Chapter 14: The Problem with Poison
Solas ordered his Sentinels to bring him Zarrak. The Antivan cowered, eyes darting about fearfully as the Sentinels forced him to his knees, spears aimed at his throat. Solas glowered at the man squirming before him. "Something is wrong with her. Tell me what you did."
Zarrak opened and shut his mouth like a gaping fish. "This is the first I have heard of this, I assure you, Dread Wolf: it was not I who did anything to her. Perhaps it is as she suggested the other day and she is merely ill?"
"She collapsed. I am not taking any chances. Tell me what you did and I may let you live," he threatened, meaning every word.
Zarrak shook his head frantically. "I did nothing! I swear! I do not want her hurt. This I swear." He made a sign over his heart as a show of honesty.
"Then I am putting you under strict watch until she is better. And if she does not recover…" he paused, repressing the surge of fear and terror at the thought. "If she continues to decline in her health, then you had better find out the cause of whoever or whatever is doing this to her."
Zarrak nodded hastily. "Yes. Most certainly. I will be ever vigilant."
Solas said nothing, grinding his teeth together as the Sentinels took Zarrak away.
When he was out of sight, Solas returned to her tent and knelt down by her side. Taking a cloth from a bowl, he cooled the water inside with a spell and soaked the cloth. Then he placed the damp, cooled cloth upon her forehead. His knuckles grazed her cheek before he took her hand in his, holding it tight.
All the while he waited and prayed.
She awoke over an hour later, blinking up at him sleepily. "What happened?" she asked, pressing her hand to her head as a dull pounding drummed against the inside of her skull.
"You collapsed after the meeting with the Council. Here, drink some water," Solas said, offering her a water skin.
She accepted it and drank, surprised at how thirsty she was. "How long was I out?"
"An hour and half. I carried you back here and you slept. How do you feel?"
"Not the best. My head is pounding. And I'm tired. I suppose the meeting took a lot out of me."
"Have you eaten today?"
She shook her head, feeling a bit foolish. "The nerves were getting to me. I could only stomach tea."
"Here. Try a little bread and see how you feel."
She acquiesced and took a bite. With a few gulps of water, she managed to eat the whole roll, which was quite soft and fluffy. She thanked him and handed him back the waterskin. "I'm worrying you again, aren't I?"
"Yes," he said, touching her face and feeling her forehead for any sign of fever. "It is unlike you to collapse like that."
"Well, I suppose it was foolish going into that meeting on an empty-stomach. It lasted for ages. I guess I thought the exhaustion was due to the meeting itself. Honestly, I feel alright now. Just a bit of a headache, but I'll drink and eat a little more and it should go away."
"Vhenan," he said, a note in his voice. "I am worried this may be more than nerves. I fear the Antivan Crow may have poisoned you without your knowledge."
"I highly doubt it. He hasn't been anywhere near me or my food. I think it is the stress. It makes me feel ill and I don't eat and then it makes things worse. Once we are done at Arlathvhen, I should be fine."
Something in her voice told him there was more she was to it than that. For a brief moment his own stomach sickened, wondering if the anchor's lasting effects had weakened her constitution. If that was the case, her body might have a harder time fighting off whatever it was that was making her ill. Whatever it was, be it poison, spoiled food, or sickness, she very likely would have trouble recovering. A pang of guilt hit him in the gut as he dipped the cloth into a bowl of cold water again and set it on her forehead. If he was right, then that too was his fault. She suffered because he had weakened her.
He kissed her forehead, praying she would heal quickly. Their bonding ceremony was tomorrow. It was a day she had dreamed of and he wanted it to be perfect for her. He wanted her to have her health and her happiness on such an important day. "I hope so, vhenan. Please, try to eat and drink more water. You must take care of yourself. You are the most important person to me. Please be well."
But she was not well.
By the next morning, Lavellan thought she had puked out her internal organs. She had finally fallen asleep again after the third round of dry heaving, but it meant that she had slept only a few hours at best.
Sitting by the campfire, she sipped her water and stared down at the piece of bread Ri'vai had forced upon her, trying in vain to summon the willpower to eat it. Shutting her eyes she forced herself to bring it to her lips. It was slow going, but she knew she had to eat something to keep up her strength. This was her bonding day, after all. She would have to find a way to endure. The onset of the vomiting had certainly undercut her excitement and anticipation for the day.
Solas had stayed at her side all night. A gesture she had tried to convince him was entirely unnecessary as there was nothing he could do to help stop it, though she did appreciate his care and attention. He also slept with her in her tent and it felt good to curl up in his arms again.
The memory of losing the contents of her stomach in front of him, didn't exactly make her feel beautiful and radiant. Clammy and frail were more apt. She stared down at her bread in self-loathing. Being sick the night before her bonding was decidedly unromantic and put a damper on her mood.
