Propriety
The Rotunda under Leliana's rookery and the Inquisition's library had begun to transform. Though she had seen no one put brush to the walls, inside there had been painted the great eye of the Inquisition. Though it was rough it seemed the image had been placed there all at once, as though a very focused mind had pictured it for days before putting paint to the wall. She supposed it was better they had done so, for the wall was great and the rotunda quite a public area. If anything were to be off, it would have been on display for all to see.
She tilted her head at the outlines of wolves, the fragmented shadows that broke the image, and the rays of light, the sun or perhaps the Breach, stretched down from the top to bathe the lower reaches of the painting, fading it. The work was so different than anything Enya had ever seen. The Dalish were not a people who often painted, for the added weight of slates and canvases would slow the Aravels and was unnecessary, but since joining the Inquisition there had been an abundance of paintings to peruse if one were paying attention. And usually she was. Val Royeux, the Chantry in Haven, even Redcliffe castle had examples to offer her of the many styles of Thedas. This was unlike any she'd seen and yet somehow it unusual nature seemed familiar to her, like the voice of a lover long forgotten until it is heard again.
Enya shook her head and scoffed at herself. She had never ceased being a romantic, no matter the few men she'd spent time with, but of late, it seemed that left to her own devices the world had become romantic to her. Or oppressive, given the chance. She moved on from the fresco and up to the library, where she found Dorian tutting under his breath about a book he'd pulled from the Inquisition's well stocked shelves.
"Honestly, all I ask is one simple book on arcane magic, but can I find it? No. But if I want to find out whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Tuesday, I have six different references!" he dropped the book to the ground, "This is why I have a problem with religion. An entire wealth of knowledge that the inquisition could have at it's disposal, a thousand banned books and this library is limited by what Mother Giselle finds appropriate."
"You're not Andrastian?"
"Not as the Chantry would have it, no. Days spent chanting the chant, condemning all who fail to worship as I do," he gave a humorless chuckle and closed yet another book, "If I wanted a lesson in hypocrisy, I'd just ask my father."
Enya cocked her head in question but the Tevinter mage sighed instead.
"But that is a story for another day. Did my ears deceive me or am I to believe there was something of a kerfuffle in the courtyard today?"
Enya crossed her arms, "No kerfuffle. Just a bit of an… unwanted meeting."
"Between the Champion of Kirkwall and our Beloved Seeker. I also heard there was no kerfuffle because you stopped it."
"I'd like to think there wouldn't have been one at all, Dorian."
"Well we'll never no will we?" he pulled another book out of the shelf, "Swords and Shields. Another one of Varric's books. His 'Tale of the Champion' was riveting. Even his 'Hard in Hightown' series was passable, but these. No one should be subjected to such…unnecessary scribbles."
He rooted through a few more books on the shelf, dropping anything he didn't agree with on the ground and then turned to her, "Did you come up here for something?"
Enya shifted, "Not really. I just thought I'd get to know you better, that's all."
"Ah, our elven mage friend isn't around for you to talk to so you thought you'd try the next best thing." He smirked, his eyebrow creeping toward his hairline, "I will try hard to hide my offense."
Enya hid her blush behind behind an outraged response, "I did no such thing. I genuinely wanted to talk to you Dorian. And while we're on the subject of books, if you want something else to read, make a list and give it to Josephine. The Inquisition should have the best library possible, especially with all the rebel mages around. I want to have the best of resources for you." She let out a hefty breath, "And speaking of Solas, there is a good chance he has some of the tomes you're looking for. He often has about six on hand."
Dorian chuckled, "I will try to make a list and give it to our esteemed ambassador. I'm afraid some of the books I want might give her trouble though. Most are not permitted outside of the Imperium. As for talking to Solas, I might leave that for another day. I find conversations with him go very similarly to most conversations I have with elves who know I am Tevinter. A hop skip and then on to slavery."
Enya shifted staring back at the mage. His shoulders sagged in resignation.
"Really?"
"You did bring it up Dorian." She pointed out.
