~Even More Personal Issues~
Solas sat alone in that quiet place where they first met so long ago. The memory was so dear to him that it felt like it happened only yesterday. Once long ago, he wandered, searched and listened until he came into this grove as he walked the land of dreams until he found Wisdom, one of the rarest and most gentle of all Spirits. She found him when he first began his journeys into the Fade.
For a young cocky elf, full of youthful zeal and bolstered by arrogance, it was nothing short of a miracle for him to encounter a spirit such a her. When he wanted to jump into action, she taught him the importance of patience. When he was angry, she would counsel him. When he made one terrible mistake after another, she would help him find the wisdom needed to try again, to find a solution.
And then, she was gone. And the world was poorer for it. Snuffed out like a dying candle, by his own hand.
Skyhold, A Few Days Ago...
Solas sat at his desk in the middle of the rotunda in the Skyhold library. He was forcing himself to take another sip of some terrible tasting black tea that had more caffeine than water in it. This poor excuse for a beverage tasted worse than anything he had tasted during his travels in the wilderness. But he had to drink. The dreams of his friend would only continue to plague him if he didn't.
"Someone piss in your tea?" Rajmael asked noticing the sour look on Solas' face while he sipped his drink.
"May as well have for how good it tastes, but I detest tea as a rule." Solas grimaced. "But this morning I needed to shake the dreams from my mind. I...may also need a favor."
That came as a surprise to Rajmael. Solas was very private and self-sufficient, and rarely asked anyone for anything unless it was very important. "Oh? That's unusual, coming from you, hahren. It must be important."
"Extremely." Solas confirmed getting out of his chair. "One of my oldest friends has been captured, forced into slavery by mages. I heard the cry for help as I dreamed. But now I can think of nothing else."
"Is your friend another apostate? Is that how your able to hear the cry in your dreams?"
"No, not at all." Solas chuckled. "My friend is a Spirit of Wisdom. Unlike many of the spirits we've encountered that clamor to enter this world, my friend was dwelling quite happily in the Fade until the mages captured it."
Rajmael's brow furrowed curiously. "Strange. Why would anyone want to capture a Spirit of Wisdom? Most mages capture or bind spirits for combat or necromancy, but those are usually demons, not benign spirits."
"You're right." Solas nodded. "Even the most novice mage can summon a spirit of rage or pride to do its bidding, but Wisdom is something else entirely. If they were seeking lore and history, they could easily speak to it in the Fade. But my friend does possess knowledge also lost to history. It is possible they seek information that it will not give, and intend to torture it."
Rajmael sighed deeply. "Then we shouldn't waste any time. If these mages are stooping to torture a non-aggressive spirit, then whatever knowledge or purpose they have cannot be a good one."
"Thank you. You've no idea how important my friend is to me." Solas smiled. "I was able to get a sense of where my friend was summoned. I can lead use there now."
For the sake of getting to Solas' friend quickly, everyone went to Master Dennet to acquire a mount. The Fereldan horsemaster was able to adequately find a suitable mount for each of them. Although, some were easier to oblige than others.
Rajmael rode Neirin while Solas was carried by a Tirashan Swiftwind gifted to the Inquisition by Agent Loranil's clan. Both the elven mages rode their halla as though it were easier than walking, and while everyone else was also riding, not all of them made it look so easy. Rajmael was actually impressed with Solas' riding skill. The Tirashan Swiftwing was famous amongst the Dalish for its fierce intelligence, independence, and its inability to suffer foolish riders. Yet this one excepted Solas without a fuss, and Solas rode the hart better than some Dalish elves Rajmael had seen.
Both of their residential knights rode rather well. The Seeker rode an Amaranthine Charger known for its spirit and being uncommon even to knights, while Blackwall rode a hearty Fereldan Forder. Cassandra was trained from an early age to master all forms of combat, including riding, and Blackwall was formerly a tourney knight and often competed in the prestigious jousts of the Free Marches. Both of them were trained to ride for days on end in military marching formation, both on foot and mounted, and knew how to hold their reigns and gallop at the pace that was expected of them.
Dorian rode an Imperial Warmblood from his native Tevinter, valued for being as old as Tevinter expansionism, while Vivienne rode an Orlesian Courser of the same breed prized by Chevaliers. Both of the imperialistic mages rode their horses as though they were flaunting themselves before the whole world, both of them being of noble status, they learned to ride to show themselves off to other nobles.
Everyone else on the other hand, had a little more difficulty adjusting to riding. Varric, a born and bred city-dwelling surface dwarf, who absolutely hated the outdoors, and had next to no riding experience, was forced to share a ride with someone. Unfortunately, that someone was Cole. It wasn't the horse that was the problem, the Free Marches Ranger they were riding was quite tame and easy going. No, the problem was the fact that Cole's absurdly large hat and disheveled hair that made it difficult to see the road, it was the fact that he kept talking to his horse and kept himself from pay attention to the road. But Varric knew he was definitely better off riding with the Kid than with Sera.
Also being one who preferred the city as opposed to the outdoors, Sera wasn't given much to riding. Just getting on the saddle was a lesson in humility to the Red Jenny. Now Sera was struggling to control the Taslin Strider she had just spent ten minutes trying to get on. And if it wasn't the horse misbehaving, it was Sera almost sliding right off the saddle because she couldn't properly keep her feet in the stirrups.
"Dear Sera, surely you've ridden before?" Vivienne asked mockingly after Sera finally fell off her horse. "It's so easy for anyone with the proper instruction, yet you make it seem like such a chore."
"Oh, shut it, Madam Iron-Butt!" Sera hissed getting off the ground. "Not all of us get to ride your stupid horses. That's something you prissy nobb-types like to do to make yourselves feel bigger than everyone else by riding in the streets to feel so important when everyone knows you smell like horse butt."
"Would you care for the proper instructions? I could show you how to ride like a lady." Vivienne offered as an insult. "Perhaps I could also instruct you how to smell like a lady, too. That would be an accomplishment."
"And maybe you'd like to find some that horse's ass-apples in your next meal. See how they smell." Sera threatened.
"Hey, Boss! Check this out!" Iron Bull hollered as he rode out of the stable. Everyone's jaw practically fell off their face at the sight of what the giant qunari was riding. It looked like a nug, but it was bigger than a bronto! On top of its head was a large set of ram-like horns that curled back from the top of its skull, but that wasn't the most shocking part. This oversized nug had fists. Actual ape-like fists connected to arms that were as thick a tree trunks.
"Wh-what is that...creature?" Cassandra asked not believing her eyes.
"I think it's a nuggalope." Solas answered intrigued. "I've heard of such creatures, but I've never actually seen one."
"At this point, nothing surprises me anymore." Blackwall sighed.
"Holy shit!" Rajmael swore in shock. "That? That thing is a fucking nug?!"
"I know, right?" Iron Bull laughed. "Can you believe that the Avvar who joined us from Stone-Bear Hold actually gave this thing to us? I would have easily paid an ass-load of money for this thing."
"I haven't got any other mounts in store that could carry that damned oxman without being broken in half." Master Dennet explained. "I figured since the Avvar ride these things, then perhaps your mercenary can as well. 'Sides, he seems to enjoy it."
"Are those fists?!" Varric pointed to the massive nug's balled digits.
"Damned right! Show 'em, Tama-2!" Iron Bull pointed to a nearby big rock jutting out of the ground, and his nuggalope punched into a hundred little pieces.