After she had consumed half of the slice of bread Alarion came up to her, flanked by Trissa and an old childhood friend, Keela, who carried a large chest between them. And behind them came several familiar faces she hadn't expected to see: Leliana, Josephine, and Varric.
Muddling between pleasant surprise and confusion, she raised an eyebrow and hugged each in turn.
Varric laughed and clapped her on the back and for a brief moment she thought he might knock her on her back as she swayed where she stood, forcing herself to keep her breakfast down. She gripped him tighter to steady herself. "Easy there, Inquisitor. Don't go crushing the dwarf." He chuckled and brushed himself off before gesturing behind him to a female elf standing sheepishly off to the side. "Come on. You can say hello. She doesn't bite."
Nervously, the female elf approached, tucking her hair behind her ear and raising a hand to wave shyly. "Aneth ara, Lady Inquisitor. It is wonderful to finally meet you. Varric has told me a great deal about you," she said, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks as she clasped her hands in front of her. She looked from Lavellan to Varric as they waited patiently. "Oh! Right, I'm Merrill. From the Sabrae Clan originally, but I live in the alienage at Kirkwall now. Sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I suppose I just feel like I know you already from all of Varric's stories," she mumbled, twisting her fingers.
Lavellan's eyes widened. "Really? This is the Merrill from all your Kirkwall adventures? Wow, the honor is mine," she said, stepping forward and shaking her hand excitedly, rallying a bit.
"Oh! Varric, I'm afraid to know what tales you've been telling about me," Merrill said reproachfully, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Only the good stuff, Daisy. I promise," he winked.
"Well, one can only hope. Don't worry though, all he's told me about you has given a most favorable impression. Though I suppose you must know each other very well to have invited him to your bonding. Oh, and congratulations, by the way. I do adore bonding ceremonies," Merrill said.
"Thank you. Please, you are welcome to stay and observe. I don't think there's going to be much of an audience though… What?" Lavellan trailed off as Leliana and Josephine started to laugh.
"Clearly you have not yet been to the Grand Arch this morning. There is already quite the crowd gathering," Josephine said.
"Yes. Everyone is fighting to get the best seat possible. I saw a woman elbow a young man out of the way to get a decent view. I suspect there will be no shortage of viewers in attendance. Remember: you are a god-killer marrying a god. This will be a historic moment for your people, if not the world. Everyone will be watching."
"Not quite everyone," Lavellan lamented sadly. She looked to her advisors and friends, yet so few had come. She knew it was unlikely that Sera or Cole would appear. Sera hated anything elfy and disliked Solas for breaking Lavellan's heart. Cole, on the other hand, would have enjoyed the event but was not one who understood customs. He was also difficult to reach these days. It was unlikely that her Red Jenny friend or the spirit of Compassion would come at all. Iron Bull and Blackwall were likely consumed with other missions and tasks. Dorian was in Tevinter focused on his own battles against the Magisterium. Cassandra as Divine was not welcome in such a place as Arlathvhen and was likely too busy with her own work anyway. Vivienne wouldn't see any advantage in attending, nor would she deign to be seen in such undignified company with the Dalish lest it ruin her reputation. "I had thought… Cullen could not come?" she asked, a weight settling like a stone in her stomach.
Josephine and Leliana exchanged a brief glance.
"He… elected to stay behind. To lead the Inquisition in our absence," Josephine said diplomatically, though there was a softness to her voice that clearly indicated she was afraid the news would hurt Lavellan's feelings and she wished to cushion the blow.
"Yes," Leliana said, stepping closer. "Someone has to run operations until we return. Which allowed Jospehine and I to be here with you on your special day. Congratulations," she said, stepping in and giving her a tight hug. "Now come. There is much to do. We must get you ready for the ceremony and I fear we are already running behind."
"Yes, yes. We should start off with a bath. I'm told there is a hot spring nearby and I have been aching to give it a try," Josephine said, rubbing at a sore spot on her back.
"Merrill, would you care to join us? I'm sure you must also be weary from all your travels," Lavellan suggested, not wanting to be rude by excluding a guest. With so few of her friends attending, it would be nice to have the extra company.
"Oh, well, okay, I suppose," she said, looking a bit torn between excitement and nervousness.
"Are you joining us too, Varric?" Lavellan asked, for the dwarf was glancing around with a curious expression.
"Hm? No, no, you girls go. I just want to have a word with your betrothed before things get underway."
Leliana snickered. "Planning on intimidating our old friend, Varric? Is that wise?"
Varric smirked in response. "I'm a clever dwarf. Never said I was a wise one." He waved them away and waited by the campfire for a long overdue conversation.
