ACT II: Acceptance


My ribs were on fucking fire and my knees complained like they had been replaced with lead weights but I awoke with an eagerness that I hadn't felt since Christmas nearly a decade ago, my childhood happiness rushing through me. With some effort, my hips rolled me up from the cot I was in and upright. Hair in complete disarray and half dressed, I threw on boots and yanked my coat on before dashing outside, tunic, coat, and hair flipping in the breeze.

The ice in the wind hit me first, and then the sunlight that came from the side of the gatehouse, or a little off to one corner of it. The stonework rose up in mighty walls and shadowed the courtyard. My tent was neighboring a few others in the smallest yard just before the main entrance. My feet carried me with a heavy trot toward the secondary, inner portcullis that was raised up fully. It was the crack of dawn and people were already milling about, their hands or steeds weighed down with supplies, crates, or people.

A grin split my face and my breath caught in short bursts within my lungs as I trotted along the wall, my gaze following the cut, hard stairways up toward the higher walkways, I could see the other part of the courtyard not far, a sagging, dank stable house at one end with rows and rows of stables; a few already housing resting steeds (or some sleeping civilians). With creaky knees and a stitch in my side from ignoring the pain in my ribs, I hurried up the main stairway to the second level of the courtyard.

"Holy shit," it was beautiful, stealing my breath and heart all in one go. Buildings stood tall and solid, with minimal damage to their outside fortifications. I could see the Chargers by one of the smaller buildings, it looked like a tavern, and I jogged up to them. Krem spotted me first from the corner of his eyes and handed off the bags he was holding; grinning at me as I approached.

Honestly, I screamed for joy, loud and long and startling, running toward him like a child as happiness bloomed in my chest at the sight of him, whole and alive. Krem jerked in surprised, his arms fumbling with the full weight of me as I charged into him, hugging him fiercely. The lieutenant's barking laughter rang in my ears and he stumbled a bit to account for my injuries, cradling me into his chest, his arms careful around my torso as he returned my hug, surprised and charmed.

I'm so glad you weren't a dream from yesterday.

"Well, good morning to you, too, Your Worship." He laughed, pulling back and holding my shoulders affectionately. He winced, but his grin remained. "Maker, the Chief wasn't lying, you look horrific."

"Oh, fuck you, too." I smacked his arms away, gasping for laughter. "We made it — we did it! I wasn't dreaming!"

Krem flashed me a warm grin. "We did, all thanks to you. I wanted to say before; damn stupid of you takin' on a dragon by your lonesome, but I'm not one to argue results."

"If it looks stupid but it works, it's not stupid." I chimed happily. A hard snort escaped the lieutenant and I could see the eye roll even with the hand he raised to run through his cropped hair.

"Heavens above," he muttered teasingly, smirking at me, "too right you're a handful. Bless the Chief for putting up with your nonsense."

"Speaking of the devil," I asked, glancing around him into the tavern, then behind us back into the courtyard, "where is Bull?"

"Ah." Krem searched briefly and picked up a scroll left on a crate behind him. He opened and scanned it quickly, rubbing at his chin with the back of his wrist for a moment. "According to this, the Spymaster had him go out with half of the company to Orlais for supplies."

My shoulders sagged. "That asshole didn't even say goodbye."

"Why, miss him?" Krem teased, brows wiggling. He laughed at my scowl. "He left well before dawn. Skinner got impatient and Rocky needed to replenish supplies, so the sooner the better. He should be back by the end of next week."

"Holy fuck, how far are we?" I asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"A far distance, actually." Krem sobered and sighed. "On a map, we're not all that far from where the pilgrimage to Haven stopped, but we're higher in the mountain range, and it's a dangerous pass to get through."

A frown touched my face, "... so she sent Bull to clear out the pass?"

"You guessed it." Krem nodded, a confident smile on his face. "Rocky's our explosives expert. We had enough supplies to clear out the pass through the mountains, what with the avalanche and all, but he'll need more after, hence."

