Your Words
Ennaly woke abruptly. She was still curled up on Dorian's bed. At the table, Varric and Dorian both were asleep, their head resting on the tabletop.
It was warm in the hut and Ennaly's head felt spinning. That one drink was stronger than she wished it had been. She got up, regretted the absence of her staff, and hobbled on one leg to exit the hut. For a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned back to the door. It was late at night and it was blissfully quiet around. The cold air on her face felt good, and cleared her mind for the fog left by the drink.
Inside, Ennaly felt a gnawing feeling she couldn't quite explain. Digging up old memories had left her feeling melancholic, and she couldn't shake them away. Varric and Dorian were dear to her, but they could never understand the life she led before with the Dalish. Dorian would always look at it with the glasses of a Tevinter, those that destroyed what the Elvhen once had been. He and Varric would have their sympathies, sure, but they just could never truly relate.
When she opened her eyes, she saw there was still light in Solas' hut. She could see a silhouette on the other side of the curtain, which meant that the mage must still be awake.
He was an Elf. Perhaps that's what she needed right now. Another perspective, or simply a face with familiar features.
In the dark, it was a lot harder to hobble on the uneven ground. She managed to find her way to his door and knocked. "Solas?" she asked, not too loud so she wouldn't disturb the serene silence of the night air.
The door opened and the surprised figure of Solas appeared. "Ennaly," he replied. He noticed her unstable wobble. "Please, sit down." He took her arm and led her to a chair. "I heard you all laughing in Dorian's hut earlier."
"I fell asleep," Ennaly confessed and took the cup of water Solas offered her. "And when I awoke, they were asleep." She took a gulp. It felt good on her parched throat. "I saw light on here, and thought… I'd thought to come here."
A wave a melancholy hit her.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asked, his tone friendly, with perhaps a little concern in it, or was it apprehension?
Ennaly looked at him for a moment. She didn't really know what she expected. There was something about Solas that was always… stoic, he didn't seem to express all the times. She wished she could suppress her own emotions as easily.
"You must think me foolish," she sighed.
"I think no such thing," Solas responded. "You have been through a lot in a short period of time. From a prisoner to being called the Herald. It would be strange had it not affected you."
The words were consoling.
"You seem to be able to keep your cool, no matter the circumstances," she said.
Solas chuckled. "Well. I am older, am I not? And I am not at the centre of this hurricane, that is you."
Ennaly narrowed her eyes, trying to determine his age, something she was never very good at. "You're not that much older than I am. I am 31."
Solas smiled. "I am old enough to consider that young, Lethallan."
The use of Elvish surprised Ennaly, but she welcomed it. "Well… if you're willing… I could do with another tale as a distraction. I'd rather not be swept away by this hurricane, after all."
"Of course," Solas said, and started another tale.
Solas' way with words and soft voice were the perfect distraction. His words painted brushstrokes on her mind's canvas and she could see his tales come to life in her mind, like she could walk around in what they sketched. His depiction of Arlathan as a city of crystal spire made her yearn for bygone times.
"I wish I had been born at that time," she said wistfully as Solas finished his tale. She looked up, and was surprised to see a look with a hint of sadness in there. When she locked his gaze, his eyes trailed off, and she could see him following the lines of her Vallaslin. The look of sadness increased, and for a moment, it seemed to mix with a hint of anger.
"Does my Vallaslin displease you?" she asked. "I see you looking at times, and all it ever does, is make you furrow your brow. Do you dislike the Dalish so much that you cannot stand to look at our faces?"
Solas looked taken aback and adjusted his posture in his chair, sitting up straight. His look was intense, unexpected. She couldn't quite make sense of it. It was almost as if there was hurt in there, soul-clenching hurt. He looked up, locked eyes with her.
She could feel the static charge of the atmosphere. She could feel the blood rise to her cheeks, and a flutter awoke in her heart. She wondered if she could even utter a sound if she tried. At the same time, she had to say something, or this charged atmosphere would surely discharge and sweep her away.
"It's Mythal's," she said in a whisper, her voice almost faltering. "You know, my Vallaslin, it is to revere... Mythal."
"Mythal," he muttered back. He broke eye contact, and it broke the spell.
Ennaly sat still, not able to move, her heart pounding. She needed a moment to recover from the intensity.
Solas didn't seem to need the same. There was a mask again, on his face.
"It suits you," he said finally, his tone back to normal. "As a matter of fact, the purple compliments the colour of your eyes most beautifully."
Ennaly narrowed her eyes, ignoring the soft flush she felt creeping on her cheeks. "Don't deflect the question with flattery," she accused.
