Chapter 2 – Business as Usual

The Inquisition really couldn't take a 'day off'. The following morning the birds were much too loud, the light much too bright, and everything seemed to make one's head hurt. Lavellen sat up in bed, still dressed in her clothes from the night before. Most of the residents of Skyhold were grumbling and keeping their heads down, desperate for tea or coffee to dull the throbbing in their heads. Lavellan stared at the floor, at the wood grain and stones, trying to forget the sensations from the previous night. "I can't believe… - No, it was just too much to drink… too much everything…" Lavellan said quietly to the silence of her bedroom. She wanted to believe her reaction the night before was just natural because human drinks and some foods just didn't agree with her, or it was a moment of weakness, nerves leftover from the battle with Corypheus. She tried, but her voice didn't sound convincing and so, she wasn't convinced. She refused to admit that Solas leaving so suddenly had literally knocked her off her feet, the air from her lungs, and rattled her to her core. A few minutes passed and the day was already scheduled. She let her bare feet scuff the floor and wiggled her toes to feel a little bit more Dalish in a place surely no Dalish had ever called home.

Lavellan stood up and stretched, grimacing at a stiffness in her lower back. She had to keep her mind on her schedule: Breakfast, updates from Josephine and Leliana, training with Cassandra, and find out the status of troops with Cullen. Then gossip with Dorian during lunch, check on the Chargers and Iron Bull, visit her mount and give it a good thorough brushing, look in on Blackwall, keep Sera out of trouble or join her in troublemaking, and avoid Vivienne. Usually, she'd follow up with a visit to the rotunda and 'borrow' Solas for some private time, but obviously she'd have to cancel today. Afterwards she'd go to the library and talk with the scholars before she wrote letters to gain further influence. After nightfall she'd take a bath. Lavellan savored sinking into the hot water, submerging herself to her chin. It was a human luxury, but she would miss it when she returned to her Dalish life – if she ever did. Dinner was almost always with Varric in the tavern. She would ply him for juicy details on his new novels to tease Cassandra with, though Lavellan was becoming a fan herself.

The day progressed normally until lunch with Dorian. He was insightful, thoughtful, and sometimes brutally honest without 'kid gloves', as he called it. Lavellan picked at her mutton stew without much appetite. "So, no sign of the heartbreaker yet?", Dorian said as he took his friend's hands in his. Lavellan flinched. Rumor had it, for months now, that the Inquisitor and her Tevinter blood mage were an item. Dorian flirted with her openly since the day they'd met, and Lavellan had thought he was so amusing, though devilishly handsome, that she flirted back to be playful. Dorian had spotted the look that the bald elf had shot him the first time he kissed Lavellan's cheeks, and he made sure to be extra – well, Dorian – around the man.

"No, but maybe he just needs a few days to cool off." Dorian smiled suavely and leaned across the table, his frilly shirt nearly dipping into her bowl. "Well, then that leaves more time for the two of us! No more denying how you feel about me, my dear" He nearly purred it with sexual innuendo dripping from his voice. Lavellan, despite her mood, laughed. Dorian wrinkled his nose at her reaction, feigning insult. "Oh you tease! I thought we had something here…" He said dramatically sweeping his hand to his forehead and throwing himself back with further drama. Lavellan snorted loudly and covered her face as her cheeks burned a bright red. Dorian grinned like a scoundrel at her reaction – snorts were rare and he cherished every one he earned from his beloved Inquisitor.

"You're just toying with me, aren't you?" Dorian asked. He stared at her with a puppy-dog eyes and overly expressive pout. It was ridiculous and so was he, and she adored him.

"Always.", Lavellan smiled at him and made an attempt to eat. He smiled and leaned back in his chair, satisfied that she would feel a bit better for the day at the very least.

Later that day she stood in the main hall with her hand on the door to the rotunda, frozen in place. She had to confront the reality that going in there was incredibly painful. It hurt more than the fact that her bare face would make her unwelcome among the Dalish elves, Inquisitor or not. She felt bile bubble up and grimaced, shaking her head and pushing through the doorway. "I will not let this control me."

The rotunda was relatively quiet, the upper levels echoed with faint footsteps and conversations. Lavellan stood there and looked up at the high ceiling. She took a few deep breaths. She slowly turned to look at the space around her, taking in the beautiful frescoes on the walls. She saw colors, but really her mind just replayed memories "of us…".

They were in love, she had her vhenan and nothing could stop her from saving the world… and then what? Solas smiled and took her hand.

"Come with me, vhenan." He brought her to an ancient elven ruin to tell her…something. "I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me." He said with a smile that reached his blue-grey eyes. She stared at him lovingly, letting him go at his own pace. She had learned in the past year that he could not be rushed. For him, Lavellan was patient.

"You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined."

Her heart soared to new heights. She wanted to cry, but she was strong and tough and didn't want the moment ruined with tears. There would be time for tears later, so much time. "Then what I must tell you... the truth..."

The vallaslin - she wore slave markings. Her momentary joy was replaced with a shock of revelations that she was branded. The Dalish got it wrong, scrabbling to grasp onto a history and culture that they misunderstood and was nearly lost. She felt lost. He let her make a choice, and she made it thinking at least she would have him by her side. How could she live with a bare face? Her clan would think she'd been bewitched, and other clans would reject her outright. She would be an outcast. Humans would think she was a city elf, and that wasn't much better. Lavellan still asked him to remove the tattoos, her eyes tearful as she tried to make peace with her decision and who she would be afterwards. She would be no one, with no people. Did he understand how much she loved him, to accept his words as truth and commit to being alone? This stripped her of her family, past, present, and future – her people, her clan, everyone of the Dalish. She felt his fingers brush against her skin as he cast his spell. It was both warm and cold, making her skin flush but her hairs stand on end.

Then the vallaslin were wiped from her, her identity stripped – but she had him, she had her vhenan. Everything was okay – she knew who she was, who he was. He could be her future, her only future. She was no longer Dalish. She was not a city elf. She was no Tevinter slave. She was only his vhenan.

Moments later he drew away. "I distracted you from your duty. It was a mistake. It won't happen again." She was stunned and stared at him in disbelief as her dreams crumbled into ash.

"You bring me here, take the vallaslin from my face, and now you just end it?"

Fenedhis!

Lavellan spun and threw a dagger with a fury and speed that was unmatched. It pierced the wooden table with a nearly silent thump. "It was sheer luck we won against Corypheus...", her head hadn't been in the game. Neither had been her heart, which Solas had stomped on and crushed so easily only a few weeks before. She and Solas had a rhythm in battle. They moved like dancers, partners in an agile weaving of spells and daggers. He struck from afar and kept her shielded with magic, kept her energy high so she had the stamina to stay on her feet in the thick of battle. Lavellan leapt and threw herself into the fray before disappearing and backstabbing opponents, flanking them, or rushing through the lot of them. The rest of the team makeup was a rotating crew, but he was always her first choice until – well, until he'd thrown her away like trash.

She was loving, good, and kind. She had done all she could to support him, to save his friend, to preserve their culture, to share in his interests, to encourage him. She had told him how she'd use her power after defeating Corypheus, how she'd make things better. She hadn't done anything wrong. He was selfish. He was wrong. He needed to come back and apologize to her. Maybe she'd just tell him off and wash her hands of him. Maybe she'd… she'd do something.

It was easier for her to let anger swell than the heartache that threatened to have her crying on the floors.

She stood there, nearly shaking before she stomped over to the table and tore the blade free.

"May the Dread Wolf take you!"