"Hence the need for him to leave and Bull to make sure his company is safe, I got it." I followed along. It wasn't as if survival was impossible without the Qunari around, but I had come to rely on his presence the last couple of days while I brought myself back up to speed. It was probably for the best, really, a leader couldn't be dependent on a mercenary commander for support.

I shook my head and glanced over Krem's face, "How is everyone else doing? Could you give me a report?"

"Of us?" Krem clarified, and at my nod, continued: "We're not too bad. We didn't lose any of our men, thankfully. We tried to keep as many of your people safe as we could, Your Worship, but…"

"I know." I softened the blow, offering him a sad smile. "I heard about the civilian casualties. I'm thankful that you guys were there to help." Krem returned my smile with a gentle one of his own, but there was hesitation in his gaze, something that flickered through him as he searched my face.

"Something wrong, Krem?" I probbed, head tilting.

"... it's good to have you alive, Your Worship." Krem replied softly, the same hesitation in his voice. "Not sure — how our lot would have taken it, losin' you." The simplest, sweetest words and they had me melting into my bones with obnoxious tears swelling up into my eyes. A smile forced its way over my mouth and I gave him a watery laugh.

"Well, for one, I would have asked for a refund from the Chargers." I joked, and it spurred Krem out of his somber mood with another laugh.

"I suppose you would." Krem nodded, grinning. "In any case, I've got the men helping with supplies and clean up. The place isn't too bad, just left unattended for quite some time. We should have most of it cleaned up by the end of the week."

"Alright. I'm assuming you're letting Josephine know if you need anything?" I raised an eyebrow. The lieutenant nodded sharply.

"Aye. No sense avoiding it. She's got us clearing the courtyard levels to allow merchants to come settle, the sick are in that building over there." He pointed to one beyond my shoulder and behind me, glued into the furthest wall and nestled from the main thoroughfare.

"And everyone who isn't sick?" I asked, turning back to him. He turned on his heel a bit and pointed to the towers that were along the main walls facing the mountain range and surrounded the main gate.

"See those towers there? Every level has already been fitted with beds and what blankets we still had." He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Not an ideal place, but soldiers are the main company there. Commander Cullen's taken up the highest level near the gate as his office."

"Ah, good to know." I jotted the point down on my mental map to see if I could catch the Commander. The towers were tall and wide, allowing for a fair amount of space. We would need to look for a safer place for civilians away from the gates, but I hadn't explored the rest of the keep yet, so there was hope.

"Where are you lot staying?" I asked, curious where in the keep they managed to hide fifty plus men from a mercenary company.

"The dungeons for now." Krem grinned. "They're just through that door you see there. Yeah, that one. We're keeping there for now, until the valley behind the keep is cleared up."

I blinked, my attention snapping to his face. "Hold up, how big is that space?"

"Honest?" Krem rubbed at his chin. "About a league, give or take on the edges. Good place for tents and pilgrims. We can keep the merchants up here with the soldiers and give people a home behind the keep." It was very Arthurian, to have a keep that housed a small city of people in the future. It was a huge relief as well, knowing that our people weren't going to be first in line for the slaughter like they were at Haven.

Instinctively, I saluted Krem. "Good. Thank you for the update, Krem."

"Aye, Your Worship." He returned the salute readily. "Come to us if you need anything, Chief asked us to keep an eye on you."

"Of course he would, because he's a nice asshole like that." I laughed. With a small tip of my head, I left Krem to his duties with the Chargers and fluttered back to my exploring. The keep was mammoth in both size and design. There was a bit in the way of wasted space, but that was my designer's brain talking. The land that the keep sat on was narrow and not necessarily wide. If I were to recall correctly, many of the old castles, forts, and keeps back on Earth were placed in much the same areas.

My anxiety was appeased the more time I spent wandering through Skyhold. The old faces from Haven gave my rolling stomach a strange sense of comfort and immense relief. Cabot was found in the tavern, grumbling about the missing product and having to order more ale for moral support. Flissa had taken up with the Chantry and stayed away from the tavern.