"Tama-2, Iron Bull? Really?" Dorian questioned.
"Well...it's got horns like my old Tamassran. And no one's carried me on their shoulders since my old Tamassran. I thought it would be a good way to honor her." Bull shrugged.
Later in the Exalted Plains...
Even with the War of Lions officially at an end, the Exalted Plains was still dangerous to travel alone. With Gaspard's forces surrendering and being disarmed, many of them fled rather then be tried for treason and war crimes, so banditry was a high risk here, even with the Inquisition's forces stationed in the area. The are where Solas' friend was summoned was secluded enough where apostates could easily conduct malevolent rituals.
"Why are we wasting our time trying to assist in aiding one of Solas' demonic consorts?" Vivienne complained.
"Not to agree with Vivvy, but this seems pretty stupid." Sera added grudgingly. "Helping demons is stupid."
"But it's not a demon. Demons want to come into this world, Solas' friend didn't." Cole corrected.
"Same stupid thing, creepy." Sera huffed.
"Then...does that mean you're still an elf even though you don't like elves?" Cole asked innocently.
"Can someone make him go away please?" Sera whined.
"I am curious, Solas. If this spirit is your friend, then how do you identify harmful spirits from beneficial ones?" Cassandra inquired.
"To understand the answer to that question, Seeker, you must let go of the notion that there is such a thing as good and bad spirits." Solas answered. "Spirits embody a purpose, and depending on what you seek, that purpose can be beneficial or harmful. Just as there's no such thing as evil magic, only evil intentions. A spirit is a reflection of a purpose, and a demon is a purpose that has become twisted. Mankind has only itself to blame for the existence of demons." Solas' voice became grim and downcast.
"You speak as though spirits were sentient creatures meant to be pitied." Cassandra carried. "But how can that be if all they do is try to continuously carry out a single purpose? The Chantry says the Maker turned away from the spirits because they lacked a soul, and that they press against the Veil seeking entry to take the souls of mortals. Is that why so many seek entry into this world? To find a new purpose?"
"For someone so devout to an institution that claims to stand for spirituality, ma vhenan, the Chantry isn't very enlightened on matters of spirits, if you think something needs to be a walking bag of flesh, bones and fluids to be considered sentient." Rajmael laughed with smoking leaving his mouth. "Strip away the flesh and what do you have? A persons spirit. And all we mortals ever do is try to fulfill or find that purpose that gives our lives meaning. No different than the residents of the Fade."
"Well, spoken, Inquisitor." Solas complimented.
"I suppose the elves have a different opinion when it comes to the matter of spirits." Cassandra observed. "What do the Dalish teach about spirits?"
"According to the Vir Tanadhal, The Way of Three Trees, we learn that all living things have a spirit, and are deserving of respect." Rajmael explained. "It is from this respect that we learn not to use spirits in our magic, and are able to find kinship with nature, and especially our hallas. Isn't that right, Neirin?" Rajmael patted the white hart's powerful neck and it lowed happily in response.
"I must confess, I never realized how little I actually understand the true nature of spirits." Cassandra admitted. "Being around you, Solas and Cole has made realize just how wrong the Circle is in its teaching of spirits."
"Both the Chantry and the Circle teach that spirits are dangerous and harmful, that they cannot be trusted."
"They teach that based on years of actual experience and encounters." Vivienne adamantly insisted. She refused to accept Solas' apostate knowledge.
"They become threats because you treat them like threats, because you perceive them as threats." Solas lectured. "And just like with people, if you treat them like a threat, that's exactly how they'll behave."
"Your devotion to your misguided misconceptions are adorable, Solas, but anyone who has ever encountered a spirit has only ever met them as a threat, as demonstrated by our encounters with the Rifts." Vivienne chided as though Solas was an ignorant child.
"And your shortsighted logic is as flawed as it is sad, Enchanter. That same concept could be applied to any encounter, considering how eager your race is to use swords and self-appointed righteousness to subjugate anyone deemed lesser than them." Solas rebutted.
"As fun as it is to watch you two bicker back and forth like an old married couple, maybe we should try keeping our minds on the task at hand?" Rajmael suggested. "And Vivienne, stop trying to turn every conversation into an argument. You're acting like a petulant child."
"Very well, Inquisitor." Vivienne conceded less than pleased.
"Indeed. We are not far from where my friend was summoned." Solas informed.
The whole group came upon the scene of what was obviously once a vicious battlefield during the civil war. The whole landscape was like a bad wound torn into the surface. Trenches dug into the ground, trees chopped down and uprooted, whole buildings burned down and the nearby river was a polluted black, foul-smelling ruin with debris, dead fish and dead bodies drifting to the banks. The only thing that could possibly be inhabiting this killing field besides the carrion feasting on the dead was the deserters turned bandits that were roaming the region.
Amongst the nameless dead they walked over as they made their way closer to wear the Spirit of Wisdom was being held, they found the body of a man riddled with arrows and was completely out of place on this battlefield. He wore no armor or even peasant clothing, but worn, tattered, but still visibly colorful robes. Gripped in his cold, lifeless hands was the splintered remains of what could only have been a Circle staff.
"This is a mage, if I am not mistaken." Cassandra observed.
"Shot in the back. Looks like he was trying to get away from the fighting, but his legs couldn't run fast enough. Poor bastard." Iron Bull added.
Blackwall snorted disdainfully. "It's disgusting to see what those who have fled the fighting will stoop to."
"If you think that guy had it bad, check out this poor bastard." Varric pointed to what was left of what was left of a bandit. The only reason why they couldn't identify it was because the face had been shredded off. The ribs were ripped open with all the organs and intestines pulled out by what could have been a bear, except no bear could be this size, and the earth around it had been burned but there were no signs of a fire around them.
"No mage could have done this. These scorches, those claw marks. Oh, no. No, no, non..." Solas eyes were filled with dread, fearing the worst.
"A demon's work, if I am not mistaken." Cassandra observed grimly.
Cole's face became as frantic as Solas'. "What is it doing here? Why was it forced here? It wants to leave and forget, but the rocks are solid. It doesn't want to be here."
"Like we didn't see this coming." Sera groaned.
"We must hurry!" Solas urged. Everyone followed after the distraught elf over a hill, and in the near distance, they found Solas' friend, much to the elven apostate's anguish. The Spirit of Wisdom had been horrifically transformed into a demon of pride. In stead of rampaging around, destroying everything around it, the corrupted spirit just stood there, kneeling. It was held within a binding circle, sealed by magical pillars of ice. Rajmael could sense the wards' power wanning, this demon was too much for such a feeble spell to contain.
"My friend!" Solas gasped in horror. The apostate yelled in an angry cry that none of the others evev knew he was capable of.
"The mages have corrupted your friend, turned it into a demon." Rajmael realized.
"Yes." Solas confirmed despondently, with anger cracking beneath the surface. "A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose."
"So the mages didn't summon your friend because they wanted knowledge, they simply summoned it to use as a weapon, an action that turned away from its true purpose." Rajmael found the whole truth of this despicable.
"So it would seem." Solas seethed.
"A mage! You're not with the bandits?" Cried a well-fed but ragged man in his late twenties who came out from behind one of the rock formations followed by his fellows, all with a look of relief on their face. Judging from their tattered robes, these were the mages who summoned the spirit, and also judging from their weak, they had been fighting something. "Do you have any lyrium? My friends and I are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon..."
