I haven't written anything in nearly eight years (besides massive amount of DM notes). Then, the other day, I played Inquistion again, for the first time in several years, and got swept away with the characters and story again, especially Solas' multi-layered character. I wanted to write down some dialog and feelings from my Inquisitor as a writing exercise, which is chapter 3 in this story, and before I knew it, I had written several chapters already.
Renamed from "Faded Purple" to "Out of Tune" to better represent the common themes.
Warning: story mentions abuse, and more mature themes in later chapters (not graphic).
I am not an English native, so please forgive the occasional language mishap!
Herald
Ennaly fell butt-first to the rocky ground. A shot of pain erupted from her leg.
Damned terror demons.
The large monstrosity hovered above her, having just knocked her down with its long gangly limb. It raised a claw to strike at her once more, but –
From her position on the ground, Ennaly aimed her staff and send a well-aimed bolt of white-crackling lightning to its abdomen. From outside her vision, she saw a crossbow bolt speeding its way towards the demon's. With a high-pitched screech, it disintegrated.
That was her chance. She stretched out her left hand towards the green shimmering tears in the sky and with all her might, focussed all her will through the mark on her palm. A beam of green energy, raw and volatile, erupted from the mark and jerked at the tears of the rift. With a loud boom it imploded the tears, and soon only the regular early night sky was visible above the Elven mage.
The silence that followed was as welcome as the cool breeze on her sweaty forehead.
"I hate demons," said a voice to her right, the deep rumble of Iron Bull. Ennaly shared the sentiment.
"This was a particularly nasty one, yes," the voice of Varric replied from somewhere behind. She heard the sound of the crossbow collapsing and being attached to its holder on the Dwarf's back. A second later, the flushed face of Cassandra appeared above her.
"Everything alright?" the warrior asked her, holding out her hand for help.
Ennaly took it, but the moment she tried to rest her weight on her leg, she cried out. Both women looked down. Ennaly's foot had a slight wrong angle about it. It didn't look good. The terror demon had latched its limb around her ankle and yanked her to the ground, and clearly the tug had been enough to break the bone.
With shaking hands, she started to untie her footwraps. Cassandra assisted her, and sucked in her breath when her feet came free. It was not a pretty sight.
"That is going to hurt," Varric said concerned as he walked nearer.
"Just… Put it back in the correct position," Ennaly gritted through her teeth. "A potion will sort out the rest."
Cassandra tended to her. "Ready?" the woman asked, looking at the Elf for a signal. She nodded and with a sharp tug, Cassandra straightened the bone. Ennaly couldn't help but cry out in pain.
Varric already had a potion ready and handed it to her. Her hand still slightly shaking, she gulped down the contents of the flask.
A sigh of relief. She could feel the warmth spreading from her stomach, gliding down to her leg where it was needed the most, knitting muscle and bone back together. It didn't do the full trick though.
"A little help, Chuckles?" Varric called to the other Elven mage, standing some distance away.
Solas appeared, unscathed from the battle, and kneeled down near Ennaly. He placed a warm hand on her ankle and channelled some magic through it. The sensation was warm and comforting, like entering a hot spring after a long day's walk.
When Solas was done, she moved her foot around. It no longer hurt.
"That is so much better, thanks" she exhaled gratefully.
Solas looked up to her. "I would be careful for the next few days. Try and not put any weight on it. A broken bone is not an easy injury to heal from."
His eyes drifted down over her face to her cheekbones, and she saw him follow the lines of her Vallaslin there. A frown appeared on his face.
She pulled her foot back and started wrapping it again, feeling annoyed by his frown. She had never done anything to warrant it.
"You mages are too squishy," Bull said, but with a soft touch to his tone.
Ennaly looked around. Bull was tending to Dorian, who was bleeding from a large cut on his arm.
"You are not looking too good yourself, Bull," Dorian said sharply. "And our other mage seems to be perfectly fine."
Solas was casually leaning on his staff now, observing their surroundings.
"Well, he was all the way over there, that's cheating" Bull replied. "And this is nothing."
That might be his words, but out of all of them, he seemed to have the most blood loss. It was nothing a potion and some rest couldn't solve, however.
