Chapter 9: The Aftermath

The walk to the cave somehow felt further on the way back. Three-quarters of the way there, Iron Bull turned to Solas, worried, and whispered, "Solas, I think something's wrong. She's been shaking for a while now and she's all feverish and sweating."

They stopped and Solas called Dorian and Morrigan over for help. He checked her pulse and discovered her heart was beating rapidly.

"What's wrong with her?" Iron Bull asked, hovering behind them.

"Withdrawal," Dorian said darkly. "Looks like the Venatori were keeping her heavily drugged."

"Can you tell what they used?"

Dorian surveyed her carefully, checking her pulse and her pupils. "No, I'm uncertain, though I can hazard a guess. Thankfully, it's not likely to be any form of lyrium."

"How can you be sure?" Solas asked, agonized to see her suffering.

"Because it would have affected the spells Karinna used. And I think it is likely the same drug she used to sedate the poor slaves she sacrificed. Plus, providing a mage with any kind of lyrium would be unwise if you want them to remain docile."

"Is there anything we can do?"

Dorian shook his head. "Not until we get back to Skyhold."

Solas removed his own cloak and wrapped it around her before The Iron Bull took her back up in his arms again. Bull's gaze lingered on Solas for a moment and a small smile tugged at his lips, but he said nothing.

Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine met them upon their return to Skyhold, relieved to find the Inquisitor still alive. At the mention of the withdrawal symptoms Cullen grimaced and a shadow drew across his face.

Dorian and Solas helped the surgeon assess her injuries and treated her as best they could, but there was little they could do to help with the withdrawal. "She's in for a hard few days," the surgeon said. "Most likely they used a powerful combination of Tevene opioids and narcotics. Anything I give her risks running an adverse reaction to something else. I'm afraid we must let the body heal on its own and make her comfortable as best we can. Now go off to bed, both of you, and let her rest. I can monitor her in the meantime."

Dorian was a bit reluctant to leave, but agreed and headed off.

"You too," the surgeon urged.

Solas shook his head. "No. I must stay."

The surgeon opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it as she noted the way Solas brushed aside the Inquisitor's hair to place a cool, damp cloth upon her forehead. "Alright. Send for me if there is a change in her condition. I'll be along in the morning to relieve you."

Solas thanked her and returned his attention to his beloved. He rinsed the cloth back in the basin and lowered it to her shivering skin, gently wiping away the grime from her time spent in a dank prison cell. The act reminded him of the time in the ruins, rinsing away the blood from her wound, restoring the purity of her supple skin. He took up the bar of soap from her dresser and brought it to his nose, breathing in the soft embrium scent. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if she would object to his administrations, but decided it was not unlike when she had offered to help him remove the blood from his back when he was injured. Then he dipped the soap into the basin and worked a lather into the cloth and passed it over her arms and hands, over her face and neck, and even around her pointed ears. He dared not go further than that without her express permission, however.

She shivered and he pulled the covers up over her, tucking her in as best he could. And then he knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his and tracing the edge of her cheek. He had practiced his apology in his head for weeks, but now that she was here, after all that had happened, he didn't know what to say. Everything was different now. He didn't even think that she could hear him. But he had to apologize. She deserved that much. "Vhenan," he began, though he didn't know at first what he wanted to say to her. "I was so scared you were lost to me forever. I was so terrified I would never see you again. So I swore to myself that I would stop at nothing to get you back. I do not care if you awaken and hate me for the rest of time. It is enough just to know your heart still beats on, even if it bears no love for me. You deserve better. You do. I cannot deny that my sins are many and I have little to offer you as I am now. But still my heart aches for you. Never has it held such a longing for someone the way I desire you. Never has it yearned for someone so good and noble. And I do not know why you chose me, although I'm glad you did. You have reminded me of who I am and who I want to be. You make me believe the world can be better. A foolish hope, and a lesson I should know better by now. But you inspire me. You give me the strength to believe in possibilities again. I know I acted as though I did not wish to be with you, but that could not be further from the truth. I know it in my heart and I cannot deny that I feel the same as you. I love you. I desire you. I wish to be by your side, as long as I can be. I know it is not the same as what others may be able to give you, and it may not be enough, but it is what I can offer you without losing myself. Please, vhenan, you must pull through this. You must come back."