"You summoned that demon! Except that it was a spirit of wisdom at the time." Solas accused viciously. "You made it kill. You twisted it against its own purpose!"
"I...I-I understand how i-it might be c-confusing for some wh-whose never studied d-demons," The mage stammered. "but after you help us, I can..."
"We are not here to help you." Solas seethed angrily.
"Word of advice, shem: don't even attempt trying to educate Solas about spirits and demons." Rajmael warned. "All you'll do is piss him off more than he already is."
"Listen to me!" The mage urged. "I was the foremost expert on demonology in the Kirkwall Circle of..."
"Shut. Up!" Solas ordered. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits, didn't you?!"
"I...yes." The mage confessed with guilt.
"You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned into that!" Solas hissed, pointing at the demon. He turned his attention away from the mage and looked to the Inquisitor pleadingly. "The summoning circle. If we break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."
"What?!" The mage asked aghast. "The binding circle is the only thing keeping that demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it's a monster now!"
"I'm afraid I agree." Vivienne interjected. "This thing is a demon. Better to be rid of it now than let it continue to be a threat."
"Demons, not good. Breaking demon cage-thingy, not good. But lots of arrows? That's really good!" Sera insisted.
"She doesn't want to be like this, but can't remember what she was. She doesn't deserve to die." Cole spoke.
"Inquisitor, please." Solas pleaded desperately.
Everything Rajmael knew to be right and just told him exactly what he needed to do. "Keeper Deshana showed me rituals like this and passed them on to other members of my tribe. I think we can disrupt the circle quickly."
"Thank you." Solas sighed relieved. The former spirit of wisdom shattered the magical binds keeping it down and roared with a hateful cry that split the air. It wanted the blood of those mages, and it wanted it now. "We must hurry!"
"Everyone, attack the summoning pillars! Solas, you need to distract the spirit. Keep it off of the rest of us." Rajmael ordered.
The foolish mages scurried, lest they become the demon they created fist target. Solas conjured a barrier around himself and tried to bait his corrupted friend away from the others as they tried to bring down the binding pillars of ice. The elven apostate's barrier held strong against the demon's attacks as he nimbly evaded and avoided its vicious, man-sized claws. It conjured a pair of immense chains of lightning in its claws and began to furiously batter Solas down. Solas refused to attack his friend despite how badly he was being attacked. He focused all his magic into keeping his barrier strong and hoped that Rajmael and the others could stop this quickly. Not to save him, but to save his friend.
These wards the mages erected to summon and hold the spirit were made from ice, and the conjuration was shabby at the very least. Either these mages were merely novices, or they were too desperate or damned stupid to understand what they were doing. The wards couldn't hold back the demon's anger, but they were still preventing it from returning to its true nature. They had to be destroyed if they were to free the spirit, and they needed to do it fast before Solas was killed by the very friend he came to save.
With Solas keeping the demon at bay, Rajmael and the others were able to break down the barriers. The binding circle exploded in a halo of white and the Pride Demon's visage crumbled away, leaving behind the image of a beautiful spirit. This was the Spirit of Wisdom's true form, not the grotesque monstrosity the mages bound and wanted to kill. To Rajmael, the Spirit of Wisdom's true form looked like that of a beautiful elven maiden with eyes glowing like fiery jade. She sat upon the grass where she stood, weak and tired. Rajmael could feel her life force, it was weak, barely holding on and in horrible pain. She had lost too much of herself to that demonic form that she transformed into. The agony she was in must have been unimaginable.
Solas knelt before his dying friend with deep sorrow and regret in his eyes. Rajmael could hear them both speaking in the ancient elvhen tongue so flawlessly, like it was their native language.
"Lethalin, ir abelas." Solas spoke. "My friend, I am sorry."
"Tel-abelas. Enasal. Ir tel-him. I am not sorry. I am happy. I am me again." The spirit said with bitter sweetness, and looked on her friend with pleading eyes. "Ma melava helani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana min din'an. You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death."
Pain swept across Solas' face, but he held it back. He knew what he had to do. "Ma nuvenin. As you wish." Solas lifted his hands to her and freed her from her pain. She left the world like dust in the wind with a radiant smile of pure joy. "Dareth shiral. Farewell."
While the others looked on Solas' sorrow not knowing what he said, Rajmael heard and understood every word he spoke. But more importantly, Rajmael understood what Solas was feeling. That horrible loss that can only be felt when something you love so dearly has been cruelly stolen from you. It was a feeling Rajmael was all too familiar with.
"I heard what your friend said, Solas. And she was right, you did all you could. You helped her as only a true friend could." Rajmael counseled.
"And now I must endure." Solas said sadly.
"I...am more than familiar with loss, Solas. Let me know if I can help." Rajmael offered genuinely.
Solas rose from where he knelt and looked at Rajmael with a sad smile. "You already have." The elven apostate's eyes turned to the mages who committed this crime and became full of rage. "All that remains now is them."
"Thank you for what you did." The well-fed mage who summoned the spirit thanked, his compatriots standing behind him. "We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."
"You! You tortured and killed my friend!" Solas hissed hatefully with murder in his eyes. Rajmael could feel the rage and power building up in the older elf.
"We didn't know. It was just a spirit!" The mage pleaded, cowardly backing away. "Th-the book said it could help us!" But Solas did not care, just as these mages did not care. He was going to kill them in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing they could do about it.
"Solas, wait." Rajmael beckoned sorrowfully. "Ignorance destroys wisdom. But nor does vengeance ever honor wisdom. If you kill them like this, you will only dishonor everything your friend was."
Solas glared down at the groveling mage, cringing in fear like a desperate child. In a single act of ignorant desperation and disregard for something they deemed lesser than themselves, they robbed the world of one of its most precious beings. Everything inside him wanted to kill, destroy, them just like they did to his friend. But Solas stayed his hand, the need to murder quelled within him.
"Never again." Solas seethed angrily.
The mage stood from the puddle he was now standing in, and he and his fellows scurried off.
"I...I need some time alone." Solas said brokenheartedly. "I will meet you back at Skyhold."
Rajmael watched Solas walk off with anguish in every footstep. Rajmael knew that walk all too well. It was the pain and sorrow that held down his own footsteps after his parent were killed, when Eva was made an orphan. It was the agony he has felt in every step he has made ever since he killed Nethras with his own hands. Solas just needed to some time to get used to walking that way, but he would walk well. Rajmael knew he would.
Later At Skyhold...
Solas finally walked back through Skyhold's gates. His anguish was still there, but he walked without it hindering his step. The two elves met as Solas made his way into the lower courtyard.
"Inquisitor." Solas addressed respectfully.
"How...how are you feeling now?" Rajmael asked carefully.
"It hurts. It always will, but I will survive." Solas assured.
"You were gone for a while. Where did you go?"
"I went to quite place and slept, and traveled to the place where my friend once dwelled." Solas answered sadly. "It is empty now, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there."
"You're saying your friend may return someday?"
Solas shook his head, wishing it could be true. "No. Death is different for spirits than it is for mortals, but no less final to them. Their energy returns to the Fade, and if the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may return again. But it would have a new personality, new memories. It would not be the friend I knew."
"I know what it's like to lose people that were close to me. If you need to talk, I can listen." Rajmael consoled. "And thank you for returning."
