Chapter Eight
"Uh, I don't want to be that guy, but…I think we're lost."
The Iron Bull's dry comment only aided in making Cullen's tense shoulders tighten even further. "I am not lost."
"I'm positive we were supposed to make a right turn at the fork back there," the Qunari insisted. He shook himself much like a wet animal would, sending even more droplets of rain on his companions.
Evelyn shot him an annoyed look, but he shrugged in response. "Sorry, boss."
"I know where we are going," Cullen replied through clenched teeth.
Despite the confidence in his angry voice, Evelyn, three of her companions, and all twenty-something soldiers accompanying them through Crestwood's soggy landscape knew otherwise. They were lost. After meeting with Hawke and Alistair and learning more about the Grey Wardens' involvement with Corypheus, the two had set off to venture to the Western Approach while Evelyn had lingered to aid Crestwood with sealing the rift in the lake.
Though she had suggested for Cullen and the bulk of their soldiers to remain in the village and protect the citizens while she and her companions closed the rift, he'd been against it, stating that it was too risky for just the four of them with the number of highway bandits, Venatori agents, darkspawn, undead, and demons in the area. Through her notes, she'd argued that she'd fought through more danger with less help, but he was far too stubborn.
While she knew he didn't doubt her capabilities, she wondered if a part of him was still suspicious that she was trying to get herself killed. It was a painful reminder that even after all these weeks, he still didn't fully trust her, but she couldn't very well blame him. That didn't mean it hurt any less.
After more arguing, they'd come to a compromise. It was too risky to send so many people into the caves under the lake if they managed to drain the dam, but if they took over Caer Bronach, that would not only solve the bandit/Venatori problem, it would also give the Inquisition another source of influence outside of Skyhold.
At present, however, the biggest issue laid in whether or not they would actually make it to the fort. Cullen had led the charge, though nearly four hours into the journey on foot across the stormy landscape, it was becoming increasingly clear that he had no idea where he was taking them.
"This would be so much simpler if we had a map," Dorian groused under his breath.
Despite the endless pour of rain and occasional rumble of thunder, Cullen heard him. Evelyn saw the agitated twitch of his hand as though he wanted to strangle someone, but thankfully, he chose to grip his pommel instead. He turned his head to glare over his shoulder. "We would have had a map if someone hadn't dropped it in a bloody puddle of water."
At that, Sera took a sudden interest in the sky as she continued walking. "Ghastly weather, innit?"
"I mean honestly, was that frog really bothering anyone? You had to launch our only source of direction at it?"
She began to whistle an innocent tune. Loudly.
"So, you admit we're lost," Dorian asked, sounding just as annoyed as the rest of them felt.
"We are not—" Cullen broke off his denial with a gruff sound of impatience. He stomped a bit faster, using his forearm to wipe rain from his eyes.
Evelyn couldn't even relay her suggestion to return to camp, since the rain had thoroughly soaked her notepad. The only person in Crestwood who might have been able to translate was Solas, but he'd gone with a few of her other companions to locate the Venatori hideout and dispose of them.
With a resigned sigh, she continued listening to the bickering and quiet complaints of the soldiers behind her. Though she took careful steps, some of the puddles along the old road were so deep that water came up to her calves, seeping through her armor and adding weight to her already soaked clothes.
Mounting the horses would have made the trip much faster, but there had been warnings of a high dragon and a nest of wyverns in the area, so she'd decided against bringing them. With all the dangers lurking around, the last thing she wanted was to draw the attention of a dragon. She'd fought one before, back in the Hinterlands and had been rewarded with a number of priceless crafting materials, but Maker be damned if that hadn't been a tough fight.
A flash of lightning lit the dark sky, followed swiftly by booming thunder. Cullen stopped and threw up a signal for everyone to follow suit. Hope had her perking up as she looked around, mistakenly believing they'd finally reached their destination. However, when another flash appeared, she frowned in dismay when all she could see were ruins near a cliff.
"Dammit," Bull said on a sigh. "I told you we should have—"
"Will you shut up?" Cullen growled, reaching his breaking point. He turned to the soldiers. "You all stay put, but stay vigilant."
When he continued toward the ruins, Evelyn, Sera, Dorian, and Bull followed. The sounds of thunder changed, becoming more of a rising and falling rumble. Odd…
Dorian voiced her thoughts when he asked, "Is it just me, or is the storm…snoring?"
The five of them shared looks of confusion as they listened. The closer they got to the edge of the cliff, the louder the strange noise grew. Evelyn was the first to peer over the edge. Cullen drew in a sharp breath, and Dorian had to slap a hand over Sera's mouth when she nearly screeched out a curse.