But her eyes remained shut and she continued to shake and sweat. It did not matter. So long as she needed him he would stand vigil.

Dipping his hands into the ice water, he soaked the compress, letting the cold cut into him like a thousand needles. Then he wrung it out and replaced it upon her forehead. Though it did not take long before the warmth of her fever burned away the icy chill. And so he repeated the process, plunging his hands into icy water over and over again, hoping that her fever would break. For all his magics and abilities, he had never felt so powerless to help. But this he could still do. And so he stayed to care for her and offer her whatever comfort he could.

He awoke some time in the middle of the night, his hand still clasped over hers, bent over and resting his head on her side of the bed, as her voice whispered his name. "Solas…?"

His head snapped up and he saw Lavellan's sleepy eyes blinking at him as she shivered.

"Vhenan! You're awake!?"

Her eyes slowly moved about the room as things came into focus. "Am I dead? Are we in the Fade?"

He kissed her hand. "No, vhenan. You are alive and safe at home in bed."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Vhenan?" he asked, worriedly.

"So this is a dream," she murmured to herself, staring at his hand covering her own.

He shook his head. "No, this is real."

She shook her head and smiled at him sadly. "No, I must be dreaming. I woke up and you were still here with me."

His heart clenched. Then he took her hand and carefully raised it to his cheek as his other hand cupped hers. "I promise you, vhenan: this is real."

A tear slid down her cheek. "Then if I asked you to stay with me tonight, would you stay?" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Yes, vhenan. I will stay."

She inched back along the bed and pulled back the covers and he slipped beneath them, not caring that he was still fully clothed, and lay down next to her. She crept in under his arm and clung to his shirt as if frightened that he would dematerialize and slip away.

The night was not restful or easy, however. She had fevers, chills, hot flashes, and shivers. Several times she was physically sick, although the Venatori had starved her to the point where nothing came up. Watching her suffer and being unable to help was agony. She was thin and dehydrated, but because of the nausea she couldn't eat or drink anything. Her skin was waxy and grey.

When the morning came, the surgeon returned and after assessing her condition wore a very worried expression. "Whatever they mixed in that concoction they drugged her with, it's worse than I feared." She mixed an herbal tincture together and made her drink it, but it made her sick and wouldn't stay down. "I'll make a batch and we'll just have to keep trying. Has she been hallucinating?" she asked Solas.

"It is difficult to say. She has been quite poorly most of the night."

The surgeon nodded in understanding and sighed. "She is quite frail. And after what her body went through, it's not going to be an easy recovery. I fear too that the withdrawal will prevent her from getting proper nutrition and hydration. I wonder how much her body can take in this state."

"But she will recover?" It was more of a statement than a question. He couldn't imagine a world in which she didn't recover, after everything she'd been through.

"She has been through a great deal already, but she may, Andraste preserve her," the surgeon said with a sigh, inspecting Lavellan's hand and the faint green glow. "It's the hand I'm more concerned about. There's no telling how much damage its caused. Has she said if she's lost any more feeling in it?"

"What?"

The surgeon looked up. "In the hand? A few months ago she started losing feeling in the hand around the mark. Has there been any change?"

Solas's heart sank. He had not known. "I didn't know she was losing feeling in it. She hasn't said anything about it to me."

The surgeon looked rather apologetic and taken aback for having revealed her patient's secret. "Well, when she's well enough, we may be able to find out more. For now, if you could help make sure she gets some of this down and then…" she paused in packing away her medicinal supplies and pulled out a small bottle of an amber liquid. "She was held prisoner for several days, you said?"