"You were a true friend when I needed one, and you did more than most would have in such circumstances. I could hardly abandon you now." Solas said thankfully.
Present time...
It had been a while since Rajmael and Solas last spoke. Rajmael felt it was necessary to give their residential Fade expert some time to himself. Rajmael made his way through the rotunda to check in on any reports Leliana might have when he was approached by Solas. The elder elf had a conflicted look on his face.
"Is something wrong, Solas?" Rajmael inquired.
"No...nothing is wrong. It's just that...might we speak privately?" Solas asked with mixed discomfort and anxiety.
The two elves made their way to the balcony in Rajmael's quarters. And still, Solas didn't seem very comfortable.
"Inquisitor, what were you like? Before the Anchor?" Solas finally asked. "Has it affected you? Changed you in anyway? Your mind, your morals, your...your spirit?"
Rajmael wasn't sure if he understood the question. "Aside from the fact that it catapulted me into leading an army of people against every manner of weirdness and horror in the name of survival, no. Not really, no. I've pretty much always been a mild-mannered smart-ass, or so my Keeper always yelled at me. Why do you ask?"
A wave of nostalgia came over Solas, as though he were recalling some distant memory he had forgotten. "You show a wisdom I have not seen since...since my deepest journeys into the most ancient memories of the Fade. You...are not what I expected."
That actually surprised Rajmael more than anything Solas had ever said to him. "You were expecting someone a bit more ruthless? Maybe Aedan Cousland?"
"That...wouldn't be too far from the truth." Solas chuckled. "Most people are predictable. Most people would use this Inquisition as a blunt instrument in their rise to power. But not you. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I could have expected." Solas paused thoughtfully for a moment. "If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours...have...have I misjudged them?"
Rajmael smiled proudly. "I am only what my people have taught me to be, and I would not be the man I am today without them. The Dalish are far from perfect, and we are nothing compared to what our ancestors were, but we do are best to honor to the ancient ways and what they represent."
"I suppose that is it. It must be." Solas acknowledged respectfully. "Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you."
"So what does this all mean, harhen?"
Solas paused again, as though he wanted to give the right answer. "It...it means that I respect you greatly, and all the you've done. And I have taken enough of your time for one day." Solas nodded his head to the younger elf respectfully, and walked out of the room.
Rajmael stood there in his room, confused by what Solas had said. Was his very nature truly so surprising to the elven apostate? And even if it was, why did Solas seem so conflicted about it? But what Rajmael said about his people having such a profound influence on him was true. Were it not for the Dalish rescuing him, Rajmael would have been killed by the Chantry's bigotry. And even if he hadn't been condemned to such a fate, Rajmael didn't want to think what his life would have been without the Dalish. Would he be proud to be an elf, or even be the same man he is, or would he have been just another nameless, faceless mage living under the Chantry's scrutiny with his life held in the hands of the Templars? No. The Dalish, his clan and adopted parents taught him how to become the man he is. And it was all he would ever be.
~XoXoXoXo~
Rajmael wanted to talk to Varric so they could discuss the criminal reports stating that the Red Templars were using criminal world connections to smuggle red lyrium. When he reached Varric's usual spot near the fireplace in the Main Hall, he was surprised to see the talkative dwarf was already deeply engaged in a conversation with a dwarven woman. But judging from how quietly they spoke, how that woman looked like she was trying to hide her face, and that bewildered look on Varric's face, it didn't appear to be a fun conversation.
Now at this point in time, after everything they'd been through as comrades, Rajmael knew by heart that trouble and shady dealings clung to Varric like his shadow. It was part of his personality. That, and being able to utterly piss off certain women in positions of authority that are able to kill anything with a sword and shield, like Cassandra or Knight-Captain Aveline back in Kirkwall. Most of the time, Varric was very good keeping the incriminating part of his lifestyle hidden and away from everyone else, especially Cassandra.
But when Rajmael saw Varric was talking to a hooded dwarven woman that he had never seen before, and was miserably trying to cover up the fact that he was acting suspicious and trying to hide something, the Inquisitor knew there was something wrong. And if Varric had a problem, that meant everyone else was going to have a problem. Better find out what Varric's problem is before it bit them all in the ass.
"Look, I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn't have come here yourself." Varric said with an almost foreign sound of worry in his voice. "What if the guild found out? Or Whatshisface?
"Aw, you're worried. That's cute." The hooded dwarven woman laughed quietly. "For me, or for yourself?"
"A touch of one and a splash of the other." Varric evaded. "After all, I am the expendable one, and I haven't exactly endeared myself to the rest of the Merchant's Guild."
"Oh, don't you worry, Varric. I'll protect you. We'll just have to...Well, who is this?" Both dwarves' attention to the elf that happened upon their not so private conversation. "You must be the Inquisitor. Bianca Davri, at your service."
Rajmael knew that whatever they were talking about was probably really important with lives at stake, but that wasn't his main concern this second. "Wait a minute. Did you say your name is 'Bianca'? As is in, the same as the crossbow that Varric likes to fondle intimately, whisper sweet nothings, and talk dirty to? That Bianca?"
Varric face palmed himself in embarrassment trying to hide his face while the dwarven Bianca eyed him curiously with a bemused smile on her face. That probably wasn't the most tact thing Rajmael could have said in front of Varric's friend.
"Yeah, sure, let's go with that." Bianca laughed under her breath. "It's a more huggable name than 'Helga'. I lucked out."
"Then I take it you're a friends of Varric's?"
"But of course. Who isn't a friend of Varric's? I mean, you've met him, right?" Bianca smiled evasively.
"Then why do you two look like that guilty look like you're a couple of teenagers seeing each other behind your parents' back?" Rajmael observed keenly.
"She's taken a huge risk coming here herself. Maybe for both of us." Varric answered seriously. "Well, maybe more for me."
"You're such a worrier! There's a giant hole in the sky. I think the Merchant's Guild's got bigger things to worry about right now." Bianca insisted.
"Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus is getting his Red Lyrium." Varric said grimly.
"It's coming from the site of Bartrand's folly. That ancient, long lost thaig they found in the Deep Roads? Its location has been leaked." Bianca informed. "There's a Deep Roads entrance in Ferelden crawling with strange humans carting out strange Red Lyrium by the handful."
Rajmael shook his head incredulously. "Wait a minute. You're saying that these guys are carrying Red Lyrium from the deepest place in the Deep Roads, way out in the Free Marches, and they are somehow carrying it into Ferelden?"
"But of course. The at the height of the Dwarven Empire Deep Roads once encompassed the entire world, making it easy to travel from one end of Thedas to the other. Most of them fell when the darkspawn came. And the roads have fallen into ruin since then." Bianca answered. "So if you've got an entrance going in and out somewhere, you don't deviate. Otherwise you could fall into a cavern, a lava pit, or a darkspawn nest. One problem after the other."
"But that doesn't explain how Corypheus of all people could have found the thaig. Who leaked it to him?"
Varric sighed wearily. "There were a few other people who knew. Hirelings from the expedition, a few close friends, and according to Warden Commander Howe, Bartrand sold the location to the Wardens. So I wouldn't be surprised if they're the ones who told him."
"How they found out isn't important. What matters is that we know where they are now." Bianca interjected.
"Then how do you tie into all of this, Bianca?" Rajmael inquired curiously. "How do you know about the thaig's location and who's carting the lyrium?"