"Maker's breath," Cullen breathed, backing away.
Curled into itself was a massive striped dragon, sleeping soundly. Someone in the village had warned about the beast, though they'd stated it only seemed to hunt in the brief times the rain wasn't falling.
"Please, please, please let me wake it up," Bull pleaded on a loud whisper.
"Are you mad?" Cullen demanded in the same quiet tone. "We are low on supplies and we haven't even made it to the keep yet."
Bull's shoulders dropped in disappointment. "But…"
"Absolutely not. It's too dangerous. Let's go before it wakes up and kills us all." With that, he turned on his heel and returned to the soldiers with Sera and Dorian following behind.
Bull turned a wounded puppy look toward her. "Boss… It's a dragon. You left me out of the last fight."
Evelyn didn't share Cullen's concern. Well, she worried for their troops, for some of them hadn't even crossed paths with a demon yet, let alone a dragon. In truth, she longed for a new set of armor made from dragon hide. With the Hinterlands dragon, she and her companions at the time had split their goods, though she'd given her portion to the soldiers to strengthen their own armor and weapons.
With one final glance over the edge, she made up her mind. "Later," she mouthed to him, a quiet promise that no matter how hard Cullen tried to prevent her from doing so, she would fight the beast. After all, it wasn't like she was being completely careless. The dragon had been terrorizing Crestwood, picking off on the farm animals. How long would it be before it decided it had a taste for something more? The way she saw it, she was protecting the village.
Right, because the terribly strict, no-nonsense commander of the Inquisition troops was going to fall for that at all.
The grin of approval splitting Bull's lips made her snort with humor as they both turned to join the others.
…
…
Immediately after sealing the rift, the rain had finally stopped. In the four days following, Evelyn and her company had remained in Crestwood not only to search for the runaway mayor, but to do away with the high dragon, ensure no Venatori were lingering, and to make sure the surrounding regions were once again safe for travelers.
With the sun shining brightly, Crestwood turned out to be not such a gloomy place after all. In fact, it had a lot to offer despite having been suffering all sorts of damages since the blight ten years ago. No longer a vicious playground for demons and the undead and everything in between, it was surprisingly a quite beautiful region. That is, when the sun actually had a mind to shed its light rather than hide behind nasty storm clouds.
Rolling hills, quiet lakes, lush greenery. Even the caves were lovely in a way, with their intricate natural carvings and glowing deep mushrooms providing a soft blue light.
Evelyn was enjoying the scenery—so much so that as she ambled down the slope of yet another steep hill, her distracted gaze caused her to misjudge her next step. A squeak of surprise, a loud pop, and a cringe-inducing crunch was all she heard as her foot twisted, sending her tumbling forward. Rolling, she reached out blindly for something, anything to stop her descent, but to no avail.
"Inquisitor!" Blackwall shouted as he and her other two companions came running after her.
Moments later, she hit the level ground with enough force to draw an 'Oomph!' from her lips. Dazed and confused over what the in Fade just happened, she simply laid there. A pile of loose limbs crumpled on the ground.
Solas' face was the first to come into view, his sharp features highlighted by the setting sun in a way that made him look rather celestial. "Inquisitor," he murmured, lips twisted into a frown and blue eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright?"
It took a great deal of effort to remember to use her hands when no words came out of her mouth. "I…believe so." When she tried to push herself into a sitting position, Solas placed a hand on her shoulder.
"No, don't move just yet. You may have a concussion." With his free hand, he reached inside the satchel hanging at his waist.
"I only slipped," she signed with a pout. She did her best to swat his hand away, but he was firm in making her remain still. He was far stronger than he looked. Granted she'd very much noticed that he was fit and well-toned, but the traveling attire he always wore hid his muscles, making it so easy to forget what lay beneath. "I'm fine."
He pulled out a roll of cloth, still refusing to budge. "You are bleeding."
At his pointed gaze to her forehead, she paused and touched the spot that had a strange tingling sensation. Her fingers were stained with blood when she pulled them away. Not enough to cause panic, but it was more than a mere scratch. It didn't hurt, though she was sure that had more to do with some lingering shock over her humiliating tumble.
When she went to touch the wound again, Solas made a sound of annoyance and captured her wrist in a gentle, yet stern grip. "Inquisitor, I must insist that you remain still lest you risk making your injuries worse."
Varric laughed, shaking his head. "You'd better listen to Chuckles. I have a feeling he wouldn't mind casting one of his ice spells to freeze you in place."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes on Solas, seeing that while his expression hadn't changed, one corner of his full lips twitched oh-so-slightly in amusement. "You wouldn't dare."
His blue gaze shifted to hers, one brown eyebrow shooting up in challenge.