"It was no deflection," Solas replied, smooth as ever. "And no flattery either. It was a statement. The purple in your Vallaslin brings out the purple in your eyes. The effect is quite beautiful. I am certain you yourself are aware of your finer qualities."
Ennaly had a hard time to come up with a good reply to this that was witty enough without giving in to his words. She averted her gaze, trying to still the flutter the felt creeping in her heart. She liked her own eyes, at a glance they were blue-grey, but the outer ring of her iris was a dark purple. Purple flecks were scattered among the blue and grey lines, and with the purple Vallaslin, her eyes looked more purple. She did consider it her best feature.
But to hear Solas call it out like that...
"Well... No... Yes... Maybe," she muttered. She gathered courage and faced Solas, knowing her face was still flushed. He had a smug but amused smile on his face and otherwise seemed completely calm.
"You seem to have a great dislike for my people," she said, finally. "I just wonder why, what wrong have we done upon you?"
The expression faded from Solas' face and he leaned back in his chair. "I have no intention of arguing your... heritage," he said, choosing the word carefully.
"Well, I'd like to remove this unspoken barrier between us," Ennaly argued. "You might have dreamed about the ancient Elves and had the freedom to do so, but I lived through the legacy. Why don't you feel more connection towards us?"
She had wanted it to be an argument, and accusation, but her last words came out more like a plea. She realized how it sounded as soon as she was done talking, when she couldn't swallow back the words.
It was also when she realized that was her greatest longing here, connection. There weren't that many people around that could understand what she'd been through. Most Elves around were city Elves, and thus had grown up so differently than she. There were a few around that carried Vallaslin, but they all seemed to revere her as the Herald, and seemed to have left their Dalish lives behind them.
"I am sorry," Solas said, grasping at her unspoken plea, compassion in his voice and expression. "I can imagine this must not have been easy, these last few weeks. For none of us, I suppose."
Ennaly sighed. "I think we all wish things went differently at the temple. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I never journeyed away."
"Do you wish you were back at your clan?" Solas asked.
Ennaly contemplated. "I don't know," she confessed. "I mean, if this wasn't going on, sure." She held up her marked hand. "But even if it had been another person that carried this, and not me, how could I not join this cause? It's threatening everything and everyone. I can't walk away, not really… And all of you stay here voluntarily. And when this mess is fixed, it has still changed me, changed everything. I can never go back to how things were before, simply because things aren't as before."
"And what if you could change it back to how it used to be?"
Ennaly looked up. Solas seemed less aware of his surroundings, less guarded, than she'd ever seen him.
"I still don't know," she replied, observing him. "For while I don't see as many faults with the Dalish as you clearly do, there was still hardships in our lives. Human-related, mostly. I mean, if I could go way back, sure. I won't say no to having a stroll in Arlathan."
She laughed, trying to break the sudden tension, but it was short lived. Solas kept staring at his folded hands for a few moments, before he seemed to shake off a thought. He grabbed his cup of water and drank.
"You've been telling me all those ancient stories," Ennaly continued. "Why not share those with the Dalish? I'm sure most of us would be interested to listen."
Solas got back to his usual stoic posture. "I have attempted that. Most care little about improving their lives. They already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore. They wouldn't listen to an unmarked Elf, a flat-ear. My tales nor myself ever found a welcome there. Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn't worth listening to. Over time, it grinds away at you."
Ennaly was taken aback.
She knew he travelled alone, and being rejected by those whom he might have hoped to find unity and understanding – it sounded devastatingly lonely.
"I am sorry. You did not deserve that," she said quietly.
Solas shrugged. "Perhaps your clan would have listened. They were interested enough in outside affairs to send you to the conclave."
"Well yes, it would impact us too, the result of this conflict," Ennaly said, the reason obvious to her. "There are clan members of us in the circles. You know, in our clan, if there are too many mages, we…"
Her voice trailed off. She realized it must seem pretty barbaric how the Dalish disposed of their excess mages. She knew Solas knew, and she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.
"You were the First of your Keeper, weren't you?" Solas said, knowing what words she had left unsaid. "Would have done things differently?" It was clear from his tone that he disapproved.
Ennaly locked eyes and observed him. She carefully thought on her answer before speaking.
"It is easy for you to say," she started. "It is much easier for a sole person to remain free of any danger. But when you're taught to one day lead your people... Everything changes. It's not just about what I want or simple black and white moralities. I was taught to one day bear the responsibility for the children, the elderly, the ill... No choice was simple. Sometimes you need to be willing to make the hard choices, and make sacrifices. But I would do it in the kindest way I possibly could."