Solas emerged from his tent in his finery, wearing a set of armor that was both ornate and ceremonial, as well as practical and fully functional. Though there had not been any incidents as of yet since his fight with Varitan, he was not foolish enough to believe there was no danger lurking somewhere amidst Arlathvhen. He looked about for his betrothed, a gnawing fear churning in his stomach. She had been sick most of the night. Whatever poison or illness affected her still had lingering effects, which worried him.
As if sensing who he was searching for, Trissa pointed over her shoulder. "A few of her friends showed up and took her to the hot springs. Don't worry, she seems to be doing alright this morning."
He thanked her and felt his shoulders relax somewhat in relief.
"There's someone over there waiting for you though," Trissa added, jabbing her thumb back towards the center of camp.
Of all the people Solas expected to see sitting on the log in front of the cookfire, he hadn't expected it to be Varric.
"Well, what do we have here?" Varric said, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as Solas approached. "Chuckles finally returns. In a manner of speaking, of course." The familiar jovial tone was undercut by a touch of restrained hostility.
Solas tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back. "Master Tethras. I hear you are the new Viscount of Kirkwall. You have risen quite far since last we met."
"And yet I am not the one who rose to godhood. Fen'Harel, in the flesh. I'll tell you, not even I could write a twist like that." Varric gave him a scathing look. "But then again, I should know better than to trust an apostate who thinks he can fix the world, shouldn't I?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head and biting his lip to hold back all the things he wanted to call Solas. "It makes sense. You did betray us. Your friends, that is. If we ever were that. You never did let anyone get too close, did you?"
Solas pressed his lips together, careful in his composure. "I see you are not here to beat about the bush. Yes, I did betray and lie to the Inquisition. And to you."
"And to her," Varric reminded him with a glare and a scowl. "Let's not forget who you hurt the most here. I don't really matter in the grand scheme of things. But your fiancee sure does. She saved the world for you. Thanks for Corypheus and the Breach, by the way. In fact, let me just say once and for all that the blood for all the people who died because of that mess is on your hands. We all risked our necks to save what you hurt. All of us."
"As I did for you, if you recall," Solas replied, not rising to Varric's bait.
Varric's scowl deepened. "We're just ants to you, aren't we? Pawns in your little chess game. You're even using her for your own gain, marrying her like this after you broke her heart, left her all alone to clean up your mess, and then took her arm! Andraste's ass, you really are scum."
A muscle twitched in Solas's jaw at the accusation. "I am not using her, child of the stone."
"Bullshit. Spout it all you want, Wolfy, but I've met enough people in my time to know a manipulator when I see one. You can't hide it. Because your actions never match what you say. It's all empty promises in the end."
"Do you think so little of her intelligence that I could do that to her?" Solas nearly snapped.
"I wonder how little you must think of her to do that to her. Hell, you fooled us all. Manipulated each and every one of us. And we're not fools, Wolfy. The Inquisitor certainly isn't. But you know what she is? It's exactly what you're not. A good, decent person. One of upstanding moral fiber. She keeps her promises, she has her friends' backs, and she stands and fights when the bad guys come knocking. She's a hero. And she's my friend. Now we both know I'm no threat to a god like you, Wolfy, but I'm gonna say my piece and you're gonna listen. Smite me all you want when I'm finished." He spread his arms out, as if welcoming a lightning bolt from the heavens. When none came he crossed his arms and curled his lip back. "I was there when you broke her heart and left her in little pieces. I overheard you blow her off when she asked for an explanation too. You promised to give her an explanation after Corypheus was defeated. But when he disappeared, so did you. You just left. Now I don't know if you've ever loved anyone other than yourself, but she loved you. Even after you broke her heart, she loved you. And you left her without so much as a goodbye as if she was nothing. I've met some heartless assholes in my day, but you really take the cake when it comes to treating people like crap. No word. No nothing. She thought you were dead for a time.
"I stayed in touch with her, helped where I could, before returning to Kirkwall. I watched her sit at your desk for months, pouring her soul into restoring that stupid orb you left behind. You know, I thought I understood heartbreak and grief pretty well. And betrayal; that too. But coming back two years later only to tell her you planned on destroying the world she had saved because the whole mess was your fault to begin with? Oh, and let's not forget you turned her arm to stone on top of all of that. And then you left! You just left the woman you claimed to love behind, near death, with the complete loss of her arm to look forward to if she survived. You're lucky Dorian was with us and got the bleeding under control after Iron Bull cut it off. But then of course, you let that mark throw her around like a rag doll and kill her like a slow poison without much of a qualm. Call me crazy, but if you actually loved someone, you don't wait around until they're almost dead to try and help them!" Varric balled his hands into fists, shaking with anger as he swallowed his feelings the best he could.
"And the whole time we were chasing the Qunari, she was praying under her breath. Praying for you. That somehow she'd be able to get to you in time. Because even though she was dying, she cared more about someone who abandoned her than her own well-being. She deserved better. She still deserves better than you." He lifted his gaze to Solas's, feeling his anger rise like bile in his throat. "You might have god-like power, Wolfy, but you won't ever measure up to her."