Grunting in defeat, she dropped her hand and remained flat on her back. Solas voiced her words to the other two while he worked on patching her up. "Remind me to make my next mission an all-female expedition. Cassandra would help me stand, and Vivienne would encourage me to walk it off."
Blackwall snorted. "And Sera would probably push you down another hill."
"My point exactly. They wouldn't coddle me."
"It is not coddling," Solas defended casually, still fishing around the satchel. "It's ensuring you won't later fall unconscious due to underlying head trauma."
She signed a rather unladylike curse to all of them that he didn't translate, though it made him give a half-smile of humor.
The sun had already dipped over the horizon, casting the final remnants of its light in a dazzling spectacle of varying pinks, oranges, and purples. Solas' face once again blocked her view of the sky as he leaned over her to inspect her head. His brows were drawn together in concentration.
The first touch of his fingers on her forehead made her pause. As she studied those pale, nimble digits, she realized that they were longer than she remembered. Slender and smooth, yet there was the occasional feel of an old callous from years of wielding wooden staffs. Those fingers were tender as they stroked her skin, measuring the size of her wound and seeing just how serious an injury it was.
He pulled his hand away, but seconds later it returned with a cool wet cloth. The first dab made her flinch, which in turn had him going still. "Did that hurt?"
She shook her head in denial, but it was a lie. As her shock and adrenaline began to fade, the pain caused by her own clumsiness was beginning to make its presence known. However, there was a part of her that was reluctant to have him stop his administrations.
Perhaps she'd hit her head harder than she realized. She was reminded of their Fade-kiss nights ago. She'd made good on her silent promise to herself to not bring it up, and he'd seemed just as determined to pretend it hadn't happened. Not once in the travel to Crestwood nor in the times they'd settled in for the night had he even hinted at it being on his mind, and she supposed she should have been thankful. Still, she couldn't help the flush crawling along her skin as she cast a brief glance to his lips.
Solas continued to clean her wound, albeit even gentler this time around. She watched him the whole time. With him being so close and her unable to look anywhere else, it once again dawned on her how strange it was that she hadn't realized just how attractive he was prior to Haven's destruction.
He had a dimpled chin and the sharpest jawline she'd ever seen. It was also smooth as a newborn's bottom. Not even the faintest hint of stubble could be spotted. Pale freckles dotted his cheeks, nose, and parts of his forehead, and his lips were full and colored a shade of pink that most women would kill to have. There was a small, indented scar just above the middle of his brows, one that made her wonder if there had been any long-lasting damage after it was inflicted. Even with it, there was no denying how painstakingly beautiful he was. Her fingers twitched. She caught herself just in time to keep from reaching up to touch him.
Talk about embarrassing. No doubt he'd recoil at her touch. Despite how amicable they'd become over the months, she had no desire to embarrass either of them by doing something so…intimate.
He used his teeth to rip a good size of the cloth off, giving her a brief flash of perfect white teeth. Then, he smoothed some kind of sticky substance on her head before laying the wrap over her wound. Once he finished, he stood and held a helping hand to her.
"That should hold until we get to Caer Bronach," he said. When he pulled her upright, a sharp pain blasted through her ankle, making her whimper and fall back to the ground. "What is it?"
Drawing in short breaths between gritted teeth, she pointed at her foot. Slowly, she tried to move her leg to get to her boot, but the pain became too much. Just a simple twitch had an array of colorful curses flitting through her mind.
"Allow me." He kneeled onto the grass. She tensed before he even touched her. He was once again gentle as he went to work removing her boot, but it still hurt like a bitch. Not the worst pain she'd had to endure, but the throbbing of it was no joy ride.
When he managed to free her foot from boot and sock, he frowned so deeply that his eyebrows nearly touched.
"Bloody hell," Blackwall murmured in disgust.
Varric grunted in discomfort, averting his gaze but unable to look away for long. "That's…not pretty."
A giant knot had already formed where her ankle was supposed to be, almost taking up the entire length of her foot. The normally tanned skin around it was filled with a deep reddish-purple bruise. She tilted her foot first one way, then the other. It wasn't broken, thank goodness, but her inability to move it more than a centimeter to the left told her it was still a pretty serious injury.
Solas sighed and tilted his head back to glare at the sky. "I only had enough cloth for your head. You are going to have to stay off your foot until the swelling goes down, which will take quite a few days. That unfortunately means we will not reach Caer Bronach tonight."
At that, Varric and Blackwall immediately voiced their annoyance. "Just give her a regeneration potion and call it a night. The keep is just an hour away."
