then one day he was nearly shot down by an archer and learned that flying wasn't necessarily better than swimming. He tried to make friends with the other ducks, but they were mean and tried to bite him when he got too close. This made him miss his clan of fish."

"Clan of fish? Is it not 'school of fish'?"

"Not in the Dalish version. And then, after spending so much time in the big wide world and finding it not to be what he thought, he came back to his pond in search of the mage, but the mage had gone, for he had caught all the big fish in the pond ages ago and moved on to a new pond with more fish. Sadly, the clan of fish did not remember him, nor did they know the language of ducks, and though he stayed atop that small pond for ages to come, the littlest fish was never truly able to rejoin his clan." She spun the shutter one last time and the shapes disappeared. "Well? What do you think? Have you heard it before?"

He shook his head, contemplating. "No. Not that one, though there is a similar fable called The Trickster Mage that has similar elements. The difference is that at the end of that particular story one is left with the moral that it is best to be wary of mages because they do not always uphold their promises."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose one could say that of The Wish of the Fish as well, but it's more difficult to say. My father always ended it with a different lesson each time, like 'Don't go running off. The grass isn't always greener on the other side!' or 'Don't trust magic you don't understand' or 'Stop wishing for feathers. You'll grow into your ears someday.' Things like that." She smiled to herself.

"He makes you sound like quite a rebellious daughter."

"Yes, well, I was certainly troublesome from his perspective. I never liked following the rules and being told what to do."

Solas chuckled quietly to himself.

"And what do you find so funny about that?" she asked, daring him with a look.

"Nothing. It is just perhaps ironic. I wonder what your father thinks of you now as the Inquisitor. Many believe the Inquisition itself is an act of rebellion."

She smirked at the thought. "I like to imagine he'd be proud of his rebellious, Dalish daughter commanding a force that intimidates both Ferelden and Orlais. Except for the other part where he's terribly ashamed of the fact that I am called 'The Herald of Andraste' and spend so much time around dwarves and humans and Qunari and didn't stay in my village and marry the respectable man he picked out for me."

This caught Solas by surprise. "You were to be married?"

She nodded as if it were nothing.

"What happened?" he asked it before he could stop himself or think of a more tactful turn of phrase.

She spun the top of the lantern, sending light scattering about the room. "I told my father I didn't want to marry him. And he told me that I must marry the man he chooses so long as I lived with the clan. So I left."

Perhaps it was his thirst for knowledge, but that alone was not answer enough for Solas. "That must have taken a good deal of bravery to set out on your own."

She picked at the blood under her fingernails. "I don't know if it was brave. Selfish, perhaps. Certainly rebellious. I went to the Keeper and asked to be sent away as an envoy or an ambassador or traveling merchant, I was so desperate. She agreed and I was able to stay in touch with my clan, even though it was not in the capacity my father wished."

"Are you still close with your clan? What became of your intended?" He tried his best to appear only mildly curious as he asked.

She smirked, knowing full well he was intrigued. Ignoring the first part, she told him the truth like it was a delicious piece of gossip. "He married my sister. They have three healthy children, last I'd heard. He treats her well, though I do not believe it was the best match, given their personalities. But from what I've heard, she is relatively happy and he is happy and my father is happy."

"And are you happy?"

The question surprised her and she looked up into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. She considered for a long time before she gave her response. "I don't know that this is the life I would have chosen for myself. Much of what I've lived through cannot be called 'happy' in any sense of the word. Truthfully, the weight of it is difficult to bear and there are nights when I am afraid to fall asleep for fear of what I might see in my nightmares. But I am also proud of so much that we've overcome. And I like the person that I am. Thinking about who I am versus who I might have been feels like a double-edged sword. There may have been moments when I would have been happy. But I think it would have felt wrong in my heart. I would have regretted it, in the end. Because it wasn't true to who I was and what I wanted. So I suppose, if being true to oneself is happiness, then yes, I am happy." He considered her and something about his assessing eyes made her feel like he could see down into her soul. "Why don't we find some place to clean up?" she suggested, rising to her feet and offering him her hand.

He accepted it and rose and together they made their way back outside to the fountain. They stopped to pick up the bag of medical supplies and Solas stooped to pick up the crown of flowers, which he replaced upon her head with a satisfied smile.