When he was done, Varric shrugged, releasing his anger as he unballed his hands. His shoulders slumped and the fight went out of him as he hung his head.
The whole time Solas felt the lash of Varric's words cut into him without mercy. His fist had gone numb, he had held it so tightly behind his hand for composure to keep a straight face. "Are you quite finished?"
Varric snorted and shrugged. "I guess I am. Smite away."
"I do not claim to be a god, Master Tethras. Only a man trying to atone for his sins. And they are many. I know I have wronged those I once considered friends. And the one I love most." A deep, painful breath escaped his lungs then. "I do not know if I will ever be able to make it up to her. But I am trying. That is why I am here."
Varric scoffed at that. "Tch! Right, like an alliance to end the attacks against you is such a selfless act."
"An alliance is a boon to all. You said this blood is on my hands. Is it not better to prevent further bloodshed through peaceful means?"
Again, Varric shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, there will be bloodshed. Mark my words. I've seen enough to know that every alliance makes enemies. And now you've dragged her into it."
"She involved herself. I would not have had her do so if I had known," he said, meaning it.
"That's the thing you don't get yet. It's the same with every villain in every story. They underestimate others. You underestimated her. And now… Well, now she's doomed to the same fate as any hero. Some tragic ending in self-sacrifice no doubt."
"I will not let that be her fate," Solas swore.
Varric stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've seen this story before. I've written it. And it has 'tragedy' written all over it next to our brave heroine. It was the same for Hawke, sacrificing himself in the Fade. I don't see why it won't turn out the same way for her." He let out a sigh then as if the air was being stolen from his lungs; his chest caved in. "I hope I am wrong." And then, because he had no more fight in him, he turned and left, pausing only briefly to say, "Oh, and congratulations, I suppose. Looks like you got what you wanted, in the end."
Solas watched him go, wondering if he ought to expect a bolt to come flying at him from behind a crowd or a tent later. He hadn't thought Varric would hate him with such vigor. Though the dwarf often tried to hide it, he had a soft heart for his friends and cherished them greatly. Was the reason he had heard from so few of his former companions because they too felt as Varric did? Were former friends now aligned against him? If so, what would bonding with her change?
The sickening feeling in his stomach suddenly twisted. For while he had been listening to Varric, Zarrak, the Antivan Crow, had apparently snuck into Lavellan's tent unaccompanied. The rage that billowed within Solas burned away the sting of Varric's comments as he dove after the criminal and summoned the squirming elf to him with a spell. Clawing at his throat, the former Antivan Crow fought for breath.
"What do you think you are doing?" Solas hissed. "How long have you been poisoning her? What are you using?"
When his grip loosened enough for Zarrak to speak, he held his palms open to show that they were empty and even turned out his pockets. "Nothing. I have done nothing to the lady."
"I saw you! Do not lie to me!"
"It is not a lie! I swear! I was investigating a possible poisoning method that another may have used. I swear it! I would not harm her!"
"Or you were planting the poison yourself."
"No! I swear on my life, I did not. But I know the Crows and how assassins think. It is possible to slip poison into a waterskin or a pot of rouge. The poison would be slower, built up over time."
"And? Did you find any proof?"
Zarrak hesitated, eyes darting about frantically. "Not-not officially. There were some potion bottles and alchemical ingredients in her bags. It's possible they were tampered with. But I would need to run tests to be sure." Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Solas narrowed his eyes, certain that the assassin was keeping something from him. "What theories do you have then?"
"Um, well, it is possible someone slipped something into a potion bottle. Or switched one of the extracts she might take for medicinal purposes. She carried some blood lotus extract and black lotus extract. If someone switched the two and she took the dose for one over the other, there might be side effects that could make her gravely ill. However, they do not appear to be switched. But I recall a strange thing you said after I was captured. You asked her to put on the necklace. I wonder, do you have reason to doubt that she could be poisoned?"
Solas glowered at the man, but his fears got the better of him and he released Zarrak. "The necklace bears properties that should protect her from poisons or ill effects from toxins. Even if someone were poisoning her, it should keep her safe."
Zarrak chewed on this piece of information slowly, rubbing his neck and coughing briefly from the strain Solas had put on his windpipe. Dawning realization came over him as a theory he had pushed aside returned to the forefront. He stepped back from Solas, distancing himself should the mage attack again. "In that case, I think I know who is poisoning her."
Grinding his teeth together, Solas pressed in upon him until the man stumbled back against a tent. "Tell me who it is."
Zarrak swallowed the lump in his throat, finding his mouth too dry to speak. He cringed as Solas's eyes flared, afraid he might be turned to stone without a second thought. "You."