"Yes," Solas nodded.

The surgeon set the small bottle down on the dresser. "And they tortured her?"

"Yes, though I healed the fractures and other wounds."

The surgeon pressed her lips together. "Then I'll leave this here. Have her drink it when she's able to drink two full cups of the tincture and a little bread."

"What is it for?" he asked, curious.

The surgeon closed up her bag with a snap, and took a deep breath, staring at the wall in front of her. "There's more than one form of torture. This will spare her any additional undue burden."

Solas picked up the bottle and read the inscription and felt a shadow fall across his mind for what he had not let himself consider.

"I have other patients. I will be back later." With that the surgeon departed, letting the heavy wooden door swing shut behind her.

Solas squeezed the small bottle in his fist.

There came a knock at the door then and several of the Inquisitor's companions entered. Josephine placed a ridiculously large and elaborate bouquet of flowers in a vase on the dresser, to which Varric and Cullen both rolled their eyes.

"How is she doing today? Is she well?" Leliana asked.

"Still suffering through the withdrawal. She is sleeping now." He did his best to keep himself composed, but the small bottle in his fist was held in a white-knuckled grip.

"How are you, Chuckles?" Varric asked, folding his arms over his chest. "You look like you could use some rest."

"I need some air," he replied, brushing past them and out the door.

The Iron Bull and Dorian were coming up the main hall when they ran into Solas. "Ah! Solas, how is our dear patient doing this morning? Bull and I were just on our way up to see her. Has-" he stopped as Solas brushed past him.

"Should we follow him?" The Iron Bull asked, scratching one of his ears.

"Probably best, though we may wish to keep a safe distance. He looks like he wants to murder someone and I'd rather not get in his way." The two of them did just that, keeping a healthy distance from him.

Solas picked up a sword off one of the racks used by the trainees for drills and promptly began to hack and slash at a practice dummy with brutal savagery. "Someone mind explaining what's going on?" Blackwall said, coming over to investigate upon hearing the destruction.

"We've no idea," Dorian shrugged. "Although, remind me never to get on his bad side," he said, as the severed head of the dummy flew across the yard and rolled towards their feet.

"What are you all doing?" Cassandra asked, walking up to them. "I heard the commotion on my way in and-Is that Solas?" she asked in disbelief. Then she rounded on the others. They all flinched away from her glare. "What did you all do?"

"Dunno," Iron Bull said, shrugging his crossed arms. "He passed by us on our way up to see the boss and now…" he trailed off as Solas knocked over a practice dummy with surprising force and repeatedly sunk his sword down into the practice dummy's chest.

"Well, something has clearly set him off."

"I think it might have to do with whatever he's got in his hand," Blackwall grumbled, scratching his head.

"Nah, I think this is just rage. I felt the same way after I failed the boss. Nearly broke a horn smashing up a boulder. Maybe I should offer to spar…" Iron Bulls trailed off then as Solas hurled the practice dummy against the wall and began viciously attacking it with fireballs and shards of ice.

"Or maybe you should wait until he's a little less likely to incinerate you," Dorian suggested.

Cassandra's eyebrow raised still higher as his continued attacks did not relent in their ferocity. "What has happened to him?"

"Lost and blind in anger. Seething, screaming, suffering in self-loathing. He failed her and blames himself. He believes it is all his fault and he cannot undo it. He is afraid to know the truth," Cole said, appearing on the small fence beside them.

"Oh good, the demon has arrived to tell us what is wrong," Cassandra frowned, having never been particularly fond of Cole.

"Don't mind the lady with no fashion sense, Cole. Now can you give us any more detail besides the vague angry emotions? We figured that much out for ourselves."

"Don't worry, I think I know how to handle this," Blackwall said, picking up a shield and his own sword. Hoisting the shield up and readying himself he approached Solas from behind. "How about you hit something that hits back," he suggested.