The mage turned a slightly annoyed scowl on them. "A potion will not work for this kind of injury, and even if it did, we've exhausted all our supplies after dealing with those cave wyverns."
They groaned. Varric crossed his arms and frowned at her. "You couldn't go just one more hour without hurting yourself, could you?"
She snorted in derision. "Right, because I woefully twisted my ankle simply to prevent us from sleeping under a roof with fortified walls. If it's such a problem, I don't suppose either of you are willing to carry me the rest of the way then?"
After listening to Solas' translation, they both glanced away, pretending to take interest in some distant object. Blackwall shook his head, still grumbling. "We didn't bring any camping supplies. The last time I had to sleep on the ground, I awoke to find a colony of ants had taken up residence in my beard."
She rolled her eyes, though she didn't respond right away. She'd learned from Josephine that as a leader, her words and actions would reflect on those who followed her. If she showed her annoyance with the entire situation, it will only further agitate them. And so, she smoothed her face over to the calmest expression she could muster as she signed, "You're right. We're just an hour away from the hold. You three should continue onward before the others grow worried. Mark my location and send someone back with my mount. That way none of us will have to camp out in the open."
Her pacifism worked, to her surprise. Solas shot her a look of amusement as though he'd known the reason behind her change.
Varric shoved his hands into his coat pockets and kicked at a clump of dirt. "And have Curly berate us for abandoning you here?" He scoffed, though it sounded more like a laugh. "I'd rather take my chances with the wyverns."
Blackwall shook his head, also appearing more relaxed. "I'm more afraid of what Sister Nightingale would do to us if she found out."
"When," the dwarf corrected. "You can't sneeze without her knowing about it."
Solas pulled his satchel off his shoulder. "I will stay with her," he announced. He then shifted to sit on the ground near her foot, careful not to hit it accidentally. "It'll only take a few hours."
Varric and Blackwall looked at him with surprise and a bit of reluctance, but there was no denying that fighting the wyverns had taken a toll on all of them. They were all eager to call it a night. They looked to her for approval.
She nodded and scrawled a quick note. "Go on. Inquisitor's orders and whatnot."
With a snort and only another moment of hesitation, the two of them set off, leaving her and Solas alone.
While Solas went to work setting up a fire for both warmth and a signal for them to be found later, she leaned back on her elbows and threw her head back, closing her eyes to focus on something other than the dull throb in her foot. It was quiet, the only sounds to be heard were from her companion's shuffling around and the eventual crackle of a fire. There were no calls from the wild, no insect chirps or animal chatter.
The weather was also nice. The retiring sun brought forth the night's chill, but it was nowhere near close to how cold it had been in both Haven and Skyhold. Fortunately, she'd grown used to the frozen air, so Crestwood was nothing she couldn't handle comfortably.
"How are you feeling?"
Solas' voice startled her from her peaceful thoughts. The pain in her foot was all but forgotten, yet she still made sure to not move it in any way. She sat up to peer at him with a dry look. "So far I've faced demons, rogue mages, red templars, the undead, power-hungry nobles, and a dragon or two, yet it seems my one downfall would be my own inability to properly walk a straight line."
He made a quiet sound of humor and took a seat near her feet, facing her. "Even the mighty have weaknesses, Inquisitor."
"Evelyn," she corrected since they were alone.
When he didn't acknowledge her revision, an awkward silence fell between them. For the second time since meeting him, he looked uncomfortable. He gave a soft sigh and turned his gaze to the side. "Inquisitor, I must apologize about the dream. The…kiss was impulsive and ill-considered."
She couldn't help the dry smile curling one corner of her mouth. When he looked at her again, she signed, "You say that, but you're the one who started with tongue."
His lips parted, but no words came out. However, his cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink, hinting that he wasn't as calm about it as he pretended to be. "I did no such thing!" When she quirked a dubious brow, that color darkened. "It…has been a long time. At any rate, I am not sure it would be wise to allow such…indulgences to continue. It could lead to trouble."
Shaking her head, she absently toyed with a button on her gloves. It had been almost two weeks since the dream, but not once in that time had she figured out what to say when this very conversation would arise. Solas hadn't been her first kiss, but her experience with this sort of thing was lacking. Back in Kinloch before the Circle had fallen, she'd been a bored teen apprentice who'd snuck a bottle of wine into her room. She'd been slightly drunk and heading to the washroom when she'd made a pass at another mage who happened to be going in the opposite direction, though it had never gone further than a stolen kiss in a dark alcove. She didn't even remember the boy's name, and they'd never seen each other afterwards, let alone talked about it.