Seggrit had decided to be more hands on with the transport of refugees, so our recruitment of Bonny Sims came through as she had taken the reins to make sure the merchants had a place to set up and they were slowly starting to line up along the edges of the walls. Food supplies were piling up and the main keep was blocked off due to damage and mess. That would have to wait, but with the breakneck pace that our people were working, I was sure it would be cleared up in no time.

It was about midday before Vivienne found me. I was resting in the gardens tucked away further into the inner guts of the keep, secluded and peaceful. Some of the Chantry Sisters and Mothers had taken up residence in the rooms around the garden, using them as healing rooms or resting rooms for the severely wounded, traumatized, or dying. Morbid as it was, it was an atonement to be close to the people who had fought for the Inquisition.

I was also in mourning, having found out that Chancellor Roderick hadn't survived his wounds.

"Hello Vivienne." I greeted her easily, watching as the woman made her way through the garden's stone paths toward my bench. Her eyes widened marginally for a fraction of a second before she schooled her face into smooth concern, polite and tempered. She stood before me, her gaze inspecting my face.

"Maker," she exclaimed shortly, "you're a mess! Let me have a look at you." And for the umpteenth time, I had a pair of hands on my face and shoulders, turning my chin one way and then another as I was glossed over for injuries or fatalities. One would think that if I was well enough to go bounding around Skyhold like an excitable puppy, I was possibly nowhere near death's door.

Possibly.

"Are you all right, my dear?" She pursed her lips at me, the concern playing quietly through her words. "Were you hurt? You look dreadful."

I chuckled, "I must be doing better, if I don't look like a broken penis. I'm just fine, don't worry."

"You bear it well." She nodded approvingly, taking her hands back and folding them before her, arms resting at her sides. "Good. The troops will take their cue from your composure. Now…" I braced, waiting for whatever slew of points she had lined up in her lecture, as I was sure she hadn't missed the lift I had taken on Bull's back to get up to Skyhold. Or the tumble before that.

"Let's keep up appearances. Do not think anyone ignored your stumble in the snow." She eyed me critically. The words weren't as sharp as I had expected them to be, so I flashed her a cheeky grin. A small, amused smirk tugged at her lips and she flattened it out swiftly.

"You've handled this crisis competently, saving as many lives as you did." Her shoulders straightened as she glanced away to the Sisters that assisted with the wounded throughout the garden, her voice lower. "But the enemy struck a serious blow against you and the Inquisition. We must recognize that. You must."

"Vivienne." The grin slipped from my face and I wasn't sure what replaced it, but it was enough to give the Grand Enchantress pause, her eyes fluttering with a few hard blinks as she focused on me. "I'm not about to let what Corypheus did go unpunished. Hundreds died. He's going to answer for that crime." The pause continued, Vivienne's sharp gaze studying me as if I had morphed in front of her into something new.

She smirked. "You're angry. Good. Anger can save you when everything else is gone." She didn't have to tell me twice. Though there was no way to rightly tell what, beyond pure desperation, had gotten me through the mines under Haven, but it was funneling into something else. Sitting in the gardens and listening to my soldiers and civilians groan or cry with agony or pain, it was fueling the darkening pit in my stomach.

Chancellor Roderick had been one straw of many.

"Our enemy is advancing, Herald. We must not sit idly by. Act first, and teach them to fear us." Vivienne continued firmly, her voice resolute. My heart stuttered in my ribs and with a flick, my gaze shot away to the center of the garden, watching a Mother sit with a bandaged soldier, his arm clearly gone and his torso nothing but scars. My Marked palm was hidden away in the fingers of my hand.

Fear isn't going to solve this, Vivienne.

"There are greater powers in this world than fear, Vivienne." I countered with quiet words. An eyebrow of hers shot up over her forehead. I sat up straighter, rolling a shoulder before bringing my weight to my knees and standing. "Fear, like love and hate and mercy, always spread. But. I appreciate the advice." Even if I managed to strike fear into the hearts of the Venatori or Corypheus (doubtful that rat bastard had a heart), it wouldn't stop there.