"Fine, I suppose yes, growing up I had slaves. And yes, most were elves. But when it's part of your life, part of your culture, it isn't as if you know anything different. I didn't realize there was anything different until I left Tevinter."
Enya scowled, "But they were people Dorian. They had lives and families and they were all enslaved to your family."
"Yes, and to me there was very little difference between slaves and servants until I got beyond the Imperium. Our family always treated our slaves well. They were clothed, had good homes."
"Even if you took perfect care of them, they were still slaves Dorian. Robbed of their free will. A servant can quit their job if something goes wrong, a slave must-"
Dorian held up a hand, "I won't be judged for something I thought nothing about until I was much older. When I left the Imperium, it was of my own free will, but before that, I had been robbed of it myself. Were I a magister I would be the first to suggest an end to slavery within the Imperium. Now could we kindly change the subject?"
Drawing a deep breath and then another, Enya allowed her mind to settle. Dorian was not her enemy, after all, in fact, she found him generally quite good company. Even their present conversation had given her a chance to consider a different perspective. Could someone truly not realize that slavery was wrong?
"Alright. What was it like to be a magister in the Imperium?"
Dorian gave an aggravated sigh, "Alright, I'll say it once. I am a mage of the Imperium, but not a Magister. Not all mages are accomplished enough to end up in the Magisterium."
He was a mage of no small talent, she had seen each time he travelled with her on a mission. Was it really possible that the other mages of Tevinter were that much more accomplished?
"Then why are you not a magister?" She asked.
"Well people have to like you too. And despite being exceptionally good looking, I failed to capture the hearts of my countrymen like others had. So, I remained an Altus under the careful tutelage of Magister Alexius," he crossed his arms, "Sadly the loss of his wife and son drove him mad. He was a great man, and far from the withered shell of a mage who ripped open time and space to accomplish his own desires. The Alexius who taught me would never have dreamed of doing such a thing. But loss can change a person."
Enya hummed her agreement.
"So, are all the Dalish as obsessed with blood magic and infanticide as people suggest?"
Enya's eyes widened, "What?!"
"Well I just thought I'd give what most people do to citizens of Tevinter a try."
"If you're trying to make a point Dorian, I get the message," Enya crossed her arms.
"Good, that clears all that awkward mess up then. We understand each other."
He flopped into the rather plush armchair nestled against the windows having finally found a book he deemed acceptable.
"I forgot to ask about human sacrifice," he glanced over the cover of the book, merriment dancing in his eyes.
"Oh don't worry Dorian. We only eat Tevinter mages when the blood moon rises over the Waking Sea. That should keep you safe for another few weeks at least."
He let out a loud guffaw of surprise, "Who would have guessed, the serious, Dalish Inquisitor can make a joke!"
They laughed for a few minutes and then he sobered, "In all seriousness, Inquisitor, I do think you should know that I am thankful to you for allowing me to join the Inquisition."
She looked away from the mage for a while, "The Inquisition is here for everyone, anyone, who needs it. I could no more have turned you away than I could have made the sun move west to east."
"That is where you are wrong, but I appreciate the thought. What was this I heard about something in Crestwood?"
Enya crossed her arms, "You hear a great deal Dorian."
"What can I say, I'm utterly charming. It just coaxes such things right out of people."
"Mmhmm" Enya gestured to the crowing ravens in cages above, "And I'm sure spending all of your time downstairs from our spymaster has nothing to do with it."
He smirked, "None at all. As a matter of fact, it's quite difficult to hear over those birds."
"Fine. Yes, I'm going to Crestwood to meet with someone. But Leliana says that more of us should go just in case we need some additional aid. Crestwood is farther than we have gone before." She paused and then added, "If you'd like to join, you would be welcome."
"As you wish, Inquisitor," he bowed his head to her and then went back to his book.