Then, of course, the Circle had fallen shortly after and she'd turned into a mute recluse with only her own consciousness as a friend. She hadn't allowed herself to get close to anyone afterward, instead choosing to keep everyone at arm's length. She'd grown a bit, though. She'd learned to use humor and casual indifference as a defense mechanism, so much so that to this day whenever she was uncomfortable with a situation, if she pretended that she wasn't bothered by it, she could get by with ease until she moved on.
Besides, it was just one kiss. One kiss in a dream, at that. A sudden, unplanned action in the heat of the moment. It didn't have to mean anything, certainly not when it was clear Solas regretted it.
To save them both from further awkwardness and humiliation—and to lessen the sting of his rejection she refused to acknowledge—she turned a small smile up at him. "Have you had a chance to visit the old ruins in the southwest?"
A relieved expression crossed his features briefly before he smoothed it over, grateful for the change in subject. "Unfortunately, I have not, but I was hoping to make a trip there before we return to Skyhold." As he went on to tell her story about another ancient ruin he'd visited before in the past, Evelyn once again relaxed on her elbows, asking questions often to show she was listening intently.
The tense air between them dissolved and the pain in her foot was again forgotten as the hours passed. She became so engrossed in his story that when he mentioned a particularly exciting encounter with a spirit, she shifted to a more comfortable position, only to hiss in pain when her swollen foot tapped a rock.
"Here, let me," he murmured, reaching for her ankle.
She gave a frantic shake of her head, fearing even a light touch would send another jarring ache through her.
"I will be careful," he assured her, waiting for her approval before continuing.
Gnawing her lower lip in hesitation, she squeezed her eyes shut and gave a slight nod.
She braced herself for the sharp twinge of pain, but it never came. Instead, Solas' cool fingers were slow and gentle as he lifted her foot and placed it in his lap. With both hands steady, he was tender as he stroked her ankle and foot in the softest of massages.
She watched his administrations with wide eyes. A part of her reasoned that he was only trying to relieve her discomfort. He was a healer, after all. However, she couldn't help the small sigh falling from her lips at his delicate touch.
Solas' eyes met hers, and she found it impossible to look away. Despite his previous words suggesting the kiss had been a mistake, he had that very same look in his eyes as he'd had in the dream, right before he'd pressed his lips to hers.
Evelyn swallowed hard. The longer they stared at each other, the more his massage felt like a lover's caress. His strokes grew slower and longer, smoothing over her foot and ascending past her ankle to fondle the bottom of her leg before sliding back downward. Over and over again he creeped farther up, then back down, then up.
"Evelyn," he murmured, saying her name slowly. His gaze dropped to her lips, and when he didn't look away, she licked them. Heat smoldered in those grey-blue depths.
Before either of them did something foolish and bring back that air of confusion between them, the sounds of footsteps rushing toward them had her snapping her attention away from him.
She saw Cullen before she spotted a dozen other soldiers, along with Varric and Blackwall. "Inquisitor, thank the Maker you are…"
He trailed off, his eyes narrowing on her and Solas. Specifically, where the elf still had his hands on her bruised foot. "Commander," he acknowledged calmly, giving nothing away. As usual. Evelyn signed something to him, to which he relayed to Cullen. "She says she didn't expect you to bring the whole army when she only needed a mount."
The commander's jaw ticked, his tone sounding a touch harsher than the relief he'd exhibited just moments ago. "Yes, well when only two members of your company returned with news that you'd been injured, I didn't want to take any chances." He continued to glance between the two of them, not quite a glare, yet not far from it.
Evelyn couldn't gauge what was going through his mind, but when she followed his stare to Solas' hands still on her, she suddenly realized with a touch of awkwardness what it must look like.
"I trust that you have brought supplies to wrap her ankle?" Solas asked, still sounding unconcerned and unabashed.
Cullen signaled for one of the soldiers, and the man brought over a bag full of potions and wraps. Solas murmured a thanks and went to work wrapping her ankle. While he worked, she resisted the urge to shrink when Cullen's hard stare landed on her again. She wasn't at all fooled into believing that was a look of jealousy, but he certainly didn't look pleased.
When Solas was finished, he made to help her stand, but Cullen beat him to it as he slipped an arm around Evelyn's waist. "Allow me," he all but grouched to Solas. "Wouldn't want you falling off the mount should you exhaust yourself even further, now would we."
The dry tone he used suggested he could care less either way. Solas' eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, the only visible sign of his annoyance with Cullen. However, he merely gave a mockingly grateful dip of his head. "A considerate notion." He met her gaze. "I will meet you back at the fort, Evelyn."
The fact that he hadn't used her title in the presence of so many eyes and ears was intentional. It was to irritate Cullen, and judging by the pop that sounded as he clenched his jaw, it worked.