Sitting in the gardens and watching the Mothers work their skills, hearing the murmurs and desperate whispers, I had a better, greater perspective. The Inquisition would grow. The limits of our power and influence would expand. My influence would expand. I could hardly afford now to be weak, but I couldn't afford to let the Inquisition turn into a dictatorship. If anyone had taught me a lesson about power, it was Spiderman.

And I knew better.

After my rest at the gardens and finally escaping the hawkeyes of the Chantry's deadliest Mothers, I found myself wandering around near the tavern again. At the edge of the second level looking down to the first, I could see the broad back of Blackwall. He leaned against the edge of the stonework wall, hands braced over the surface and his shoulders hunched. The day was coming to a close, it could only be assumed that whatever duty he had been assigned, he had finished.

Leliana managed to convince Iron Bull and Blackwall to retreat, Cullen's voice echoed through my ears, but they didn't look like they wanted to.

Slowly and carefully, I made my way over to the brooding Blackwall. Glancing about the ground, there was a twig long enough to make a satisfying snap if broken, so I walked over to it. My heel came down on the twig and with its hiss of noise, Blackwall's shoulders tensed. Dark eyes came over his shoulder and found me, the tension melting from his frame after a moment. He dropped his head and his fists gripped tight, pressing into the unrelenting stone.

Another few steps and I was beside him, nervous. Instinct had me wanting to reaching out and reassure him, but common sense told me to wait. Something was rolling through him, a storm I couldn't see or weather for him. Moments felt like hours until finally he exhaled and slackened, his limbs jello at his sides. He didn't face me fully and kept his eyes on the courtyard below. I was at a loss for words, so like an idiot, I stood there, helpless.

"In my defense," I faltered, "I didn't leap head first this time. I was actually running away." A dark, choked laugh strangled him, something akin to what I had heard from Cullen back in my healing tent in the mountains. Pain and laughter, displeasure or disbelief, perhaps? I couldn't claim to know the workings of my mind, least of all the minds of others.

"I don't know what to think anymore." Blackwall replied, stepping away from the stone fencing. His gaze still avoided me. "We had gotten too far to get back to you, too many enemies had surrounded us, and the dragon…"

"Was a pretty big bastard, I'm not going to lie." I interrupted, wholly unnerved by the somber mood between us. Blackwall wasn't like Bull or Varric or even Solas, he couldn't snap to my humor like the others did, his form of coping was vastly different and I struggled to keep still under the weight of it.

"I was asking myself what you were thinking, standing against that thing all on your own. Did you even try to run?" Blackwall's voice was hollow in his throat, sounding distance and utterly confused. Gently, I attempted to come into his line of sight, to catch his eye, but he was still too close to the stonework.

"Where was I going to go?" I asked quietly. There was no telling where he was going to go with this line of questioning. Last decent conversation we had, had been ages ago and since then we had been on eggshells. His duty outweighed his opinion of me or my lack of restraint and I was too much of a soulless chickenshit to actually patch the missing holes in our partnership.

"I don't know. Somewhere, anywhere." Blackwall muttered, the tension returning to his shoulders and neck. "And then the screaming… but you managed it — you brought Corypheus low and set out to do what you promised, destroying Haven."

"I — you're making it sound way braver than it actually was." I choked, hands laced together and fiddling over my stomach nervously. "I was shitting my brains out, I was so scared."

"But you still did it." Blackwall growled, though I was uncertain if it had been accusatory or not. "You still got to the trebuchet — you still faced him." I grasped at mental straws and strings, trying to figure out where he wanted to go, what he wanted me to say. There was something, a hint of rage or fury that boiled deep under his skin.

"I had to," came the weak reply, "I had to. It was — you know, good math. One, for the many. Me, for Haven." Something snapped in him, something tight and coiled down in his throat that when it broke loose, he swallowed and shut his eyes, the muscles of his jaw and neck jumping in electrocution.