"Because I told her." Varric answered flatly. "After the expedition, I wrote to Bianca and told her what we found down there. I had artifacts that needed buyers, and she had contacts that could pay for them. Plus, I owed her."
Rajmael paused for a moment. If Varric, who barely took his own duties seriously, believed that this was important, then it must be. "Alright. As long as Corypheus and his Red Templars have even a single source of red lyrium, they are that much more of a threat. We cannot let it spread any further than it already has."
"I couldn't agree more, Inquisitor." Varric concurred.
"I'll go keep an eye on the operation. If you're interested in shutting the operation down, you've got my help." Bianca looked over to Varric invitingly. "Don't keep waiting to long, Varric. You're not the only one with things to do, you know."
The Dalish elf and surface dwarf watched Bianca make her way out of the keep. Despite the key value of this information and the immense danger this operation posed, Rajmael couldn't help but pass a mischievous grin to his dwarven companion.
"Well, Varric, I have to admit, I didn't think even you were that slick, but shooting bolts with two Bianca's at the same time? You must feel like the luckiest dwarf on the surface." Rajmael complimented.
"Not as lucky as you might think, Inquisitor. I just know this is going to be trouble." Varric said uncharacteristically worried.
Rajmael had never known Varric to be so worried about anything so seriously. Even after they first met in Haven after the Conclave was destroyed. This was something deeply personal to Varric. "Does something to do with that one story you said you'll never tell?"
"It has to do with a lot of things, but yeah, that's definitely a major factor here." Varric answered somberly.
"Do you trust Bianca? The information that she gave you?"
"Eh, she's far too much of a researcher to not have gotten false information. But if you're asking me whether she's using us or trying to set us up? Yeah, maybe. I wouldn't put it past her." Varric's tone was remarkably honest. "But she risked the wrath of the Merchant's Guild to deliver this information in person. If she thinks it's that important, then it has to be the real thing."
"I'll get the others ready then. We can't let Corypheus have any access to red lyrium. Even the smallest amount can cause untold damage."
Later back at the Gates of Valammar in Ferelden...
Rajmael couldn't help but want to kick his own ass returning here. Back when he was first starting out with the Inquisition and they were moving to hold the Hinterlands, they discovered a carta smuggling ring that was hiring mercenaries to act as bandits to distract the Inquisition's forces from finding this ancient thaig they were using to smuggle lyrium to both the rebel mages and renegade Templars. And then it turned out to be filled with darkspawn, which they ended up having to exterminate. If Rajmael had known that this place would end up being used by Corypheus' minions to supply him with the heinous red lyrium, Rajmael would have posted soldiers here to make sure no one else used this place for smuggling.
Everyone quietly made their way through the cave entrance. The last thing they needed was to alert an unknown number of hostiles in a crumbling dwarven outpost.
"There you are! I've been waiting here for so long I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Bianca called, emerging from the shadows and scaring Varric nearly to death.
"Nobody said you had to wait in the creepy cave while you were waiting for us." Varric chided.
"Well, I did wait, and it's a good thing I did. These idiots are carrying this red lyrium out in unprotected containers. We need to shut these guys down now." Bianc informed.
"Strange." Rajmael observed. "You knew how to scout this place? How did you know about the location of this thaig, this whole operation? You said there are hundreds of Deep Roads."
"I've used this entrance before. Varric's not the only surface dwarf to explore the Deep Roads you know?" Bianca inisited. "Imagine my surprise to come back here only to find it filled with strange humans carting off that strange red lyrium. Now come on, let's get going. We don't want to be here long enough for it start 'singing' to us."
Rajmael quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Singing? That isn't common knowledge to anyone outside the Inquisition or Corypheus' followers. How is it you know so much about red lyrium?"
"I told her about it." Varric answered honestly. "She's one of the people I contacted in the Merchant's and Smith's guilds to watch out for anyone using the stuff."
"Varric told m everything that idol made of red lyrium did to him...and to Bartrand." Bianca added. "Varric and I didn't want that happening to anyone else."
Bianca was a complete stranger to him, and he had no idea of whatever she knew, or what Varric had told her. After all the information that Varric fed Hawke, Rajmael wouldn't be surprised about the things she might be aware of. But now his curiosity was satisfied, for now. "Alright, let's get going. I hope you know how to handle yourself in a fight."
"No. I just thought I'd hang in the back cowering while you guys did all the hard work." Bianca said sarcastically, drawing a bow from a quiver on her back.
"She's a...decent shot." Varric admitted hesitantly.
"Decent?" Bianca repeated almost offended.
"You want me to admit that you're better than me? In front of the Inquisitor?" Varric complained.
"Let's just get going."
Everyone followed Bianca's lead into the cave, and it became painfully obvious that she was, in fact, a better shot than Varric, and she was just using a bow. Bianca, Varric and Sera silently shot down the sentries before they were spotted, while Cole stealthily moved ahead and assassinated what few guards there were by sinking his daggers into the jugular veins, hearts and brainstems. Vivienne and Solas used their magic to catch the dead guards were they fell so they wouldn't attract attention.
From what Rajmael could see, the hirelings here were not Venatori, and they didn't appear to be Red Templars. If they were Red Templars, then they must be the ones with the least amount of skill or use. There were too few guards posted, and the rest of them seemed to be here solely to cart the Red Lyrium. More than likely, Corypheus must have sent these paltry, weak few to harvest the ore he so desperately depended on. At this point, with the Inquisition shutting down all his other operations, Corypheus could not afford to waste anymore of his forces.
"So this is what you do these days?" Bianca asked, shooting the last sentry down like a quail.
"Pardon me?" Varric asked launching a bolt into an unknowing guard's ear.
"Skulking caves, shooting guys, fighting monsters. I this your day-to-day."
"For the most part. I usually try to avoid the caves." Varric shrugged. "You should here about the time I ended up falling through a rift and wound up physically in the Fade in the middle of demon invasion in a Grey Warden fortress."
A shocked disbelievingly look came over Bianca. "Are you serious, or just telling another tale?"
"I'm about as serious as a Blight, Bianca." Varric swore.
"Are you trying to give me a stroke, Varric?" Bianca chided. "That letter you sent me about the red lyrium was the first I heard about you since the Kirkwall Chantry exploded."
"Oh, had it been that long?"
"Seriously, if you'd have died in that mess, I would've gone back to Kirkwall just to dig you up and kick your ass." Bianca's chastisement was half serious, half playful.
"Yeah? What if I had been cremated? What would you do then?"
"Kick your ashes, of course."
Everyone couldn't help but be amused by the two dwarves' banter and attempts to mock one another like that was all they were trying to do. Bianca and Varric were trying so hard to act like they were just friends that it became painfully obvious that they were trying to ignore how crazy they were for each other. It was actually kind of sad how hard they were trying. Rajmael knew that kind of vain attempt to mask one's true feelings. He used to do it himself, a lot. Back when he was young after he had confessed his feelings to Evanura. He would often try to mask his feelings under a friendly, smart-mouthed façade.
Bianca led them to a wall right on the edge of one of the thaig's lower floors. Why had they stopped here?
"Ah, here we go." Bianca remarked looking at the door.
"What? This is just a dead end." Rajmael pointed out.