She saw Solas locked in a frown.
"Don't think I'd just sacrifice other people. I've made enough personal sacrifices. Trading was hard. Sometimes we needed supplies that we could not gather or make ourselves, so we had to turn to people. From when I was a teenager, our Keeper would take me with her, to teach me how to interact. Some humans were kind. Some were not. We'll trade it for a kiss, they'd taunt. Pride wouldn't get me far, not if there were others in the clan that relied on the trade.
There was one constant fact we needed to remember: the humans would always outnumber us. And you'd had to be careful with magic. If you made a wrong move, if there were humans who didn't like you, well, they could run off to the templars and soon you'd have to flee for your lives with everyone. It has happened. That also means sometimes you'd need to forget about revenges. There were always humans around that would thrust themselves on our girls, or kill hunters, just because they could. And we couldn't always do anything, couldn't take revenge. The humans always outnumbered the Elves. Sometimes you needed the trade, some medicine needed to treat a life-threatening illness, so you'd just had to grit your teeth, take it, and hope it would be over soon."
A ringing silence. Ennaly was shocked she had spoken hat out loud. She averted her gaze, embarred, wishing she could swallow back the words. She was scared he'd think less of her for having made this confession.
"I am so sorry," Solas said, and he seemed it. "I truly am. Nobody should have to experience anything like that. And not being able to use your magic –"
"Well, it was the truth," Ennaly replied, trying to keep her voice casual. She looked up again, a don't-challenge-me expression on her face, which slowly faltered at the true sorrow she saw on Solas' face.
"Well, yes…" she faltered. "I don't need pity nor applause. I was neither a victim nor a hero. Just know that's it a lot harder when it's not just about you."
Solas' gaze of sorrow turned to anger.
"Do you disagree?" Ennaly asked, a little taken aback. For a moment she feared he indeed thought less of her.
"No," Solas said. "I am sorry for the sacrifices you had to make. I just wished it would not have been necessary. I am angry on your behalf. Those humans…"
Ennaly reached out, she wasn't quite sure what for, and let her arms rest on the table instead. "Don't be angry on my behalf," she said, empathy on her face, interrupting him. His anger moved her. It meant he felt some sort of connection, empathy towards her. "It might have been unfair, but I'll live through it. I've made my peace. My clan member lived through her illness, and was able to hold her children in her arms again. And those humans, well… May the Dread Wolf take them, right?"
Solas looked taken aback.
"That's just a saying we have," Ennaly said, remembering that Solas did not keep the Elven pantheon. She exhaled deeply to try and clear her thought. "Thank you for talking with me," she said, smiling to Solas. "I'm sorry to have barged in here with my arguing, it was never my intension to disturb your peaceful evening."
"Don't apologize," Solas replied. "Your words have made me think."
Ennaly took the cup of water in front of her and finished it. "I really should get back to my own hut," she said.
"Let me walk you there," Solas offered.
"I don't need a hero," she replied, not wanting his presumed pity. But then, as she was getting up, Solas already getting to his feet to help her, her ankle gave way and with a sharp jab of pain, she dropped on her chair again. "Oh." She turned red. "I'd forgotten about that."
Underneath the concern, there was a dry smile on Solas' face as he offered his arm to Ennaly to lean on. She gave him a half-annoyed, half-grateful look.
"Your words, not mine," he replied, amused and a little smugly, as Ennaly took his arm.
"Yes, yes, fine, I'll play the damsel," Ennaly replied with a heavy sigh. "But don't think I'll be making doe-eyes at you. Well, you did say they were pretty."
"I thought that was simply deflection?" Solas said, shooting her own words back at her. "And I believed the word I used was beautiful."
That awoke some fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Sure, you win. Well, don't enjoy it too much," Ennaly shot back, trying to ignore the feeling. He was strong, and smelled like spices, clove and nutmeg. He seemed to have no problem carrying half of her weight.
"I do have to warn you, I don't have a white horse around," Solas noted, opening the door and let the cool air wash over them, before exiting and going off in the direction of Ennaly's hut. Ennaly could hear the reference back to this afternoon, at the stables. It didn't help the matter.
"Hmm no, a horse is not your style," Ennaly said, keeping her voice casual, trying to ignore this new feeling inside her. "A halla, perhaps?"
"How about a gryphon?"
"No, a dragon?"
"Too ferocious. Maybe a wyvern?"
"No – I know, a wolf!" Ennaly decided.
"A wolf?" Solas repeated, surprised.
"Yes, that's more your style. Isn't that what you're wearing around your neck, the jawbone?"
"That is true."
"So, we agree. A wolf, then."