A group of eight departed from Skyhold a few days after Hawke's departure. Cullen relayed a message from Scout Harding that a castle in the area that had been taken over by bandits. He asked that they clear out the fortress in the hopes that it might serve as a base of operations in Ferelden. Josephine still thought it would cause trouble, but she conceded when the commander argued that they couldn't help Thedas if their troops had to return to Skyhold each time they needed weapons or armor repaired or supplies restocked.
Enya took the lead, following the paths out and around the mountains through Orlais and down the edge of the Dales to Gherlen's pass. The way they had come from Ferelden to Skyhold had been filled by the snow that rushed up the slopes of the mountains and had become impassible. For that, she was actually glad, though the journey was far longer than it would have been had they gone through Sulcher's Pass. She did not much want to travel past the ruins of Haven and find the Inquisition's soldiers still digging for bodies in the ruins.
They camped the first night in the foothills of the Frostbacks. Night fell quickly and early so close to the mountains. By the time midafternoon had past they were well within the shadow of the great peaks. Even so, the air about Enya tickled her skin. Both pleasant and unnerving, the sensation kept her awake long past the flames fading to embers. Though it was winter here as well, outside of the mountains and further North, the air was milder, at least during the day. At night, her breath fogged the air and her pensive wandering was only made possible with a thick woolen cloak, which she tightened about herself.
There were few trees in this part of the Dales, she noted, but the moonlight bounced off the tall spires of rock that adorned the ground. The short scrubby grass did little to make up for the hardness of the earth beneath them. Enya sighed, staring up at the stars, counting the constellations she found there.
Andruil's bow shown directly over her head, seven stars aligned in such a way that they formed a perfect arching recurve. The Ravens sat in the southern sky, half obscured by clouds. The Dragon rested to the north of Andruil's bow, always hunted by the goddess of the forest. It was said that if one were to follow the bow to the dragon, they would always know north and home. To the east, partially hidden behind the raking Frostbacks lay the hammer of June, broad and solid, it was made up of fourteen stars.
She could almost imagine that her father stood at her side and she was small. Enya could still remember how tiny her hands had been when he'd first shown her the stars, feel the way they stretched to enclose his forearm. It was her first lesson as a hunter. Learn the stars, he said, learn the moon for in the absence of direction, in the absence of the gods, they remained as a guide. Had she been more than five winters when he'd first told her that?
The anchor seered in her hand, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain. Enya grabbed her wrist, cursing and worked to calm the furious magic of the Fade pulsing, green and ghastly, through her palm. She'd only just managed to stem the tide when something brushed against her arm. She spun, but nothing was there. All at once the cold of the night closed in and it was no longer inviting, nor beautiful but terrible and suffocating. She withdrew to the fire and lay beneath her blankets, trying and failing to reach the blissful abandon of sleep.
In the morning, Cassandra took the lead. Enya, exhausted from the night, rode near the rear, offering directions whenever she felt it was needed. Her hand failed cycled through states of fitful unrest and painful calm. By midday her whole arm ached and she settled it in her lap, guiding her horse with only her right and hoping the day would not require galloping.
"You can feel them," Solas' voice drew her attention away from the road.
Enya met his gaze, "I can. But who are they?"
"In the Dales, the spirits press upon the Veil, brought forth by the atrocities committed here. They reach out to the to travelers." he explained, "It is not often one would pay them any heed."
"I felt a presence last night. Something brushed against my arm."
"The Veil is weaker here than it is across the rest of Thedas. What you felt was no doubt a spirit just on the other side, pushing past you in the Fade, or perhaps even reaching out to you."
Enya was quiet for several moments, staring down at Theneras' neck. She wove the fingers of her left hand through his long mane and he took several steps sideways at the touch of her Mark. She withdrew the hand to her lap again.
"Can they see us?" she returned her gaze to Solas, "In the Fade. Do they wait on the other side of the Veil, watching us?"
"In a manner of speaking. For a spirit, it is sensation by which they perceive our world. Undoubtedly, that is why one reached out to you. You are, after all, unique."
Enya glanced down at her hand, "I suppose this is like a beacon to them."