"That's exactly what I wanted people to think, and what these guys are probably counting on." Bianca enlightened as she felt around the stone door looking for something. "I built these doors to keep pesky intruders out, and I'll bet the rest of these idiots on the other side here are hoping for the same thing. It's impossible to open without the key, which I have." Bianca inserted a large, key-shaped rod into a crevice in the wall and turned it. The wall immediately fell and revealed the entrance on the other side.
"You've been to this thaig enough that you've been able to renovate it?" Rajmael questioned both curious and impressed.
"Well, yeah. I'm not sure how much Varric's told you, but the Merchant's Guild is pretty cutthroat, literally. If you want to make sure you get far in this guild, you make sure you cover your tracks so no unintended 'accidents' occurred. Plus, I didn't fancy having the local darkspawn just drop in to say hi."
"Well, don't just stand there, Inquisitor." Dorian urged clapping his hands lightly. "Give the lady an applause, that's what's she waiting for. I know I would be."
"Ah, yes. That was exactly what I was waiting for." Bianca said triumphantly.
"How do you propose we clear them out of there?" Cassandra inquired. "I assume you must have built defenses inside."
"I've already got that covered." Bianca grinned eagerly and produced an ordinary looking clay grenade smaller than a fist. But it had a strange bluish aura to it. What was she planning to do with that?
A look of shocked dread veiled over Varric's face. "Bianca? Is that what I think it is?"
"Oh, you know what you think it is, Varric." Bianca answered with her smile getting bigger.
"Aw, shit."
"Uh, do what, exactly?" Rajmael asked skeptically. "What's that little thing going to do, make fireworks?"
"You'll see, Inquisitor." Bianca answered, her smile at it's peak.
"You guys might all want to stand back and cover your ears." Varric insisted.
"Fire in the hole!" Bianca lit the tiny grenade's short fuse and chucked it into the occupied chamber through the revealed doorway. The entire inside of the chamber blew up in a powerful explosion of blue that sent a shockwave that knocked them off their feet and shook the whole thaig. Any and every smuggler and soldier that worked for Corypheus inside was now reduced to a thin red paste with meaty chunks all over the floor and walls, with the stray finger, tooth and eyeball laying around.
"What in Andraste's name was that?!" Cassandra asked in shock, trying to recover from the ringing in her head from the explosion.
"That was a lyrium bomb." Varric answered hesitantly.
"A lyrium bomb!?" Rajmael was hoping he heard wrong thanks to the grenade's explosion. "As in the kind of lyrium explosives that the Hero of Ferelden had commissioned in Amaranthine?! Tell me that's not what I heard."
"No, Inquisitor. You heard right." Varric groaned worriedly.
"What, why the long faces? It worked didn't it?" Bianca asked blithely.
"Yeah, they worked great, which is why I'm so worried, Bianca." Varric stated. "Do you have any idea what Aedan Cousland would do to you if he found out anyone but him or the Glavonaks were using that stuff?"
"I know I do." Iron Bull said with a sour look on his face. "Trust me, what he did to the Ben-Hessrath who tried to kill the dwarf who made those explosives and steal the formula has given a lot of agents nightmares."
"Oh, all this worry for little ol' me? I'm flattered fellas." Bianca giggled. "But you don't need to. I got these explosive from one of Dworkin Glavonak's cousins for a fair price. Told him I could make them more effective with a little tinkering, and I was right. And besides, I've been wanting to use those ever since I got a hold of 'em. You should come by my new workshop sometime soon and see the other things I've got."
"I'll try, but no promises. I just know your parents will kill me if go anywhere near you."
"They won't try to kill you, Varric." Bianca assured.
"You always say that, and they always send those assassins. Besides, I don't want to run into Whatshisname." Varric said almost grudgingly.
"Bogdan? I wouldn't worry about him. He's in Nevarra right now trying to sell it to wealthy landowners. That's how I was able to get the time to tinker with those bombs."
"Wait a minute." Iron Bull interrupted. "Varric. Your girlfriend makes weapons?"
"She's not my girlfriend, Tiny. But yeah, she does. And lots of other things. Really good ones, too." Varric answered.
"Oh, that is hot." Iron Bull grunted.
"Glad to see there are so many people outside the guild who appreciate my skills." Bianca laughed.
"I heard some people in the guild wanted to get you named a Paragon for that contraption." Varric remembered.
"Yeah, it was a pretty big deal. But it's never going to happen." Bianca said uninterested. "Even if I am ten times the smith Branka could ever wish to be, without the unhealthy obsession with a magic anvil. A surfacer Paragon? Never."
"You never know. It could happen." Varric believed. "Last I heard, Houses Dace, Bemot, and Meino were for the idea. Only Houses Aeducan, Vollney and Hirol remain undecided."
"I wouldn't hold my breath for it." Bianca waved off. "There's no way the Deep Lords in the Assembly would ever accept such a thing. May as well crown the Casteless as far as they're concerned."
"Perhaps we could continue these various and engaging conversations later, after we've completed the reason for being here in the first place?" Solas insisted.
"He's right. Let's get going." Rajmael agreed.
Biance led the way forward with an eager spring in her step, while some of them did their best not to step into the gory mess of blood and splintered bones that had been splattered all over the place thanks to the lyrium grenades. Hopefully, Aedan Couslands would never find out about it.
Bianca scoured through the wrecked room and even checked some of the bodies. What was she looking for?
"There you are!" Bianca exclaimed relieved. She pulled a key off one of the bodies. A key that looked exactly like the one she had, and used it to seal the smuggling entrance. "There! They won't be using this entrance anymore."
Suddenly, all the pieces were falling together. Rajmael and Varric exchanged a look of knowing, and in seconds realized what was going on. How Bianca knew about these men were smuggling red lyrium. How she knew about this operation, even when the Inquisition didn't. How these servants of the Elder One had a key just like hers.
"Bianca..." Varric said accusingly.
"You're the leak." Rajmael denounced seriously. "They had one of your keys. That was how they got in and out of here. And you're one of the only people in all of Thedas who knows where that ancient thaig beneath Kirkwall is."
"Look, it's not what you think." Bianca defended, realizing how busted she was. "When I got the location of that primeval thaig, I went there to see it for myself. I found the red lyrium and...studied it."
"You know what is does to people, Bianca. Maker's breath, I told you what it did to Bartrand!" Varric reminded bitterly.
"I was doing you a favor, Varric!" Bianca balked back. "You want to know about this stuff as much as I do. You need to know more than I do. I just...wanted to figure it out."
"There's a is an astronomical gap between studying red lyrium and giving its location to Corypheus. How did you make that leap, Bianca?" Rajmael inquired.
Bianca shifted where she stood. "I found out that lyrium it...it has the Blight, Varric! Do you understand what that means?"
"That two of the most dangerous things I can think of combine form something super awful? And you allowed the worst thing to ever happen to this world have easy access to it?" Varric criticized.
"Lyrium is alive!" Bianca announced with the awe of discovery, but was quickly replaced with desperate explanation. "Or...something like it. The Blight only corrupts living things. Animals, plants, even water, but never minerals. I couldn't discover any more on my own, so I looked for a Grew Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise rolled into one, right?"
"And?" Varric and Rajmael asked in unison, both losing their patience.
"I found this Warden mage named Larius. He seemed really interested in my research and gave me all the insight he had, so I gave him my key."
"Larius? He was the Grew Warden Hawke and I met in Corypheus'...oh, shit." A shadow of dreaded realization came over the dwarf. "I knew, just knew something seemed off with that guy when he left. He was talking funny..."