"And do you always think that?" Blackwall finally turned to face me. My lungs shriveled behind my ribs as his intensity was weighed against my gaze, challenging me to answer him. "Good leaders don't sacrifice themselves on chances. They don't throw all caution to the wind and hope for the best. They look for options!"

"I'm not a good leader, Blackwall." I swallowed to rehydrate my lungs, letting them expand enough to breathe and steady my nerves. "And my choices may not always be good ones, but I make them because I can live with my decisions."

"And what about us? The Inquisition? Do we just forgive those decisions? Even the stupid ones?" He snapped low in his throat. We stared at each other, a tremble came through him as the storm passed through his eyes, anger and a fear that I recognized.

"A wise man once said," I began, leaning on the words of Bruce Lee, "mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them." It stopped Blackwall long enough for me to exhale and gather my nerves, holding them tight under my trembling heart. A cloud passed through his eyes, an emptiness I hadn't seen before. His shoulders went limp and a quiet, hollow chuckle followed.

"Not all mistakes can be forgiven." He answered softly. "Death and murder, certainly not."

"If we're going to get philosophical here, you're in trouble." I joked weakly. "Look, Blackwall. I'm not… I'm not going to even presume to know what you've been through. What mistakes you've made, but hear me out, alright?"

"Herald —" He started, but I raised my hand and shut him off.

"No, listen to me. I've heard this undertone you've got every time you've spoken to me." I admitted, exhaling at the wrong time and choking as I tried to catch my breath, my voice tight and higher than it needed to be. "And if you've got something to say, you need to say it. You need to tell me what's got you so scared."

"I'm not scared." He immediately replied, waspish.

"That is exactly the tone of voice of someone who is," I deadpanned. Blackwall struggled, warring within himself to say something, either in retaliation or submission.

"Walk with me." He demanded, impatiently stepping around me and heading toward the stairway toward the main wall. "I want to examine the ramparts, take stock of our fortifications." One would never believe how heavily my eyes rolled in my head, but I kept myself mute as I followed him. The crowd on the second level courtyard had started to stop and stare at us. I knew he wanted to escape our audience.

We traveled up the stairs and through a tower. I skipped around a few soldiers to keep up with Blackwall. He had us stepping outside onto the ramparts, overlooking the main gate, the wind whipping at my coat and hair, forcing me to tuck a few strands to the back of my head, twisting the hair into a tail I held over my shoulder. Blackwall stopped and looked out over the ledge, his brow heavy over his eyes.

"... We'll be able to see Corypheus coming from miles away." He muttered. I hadn't doubted it. The deep valley swam before us and tapered off into a lake that bled between the mountains and possibly connected out to a massive river. Corypheus' only option was to come from above, or through our mouth at the main gate.

"He'll be hard pressed to take advantage of us this time." I replied, unsure of what else to say. My gaze shot to Blackwall's shoulder and up to his profile, patient. "He won't get the drop on us. Skyhold promises that much."

"Let him come. I swear I'll take the twisted bastard down, even if I have to die to do it." Blackwall growled, fisting his hand against the stone and pushing away from it. My right eye narrowed at him, squinting in the morning light. Did we not just have this discussion?

"You're being hypocritical." The snap was unintentional, but the feeling slipped by my lips without a care. Blackwall's molten gaze came to my face, but there wasn't much left of my fear to cower me anymore. It was one thing to point fingers, it was a different thing to point fingers when we stood in the same sinking boat.

"It's different." Blackwall groused. "I'm not a symbol to these people. I don't hold the whole blasted world in the palm of my hand." His finger jutted toward my side, with my instinctive jerk to hide my hand behind my back.

"And you think I'm ready to lose you?" I tossed back into his face. It was enough to derail him, his shoulders popping at my words and his eyes going wide. I had him, he would listen to me now. "You think I can do this alone? Do you have any idea how limited I am in friends around here?"

"The Inquisition wouldn't abandoned their loyalty to you like they would to someone like me." Blackwall shook himself, his shoulders trembling before he straightened them, his voice croaked.