Solas rounded on him, panting, but still very much in a rage. "I'd prefer it if you stayed out of my way and let me be," he roared, picking up the sword again and attacking one of the surviving dummies.

Blackwall risked a move and stepped in to parry a blow and Solas's nostrils flared in anger, but Blackwall didn't flinch.

"Get out of the way," Solas hissed.

But Blackwall grounded his stance and raised his shield. "No."

Solas tried to turn away, but Blackwall got in his way and swung the sword down, forcing him to engage. He leveled his eyes with Blackwall and attacked with a swift and sudden savagery. In less than thirty heartbeats and with only one hand at play, Solas knocked him flat on his back with a spin and a well-placed kick. He stood over Blackwall, breathing hard, still seething, but restrained.

Then Solas felt a tap on his shoulder and Iron Bull stood there behind him, practice staff in hand. In one swift motion, he smacked Solas in the side. Instead of using his arm to block the blow, Solas brought his hand to his chest protectively, taking the full force of the blow to his left side.

"Come on!" Iron Bull bellowed at him. "Fight back!"

Solas set his jaw and adjusted his stance. But with a two-handed reach and considerable height and weight on his side, The Iron Bull posed much more of a threat. The staff came at him again and he dodged, but then it swung back around and he only barely deflected it. Solas circled him and then moved quickly, attacking at the weak points he remembered from watching The Iron Bull in previous fights. He fell to one knee with a groan, but then Bull lashed out and knocked him in the side. He countered and Iron Bull managed to get in several more strikes, which Solas gladly returned.

"What is going on here?"

They broke apart and turned to see Varric looking very confused by the display. He glanced around the circle, but only The Iron Bull offered a response.

"Working some things out," he growled, cracking his neck.

Varric rubbed his neck. "Ooookayy… Solas," he jerked his thumb back at the castle. "She's awake. And asking for you."

Solas dropped the sword and hurried up the steps, still clutching the small bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of it grow the closer he got to her room.

When he came up the final set of stairs and saw Cullen sitting by her bedside he felt the adrenaline from his fight surge in his heart. Cullen sat at the edge of the bed and was recounting a rather animated anecdote to entertain her. Even in her poorly state she managed a small smile at the final line of his story. Then she noticed Solas and Cullen followed her gaze.

Cullen's lips tightened into a thin line for a moment when he saw Solas, but by the time he turned back to Lavellan his smile was one of genuine affection. "I had best be going. I will check back in with you later and bring over some of that ginger tea. I'm sure it will be just the thing to set you to rights."

"Thank you, Cullen. That's very kind," she said.

He lingered a moment, returning her smile and giving her hand a squeeze before standing and making his way towards the door. Pausing for only a brief moment, he gave Solas a firm, assessing glare riddled with disapproval and a hint of resentment.

Even after Cullen had left and the two were alone, Solas stood there, uncertain, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, still clenching the small bottle.

She didn't raise her head to greet him or even smile a hello. Instead, she frowned slightly, studying him. "Would you have a seat?" she asked, gesturing to the chair beside her bed that Cullen had just vacated.

"Certainly," he accepted, taking the seat.

She cocooned herself in her sheets, eyes glassy and sweat beading along her forehead as feverish chills wracked her body. As weak as she was, she was at least beginning to feel like her mind had returned to her.

"You asked for me?"

She nodded weakly. "I wanted to ask you… to forgive me," she said, her voice rough and hoarse.

"Vhenan, there is nothing to forgive. You are not the one at fault here. It is I who should be the one apologizing and begging forgiveness." He set the small bottle on the bedside table and took her hand in his.

Tears crept into her eyes and she shook her head. "No. I was angry and rash. I didn't even give you the chance to say anything before I left. I was just so hurt that I didn't know what to do so I left at the first sign-"

He cut her off by kissing her.

She gave a small start of surprise, but then kissed him back.