"I didn't realize what exactly was going on until you said you found red lyrium in have." Bianca continued. "So I came here and...well...Then I went to you."
"I don't like being in the dark, Varric. Do you know who this Larius is? How does he fit into this mess?" Rajmael asked quizzically.
"Larius, former Warden-Commander of the Order in the Free Marches turned blight corrupted madman lost in an underground prison housing unimaginable evil." Varric answered sympathetically. "He was the Grey Warden who led us to Corypheus prison, and was the last Warden to strengthen the ancient wards using blood magic, thanks to Hawke's father, Malcolm. And he sure as shit wasn't a mage last time we saw him, but after what I saw Corypheus do to the Wardens at Adamant, nothing surprises me anymore."
Rajmael turned his attention to Bianca with anger in his eyes. "This whole time, this 'lead' you came all this way, risking the Merchant Guild's anger, was just a ruse. A ploy to clean up the mess you made."
"I know I screwed up, and that's why I came here!" Bianca defended. "And we fixed it didn't we? It's as right as I can make it."
"This isn't one of your damned machines, Bianca!" Varric hollered. "You can't just replace a part and expect everything to be fixed!"
"No, but I can try." Bianca defended sourly. "Or am I supposed to just wallow in my own mistakes, pretend I don't care about anything while kicking myself, and tell stories about what I should have done."
"Mythal enaste! Why don't you to just go get a room and work this out? You two argue like an old sexually frustrated married couple. Or my step-parents when they wanted to relieve their frustration." Rajmael cringed and shuttered at that disturbing memory, and then turned his attention back to the bickering dwarves. "Varric warned you how incredibly dangerous this red lyrium is, and because you weren't wise enough to listen and leave well enough alone, you gave Corypheus the resources he needed to do untold damage, not to mention all the people who've been killed just by being too close to his stuff. And Varric, Bianca did what she did because she wanted to help you, maybe whatever she discovered can teach us how to undo the red lyrium. And she came all the way out here to fix here mistake, and make sure you didn't get hurt. And without her help, we might never have learned where Corypheus was getting his lyrium."
The two surface dwarves broke off their argument, but the damage was done.
"We've done all we can here, Bianca. You'd better get home before someone misses you." Varric said sadly.
"Look, Varric..." Bianca beseeched.
"Just forget about it." Varric turned away and trudged out of the room.
Bianca looked as Varric walked away with depression in her eyes before turning to the Inquisitor with a deathly serious glare. "Get him killed, Inquisitor, and I'll feed you your own eyeballs with a melon scoop."
Rajmael couldn't help but laugh. Such a threat coming from her was almost cute. "Lady, I sleep with Cassandra Pentaghast. You're gonna have to step it up a notch if you want to intimidate me."
Later back at Skyhold...
It was late in the day now, and Bianca had made her leave. For obvious reasons, she probably didn't want to overstay her welcome. But what concerned Rajmael was why Varric chose not to see her off, or even say goodbye. Varric was burned pretty badly and was probably nursing his emotional wounds. And when Rajmael found him at his usual spot by the fireplace, that was exactly what the dwarf was doing. And he was doing it pretty hard.
"I'm glad to have answers, but...shit. I knew her coming here was trouble." Varric sulked. "I let this happen. I gave her the thaig. And I am no good with dealing with shit like this. Andraste's ass, it seems like any time I involve anyone with anything I put them in danger or bring ruin to someone else."
"I doubt there's anyone out there in the whole damned world who knows how to put up with situations like this, Varric." Rajmael counseled. "My life has been one big shit-storm even before I went to the Conclave."
"No, it's not just that..." Varric shook miserably. "If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here I'd be in Kirkwall drowning myself at the Hanged Man pretending none of this was happening!"
"You and I both know that's not true, Varric." Rajmael insisted. "You've done more than anyone else here to try and stop Corypheus. You even risked life and limb to protect Hawke, even with Cassandra breathing down your neck. You're not someone who hides when things get ugly."
"Is that true? I don't even know any more." Varric sighed. The dwarf shook the self pity off his face and looked at his leader with gratitude. "Thanks for what you did back there, Inquisitor."
"Even after all this, do you still think you'll meet Bianca again?" Rajmael asked curiously.
Varric smiled that confident grin of his. "I always do."
"I saw the way you two looked at each other, how hard you were trying to act like 'just friends'. Why aren't the two of you together?"
"It's really complicated." Varric shifted uncomfortably. After what just happened with Bianca, Rajmael earned some answers. "We literally can't be together. Usually because there's a continent always separating us, but mostly because of the fact that there's not too many people in the Merchant's Guild who want us to be together. Like Bianca's parents, for example. So we write letters, and now and again manage to meet up when no one's looking."
This was confusing. "But you two are so perfect for each other! Why would anyone want to interfere with two surface dwarves with predilection for dishonesty from being together?"
"Bianca's parents are kalnas, surface dwarves so conservative and traditional, they don't stop to take a piss without asking the Ancestors if they should wash their hands or not." Varric explained.
"As a Dalish elf, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that some surface dwarves aspire to be what their forefathers were." Rajmael understood better than most why some would forsake everything for even the memory and aspiration to be as great as the ancestors. "House Tethras is an influential member of the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. Why would they disapprove of you?"
"House Tethras' position in the Guild was all thanks to Bartrand. And that wasn't enough." Varric clarified dismally. "Bianca is beyond a doubt the most brilliant smith that you'll ever meet. "They didn't think the younger son of a disgraced, exiled Noble House was good enough for her. Plus, they didn't like my lack of appreciation for the Ancestors. So instead, the picked a nice little Smith Caste boy who was wealthy, respected, has a fancy anvil collection, and barely notices when Bianca is even in the house. The perfect husband."
Now that came as shock to the Inquisitor. "Wait, a minute. She's married?!"
"Oh, yeah. I heard the wedding was lovely. The one Bianca actually showed up for, anyway." Varric said blithely. "So, as you can tell, Bianca and I can't be together."
Rajmael keenly watched as Varric's hand caressed his most prized possession. "Does any of this have to do your crossbow? Bianca made it didn't she?"
Varric sighed deeply with sadness and regret. "It's not as simple as that. The Carta thinks Bianca was a freak success created by a Carta dwarf who couldn't duplicate it. And if they found out someone else was involved...well, things would get really bad. And we almost caused a clan war while we were at it. It's the one story I can never tell, for good reason. If the Guild found out that I was even within a hundred leagues of her, they'd freeze my assets and send assassins after me, not exactly in that order. So, as you can see, Bianca and I can't be together."
"I know what that's like, Varric." Rajmael tried to say comfortingly. "To love a woman you can't have. No matter the circumstance, that always stings."
"Yeah, except you were able to find someone else. It may be someone as scary as Cassandra, but still. For me, there is no one else."
"Well, then maybe you and I should go get some drinks sometime. We can drown our regrets in ale until the alcohol in our systems poisons our livers and kills us." Rajmael laughed.
"You know, I think I'll take you up on that offer, Inquisitor." Varric said gregariously. "What do you say you give me a little bit and I'll convince the others to get together for a night of drinks and wicked grace? Maker knows we deserve one."
Rajmael couldn't help but grin with anticipation. Everyone, himself especially, had been on edge for too long without a moment to stop and take a breath. Maybe not worry about the dire state of the world they're trying to save. Plus, it would pretty fun to have everyone let their guards down and watch their coin get swiped in a game of cards. That would be funny.