Ennaly was glad that they had horses. It would have been a terror – the joke wasn't lost on her – to have to travel all the way back on foot. When they had seen the rift in the sky from ahead, they bound their horses to nearby trees and approached on foot to deal with the danger.
"Camp here?" Dorian asked the group.
"I'd rather not. This place gives me the creeps now," Ennaly responded. "I eh… Might need some help, though, getting on a horse."
She and Varric waited while the others went to grab the horses so Ennaly wouldn't have to hobble over. A few minutes later, during which Varric succeeded in trying to get her to laugh, the others returned. Before she could so much as protest or agree, Bull had picked her up as if she weighed less than his battleaxe – which was actually a real possibility – and sat her down on her horse.
"Thanks Bull," she said. "Just a little further, then?"
Half an hour later, they found a nice spot near a stream of water where they could wash up the sweat and grime of the fight.
"I will be glad to be back in Haven tomorrow," Dorian noted, before the men went their way to wash up and the women another. "Never thought to be happy to go back to that hovel, but beggars can't be choosers. It's preferable to the roads anyway."
Ennaly had to disagree. If it was up to her, she wouldn't sleep in a hut at all, even in Haven. She always preferred to sleep in the outdoor air when there was no downpour, used to that arrangement since her childhood among the Dalish. When there was rain or snow, families would huddle together in their aravels, but otherwise, most would prefer sleeping under the stars.
Humans were weird for needing all that empty space for just a few people. Ennaly could never understand the concept of Human castles and mansions. How lonely it must be to dwell in empty rooms. Here, with the Inquisition, she was happiest when they were out camping. In Haven, she accepted her hut, thinking it would be best to try and blend in with Human culture, against her own preferences.
And nothing beat cool, running water to wash away a battle's grime. They had found a lovely spot for camping on a small clearing in a pine forest on the hills, with a stream of cold running water nearby.
Among the Dalish they weren't shy with their bodies. They would wash together, men and women, children and elders, they all had skin and nothing to be ashamed about. For Dalish, only the act of lovemaking was a private affair. But here, in Human society, she joined their ways, and that meant that men and women bathed separately. And that is how she found herself with Cassandra at one side of a large cluster of bushes, while the four men were on the other side. The water reached her waist, which was the perfect dept for a good wash. Naturally resistant to the cold water, she had no trouble fully emerging herself, while Cassandra, shivering, just sat at the water's edge and bathed each body part separately, wrapped in a blanket against the cold.
From there, in the cold water, she heard Varric mention her with the title Herald.
Such a simple word, really. It conjured images in your mind, of someone grandstanding and important. She, a Dalish mage, the Herald of Andraste? She felt more like an imposter.
But she wasn't, was she? The glowing mark on her hand indicated that she was least something, even if she didn't think she was sent by anything divine. She believed that Cassandra believed, and if was true or not, she was willing to help out, so did it really matter in the end?
Not to her.
And whatever had happened, no matter how Cassandra had treated her in the beginning, she was very sure that the Seeker would stay around until the end, and would not give any less than her very best. She herself could hardly give less than her own very best, partly to spite all those who opposed her, and partly to give worth to the trust that those put upon her that believed she was indeed chosen.
She heard the men laugh. She was glad to hear the laugh from the Tevinter mage. Who'd ever thought she, a Dalish Elf, could feel such connection to a Tevinter mage – "not Magister", she heard Dorian in her mind. The history of their respective people aside, what they had experienced together, not even a week ago, could grow a connection between any two unlikely people, she thought. It was enough to take the laughter away from anyone's face for a good long while. It affected him still, she could see it in his eyes sometimes, when he didn't think anyone was looking.
She felt the same.
Bull's let out a laugh that almost sounded like a bark. Out of all the oddballs around, she'd least expect to be traveling with a Qunari. She had never seen one before him. Living sheltered in the forest and the plains, she'd only had some interactions with Humans from small villages. There were times they met with other Dalish clans, and she'd seen a Dwarf around, but a Qunari? She'd imagined living her entire life without ever meeting one. Big and broad as he was, it was surprising that Bull didn't intimidate her (well, perhaps a little bit at first) but now it made her feel save to have someone around strong enough to uproot a small tree by hand.