"I was so worried," he whispered when they broke apart. "I was so worried I would lose you." He cupped her cheek and smoothed her skin with his thumb.

She gripped his wrist and smiled at him. "I thought that perhaps I had dreamed a vision of you and that you were not real."

"It was real, vhenan. I stayed," he told her, kissing her forehead.

The relief lit up her face. "Then do you still want to be with me?"

"Yes, of course. It is all I want."

"Then will you be with me again? My heart ached for you." She reached up and smoothed his worried brow.

He kissed her hand delicately. "Yes, vhenan. My heart is yours."

She nodded and fresh, joyful tears spread down her cheeks. "Good. Good, because I don't want to lose you, Solas. I want to keep you, no matter what. If you want to keep what we have private, I will accept that. But I just-I can't-" Her chin started to wobble and she pinched her eyes shut, choking back a sob.

"I will stay with you, vhenan. Though privacy may have eluded us. It appears all of our companions have taken bets regarding our affairs."

She laughed, wiping away her tears. "You mean the sex bet? Yes, I'm very aware. I caught Josephine handing Leliana a sizable stack of gold after you left this morning."

"Then you are not surprised?"

She suppressed a laugh. "No. Not in the least. I suspect they all know and keep quiet so they don't have to pay up."

He grinned. "You're not wrong in that respect."

"They're silly to have bet against us in the first place. I could never resist your charms," she teased.

Solas smiled, thinking that he had been rather adept at keeping his charms under wraps. It was her charms that had been so irresistible.

A shiver ran through her and she pulled the blankets tighter around herself.

"How are you feeling, vhenan?" he asked, taking the cloth from the table and soaking it in cool water from the basin.

"Not wonderful. I'm not sure what they drugged me with, but it really did things to my head. I had strange, bizarre hallucinations when I tried to sleep."

"I tried to find you in the Fade. But you were not wholly there. Something was amiss. I feared the worst." He gently placed the cool rag to her forehead.

She gave a shudder as a particularly bad chill ran down her spine. "In truth, I was very delirious during the time I was conscious. I slept, mostly. The only time I had any degree of clarity was before the experiments. They weaned me off the drugs so my magic wasn't affected."

He bit back the bitter taste that rose in the back of his throat at the memory of her screams.

"Solas?" Her voice was gentle as she reached for his arm. "What is it?"

He shook his head, trying to clear the memories, but they pressed themselves upon him, a burning reminder of what had happened. "It is nothing."

"No, it isn't. Something is bothering you, I know it. Please, talk to me. Let me help." Her touch was a soothing balm upon his aching heart and he relented, squeezing her hand in his.

"I tried to find you in the Fade. I found the fortress and inside, deep in the dungeons, I found your memory…" He bit his lip, unable to press on.

"Which memory, Solas?"

"They tortured you." It came out as a gasp and he pinched his eyes shut. "I watched a man beat you for the thrill it gave him. And I saw what they did to you up on that altar. It tore my heart to pieces when I heard your screams. I thought you would die before my eyes and I would be helpless to stop them." He lowered his head over the precious hands of his beloved, clutching them tightly, as if she might slip away from him.

"Solas," she whispered in his ear, kissing the top of his head. "It's alright. I'm going to be alright. In time."

"But I could not protect you. I failed you," his voice cracked as he admitted it, hating himself for his failure and weakness. "If I had not driven you away, if I had been there, I might have-"

"Stop. Solas, please. You are not to blame. I have enemies everywhere. I put myself in danger. You saved me. I would not have lasted much longer under the blood magic and the power of the ritual. Without you and our friends, I would be dead."

"The anchor almost killed you. It pulled you into the sky." It was his fault that she had it in the first place. Guilt pressed upon his heart.

"But I pulled it back. And then you fixed the wards, or so Leliana says."

A shadow passed over his face and he did his best to hide the anguish in his voice. "The surgeon said you have lost feeling in the hand. Why did you not tell me?"