That Night, Much Later...
This was a sight worthy of an epic song all on its own. Not a battle scene, not a sight of victory, or a heartfelt tragedy. It was a night of drinks and gambling with the most prominent members of the Inquisition. Just as Varric said he would, he got everyone he could to attend this worthy cause of foolish choices. All except Solas, Leliana and Vivienne, it was hard to convince those two to let their guard down, make fools of themselves or even have fun.
At this point in the game, almost everyone was deep in their cups, even Cullen was starting to forget about breaches of decorum. What came as a huge surprise was the fact that Josephine of all people was winning. Iron Bull was drinking everyone under the table while Dorian and Blackwall did their best to keep up. And Sera drank so much that she passed out under the table. Even Cole was having fun. Rajmael was pleased to see Cassandra lose that tough exterior of hers and just relax for one night. Even amongst all the tragedy and terror they faced, they deserved to have one night of drinks and laughs.
"And then Hawke walks away from the cliff, never looking back in the true badass fashion, and says 'It looks like the Duke...has fallen from grace.'" Everyone laughed as Varric recited the caper of when he and Hawke broke into Chateau Haine.
"That is how Duke Prosper died?" Josephine smiled almost disbelievingly. "You know, that sounds just perfect for him."
"Ha! Red-headed elves are always sexy and full of trouble." Iron Bull laughed.
Rajmael quaffed down another glass of Coastland whiskey and slammed it to the table. "Tell you what, everybody, lesh raish the shtakes here now." The Inquisitor slurred. "I'm drunk enough to think itsh'a good idea to shtop betting boring coinsh, and bet shomething we really don't wanna looshe."
"Why, Inquisitor, you expect us to take advantage of our own comrades when they are drunk and liable to make foolish decisions in the midst of gambling? Great idea!" Dorian laughed.
"I have to admit, that sounds like fun. Deal me in." Blackwall agreed.
"This is so scandalous, Inquisitor. But let's do it anyway. It's been so long since I had so much fun." Josephine giggled.
"Ha. Now it's a party! Varric chuckled. "All we're missing is a certain Rivaini pirate who would bet what little clothing she had, then fleece you all in a heartbeat."
"I'm in. At this point, I know everyone's tells, especially yours, Ambassador." Cullen warned.
The Ambassador had a grin on her face that could shame a fox. "Now, Commander. A lady has now tells."
"Some people bet more than what they can afford to lose, but still do it anyway. Why?" Cole asked.
"Gambling addictions is one of the most popular human pastimes, Kid." Varric answered.
"Gold-spriggers in the trees!" Sera shouted nonsensically before going back into an alcohol induced coma.
"Ssho, come on! What are betting?" Rajmael asked drunkenly.
"I am not sure this is such a good idea. Perhaps we shouldn't." Cassandra said unusually tentatively. Her apprehensiveness was half because she wasn't one to let her guard down so easy, the other half was because she was still not very good at this game and was afraid to lose.
"Come one, Cassandra. Live a little!" Rajmael insisted. "Going out onto the battlefield shouldn't be the only risk you're not afraid to take."
"At least on a battlefield I know how likely I am to win or lose." Cassandra argued.
"You might want to change your mind, Seeker." Varric taunted. "Because what I'm betting right here, is the first twenty pages of my next volume of 'Sword & Shields'. But if you don't want in on the actions 'cause you're afraid, well then, I guess I don't blame you."
Cassandra's eyes lit with fire and knew what she needed to do. "Alright, I'm in. But what should I bet?"
"Something you're not too keen to lose, but can afford to." Cullen suggested grinningly. "We wouldn't want to strip you of all your dignity and pride."
"From personal experience, I know the perfect thing you could bet, Lady Cassandra." Josephine leaned over and whispered something into Cassandra's ear that made her face turn red.
"Really, Josephine? That's what you'd recommend." Cassandra blushed, Josephine nodded her head and giggled.
"You just have to ask yourself one thing, Seeker: how badly do you want it?" Varric goaded.
The Seeker finally gave into her temptations, slammed her hand to the table and made her bet. "Let's do this, before my better judgment gets the better of me."
An Hour Later...
Everyone made their bets and played their hands one last time. And to everyone's shock, surprise, and horror, Josephine won the whole pot. It turned out Rajmael wasn't half as drunk as he made himself out to be, and lasted the longest, before losing his pants. Because Josephine won, no one would get what she gambled, much to some of their dismay: a passionate and coveted Antivan kiss. Cullen foolishly bet every strip of clothing he had and was forced to run back to the barracks without even a rag to cover his bits. Cole apprehensively bet his beloved hat, but he knew Josephine would return it to him. Blackwall wagered a fifteen year old bottle of Starkhaven port that he wasn't too happy to see go. Dorian bet a rare, priceless Tevinter ring he brought with him from his homeland, but was going to hock it anyway. Iron Bull tossed his eye patch into the pot and showed off the scarred, hollowed hole under where his eye used to be, much to everyone's discomfort. But what was most shocking of all was when Cassandra stepped outside the room, came back and moment later and, for the sake of getting a twenty page sneak peek of her favorite book series, threw a pair of very lacy, and very, very risqué, pair of panties into the pot. Rajmael was impressed with the courage it took Cassandra to do that, and was now deeply interested in what else she was wearing under her armor. Just the thought of it gave him almost gave him a nosebleed.
"Don't you say a word, dwarf." Cullen warned naked in his chair.
"I tried to warn you, Curly." Varric chuckled. It was so hard to take Cullen seriously when he was wearing nothing but his birthday suit.
"It comes off! I didn't know it could come off." Cole gasped in surprise, his messy hair almost obscuring his eyes.
"And I thought the same thing about your hat, Cole. We all learn something new everyday." Dorian joked.
"Does that Blackwall's can take his beard off?" Cole asked innocently.
"Not today, Cole. I like it right where it is." Blackwall informed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let this serve to remind you never to be against an Antivan." Josephine bragged in an unusually haughty tone. And in a very dignified, ladylike, yet also very Antivan manner collected her winnings, but before she returned Cole's hat and half of everyone at the table witnessed poor Commander Cullen's hurried walk of shame back to the barracks, his bare ass shining in the moonlight.
With everyone else leaving to lick their gambling wounds and sleep off the booze for the night, Rajmael looked at Cassandra with a seductive smile on her face, one she welcomed with a sultry smile. Both of them, especially Cassandra, thanks to the drinks and cards, had let go of their inhibitions for this night of fun. Now they wanted to go somewhere more private for some fun just for them, and take off the rest of the clothes they didn't bet. Cassandra was almost grateful to Varric for convincing her to enjoy herself at least for one night with her comrades as friends. Now she would enjoy the rest of the night with Rajmael as lovers. This night of fun was far from over for her.
Author's Note:
Okay! First, let me apologize to anyone who was in the middle of reading my last post. Please let me explain.
Someone I know, who shall remain nameless, thought he was helping me by posting the last chapter for me.
But that was an incomplete document that I meant to turn into two chapters because of how ling it was.
I have gotten a LOT of angry PMs since then.
It was not my intention to troll, t-bag, or in any other way tick anyone off or confuse them.
Please, leave me a review and tell me what you think of this chapter, and not bust my chops over this mistake.
I will be posting my next chapter later this week.