"I imagine just as it draws people's interest in this world, it also draws interest in the Fade." A half-smile graced his sharp features, "But it was not to the Anchor that I was referring. I can scarce imagine a spirit who would not wish to meet a woman such as you."
Her heart skipped a beat and Enya turned away, skin tingling. She took a few deep breaths. She could never tell if he was paying her a compliment or merely stating what he felt to be a fact. His words always carried intent. She doubted strongly that Solas ever said anything he did not mean, but she couldn't understand how he didn't realize the effect such comments had on her.
She drew another deep breath, blush gone, "I shouldn't have been afraid."
"No, but fear is a natural reaction to the unknown. One that, unfortunately, experience shows us, is a great obstacle to learning," Solas paused, warmth simmering in the depths of his stormy eyes, "I do not believe fear will force your retreat again, Lethallan."
They lapsed into silence, Enya's hand alternately burning and cooling as the company rode onward. The Waking Sea appeared by nightfall and the thick air of the Dales left them in favor of a sharp, stinging spray and the faint scent of salt and fish. Boats and barges dotted the vast grey-green water before them, a meadow of blooming of their cargo and sails. They were close to the road to Val Royeux, only a few leagues to the East and the ships on the sea were grand, adorned with gold and sails that shown like silk.
Dorian groaned at the sight. He declared that the Maker would sooner come down from the Golden City and kiss him than he would ever get on another boat. Amid laughter, askance faces and disgusted noises, they turned eastward along the rocky shore.
They reached the Storm Coast by the third day, failing to find a more straightforward pass inland. Blackwall requested they use Scout Harding's maps to find the artifacts the Grey Wardens had left behind. Though Enya was loathe to add more time to their journey, Hawke would have been in Crestwood for days with her contact, the artifacts had the potential to shed light on where the Wardens might have been travelling. They gathered them along the way, subduing not only the Blades of Hessarian, who swiftly became allies of the Inquisition at the fall of their leader, but also a few bears that wandered the Coast. Iron Bull mourned the missed chance to fight the dragon that wandered the cliffs but Enya pointed out that dragon fighting was not their primary objective and he conceded.
On the fourth day, rounding the northernmost tip of Lake Calenhad, they came upon a rift and unlike when they traveled through the Dales, the burst of energy that filled Enya's palm was welcome. With so many people, they defeated the demons with ease and Enya closed the Rift. Warmth spread through her hand, soothing the ache of the stiff muscles in her arm.
That night they settled around a roaring campfire. Unlike on the Storm Coast, the wood had been dry and plentiful. Iron Bull carried back an armful of logs. The Qunari let out a bark of laughter when Cassandra called him a showoff.
"Next time I'll leave some for you Seeker."
Cassandra rolled her eyes and sat down next to Enya, "Had I known he would be worse than Varric, I might have objected to him joining."
The Nevarran and Varric had kindled a tenuous accord in the days following their heated dispute in the armory. Though Cassandra was clearly still angry, it seemed to Enya that she was not without empathy for Varric's plight and this mitigated her wrath.
A glass or two of some Antivan brandy Josephine had given Bull later, everyone was warm and jovial around the rosy campfire. Enya, who often refrained from drinking more than a sip or two of alcohol, she knew she handled it poorly, felt a keen buzzing inside her mind. Varric finished yet another story about a drunk knight from Denerim. This time, the man was convinced he was King Maric and challenged King Alistair to a duel. Though amusing, Enya highly doubted a single word of it was true. As a follow-up to the tale, the Iron Bull launch into his own story of conquest that left everyone slightly uncomfortable.
"Was that really necessary, Bull?" Cassandra asked.
The Iron Bull glanced around at the faces of the people sitting at the fire, a decidedly befuddled expression spreading across his face, "Is this not common conversation? Come now it isn't as if there is a one of you who doesn't know what it's like."
Enya opened and closed her mouth and then took another drink. Dorian let out a loose chuckle and Varric shifted. The seeker simply sat there for a moment, aghast.
"Seeker come now you must be nearly, what, 40? Don't tell me no one has ruffled your undergarments."