She pulled back her left hand and ran her thumb over the glowing mark. "Because I didn't want to worry you. We both knew this mark would be the death of me if Corypheus didn't get there first. Besides, it was only a little loss around the edges. I just assumed it was a natural consequence of using the anchor to close the Rifts. Seems like a small price to pay."

"You should not have to pay a price to begin with. You should never have come into contact with Corypheus or the orb." That was his fault. His failure.

She gave a small chuckle. "Well, it hasn't been all bad. Not when I have an attractive elven apostate playing healer to me."

"But it has cost you so much."

"Have I not also gained much? I have the entire Inquisition, Skyhold, and you. All of which I am thankful for."

"But what about the price? If it costs you your hand, your clan, your family-"

"Ah, yes. That." She bit her lip and shrugged, though he could tell he hit a nerve. She shrunk back into her blankets as another shiver went through her and she felt like she might be sick. "They don't understand the Inquisition. The Dalish are not trusting by nature, so it is not unsurprising. One can hardly blame them for not allowing 'The Herald of Andraste' to re-enter their good graces with ease. Not that I ever claimed the title."

"The Dalish are fools to cast you aside."

"They are afraid and have a right to be suspicious. I cannot blame them."

"You are too good to them. Even after they have cast you aside-"

"They are my people, Solas. As much as you despise them for their ways, they are mine and I grew up with the same distrust, fears, and prejudices that we have kept as a form of self-preservation. I learned to be better to others, but it took years to unlearn my beliefs and it was a difficult struggle. I can only hope that over time they see that the Inquisition is a good organization and not one to be feared. That I am not someone to be feared. I do not need them to stand by me in order for me to stand by them."

He bit back a bitter remark about the Dalish. "You deserve better."

"So do many. And so do the Dalish. We have had much taken from us and yet you despise us for our lack of knowledge or different beliefs as if that is our fault. It isn't. Our history was taken from us." She pressed her hands to the sides of her temples then as a pounding headache drummed against her skull.

"Vhenan?"

"Ugh, my head."

"Here, try drinking some of the tincture the surgeon left." Filling a glass, he helped her sit up in bed and she drank from the glass, grimacing and coughing as she pulled away.

"Ugh, that tastes like muddy bog water."

"It should help you recover," he urged, pressing the glass back into her hand.

She pinched her nose and swallowed some more of it, breathing out a heavy sigh. "Well it's staying down, surprisingly," she grumbled. She caught sight of his face as he stared at the small bottle beside the bed and her eyes followed his. "More medicine?" she grimaced, taking the soft roll from the plate on the bedside table and eating a bite to get rid of the taste of muddy bog water from her mouth. When he said nothing she reached across and took the bottle, reading the label. She rolled it around in her hand with a curious expression for a brief moment until realization set in. Then she stilled and she knew why he was so silent. "This isn't for the drugs or their effects, is it?" she asked, in case she was wrong. She did not claim to be an expert in all medicinal items. It was possible the small bottle of blood lotus extract had another purpose. Although his grim expression and lack of eye contact told her that her assumptions were most likely correct.

"The surgeon had concerns given your circumstances. She left the bottle in case it was necessary."

Though she was quiet for a moment she set the bottle back down. "I don't believe that will be necessary." She crossed her arms protectively across her chest and pulled the sheet back up to her neck as a shiver that had nothing to do with her illness shot up her spine.

"If there's a chance-" his voice cut out and he bit his lip, trying to find the strength to help and be there for her.

"I don't believe there is. The Venatori were… afraid to get near me after I killed the man who tortured me."

He wanted to believe her, but he was afraid that it might still be possible she didn't remember or wish to say anything in his presence. "If you were drugged, you might not remember if something happened to you."

She was quiet for a moment and then said, "I will have the surgeon examine me then."

For a moment he tried to think of something to say, but no words of comfort came to him, so he left to fetch the surgeon.