"I'm not talking about fucking loyalty here, you jackass." The words whipped, heat seared up my back as my knuckles rapped against my spine with a shake. "I'm talking about actual, goddamn friendship. You think any of these soldiers legitimately care for Jaime and not the Herald?"

"When they told me you weren't the religious sort, I ignored it. How could you not be, given the gift you were given." He glanced low at the sway of my hips and glared back up at me, mouth set tight. "Tell me honestly: are you what they say you are? Andraste's chosen?"

"No." I hardlined him, the corners of my mouth twitching with a snarl. "No, and I never was, but that doesn't fucking matter now. What I am is their goddamn hope for any sort of future, but I can't have you nipping at my heels for every shithead mistake!"

"I nip at your heels because of that!" He snapped, his arms twitching harshly at his sides. "Listen to yourself, despite not being what they claimed you to be, you have become that, you're their only hope and I can't — we can't have you throwing yourself away." Immediately he reeled on his heels, inhaling deep and holding his breath, a technique I had seen some of the soldiers do to steel themselves.

Resisting my stubbornness, I took two small steps back and exhaled. My right hand came to join my left behind me, resting at the small of my back. It drew my shoulders straight and centered me. I hadn't fought with one of my companions before, it should have been a given: I wasn't going to get along with everyone.

Blackwall hadn't been one of the ones I thought I would butt heads with, and that had been short-sighted of me.

My shoulders relaxed, something dawned on me, coming up from the back of my thoughts.

We're the same, the thought wisped through my ears, we're afraid. We're helpless. I couldn't have my companions, my friends, throwing themselves at danger because of me, because without them, I wouldn't have a foundation to stand upon. I had been like that with Cassandra, but we hadn't fought as Blackwall and I did because she knew her worth. She persevered because she was confident she could.

Blackwall and I didn't have that.

A laugh overtook me, startling Blackwall. My hands came up to my face and hid my eyes, the heels of my palms resting on my cheeks before smothering my mouth to clam up the laughter that escaped me.

"... Jaime?" Blackwall tugged at my attention, unnerved by the turn I had taken.

"You're a jackass." But I grinned at him past my fingers, hands still at my mouth. "... I hear you, Blackwall. I'm — I'm sorry."

"You — what?" Blackwall floundered, cheeks going red. "What part of the conversation are we on, because I think you've lost me."

"Oh, no, I know." I answered, one hand dropping to my side while my left came up to rub at my temple. "I just… realized. What you mean, I mean. Fuck, I mean — hold please." I held up a finger, bewildering my Warden further, his shoulders stiffening with confusion.

"Got knocked in the head for certain, now." Blackwall muttered, straightening a foot. "Or gone off on a potion, no doubt."

"What did I just say, huh? Shush it." I waved my left hand at him, taking a side step forward. "All I'm saying is… I get it. I — I'm sorry it took a shouting match to get me on the same page, but I get it."

"You get it?" Blackwall parroted with absolute disagreement, face a stone's surface. "Right."

"I understand. I get that you're worried about me, because yeah, from… from your side of the boat, it looks like I'm trying to sink us." I sighed, my left hand came to twist my throat. His eyes flickered between it and my face, waiting. "... but it doesn't matter if I tell you I'm not when I'm still doing shit that negates that."

He waited a second more before his shoulders slowly eased and his back relaxed, his mouth softening under his beard. A sigh brushed his lips. "... I didn't mean to shout."

"Yes you did," I grinned.

He fought his own, "... maybe a little. You're just — worse than a demon, I swear."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I snipped, my muscles relaxing as the tension ebbed away from us. I doubted the fight was far from over, as our personalities would continue to clash, but for now at the very least, there was peace. We were waterlogged, but the boat wasn't sinking anymore.

"It means that pretty face of yours hides a devil's worth of problems." He grumbled, shaking his head as his face flushed, turning to leave me on the ramparts. My laughter followed him out.


Note: I posted!