She had seen him give his life for her and Dorian, in the twisted future she and the Tevinter had to witness. Even though Bull was a spy, and she had all the reason to mistrust him, how can you not trust someone whom you've seen sacrificing their life, so you have a chance to revert back time? She's seen the demons throw his mangled body to the floor. She'd do everything not to have to witness that again.
Perhaps, in a twisted sense, it was simply guilt. This man did not even know of that future, this man had not sacrificed himself really. But still, she would do whatever she could to repay the price he had to pay.
And it was the same for Varric. He too, had sacrificed himself, and thus he had earned her eternal gratitude. Not that he didn't already place himself in a favourite light from the beginning, as the only one who felt really sympathetic to her when she was still deemed a prisoner.
Varric was just this guy you couldn't help but like. Charming, charismatic, cunning, he always had a few words to say that would bring a smile to her face. She certainly appreciated that the last week.
Solas was a bit of a mystery, though. He had also been there from the beginning. She remembered at first being happy to see another Elven mage not belonging to a circle, but it didn't take long to understand that he didn't like the Dalish at all. He was cordial enough to her, of course, and he had stories to tell that could make her forget the real world for a while. But she could see him looking at the Vallaslin on her cheekbones from time to time, the best visual representation of her Dalish ancestry, and those gazes were always accompanied with a furrow on his brow, like earlier. Well, hiss loss, she thought.
Cassandra helped support her hobble back to the camp. The men were finished washing sooner and had started a fire.
Around the campfire, they were clearly enjoying their racial diversity and jabbing prejudices against each other in a playful manner.
"While we're sharing surprises, Solas, you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected," Dorian replied.
"Tevinter lore about elves remains accurate as always," Solas said, shaking his head.
"I wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song, just once," Dorian said with a dramatic sigh.
Ennaly found a spot near the fire, sat down, and started to braid her hair. "Well for once, Tevinter is right," she said. All eyes turned to her. "What? You can't think that I lived in the woods and not did my share of naked dancing."
"Good to see there's always someone to keep the stereotypes intact," Dorian mentioned.
"Thought, I never said I hadn't," Solas confessed, a sudden smirk on his face. She didn't know he had it in him.
Ennaly couldn't suppress a grin of herself. "We all had such high hopes for you, Solas. You're both the most and the least Elfy-Elf that I know."
"Both Elves confessed?" Dorian asked. "Well, if you feel the urge, there's a lovely patch of moonlight there." He waved to the other side of the clearing.
"I am going to take a pass," Solas replied.
"And well, no dancing for me for a few days," Ennaly said, adjusting her leg. "Not much moving around to be done with my foot."
"Such a shame," Dorian sighed. "Still no flowers for me."
Ennaly reached behind her to pluck a lone daisy from the grass. She held it between thumb and forefinger and gently blew. Guided by just a little magic, the yellow flower found its way towards Dorian. She saw Cassandra giving her a scrutinous look, which she ignored.
"You don't need magic to find a flower, Dorian," she said, as the Tevinter plucked it from the air.
"But wait a moment, let's trail back here," Varric said. "Dancing in the moonlight, do I sense a story here?"
"I'll have to hold my tongue, Varric, lest I'll be the character in your next raunchy tale," she smiled.
It felt like a lifetime ago, a different Elf, that danced under the moonlight. An Elf that dwelled underneath the trees, without a worry that the sky would rain down.
"Herald, such a tease!" Varric exclaimed. "I have got to hear those stories at some point. Do you think there is an audience for a good Elven romance serial? I could set it in the olden days, Solas could supply me with some good historical details."
"And see those details butchered for the sake of cheap romance? I think I'll have to take another pass," Solas responded.
Varric gave a disappointed sigh. "Think about it though. Two Elven mages, questing together for a greater cause, but at the end, they find themselves on opposite sides of a conflict... Will their love endure? I do feel like I need to add a human in there somehow, perhaps a love triangle. Makes it easier to relate to the broader audience. Now I just need to think of a good villain…"
He searched in his pack for a notebook and began to scribble away. Meanwhile, Dorian had found a bottle of some strong drink and filled some small cups with the golden liquid. He handed out the drinks to everyone.
"To the happy days of dancing naked in the moonlight," he declared. "Might they soon return!"