"Of course, but…"
Cassandra's face was red. Whether from anger or embarrassment, Enya couldn't tell.
She tried to intervene, "Bull, I'm not so sure that-"
"How many?" Bull interrupted.
"What?!" Cassandra snapped.
"How many men?"
"I refuse to answer that question."
"Come on, Blackwall will answer. Won't you Warden?"
"By my last count, fifteen. Women of course. Not men." Blackwall
"See Seeker? He's not shy. Who else? Varric? Solas?"
Varric sighed, "Fine, I'll play. Four."
"Four? You're a writer aren't you. The ladies love writers. I would have expected you've had scores."
"And if it were only sex I was looking for, then there would be."
Despite herself, Enya grinned. Varric was always full of surprises.
"Eight," Dorian offered taking another sip of the Antivan Brandy, "The ones I can remember anyway. And they were men. Handsome too."
The Bull patted the Tevinter mage of the back, spilling a great deal of Dorian's drink on the ground, "Ah-ha. An honest, man. I like that. Inquisitor! Care to share?"
Despite all the alcohol she had consumed, she still felt a rush of heat to her face as all eyes fell to her. It had been quite some time, since before her father had died. Enya bit her lip, and, emboldened by the alcohol she's consumed, answered.
"Three." Her heart pounded in her throat, "And that's all the more I'll say on the matter."
She took a large swig of the brandy and coughed as it burned its way down her throat.
"Fine!" Cassandra threw up her hands, "Two. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Bull? Two men."
"Almost. Solas!" The Qunari rounded on the Inquisition's elvhen mage, "Surely, you haven't spent all of your time alone. How many lovely ladies managed to end up in your bed?"
"No, I have not." His words bit the air, punctuated by the consonants.
Enya was surprised to see that despite the alcohol, this line of questioning seemed not to settle well with him. Indeed, her elvhen friend almost appeared angry. Solas set his cup on the ground.
"But sex is not an act I wish to quantify or recount for the sake of a crude, childish game," Solas rose from his spot by the fire and retreated to the darkness beyond the fire.
Silence stretched for several moments as each comrade juggled a touch of guilt. Bull broke the silence with a toast.
"To uncomfortable silences!"
Except for Enya, they all lifted their glasses and drank. Enya raised her to her lips but couldn't bring herself to take a sip. While the others continued to chat, she took the spinning of her head as a suggestion that sleep should come soon and retreated to her bedroll against the outside wall of her tent. In the silence that followed, she drifted off, only just barely awake enough to hear the quiet footfalls of bare feet enter the tent. After some shuffling, and finally a sigh from one of the other three bedrolls, Enya fell asleep to the rhythm of her companion's gentle breathing.
a/n- We were supposed to actually get to Crestwood in this chapter. Somehow it got away from me, but I didn't want to lose the dialogue I've put in here, as I feel it is some of the best character development I have done so far. We hadn't really gotten a chance to get to know Dorian or Iron Bull yet. While I did start to lay the groundwork for the FWB relationship/romance that shows up later on in the game, I am not entirely certain that it will come to fruition, just because it is not a relationship I really liked.
As for the discussion they had at the end of the chapter: For whatever reason, this conversation has been rattling about in my brain for a long time. I'm not sure why. I'm not even sure what made me think of it in the first place, but I knew it had to happen early on in the game and they also ALL needed to be there. I had several responses worked out for each of the characters for this discussion, including Solas. I chose the one I did because of the party banter between Blackwall, Sera and Solas about having sex with spirits. Though Solas does reveal himself later in the game to be quite forward with regards to talking about sex, it is clearly something he feels strongly about on a much deeper level than simple instinctual reaction. Similarly, Cassandra, who we know has a romantic side as well as one steeped in propriety, only relents and reveals her number (which I realize contradicts the game's number) after Enya is forthcoming about hers. Varric was the only one for whom I had no other response prepared. At his heart, Varric is an idealist and a romantic, even if he often falls prey to experience and reality.
Okay shutting up now.